A Goddess Like We

By Paul Calhoun

Darius scanned the street for possibilities, brushing his hand forward to help stand his filthy black hair into even more obvious spikes. “Tourist.” He said quietly to Yazin, not quite looking at the portly woman exiting a fast food restaurant across the street. The paper bag in her hand drew their gaze despite their attempts to keep from seeming threatening.

Yazin nodded, her brown hair – just as dirty – brushing her neck. The extravagance of any length of hair was a pain, but paid off in making sure that the emaciated frame and gaunt cheeks didn’t result in her being mistaken for a boy. She needed people to know she was a girl; girls got more. She put her hand on Darius’ arm. “Daughter. Let me.” She said shortly. A girl no more than ten years old had left the restaurant and was hurrying to catch up to her mother.

“You did the last one.” Darius said. “I need to pull my weight.”

“You need to eat.” Yazin replied. “You know I’ll get more from her.”

Darius sighed. It was an old argument and one that he’d conceded often enough. “I know. I feel bad.” Yazin squeezed. “No problem.” She slipped across the street, the humid breeze passing through the many holes in her shapeless dress – a conglomeration of rags she’d sewn together herself. She hurried down an alley, passing several box houses that were only a single step down from the abandoned warehouse she and Darius lived in. The beggars and thieves looked up, saw her, and went back to their misery. There was no gain in robbing or waylaying an urchin like her.

Yazin emerged a few yards in front of the woman, just as the portly foreigner turned a corner. She hurriedly spat on her finger a drew tear streaks down her cheeks. “So hungry…” She moaned. “Please, miss. I was someone’s daughter too, once.” She whined.

The woman had the look of a tourist who’d been stopped by beggars before. Despite this, she wavered and when she saw her daughter reaching into her own back, she shoved hers into Yazin’s hand. “We’ll share.” She said shortly to her daughter, seeming to be almost as disgusted with her own weakness as the run down neighborhood she’d found herself in. It was rare to see a wealthy – or comparatively wealthy – tourist so far away from the clean bright towers and glitzy bars. Yazin and Darius hadn’t expected a handout so early in the day but the added food was welcome. Usually they had to toe the line between being a chased away by police as a public nuisance and getting too far from where the generous fat rich people would take pity on them.

“You’re too good.” Darius said when he saw Yazin coming back with a full bag. “We’d better get this all inside us before we go to school.”

“I want to enjoy it.” Yazin said. “Let’s skip today.”

“Are you sure?” Darius asked. Usually it was the other way around. He hated going, but Yazin often insisted. “Not that I’ll miss it.”

“I’m thinking that we don’t need to go anymore.” Yazin admitted as they ran back to their home in the back of the warehouse. “Not if they insist on putting us with the little kids. We know most of what they have to teach us anyway.” She looked sidelong at Darius with a small smile. “It’s your fault for not knowing how old you are.” She added.

“I’m sixteen!” He said. “I think. Anyway, don’t get all high and mighty with me, miss ‘Fourteen today, Seventeen tomorrow.’ They only started pushing me when you kept changing your mind.”

“I forgot!” Yazin said. “I’m definitely seventeen. So respect your elders.”

“Yeah, and you’ll be fourteen when we get home and you need to be a ‘poor little girl.’” Darius said.

The reason they were put with younger students was one neither of them liked to talk about. The reality was that malnutrition had left them not just skeletal but small in stature as well. Even the children from the poorest families were taller, with more flesh and greater muscle mass. Neither had developed much as they grew up, which was why Yazin was so insistent on dressing like a girl and wearing her dress. This she shed unselfconsciously when they got to the warehouse, washing off the worst of the grime with a tap that had been left on by mistake and switching from her ‘begging dress’ to her ‘respectable dress.’ A garment she’d found in a crate. She was very proud of it because it almost fit.

“I thought we weren’t going to school.” Darius said.

“We’re not, but I’m not sitting in that thing while we have a decent meal.” Yazin replied.

Darius wordlessly washed and changed to a mostly clean set of clothes. In truth he admitted her pride was well placed. They might be beggars, but they still had some standards. After a quick prayer of thanks for the unexpected bounty, they ate, savoring the heavy food. “Too many more meals like this, and you might actually get fat enough to have tits.” Darius commented.

“Yeah, but it’ll take more than that to make your meat grow.” Yazin said.

“We should go east next.” Darius said. “Deaf Felix says he heard a rumor about a big announcement from on high. That’ll bring in a lot of people.”

“Clergy.” Yazin said dismissively.

“Not just them, but a lot of company men.” Darius argued. “Easy pickings when they’re happy or surprised.”

“All right, we’ll try it.” Yazin agreed. “Though Deaf Felix is about the last person I’d take advice from.”

“He’s all right.” Darius said. “He just gets confused easily. This one he was very clear about. We’ll do fine.”

“Yah-huh.” Yazin finished her piece of the pita wrapped meat. “He needs to find a new act. I’d say he needs to pretend to have no sense of smell, but he’s already doing that.”

“Deaf Felix is an idiot.” Darius said, surveying the paltry group in front of the stage.

“We ran all the way here for a good spot…” Yazin sighed. “I got dirty again. What a waste.”

“As if anyone’s going to believe Theuvite.” Darius agreed. “It’s the same thing every couple of months. ‘We have a god.’ ‘We incarnated!’ ‘This one’s a real avatar.’ We have more original routines.” They turned away and almost ran into a man in a well tailored suit. His tie was blue with gold spiky haloes and he was carrying a valise. He was short for a well fed person, with shaggy black hair and an open face. He regarded them closely and Yazin tensed, ready to run.

“Excuse us.” She said, trying to get past him.

He flicked a coin at them and Darius caught it. “What are the attributes of Anee?”

“Four-handed, open palmed, cosmic grace, forever pure.” Darius replied.

He threw one to Yazin. “How would one know Anee if they saw her?”

“Do you mean apart from her having four arms, white hair, and almost no color to her skin?” Yazin asked sarcastically. “Knowing any god by sight alone is impossible. It is by their acts and speech that they are found, but the fact that Anee is said to possess hair that defies gravity is a giveaway if everything else isn’t.”

Paper money followed. “What are her virtues?”

“Purity and charity are obvious, but she is also known for loving animals and being as joyful as the child she appears to be while being as wise as the wisest monk.” Darius said.

“Her number?”

“Four, duh.”

“Her month?”

“August.”

“The words when spoken that unlock the hidden font?”

“Gnosis i dynemeos. Tireo kala.”

“How did you know that?” The man asked, staring at Yazin.

“We hear things.” Darius replied, edging in front of Yazin as she backed away.

“Wait!” The man reached out and they backed away.

“We appreciate the charity, but we have to go.” Darius said, letting Yazin escape further.

“I have a job for you.” He said. He saw Yazin’s expression. “Not like that.” He looked around. “I can’t talk about it out here.” Those were the wrong words and the urchins were running before he could react. They were faster, nimbler, and desperate. Unfortunately, they were also clutching money and running from a man in a suit. A woman in uniform escorted them back to him. “Thank you officer.” He said. Kneeling, he faced the struggling children. “Listen, it’s me or the work gangs now. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I really don’t want to hurt you or make you do anything you don’t wish to. Will you just listen to me?”

Darius glared, but stopped struggling. Yazin took longer to calm, and a stout clip from the constable, but she settled. The business man accepted the money the officer had confiscated and the moment she turned her back, he slipped it back to them. “My office is not far away.” He said. “There will be people all around for most of the trip and if you insist I can bring in my secretary and any number of other people from my organization. I don’t want to rob you, rape you, bleed you, do experiments on you, or enslave you in a sweatshop. If I wanted those, I wouldn’t have asked you all those questions. I need – I need help with something and you two are as close to perfect for the job as I’ll ever find.” He continued his reassuring monologue as they went into a glass fronted skyscraper. The teens balked at the elevator and he gave them a strange look. “It’s fine.”

“There’s no one else in them.” Yazin said.

“Sam, can you come over here?” A blonde woman slightly taller than he was approached. “Can you join us for a moment? The children don’t want to ride alone. Project Anee.”

“Oh, that’s just fine.” She smiled, trying to look reassuring, but seemed nervous.

“I’m Natali.” The businessman said, pressing the button for the eighteenth floor.

“Yazin.”

“Darius.”

The elevator stopped and several people entered and left before it was their floor. Sam hesitantly touched Yazin’s arm. “It’s OK, dear. No one’s going to hurt you.” She followed them out and into a large cubicle space, through several halls and into a corner office.

“I wish I had my good pants.” Darius said.

“Yeah.” Yazin said. Natali sat behind a desk and gestured, but the kids stayed standing, casting glances over their shoulders.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Yes.” Yazin said immediately.

“No.” Darius whispered something in her ear and she nodded.

“No.” She agreed.

“I’m not going to – let me explain. What I want you to do is dishonest. I admit it. But if you get caught you’ll be no worse off than you are now.”

“How dishonest?” Yazin asked.

“You know about our difficulties. I heard you talking about them outside. That’s why I was drawn to you; you two seem to know more than most kids your age.”

“We’re older than we look.” Darius said.

“We think.” Yazin looked around. “This is Theuvite?”

“Yes. I’m sorry; I’m stalling.” Natali shook his head. “We – I – want you to impersonate a god. Some fool downstairs claimed on camera that we’d succeeded. It’s all over the news. If we give the bad news now we’re ruined. Every investor will pull out. We need something to show the public.”

Darius’ mouth gaped. “Anee? You really did pick a hard one.”

“Not really.” Natali smiled. “Better someone who is normal sized rather than a giant, and who doesn’t carry a flaming spear or throw thunderbolts. Anee is a goddess who is easier to impersonate than Biresh or Rintosa. I don’t expect you to believe me right now. You have no proof. Much like our investors.” He opened his wallet and handed each of them a bill worth more money than they’d make in five years of begging. “Go home. Think about it. Come back in clothes you find respectable. Whatever. But come back soon or this won’t work. I’ll make sure security knows to take you here. We’ll talk when you’ve made a decision. Don’t come back at all if you’d prefer to be sure, but I promise you this: I don’t want to hurt you. If this fails and the truth comes out, I will do all I can to make sure that your identities will remain confidential. And if it succeeds.” He leaned back in his chair. “There’s a lot more where that came from. You know where to find me.”

Darius and Yazin ran back to their home, taking several detours through allies, culverts, and across fields to make sure they weren’t being followed. They put most of the money under a cement tile, but took enough to buy blankets and a dinner big enough to leave them feeling full for the first time they could remember. As they settled in, curled up together under the blanket with the sun setting behind the mountain, Darius brought up their plans. “Are we going back?”

Yazin rolled over to look at him. “I don’t know. If you asked me that as we were leaving, I’d have been very sure I wasn’t. What do you think?”

“I don’t know either.” Darius closed his eyes. “Imagine being able to eat that much every day.”

“We can’t make decisions like that.” Yazin said.

“I know. It’s why we ate so much we wouldn’t be hungry. So we could decide without it getting to us.” Darius looked into Yazin’s eyes. “I don’t think he was lying.”

“Neither do I, but he doesn’t seem very smart.”

“He’s desperate.”

“You sound like you plan on going back.” Yazin said.

“I guess I do.”

“So do I.” She rolled back over. “That was easy.” She shifted backwards, pressing herself against Darius. “Imagine feeling like this every night.”

Darius put his arms around her. “Yeah. You’d fill out enough to be worth cuddling.”

“And you’d have enough on you to actually keep me awake with that.” She pushed his manhood out of the way. “Go to sleep. Save your strength in case we have to run away.”

“Yazin.”

“What, Darius?”

“Imagine not having to worry about needing to run away.” He sighed.

“Dreamer.” She reached back and brushed his cheek. They fell asleep with her wondering what it would be like to feel this good all the time. So good that they might even get beyond joking and - she shook her head as she felt him shrink again. He wasn’t strong enough to keep it up for very long and she didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. She was only dreaming.

The pair put on their best clothes and scrubbed as much as they could before setting out. They felt small as they entered the atrium, the lobby of the office building dwarfing them with its bright light and shining metal beams. They held hands and scurried for the elevator, glad to find it empty throughout the ascent to their suddenly open future. The morning had brought another first for them. They hadn’t woken up hungry and had been too nervous to finish the leftover feast they’d bought the day before. Neither wished to take the lead, but Yazin found her voice first and asked the receptionist to tell Natali that they’d arrived. “Mr. Barker will be right with you.” The man said kindly. They sat, their feet kicking in the air because the chairs were too tall for them. They had not ended their hand clasp the entire time, nor did they when Natali arrived and took them to his office.

“We’ll do it.” Darius blurted when he closed the door.

Natali looked relieved. “Thank you.”

“You’ll need to tell us what it is we’re doing, though.” Yazin said.

“Of course. Do you mind living here?” They shook their heads. The warehouse was a nice place out of the elements but the office space was snug and comfortable all the time with heat and air conditioning. It would seem like the height of luxury to sleep someplace they didn’t have to worry about night visitors of various kinds or the building burning down because someone had bought the property for redevelopment but needed some quick insurance money. “Great. We’ll set up space upstairs for you. I’ve been curious ever since I met you two. How do you know so much? Some things everyone knows about the gods, but you were so quick with your answers and temple secrets are supposed to be just that. It took our research staff months to dig up that phrase.”

“We weren’t born in the streets.” Darius said. He shook his head. “It’s too painful to remember.”

“Oh.” Natali said. It occurred to him who they might be. Images from the news returned to him. Fires, explosions. A revolution quelled and towns destroyed in reprisals. Temples crumbling. Children fleeing the war zone. “You’ve adapted very well.”

“You get used to it or you die.” Yazin told him. “We were lucky. We picked the right direction to run.” Her voice was hard and he knew he wasn’t getting any more answers.

“I’m sorry I brought it up.” Natali closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. “I’ll see to getting the ball rolling. While you’re waiting for your new living space to be readied, let’s go see the doctor.” They looked at each other in confusion and Natali explained. “You seem healthy, but we can’t take any chances. If you’re missing inoculations you’ll get them now. I’m sure you have parasites and those can be dealt with. I want you to be happy, but for purely selfish reasons our company can’t risk having either of you ill for very long. That and we’ll need to examine you for some other things that will have to be done. Come on.” He got up and they went down to the fourth floor. A small clinic was present where the employees and their children in the corporate daycare went in emergencies. A nurse took them into a small examination room, at first looking like she wanted to see them separately, but when they refused to let go of each other she gave up.

“You’ll need to take all your clothes off.” She warned.

“It’s nothing we haven’t seen before.” Yazin said, understanding her hesitation.

“Can you remember the last time we saw a doctor?” Darius grinned as he and Yazin disrobed.

“Yeah. It was when we drank out of that bottle that guy dropped as he was leaving the Red Gecko.” Yazin smiled back. “We thought we were dying but he’d just spat out a tab into it and we got what was left.”

The nurse tried to ignore how casually they talked about accidentally taking drugs. They were put on a scale, had their blood pressure checked. Blood was taken and Yazin almost fainted at the needle, but had to laugh back when she barely flinched at the nurse checking her vaginal health but Darius crying out when she did a prostate exam. “How old are you?” The nurse asked, frowning a little when she examined Darius’ scrptum and penis.

“Sixteen, I think.” Darius replied. “It’s hard to keep track.”

The nurse’s frown deepened. “All right.” She glanced at Yazin. “Have you ever … had thoughts, played with yourself, that sort of thing?”

“If you’re looking at me wondering if he’s ever tried anything with me, he hasn’t.” Yazin said firmly.

“I’m usually too hungry.” Darius said.

“When was your last period?” The nurse asked Yazin.

“I don’t know. Maybe a year ago.” Yazin said.

The nurse took some notes left. They were allowed to put their clothes back on and meet Natali.

“They’re in remarkably good shape.” The nurse was saying to Natali. “I doubt they’ll grow any more – of course you like that.” She added accusitorally.

“It makes things easier.” Natali said. “I’m sorry if you find our business unethical. They’re far better off this way.”

“No doubt.” The nurse looked at her pad. “We’ll do some more tests later when they’ve eaten and can handle the fitting. I know you’re going to try to keep them thin, but they don’t need to be starving. Your goddess can stand to be a little on the plump side. Not that you’ll listen,” she said to herself. “You’ll want your goddess to look perfect and damn the consequences.” To Natali, she finished, “There’s a real sexual problem with both of them. Impotence and a lack of a menstrual cycle.”

“Hey!” Darius was turning dark. “You don’t have to tell him about that.”

“It may go away when they’re eating regularly.” The nurse finished. “We’ll let you know about the blood work, but looking at them I’d say they’ve somehow avoided the worst parasites and won’t need more than a few flea baths to get rid of what they’ve picked up. No major diseases. They’ve done quite well.”

“You don’t live if you get sick.” Yazin said. “What now?”

“It’s around lunch time if you two are hungry.”

Yazin and Darius looked at him with such obvious incredulity that he looked away. “Of course. Follow me.”

Natali was evasive over the meal when they tried to learn more about what he wanted, telling them that they’d understand much better when he showed them. They wanted to know when he would and he eventually admitted that it could be as long as two weeks. “In the mean time, you can get used to living here.” He told them.

“We’re not allowed to leave.” Darius concluded.

“Ah, no.” Natali admitted, looking down. “Someone might notice.”

“Two homeless children vanish off the street and nobody cares.” Yazin said. “But two waifs coming and going alone from the most prestigious subsidiary of a very wealthy corporation and then they get interested.” She stopped voraciously consuming everything they could give her to shake her head. “Not that we can really mind. If anyone cared about us, they might ask where we came from. We’re better off being forgotten completely. Let the other beggars think we got picked up by traffickers or got shot by a rich person and had the murder covered up. That raises an unfortunate question, Mr. Natali.” She said at length.

Darius stopped asked the question for her, letting her get back to eating. “How do we know you won’t eliminate us when we stop being able to do what you need us to?”

“I-I…” Natali gulped.

“It’s not your choice, is it?” Darius smiled coldly. “You can assure us all you want, but if someone higher up decides we’re a liability, all your promises mean nothing. So much for our fortune improving.” He said to Yazin.

“Did you expect it to?”

“No, but we can still hope.”

“Let’s hope they don’t change their minds.” Yazin said.

“This is ours?” Darius asked when Natali was told their apartment was ready.

“All of it?” Yazin pressed when Natali nodded.

They’d been given a brightly painted, airy series of rooms. The lack of adornments made the place seem sterile and un-lived in, but the thick carpets and generic furniture was a huge step up from the warehouse. The three bedrooms each had an attached bath, though the middle one had the only tub and a much better set of fixtures. It wasn’t long before the two teens pushed the beds from the other two into the third. “Why three?” Darius asked suspiciously.

“You’ll see.” He, Yazin, and Natali said at once. “Yeah, we get it.” Yazin added.

There was a small kitchen in case they wanted something to eat when the corporate café was closed. The living room was right off one of the elevator banks, but Natali gave them each a plastic card and assured them that no one could stop those elevators on their floor without one and that only they and he had them, and that they’d be told if anyone else was given one. “We’ll arrange for some new clothes tomorrow.” Natali said.

“Oh, and just when I’d gotten these pants broken in.” Darius said. Yazin poked him and he poked her back. “Thank you.” He said.

“Even if what you want is probably dangerous and definitely unethical, possibly even illegal, it’s better than anything we could have expected.” Yazin said.

“If we can’t leave, what do we do?” Darius asked.

“We can get you a computer if you’re discreet. There’s a television there and we can get you any movie or game you want. Books, cards, whatever.” Natali said.

“We’re used to active hobbies.” Darius said.

“We usually spend most of the day walking around the city and mucking about with whatever we find.”

“But that’s a big fat ‘nope’ now.”

“There’s a gym.” Natali said. “I’ve never used it but I think it has a pool.”

“Hey, a clean pool.” Yazin said. “I bet it’s warm too.”

“Sounds good.” Darius replied.

“I’ll see about finding you some bathing suits.” Natali told them. “You’d better … uh, that is-“

“You don’t want us getting your pool dirty.” Darius said. “Bath time.”

“I don’t know,” Yazin said. “It’s better than the river, but we actually have to wear something to swim.”

“Showoff.” Darius teased.

“At least I have something to –“ Yazin had to duck a cushion Darius pulled off the sofa. “Careful. You might hit all this empty space.”

They both went for the center bathroom, stopped, glared at each other, and laughed. “We’re going to need more than a casual scrub to be worthy of their vaunted pool.” Darius allowed.

“Yes, and it can be hard to reach my back.” Yazin agreed. They bathed together, continuing their conversation in an attempt to understand – or at least feel less nervous about – their sudden rise in station. “I feel a bit like a concubine.” Yazin said.

“It’s a pretty pathetic harem that has only you-“ Darius dodged a soap filled swat. “I was insulting myself too, you know.” He added, working the lather into her shoulders.

“Oh yeah,” she turned around and did the same for him. “You’re not quite a eunuch.”

“Why, Yazin! That was almost a compliment of my virility.”

“Perish the thought.” Yazin said. She closed her eyes and let the heat soak into her.

“Do you think we’d have been married by now if we hadn’t had to run?”

“Probably. Is it bad that I’m grateful that we aren’t?”

Darius started to dry himself off. “It depends why.”

“I don’t like living on the street, but I think we’d have been bored in our normal lives. Would you have been happy as a civil servant or a priest?”

“As happy as you would be as a priestess or staying at home.” Darius replied. “Living hand to mouth until we’re made the playthings of a multinational conglomerate doesn’t appeal either.”

“Yeah, but until now we’ve been free.”

“Do you want to run?”

Yazin bit her lip and then shook her head decisively. “No. This is all just too weird to walk out on. I want to know what’s happening. They’re watching the doors, anyway.”

“We can run when they trust us.” Darius grinned. “Let’s go see if he’s found something to help maintain our nonexistent modesty.”

“There’s no point in getting dressed.” Yazin grinned back. “After all, our clothes are as dirty as we were.”

“Shouldn’t those children be with their own?” An executive asked primly, looking with disdain at the laughing, splashing teens who were throwing the adults’ attempts at laps into disarray.

“They’re employees.” Natali said mildly.

“Them? They can’t be more than eleven or twelve!”

“They’re a bit older than that.” Natali said evasively.

“Well, they look terrible.” The executive groused.

“They haven’t had regular meals in a number of years.” Natali replied.

“Are they … vagabonds?”

Natali looked at the executive with matching disdain. “They’re kids who haven’t been allowed to be kids. They’re also very important to the TheoGenesis program.”

“Vessels?”

“Something like that. Above your grade.”

“See here! Do you know who I am?”

Natali smiled and held up his badge. “Apparently you don’t know who I am.” He said, still not showing more than a socially acceptable amount of disgust at his employee, who mouthed wordlessly and scurried off. “It’s people like that who ought not to be promoted.” Natali sighed. “No imagination, no empathy. As if it’s profitable in the long run to use human sacrifice to try to get the gods’ attention.” He offered up a quick prayer to his own, who were like most deities and responded very promptly to the kind of insult he was about to throw at a local goddess’ feet. Despite his annoyance, he saw the benefit to keeping his charges’ presence quiet even from the rest of the building. A private gym would be underway before the day was out. He was sure that the kids would be much happier with fewer ellipticals and more balance beams and swings. His heart warmed at the thought of how they’d react to a trampoline.

“How do I look in this?” Yazin asked, swishing her petticoat under the knee length pink dress over her white stockinged legs which shook as she remembered how to stand in heels.

“Like I remember you.” Darius replied. “And me?” He turned around slowly in the dark pants, long charcoal gray coat and matching flat cap. His belt buckle shone and his white shirt peeked out from the buttoned coat.

“The way you are when I dream about our parents.” Yazin said, her eyes as misty as his. They’d put together the outfits when Yazin joked how it was the first time in years since they had more than a ‘good’ set and a ‘beggar’ set of clothes. Darius had held up the hat and said he remembered wearing one just like it to a winter outing and she’d pulled out the stockings and said they were exactly the same as the set she’d worn that same day. They took a step towards each other and Yazin put her hand on his shoulder. He put his on her hip and their other hands clasped together. They danced to a song only they could hear, an echo from a past they’d almost forgotten. They stopped at the same time, time suspended in the moment of their locked eyes.

“Natali will be here in a minute.” Yazin said.

“We should wear something more practical.” Darius agreed.

When Natali arrived, they were in more modern, climate appropriate outfits, though Yazin continued to eschew figure hugging bottoms for a long skirt even though she’d swiftly re-learned the hair care techniques that made hers much more feminine than Darius’. He didn’t need to say anything about it, understanding her lack of security in her femininity. After all, it wouldn’t take a stretch for him to be mistaken for a girl as she was often seen as a boy if she failed to present herself forcefully as female.

“For what it’s worth,” Natali said as the elevator descended, “your blood tests came back negative for all diseases and predictable deficient in almost every nutrient.”

“Surprise surprise.” Darius said.

“We’re going to do a full body scan on you now.” Natali continued.

“Like the kind where they look inside us?” Yazin asked.

“Something like that.” Natali replied.

“Why?”

“It’s part of what why I need you two to help me.” Natali said.

“More evasions.”

“Your break is almost over.” Natali assured them. “I hope you’ve been having fun.”

“You must be desperate if you’re willing to build us an entire gym just so we don’t meet anyone we’re not supposed to.” Yazin pressed.

“But you’re happy?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she smiled and puffed a little hair out of her eye. “We’re even getting used to sitting in place long enough to read.”

“The library never wanted to let us borrow books,” Darius explained, “and we didn’t have time to sit there long enough to read.”

“So you’re not lonely?” Natali continued.

“No. We’re used to just us.” Darius said.

“We like it that way.” Yazin added.

Darius waited outside the room, watching as Yazin lay down and was fed through a donut. “I don’t know if I can lie still for that long,” he said after she’d been slid back and forth several times.

“I don’t mean to pry, but weren’t you taught meditation?” Natali guessed.

“Oh, Jindren.” Darius said, invoking the god of mercy. “I haven’t done that in ages.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Being that calm is like lowering your defenses.”

“You have nothing to fear here.”

“Nothing to fear today.” Darius corrected. “I’ll try.”

He lay on the fabric covered cushion that seemed to be unique to hospitals. He looked to one side at Yazin and then back at the ceiling when the voice ordered him to. He closed his eyes and made his breathing even. His spirit left his body, rising towards the light. He projected himself out – fighting against the current of memory that tried to drag him backwards into sights and sounds that he resisted in all his unguarded moments. Instead he forcibly propelled himself into a dispassionate analysis of his current situation. His life had taken an odd turn and was likely to get stranger. What he was going to do sounded blasphemous though he didn’t know. He’d stopped walking with the gods a few months after he and Yazin had escaped, the day he became positive that their fortune would not reverse and they had been cast out completely. They had left him, and he’d grown to accept that. Now he was offered prosperity but at the cost of no longer keeping his back turned to the gods, but to show them the face of scorn. He would need to seek protection from other gods if he expected to survive.

“Darius? Darius!” Someone was shouting his name and he recalled himself in time to sit up before the tech could come in and try to rouse him.

“Are you done?”

“Yes.” The tech looked as if he’d been trying to tell Darius that for awhile.

“All right.” Darius slid off the platform.

“That’s all we need.” Natali said when Darius joined them. “Next time I see you, I’ll be ready to show you what we need you to do.”

“Finally.” Yazin was looking over the tech’s shoulder. “So that’s what my insides look like. They’re a lot more colorful than I expected.”

“How do you do it? Seriously?” Yazin sat back as Darius smugly put his controller down. “I’m going to go use the rope rings. Call when I can have a turn to practice without you cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s not very creative, but it’s not cheating.” Darius grinned. “Fine, I’ll stop using the same move over and over. Happy?”

Yazin settled back down. “All right, but no more of that stupid laser thing. Whoever made this game didn’t play it enough.”

“Or liked the robot.”

Their rematch – in which Yazin was slowly taking the lead – was interrupted by Natali pushing a trunk into their living room. “It’s time.”

“Good! We were starting to get slow and fat with all this sitting around.” Yazin scrambled up, followed by Darius.

Natali stood the trunk up so that it was taller than the teens and opened the clasps with loud thunks against the leather wrapped wood. He opened the front and the teens took an involuntary step back. “That’s a really good sculpture.” Yazin said. “The pose might be considered somewhat insulting to Anee.”

“I’m not sure she’d appreciate being shown nude either.” Darius said, his attention fixed on the anatomy of the four armed goddess. “Not these days. In fact, you’d probably get trouble from more than priests for such an explicit piece of art showing a girl her physical age.”

“It’s not a sculpture.” Natali reached behind the floating goddess and showed how it was a flexible shell on a hook.

“You know,” Yazin said. “The amount of detail shows how having four arms makes your body different.”

“It’s a really nice interpretation.” Darius agreed. “So it’s not art. What is it?”

Natali lay the goddess down on the sofa, her snow white hair pooled out around her body. Like the goddess, the icon’s hair reached down past her hips and was very thick in places, seeming to move on its own and gather in places. Her rib cage was longer than a human’s, with extra width partway down to accommodate having a second set of shoulders. Her skin was unnaturally pale as well and her face was round and angelic despite the empty eye sockets and open mouth, her small, soft lips a delicate pink. She was relatively undeveloped, with only a little more hip and breast than Yazin, though her rear was rounded more than the rest. All four hands had dark violet nails, as did her feet.

Natali showed them that the head was zipped on and there was another track hidden underneath the neck skin in front that went down between her small breasts. “It’s a skin of sorts.” He said. “Something we’ve been developing for priests who need symbolic avatars. In her case, two people get in and – wait!” The teens were desperately pressing the elevator call button.

“For what? Judgment?” Darius asked. “You want us to impersonate Anee. She may be kind, compassionate, and forgiving, but Fyodor isn’t.” He named her brother, a rash god of warriors and paladins. “Not to mention her parents.” The patriarch and matriarch deities who were both well known for striking down those who insulted their siblings and children. “You may be a foreigner, but you’re still here.”

Natali reached into his shirt front and lifted out a medallion on a soft string of yarn. “I’m protected and I offer mine to you.” He said.

Yazin looked at Darius, who tentatively examined the holy symbol. It was of a canine creature with its mouth open in a grin. “Coyote.” He said after checking. He looked up at Natali. “This is your patron?”

“He is here.” Natali said. “Our company has many alliances depening on where they operate.”

“He’s foreign.”

“He’s strong.”

Darius nodded to himself. “Yes. Hiding those he favors from the wrath of his peers.”

“I’m given to believe that he finds this project very amusing.”

Yazin said, “Doesn’t coyote only help as long as you entertain him?”

Darius nodded and squeezed her hand. “That’s the challenge. He enjoys watching other gods be embarrassed. I feel bad about doing it to Anee, though. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“We don’t intend you to harm her reputation. Only pretend to be her made flesh. Our company promised its investors and –“

Darius grinned. “Oh. Coyote isn’t laughing at Annee. He’s laughing at us. Your overlook a serious flaw.”

Yazin caught on immediately. “We’ll be fine until it’s funnier for us to be discovered.”

“Exactly.”

“If we amuse him enough, though, our downfall will be temporary.” Natali argued. “The scandal may make him laugh, and he will reward us for that by making sure we are placed well to make him laugh again.”

“The playthings of a trickster god.” Darius looked sharply at Natali. “You’ve done this before.”

“Yes. He’s an interesting god to ally with.”

“Interesting.” The teens had to smile at each other at that. “We like interesting, right?”

Yazin nodded sharply. “Very much. All right, Natali, we’ll do it. Show us how.”

Natali unzipped the front, showing them how it only went as far as the bottom of her extended rib cage. “It’s mostly empty, but there are a couple of dividers to act as guides so that the front and back are in the right places.” He said. “The back person gets in, then the front, and then you put on the arms, zip it up, and put the mask on. You can see here,” he showed them a large gathering of hair near her neck, one of several, “this one is empty. The person in back hides their head in it. It looks solid from the outside, but it’s a one way mesh. You’ll see.”

“Okay.” Yazin took the skin from him and pulled Darius into the middle bedroom. Before Darius could close the door, Natali pushed the trunk in after them. “There are some clothes sized and fitted for her frame in there.”

“Thank you.” Yazin said. Darius closed the door and she put the skin down on their large nest-bed. “This is weirder than I could have possibly expected.”

“Yeah, I had no idea what we were doing, but this…” He touched the skin. “It feels real. Nicer than ours.”

“Anee never had to survive on the streets. It’s all perfume and lotion for her.”

“So are we doing this?”

Yazin let her dress fall to the floor. “We don’t have much choice.”

“You want to.”

“So do you.” Yazin observed as Darius shed his pants. “I’ll take the front this time, but we can take turns if they give us a good way to make you sound like me.”

“After this, I think they could probably get us anything.” Darius said. He fumbled with the skin and Yazin held the left leg so he could work his down. He found the guide strips and put his limb behind each one until he left foot was inside Anee’s. Yazin helped him with the right and he stood up to pull the loose fitting skin up to his waist. “Wait.” Yazin said as he hiked it further up and reached for the arms. “You don’t even know which pair you are.”

Darius turned around and Yazin climbed onto the bed. She couldn’t think of any other way to get in and turned around to slide in backwards. Darius held the suit open and stood still as she slithered down, her legs filling out the suit completely. Her feet reached the ankles and stopped, leaving her a little further up than him. “Feel that?” She wiggled her feet. “The front has inclines so I’m standing on tiptoe. Anee has to have dainty feet.”

“It also means you can comfortably take the top arms and I can fit into that wig spot.” Darius said. They shrugged on their respective arms, Yazin getting her hands in first. She pulled the zipper up as Darius finished getting his hands in. He held them up and giggled. “I have such girly fingers,” he laughed, holding out the nails with their purple polish.

Yazin picked up the mask and tried to put it on. “How does this work?” She grunted, trying to pull it over her head. The neck didn’t stretch and Darius looked over her shoulder.

“Is there anything that opens it?”

“Oh, here.” Yazin found a tiny tab and pulled it up, loosening the neck. She lined the features up over her own as Darius held the neck steady, then pulled the zipper down, tightening it across her face.

“Can you breathe?”

“Yeah, there’s no problem.” Yazin said. “The lips even fit over mine and I bet they’ll give us something to put on our teeth to make them pretty. How are you?”

Darius was nosing his way into the empty hair knot. “It’s all right.” Anee’s bun moved from side to side. “I can just about see over your shoulder.”

“Can you feel this?” Yazin tugged a little with her left foot.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Let’s try walking around.” Anee tripped over her own feet and sprawled on the enormous bed. Both pairs of arms levered her up. “One at a time!” She said. “Whoever starts walking has to guide the other. Now follow my lead.” She crawled back and onto her feet, and her next steps were wobbly but held. “Good.” She patted her side. “Just feel how I walk and copy me.”

She daintily stepped around the bed and went towards the closet. “Taking small step is good anyway.” Her hair said. “Anee is supposed to be very shy.”

“I never thought I’d like having this." Anee said, grabbing the full length mirror and hauling it out of the closet they’d put it in, her lower arms helping after a moment. She stood it up and walked around in front. “Aren’t we lovely?” She smiled. The goddess that was reflected was thickly built in places, but for the most part quite slender, especially in the arms and legs made extra toned by Yazin standing on the heels in front. Her upper arms touched her face and hair, pulling the eyelids of the mask over the ones of the girl in it, and basking in the feel of long, soft hair as well as smooth pale skin. Her lower arms felt up her sides and then cupped her breasts. “Hey!” She said, swatting at them and provoking an intra-goddess slap fight.

“They’re mine too now.” Darius said.

“I’m in front, so they’re still more mine than yours. However,” she grabbed her round behind with her upper arms. “Delicious. Oh!” An erection grew from her labia, sticking out and ruining her deific loveliness. “Put that back in.” Her lower arms complied, but in a way that made the girl underneath the mask blush, though the goddess only showed it by her eyes going wide. “That … may not be a good place for it.” She whispered.

“Problems?” Darius teased, but he found a way to tuck himself up, which though it still pressed against Yazin’s back, was still a lot less awkward.

“You’ve grown.” Anee said.

Her lower arms touched her breasts again. “So have you.”

Anee firmly stepped away from the mirror and with a little pushing got herself to turn around to face the trunk. “Let’s see what Natali gave us.” She smirked, knowing Darius couldn’t see her expression as her lower arms opened the trunk and her uppers looked for things. “Here we go.” She said, taking out the smallest pair of pink silk panties she could find. Anee was smooth and hairless, so nothing would show around it. She could have chosen something less girly, but she was in front and Darius needed a reminder that they were a girl.

It took less work to get Darius to move correctly and she swiftly stepped into the panties and pulled them up. As she looked for other things, she caught her lower arms feeling her butt and the lines of the underwear. The next thing out was a bra, which neither of them had any experience in. Between them, however, all four arms managed to figure it out, though the upper arms kept the lower from doing more than a single sweep over her boobs.

Her lower arms went for a pair of skinny jeans, but her upper arms clutched a cami and a dress to her. “I’m in front. I want to wear this.”

“Fine! But you don’t need to be so girly. We’ll look like a girl no matter what.”

“I know, but it’s nice.” Darius didn’t argue any more as she slipped the cami over them and then the dress. It was dark blue, had a hemline above the knee and was made of something sheer that whispered when she moved. The four diaphanous loose sleeves kept her arms tangled for a minute as both pairs tried to go into the same set. She smoothed down the dress and her upper arms lifted out a pair of low heeled sandals.

“I’m not sure…” Darius said, but lifted her feet to slide them in. Two steps had her sprawled back on the bed and she kicked the shoes off. “Later.” He said firmly. “I know I need to learn, but we can go barefoot. Natali is waiting.”

Anee levered herself up on all four hands and when she was standing again she flicked her hair back. “I guess.” She huffed. All four hands went for her hip, and she laughed softly as they clasped.

Being in close quarters was nothing new for Yazin. She and Darius had slept pressed together for years and even with their warm apartment they continued to do so. They’d become comfortable with each other, living together, working together, knowing each others’ strengths and preferences. Having him pressed against her back, bound to her naked body under the goddess skin was a big change, and now that they were having regular meals, it meant that he was having … thoughts. He might pretend it was just the beautiful body of Anee that they inhabited, but it was a polite lie that they both accepted. It was mutual agreement that kept their focus on survival, but now… Yazin wasn’t sure whether she enjoyed his sometimes tentative and sometimes bold advances. Neither of them were ready yet, and suddenly being thrust into a place where they could think about such things was more uncomfortable than the tight skin and false face that still felt a little stiff when she smiled or talked. On the other hand – and she would never admit it to Darius – she was warming to having Anee’s small breasts, her subtly wider hips, and the derriere that was the main reason she wouldn’t mind being in back. Anee might be underdeveloped, but she’d gotten further through her puberty than Yazin had, despite being physically younger.

Darius understood most of this, and like Yazin would never be so rude as to say it out loud. Her body pressed against his awoke feelings he hadn’t contemplated in years. The possibility of romance and more. In truth, his penetration had been because that’s what he thought she meant. He’d never have tried to do something so brazen if he hadn’t thought she was asking. Even having his penis pressed against her back was something he had to work to ignore and it didn’t help that the incline that made it possible for her to easily fit the upper arms meant that his shaft was mostly between her buttocks. None of that, however, was as enchanting as simply being in contact with her like this. Sharing her movement, her identity, even her breathing. It was almost like he was her even though she was now Anee. He knew it had to be as distracting to have him reminding her with his hardness and his breath on her neck, syncing up with her own as he did his best to match her every step and swing. Of course, there was also the terrible, blasphemous, scandalous behavior of a man helping to impersonate a goddess. Working with Yazin to bring the gentle, wise girl deity to life sometimes struck his theological side so hard that he forgot his titillation entirely. Other times his boyish, impish rascality in having everyone believe that he was a beautiful, pristine goddess made him so giddy that he wanted to hug Yazin with the goddess’ arms and tickle her until the goddess begged her traitorous lower hands to stop.

Anee’s upper arms moved, but fell back to her sides when one of her lower hands confidently went for the door handle. She was pleased to find that her body moved even more fluidly even when she started adding a little swing to her step, a bounce to show off how pretty and natural she was to Natali. The man jumped up from the sofa the moment she opened the door and seemed at a loss for words as she approached, head bowed and four hands clasped piously. “All blessings upon this house.” She intoned, then looked up and smiled beatifically as her upper hands spread and her lowers remained clasped. “I thank you for giving me life in the land of mortals.” Anee’s upper hands smoothed her skirt down and her lower hands helped keep her steady as she sat down on the sofa. Her stately, noble demeanor broke when she tucked her skirt forward and tried to cross her legs, eliciting a yelp from her hair. At that, she dissolved into giggles and looked up at Natali, her pink lips pressed hard together to keep from bursting into immoderate laughter.

“You two are marvelous.” Natali said. “I wish I’d brought the cameras so we could start on publicity photos immediately. We thought it would take longer for you to get used to it.”

Anee sprawled on the sofa, abandoning her pretense of propriety. “Thank you. We’re kind of surprised ourselves.”

“I don’t think we plan on taking it off immediately,” her hair said. “You can go and get your stuff if you want.”

“I think I will. This is a great ‘starting’ look for you.” Natali held out a small case. “I almost forgot. Anee’s eyes are usually the same color as her nails.”

Anee took the case and opened it. She swallowed. “I – I think you’ll have to think of a reason I have terrestrial eyes that change. I’ll take the teeth but not the eyes.” She started to shake and her lower arms encircled her, removing the white caps but not the contacts. “Don’t ask, just believe me.”

Natali took the case away wordlessly and left, his expression showing understanding.

She held herself for a moment before something occurred to Darius. “You know,” Anee’s lower hands tapped her chin and she pretended to snap at them, giving him the chance to stick the teeth in her mouth. “We were interrupted when he came in.”

“Oh!” Anee smiled. “And now it’s fair.”

“Totally not!” Darius laughed. “This is much more of a handicap than it needs to be.”

“We’ll see.” She slid off the sofa, her lower hands surprisingly being the ones to hold on to her hemline so that when she reached the floor she was still decent. Her uppers tucked the skirt between her legs, but when she tried to go cross-legged again, Darius balked. “What? It can’t be that bad this way.”

“I’m just stiff is all.”

Anee tittered and her upper hands patted her hair. “I know. I can feel it.”

“Yazin!”

“This is what you get for doing all agility and no stretching.” Yazin chided him. Anee’s upper hands picked up a controller and her lower hands took the other. They were part way through their fifth round when Natali came back, hauling a camera with him.

“This is so much better!” He exclaimed. “Can I do a video of this? A goddess playing a video game against herself will make every front page.” He set the camera up and Anee nodded imperiously, more interested in her game than the visuals Natali was concerned about. What neither the man nor the camera saw was how occasionally her skin would stretch when the teens tried to lean in opposite directions while playing, the dress hiding that and making it seem as if she was sitting calmly using two pairs of hands to play both sides of a popular combat game.

“Perhaps,” Darius said when Natali said he was done, “this is not the best game to showcase. Anee might be better depicted playing something less violent.”

“I disagree,” the goddess said to herself. “We’re still supposed to be young and Anee’s wisdom is often contrasted with her youth. Enjoying something like this while also showcasing a mind able to oppose itself so effectively is perfect.”

Anee yelped as she nodded, Yazin unready for Darius’ unconscious show of agreement pushing against her neck and making her head move a little with his. “You’re right.” Her lower hands grabbed the sofa to help herself up.

“Is there anything else you need?” She asked Natali.

“We need some stills and then tomorrow we’ll set up the photos we’ll publish next of you getting out of the incarnator. We can say it was being checked for proprietary information and that’s why the pictures of you in your new home came out first.”

Anee went back to her ‘pious’ pose. “Like this?”

“For a start.”

Anee sat, she stood, she looked over her shoulder. By the end of the shoot, the teens felt like the people on the ads in store windows. “At least he didn’t make us show off in more than one outfit.” She said to herself, quietly so he wouldn’t get any ideas. When he picked up the camera, she held out an upper hand. “One thing!”

“What is it?”

“Can you get me a swimsuit that will fit this body? I didn’t see one in the trunk.”

Natali looked doubtful. “That sounds risky. I’m not sure-“

“It may be necessary. And some workout clothes. Please?” She did her best ‘innocent little deity’ face.’

“All right.”

“Do gods wear swimsuits?” Darius asked.

Anee shrugged and settled down on the floor again. “You’re the theologian.”

“It’s a private pool. I don’t see why we can’t swim naked. It’s just us – that is, our body. There’s nothing immodest about being nude when you’re alone.”

Anee smiled and picked up the controller again. “Maybe, but do you trust them not to have cameras everywhere? The professional stuff may need something bigger, but I think they’d use a regular security camera if it meant putting out something good.”

“A goddess swimming in the way people did in mythical times would be a great shot.” Darius agreed as Anee started another game against herself. Yazin could hear Darius’ amusement. “The media will try to stick sex into anything, and it is our duty to keep people from the temptation of seeing a goddess as pure as we are naked. So it’s our body now and we don’t let people see it without clothes?”

“When it’s avoidable.” Anee said. “I suspect we’ll get stuck eventually.”

They didn’t need to say anything to each other for Anee to bathe and go to bed. Both wanted to stay together as long as they could, to get used to moving as one and helping each other. It became a game to go through the motions with no sign that she was more than one goddess incarnate seeing to the daily needs of a mortal body. This broke occasionally, like when Darius needed to brush his teeth or when Yazin did as well and had to remove the caps. Anee felt a little silly in cartoon character pajamas, as if even a young goddess ought to wear something less mundane to bed. She curled up, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging herself with both pairs of arms. Both woke up in the middle of the night, but the close, tranquil warmth of the other lulled them back to sleep swiftly. When they got up, however, it was well past time to consider some of the issues of being a gestalt deity. “I’m hungry and I need to pee.” Darius summed it up.

Anee sat, leaning on her hands with her legs open. “That’s why they haven’t been letting us eat too much and been promoting our exercise.” Yazin observed. “So we stay skinny and fit the skin.”

“True. So what do we do?”

“We can’t go down to the cafeteria like this. We haven’t become public yet.”

“I meant the mechanics.”

“I know. I’m thinking.”

“We can try…” Darius said doubtfully. Anee’s lower hands explored inside her panties.

Her upper hands pulled them out. “Our goddess has the right things in the right place for me. We’ll check you when I’m done.”

Anee sat on the toilet and Yazin had no difficulty. When her lower hands went back between her legs, she moved to stop them. “They’re my girl parts too.” Darius said. “Or would you rather I go like this?”

“You’re right. Stay away from mine, though.” Yazin replied. Darius freed himself and went. “I haven’t thought of a better place for it.”

“Neither have I. When I’m in front it’s going to be even harder.” He put himself away and they went to the kitchen. There was enough there for a small breakfast. Yazin insisted Darius slip out of the wig to eat, but she still ended up having to clean her neck off when they were done. “I’m sorry. It’s a really awkward angle.”

“That’s all right. Maybe it’s a good thing. That way we take it off at meal times and that’s when we switch. We’ll skip it for now, but I’ll let you get in front after lunch if we decide to put it back on.”

The clothes she’d asked for were waiting next to the elevator and Anee pounced on the opportunity. “Do you have to pick the most revealing thing?” Darius asked as Yazin pawed through the tight shorts and one-pieces to find a tiny bikini trailing string from the pre-tied knots.

“Why not?” She asked, lower arms working themselves out of the pajama sleeves so she could push her pants down as her upper hands removed her top. Her upper hands slid down her body and pulled her lower hands up to give Darius permission to touch their breasts. “Don’t you love being me?”

Anee’s lower hands went further up and tickled herself under the chin. “You’re feeling better about this today. You wanted to be girly yesterday, but I think you’re really trying to get me excited now.”

“I’ve enjoyed being Anee from the start, but it’s taken some time to get used to having you hot and close.” Yazin agreed. “I – I’m still not quite ready but I’m entertaining the thought that we’ve always wanted to, now we can, and if we’re going to be this close we ought to admit we’re having that kind of fun with it along with all the other ways.”

Her lower hands went down again and squeezed. Her upper hands did the same with her rear. “I know you’ve always had a little bit of envy for the tourist women who wear so little.”

“We may have to be very proper in public, but this is a party goddess when it’s just us.” Yazin smiled with Anee’s face. Her upper hands stroked her hair. “I know you want it. I can feel it.”

“That’s so unfair.” Darius complained as Anee picked up both pieces of her swimsuit and put them on at once.

Anee patted her hair again. “I don’t need to feel you to read you and you don’t need to either.” She giggled. “It makes it easier though.”

“I’d do that even if you’d picked the one piece or the shorts.”

“That’s why I’m no better off than you are.” Anee went to the small pool that had been built for them and carefully descended the short steps on the shallow end. She was slow to go deeper and contented herself with soaking and floating around for awhile until she suddenly felt the urge to dive. The impulse came so swiftly that neither teen knew who started it, but she suddenly leapt forward and went under, speeding across the pool so swiftly with the confident stroke of her four arms that she almost crashed into the opposite wall. She held on to the cement lip and shook her hair out. “Your breathing is good?”

“Probably better than yours if we’re face down.” Darius said.

“Aww.” Anee mock pouted. “So much for floating peacefully on my back.” Her lower arms splashed her face and she flailed with her uppers to try to hit herself in the back. “No fair!” She dove back underwater and struck with less energy back to the shallow end. “It’s a good thing Natali isn’t here or he’d insist we lounge in a deck chair and show off our bikini body.”

“Good point. If we want to get a good workout, we’ll have to change to gym clothes, do our routine – whatever it is – and then back to something presentable or he’ll want pictures of swimsuit Anee and workout Anee. It’s one thing to have some shots to show the goddess is getting used to mortal life, but that would be objectifying.”

Anee climbed out of the pool and padded back to the clothes drop. “We’ll put everything away later.”

After a quick shower, she changed to the tights and T-shirt they found in the box and went to the small gym. “We need more rings.” She said to herself when she jumped and pulled herself up, shaking as only her upper hands had a place to grip to lift the unaccustomed weight of her goddess body. Her lower hands reached and with a jerk she lifted herself up enough to let go and give them a chance to swing. Her lower arms had a little more strength and got herself moving enough to swing to the rope, which all four could grab, though she missed her timing slightly and her lower hands had to scramble to keep herself from sliding down. Despite the protestations from her hair, her next stop was the mat where she stretched and went as far as attempting to do a split, which got part way down before she took pity on her male portion and told him they’d work on it more every day.

Feeling ambitious, she stepped up onto the grid of narrow balance beams an inch above the ground. The goddess lost track of time as she swayed and lost her perch several times before she took some slow steps along, losing her place again at the first turn. Her balance was broken as much by her lower arms as lag from Darius. She was grinning and laughed freely when she made it from one end of her route to the other. “By the way.” She said to herself. “That’s sort of how you’re supposed to walk in heels.”

“Oh. We should try that again soon.”

“Do we have time?”

“You can see the clock better than I can.”

Anee looked up. “I think we can spare five minutes.”

Darius didn’t need to be told and Anee walked confidently to the trampoline. Her bouncing felt strangely more intimate than many of the other things she did as a single person and the shared laughter was richer than usual. To her surprise, she made a high arcing dismount and kept her feet on the landing. “At the rate we’re going, we may never have to take this off.” Darius said.

Anee gave herself a double hug. “Would you like that?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

“I dunno, what about you?” She teased herself.

Her lower hands tried to tweak her nose and her upper hands grabbed them. Soon she was on the floor rolling around wrestling herself and laughing at how silly the goddess must look. Four hands tickled parts of her body, and her eyes were bright with tears when the elevator bell sounded. She froze, looking at the door, and then got up in a whirlwind of limbs, making it into her bedroom just in time to close the door as the elevator opened. “Be right out.” She called, not wanting to be caught in her tights when Natali arrived. Darius gave a token grumble as she selected a full skirted dress, though he got in a little teasing when Yazin decided to wear more utilitarian undergarments. Her second attempt at heels went somewhat better and she only wobbled a little in the low heeled black shoes as she left the room. Her lower left hand scooped up a brush on the way out and she met Natali as she was getting some of the tangles out of her thigh length, supernaturally unruly white mane. She was almost bouncing when she stopped in front of him. “Hi! Oh, I mean,” she smirked and clasped her hands, bowing slightly. “Blessings upon you.”

Natali laughed and bowed back. “All honor, lady.” He gestured to the elevator. “Everything is ready for your awakening.” Anee joined him and they rode up, exiting and turning several corners to reach a brightly lit laboratory. Amongst the scattered equipment was an open fiberglass pod with the imprint of a four armed person in the foam that filled it. “We’re almost ready to take the shots. Uh…” His cheeks turned dark. “Gods don’t generally incarnate in modern girls’ fashion.”

“That’s fine. Where can we change?” She asked.

“Well, that is … at the end of the day … they don’t wear anything when their bodies first form. Where would it come from?”

“The same place as the body itself.” Anee said, crossing her upper arms.

Her lower arms gestured as Darius made a soft point to Yazin, who repeated it in character. “I believe that the traditional garb of my station should be available in any case.”

“Yes, lady.” Natali said, only half in jest. He left and after some arguing returned with a long, diaphanous vestment that shimmered when the light caught it. “Luckily this was already done for a shoot we’re going to do at a temple later. Will it do?”

Anee took it and frowned. “It’s a little sheer. A layer beneath is traditional.”

Natali sighed. “We’re not going to get as much publicity this way.”

Her lower arms crossed since her upper hands had the dress. Her sharp glare had Natali sighing deeper and going to find a simple, loose white smock that wouldn’t be obvious under the vestment but would maintain her modesty. Since the lab was full of cameras, Anee found a nearby empty office to change in. The under-dress had arm holes, but the vestment was open at both sides, making her happier she’d insisted on the layer underneath. Since the whole point was for those parts not to show, she kept her own undergarments on under the dress. She had to laugh at how her lower hands were as interested in swishing the robe as her uppers. “Do you think we might be intimidating him?”

“I hope so. We look the part and as long as we act like a goddess, even Natali seems to go along with it.” Anee swept back into the lab and gracefully accepted Natali’s assistance in settling herself inside the pod and arranging her clothing to fit in with her. When her arms and legs were in their proper place, Natali closed the lid. “There’s going to be a lot of lights and so on since we’re filming this like it’s the real thing.” He said. “Can you pretend to be disoriented when we open it up?”

Anee rolled her eyes. The ‘dizzy with hunger’ routine was one of the teens’ oft used means of getting something to eat, an act which often was tinged with reality. “We’ll manage.” She said. To herself she murmured, “If all else fails, you can just start acting on your own and that should make us very unsteady.” She felt her lower arms twitch, wanting to reach up to squeeze her upper hand, but Darius held their pose.

There were lights and sounds of machinery. At one point their foam bed rocked. Anee closed her eyes and let herself drift, taking the opportunity of a nap that would make her groggy when it was her turn to do something. The pod opened and Natali was standing over her with one of the scientists next to him. Anee opened her eyes and deliberately missed her grip the first time she tried to pull herself into a sitting position, spilling some of her hair into her eyes. She took Natali’s offered hand and Darius produced a catch in her step as she tottered out. “Where…” She blinked several times and her lower hands brushed her vestments as she reached out with her free upper hand. “Is this the mortal world?”

“Yes, your worship.” Natali said in a quietly respectful voice.

Anee smiled kindly. “’Miss’ will be enough if you feel the need.” She tripped again – Yazin’s doing – and Natali held her up. “This body you’ve made for me is not quite what I am accustomed to.” She looked at her nails. “Though it is a very good approximation.” Anee pretended to peer at a reflective console. “Yes. You’ve done very well. My eyes will take adjusting to. I guess you can’t do everything.” She brushed her hair back. “Everything important is here.” She linked arms with Natali, becoming more confident. “I am eager to begin my ministry.”

“Your transition may have weakened you, miss.” Natali said as she continued to hang on to him. “Perhaps you ought to rest.”

Anee yawned and her lower hands pretended to need to steady her on a wall. “Yes. I fear I do.” She tried to look surprised. “In fact, I think I may be hungry.”

“We’ve arranged for everything, Miss Anee. Let me show you to your suite.” They left the room and Natali gestured that the cameras were off.

“Good?” Anee asked, letting go and stretching, her upper hands flicking her hair out of her face.

“Very good, miss.” Natali smiled back. “You’re a natural.”

“Thank you.” She said with a little bit of her ‘goddess’ tone. Her lower hands swished her dress again and she nodded at Darius’ silent suggestion. “You’ll want pictures of me walking around and getting used to my new abode.” She linked arms with Natali again. “We may as well start now.”

The woman with the camera followed them into the elevator, taking frequent pictures of Anee being guided around by Natali. There was a completely real stir of surprise when she entered the café and she was actually glad of the many people who insisted on taking pictures with her as she ate. It meant she could easily replicate a strained look of grace and hard fought serenity at the fuss and her own continued weakness at being newly incarnated. The sheer volume of self-important managers who thought they needed to be seen with her taxed her own patience, but it also meant she didn’t need to actually eat that much and so she didn’t feel bad that Darius had none. Of course it would have been simple to eat with one set of hands and be social with the other, but she was saving that for later. It would be better for the goddess to seem a little clumsy at first, having to actually use muscles to control her limbs rather than pure will. Darius whispered things to her that helped keep her in character; things Anee would say or tell stories about.

When she felt – and apparently looked – ready to collapse, Natali solicitously took her away and whisked her to her apartments, which she made a show of examining while looking very pleased. The angles made sure that only one bedroom door was ever shown, and Natali said they’d pass off the triple bed as a precaution in case she had trouble sleeping naturally and thrashed around. She was drooping visibly by the time they were done and didn’t need to pretend when she crawled under the covers and went to sleep despite it being only early afternoon. Darius wasn’t quite as stressed and only dozed as Yazin recovered.

When Yazin woke up, she took the mask off and with Darius’ help, they removed the Anee skin. After bathing together, Darius found the notes Natali had left about cleaning the skin, which was simple and done quickly before they had lunch. Darius’ fidgeting as they ate was more than enough of a sign of what he was thinking about, and as soon as they were done Yazin got into the back part of the skin and was helping Darius into the front. He was unsteady on the inclined feet and Yazin held him with one arm as she zipped up the front of the skin with her other hand. “By the time you’re done, you’ll be a lot better in heels.” She suggested.

He smiled at that, and they sat down so he could put the mask on without losing their balance. The mask’s lips and cheeks felt strange, though the warmth from Yazin’s face hadn’t quite left it and it was still supple. Anee sat with her upper hands on the bed with her shoulders back and her lower hands on her hair as Yazin nosed into the space in the wig. She had an almost comically confused expression as she faced the mirror, then broke into a shy smile. “I look just like you did.”

“That’s the point.”

Anee got up and they replayed the previous day’s balancing practice as Darius learned how different it was to be in control and in the front. Yazin knew he was getting the hang of it when the goddess started sneaking looks at herself and touching her breasts and the penis hanging from her vulva. Darius hadn’t tucked himself away at all when he put the skin on and her lower hands went to her hips as her upper hands got more distracted. “Oh.” Anee said. She smiled sheepishly. “I should put that away.”

“Yes.” Yazin said. “Then figure out something to do with your voice.”

Trying to push himself forward and into the suit’s belly left an unsightly bulge, so she then attempted to push it back and somehow wrap the suit’s labia over it so it would stay. This lasted a couple of steps and then Darius swung free again. She walked over to the wardrobe and as her upper hands kept trying to push it back between her legs, she selected the tightest pair of spandex boy shorts with her lower hands. When the organ was back inside again, she put them on and pulled the underpants up until they were clinging to her rear and outlining her now totally female looking sex. “There. That should hold it.” Yazin said. “We’ll have to find something to wear under the skin next time. Maybe if we discreetly say something to Natali he’ll have an idea.”

“Until then, no swimming.” Anee said sadly. She became cheerful again at the thought of being allowed to pick their outfit and chose skinny jeans and a low cut T-shirt. The next half hour was spent with both teens getting more and gigglier as Yazin tried to get Anee to sound like her and failed completely. “This may not work.” She said at last, flopping down on the sofa.

“Another thing to ask Natali for. I’m sure they’ll have something.”

Anee touched her breast and sighed. “It’s not so fun when they don’t have yours in them.” She said.

“So it’s not about the boob, it’s about the girl who enjoys it being touched.” Yazin risked licking the back of Darius’ smooth, alabaster neck. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“No. I kind of figured it was more about teasing you.” Anee smiled. “So you did enjoy it.”

“When you weren’t too incessant, yes.” Her lower arms hugged her.

Anee pulled the neck down on her top and lifted a breast out of her bra. “It’s good to be able to explore it.”

“Take your time. They’re more yours than mine now.” Anee felt the nipple and examined her mammary closely, pushing it back into her top guiltily when the elevator bell rang. She made sure her shirt was straight and got up just as the doors opened.

She waved with her right upper. “Hi.”

“Oh, Darius…” Natali sounded hesitant.

“Yeah, that’s one thing I needed to talk to you about.” Darius said in a very ‘goddess’ way. “I appear to have developed a masculine voice. Could you arrange something that turns this voice into my proper one?”

“I – maybe, miss.” Natali said, still sounding unsure.

“Also, I require a rather … intimate appliance.” She looks down and her upper hands clasp. “Ah, I find myself growing something decidedly unfeminine. If there is a way for my male portion to be bound in something that helps to combine it with the female section…” She trails off, unable to finish the thought.

“I think I understand. That may be easier to arrange.” Natali shakes his head. “Have you seen the comments yet?”

Anee shakes her head. “I – I’ll break character for a moment – we didn’t grow up with computers and most people we meet online who might seem friendly would also be the kind of people who passed us on the street without even looking our way when we were hungry. It’s hard to forget that.”

“You – Anee – will need a profile that you should post to occasionally. We can have our own people do most of it, but it would help you keep up with events if you checked it occasionally.” Natali went to the computer they rarely used and opened a news site.

Anee seated herself in front and held herself so her hair bun could read over her shoulder. After a few minutes, she was giggling with both voices. “I’m glad to see most people think I’m real.” She said acerbically. “How nice of them to deign to believe their goddess cares enough to come to them.”

“We’ll be shutting up some of the rumors today.” Natali said. “It’s time for your first public appearance.”

“Oh no! And me sounding like a boy!” Anee said.

“Yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to switch back today. I understand the desire for equal practice, but we can’t fix your voice with so little notice and … if something were to slip out in the other way it could be disastrous.”

“I’ll be right out.” Anee promised, getting up and skipped back to her room.

“That’s a shame.” Yazin said as they got out. She put her hand on his. “We’ll try again when he’s got the things we need to do it right.”

Darius held the skin open for her, but something made him drop it and again there was the mutual understanding right before they both moved for the kiss. There was none of the teasing or the flowering lust they’d felt as their sex drives had been awakened after their literal starvation. Only a pure understanding of the other, a desire in each to let the other know how much they cared. Yazin was glad to cover her blushing face with the white Anee mask that betrayed nothing of that shy joy except the little smile that the goddess kept as she dressed in Yazin’s preferred method of a high waisted ankle length dress with a fitted bodice, pantyhose, and pumps with a moderate heel. The hose made them both feel good, and even Darius agreed that for her first outing, the goddess should be fashionable, feminine, but sensible. She followed Natali to the elevator and to her surprise was whisked to the ground floor. There were reporters and camera crews on the steps outside and she gave them a four-handed wave before she was helped into a limousine.

“The ‘daily life’ photos we took of you in the apartment two days ago were a sensation.” Natali explained. “So we ‘convinced’ you to do a small event. Tickets were given to a select group from the press, and the rest were disseminated by lottery to those who your sister of fortune favored. You’ll walk on stage, sit down, some of our marketing people will make speeches, and then we’ll set up a table and you sign photos for your adoring followers.

“Okay.” Anee said, resting her hands in her lap. “Is there anything else?”

“There may be clerics.” Natali said, looking nervous. “There are rumors that some of the faithful were coerced into giving their tickets to priests of her – your faith.”

Anee smiled. “I look forward to meeting with my devoted servants, though I shall be firm in admonishing them against such behavior towards those whose tickets they took. They cannot act so selfishly.”

“I knew you’d know what to do.”

Anee’s lower hands moved up a little to hold her belly. One of her upper hands stroked her hair to acknowledge the affection. She was all business when she got out of the car; waving, smiling at the crowd on either side of the barriers. On a whispered suggestion, she stopped in front of a little girl who was about to fall over the fence she’d climbed. Anee smiled softly at her, gathered her into her arms, kissed her forehead and handed her back to her astonished father, her lower hands clasping his arm as he accepted the girl. “Children are a greater blessing than gods. Watch her carefully.” Everyone was so focused on the girl that no one saw her sway a little on her heels and one lower hand steady her on the barrier she was reaching over. Darius again accepted that Yazin was right to pick a loose, long skirt for the occasion since it kept people from seeing her occasional catch or the twisting of her ankle when they didn’t quite get their step right. Darius was getting better, but it would take him a few more tries to be totally graceful in heels.

Anee was bright and cheerful as she swept into the crowded room, separated from the small audience by a stanchion and velvet rope, though the private guards were more of a deterrent. She ascended to the low stage and sat in the center, flanked by Natali and several men and women she didn’t know. Her smile became soft and sleepy as she let the speeches flow over her, uninterested in the false boasts of the executives. She kept her hands clasped together the whole time, Yazin and Darius enjoying the secret romantic gesture as they tried not to shift impatiently. It was easier to do so together than it would have been if they’d stayed apart; they could draw strength from their close contact and the budding love they were exploring.

Anee almost missed her introduction and couldn’t help a tiny yawn as she stood in her pious pose and bowed. “Thank you. I look forward to meeting those who were so fortunate and so eager to see me today.” The table was set up for her and she nodded her thanks to Natali when he pushed in her chair for her. She crossed her legs at her ankle and smoothed her skirt with her lower hands as she greeted the first person in line. To make sure nothing untoward happened there were guards flanking her a step behind and the visitors were given a choice of photos for her to sign which were stacked another small table just as they reached her. She fell into a pattern of saying something gracefully benevolent and shaking or clasping with her upper hands while her lowers signed the pictures. Yazin felt bad for Darius and would have switched but then her arms would have been crossed vertically and that wouldn’t have been nearly as graceful or natural.

It was almost a surprise that she was through over a third of the ‘supplicants’ when the first cleric stormed onto the stage, his short beard bristling. “You are not Anee.” He accused.

“I am pained at your doubt.” She replied sadly. “It is because of these untrusting times that I chose to heed the call of these cunning engineers of corporeality.”

“But not those of your sworn priests!” He countered.

“It is regrettable that the powers of sorcery were declared anathema four hundred and sixty-eight years ago.” Anee said, discreetly signing the photo. “And that my priesthood would be so callous as to take away the opportunity of a common person favored by the gods to meet me.” She shook her head again.

The cleric was shuffled away, but they were less than two thirds through when another got up the pluck to argue. He was dressed in the traditional robes of a higher ranking vicar. “It is wisdom to question an unlooked for and unlikely gift coming from those you do not trust.” He said.

“That is true.” Anee replied. Darius whispered something that Yazin tried to say. “Rash ptvh hva kmv mbtsr 'em sh'eryv ptvhym vlla shmyrh.”

The priest bowed and departed without his signed picture.

The final one came near the end. “I have spoken with my colleagues and there is hope.”

“Āśā nirāśā kē li'ē saṛaka para pahalā kadama hai.” Anee replied.

“Yes, it is.”

“You must know you can be harmed before you accept a risk. I make no judgments. Only declare who and what I am.” Anee smiled and held out two signed pictures. “For your friend who left swiftly.”

The last cleric didn’t bow, but took Anee’s hand with a smile that mirrored hers. “I admire your consideration.”

Anee was exhausted when she got back to her apartment, and collapsed on the sofa. Her lower hands massaged her belly as her upper hands went to the back of her neck. “Thanks for the words.” She said to herself.

“You did most of the real work.” Darius replied.

“Your hands must be cramped.”

“They are.”

Anee looked over and saw a small box on the coffee table. She picked it up and opened it. “ ‘Let us know if this helps. Thanks for doing so well today – Natali.” She lifted out a slender gold choker with a tiny medallion that had an open chip on the inner side. She handed it to her lower hands and Darius ducked out of the wig to try it on, both of them guessing what it was for.

“Does it – yes it does!” Darius giggled in Yazin’s voice. “We’re going to have a lot of fun with this.”

“This too.” Yazin held up what looked like a thong with a woman’s slit sculpted on the outside. On the inside was an impression of a male member. “Now you won’t be as curious about mine.”

“Of course I will.” Darius said. “Yours is real. Though I’ve been really tempted to touch our shared one more.”

“Now you won’t have to.”

“That’s a shame.”

Yazin’s cheeks turned dark under the mask. “Is it?”

Darius kissed her neck. “Of course it is. Not that we’ve gotten that far, but I hoped…”

“When we do, I’ll be very glad to let you.”

“Good.”

“It’s not quite time for bed. How about a swim?”

“Together?”

“Of course.”

The goddess ran, laughing with two voices, for her bedroom and her array of swimsuits. Naturally she picked the bikini and dove into the pool a few moments later, heedless of the dangers, knowing that she was in perfect harmony with herself.

A pair of Themed Pairs
By Paul Calhoun

I felt like riffing on a couple of ideas without making a big series out of them. Two love doll stories and two prehensile limbed alien stories. Sweet doll, stuck doll, exploited alien, opportunistic alien.

Adult for when you work out what the words 'venerate' and 'gratify' mean. Oh, and sex dolls. But really those two words are a hell of a lot dirtier in context.

Love Doll 1 - Sweet
Ben and Horace looked at Kyrie, who lay on the bed in her pajamas, the covers drawn up to just above her perky breasts, appearing to be asleep. With her soft, smooth skin, wavy blonde hair, hourglass figure and the round face of a girl who would be more likely to be called cute or pretty than beautiful, Kyrie looked like a real catch. She’d been made that way, after all. Soon, Jeff would be home to spend another night with Kyrie, like he did almost every night. Having a sex doll with a full wardrobe — including a few very expensive gowns and costumes - and who slept in a bed while he was away seemed like really weird to his two best friends, but when they looked at its full lips open just a little in silent invitation, they could almost understand his fascination. Kyrie looked hot and though they would never take her for a test run, they’d heard enough from Jeff to know that she was a very satisfying partner. They’d seen her remote control and she did have quite a few features that made her a nice toy. They’d never be able to fathom why he was so emotionally invested, but they did admire his taste and when they were sleeping on the couch after saying something that sounded right at the time, they almost envied him.

They also really liked him and when Ben suggested a very special birthday present for him, Horace agreed to help. He personally wouldn’t have done what Ben was about to, but he thought it was a very thoughtful thing and if Ben didn’t mind, Horace wasn’t about to stop him. Between the two of them, they’d made the necessary arrangements and bought the items necessary to make this a birthday Jeff would never forget.

They started by rolling in a large suitcase which had been loaded with everything they’d need. The first thing out was a set of prosthetics which Horace helped to strap, slide and tighten onto Ben, nipping his waist, adding a pair of silicone breasts to his chest and surrounding his crotch area with silicone padding, tubes and openings that gave him wider hips, a softly rounded butt and a pouch that did a reasonably good job of simulating a female sex.

So far they’d made their preparations without much conversation, but as Horace laid out the next part of their present, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ben picked up the empty copy of Kyrie they’d purchased from the person who’d made her. “I wouldn’t have gone this far if I wasn’t sure.” They’d made it clear that what they wanted was something that could be worn by a person and though the sex doll maker had not done very many of them, his results did not disappoint. From the pink painted nails to the soft blonde wig, it was not just a copy but one that had been made with a lot more flexibility than the original. Where Kyrie had open orifices that could be posed, the copy had the same but intended to cover similar movable parts underneath.

The opening was on the back and almost invisible, with a track that extended from the back of the head down to the base of the buttocks. At first it seemed like Ben wouldn’t need any help since he only had minimal difficulty working the legs up and wiggling into the crotch portion, which had a small lip on the inside which stuck into the artificial sex and made a seamless connection between the functional inside already being worn by Ben and the detailed outside meant to give the correct appearance. From then on, however, he needed Horace’s assistance in getting his arms and hands in without damaging the soft, delicate skin which had been made as thin as possible so as to be wearable for the time period they’d said they intended to go for. Ben made a burrowing movement as he stuck his face into the Kyrie copy’s head and filled the silicone molded outer face with the inside one that had been modeled to fit over his own. This had meant that the copy Kyrie had slightly broader features and a tiny bit longer nose than the original, but Ben hoped Jeff wouldn’t notice in his excitement.

He opened and closed his mouth to get his teeth into the copy’s and to align its lips with his while Horace stretched the eyelids over his and stuck them on with a light adhesive. Ben stood as still as he could for the final part when Horace — straining and yet afraid to use his full strength - closed the opening and with a very fine paintbrush sealed it with a quick drying mixture that would mimic the skinlike texture and appearance of the rest of the sex doll covering. When he could run a finger down the new Kyrie’s back and find no difference, he told Ben that it was done.

Ben decided to see how dexterous he could be with his hands covered in the sex doll by putting the blue tinted contacts in himself. He did it on the fifth try and Horace stripped the sex doll Kyrie so he could prop her up next to Ben Kyrie. Ben stood absolutely still, relaxing his features and barely breathing as he looked in the mirror and Horace examined them both from all angles. The naked sex doll was almost indistinguishable from Ben when he wasn’t fidgeting or moving the chest up and down with his breaths.

“Perfect,” Horace said.

“Pretty damned close,” Ben replied. “It’s a shame about the voice.”

“Kyrie never says anything anyway. Not that we can hear.” Horace said. He put the pajamas back on the Kyrie doll and posed it back on the bed.

“True. Why are you putting it back?”

“Do you want to explain to Jeff why we put his favorite girl in a closet? He can decide what to do with the extra later on.”

Ben nodded and for a split second Horace wished it was him getting the birthday surprise. The animated doll moved like Ben and talked like Ben, but she looked like a wet dream. “Let’s finish up then.”

Something Jeff’s friends could understand a little bit better — even though neither had any particular interest in it — was that Jeff had a thing for animal girls. Kyrie had fox and tiger costumes, but for this birthday, they wanted to give Jeff something new that he could take away with him when the rest of the present had to take off the doll skin and go back to his own life. For that reason, they’d bought a fluffy cat costume for the occasion. Modeled on a Persian, the costume’s downy layer of white fur was crowned between the dark ears with a wig of blonde hair that was the exact same type that Kyrie wore. Dark accents made it clear that the fur was layered on top of a skintight body suit. The person who made it had offered to give it high heels and a tail harness, but since it was destined for an inanimate object, they didn’t think it was worth it. The normally squashed Persian features had been arranged to look more like Kyrie’s and when Ben had it on, she looked less like a cat and more like Kyrie had grown soft fur a tail and pointy ears. After twisting, bouncing and getting a feel for the combined costumes, Ben lay down on the bed next to Kyrie and closed his eyes. “Wake me when Jeff gets in.”

It had been a long day for Jeff and he was looking forward to a quiet night with Kyrie, snuggled under a blanket while they watched their favorite shows. Since it was his birthday, he also figured he’d get a little extra from her before bed. It wasn’t often that he had her give him a blow job, but it was a special day. Of course he knew she didn’t really dislike doing it since she couldn’t have a mind to refuse, but he’d found that getting sucked off was something worth making a special occasion out of and besides it stressed the motors in her mouth and head sections. He didn’t want to break his little Kyrie.

He wasn’t too thrilled when Horace met him at the door. Jeff didn’t know what Horace wanted, but he wasn’t in the mood for a boy’s night out. “Can’t we celebrate my birthday on the weekend?”

Horace shook his head. “Ben’s here too and we want to give you your present today. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Can I at least put my work clothes away?” Jeff asked, trying to move past Horace.

“Just let us show you and then you can do whatever you want.”

Jeff sighed but he knew better than to argue. It’d be over more quickly if he let them do whatever they wanted and then leave. Horace went into Jeff’s room and a moment later emerged with a long-legged, curvy girl in a fluffy white cat costume. She was wearing a red rhinestone studded collar and a matching red leash was clipped to it, with the other end in Horace’s hand. Not sure what was going on, Jeff sat down on his sofa as the cat girl did the same and gestured for him to join her. She hugged him and nuzzled his face with hers. Horace put the leash in Jeff’s hand. “Have fun.” He left.

“Where’s Ben?” Jeff asked. “I’m not sure I understand —“

The cat girl put a furry finger to Jeff’s lips. She reached down and extracted a sheaf of flash cards from under the sofa. Apparently this had all been prepared ahead of time.

“I am your pet.” Jeff read out. “For the next twenty-four hours I will be your willing partner in whatever you might enjoy doing. Kinky.” He added. “But I’m not sure I feel comfortable-“

Again the cat girl gently silenced him and then motioned for him to go on to the next card.

“Remove my mask for a birthday surprise.” Apprehensively, Jeff reached under the mask and tugged, pulling the feline features up and away. The mask fell out of his nerveless fingers when he saw Kyrie’s face underneath. “What’s going on?”

Again, there came the motion towards the cards though this time Jeff could see the patient but amused expression on his sex doll’s face.

“We thought this would make a nice change from your usual date with an inanimate female. We realize it’s still not the real thing, but we hope it’s a closer simulation than you usually get.” At this point Kyrie leaned over and kissed Jeff. The effect was electric on Jeff and it took Kyrie a few minutes to calm him down and get him to read the rest of the cards. “Again, twenty-four hours of whatever you like as long as your partner is free and unharmed at the end of it. She may decide something’s too much for her and we hope you’ll respect that. Happy birthday, Ben and Horace.” Jeff looked up. “Ben?”

Kyrie looked at him with charming innocence. ‘Who, me?’ Her expression seemed to say. She picked up the cat head piece, flicked the hair out of the way and put it on again. Then she lay down with her head in his lap and waited for him to make a decision.

Jeff pet the cat girl for a long time, content to enjoy the feeling of a warm and living body as his Kyrie doll. Finally, he lifted her head up and stood, pulling Kyrie up and along with him to the bedroom. If Ben was willing to dress up as a sex doll for him, he was definitely going to be willing to do a few things sex dolls were supposed to. When he saw the inanimate Kyrie in the pose he’d left her in, he took her out and laid her on the couch, then returned. He took the collar off of the animate Kyrie so she wouldn’t get hurt if things got lively and had her lie down on top of him. As she wiggled around on top of him, giving him a fuzzy massage, Jeff knew that the admonition in the cards was unnecessary. He was going to be very gentle with his lady, brought to life by friendship for twenty-four hours.

Later on, he stripped her of the feline costume and marveled at how well they’d replicated Kyrie on Ben. She looked fabulous and was all the more stunning for being able to move on her own, to sometimes even take the initiative. He was looking forward to waking up next to this beauty who could kiss him, stroke him and love him back. It was almost enough to make him think he should start dating again.

Love Doll 2 — Trapped

Ken moved as quietly as he could through the empty house. He thought it was empty. According to the boss, the owner was always out at this time and he’d have at least an hour to work. That was plenty. When he was sure nobody was home, Ken started his search. He didn’t know the owner’s name, not that it mattered. All that was important was that he had to find a certain set of documents — he’d seen similar ones and knew what they looked like — take them and get going. He was to leave no clue that the home had been broken into other than the missing papers. Whatever the boss wanted with them, it had to be important; Ken was being paid really well for this and the boss didn’t do breaking and entering very often.

Ken had searched almost every room when he opened the bedroom door, froze and then ducked back, mouthing obscenities. There was a dame in there! As the image resolved in his memory, he changed that to, ‘really good looking dame.’ She had been looking straight at him and yet there was no outcry or movement. Millimeter by millimeter, Ken stuck his head back in. The broad was still in the bed. She acted like she was asleep, but her baby blue eyes were wide open, as were her legs, displaying her black edged red lingerie. If she hadn’t been such a babe, Ken might have run for it right then, but he had to look closer at the legs clothed only in red nylon stockings and the long, styled blonde hair. Of course, what really got his attention was her tight corset top straining to hold her already enormous boobs up so that Ken doubted that the woman could see her own high heel enclosed feet. That was when he realized that the skin was a little too soft looking and the face too symmetrical. The doll face was a doll!

Ken took a moment to admire the figure before going back to his work. If it hadn’t been for the boss’s very specific orders, he might have tried the doll out. Instead, he went on to open drawers, closets and look under the bed. He was actually halfway underneath the bed when he found a box. Shining a light from his phone on it, he saw that it was the documentation he needed. He was pulling it out when he heard the door slam. He’d taken too long after all!

The window was painted shut and if he ran out now, he’d be seen and possibly caught. Looking around, Ken’s eyes kept resting on the doll. What a looker! It was a shame she was a sham. The idea kept popping up and he kept forcing it back down. There had to be another way. With a growing feeling of fatalism, Ken propped the doll up and had a closer look. There was a zipper half hidden by some skin that flaked off — he’d seen a can of some gunk that was supposed to be used to hide it — and the corset was only lightly tied. The doll seemed to have been built to need it only as decoration. He untied the knot on the corset and pushed it down which also loosened or removed the panties and stockings which were all attached. He worked it open and took out the poseable featureless mannequin inside.

Left only with only an empty shell of some thick stuff that was like skin on the outside but rubber inside and a lot of squishy padding, Ken saw that his idea might work. Too bad. Somewhat disappointed that his rough treatment wasn’t damaging the doll in any way, Ken shoved his legs in and pulled it up over his clothes, shoving the documents into his pockets. He didn’t have time to strip and it would only leave incriminating evidence. Very uncomfortable, Ken hiked it up over his middle, feeling something slimy and wet start to seep through his pants. Yuck! It hadn’t been cleaned out since it was last used. Fighting down revulsion, Ken pulled it up over his arms and ducked into the head. His sight was reduced to almost nothing through the pinholes in the glassy eyes and he had to find a way to get rid of a few pouches that were meant to be the doll’s mouth and nostrils. He didn’t know how long he had, so he was liberal with the sealing goop.

When he hiked up the corset and attached bits, he realized that he was a lot pudgier than the doll was supposed to be. Time to suck it up — literally. He let out as much air as he could and got the laces as far as he could given the time allotted and the fact that he couldn’t feel more than a dull pressure on his fingers even as the laces dug hard into the doll’s skin. Tying it off, he found a mirror and did a quick check, arranging the clothes better and primping the doll’s hair before hastily leaping — more falling given how unsteady he was on the doll’s high heeled slingbacks - into the bed and lying prone, waiting for his chance. He didn’t have to wait long.

A short, balding man in a long coat entered the room. Putting the coat over a chair, he stripped and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Just as Ken was daring to make a move towards the door, the bathroom opened and he had to go limp again. The owner of the house didn’t put anything on before climbing into the bed. Ken couldn’t see him very well, but he could just about feel the man massaging the doll’s breasts. Ken tried to lay still and not breathe much, but as the owner climbed on top of him and began to rub and kiss the doll, Ken knew it was hopeless. He could have held still and let the owner exhaust himself but he couldn’t do it in that restrictive corset. He’d pass out! When the owner put his arms around the doll’s middle and pressed his lips against the doll’s Ken made his move. He wrapped his arms and legs around the man and kissed him back as hard as he could. Faced with a love doll in naughty bedroom attire suddenly coming to life and making a move on him, the owner understandably lost his cool. He screeched, wrenched out of Ken’s embrace and ran.

Ken had no idea how long he’d bought himself, so he wasn’t about to waste time. Scrabbling at the laces of the corset, he found that they’d gotten stuck in the goop and it had hardened around them. A try on the heels showed that they were impossible to remove as well. The whole outfit was stuck to him with whatever that gunk was. Tottering over to the chair, Ken grabbed the long trenchcoat style garment and wrapped it around himself. Knotting the belt around himself reminded Ken of how nipped his waist had become. He also didn’t need to look at himself in the mirror to know that the coat had been meant for a shorter person, so he was showing a lot of stocking clad leg, most of his cleavage and probably would be flashing a lot more if he took long steps. Mincing around on the heels, Ken was sure that the last part wouldn’t be a problem. He looked like a stripper at the beginning of her routine. Taking as deep a breath as he could — and inflating his bosom so that it showed even more clearly in the coat — Ken started out for the club where his boss operated from.

He didn’t dare drive back in the doll and the walk downtown was the most painful and frightening period in his life. Every few steps, he’d become aware of how much his feet hurt and he’d hear a whistle or a catcall from passersby. Some offered him money, some wanted the blonde bombshell for free and a few made admonitory comments about being a streetwalker. Ken ignored them all and tried to walk a little faster when he saw he was being followed — making his feet hurt even more and his back complain as the colossal boobs bounced and strained his upright posture.

He was relieved and amazed when he made it to the club. Normally the bouncer would let him through with no questions, but not looking like this! The bruiser put a hand on his shoulder, the only place he could put anything without a sexual harassment charge. “All right, what’s under the coat?”

“Nothing you need to see, Tony.” Ken said.

“Ken? Is that you?” Tony broke into a wide grin. “Is there something I need to know?”

“No! Just let me through.”

“Nothing doing. You’ll have to open the coat; boss’s rules.”

Ken sighed but undid the belt and shed the trench entirely, hanging it on the bouncer’s arm as he stood slack-jawed at the sight of Ken’s doll body fully revealed. “I’ll let you keep this.” Ken said, brushing past. He figured the boss would appreciate it if he used the predicament to the gain of the organization, so he went into what he hoped was an exaggerated catwalk strut as he crossed the main floor to the private offices. It also occurred to him that it would be helpful that no one outside his employer’s men would know he’d been in or out that night. He was glad to be out of sight and able to drop the act on entering the offices and went into the boss’s private suite after knocking in a predetermined pattern.

“I was expecting Ken. Not a messenger.” The boss said, looking sharply at Ken.

“Right here.” Ken replied. “It’s a long story but I got out with the documents.”

“Where could you possibly have hidden them?”

“Under the skin.” Ken said. “I had to get into it when the guy came home early. If you can find someone who is really careful with a knife, you can get me out and get the papers.”

The boss looked Ken up and down and then one of the barkeeps burst in. “Boss! There’s — oh, hello, darling. I was just coming in to tell the boss about you.” He gave Ken a broad wink. “I’m willing to pay whatever you want to go out there and mingle a little. A hot looker like you will really bring in the money.”

“Cut it out, Ernie, it’s me.” Ken spat.

“Oh. In that case, as much as you want and keep your mouth shut.”

The boss smiled coldly. “I don’t need those documents until tomorrow, Ken. I’m willing to back Ernie on this. It will make a quite a large bonus.” He couldn’t see Ken’s expression behind the permanently flirtatious doll face, but he pressed on. “In fact, I might have lost the number for Nicky. I’m afraid he’s the only one I’d trust for a job like this.”

“Aww, boss…” Ken was beginning to realize that the doll skin retained sweat and it was getting wet inside.

“No excuses. This will be good for both of us. If the extra income doesn’t sway you, remember that with your current appearance, you can get as much free alcohol from the customers as you need. I encourage it as long as you don’t lose your head and start talking.”

“Yeah,” Ernie said, “We can tell them she’s a special guest. A mute supermodel. A really thirsty mute supermodel. As long as Ken dances with one or two guys every so often, we’ll be golden. Come on, hotcheeks, let’s go.”

Ken squared himself and followed Ernie. If nothing else, he was at least going to be able to get so drunk he might forget the things he’d have to do to get the drinks. He didn’t believe for one moment that Ernie would stop at having him dance with the men. On the other hand, there were a few people Ken didn’t like who frequented the club. Maybe he’d get some blackmail material.

Alien 1 - Exploited

The situation was tense. There were four hostages in the hotel room and the police knew that their captors were all armed. They’d called for room service and though under normal circumstances that would be the perfect time for an ambush, the men had proved already that they possessed the photographic records of every member of the force on planet as well as those of the hotel casino wait staff. A simple scanner would tell them if the person delivering their food was a hotel employee or an undercover cop. Several plans had been suggested, such and beaming in or trying to burst through the walls with a phase disruptor, but none of them had stood up to scrutiny. The only way in would be if they could get someone inside without the crooks knowing it and then grab them by surprise. Even hiding someone in the cart would be impossible since the crooks had stipulated that the carts come without their usual coverings.

“I have an idea,” Thirzik said at last. The Gyterion’s trunk tentacles — of which its body was mostly made of - waved slowly in pensive thought as its uppers vibrated to produce human speech. “Perhaps if one of us were to go in looking like an employee.”

“We don’t have time,” the captain said. “That kind of surgery takes far too long.”

“Not necessarily.” The Gyterion replied. “I’ve never tried this, but I have read of its effectiveness.” Thirzik stiffened and seemed to shrink. Its trunk tentacles compressed into its body, producing a recognizable shape. Its head tentacles also rearranged themselves until they were in place to create a replicated human face. All in all, it looked like a statue of one of the hotel maids done in gray rope. The effect was lost when Thirzik had to spread its tentacles slightly to speak. “Is this an acceptable facsimile?”

The captain and his lieutenants walked around the Gyterion. “It’s an admirable shape.” The captain said. “A faithful recreation of every detail except that it’s the wrong color.”

“And you can see the joins where the tentacles come together,” one lieutenant added.

“That gives me an idea.” The other said and he raced out, coming back with a large cosmetics box. “I used to do a little work in the entertainment industry as a makeup artist. Go get one of their uniforms.”

A private was sent and returned as the lieutenant was setting up. “Good.” He put the stylized old French maid’s uniform on Thirzik, glad that it had been intended for use and so had a longer skirt than the kind worn downstairs in the casino by the girls meant to attract customers. In fact it reached the ground so that Thirzik didn’t have to try to walk bipedally which would have been a disaster.

Slathering a thick foundation over all of Thirzik’s exposed parts, the lieutenant — Harry — started painting on features. Glue on fingernails, eyeliner, lipstick and more all contributed to turning the disturbingly feminine Gyterion into a reasonably attractive human. The final touch was putting a medium length brunette wig over the bald head. Of course it couldn’t alter its face in any way including blinking and it swept along by slithering its lower tentacles, but when it stood still and you ignored the frozen features, it passed reasonably well. In fact, in a photograph it wouldn’t have even been noticeable that it was a non-human. Harry stepped back. “Will that do?”

“It’s our best chance,” the captain said.

“I hope I do well,” Thirzik said.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” Harry cried. “Your face is covered in cracks! Here.” He took out a delicate paintbrush and repaired the damage. “Now don’t speak.” He pushed a comm into the painted simulated cleavage. “We’ll provide the voices. Just go up to the door, knock and go in. Can you handle all four of them?”

“I believe I can wrap them simultaneously in my tentacles — oh, I apologize.”

“I’m sorry, that one was my fault.” Harry repaired the cracks again. “All right, now go.”

The operation was a great success. The crooks took Thirzik to be a real hotel maid and were captured swiftly when they allowed ‘her’ in. Later, Harry invited Thirzik to his room for a celebratory drink. Of course, the Gyterion had something of its own since alcohol would have been dangerous for its metabolism. Curiously, the room appeared to have photography equipment set up in it.

“Here, come and sit down.” Harry said.

Thirzik settled its lower tentacles into the seat. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

“We’re off duty. It’s Harry. Now, I’m curious about one thing. Can you arrange yourself to look like anything?”

“No, Harry. I can do most humans of my approximate volume, however. I have found that it is not a difficult thing.”

“That’s neat. Can you do this one?” He showed Thirzik a picture in a magazine.

“I believe so.”

“And these?” He paged through it. It was helpful to Thirzik that few of them were clothed in more than the barest human undergarments and many in nothing at all. It assented for the most likely ones.

“Great. Why don’t we try her first?” Harry turned to a page

“You wish me to mimic her form?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“No, Harry. If it gratifies you, I will attempt it.”

Thirzik did not understand Harry’s interest, but he was proud to show off his abilities to the lieutenant. Maybe this would lead to a promotion. Harry covered Thirzik’s entire body in thick makeup and painstakingly drew on features until it looked just like the human female in the magazine. Thirzik was unsure why Harry was taking pictures since he already had the ones Thirzik had used or why he had Thirzik alter his arrangement and force Harry to redraw sections each time —sometimes asking him to change its apparent figure and sometimes just its pose - but it assented each time because its superior officer appeared to be becoming more gratified each time. When they reached the final form and posture — a female Harry apparently had some interest in posed with her arms behind her head and her legs open — Harry climbed onto the bed he’d put Thirzik on so that its appendages would not be stressed. Harry had been very considerate in that way; Thirzik doubted it could have held the postures while upright.

“What are you doing, Harry?”

Harry looked up from where he was examining the opening Thirzik had placed between its legs. “Is this anatomically correct?”

“I believe so. I have studied your species’ medical literature.”

Harry removed his outer layer and Thirzik saw that his sexual organ was active. “Do you mind if I test that?”

“Of course not. I would be gratified if you could tell me any mistakes I have made.”

Harry carefully repaired the makeup and cautioned Thirzik to be still during this section of testing. Harry placed his sexual organ inside of the opening Thirzik had produced and pumped it up and down. He seemed to be exerting himself and Thirzik tried to help by stimulating him through moving his tentacles internally.

“Oh dear god!” Harry shouted. Thirzik was worried that he’d done something wrong. Harry deposited some biomatter inside of it and withdrew. “That was … most satisfactory.”

“I am gratified, Harry.” Thirzik decided to keep the biomatter in case it was important.

“One thing before I get you cleaned up and you go.”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Don’t tell the captain.”

“I won’t Harry.” Thirzik didn’t know what was happening, but it liked Harry. Harry took an interest.

Alien 2 — Opportunistic

“And so the humans have reprogrammed our defense screen to keep us out,” G’snik said to H’merk.
“How, your Excellency? It was made to accept commands only from one of us.”
“They put one of their own in some sort of disguise which fooled the sensors into believing that they were one of us.” The colonel rustled his vines in annoyance. “Our electronics are very stupid to mistake a human behind a plant for one of us. They’ve set it to only accept commands from humans now.”
“So what are we to do?”
“Our ship is en route for the planet and will make fall in four days. We have been studying their technology and cannot risk landing our ship near their base or the screens. We can, however, send a one-being pod down through the screens to the control center. It is fully automated and should have no humans nearby.”

“What then, your Excellency?”

Colonel G’snik turned on a monitor. “We’ve also studied their culture. Apparently some members are more venerated than others based on their sounds, mannerisms and appearance. It is believed that we can replicate these as a camouflage similar to the one used by the humans. Should our operative be caught, they will be mistaken for such a venerated person and given due respect and deference until they can be picked up by one of our own.”

“Am I to be this operative?” H’merk asked.

“You are. Report to Medic F’leri for the necessary equipment and training materials.”

It was good that H’merk’s race did not sleep because it took him five hours to be able to produce the necessary shoots and growths to fill the empty shell that was given to him. At the end, he compared himself to the holo provided. He appeared to be the individual in question, a female human who had appeared in several long broadcasts and who seemed to be an object of great veneration to the race. The shell had been made very thick so that the shifting of his vines and branches underneath the skin were not noticeable to human sight. At first he worried that it might be possible to feel the writhing limbs if a human squeezed him, but his mission would be short and it was unlikely.
H’merk had no way of knowing anything more than what was shown in the videos and holograms, but as he studied her movement and voice pattern, it seemed that every human she interacted with gave her great respect. Little was known of the humans, but they seemed to show the most deference by wishing to view another human without their protective clothing. It appeared to be an issue of trust and the venerated one very rarely allowed the supplicant human this boon.

Another fourteen hours was spent learning to walk and move correctly using only two compact limbs for locomotion and two limbs with smaller buds for manipulation. H’merk was a diligent study, but it was very hard to see through the holes provided. Humans had very limited vision indeed. They also had a lot of odd lumps and curves in their frames. Very strange creatures.

The outer covering given to H’merk was based on that which was worn by the venerated one when she had the greatest respect given. It was tight in some places and billowed out in others. H’merk noted that it covered very little of the human female’s skin and was almost transparently diaphanous in many places. Perhaps the showing of this much was considered a boon which was rewarded with greater respect and loyalty. Or maybe it was to demonstrate what the supplicants would get when the entire covering was removed. Whatever the reason for it, it wasn’t much harder to move about in and even the foot coverings which added height and changed the wearer’s posture slightly was not a major difficulty compared to the human disguise itself.

All this seemed unnecessary when H’merk was crammed into a capsule and dropped onto the control center. Movement was painfully slow in the constricting disguise and garments, but H’merk was a loyal crew member and minced his way as quickly as he could to the controls. He’d just lowered the defense screens when he heard another human’s voice. “What’s going on here?”

Remembering that the venerated ones had higher voices that wasted a lot of breath in unnecessary exhalations, H’merk said, “Lil’ ol’ me?” In the way that the vids had taught.

“Yes, you. What-“ The human male who had come to investigate stood transfixed. H’merk took that as a sign that his disguise had worked. He was gaining veneration.

“I seem to have gotten lost.” H’merk made the tittering noise that he thought was correct. “Ain’t I silly? Maybe a big, strong, handsome man could show me the way back?” He’d lowered the screens at least, so now all he had to do was get to the human’s base and signal. His ship would destroy the control center and pick him up.

“I’ll have to take you back to headquarters.”

“Lovely.” As trained, H’merk put some of the manipulation shoots on the human male’s stumpy arm appendage.

The human male appeared to venerate H’merk since he helped the disguised plant creature into a conveyance and did not restrain him at all. H’merk continued to act as instructed, resting manipulation shoots on the human’s locomotion appendage and looking at him occasionally with widened eyes. When they entered the HQ building, several other human males were at various stations and a couple made noises by pursing their lips that H’merk associated with veneration. “Look at that!” One said.
“Where’d you find her?”
“She was in the alien defense center.”
“How did she get there?”
“Who cares? It’s Marilyn Monroe!”
“Don’t be a burk, she’s been dead for centuries.”
“She’s a really good impersonator, though,” the original male said.
“Hi, boys!” H’merk said, thinking this a good time to attract veneration.
“You can say that again.”
“Hi, boys!”
“Do you think she’s been brain damaged?”
“I don’t know. Upstairs promised they’d send someone to do a show for the troops. Maybe she landed in the wrong place. We don’t know what effects that the alien hardware might have on human brains. Their screens could have pushed her transport off course and landed it in the middle of the control center.”
“Is that likely?”
“About as likely as them sending someone like her to entertain us.”
At that point there was a commotion and a furry creature who resembled a human female in its general shape strode in. “What the hell were you guys playing at?” She asked one group of humans.
They made an odd snorting noise. “Trouble?”
The furry thing reached behind its neck. It removed a head covering that had made it appear to be a different species. It seemed to be a human male face, though H’merk wasn’t sure. “You told me that the cats don’t wear clothes!”

“They don’t.” One human, a female, said.

“Only when they want to advertise for a mate!” The human male in the guise of one of the natives said. “This is highly unprofessional.” He continued when the others seemed to be making some sort of noise that signified amusement and several uttered the odd words ‘April Fools.’ “We’re here to study the local culture, not mess around. Next time, someone else can go out and mingle with them.” He pushed the head back on and stalked out.

“Why isn’t he taking it off to give to another researcher?” H’merk asked, curious.

“He’s … going to go and enjoy the aesthetic.” A human male said.

“Oh.” H’merk wondered if this had anything to do with the female furry form being naked. Perhaps he’d gone to venerate himself.

“So, what are we going to do with you?” He asked.

H’merk widened his eye holes as trained and pressed up against him. “I don’t know! Please don’t hurt me. I don’t remember anything.”

“Calm down, sweetie.” The male said and several of his comrades made soothing sounds. “Let’s get you a place to rest and then I’ll go find someone who might know where you’re supposed to go.”

“I guess she must have gotten amnesia,” someone said as the male took H’merk away.

“Yeah. Damned alien junk.”

“Did you see her butt?”

“Yeah, it looked like it was moving all on its own. She’s one hot piece.”

H’merk had been doing well with the humans’ odd form of locomotion. He noticed that his lower portions moved side to side more than the males’, but he’d seen in training that this was normal. He was not ready for the small hole in one tile, which the spiked foot covering stuck in. The human male caught him and he was completely off guard when he looked up at the male. The male seemed to be staring at the exposed skin H’merk was showing, a sign that H’merk would be able to take the male to a higher plateau of veneration. He pressed his lips to the males in the way he’d seen in the vids and after a moment the male did the same. H’merk knew he was supposed to open the mouth part of his female disguise, but he was afraid that though it looked correct, it had not been flavored right. Humans supposedly had very sensitive taste organs and might detect the plant taste to the soft tissue he’d grown to mimic a human tongue.

“I’m sorry…” H’merk said in that breathy way he’d been shown. “I don’t know what came over me.”

H’merk was afraid that the male might realize his status as a non-human when he had to shift his internal foliage under the human’s hand to rebalance himself as the male put him back on his covered feet. The human didn’t seem to notice and as anticipated, the lip pressing and ritual words made human male seem to respect and venerate him even more. The human took him to an unoccupied room with a bed, telling him he had been through a lot and needed to rest. H’merk lay down and the human male momentarily stared between his locomotion stumps. That was when H’merk realized he’d forgotten the odd covering that went there. Apparently this led to more veneration because the human was breathing harder when he left.

H’merk swiftly extracted a communications device from one of the handy sacs humans had and called his commander. “Reporting in. The screens are down but I was unable to reprogram it to accept only our signatures. You must be fast or the humans will notice and repair.”

“We hear you. Unfortunately, the planet you are on is of no value to us and we’ve been ordered elsewhere. We’ll be back to pick you up in a solar month. Yikraker Follies!”

So he’d been bamboozled just like that poor human in the guise of the furred natives. Made to look like an object of veneration and left to fend for himself. At least the humans had let their comrade return to base soon after learning of the trick! H’merk scrambled out of the bed — he’d never learned how to go from prone to locomotive in the human skin — and forced some of the water in his capillaries to the holes he saw out of. When the human male who had captured — now he realized, rescued — him from the control center, H’merk pressed himself against the male as he’d seen in the vids and looked up with the water filled vision appendages. “I remember something! Horrible plant monsters torturing me and dumping me in that place.”

“That sounds like the aliens who built it. Do you know anything else?”

“They said they’d be back for me. In a solar month they said.”

“Good. We’ll have time to get ready.” The male grasped H’merk’s manipulation shoots and pulled. H’merk saw they were going to another set of quarters. Maybe he’d get venerated some more.

On the way, they passed one of the researchers who’d played the trick on his fellow. Now he was in the cat guise, though covered in a colorful garment that covered very little. “But you were clothed.” The original male who had been tricked said.

“In the ritual garb of a streetwalker!”

“Hey, turnabout’s fair play.”

“All right. We’re all going to sit down and read up on what we know so there’s no more shenanigans.” The female said. “Then you two are both going to get into that guard coyote suit we made and go with the next person who does a scouting run. If anyone gets fresh, bite them.”

“What if someone’s pet gets fresh with us?”

“I guess you’ll just have to share the risk by trading who takes the rear end.”

H’merk wondered how that female got so much respect when she didn’t look like the sort who the humans chose for that position. He saw the way the males averted being around her and decided he preferred the veneration he was getting. As the door closed and the male wrapped his appendages around H’merk, the plant creature wondered if this was how humans venerated each other in private. None of the vids he’d seen had showed that.

All Wet

She stood in front of her mirror, looking at the one part of her that wasn’t her yet. From the neck down, she was already a sea monster. She was doing her best to think of herself that was as she placed green scaly webbed hands on the mask hanging down her back, hooking the neck with short curved ivory claws. The face that was about to be covered was belonged to a person that wasn’t her. She pulled the mask over that face, subsuming everything in the persona of the sexy scaly girl she was to become. That’s what her acting coach had told her – the sweaty not her body underneath’s experiences were hers now, she told herself – that she had to inhabit a role. Taking that advice to heart, she’d decided to inhabit an entirely new body. She turned away, putting her former self into the background with the deliberate decision to stop looking at it.

The squishy mask slid over skin, the features stretching over and changing what was underneath into something, someone, completely different. Hair which had been bound tightly under a cap was covered by a crest which expanded upward and outward as the mask stretched, the springy rubbery material finally freed from the packed accordion shape it had taken when the mask was off. Black lenses bulged out just a little from the human beneath’s eye sockets, opaque from the outside so that anyone looking would see only unblinking amphibian eyes. She smoothed the edges against the gray-green scales of her neck and shoulders. Just before she turned to look, she remembered to scoop up the pointy dentures that would turn her unimpressive human teeth into the maw of a carnivorous beast. Once she’d bitten down on it and ran her tongue once over the jagged rows of sharpened fangs, she turned to see her new self.

She almost wanted to check behind her when she saw her reflection. A reptilian fiend from the inky depths looked back. A female sea monster obviously. A sexy female sea monster. The body was sculpted and padded, subtly in some places and more dramatically others, so that nothing about her shape was like what was beneath the scales and rubber. She spent over a minute twisted around just admiring her new butt. It was so cute with just enough shadow beneath to show that there was shape, and that tail! She hadn’t been sure about it when she bought the suit, but it was just what she needed to draw even more attention to what she was beginning to think of as her best feature.

The tail jutted out from just above that splendid heart shaped behind, starting out stiff at the base but then growing more flexible as it went on, bending in a graceful arc under its own weight until the end was ten centimeters away from the backs of her calves where it terminated in a split fin. It had a raised crest like that on top of her head, which ran up to the base and then became much shorter, tracing the line of her back – and incidentally covering a zipper line – until it started to grow again at the back of her head and stuck out so boldly at her crown, finally ending just above where a human might have eyebrows. Instead of hairy caterpillar things, she had slightly darker scales to give the impression.

Speaking of her face, it was much more attractive than she’d thought it would be. In addition to the eyebrow scales, she had lighter scales around her eyes, outlined again in dark lines to give the subtlest hint of eyeliner and mascara. Those black pits seemed to drink in everything and give away nothing. She practiced a grin and pinker scales around her mouth – slightly padded to giver her the semblance of made up lips – drew back to reveal a sharp-toothed grin that seemed to suit her. Strange as it seemed, she thought her sharky smile was adorable! It was probably because the maker had sculpted the mask to have a rounder face than she’d anticipated when she’d imagined a sort of fish-reptile hybrid, and the dark lenses made her eyes look bigger and more liquid, overall leaving the impression that while she might devour a sailor, she was just as likely to play with them … first.

Webbed fingers probed, and webbed toes dug happily into the carpet as she ran her smooth rubbery palms down her sides and back up, cupping breasts that she might have thought small except that they stuck out all the more on a creature that shouldn’t have any at all. She’d thought about going for larger, and for a more exaggerated figure in hip and butt, but she’d wanted to inhabit a character, not a caricature. She had to admit that the mask’s features along with the overall shape was cuter than she’d intended when she commissioned the suit, but it was just what she wanted for the pool party. That was why she’d gotten the suit in the first place, she reminded herself.

When the invite had come, her former self had been inclined to ignore it. The person she’d been was shy, not very good with socialization, and thought people would judge them if they showed up in a bathing suit. It had specified a costume pool party, which was even more confusing. All the girls, would no doubt make some attempt at being mermaids even if it was just to wear shimmery skirts they’d take off before going swimming. What then were guys supposed to wear? Something else that gave them tails? A turtle shell like on Dragon Ball? It all seemed strange. Then the awkward introvert the sea monster girl had once been thought about their time in amateur dramatics. Becoming someone else had been a freeing experience, and maybe that was the answer. Don’t go to the party to be the wallflower but something, someone, different. It wasn’t, the sea monster girl reflected as she checked to make sure that the sides of her head were smooth and the human underneath wasn’t bulging through anywhere, the kind of advice that human would have normally taken. Then again, she thought, her former self had never gotten anywhere romantically that way. If nothing else this costume was different, and it seemed time, she thought, to try something new. Something new might have more fun.

She glanced at her packet of waterproof makeup. She hadn’t been sure how the mask would look and bought the basics to make a few temporary changes in case she wasn’t satisfied. Now that she was packed into the tight and squishy confines of the monster suit and had seen the stunning change it had made, she wasn’t inclined to mess with perfection. Lipstick, eyeshadow, all those things might make her look more beautiful, but only based on silly human concepts of beauty. She was mean, green, and proud. Baring her teeth and raising her hands into a fierce pose, shoulders up and elbows out, she growled at the mirror. “I am the fury of the deep, and your doom, puny sailors!” She put her hand to her mouth with a tiny, “ooh,” and then laughed at the image that had changed so quickly from inspiring terror to an almost Victorian demureness. “I-aaaaaahhhh. Wow.” She touched her throat, which buzzed slightly with every sound, a reminder to her and her alone that something was happening every time she talked. “I – oh man, this is going to take getting used to. AAAAAhhhhh. My voice sounds so weird. I mean it fits. Rawr,” she growled at the mirror. “I didn’t think they’d be able to make it change so much.”

With that last heartening reminder that no one was going to guess who she’d been before she became who she was now, she picked up her keys and phone and walked out. Blessing that her squishy latex fingerpads worked with phones, she arranged for a pickup, locked her door and – checking left and right to make sure no one was watching – unzipped a waterproof pouch on the underside of her tail and tucked them away. Unencumbered by the accoutrements of her human alter ego, she skipped down her apartment building stairs and out into the hot sun.

Bert had gotten into ridesharing because he needed the extra cash, but he’d honestly enjoyed it. He’d driven his share of drunks, clams, and – in his opinion the worst – self-important pillars of the community of course, but for every loudmouth or confused inebriate he’d had plenty of interesting, fun people who had taught him that the world has a lot more to it than meets the eye. Taking all that in stride, he still wasn’t sure if maybe he ought to give an even better rating to his last rider, a little old granny who’d given him a brownie. He’d assumed it was just something she’d baked, but as he pulled up in front of a five-story tower of luxury flats, he was starting to wonder if that granny hadn’t been putting something extra special in the mix.

“Uh, I’m here for –“ he began.

“That’s me!” The blank eyed creature with greenish gray scales and a tail which swung and bounced as she walked forward said, interrupting him before he could confirm his fare by name. “Going to,” she named the address of the pool party.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Bert said as she opened the passenger door, looked appraisingly at the seat and then swapped to the back, draping her tail on the seat next to her. “You sure don’t look like your picture,” he said as he pulled into the street.

The girl – she sure looked like a girl monster – took a long moment to reply. “I get that a lot.”

Inwardly, the sea monster girl – she decided she’d have to figure out a name for her new self before she got to the party – was annoyed at how long it had taken her to find a good response. A new name might help her submerge – heh, maritime monster humor – herself in her new persona. If it took her ten seconds to decide what a girl from the depths – who just happened to be attractive, purely by chance, to humans – would say then she may as well go back to being the awkward self she’d abandoned when her new face had slipped over the old. Oh good, the driver was saying something. Icthya – she admitted it wasn’t the best name, but it was fishy and had ‘ick’ and made her giggle when she thought of it – would have another opportunity to practice being reptilian and sassy. Was sassy right? She wanted to be the feared predator that dragged sailors to their doom, but she also wanted to be liked. Sassy would have to do.

“So, are you … a vaporeon?” Bert guessed, taking in the ridged crest with its creamy membranes stretched in between crescent shaped bony (though actually made of pliable rubber) protrusions, and finned tail. The eyes too were a bit like the pokemon, though the color was off and he thought a vaporeon would have paws rather than the long, wicked looking webbed hands.

“I’m more of a deep-sea kind of girl,” Icthya replied, smiling a little and then wider at the look on her driver’s face when he saw the jagged predator’s grin. “Vaporeons are cute, I guess, but they usually doggy paddle around near the surface and frolic in fresh water.” The in-character response helped build her confidence. “I usually lurk far below, only coming to the surface to drag those who boldly and foolishly sail above me into the inky abyss.” She ended with a growl and flexed her clawed, webbed hands as if remembering a really good throttling she’d done. “I’ll walk on land like those little water foxes, but only when I’m really hungry.”

“Or when you need to select the best and boldest to take to your undersea palace and ravish so you can make another generation of horrible monsters?” Bert asked, trying to get into the spirit of having in his back seat what he guessed was some kind of actress on her way to a monster movie, the photo and name on the ridesharing app notwithstanding.

“I have to be in the mood for that,” Icthya mused. “I’m not sure if I am or not. Of course, I have to find a man who’s worthy of fertilizing my eggs.”

“If you know what I mean.” Bert said almost reflexively, taking the previous statement as an innuendo.

Icthya sat back and pulled her tail around, idly waving the flipper back and forth. Of course, she’d known that it was probably going to be that kind of party. The host was a well-known eligible bachelor, a self-confessed jaded veteran of the dating scene. The invitation was a declaration of boredom. ‘Bunga-bunga poolside shenanigans are old hat’ it proclaimed, ‘let’s at least be a little creative.’ Well, Icthya would show him creative. And if any of those spoiled little mermaids tried to horn in on her fun, she’d eat them! She broke the spell by giving herself a mental pat on the back for being so in character right then. With the spell broken, she wondered if anyone was going to find her attractive. Looking at the pale reflection of her lizard-fish self, she thought with a pang of fear about the kind of person who would be. Did she want that kind of attention? Her former, human, self had never had any attention at all. She consciously forced herself to be more herself again. Icthya would want the most desirable human, man or woman, and that meant she wanted Torvan, the host, the rich boy, the challenge.

“Here we are … miss monster.” Bert said. Best to address her the way she obviously wanted to be.

“Excellent.” Icthya winced internally. That was Cybermen, not sea monster! She leaned forward and stuck her head between the seats. “That was a most enjoyable ride. I will forbear from eating you today.”

“Thanks?” Bert was having trouble keeping up with the act.

Icthya got out. Torvan’s mansion – she thought of any house with more than three bedrooms and a pool as a mansion – was screened with hedges and a low wall, and none of the other partygoers were on the sidewalk outside, so she hastily fished – heh, more sea girl humor – in her tail pouch for her phone. Her squishy, slick webbed hands weren’t the best for entering reviews online, but she felt a duty to give a rave review of her driver who had obviously been trying so hard to play along, and had given her so many good opportunities to psyche herself up for the main event. Tucking away the phone and giving her tail a few good swings and squeezes to make sure it was attached and completely sealed, Icthya started up the path that led around the house to the poolside walk.

After standing out in the sun waiting for the car, and sitting without much ventilation in the back of a sedan without rear climate control, the latex, rubber, and silicone monster was starting to notice her old self sweating and hot inside. “Not much further,” she said to herself. Not much further until she’d be in – back in, she reminded herself sternly – the nice cool water where she belonged. How smart of her old persona to buy a costume which was only comfortable in the water! With more thoughts like that, reminding herself again and again she was Icthya and no one else, and that she was tough, sassy, confident, and strong, she rounded the corner and was assailed by the gazes of more than thirty people who all looked better in bathing suits than her old self believed her old human form did.

Strangely enough, that thought of how a bathing suit looked reminded Icthya that while she was – to Icthya at least – naked and to some extent actually felt that way. The human self might feel a bit uncomfortable squeezed into a padded suit which was tight and even compressing - not just where the costume was stretched right over the skin but also where the pads sat - but strangely enough it was fitted so well that the entire costume moved as if she were a nude monster. That gave her the confidence to think of course it does, because I am a nude monster. All these silly rules about clothing and how they fit are for squishy, soft humans. Which she obviously was not. It also helped that she caught at least one of the men looking, and then turning away quickly to hide the bulge in his trunks she’d caught before he could turn. It was so nice, Icthya thought, not to have external genitalia. She would never be so embarrassed as to sport a boner, or wet a thong, or any of those other things that made it so obvious when someone adored her. She had the advantage over all of them and it felt so good!

Then again, she mused, a claw rasping along her scaled flank as she remembered how good her butt looked as an amphibian girl, she’d look pretty good in a bikini now. She grinned at the image of her new, scaly and slick body in a spandex bikini. With her confidence even further boosted by how uncomfortable the other partygoers looked – most of them, and she noted those who looked even more interested in her – she dove headfirst into the pool, a flick of her webbed limbs making it so that her two-finned tail flipped and waved as it was the last thing to submerge. Oh, that was the best. Her skin was suddenly cool, and she never wanted to come back up!

She thrashed and panicked as she felt her mask suddenly seem to get stiff over her mouth and nose, and then remembered it was supposed to do that. She hadn’t entirely believed it when the maker said that the material would get sticky when completely submerged and seal up unless she forced them open, and that her tail had a little canister of air mix which gave it that extra weighted bounce, and when the material sealed, she’d find a tube to bite down on. It ran down her back crest and into the canister, giving her about ten minutes of aggregated underwater breathing time, used carefully and with reminders not to rely on it for more than four or five deep breaths or else she’d have to force the lips open to let out the bubbles or – wisely – surface.

Icthya was nervous relying on a breathing apparatus she knew nothing about, so she resolved to only take one long breath per trip down. That would still confuse everyone up top who would see her swimming around, continuing to swim as if she didn’t need to surface at all. Taking that first long breath, she struck down and then skimmed the bottom, using her webbed hands and feet to great effect to move gracefully along the pool’s length and then burst from the opposite end right in front of two mermaids sitting on a shelf of shallow water. They looked at her with disapproval, arms crossed beneath shell bras and long fish tails flapping languidly, one’s tail pink and the other blue. “Pardon me, ladies,” Icthya said, waving and then returning to the bottom of the pool where she belonged.

Her smooth skin and specially adapted limbs made it so easy to swim that she jetted the length of the pool without even having to take a breath. Her tail stabilized her, keeping her arrow-straight back and forth and then back again before her second breath ran out. It would have been nice, she thought, to be able to use it as a rudder by flexing her bum, but that was beyond the craft of the person who made it. She looked up during her third dive, watching the slowly kicking feet and the shadows of lilos above her. There were so few mer-people who had taken things as far as wearing ‘proper’ fins, and none of them were swimming at that moment. A few were on the shelf or an island that floated on a rubber tether. She was sorely tempted to reach up and grab an ankle or nip at a toe, but instead surfaced as fast as she could, almost succeeding in leaping out of the water and back in.

Tired for the moment, she paddled back to the shelf and clambered up, ignoring the nervous giggles of the mermaids who were still chatting and sunning themselves in a passable ‘come hither siren’ impression. There was no way Ichthya was leaving the pool if she could help it, but she could stand to sit in warmer waters and look at the other people who had come rather than showing off and enjoying her newfound agility. The other partygoers were interesting to watch and often amusing.

Amusing for sure were her fellow seagoing ladies up on the shelf. While she stretched out, relaxed and insolently uncaring of who was looking, they were sitting up on rocks, dry to their midriffs except where Icthya had splashed them coming and going. The sea monster girl stared unabashed and very entertained at where their tails met their midriffs, noting that the mermaids had intentionally pulled the top parts down enough to bare just the hint of flesh between the belly and crotch. As she watched, one adjusted her full blonde wig and she guessed that the other mermaid’s shining black was similarly fake. They were so careful of messing up their real hair, she thought, that perhaps they never showed it off at all. She wondered where their boyfriends were and if they had none why no one was fawning over them as they obviously were hoping someone would. Perhaps they like Icthya were aiming high and waiting for Prince Richie Rich himself to notice them.

She had to admit to herself that ‘mansion’ was probably the right word. She was on the near side of the pool to the house, a steel and glass modern monstrosity that showed that the race of man could be just as terrifying in their aesthetic choices as the most barnacle encrusted sea beast. Deck chairs were laid out all around the pool, which was Olympic length and double width, providing a staggering amount of space for the lagoons and floating island in the middle, complete with rubber palm tree. There were five or six mer-people of both sexes and a variety of bright tropical colored tails on the island, lying in pairs, groups, or alone interspersed with the much more common bikini, trunks, one-piece, or speedo. As she watched, a robot tray with a propeller and rudder came down a canal from the full bar and bobbed around delivering orders or offering whatever their host thought was a good compliment to the event. Icthya couldn’t help but laugh as a mer-man and maid slipped into the water in a passionate embrace and then surfaced spluttering and thrashing, evidently having not enough practice with bound legs.

Most of the guests, however, were in the chairs or standing, drinking and talking, or else trying to have a cheeky snog without too many people making fun of them for starting in on each other so early in the day. They too were mostly in regular swimsuits, though on land there was the expected plethora of ladies in long, diaphanous skirts that emulated mermaid tails. A few people had gone as far as scuba gear and one or two men had skintight rubber wetsuits colored like orcas and sharks. No one came close to Icthya’s choice for dedication or creativity, she thought with satisfaction. She realized that she hadn’t talked to anyone yet, but didn’t mind nearly as much as her former self would have. Let them come to her, she decided. She was the queen of Davy Jones’s something or other.

The mermaids next to her started talking louder and shifting in place in anticipation of something. Icthya had rolled over to let her front get a little more cooling and craned her neck to see what the fuss was about. “Hello,” a smooth male voice said from the edge of the shelf said, “I’ve been looking for you.” A wave of water washed over Icthya’s back as someone climbed up from the deeper part of the pool. She turned over and looked past scaly rubbery breasts that suddenly seemed larger now that they were occluding her vision. It was him. Torvan, her host! The mermaids started into action, flicking their tails and simpering at him, but he was staring right at her. Icthya’s claws scraped the tiles - she was sure he could hear it – as she thrashed like a landed fish trying to either turn back over to arch her back and show herself to best advantage looking at him, or just sit up and hold a conversation like a mostly normal person. “Me?” She squeaked, feeling completely betrayed by her sudden shyness. This wasn’t Icthya, she said to herself scornfully. This was the behavior of the person she’d been before!

“Of course. You were swimming so quickly that I lost sight of you. You were like a shadow flitting back and forth down there; it was gorgeous. By the time I worked out where you’d gone, I was on the other side of the pool, and I don’t swim nearly as well as you do.” It was true, Icthya noticed, that he sounded a little out of breath.

The mermaids were looking at Icthya with open hostility, arms pushing their boobs so high up that they were probably going to lose their tops when they finally relaxed. Their disapproval somehow buoyed – heh, sea girl humor – Icthya’s spirits. “I’m glad you have the taste to appreciate my charms.” She said haughtily.

Torvan laughed. “Your originality at least! I knew it was a tall order, but I expect my guests to make an effort, you know? I write ‘costume pool party’ and I think to myself, ‘Torvan, you maniac. What kind of crazy thing will you unleash?’ and what do I get. Pah!” He gestured around. “Mermaids and scuba divers from the people who try a little, and poorly thought out Baywatch references from the rest. If I wanted swimsuits, I’d have said that.”

Icthya smiled a sharp, self-satisfied grin. She and Torvan were by far the most seriously well-dressed pair at the pool. She in her terrifyingly cute monster suit and him having bedecked the inner portions of arms and legs with latex suckers which had been blended with his skin using reddish hues reminiscent of a starfish. The rest of his skin was mottled and rough in patches, and he’d bound his hair in a seashell covered conical cap also covered in suckers and starfish skin. His chest was slathered with something cream colored and squishy which had been blended with the same color of thong swimsuit.

“See, even your teeth are right!” Torvan said. “Magnificent. Come, you must tell me your name so that I know who to send flowers and heap with praise.”

“I am Icthya, scourge of the depths and terror to sailors of the seas and oceans.” She replied. “Like you, I’ve grown bored of my life and have come seeking something different.” She stretched out in the warm water, lying on her front and arching her back like she’d wanted to at first, tail swinging behind her, her chest and rear stuck out so there was no mistaking how proud she was of the her – the suit’s – curves. “I’ve at least found something very comfortable.”

“No, your real name.” Torvan said, losing some of his ebullient manner. “Your costume is so outstanding. I have to know who took my invitation so much to heart.”

“Costume? These human girls are wearing costumes. I’m – “ Icthya saw the disappointment on Torvan’s face. “Listen, I’ll drop the big show if you do, Torv. I won’t tell you who I am when I’m not the cutest little lizard-sharky femme fatale you ever saw, but I’ll tell you that before I got all scaly and adorable, I was someone who knew you well enough not to be taken in by that whole ‘Latin-Hollywood’ patter.”

“All right, Icky – hey, you’re the one who picked a monster girl name with ‘ick’ at the front,” he said as she pretended to growl menacingly and showed him her teeth. “We can talk like normal people in rubbery nautical costumes.”

“Wonderful.” Icthya sat up and dangled her feet off the shelf, leaning back on her hands. “I hoped this might impress you. I was probably as stumped as everyone else when they saw the invitation. For the first few hours, at any rate.”

“That’s the point. You kept thinking about it,” Torvan replied. “Seriously, thank you. I kept my hopes low for this, and you really proved that there are some people willing to go for it. I dunno, all these kids are so … unimaginative. So lacking in ambition.”

“Most of them are older than you are!” Icthya protested.

“Yeah, but they all inherited or got where they are by being beautiful and getting picked up by some other rich person who had more libido than sense. So they’re kids as far as I’m concerned. Children in paradise their entire lives.”

“While you worked your way to the top. Now you’ve stopped, that’s what’s bothering you?” Icthya challenged.

“Hey, don’t quote Jungle Book at me!” Torvan said. “King of the Swingers is a bit too close to the mark. Turn your killer instinct to the fish and mariners, please!”

Icthya lay back, her black lenses keeping out the worst of the sun’s glare. “Ah what some of us would give to have a slice of your misery, Torv. Popular, suave, cover of GQ.”

“Right now, if the photographers came in trying to get my picture, I’d insist that they all feature you instead.” Torvan replied. “You’re perfect! Lying there, you look like you belong in the water. I feel like I’m just pretending.”

Icthya smiled, without her teeth for once, the eyes behind the lenses closed, enjoying the sun and waves. “Then we understand each other very well, Torv. I’ll let you in on another secret,” she sat up abruptly and put her scaly lips to his ear. “That’s how I feel almost all the time. This is the most outgoing I’ve ever been, and it’s only because I’m convincing myself that I do belong right here right now.”

“All right, now I think you’re just trying to seduce me.” Torvan said, pushing her shoulder gently. “Hey, you’re less scratchy than I thought you’d be.”

“Now all you’re trying to do is seduce me. Come on, then. I’m getting hot and not just in a good way.” She took his hand and pulled him down with her as she pitched forward and half-fell half-dove into the depths again. He surfaced quickly, not having had a chance to take a breath. Icthya remained a few centimeters below, hand upraised to keep hold of his. She kicked and turned herself upward so she seemed to lie on her back a little below the surface, black eyes looking curiously at the strange air-breather who she’d found so strangely attractive that she’d come all the way up here to touch him. Then she was gone, her slick hand sliding out of his and the shapely sea monster girl returning to the dark domain she was born to dominate. He watched her go, her tail making her behind seem much more alluring and worth staring at as she kicked down and then arced back upwards, exploding out of the water behind him as he turned to track her.

“Much better!” she said. “I hope you don’t mind us taking this somewhere less … baking.”

“I could watch you swim all day.” Torvan said.

Icthya rubbed his cheek with hers and was as surprised as him when they both went for the kiss at the same time. “Tell me more about how sexy I am.” She said. “I need the validation.”

“I never said you were sexy. I said pretty. I think beautiful. Original, creative, cute, a little scary. I’ve also never kissed a woman with such sharp teeth before.”

“Grr,” she growled baring them, “these teeth will be doing more than pricking your tongue if you’re not careful.”

“Do you want me to find you sexy?” Torvan asked. “I thought I was supposed to respect and admire the sea, not –“ this time he was ready to take a deep breath as he was borne down, again having to surface long before she did, taking advantage of it to admire her smooth curves and fluid motion as she circled him swiftly and then came up right in front of him, their arms circling each other as if by arrangement. “How do you do that?” He asked between kisses, his hand moving down to hold her by the behind as she did the same. Neither was going to let the other be more bold or familiar!

“That’s just one of my many feminine and monstrous maritime secrets.” She teased, nipping his nose. He responded by gripping her butt in both hands and hoisting her over his shoulder. She was surprised at how strong he was, and let herself be borne to the poolside where she squirmed and escaped his grip. Squealing slightly as he tried to grab for her tail, she twisted and dove, climbing down the wall with her hands and feet, and then flipping back to reach upwards so she could run her claw down an exposed section of his thigh and leg. She felt him shiver and saw him looking down at her. She probed the squishy rubber speedo with her claws, trying to find a way in and always a little too fast for him as he tried to touch the top of her head or her crest.

Goaded, he dove in after her and she risked her second breath from her tail hose before forcing the mask’s lips open as they embraced, sharing the precious air with him as they kissed passionately under the water. Surfacing with gasps, they hung on to the lip of the pool, each scratching at the other’s itch but unable to reach through the elaborate, sealed costumes. “Why don’t we take this to a more private lagoon?” He said. He pulled himself out of the pool, giving her the opportunity to admire him for a change, focusing especially on the muscles that were still easily visible under the aquatic makeup. She allowed him to pull her out of the pool and even to carry her in his arms, her tail slapping him across the belly and thighs. Carried by his arms and the stares of all the little boys and girls who had hoped to be the one to ‘get private’ with Torvan, the human beneath Icthya closed their eyes, though of course the monster girl remained locked in a loving gaze with the man who had pulled her from the waves.

She opened her eyes are Torvan placed her carefully into a round hot tub and lay back as the jets played over her body. “I was already pretty hot,” she murmured as he joined her. “You’re going to boil me.”

“Maybe I want to get you properly heated up for the next part.” Torvan said. “When we forsake this wetness for a more … intimate one in my bedroom?”

Icthya smiled and moved over to sit in Torvan’s lap, his arms encircling her waist. She was keenly aware of the smooth, unbroken curve of the suit’s behind, and the same lack of an opening between her legs. She was also very aware of what was beneath that molded codpiece, and how much it wanted to be laid bare to the open air again for Torvan to do what he liked with it. “Sorry, Torv.” She said, rubbing her crest on his chin. “Not this time.”

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “I thought we –“

“I really want to, but this monster girl doesn’t put out on a first date.” She turned around and planted a long kiss on his lips, her scaled set and sharp teeth further arousing the man who wanted to be her mate. “I’d have to stop being me, and that would be just too much of a shame.”

“Fine.” Torvan said, squeezing her sides. “But you’re coming back! Pool party next week, just the two of us.” He whispered. “This time,” he murmured into where he thought her ear would be if she didn’t have a smooth skull, “mermaid and merman.”

Icthya couldn’t believe she’d agreed. She also was impressed at how well she’d handled Torvan. The guests had gone to pursue their own amorous adventures when they left the hot tub room, and after a dip to get herself feeling comfortably sleek and cool again, she left Torvan with a promise that he’d have his mermaid the following week. He’d arranged for her ride home, and had even bowed and demurred from one last bit of fun in the back of the car – which was a relief because it meant that he wouldn’t guess who she was in her non-reptilian life. Now, she thought, posing in front of her mirror and saying goodbye to the luscious, adorable, fiercely sexual thing she’d become, her boring old human self would have to figure out how to deliver a mermaid in a week. A mermaid that would keep Torvan’s interest and also protect that weak, fleshy, insecure ape descendant from feeling too vulnerable. But first, she thought, Icthya and the human deserved a reward. Lying back with the remote, she thought of how sweet it would be when she finally netted – one last sea girl joke – Torvan, and hit the switch, letting the rising buzz of the toy between her legs stimulate her mind as well as her body.

Miraculously, the theater’s special effects and costuming wonk had something ready-made that was perfect for the need. It had come in two parts, and Osine- she’d chosen the name the moment her pure human self saw it – had opted to put the top half on first since it would let her feel more herself. It also meant she’d be able to get ready without having to shuffle all over the place in the restrictive bottom half. She’d rolled and squeezed it so that she could get into the mask first so she could properly feel herself as she went on, deciding that her transformation into Icthya had been in some way drawn out too long by having the mask go on last. The mermaid mask was stiffer, more sculpted, and strangely faker feeling than the sea monster’s mask despite being mostly human in appearance.

As she shook out the aquamarine hair that fell in waves down her back, she took the chance of not having the gloves on to probe her new face with sensitive fingers. It had been sculpted with makeup on, mixing bright Caribbean Holiday blue-green lips with dark blue cheekbone highlights and lighter blue eyeshadow. Her face was sharper than she was used to, the long cheekbones and almond shaped eyes colluding with ears that were flattened to her skull and augmented with gill-like dark blue tattoos underneath. She primped her hair to better frame that face, the only mobile part being her eyelids and eyes themselves. Contacts which matched her lip color made sure that there would be no long gazes into her eyes to help Torvan guess who she was when not a mermaid.

Satisfied with how her face had been changed, she stretched the top part out so she could get her left arm into the costume, it’s material too smooth and uniform in color to be mistaken for real skin except at a distance. The only accent were the shiny fingernails which matched her hair. She smoothed the skin out carefully, knowing that the other arm would be harder to do. As she’d expected, her right arm took longer because her left hand couldn’t grip as well in the slick, latex-rubbery glove. Though a little too small for the human inside, it stretched, which was a godsend as it meant that by rolling her shoulders and waving her arms above her head, she could get the wrinkles out. Carefully gripping the slick material, the rest of her upper body went swiftly at first. The breasts – so much larger than Icthya’s and a real drag in the unforgiving gravity of dry land – fell into place under their own weight, and the costume stretched easily at first, then began to compress to give her a trim, narrow midriff. Her boobs hid a few surprises, as well as having a pair of dark shells molded on in a simulation of the classical bikini top so that she need never worry about straps and knots.

Getting sick of tugging and losing her grip, she found some textured clothespins and used those to help her pinch the very bottom edge of the suit top and pull it as far down as it would go, covering her now from crown to hip. Wanting to have herself be complete with no hints of anything non-mermaid in her image, she forbore from examining her exaggerated doll-like top half and dove straight into the tail. A masterpiece of silicone and 4-way swimsuit fabric, it departed from the blue-green motif, contrasting the doll top’s model-like color coordination and elegance with a shockingly bright pink. Sculpted with hundreds of scales that scintillated in the light like sequins, it was made to draw attention from afar so that all eyes would be on the mermaid to appreciate the rest of her as she approached.

It was also, Osine thought as she huffed and strained to pull it up over her butt, really tight. She hoped that she’d be able to get it over her hips because she wasn’t sure it fit! Her strains were not helped by the lack of grip from her slick doll’s hands, but with a few heaves and the use of the clothespins again, she finally wiggled and squeezed her way into the tail, her feet finding their way into the pouch just above the split fin. She thrashed around some more trying to work the top of his up over her behind, reflecting on how this was giving her the authentic ‘fish out of water’ experience.

All that was left then was to tuck the bottom of the doll part into the tail and use some pink spray to blend her doll top’s flesh into the fishy bottom. A bottom which – to balance her voluptuous top – was padded around the hips and where her bottom would be if she were a human in a costume rather than a beautiful mermaid doll. She pushed her fin back and carefully got up, taking her time to find her balance. With a few shuffles, she was in front of her mirror and Osine got to see the fruits of her labors.

Her hands flew to her hips at the first sight of herself, the brightly colored mermaid swaying back and forth to admire how her tail forced her body into a set of curves no matter how she stood. Her skin, unmarked and shiny smooth from the neck down, was just as she’d hoped it would be. An obvious, doll-like fake compounded by the lack of a navel or any kind of shadow or change in color apart from the painted nails. Osine brushed those smooth hands down the textured, rougher tail, admiring how the light struck it. She leaned forward to get a look at her face, which had a permanent smile stuck to it.

The only thing that showed any sign of life in the features painted in the colors of coral and sea were her eyes, which she’d thought about covering with something like Icthya’s lenses but had forebore, wanting to leave something beyond body language to communicate with Torvan. She practiced with her eyes, using them to modify the static smile. Wide open and delighted, eyelashes lowered and shyly happy. Eyes half-lidded, the smile now inviting, asking for more. Satisfied that she’d be able to communicate a few emotions as long as she was careful, Osine took out her phone – thank goodness for materials that let her use it with gloved fingers – and was delighted that her previous driver was in the area. As before, she was careful to make sure no one was around as she locked up, and with another darting glance up and down the hall, she squeezed gently where a nipple would be on her left breast and twisted, feeling it give way. The shell flipped down on a hidden hinge with a slurp that told her that it would seal back up again as waterproof as before. She tucked her keys and phone into the capacious cavity inside her ridiculously massive boob, thinking that there were unexpected benefits to having doll-like proportions.

When Bert accepted the fare, he’d been happy to see the name and picture pop up again. He’d thought of a few more good lines to use, and with some preparation this time he thought he’d be able to really engage with the fishy young lady. The other option was that the person would be out of costume and maybe he’d be able to talk to them about where he ought to look for photos or attend the show. Bright pink was his first impression from two blocks away, and then as he got closer he couldn’t help staring at the mermaid’s most prominent features. His fixation was made worse as she caught sight of his car and wiggled her way a little closer to the curb, the bouncing chest only barely covered by a pair of far-too-small shells. So much for playing cabbie to the queen of the black lagoon, he thought with some relief at not having to keep up with the overeager actress. Maybe as a mermaid she’d be a little easier to talk to, and even willing to divulge where he’d be able to see her. He wouldn’t mind going to the theater if they featured big-breasted mermaids with – he thought as he finally was able to take his eyes off them – beautiful faces as well.

He got out and helped her into the back, disappointed when she only smiled and gestured her thanks as she slid her tail in and started fiddling with the seatbelt. “I’m kind of relieved, you know?” He said as he pulled out. “Last time I picked up a fare here, I ended up with this toothy, hungry sea monster in my back seat. I can tell you, I was a little concerned about making it to her destination with all my fingers!” He felt pretty good about that, and was disappointed again when she put her hands to her mouth in a silent giggle.

Osine also felt a little bad. Her driver seemed to be making a real effort to help her get into the narrative as well as the character and she couldn’t show her appreciation very well. When he said something else about how it was a pleasure to have such a gorgeous lady who didn’t look like she wanted to have him for lunch, she tried to sign that she wasn’t able to talk. She wasn’t sure he understood, which didn’t help her confidence in being able to communicate with Torvan. She tapped her lips and made an opening and closing gesture, then shook her head and made chopping motions.

“You don’t speak English?” Bert guessed.

She nodded slowly and shrugged. It wasn’t quite right, but close enough. She blew him a kiss and started making minute adjustments to her tail and costume, twisting to see if she could detect any bunching or slips between doll top and fish bottom. She felt a little bad at how quiet her driver was for the rest of the trip, and decided she’d find a way to make it up to him.

For his part, Bert had gotten the idea, but wondered why his fare had suddenly decided to clam up and become a silent character. She’d been a real good talker before. He kept up an occasional comment, trying to put her at her ease. She mostly replied with hard to understand gestures and moving her eye. As he drove, he realized that her smile hadn’t moved an inch and thought maybe she was practicing some kind of facial exercise.

He had to help her out of the car when they arrived, and before she let go of him, she pressed her lips to his cheek. He was aware suddenly of how waxy her skin was, how un-lifelike. Still, the lips were warm and squishy, and he accepted the kiss on the cheek as her way of showing there were no hard feelings. Rather than turning the rideshare back on immediately, he watched her mince away, waving when she turned to look at him and feeling just a little bit better when she blew him a kiss and then turned a corner.

Osine was glad her driver had been so understanding and enjoyed looking at her but she could have done without him loitering around! Shuffling as fast as she could was tiring, but she needed to be out of his sight and Torvan’s if he wanted a good review for the ride. She wasn’t going to fiddle with her boob right where either of them could see her! With a quick note about how she appreciated his patience with her ‘voice issues’ she put her phone away, gave her left breast a good squeeze and press to make sure it had sealed up, and shuffled the rest of the way to the pool.

Torvan’s happy greeting when he caught sight of her warmed her already overheating heart. He was in a full, dark red mer-tail himself, and she was a little annoyed when he didn’t move from what she was starting to think of as the sunning shelf, forcing her to come to him. At the pool’s edge, she fell into the water with an ungainly splash, but followed that up with more grace as she accustomed herself to the fin. Since the mask’s mouth didn’t open anyway, all that had to seal was the nose. Being chesty meant having plenty of space to secret a couple of air canisters, and since Torvan wasn’t going to be a gentleman, she was in no hurry as she experimented with strokes and kicks of her tail. The water was a double relief this time, helping with the heat of her full-body costume and the mobility issues of her tail.

She thought about just gliding around the bottom for awhile, sulking in the deeps to protest Torvan’s lack of movement. Let him get worried about how maybe she wasn’t experienced with mermaid tails and perhaps he should rescue her. The image of him coming down for her and pulling her up, cradling her in those strong arms was appealing. On the other hand, it was understandable if he didn’t want to heave himself upright and move in the ungainly manner of a fish on dry land. With a powerful kick, she darted towards the shelf, surfacing with enough momentum to send her sliding up and over into the shallow shelf filled with fake rocks to sit up on. His laughter when he got his first good sight of her mermaid costume made it worth all the effort.

“I deserve this,” he said, sliding on the smooth tiles to sit next to her. At the tilt of her head he amended, “This obvious commentary on my lack of politeness at trying to get you to reveal all before you were ready, I mean.” He stroked her sculpted, plastic cheek and she pressed up against him, eager for him to explore the results of his presumption on her identity.” He tipped her face up and kissed her. “It’s nice not to have scales scratching me whenever I do this, but I liked it better when you could open your mouth.”

Osine twisted around and looked at him upside-down, her hair pooling around her in the shallow water. She flicked her tail for emphasis, sending a spray against his face.

“Yes, I know I’m getting what’s coming to me.” He said. “I also liked it better when you could talk.” This earned a tight embrace and a nuzzle. Then she sat up and put her finger to his lips. “No,” he said, “just because you’re playing the Little Mermaid game doesn’t mean you can make me.” She crossed her arms and huffed silently. “Go ahead, you’re only making yourself look sexier when you do that. Yes,” he said in reply to an unmistakable heft, “I’m enjoying them, though they’re a little big for my taste.”

Osine gestured at an invisible audience, and he replied, “If you’re saying that all the other mermaids had big tits, and I asked for a mermaid, then yes, I am once again getting exactly what I deserve.” He turned her back around and gathered her into his arms. “Since I’ll never even know your name, much less get to know you by listening, why don’t we just sit here for awhile and enjoy the sun?”

She closed her eyes, hoping that her smile would look contented. They sat like that for a long time, her tail laid out over his, their cheeks touching and his arm around her. She let herself float away with him in a comfortable haze, surprised at how easily they fell into the intimacy despite him not knowing who she was or even being able to say a word. She was brought back at his touch as he rubbed her side and belly. “The water just slides off you,” he murmured in her ear. “I kind of like it.”

She turned over and pressed her lips to his, luxuriating in the feel of his hands roving over her back and encircling her waist. Her own hands massaged his chest and belly and even through two mer-tails she could feel she was having an effect on him. Their pelvises moved up and down unconsciously, primal human need overriding their conscious attempts to maintain character. Feeling that she might break down and also break character if his expert attentions pushed her any further, she tightened her grasp around his middle and yet again dragged him away with her into the depths.

This time their movements were synchronized by their matching costumes, and he was ready for her. They swam around each other, touching, separating, surfacing, and diving. His undulations drove her as wild as hers did him, and she forgot about air canisters and the pink makeup which worked as a sealant as well as blending tail to doll flesh so that no matter how roughly they pressed together before swimming back down and around in opposing corkscrews, her tail never moved a millimeter. It was as if she were a real mermaid, just as she’d intended, and it kept her from thinking about taking it off, too. She knew she couldn’t, and that helped her stay as Osine during the long mating dance.

Torvan’s seemed pretty well stuck on as well, though he unlike Osine wasn’t trying to be someone else, so he was free to occasionally adjust himself. She envied him the luxury and every time he looked like he was about to, she’d pounce on him. They finally fetched up back near the shelf and she enacted her fantasy by throwing her arms around him. She was his doll, she thought, so it was his job to pick her up and put her somewhere else. He retaliated by – once they were both settled – picking her up again and putting her on top of one of the rocks.

“Since you airbrushed yourself and gave yourself that perfect model’s expression, it would be a shame for it to go to waste, he said. He arranged her tail just so on the rock so that she sat a little sideways, propped on one perfectly unblemished hand with the fork of the tail flicking this way and that in the tiny waves of their motion. He got out and hurried inside, hampered by his tail. She let herself laugh at him when he was out of earshot, but was again the perfect silent mermaid doll by the time he got back with a chunky camera.

He held the camera up in silent question and she nodded. The terror her human self felt at the idea of being photographed as a mermaid with only two shells to protect her modesty sharpened the split between Osine and her other self, making her strangely less apprehensive. She turned her chin a little and shivered in mixed fear and delight at the shutter clicks. She looked at him, then away, then lay back and lifted her tail, returning to the pose that let her shining aquamarine hair spread out around her head. This was what a doll did, she thought. She looked good, and she enacted his fantasies even if they were ultimately empty ones. It was his choice, his desire. If he wanted something else, a partner or at least someone who gave him more than he put in, he could respect her boundaries.

When the photo session was done, the sun was starting to lower. She allowed herself to be lifted out of the pool and brought inside, enjoying every moment of his discomfort at having to carry her around while also wearing a bulky and restrictive mer-tail himself. They sat close to each other in the hot tub, and when he fell asleep on her shoulder, his hands on her breasts, she just sat there. It wasn’t her place to wake him up, to drive anything. She was just an object of his desire. Though she had to admit that she was a damn good looking one, and the jets of water made her boobs do some very interesting things. Being a doll wasn’t so bad when she could spend her time waiting with a view like that.

“All right, you win!” He said when he woke up. “You’re lovely, but I promise I won’t try to make you do anything you don’t want to. Happy?” She tilted her head, and then nodded, returning to a little more life by embracing him and nuzzling his neck. “I want to see you again. Next week or maybe sooner?” She shook her head and put up three fingers. “That long! Why?” She shrank back and he relented. “Fine, three weeks. I know the answer, but another costume pool party?” She nodded happily and he sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear.”

Osine shook her head and put her hand on his chest. Pointing at him, she pointed at herself and back to him. “I’m not sure. You mean you wear one and I don’t? That’s hardly fair.” She shook her head and made a complicated set of gestures taking in her outfit, pointing at him, then pulling a zipper up on his belly and chest. “You mean you want me to wear your – no. You’re going to pick what I wear?” She nodded again, making a mock forehead wipe gesture. “You’ll bring it with you?” Another nod. “Have it your way, but if you’re going to get all that, then can I ask at least that you think about letting me get a little closer to you next time?” She tilted her head, then nodded and hugged him tightly.

Her human self might hate her for it, but he deserved more. She wasn’t sure if it would be next time, but soon. She’d reveal all to him soon. He seemed to like her, but she like Icthya wasn’t real. He liked a … a box of masks. They all reflected something about the real, everyday person she’d become when she took off the tail, but that person would never have done all the things she and Icthya had. Mermaids and monster queens didn’t give in to fear, she said to herself, bracingly, and maybe it was time for her shy inner self to take some tips from the outer shell they’d made.

Torvan went as far as to swim with her back down the length of the pool as she cooled off, then got out and helped her do the same, commenting on how having a smooth-handed doll wasn’t as much fun as he’d thought as her hand almost slipped in his. It would have been a fitting way to end the evening if she’d fallen backwards and flopped back into the pool after all that.

It occurred to her that going home using Torvan’s private car might tell him more than she wanted him to know, but as she sat back and let herself float away on the memories of the day, she decided that since he hadn’t used car’s destination against her, that he’d respected her that far. Lucky for her that the driver remembered where Icthya had gone or else Osine might have been in a lot of trouble. Blessing that her apartment building had an elevator, she was whisked up and was back in her own space in no time. She showered to get the pool chemicals off and returned to her bedroom to disrobe. Another spray dissolved the seal on her tail, and with thoughts of what she was going to make Torvan wear getting her primed -as if she needed it after everything else that day – she shoved the vibrator down the waistband of the tail and fell back on her bed. She thought about sealing the tail back up with the vibrator inside, and then of sealing Torvan up with it. So many happy dreams to aid the toy’s job, and all of them within reach.

Mua swept a webbed hand, jet black on the outside, snowy white on the palm, over his black and white maw. He bared his teeth at the mirror, marveling at how the fangs which had filled Icthya’s mouth looked so much bigger in the face of the rubber-skinned orca. He turned sideways and gave his long tail a twang, watching it wave back and forth until it settled again into the stiff, alert position standing straight out from his butt that it usually maintained. He checked that his black head fin was standing up straight and centered, then rubbed his flank. The loud squeak put him in mind of two pool toys scratching against each other. He pretended to flex, though the rubber muscles on his arms, chest, and belly were always in that state. He’d worked very hard with latex paint to maintain the contours on his front while hiding the zipper, and now there seemed to be no sign outwardly that there had ever been a track of opening.

Unable to resist any longer, he spread his legs and grabbed the rubber sheathed shaft in both cool, smooth hands. It was so big! He’d never experienced having something like this swinging between his legs and the caress was meant not just to admire but to inform. He felt the tingle inside the suit, the pressure, and the stroke. Good. He’d hate to have his way with Leucosia and have to fake it the entire time. At first, putting on the orca suit had been exactly like wearing Icthya, but adjusting the penis sheath and painting his chest had made it a special experience. He was glad; he felt oddly less fierce than Icthya, but more methodical. She wouldn’t spend an hour and a half with a paintbrush painstakingly blending her belly, but this man-beast would.

As he continued to try to differentiate himself from Icthya in a meaningful way that wasn’t just a bunch of gender stereotypes, he checked that Leucosia was still safely packed, and then put on a pair of trunks. Icthya could get away with being naked, but Mua wasn’t so lucky. Like her, his tail doubled as a storage space, and soon he was waiting at the curb for his ride.

“So,” Bert said as his most unusual fare swung into the backseat yet again and pushed his tail over so he could sit, “it’s not often I drive a shark.”

“Nah, man, not a shark,” the creature said in a musical baritone. “I’m an orca. Killer whale.” He smiled and Bert smiled back.

“I had a fare just last month with pointy teeth and a fin. Know her?”

“Yeah, we go way back.” The orca said. “Icthya’s a wild gal, ya know. Wild, but always hungry. I like a good meal, but there’s more to it on land than what’s on the menu.” He seemed to be warming to his topic. “Icthya, yeah, she comes up out of the waves and next thing anyone knows, she’s gone again and so is some man up on the ship. Me, I come up and I watch a little. I wait. You can’t rush these things. Half the time, she pulls down someone who isn’t even worth the effort, or worse has grabbed a harpoon on his way down and then she has to fight to get anywhere. Me, I look around, I find the ladies. Not the ones who throw the harpoon harder than the guys. They’re scary. No, I find the ones in the big dresses who lay around all day being brought tea and carry parasols. They almost never fight hard, and they’re always better on the stomach than the lean, tough sailor men.”

“Sounds like you’ve got things pretty well figured out.” Bert said, not sure if this new sea monster was more or less scary for his thoughtful attitude towards eating people. “What brings you this far inland, then?”

“Icthya, she tells me about this wild party she went to. She tells me that there is someone there I have to meet. So I come, I meet them. Icthya doesn’t see far, but she knows a good time when she has one.” He patted the bag he’d unslung from his shoulder and placed next to his tail. “I think to myself that if she can find herself a king of the depths, maybe I can find a queen of the waves.”

“If you keep on taking us, maybe we ought to start fishing for love.” Bert said.

“Hey, if you find someone who wants to go with you, be my guest.” Mua replied. “It’s a free ocean, yeah?”

Mua left his trunks at the gate, sauntering over to the poolside with his fishy shaft swinging. Torvan looked stunned and didn’t get up from the deck chair he’d been lounging in as Mua approached him. Taking advantage, the orca-man settled down on top of Torvan, his long member pressed into Torvan’s belly as his rubbery lips – black on bottom and white on top – caressed Torvan’s chin and mouth. “Were you expecting someone else?” Mua asked, nudging Torvan so they could lay pressed together side by side, Mua’s lanky, toned arm snaking under Torvan’s shoulder to hold him.

Torvan recovered with a laugh at Mua’s honeyed but masculine voice. He rubbed Mua’s belly, and Mua grunted happily at the attention. “Yes, but I shouldn’t have!” His hand moved down and Mua’s own held it before Torvan could start exploring how sensitive Mua was.

Mua moved Torvan’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it, adding a nip. “Remember what Osine – the mermaid – told you? I see a soft, hairy, landlocked ape. Time to fix that.” He swung the bag up and over, landing it on Torvan’s side. “Do you want me to help you change? If not, I promise I won’t be a free willy or make free with my willy until you get back.”

“I think it only fair to both of us that you have to wait outside while I make myself –“ he looked in the bag and grinned, “pretty. I’ve never gotten to see you in anything less than perfect condition.” He got up and skipped into the house. Mua kept his promise, although he couldn’t help a few tweaks as he thought about how beautiful Leucosia was going to be when she came out.

He was not disappointed. From the red-beige tights, bra, and opera glove markings to the eggshell body and face, the voluptuous sea mammal woman was everything he’d hoped she’d be. The body had been stretchy, so he hadn’t worried so much about it, but he’d had to guess about mask measurements and he was glad to see that she could move her heavy, dark lids and black lined lips easily and naturally. She wiggled out the door and then posed with her hand on a popped hip, lips pouted and eyes open as far as the almond-eyed sexy mask would allow. With her other hand, she ran dark fingers down the source of her annoyance. “I know I’m supposed to be a seal girl,” she said, gratefully letting Mua rise and help her to a chair, “but do you really need to give me a flipper?”

Mua smiled both at her tone and the mellifluous voice. They now had matching male and female versions of the same smooth voice. “You’re a sea lion, dear Leucosia,” he said, stroking her long, thick, honey blonde hair. “That’s why you have a mane.”

“Very nice. If I get to have land lion hair, why not legs too?”

“Well…” Mua said with a wicked grin which Leucosia matched with a little sharp-toothed smile. “I could do this.” He made a swift gesture between her legs, which popped free of the membrane holding them together.

“How do you switch?” She said, looking with delighted interest and kicking her smooth, rubber-spandex clad legs.

Mua climbed on top of her and after a long kiss, Leucosia let out an outraged squeak to find her legs stuck together again. “Maybe I’ll tell you later. After a little race?”

“Hmph!” Leucosia crossed her arms, which were almost lost under her breasts. “Why do you get to name me, huh? You haven’t even told me your name.”

“I’m Mua.” Mua told her, stroking her hair as she pretended to be angry and looked away from him. “I get to pick the name because I brought the outfit.”

“Fine outfit. You’ve come all prepared,” she said, grabbing his black-coated penis roughly and making his eyes almost pop out. “But you’re not going to have much to do with it with me trussed up like this.”

Mua grinned and with a finger illustrated his point by putting it through the gap between her upper thighs. “That’s why the join doesn’t go all the way up.”

“It might as well for all the use you’re going to get out of it.” She said, but then giggled and cried out in happy protestation as his finger crooked and moved up. “That’s amazing!” She gasped. “It almost feels better than it would if my –“

“Why don’t we go swimming?” Mua said, standing up and offering a hand.

“Tease.” Leucosia said, accepting his aid. “You know, you’re really bossy when you’re the one in charge. I never got so fresh when you were a lizard fish, or a mermaid. And you don’t get to name me, handsome. I’m Symphony, so deal with it.”

“Who knows? Maybe you would have gotten a lot further with me if you had been fresh.” Mua teased.

“Fat chance.” Symphony hefted her bosom and rubbed her flank. “I know it’s just silicone and whatever, but it feels so natural.” She flashed Mua a sharp, knowing smirk. “I wonder just how much of you has been natural all this time.”

“All of it and none!” Mua cried, leaping into the deep end of the pool. Symphony slithered after him, and they met at the edge, each holding on with one hand while entwining their other with their partner’s. “Ready for that race?”

“More than you know.” Symphony said with a gleam. “I’ve been watching you, honey, and I know something you don’t.” Mua’s confident grin faltered for once, and Symphony took full advantage. “Three, two, one, go!” She said, pushing off as best as she could with her flipper tail.

Wrong-footed, Mua still had the early advantage because his legs were free to push as hard as he could against the pool wall. He overtook Symphony at first, and having webbed hands and feet while she had her flipper and long, slender, but unwebbed fingers made him confident that he’d easily keep the lead. As they passed the island, he was aware as he frog paddled with hard strokes that every time he surfaced, Symphony was a little bit closer, and then as they neared the sunning shelf that she was ahead! He redoubled his efforts, but with a smooth, almost effortless grace she sailed on her own bow wave over the lip and onto the sunning shelf, twisting expertly to come to rest with her back to a plastic rock. She gave herself a little hoist and by the time Mua clambered up, she was sitting with her leg-flippers curled around it. As he approached, she lay back so that her hair trailed in the water and forced him to crawl all the way around to talk to her.

“What kept you?” She asked with a deep laugh at his expression. It was his turn to be outraged.

“How did you beat me?”

“You mean how did I beat you when my legs were stuck together and you had those awfully unfair hand and foot enhancements? How did I, a mere damsel of the shore who isn’t even a proper fish beat a mighty killer whale? How ungallant.” She closed her eyes in a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll tell you when you tell me how to unstick my legs.” With a huff, Mua showed her the trick of how to press against the web and, with her legs pressed together, how to push just so to make the webbing form again. Sitting up and kicking her legs with their dark, floppy fin ends in the water, Symphony continued. “How’d I beat you when you cheated? Easy, I’m a better swimmer, love. I thought it was obvious, though these enormous nonsenses, “she grabbed his tail and cock, “don’t help. I struggled to keep up with Icthya because I wasn’t streamlined or webbed, and we never raced around as mer-people. Care to learn how to do the butterfly properly?” She teased.

Mua grumbled. “I’m supposed to be the one taking charge.” But he let Symphony hold him and move his arms and legs.

“Keeping your legs tightly pressed together.” She said critically as he demonstrated what she’d taught. “I can do it even without you sticking them.” She showed off by doing a perfect lap with her legs never separating and arms always positioned just right. “It’s all down to practice, you big silly hunk.” She climbed back on the shelf and rubbed his chest, their noses almost touching. “Of course, I have another advantage there, I bet. I have a pool and you don’t.”

Mua pulled her down the rest of the way into a kiss, and then rolled them over so he was on top. “No more messing around,” he said.

“So romantic,” she said. “Give a girl some flowers first!” She wrapped her legs around him, and their embrace only ended when Mua’s hand which had been caressing her breast let go and he said, “I almost forgot to show you. He gave her boob a squeeze and she licked his nose.

“I can’t feel that you know.”

“Maybe not, but even if it isn’t as fun for you to fondle, it does have some fun parts inside. Here,” he guided her hand to the right place and squeezed hard. “Feel that?”

“It’s a hard spot?” She guessed.

“Yeah, air canister. Did you notice how your mouth and nose holes close when you’re underwater?”

“Yeah, scared the heck out of me!” She said. “You could have said something earlier!” She punched his arm and he pretended to wince.

“When that happens, a little tube should stick out of the inside of the mask. You can pull air from the canister through it.”

“Another unfair advantage?” She said.

“We both have it now.”

“Mmm,” she purred. “I did so enjoy watching Icthya, and I envied her too, having so much fun flitting back and forth all the way down there for so long.” She pulled herself over to the edge and slid in. “Your turn to watch me.” She called, and dove deep.

Of course, Mua couldn’t watch for long before giving in to temptation and joining the shapely shadow at the bottom of the pool. She teased him when he surfaced more often than she did at first, but then chose to be more cautious as well. On one dive as they skimmed the bottom together, Mua reached out and pulled Symphony to him. They corkscrewed in the embrace and then as if reading each other’s mind, she opened her legs just enough and his rubber coated penis went in. They kissed hard, though neither opened their masks so they could only feel the other’s tongue through a thick insulating layer. Then they separated again to surface, neither wanting to risk coming up faster than the other and ending the intimate moment painfully. Despite having an air supply down below, they gasped when they breached, and clasped hands.

“My turn to invite you to the hot tub,” Mua said.

“Cheater,” she said fondly. “Always taking advantage.”

“How’s that?”

“By starting the monkey business here and making me want the spa even more!” She got out first and looked back at Mua, hand on hip. “I could get used to looking this sexy.”

“You always look sexy.” Mua said with feeling.

Symphony pecked him on the nose. “Thanks, lover. Looking this sexy to myself all the time might be dangerous. I’d never go out.” She bent over, hands on knees, and wiggled her rump at him. “I’d just do this,” she straightened up and started bouncing until she looked like her nipples might hit her in the face, “or this all day.”

Mua couldn’t help pulling her into his lap the moment they were settled in the steamy, bubbly water. His hands kept roaming over her body; curves were much more enjoyable on someone else, he decided as she giggled when his hand crossed a ticklish spot near her armpit. She twisted around, straddling him and firmly keeping his hands on her sides and chest, making it clear she wanted to take advantage of him this time. He let her take charge, though as she slid up in preparation, nothing could stop him from momentarily cupping her behind and giving that round butt a few good rubs. Then she’d went back down, her hand guiding him into her as she did so. When his hips gave an involuntary thrust, she nipped his nose warningly.

She tried her hardest to get him all the way inside her, wiggling and pushing, but had to laugh as she only got about halfway down before her natural impediments made it impossible to go further. Mua’s orca endowment would have been too much for most real women, and there was even less space in the pocket which kept Torvan’s own trapped behind a thin wall of soft, stretchy fabric that had no doubt been stimulating her the entire time. In fact, most of her skin was made of that same bikini swimsuit fabric rather than latex or rubber like Mua or Icthya, so she’d been embraced and teased by the sensuous material all over. The human inside Mua hadn’t been sure whether to go that far, but thoughts of how it would feel trying on Leucosia – now Symphony. Purely for test purposes of course. Imagining how a costume like that would feel made the choice an easy one. “Let’s see what you can do, big boy,” she said, tossing her long blonde locks over her shoulder.

With permission given, he held her waist and started thrusting, with the sea lion lady joining his rhythm. The bubbles rose around them and the water lapped over the edge as their play got more vigorous. During one lull, Symphony looked over at Mua and then seemed to come to a decision. “I have to try!” She said. “I may never find out otherwise.” Before he could ask what she’d been thinking about, she’d taken him in her mouth and was alternately sucking, licking, and chewing.

“Hey! I’m not a rubber bone.” He laughed, tickled by the impression of the sharp teeth through the rubber sheath.

“That’s exactly what you are,” she replied through a mouthful of him.

Mua was breathing heavily. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to get more than that in your mouth.”

Symphony grinned wickedly and redoubled her efforts. “Good. Then I’ll have the answer to one more question. What does your spunk taste like, I wonder? I’ve done girls and boys, my dear, and I know the difference.”

“No … fair,” Mua said, but couldn’t stop himself. He lay back, spent as the curvy sea lion curled up in his arms.

“One more question answered,” she teased. “Soon I shall know all your secrets!” Symphony looked up at Mua. “I usually get to know someone better before trying all this experimental stuff.”

Mua massaged her back and she closed her eyes. “Upset at being on the receiving end?”

“Mmm, no.” She sighed, squirming under his ministrations. “I wouldn’t call it that. We were both giving pretty hard.” She pulled his tail around and laid her head on it, her blonde hair obscuring the fin. “I’ve had my share of penetration in the other end.” She paused. “This relationship in reverse thing is fun. Learning so much about you before being able to put a name or a face to the idea of you works for me.”

Mua’s heart was pounding and Symphony seemed to notice something because she looked up. As their eyes met, Mua knew it was time. The human beneath was afraid, and Mua accepted that fear. Icthya and Osine too. Even through the sea lion mask, the expression of tenderness was plain. There was more at stake than ever now that Torvan acted so attached. Did anyone else get ‘private parties?’ Mua didn’t think so.

Gently, he pulled the mask from Symphony’s face, and now it was Torvan looking up at him. Torvan with an exaggeratedly feminine figure, but Torvan. Mua guided Torvan’s hands to where the join was, showed him how to break the latex paint seals. He closed his eyes as his face fell away and the naked, fearful one was revealed. There was no cry of recognition; the person Torvan had gotten to know was so much more than the one who had first been sent that invitation, dispatched with low expectations that they would even show up.

The next sensation was Torvan’s lips, and they sank beneath the water in a hot, slow passion that was everything the former orca had hoped for, but always been afraid would never be found. Zippers were undone and as Torvan led they way to his bedroom, the incubating waters of their romance were left behind. The empty shells of an orca and a sea lion bobbed and circled one another in the jets of the hot tub, shed just as the first stage of that cautious yet passionate romance had been left behind.

Dear readers: This one just felt right. I'd been kicking around the idea of a man so determined and so in love with his girlfriend that he'd pretend to be a girl to get close to her and find out what she likes and wants. This is Maurice. He knows its ethically questionable, but he loves Shannon so much that he wants to get everything right so perfectly that Shannon is never disappointed or wishing for anything more.
This takes place in the same continuity as the UA, but as you will see later on, but be at least twenty years later. My guess is the 2060s. This also takes place at the very end of the story. It seemed the best place to start.

Everyone in the gang knew that Joel always got silly when he’d had too many beers and naturally they did everything they could to make sure it happened as often as possible. Of course, they were all still in high school, so it was sometimes difficult to manage, but they always knew Robbie’s dad was good for a round. He had some idea that beer was all-American and that teenagers - especially football players - should indulge, though not too often. The point was that Joel was well past his limit and was beginning to talk. The others weren’t quite as inebriated, but quite willing to join in when he looked Maurice straight in the eye and said, “What does she see in you?”

Maurice Arlynna started. He’d been thinking about something else while Joel babbled on. “Hmm?”

“Shannon. You know. Your girlfriend.” He said slowly and loudly, as if it were Maurice who was too far into his cups. “Shannon O’Bryan. Tall, blonde, best legs in the entire school. The most popular, prettiest,” he paused, trying to think of more superlatives and finally gave up, “best damn ass ever made. Her.”

Maurice smiled. He didn’t go in for drinks much and was mostly sober. “I don’t refer to her ass, for one thing.” He shrugged. “I try to be her friend as well as her boyfriend.”

“See?” Jimmy said, “That’s the sort of sensitive crap that keeps this scrawny little geek neck high in babes. The world just ain’t for us manly men any more. No sir.”

Maurice laughed. “You all can talk. Shannon may prefer me, but it seems like you guys trade around every other good looking girl from freshman class to senior.” He looked around at the assembled football team.

“’Trade around’ is right, shorty.” Kirk said. “Not one of them is willing to go steady. You’ve had Shannon since sophomore year. It’s awful.”

“Love and commitment, man. It’s amazing what it can get you.” Their tiny running back told them.

“I think,” Joel said carefully. “That I have enough to worry about without love and commitment getting involved. Who wants another beer?”

Maurice usually left the team parties early. This time the conversation about Shannon ran on so long that he found himself an hour later in than he’d planned and had to beat a hasty exit. It was Saturday afternoon and he had to meet Shannon at the mall for some shopping in a couple of hours. Not that Shannon knew, of course. That was why Maurice needed the time. When he’d met Shannon, she’d already gotten a sizable group of girlfriends who did all the usual things groups of teenage girls did. It was soon after that they had - at first reluctantly - accepted into their circle an unusual addition. The area was not known for its diversity and when they first met the conservatively dressed Middle Eastern Shar Wazad, they’d been skeptical. When she began to show interest in assimilating - that is, wearing normal clothes and makeup - the group had seen the opportunity for a project. Now Shar was nothing unusual. Just another member of the clique, though with a tan that they all envied come summer, and the one with the closest relationship to Shannon. That was as far as they knew.

Maurice stood in his bedroom totally naked and thought about what he was going to wear today. He’d released the hidden catches on the side of his closet and pushed it on its rails so that instead of the normal wardrobe of T-shirts, sneakers and sports equipment, the closet reflected a much more feminine occupant. From a high shelf, he’d pulled down the boxes containing what he’d need at first to make the transition from boyfriend to best friend.

When he’d started, all he could afford was a cheap voice changer from the internet, a few foundation garments and some makeup. Not even a decent wig. That was why he’d chosen to be a traditional Muslim girl at first. He could wear clothes that covered his entire body except his face and hands and be considered merely unusual rather than bizarre, as any other female would appear who wore that much in the warm climate of the American southwest. Doing enough with his face had been a challenge, and he’d spent hours practicing the right movements before he felt safe going out and approaching Shannon O’Bryan.

The thing was, Maurice was shy. Especially back when he’d first seen Shannon as a freshman and wondered if someone so pretty would ever even talk to the little geek who sat in the front of the class. From what he could see from afar, she seemed a nice person and only lovelier as the year passed. That was why in the summer he’d gone to so much trouble to dress up and approach her not as a student and a male but as a female and a possible friend. He’d intended only to talk to her a couple of times as Shar, but when Shannon had made a big deal out of making her friends accept the disguised Maurice, he’d had to continue. That was when he knew he’d have to begin ‘giving in’ to their peer pressure and slowly transform from a demure and modest immigrant to a proper American teenage girl. He’d started slow, but also looked for ways to take the illusion further and further. Maurice saved his money and did a bit of research. In hindsight, that period had been very odd. First his popup blocker had gone on the blink and seemed intent on trying to sell him this ridiculous toy gun and also informing him he’d ‘won’ the ‘transformation of a lifetime.’ He had to hand it to whoever did those targeted ads. They were getting really accurate. The next day, he’d been walking home and thinking the problem over when some weird black box with foreign writing on it fell on him. There wasn’t anyone nearby and after no one had claimed it at the police station, he’d auctioned the thing off on e-bay. Someone had said it looked like the Pandorica and then written the best seller review he’d ever gotten, saying the thing was ‘better than a TARDIS’ whatever that meant. Then he’d been at the mall and some hippy in a bathrobe with stars on it and a pointy hat had come out of one of those New Age stores full of spiritual junk and tried to tell him that for whatever he had in his pocket, he could get his heart’s desire. He’d told the old geezer he didn’t want any and never saw the man - or oddly enough the store - again. After doing some proper shopping, he’d found several possibilities. There was the Takagi brand, but the reviews all included warnings that users needed a high tolerance for pain and there were several warnings of possible psychopathic side effects. It was too expensive anyway. Rumor had it that Borden Enterprises had made something good, but only for the military. A bit cheaper was the Mark V out of Femskin. That was the second choice behind what he eventually decided on, which was a T.I.M Body Alteration Suit.

He’d been a bit leery but after using it, he had to agree. Somehow, that Michael Falkner had managed to produce an item as real in function and appearance as a Takagi but cheaper than a Femskin. Of course, there was a catch. M. Falkner himself took an interest in how his products were used and had control measures in them so they couldn’t be misused. “As long as you use it for pleasure, fun or the increase of joy in the world, you may use my machines,” he’d said. “But I expect regular reports and that you answer any question I may ask and take into consideration what advice I may give.” In fact, there was an e-mail in his inbox from Falkner right now. Maurice knew better than to ignore it, and opened it before going further. “Maurice,” the e-mail read, “you are getting dangerously close to blowing it. Honesty may occur accidentally in the near future if it is not given freely and she won’t like finding out the hard way. MF.” In other words, he foresaw that Shannon would figure out who Shar really was soon. Maurice would have ignored it if Falkner’s other predictions hadn’t proven correct in all cases. T.I.M. Technology Indistinguishable from Magic. That definitely described the methods and effects of Michael Falkner’s machinery. He’d once sent a glowing report of how the BAS had performed at a pool party and Falkner had replied, “I didn’t make it. I just learned to use it.”

Maurice unfolded the object that had taken weeks of questions, measurements, photos and several online interviews with Falkner to obtain, not to mention the money. Laid out on his bed, it looked like the skin of a person had been removed and only partially stuffed. The breasts were full, and the rest had irregular lumps where the cybernetics interacted with Maurice’s physiology. To present the best possible appearance, there were no zippers, but a rather embarrassing method of entry. Maurice still felt a blush start as he put his fingers into Shar’s vagina and released the catches in her crotch. The skin and genitals detached and fell forwards as Maurice lifted the skin above his head to position himself better. He pulled Shar’s torso apart and drew it down over his head. There was a squeeze at the neck and then he was inside, fumbling with hands outside of the costume to move the tubes in the lips, nostrils and ears so that they entered the correct orifices on his own face. He stretched Shar’s eyelids over his own and checked in the mirror to make sure they moved with his own. Already he was a male with a female head, a body hanging from his neck in front and Shar’s long black hair falling in waves down his back. He stretched the crotch again and pushed his right arm and hand through, pulling the skin down once it reached the entry for Shar’s right arm. When he was satisfied that all five fingers on her right hand were properly situated, Shar used her newly feminized right arm to guide her left into its housing. She tugged at the skin until it was smooth across her middle and her breasts sat where they were supposed to, pulling in her gut so that the skin could cover it. Gently, she rubbed them, not for pleasure or out of need to watch a girl fondle herself in the mirror, but to line up Maurice’s nipples with the indentation that led by sensory feedback circuitry to her own. With that finished, she pushed her belly button into Maurice’s. With those in their right places, she could be satisfied that her skin was sitting correctly. She pushed on her buttocks as well to make sure that the tube inside had penetrated Maurice properly.

Shar sat her now shapely posterior on the end of Maurice’s bed and drew her male legs as far back as possible while pulling her empty female legs forward the same way. This part had worried Maurice at first, but the thin, elastic skin never broke and Shar drew first her left and then her right leg into the tight confines of the skin. She wiggled her toes and bent down to pull on them so that they were all filled with their male mate. The skin was very tight down there indeed and she could feel the pulse in her male legs as the arteries were compressed. Almost done, Shar now had to rest and clear her mind. The last part was tricky as it was impossible to wear the skin with an erection but difficult to put on without some stiffness. When she judged that her last male part was ready, she sat up and threaded it into the mesh of electronics that would provide not only sensory feedback but a measure of protection. It would look suspicious if she were suddenly debilitated by a blow to the crotch that any other female would have no difficulty with. Her member secure, she pulled her external crotch back with her right hand and used her now slender left fingers to activate the latches within. One thing about thinner fingers, Shar thought, they work a lot better for this sort of thing. With her body now complete, Shar had only to activate the suit properly. Unlike Takagi suits which had the button behind the ear where it might get pressed, Falkner had put the controls in as a verbal command. Shar lay down and braced herself, saying, “Zero seven four, Code Solvezia activate.” He had no idea what most of that meant, but Maurice was also absolutely certain he’d never say the words to turn the BAS on or off accidentally.

Maurice had bought the BAS because Falkner had assured him it didn’t hurt much. Falkner, after Maurice’s first report, had clarified that. “I meant relative to the competition, dear boy.” He’d written. “After all, having your bits compressed like that and rearranged and so on can hardly be accomplished without some discomfort.” He’d been right, there, but Maurice had to admit that the transition from masculine female to feminine female wasn’t that bad. When the suit was doing its startup diagnostic of erogenous zones, for instance.

When the transformation was finished, Shar looked up at the ceiling and kicked her legs. She always enjoyed looking at them once they were properly slimmed down. The vision of those mocha extremities was calming for some reason. Presently she rose and checked herself in the mirror. “All systems check out.” She said to herself, also making sure that her voice was properly pitched. Of course it was. That still-developing alto never failed. “Now, what to wear,” she continued, surveying her closet. When she’d started, she’d had a couple of full-length skirts and scarves and that was about it. Now she had every kind of shirt, blouse, skirt, skort, short, shirt, pants and miscellaneous tops, bottoms and middles she could imagine. And yet she still shopped! She’d have one pair of shoes and now they overflowed their crate. She was beginning to think that at the present rate she’d never manage every good combination. “I’m not thinking like a proper American,” she scolded herself. “The whole point is never having less than five outfits for any occasion.” She felt like something light colored and short. That meant light colored underwear with a corresponding cut and before Shar knew it she had assembled her entire outfit including shoes. Now that she had a body, she loved to show it off and the skirt and top combination she’d picked did that. She stood in front of her mirror and turned, enjoying both the feel and the look of her skirt as it flared out from halfway up her thighs to barely decent. A couple of quick bounces both satisfied her male need to watch breasts move, that Maurice’s nipples were indeed secure and made sure that the top would hold them. She also couldn’t resist walking a couple of times around the room and watching herself do it from all angles. What was the point in buying technology to turn you into a teenage girl if you weren’t a hot one?

“Shar! Hey, Shar!” Shannon called from the second floor. When Shar had taken the escalator up, Shannon said, “You’re late.”

Shar grinned back. “Sorry, Shan. My parents kept giving me trouble about seeing you.”

“Corrupting their innocent flower of the desert, that sort of thing?”

“That sort of thing, yes,” Shar replied, taking Shannon’s usual teasing without comment. “Speaking of corruptive elements, where’d everyone go?”

Shannon pointed to the Hollister down the hall. “They went on. I figured you wouldn’t be too long.” They walked, stopping every third store to look in the windows. Shannon paused for a much longer time in front of the Charlotte Russe. “Those boots are just to die for.” She said.

Shar looked at what had captivated Shannon’s attention. “Wait. You mean the thigh high black suede ones with the platform heel? Those?”

“Yeah. I tried to get the money for them out of my parents but they said I’d spent enough already for the season. I think it’s really because they thought they were ‘inappropriate.’” She made a face.

“They are a bit suggestive, Shan.” Shar said.

Shannon smiled at Shar. “One of these days, oh fairest petal of the harem rose, we’ll get rid of that bit of conservatism left over.”

“Perhaps one day you will also be so enlightened as to understand that the modern woman should flaunt her body less and her acumen more.”

“You sound like my boyfriend. He’s always saying I’m better than my grades.” Shannon replied, moving on with Shar towards the rest of their group.

“Maurice sounds like a wise man.”

“I’ll give him sweet, but he isn’t very wise until he stops trying to prove his manliness by hanging around with those brain dead jocks.”

“So you’re saying he’s better than his surroundings?”

“Stop winning every argument!” Shannon laughed. “I get that enough from him.”

Shar made a motion as to zip her mouth shut, but smiled as she walked alongside Shannon. They skipped the other windows and made straight for the knot of their friends, now outside the crafts store. “Whatcha looking at?” Shannon called to them.

“Never you mind, young lady!” Brit called back. “We’re shopping for your birthday party. Now take your faithful companion and scoot! Tracy’ll come and get you when we’ve gotten everything into her car.”

“Why cannot I shop for the birthday party?” Shar said in an exaggerated foreign enunciation.

“You’re too tight with Shannon. She’ll make you tell her everything.” Francine said.

“Come on.” Shannon said, taking Shar’s hand. “Let’s go pick out something for the party. I’m sure my parents won’t mind if it’s for my birthday.” As Shar tightened her grip, Shannon gave her an odd look, but didn’t say anything.

Maurice was glad he had Shar and that was for certain. He’d almost forgotten to make plans for Shannon the week before. As they picked out an outfit, he made mental notes on what to complement her on. Not that he’d need them since most of what he was remembering was so evident to him now that he’d have been able to wing it anyway. Shannon also made Shar show her what she intended to wear to the party, instructing her on the occasion and what balance of ‘dressy’, ‘showy’ and other things ending in the letter ‘y’ was appropriate. Even after two years, Shannon didn’t trust Shar’s instinct and Shar didn’t blame her. As she said to Shannon, she never could get the knack of what Western girls ought to look like.

Shar was tired from the day’s shopping and the party before that but still walked briskly with her bags. She always refused to let Shannon walk her home, telling her that her parents had enough trouble with Shar’s current ‘phase’ without meeting Shannon and her friends and getting a bad impression. She slowed down a block away from her house, peering intently at the windows. Maurice’s parents shouldn’t be home, she thought, but there had been close calls in the past. Satisfied that they were still both out doing parent things, she quietly let herself in and went upstairs. Putting her party clothes away carefully, she stepped out of her room and prepared to reward herself for another day of being a good friend to her girlfriend.

One thing about Maurice was that he liked baths. Shar loved them. They gave her a chance to relax and get to know every inch of her body. She never got tired of laying back with one leg out, half covered in suds and watching the bubbles slide down that perfect appendage. A less hedonistic part of her brain snidely reminded her that Maurice had always been a leg man. What the hell, though? It kept Shar in the right Western mindset of serene narcissism. On the other hand, Shar thought as she blow dried her hair and then danced in front of the mirror, she ought to hurry up and not make too much noise, either. Maurice’s romantic birthday dinner with Shannon was next Saturday night and he still had to get those boots for her. He also had to pick up something for Shar to give her on the girls-only party next Sunday night. She gathered up her clothes but didn’t bother to put them on before going back to her room.
Shar was about to turn off the BAS, undo the catches in her crotch and shed her girl form when she saw another e-mail had come from Falkner. Sitting on a girl’s butt was more comfortable and Maurice took a voyeuristic thrill in surfing the web in a naked girl’s body, so she checked that first. “Maurice,” the e-mail read, “Unless matters have changed drastically, you’re still bent on not telling her. This is a mistake. Take it from me, she’d rather learn about it from you than from Shar, as it were. As it is, she’ll lose some trust, but if she finds out on her own, Shannon will almost certainly cease trusting you entirely. Tell her when you take her out for her birthday and don’t try to wiggle out by asking which time. Tell her on the date. She’s not an idiot and from what you’ve been telling me, she’s dangerously close and will find out before the parties are over either way. Damage control, young man, is essential. Michael Falkner.”

He makes it sound so easy, Maurice thought. Just tell Shannon O’Bryan, the love of his life and the best damn girl in the world that he was Shar Wazad. That her boyfriend had spent years pretending to be a girl and becoming her most trusted female friend. Tell Shannon that he’d been stalking her, because that’s what it was. Maurice sighed in Shar’s voice. Damn Falkner, anyway. And damn Shannon for being so smart as well as pretty and funny and kind and”¦ Shar found herself crying and hated herself for her weakness. Falkner was right, Shannon was close. It didn’t take a genius to tell she was suspicious about something. Too many of Maurice’s habits were part of Shar and Shar had begun to rub off on Maurice. He laughed. He’d tell Shannon all right, the only way he could. If those boots didn’t make it crystal clear that at the very least he and Shar had some kind of connection, then Shannon was nowhere near the truth anyway.
Maurice always felt a lot looser just after shedding Shar. It was natural, after all, since the removal of the skin meant getting rid of a heavy and constricting garment that covered his entire body. There was just enough time to clean Shar’s insides with the special tools that had come with her, put her away and put his closet back to ‘manly mode’ before running back to the mall to pick up the boots and a locket with the Gemini symbol on it and a picture of Shannon inside. Since neither Shar nor Shannon were born under that sign, it would send an even clearer message than the boots. Two people in one. Maurice yawned. Two people in one was a tiring reality and an expensive one. He hoped Shannon would appreciate how much he’d gone to in order to be the best boyfriend possible. He hoped he wasn’t deluding himself, either. He’d felt that self-doubt often enough. The possibility that what he was doing was more selfishly meant to keep him closer to Shannon and push everyone else further away. He always tried to balance his approach, never letting Shar push Shannon into anything that would benefit Maurice, but he had to admit he’d done so often enough. He just hoped the actions were as in line with being a good friend as he’d thought at the time. Two people in one was an ethically tricky one as well.

Maurice, wearing his usual pressed suit, pulled out Shannon’s chair. “Are those new shoes?” He asked as he took his own seat across the candle lit table.

“You know they are.” Shannon smiled. “You’re probably the only seventeen year old boy in the county who always notices when his girlfriend’s bought new shoes.”

“What can I say?” Maurice replied. “You’re so beautiful that every minute change is worth taking note of. I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

“Do you?” She asked, putting one hand to her head. “I wasn’t quite sure when I told the others about it, but Shar was adamant that it would go over well.”

“She was right. You look amazing. You always look amazing.”

Shannon smiled and sipped from her water glass. “All right, enough of that. I look good, you look good.” She paused. “Though you are still wearing exactly what you always wear to these dinner dates. In fact - yes, I’m positive you were wearing that last year!”

“Good dress sense never goes out of style?” Maurice argued weakly.

“True, but variety is also to be desired. If you’re going to go around noticing what I do with myself, you ought to do the same for your own appearance. You’re coming shopping with me soon, and you’re going to like it.”

“You know what, Shannon?” Maurice said. “If I go shopping with you, I might just like it.”

“You know what, Maurice,” Shannon echoed, “Coming from you, I believe that.”

Maurice ordered steak and Shannon ordered salmon. The rest of the dinner went as most of their dates, laughing and talking until dessert was finished and they were waiting for the check. Maurice pushed the box he’d hidden under the table out and handed it to Shannon. “I hope you like it.”

“I always do.” Shannon said, unwrapping the parcel. “Oh my god”¦” She whispered. “Black suede thigh-high boots, and in my size, how the hell did you know?!” Her voice rose in both volume and speed until she almost launched herself out of her chair and put her arms around Maurice’s neck.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, kissing her.

“Like it?” Shannon laughed and choked. “It’s exactly “¦ what I “¦ wanted.” She trailed off. “OK, seriously, how?”

“It just looked like your style. And it would look good on you.”

“Maurice, I’m pretty sure almost every man in the history of the world who’s tried that before you has gotten a slap in the face and no girlfriend the next day.” Shannon returned to her seat. “You had inside information. In fact-” she grinned. “I think I know who told you, and I only have one thing to say.”

“What?” Maurice asked, trying to keep the hesitant dread out of his voice.

“I really hope Shar shows up to my birthday tomorrow and I really,” she extended the word for two seconds while grinning, “hope she gives me something nice. Something that shows her real feelings for me. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Well, Shar’s your best friend,” Maurice replied with a similarly sly smile. “I’m sure she knows exactly what you want and feels quite close to you in many ways.”

“I’m glad we understand one another.” Shannon said. “And I’m glad the others are paying for the party tomorrow and she’s just a guest. A free dinner tomorrow will pay her back quite fairly for “¦ other things she’s done for me.”

“Quite equitable.”

Maurice put the money in the check envelope and stood. When he’d helped Shannon out of her seat, she put her arms around him and kissed him deeply. “Just fixing what it feels like in my mind,” she said by way of explanation. “I think you’ll understand soon enough.”

Shar checked herself out in the mirror one more time before leaving for the party. Shannon’s sense was right on in every detail. She loved giving Shar new looks and had spent hours making sure that her best friend would only be upstaged by Shannon herself. Shar’s hair was up and curled slightly so that if fell in loose rings out of the combs holding it up and down her back. Shannon had made triple sure Shar knew what makeup to use where and how much. She’d been adamant that Shar’s cheekbones and eyes were her best features and ought to be brought out as much as possible. Then there was the dress. Playing off of her ‘nationality,’ Shar wore an aubergine strapless sheath dress whose silk shone best in the dim light that Shannon’s party would be in. They were, in fact, holding it at the same restaurant Maurice had taken Shannon the night before. When Shannon had mentioned it to Maurice, he’d asked if that was all right and she’d told him that she loved the atmosphere enough to go there twice in a weekend and that she’d kill him if he changed plans. The outfit was completed by a new purse and pumps that matched in a slightly lighter plum. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to let Shannon down on her big night - and Shar’s if things went as expected, Shar checked the hall for Maurice’s parents and made a hasty exit.

Shar was last to arrive as usual, but Shannon forgave her. “You were obviously following my instructions to the letter. You look adorable.”

“And you look stunning,” Shar said, returning the complement. “I’ll never get as good as you.”

“All right, that’s enough.” Brit said. “You look good, I look good. Let’s just sit down and get on with it. We’ve waited enough for you two as it is.”

Shar and Shannon sat down with the others and Shar was caught up with the week’s activities. “It must be a real drag going to that girls’ school,” Tracy said. “I don’t know how I’d manage.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Francine said sulkily. “At least she doesn’t have to worry about boys dumping her every other week.”

“Robby again?” Brit said. “You really need to get over him.” She laughed. “I can talk. I’m dating that idiot Kirk.”

“That’s nothing,” Lily replied. “Jimmy tried to pass off McDonalds as a third date. I know he’s broke right now, but if he’s too proud to let me pick up some of the check, then he ought not to try to take me out at all.”

“You think you have problems?” Lara asked. “Joel forgot my birthday. He said it was because I never told him, but I’m sure it’s because he got drunk and forgot.”

“Steak, please.” Shar said to the waiter.

“Steak?” Brit said. “How can you eat that?”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” Shar replied.

“In more ways than one. You can eat what you want and rely on Shannon here for advice because you don’t have to worry about boys until college. Lucky girl.” She looked at Shannon. “Well, aren’t you going to complain about Maurice?”

“The worst I can say is that he’s a little shifty,” Shannon said, looking hard at Shar. “But then again it’s only so he can be even sweeter. He’s a slippery little weasel sometimes but damned if he doesn’t manage to sweep me off my feet.”

Shar was going to say something, but thought better of it. Tracy filled the silence. “Here’s to the only jock with half a brain, then,” she said, holding up her glass. “Too bad we didn’t get to him first.”

“To dating geeks!” Shannon replied, holding up her own glass.

“I can drink to that.” Lily said.

“Amen,” Brit added.

The restrictive BAS kept Shar from being able to finish her meal and she was not disappointed when the others only ordered coffee for dinner. When the subject had left gossip and guys, things ran mostly as they did with his male friends. Current events, difficulties with homework and complaints about parents being the majority. Shar rarely brought up her own parents, and the others tended to fill in the gaps so all she had to do was smile and nod when they made one assumption or another about the restrictions of her home. She had long since given up on trying to get them to understand the difference between a Pakistani and Indian household, or that not every Arabic person was from the thousand and one nights. She had to be honest, she wasn’t very good at keeping all those things straight herself and it was a relief to let racial stereotypes pass with outward good humor.

The time again came for Shannon to receive gifts and Shar was careful to wait until the end for hers. When Brit noticed that Shar’s was the only one left, she pulled it out of Shar’s hands and gave it to Shannon. “I assume you meant this to save the best for last.” Brit said.

“I hope so,” Shar replied, looking at Shannon with hope edged with fear.

Shannon opened the box and drew out the locket by its chain. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Gemini.” She made no further comment about that.

“Well, put it on.” Tracy said.

“Shar? Could you help me with this.” Shannon said, getting up. “We’ll be right back.”

Shar followed Shannon into the bathroom and Shannon swept her hair away from the back of her neck as she turned. “If you could, please.” After Shar spent a minute trying to work the clasp, Shannon took it away from her gently and put the pendant on with no apparent difficulty. “Something you learn growing up. Something even you should have learned.” Shannon grinned at Shar. “You know, if I’m wrong, this is going to be murder to explain.”

“Wha-” Shar’s question was obliterated by the kiss. Surprise was swiftly overshadowed by desire and Shar put her arms around Shannon as she returned the kiss.

When Shannon pulled back, she was grinning more widely. “You cheeky pig, coming into the girls’ bathroom. And don’t try the innocent flower of the desert routine. I know how my own boyfriend kisses me. Oh, and you know that I’ve known since yesterday and suspected for awhile before. Hence this -“ she fingered the locket, “lovely and rather ham fisted message.” She put her finger on Shar’s lips and began to laugh. “You weird, obsessive, stalker. You total jerk. If this weren’t so funny, I’d probably walk out on you right now. I’d tell everyone about this except they wouldn’t believe me. The bizarre, totally and completely twisted thing is that I think it’s actually sweet. I’ve enjoyed having the same person as my sensitive, caring, athletic if a bit thin boyfriend and my irreverent, slightly old fashioned and exotic best friend. The odds are like one in a billion.”

“There are over twelve billion people, about six billion of them male. It had to happen eventually,” Shar said.

“Typical for both of you!” Shannon replied. “Quoting math at a time like this.” She pulled Shar in again for a kiss. “It’s amazing. I’m actually hot for a girl. I mean, you’re a guy, but apart from how you kiss, I’d never know it.” She paused. “I’ve seen you in a bikini for chrissakes! How do you hide it? No, wait, I don’t think I want to know. Not yet. Are your parents home?” Shar shook her head mutely and Shannon continued. “Good. I want to see this first hand. You are going to do something totally immodest for me, oh pearl of the Sahara. You are going to strip to the skin and then,” she put her hand on Shar’s side and began to move it up and down, “you are going to strip some more.”

The romantic, criminal and other adventures of Ned, Reg and Kelly.

Equine Audition

By Paul Calhoun

The centaur concept is one I've been bouncing around in my head for longer than the unicorn story. It's one of the oldest ideas I've had that hasn't already been written out. It started with just a guy who buys a centaur costume with a mechanical back end for a party and finds a very realistic female top to go with it. I added bottoms later and planned on there being some seduction. Then I had the idea of the centaur being a guy in a girl costume with a machine back claiming to be TWO girls in a suit and that the rear girl was shy and getting people to interact with the shy girl while the front one had sexy times eventually leading up to tricking people into taking the shy girl's place because she'd 'gotten embarrassed.' All of this is still possible with the current ensemble, but I wanted something more. And so came the story that went about 10,000 words over what I'd planned.

Actual synopsis: An actor is invited to a costume party to audition for a prestigious theater and ends up going as a cute centaur dryad.

William buried his fingers in his brown hair and thought again about how strange life was. The theater troupe he’d been auditioning for had sent their top ten choices a card the week before inviting them to a costume party they were throwing to celebrate the end of the season. Their intent was clear: the best performers would not necessarily have the most elaborate outfits, but they would be creative and have character. The troupe prided itself on not only being great performers, but also for writing and directing their own work. Most of the members performed in at least six of their own works over their careers. It was a dream for William, but a daunting task to impress them.

The theater they’d founded had brought in economic development and a cottage industry in thespian goods had sprung up in the vicinity. One of the costume suppliers was well known for having an inventory of higher quality, more interesting items bought over time. Sometimes it would be a wealthy socialite with a full closet or a professional in need of some quick money. She’d even somehow netted examples of Takagi, ChinChilla, VeraTech and Falkner technologies as well as retired Soviet spy gear without going broke buying them. Whatever the source, Gina was always ready to haggle both directions and had a soft spot for wannabes who weren’t luvvie, diva or stupid. William would never be able to afford to buy one of her acquisitions outright, but he was sure he’d be able to talk her into a reasonable rate for a week’s rental. He’d spent months already in town renting a small flat while he made his overtures to the troupe and had gotten to know the proprietor, a red haired thespian who was too old to be bubbly and too young to be jolly. What she was, was loud and her voice boomed through the store the moment she caught sight of him. “Willie, my boy!” She called with a faint Scottish brogue. She shook him warmly by the hand. “Fast off the mark, that’s the lad. Every time there’s an opening, they invite all the little declaimers to their yearly do and most of them realize it’s old Gina who’ll give ‘em a good start. You must have come running the moment you saw the letter, my boy. Good on you!” She had produced a measuring tape by then and was sizing William up.

“And good morning to you, Gina.” William said, letting the warmth flow over him. “If you’re so wise and all knowing, then you’ll have picked something out, figured out what I can afford and wrapped it all up so you can press it into my arms, take my money and turn my ears red with all the things you’ll do to me if I don’t bring it back cleaner than I got it.”

“Oh, aye, you’ll be hanging by your little toes from my marquee if you don’t treat my babies right.” Gina agreed. “As to having picked one out already, I wouldn’t do that to you. Choosing the right thing is half the fun and as you’re the first one in, you’ll have to tell me what the year’s theme is.”

William took the oft-folded page out of his pocket. “It says fantasy.”

“Whose fantasy?” Gina took the invitation. “Nay, you mean classical fantasy. Western mythology, boy. Warriors, wizards, dryads, nymphs.” She winked. “Would you like to be a nymph? Lots of work, but it’ll impress them if you pull it off.” She laughed at her own double entendre. “Or perhaps you’d like to be a warrior, get the nymph and never mind the job.” Her eyes danced. “Come on, then. I haven’t got all day. The next one’s liable to come in before you’re done and snatch away the very item you have your eye on.”

She took William’s elbow and pulled him into her gallery. The space in the front of the store was where the everyday costumes — superb but not unique - were kept. The gallery was for the acquisitions and each item had its own place with a stand, a description and a story. William tried not to stare at the rows of mostly humanoid figures on either side. Most would not have fit the theme, though he wished they were. A futuristic cybernetic warrior outfit had him slowing down before Gina pulled him further in. How he wanted to go in as a machine man and act the part of an iron warrior.

“How about this, then?” She asked, gesturing at a mannequin wearing what looked like dragon-shaped leather plate. “A dragon human hybrid. Very popular as the real reason dragons were always stealing virgins. I got that from a furry who said he wanted something softer and more cartoony. I snapped it up fast, I can tell you. Look at this quality. The suppleness of the scale — each one handcrafted from faux leather - and these red lights that make it look as if the dragon is about to flame. The tail is even poseable. Very flexible in terms of backstory.”

“I don’t think so,” William said. “The claws on the hands and feet could get in the way. I’m also not really a reptile person.”

“Right, right.”

They passed what looked like a blonde woman built like an amazon and wearing leather armor that wasn’t much more that an X over her chest, a leather bikini bottom, boots and a sword. William slowed to look and Gina said. “That one came from a manufacturer that thought that they could mass-produce high quality costumes. I think they’d reverse engineered some Takagi. There was no market, so they were all limited runs and the company went out of business after a short time of trying to sell identical costumes to people who could afford custom built. Though of course, you’re likely ogling rather than interested. Go on and feel her if you want. She’s very well made.” Gina reached back and demonstrated that the female in the armor was as much part of the costume as the armor itself, then demonstrated some of the costume’s ‘realism’ by giving it a judicious jiggle. “She might fit you,” Gina said, eyeing William speculatively. “I scored three or four of these, so you might end up having to improvise when your twin and triplet come to the party. The price is lower, naturally, but it could get awkward.”

“No thanks,” William said. “If it’s all the same, I think I’ll skip that. Bad enough if I botch being a transvestite, but imagine by embarrassment if I do so and someone in exactly the same drag pulls it off!” He shuddered. “No, I’ll stick to less risky gambits. I’m not interested in getting into a catfight with another hopeful over who is the better warrior queen.”

“Very wise.” Gina said with absolute gravity as she re-dressed the skinsuit.

They moved through the gallery, William dwelling on an ensemble based on Hephaestus that had been made by a member of the Sick Pups and then sold for charity before finally reaching Gina’s hands. After a long discussion, he decided he didn’t want to have to manufacture a limp the whole evening or have to explain that he was not a dwarf.

“This one looks interesting.” He said, pausing in front of a centaur. The plastic mannequin stood six inches above them on the stilts in the forehooves. The horse body was detailed in a smoky perlino color with striking bright green highlights.

“Another one from the mass production debacle.” Gina said. “A relaunch where they lowered the quality but added a lot of options to the kit. I’m dead sure there’s VeraTech mixed in and maybe a touch of Falkner. They were terrible at original research and marketing, but their manufacture and creativity of application were superb.” She picked up something that looked more like a refrigerator box. “They made this into a sort of a mix-and-match concept where they made a few different colored horse sections and then a trunk full of extras to make it your own style.” She patted the horse flank. “I only ever got one of these when they had their clearance. The rest were mostly snapped up by theme parks and faires. I was lucky, really. This was their ‘fairy’ version. A sort of dryad centaur mix. Very druidic. Very mythic.”

“What kind of mixed parts?” William asked.

“This and that,” Gina replied. “It’s very versatile. The perfect item for someone wanting to put their own spin on a costume. I take it that you’re interested?”

“I am.” William said. “How much?”

“Well, let’s see now.” William sighed inwardly. That was Gina’s ‘Rancid Crabtree’ voice. It meant she was thinking about her margins. “The soirree is next week and you’ll want this now so you can get in a bit of practice. Going about with four legs isn’t as easy as with two. Yeeerrrsh.”

“Speaking of which, how can one person wear this?” William asked. “This doesn’t seem like the sort of party I would invite a date to, or the kind of costume I’d stick one in.”

“Oh, that’s simple.” Gina replied airily. “I told you it was high class even if it wasn’t the best they ever put out. There’s a very advanced mechanism in the back legs. Like I said, stolen straight from the VeraTech toybox. Removeable, of course. It has a bit that wraps around each thigh and tracks your movements. It’s really quite a clever piece of work, software and hardware. It’ll make some impressively natural motions as you walk and even if you just fidget a little, the back end will move like the rear of a horse would when it’s shifting its balance or feeling restless. As for the amount, I think four hundred would be around the right price.”

William sucked air through his teeth. “I think I’m going to have to hunker with you a spell on that one.”

Gina immediately fell down into the hunker, one arm resting on her knee and the other out with her pen in her hand, acting as the stick. William joined her and soon the negotiation was in full swing. When William left with the two enormous boxes, he had the price down to two-fifty, but was going, “Ooh-ahh!” With every step.

Back at his flat, William was too excited by his new purchase to wait to try it. He set aside the box of extra parts, focusing first on the horse body before he thought about how he’d change the basic idea into something that would fit his strengths. He laid it out on its side and first examined the horse body with eyes and hands. He didn’t know what a horse ought to look or feel like up close since he hadn’t had riding lessons since he was a child. It seemed real enough to his untrained senses, though with a little bit of work he could feel the track that ran around half the body near the back where it could be unzipped for the machine part to be removed and a person to enter. There didn’t seem to be anything similar in front; just a hole where a person would slip in and become the human part of the centaur. Feeling a little perverted, he looked closely at the horse’s rear, but though the rump was detailed as far as buttocks, there was nothing between the legs. He felt a little relieved at that. He didn’t want the novelty of a completely anatomically correct equine costume to take attention away from his performance.

He splayed out the legs and stepped into the opening. His first attempt to get his legs down into the hooves resulted in him throwing his pants into the corner and his second led him to put a pair of the tights he’d picked up during a play he no longer remembered. With a layer that wouldn’t catch insulating him from the scratchy interior of the costume, he finally strapped his feet onto the sharply sloped tops of the stilts in the foreleg and hiked the forelegs up and the front part of the horse up just over his hips. He fished around until he found a strap which tightened around his waist to hold the heavy horse costume up and a semi sheer, fuzzy ring of fabric which went over his bellybutton and up to the base of his ribs that started out thick and opaque and became almost completely transparent at the top, making the horse part of the centaur’s body transition smoothly to the human. In the process, he’d gotten the forelegs under him so that the front half of the centaur was standing on its hooves, though the rear still appeared to be sitting down.

Realizing his oversight, William unrolled the midriff and loosened the belt. He almost fell several times as he twisted around and fished in the vicinity of his rear until he found the straps connected to the mechanism in the back end and wrapped them around his thighs. He hiked the costume back up and walked in place for a few seconds. The rear end didn’t stir and, annoyed, William picked up his left leg, shook it until he’d gotten it to bend at the joint in the knee until he could fold it over and — holding on to the wall — did the same with the right so that he could slip out of the foot straps and extricate himself. He flipped the costume over and unzipped the belly so he could get a better look at the robotic back half. There was a folder with an instruction booklet inside and a broad, flat remote control. William flipped through the manual, sighed and after a few seconds of looking for it found an opening he’d missed between the buttocks. The machine had a retractable plug which the literature claimed would charge the battery inside for six hours of careful use or three of continuous movement. William didn’t want any more interruptions, so he left it to charge overnight and went to bed with the booklet and the remote so he’d be ready the next morning to give it a proper test.

After breakfast, William was back in the centaur costume, sure that this time he had thought of everything. He pressed the red power button on the remote and almost lost his balance when the back end of the horse clattered to its feet in an eerily lifelike way. He’d gone through the labeled presets on the remote and had settled on starting with the one he’d most likely be using. ‘Automatic heuristic — Detects motion from wearer and alters stance, gait and idle to best fit predicted intent.’ He tapped that and slid the remote into the sleeve on the side of the costume near his left leg. In theory he could change settings by pressing the buttons through the costume, but he didn’t know the remote that well.

He stepped in place, watching closely in the mirror as the forelegs bent at the knee where his feet were held in the sloping slipper and the back legs made similar movements. It looked as if he was prancing in place, either nervous or energetic. His first steps forward were hesitant and he was surprised at how the back half mimicked the walk of a skittish horse. He’d never had to walk on stilts before and the difficulty was increased by the costume having slim, equine forelegs at the cost of a sharply sloping platform for his feet. It gave him a new perspective and while he was up there, he changed a light bulb he’d been meaning to get to, which gave him time to get used to standing still. One of the features that he spent the longest time getting used to was the fact that since horses start walking with their hind legs first, the machine would often take a step while he was still preparing to do so, propelling him forward. Luckily, this meant that he could stop easily since they also ended on front legs.

As he grew in confidence, the back half’s gait also smoothed. His flat was small and he soon found himself in need of more space in which to practice. Luckily it was midmorning so most of the tenants would be at work and there was a walled yard behind the building where children would go out to play in the afternoon. It was empty at that time of day, perfect for seeing how well the machine — and the man — could adapt to softer ground or higher speeds. He had to bend low at the doors and when he reached the back stairs, the rear end followed him in a few sideways hops as he got his nerve up. His stomach jumped with each step down and the machine had far less difficulty than he did. The sunlight struck green waves along the ash body and honey tail, the padding inside shifting with each step, not quite rippling like skin over muscle but a good approximation.

Once back on flat ground, William started to increase speed. He’d watched a few videos the evening before and could feel when the back end decided his jog was quick enough and smoothly inverted its leg order into a trot. The skip-like canter and gallop didn’t go quite as well, though he suspected his own inexperience was as much to blame. He knew he’d be spending most of the week working on that and more. There were occasions where he felt like he’d gotten it and the back end had given him such a powerful push that he was sailing through the air. Most of the time, though, he couldn’t get more than a trot out of the machine, which was proving to be quite the perfectionist about its human partner’s gait. Once the initial balance difficulties had been overcome, William had begun to trust that his hooves would move as he wanted them to even if he ran, skipped, jumped or hopped. The joints seemed to always orient so that when the leg came down, the hoof would plant squarely on ground and give him the support he needed.

He’d gotten so comfortable that he continued to walk as he pulled the remote out again to try some other settings. ‘Flirtatious’ had jumped out at him and he giggled when he pressed it and the rear end started to sway back and forth in a salacious impression of a woman wiggling her hips, made all the more inviting by a sassy swish of the tail. He’d already found that the machine had some kind of control over that appendage as it tended to swish impatiently when he pranced in place.

‘Pantomime’ was even funnier, a setting which caused the back half to make a series of mistakes that made it look like an inexperienced partner in a double act. ‘Mirror’ meant that the back legs did exactly what William did in front, which almost tripped him after being used to the organic motions of the ‘automatic’ setting. ‘Dresage’ was an education as William tried to keep up with the showy performance going on behind him. When ‘Steeple Chase’ almost launched him into the air, he decided to skip ‘Bronco’ and go inside. He didn’t want to have to tell an EMT how his costume had reared up and thrown him out of it, though it made him wonder how he could rear and paw in ‘automatic’ mode. If the party had a high ceiling, it would make a good entrance.

Going up the back stairs was easier than descending and soon William was back in his flat, massaging his spine. The costume had proven to be easier to wear than he’d anticipated, but it demanded a posture he was unused to and bounced him around as if he were riding an actual horse. His back wasn’t the only part of him protesting; his feet hurt, his ankles ached from taking part of the burden of supporting his heels-up position and his legs hurt from the different way he had to walk. A week suddenly didn’t feel like long enough to get used to it, but he consoled himself with the resolution to wear the centaur costume as much as possible. He made good on that immediately by clopping through his kitchen to make lunch without taking it off and then sinking to the costume’s knees and settling back in a semi-relaxed crouch in front of the television.

Two days later he was trotting — and cantering when he could get the leg movements down right — around the yard when he saw Jackie sitting on the stoop. They’d said a few words to each other in the hallway and all he knew about her was that she lived alone and worked in a finance office twenty minutes down the highway. She’d said she preferred the offbeat theater town to closer, suburban living. “Hey,” she said when he stopped in front of her. “I hope you don’t mind me watching. I saw you out here yesterday but I only got up the nerve to come down for a closer look now.”

“I don’t mind at all.” William said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“That’s a really neat costume,” she continued. “You two really work well together.”

William laughed. “Thanks. It’s actually a robot,” he patted his horse flank. “Amazing what technology can do.”

Jackie nodded. “I wondered since I never saw anyone going into your flat.” She laughed self-consciously. “Do I sound like a stalker? I’m sorry.”

“No.” William said. “I’d be curious too. Uh…”

“Yeah,” Jackie replied.

“The machine can be removed, though.” He said. “So another person can take its place.”

“Neat.” Jackie rubbed her arm. “Listen,” she blurted. “Could I ride you?” She flushed. “I mean on the costume’s back. Not ride you like, oh!” She turned redder.

“I don’t know how strong the robot is.” William said. “Why don’t you come up to my flat and we can look at the brochure I got with it? If it says it can take riders, I’d be happy to give you a few turns ‘round the yard.”

“That’d be great!” Jackie said. “I must sound like a total ditz, though.”

“Really, it’s fine.” William laughed. “To be honest, I was wondering if I ought to offer to let you try taking the robot’s place.”

“Hey, take a girl out for dinner before you ask her to be your back end.” Jackie laughed back. “I’m glad I’m not the only one having ideas.” She admitted as she followed William down the hall.

“This may be the most original way a young lady has ever been enticed into a man’s home.” Jackie said as he unlocked his door. “By the way, your tail is a mess of tangles.” She opened her purse and took out a brush. “Do you mind?”

“No.” William said. When he had the manual, he tried to stand as still as he could so she could brush his tail.

“I hope you don’t think this is too odd.” Jackie said, moving in broad strokes. “I can’t stand messy hair.” She pet the horse’s side. “You ought to get some proper horse brushes if you intend to show this anywhere.”

“It’s a little weird,” William admitted. “I’m not really used to being … uh … paid attention to like this.”

“You mean like my little horsey pet?” Jackie giggled. “I’m sorry to be so forward, but how often will something like this happen? Does this costume belong to you?”

“No, I’m renting it.” William replied.

“See? Limited chance.”

When they were satisfied that the machine could take it, she led him back out and climbed up on the broad stone railing on one side of the stoop while he stood next to it on the ground. The machine bent its legs a moment — as did William — when she swung her leg over him. She clambered forward so that when William began to walk, she could steady herself by wrapping her arms around him. Putting her chin on his shoulder she said, “Now you didn’t expect to have a young lady in such a familiar position this morning, did you?”

“Not at all,” William said, going into a trot.

“This is fun,” Jackie whooped. “I’m a little concerned that you’re only speeding up so I hold tighter.”

“Is it working?”

Jackie kicked the costume’s belly gently. “Faster! Hyah!”

“I got this for a party.” William said, slowing down so he could converse more easily.

“I know. You told me you want to be a member of the Aethers. I’ve lived here long enough to have heard about their audition parties.”

“If you want to come, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

She patted his shoulder. “I’m touched that you’d be nice enough to invite me, but I know that’s not something you bring a date to. Not if you want to win. I’d just get in the way of your performance, even if I was just a rider.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll wait up that night and you can come to my place for coffee to tell me how it went.”

“I’d love that.” William said. “I didn’t expect this thing to be such an icebreaker.”

Jackie laughed. “I told you I liked offbeat. Not that I didn’t think you were cute before. It’s a little unfair,” she admonished. “I always liked horses and here you are playing on my girlhood desire for a talking pony. Oh, and remember to get those brushes. You don’t want the Aethers to think you’re neglecting your hygiene and it’ll make you all shiny for them.”

That night, William lay awake thinking about Jackie. It was a little weird for her to be so aggressive, but it was also weird for a neighbor to be running around in an animatronic centaur costume. His anxiety over whether she was interested in him or in riding him as a centaur while she had the opportunity carried him to sleep. The next morning as he was climbing in, he realized she’d invited him to her flat after the party and called him cute, so her eagerness to ride him had probably just sped up a natural progression. Sure it was normal to meet once or twice in the laundry room, invite each other to home cooked dinners and bump into each other in the hallway as a lead up to romance, but he was an actor. He wasn’t normal.

He felt like he’d gotten used to the costume, so after a quick trot out to tell Jackie he’d be spending the day in — and assuring her he’d be back the next couple of days — he put the other large box on the table and opened it up. The item on top looked useful, a long necked horse head that would go over his body and turn the centaur into a regular horse. By the look of it, he guessed that he’d have to lean forward quite a bit to make the resulting horse appear close to normal. Curious, he lifted it and let it fall over his body, finding a pair of straps he could put his arms through inside. The front of the neck was mesh and the mouth was slightly open. When he pulled on one strap, the mouth closed. He went to look in the mirror and spent half an hour figuring out how to bend forward far enough to maintain the illusion without falling out of the costume.

Returning the horse head to the table, he took the next piece out, a blonde wig with green highlights that matched the coloration of the rest of the horse. It was shoulder length with a crown of leaves. That might come in handy, thought, as would the beard underneath which had the same coloration and the pointed, pixie ears. A few bows, leather ties and a saddle followed, along with a curry comb and a dandy brush. Then came what looked like the top half of a man.

The mask had a beard and hair like the wig that William had taken out and the body was proportioned like a classical god with a broad chest and shoulders, muscular arms and a wide, serious face. William shrugged and tried to put it on, finding that the padding inside chafed and there was a very restrictive inner lining around the chest that didn’t seem to make sense. His arms barely fit inside the body’s and it took him ages to get the face on right. When he looked at his reflection, he decided against using it. He’d do better with just the beard and wig. The top body was too restrictive of his movements and he didn’t really like the face. Besides, the skin was a little too smooth and shiny as well as feeling a touch silkier than it ought to. He preferred to be a youthful centaur with a believably human physique to a classically built one. It took longer to remove and he was breathing hard when he set it aside and looked at the next. It seemed to be a companion piece to the previous, a set of legs and feet with realistic genitalia hanging between. The inside of the penis had a dildo sticking out and William realized that what he’d felt on the chest of the torso was a breast band, meant for a woman to pass as a man. He supposed the lower half was in case she wanted a partner and desired to maintain the illusion inside and out.

He wasn’t too surprised when he lifted out a short, textured wig swept back at the sides with a silver circlet, a more slender pair of ears and a crystal pendant on a silver chain. Nor was he shocked by the appearance of a female torso and mask with attached ears and wig like the ones he’d taken out and an oval face with a small upturned nose, soft cheekbones, almond eyes and small lips. What he was surprised by was the weight caused by fact that despite being a pixie, faerie type in every other way, this girl had serious knockers. They seemed a little out of place on the slender, willowy woman skin he held in his hand. Playing to desires, he thought. The silicone filled chest bespoke the expectation that this would be worn by a man, who might want to be a nature spirit but still expected a rack. Or maybe he was overreacting, William thought as he laid the skin down. They weren’t truly out of proportion, he thought, and maybe he’d been taken by surprise by their heft and immediately assumed they were oversize because of it. In fact, he thought, trying not to think that he was staring at the breasts too much, they weren’t more than a little bigger than they ought to be and if it was really meant to be a sex pot, the mask would have been made to look like a porn star rather than a new age dryad. Maybe boobs really were that heavy. There was really no polite way he could think of to find out.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like these breasts were getting much support. Unlike the male torso, the female did some with a top, but it just a band of some soft green material with a leaf pattern worked in that just covered her up from the bottom of the swell of her bosom to just above the nipple, producing as much cleavage as could be arranged without risking a charge of indecent exposure. Beneath that was the bottom half which a closer look was intended to be filled by a male physique. Again it was all just a little too uniform in color and not quite the right texture. He had to be fair, though, he thought, and try it on. He’d tried the male upper and so it was only right to explore all options. The erection that was pressing into the padding of the centaur costume had nothing to do with his half hour struggle to wiggle, push, roll and squeeze himself into the feminine mask, chest and belly. The mirror soon showed William a female centaur / dryad mixture whose hand was pressed against her heaving chest as she recovered from the long, hard labor of squeezing into a skin that was two sizes too small. It was worth it, though, he thought. The upper half had compressed him nicely, giving him a nipped waist and slender arms. The mask took a few extra minutes to adjust but when that was done, its expressions mirrored his just as well as the male’s had if not better. The nose had grown a little since there was only so much the mask could do about that, but it didn’t dominate her face, making it seem more mature. He tied the top around his chest and dropped the pendant down into the waiting space between his breasts.

The longer he stared at the result, the more he warmed to the idea. It seemed silly, but if he could make it work, coming as a faerie centaur woman would be an act with a great deal more flare and technical difficulty. Being a straight centaur felt too easy and relied too much on the machine. He’d rather they pay attention to an eighty percent good drag act than a one hundred percent good centaur that drew half its effectiveness from an autonomous prop. He knew he was talking himself into it and didn’t care. This would be fun and the Aethers were always saying it was important to have fun on stage and not take things too seriously. The dryad smiled and said to herself in a masculine squeak, “I’m going to need some really bright green contacts to set off these highlights.” She grimaced. “And a much better voice.” He said, dropping the act.

She crossed her arms, thinking hard. Going to get the contacts meant taking the costume off. William didn’t want to reveal anything before he had to and going out in the centaur costume would attract too much attention no matter how he wore it. He also needed to practice not only feminine behavior and voice but also how to walk in the centaur costume with the changes the torso made to her body shape and center of gravity. She paced up and down the small apartment. She could go out and run around a bit before shedding all the costume items and going for the contacts, but Jackie would be certain to see and ask questions. Or worse, see and simply jump to a conclusion. It would have made a nice joke, but William didn’t know Jackie well enough to feel comfortable pulling something like that on her and besides, she might be able to help. Resolute, he opened his door and before he reached hers, she’d heard the sound of hooves and opened her own. William wondered if she was on vacation or what, but was grateful for the help and for her friendship in the last couple of days.

“Oh,” she said, looking up at the dryad in the revealing costume. “I thought-“

“Correctly,” William said before she could feel any worse.

“William!” She choked. “That’s really good makeup.”

“Most of it isn’t. Hey, that reminds me.” He trotted back and upended the box. As he’d hoped, a pile of cosmetics fell on the table. “Would you mind coming in?” He heard Jackie locking her door and turned to see her closing his. “I wouldn’t mind a lesson or two on how to put this on either.”

“Start from the beginning.” Jackie said. “Why do you look like a wood nymph had a daughter with a centaur?”

William gave her a quick explanation about the mix and match box and its contents. She picked up the male torso, then saw the male bottom. She flushed. “Wow. A couple could have an interesting night with all this stuff and never mind the horse.” She held the horse neck and head piece and squealed, “This is adorable! Part of my price is that when this is all over, you are giving me my talking pony ride.” She coughed. “So, we’ve only just gotten to know each other and you want me to do the whole ‘be a man’ montage but in reverse and in four days.”

“Now that you say it, it does sound silly.”

“It’s a challenge!” Jackie said, grinning. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right, though. We’ll start with the basics and that means you hopping out of that, putting these on,” she lifted the female bottoms, “and getting to know femininity from a bipedal perspective before you do it as a centaur. It will help with the attitude at the party and besides, I can’t help you with makeup if I have to stand on a chair to reach your face.”

William obeyed silently, unstrapping himself from the centaur costume, turning it off and plugging it in. Jackie handed him the female bottoms. “OK. You put these on while I go and see if I have anything that will fit you. I may have to duck out later to get something better but I want you to learn a few things first so that you can practice while I’m out and not lose any time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” William said.

Jackie snorted. “You asked for help, bucko, and you’re getting it. I don’t do anything if I can’t do it right, so get a move on!” She clapped her hands.

By the time William had squeezed his legs into the bottoms and figured out where everything went, Jackie was back with a pile of clothes. “No, I don’t need to see just how anatomically correct you are,” she said as he opened his bathroom door. “Just put these on and then you can come out.” She handed a pair of panties and a bra around the door along with jeans and a loose sweater top. “I think the bottoms will fit you, the bra will probably need a lot of adjusting and will be too tight and the top’s the biggest I’ve got. You’re a bit of a big girl in a few parts, so it’s all going to be tight. I’ll have something better for you by tomorrow.” When he’d put the clothes on and come out, she nodded shortly. “Good. It’ll do.” She reached under the sweater and hiked it up. “Sorry. You wouldn’t know how to adjust one of these.” She moved them over to the mirror. “Watch. The straps aren’t too hard to figure, but you have to know what to look for and what kind of support you want. There. Like so.” She fingered a space around William’s middle where the bottoms on the costume didn’t quite meet the torso. “Is that as high as they’ll go?” She tugged and William yelped. “I guess so.” She pulled the sweater down. “Where to start, where to start. I’m guessing you’ve done voice training.”

William nodded.

“So you can practice that on your own. Given your profession, you ought to be a quick study of the rest. Let’s do makeup. There seems to be a copious amount included and it will give you something to experiment with while I’m down at the shops getting you clothes you’d be willing to be seen out in public in.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“I’m glad you’re not squeamish about going out in all this.”

“It would be a bit of a problem if I was.” William said. “I’m glad you’re suddenly taking charge. You seemed a bit shy yesterday.”

“You remember how I said a talking pony was one of my childhood desires? So was having a little sister to boss around.” Jackie laughed. “You’re so vulnerable that I feel like I can be the big sister I never got to be.” She touched William’s arm. “Now that I get a good look, this stuff isn’t exactly convincing close up, but for people in the street, you’ll pass as a bit of an odd lady.” She flicked the wig back over the ears. “Who’s had elective surgery.”

She sat him down and showed him how to apply all the items that had come with the costume including the green lipstick with green glitter, green eyeshadow, foundation, five colors of green on a palette, shiny green blush, eyeliner, mascara and body glitter. “Cripes,” she commented as she laid it all out, “I don’t think you’ll need all of this. Not unless you want to look like you have the taste of a teenager. I’ll let you experiment to see what kind of look you want, but if you take my advice you’ll keep it simple and classy. Very light on the liner, a tiny sprinkling of glitter and maybe a hint of color on the cheeks and forehead. Maybe red lipstick to create contrast. In fact,” she said, gathering it up, “I can’t let you have these in good conscience. I’m going to go buy some things that will go with your tone and the outfit and be back in a few. We’ll start with the basics and you can go wild with the faerie stuff when you’ve gotten good at that. Is there anything you want me to pick up?”

“Bright green contacts,” William said. “Oh, and this ought to cover everything.” He said, digging some notes out of his pants.

“I’ll pay half. I’m taking you on as a personal hobby,” she smiled. “Good idea, though. I’ll find a color that’ll pop, if you pardon the word.”

While Jackie was away, William shed the clothes she’d let him borrow and looked more closely at the faerie girl costume. The mask was the most detailed part and though he had detailed nipples, nails and looked reasonable between his legs, the costume was a flat color and had he seen someone else that looked like he did he’d think her a woman in very good doll makeup. He twisted in the mirror, noting that he was shapely enough that in the right outfit he’d at least be able to go outside without being too worried about second looks. He sat on the carpet, spread his legs and tried to slide his finger between the vaginal lips. He got as far as the first knuckle and struck his restrained penis. So he might be able to get as far as a strip tease, but sex would be out of the question. He wasn’t very disappointed. This was all for show anyway and he couldn’t think of a situation in which he’d be wearing the bottom half at the party nor why he’d want to have sex in the suit or even have someone looking at him naked below the waist.

He was dressed and practicing feminine motions and speaking when Jackie returned with both hands occupied with plastic bags. “How’s it going, sis?”

“Great!” William chirped.

“Good.” Jackie said, emptying the contents out. “Your voice is coming along better than I thought it would. Here.” She held out a box. “The contacts. It says to wash them first, so you’re stuck with those boring, beautiful brown ones you’ve got now. In the meantime,” she continued, setting out the items of makeup and clothing, “let’s see about making you look pretty.”

Jackie spent the afternoon teaching William about everyday makeup, how to use the costume makeup that had come with the centaur costume and how to wear the simple articles of clothing she’d gotten for him. He conversed with her in his ‘female’ voice, practicing it and getting suggestions from Jackie. By supper he was wearing a bra that fit, cotton panties, a sun dress and open toed high heeled shoes. After applying and removing his ‘normal girl’ makeup several times, Jackie told him he looked good and led him by the hand out into the hall. When they passed her apartment, William asked, “Where are we going?”

“I thought we both deserved supper out,” Jackie replied. “I’ll drive of course.”

“Do you think I’m ready?”

“Sure you are! If anyone asks, you’ve got a bit of a cold. As for the skin,” she fingered his unnaturally smooth arm. “I don’t think they’ll notice. You look pretty and you’ve got a nice figure.” She squeezed William’s arm. “The women will wonder how you got so smooth and the guys will be looking at the parts of you that are covered and wish they weren’t. Anyway, it’s just a diner. If we get into any trouble, it’s not like they’ll know who you are.” She saw William’s hesitation. “I’ll take care of everything. You need to work on your confidence if you’re going to impress the troupe, right?”

William nodded, belatedly pulling a lock of blonde and green hair back when it fell into his face. “Right.”

“Good. I can’t call you William, though, can I?”

“I hadn’t thought of a name.” William admitted.

“Even if you had, it would probably have been a character name. That’s fine for when you’re a centaur nymph but right now we need something that’ll work for everyday use. How about Nelly? Or maybe Ellie…”

“Nelly sounds nice.”

“So do you,” Jackie said unlocking her car. “I wouldn’t be going out like this if I didn’t think your voice was good.”

“Can I say that I feel weird that this is our first date?” Nelly asked, trying to find a comfortable way to latch the seatbelt.

Jackie laughed. “I honestly never thought it would be anything like this. And yes, that does mean I thought about it. You’re cute and you’re my neighbor and I think I’ve said all this already.”

William smiled and touched her shoulder. “It’s nice to know I wasn’t imagining it when I saw you looking at me. When all this is over, I’d love to go out on a date wearing my own face.”

“Can you do something for me on our third date?”

“What?”

“Wear flavored lip gloss. It won’t be very noticeable, but I’ve wondered for the longest time what it’s like to kiss someone wearing flavored lip gloss. I did when I was a teenager and I used to think about what my boyfriend back then experienced.”

“I doubt he was paying much attention to the flavor of your lip gloss.”

“You’re sweet, but he was shallow.”

“Fine,” William smiled widely. “I hope I can make you forget about the flavor of the lip gloss I’m wearing. In fact, I won’t tell you what flavor it is. We’ll see if you can tell me what it is after we’re done.”

“Challenge accepted.” Jackie said. “I hope I lose.”

Jackie held William’s hand as they went up the short stairway in front of the diner — he’d begun to wobble on the narrow heels. At first he’d looked down at the floor when the hostess was seating them, but a nudge under the table when they sat down got him to look her in the eye and say, “Thank you.”

“See? She didn’t even look at you oddly.” Jackie said.

“She didn’t have any reason to.”

“Exactly!” Jackie said. “Yes, there are peculiarities, but they aren’t noticeable unless someone is looking closely. Heck, she didn’t even notice the ears. I wouldn’t suggest a long conversation with anyone just yet, but you’re fine for just going out. You’ll never fool the troupe, but that’s not the point, is it?”

Nelly shook her head. “No, you’re right. I want them to know it’s me, and a performance is more about the performer than the prop.” She smoothed her skirt. “That’s why I went with the female angle.”

“Really?” Jackie asked.

Nelly nodded. “It seemed like I was relying on the centaur costume too much as a novelty. I wanted to prove that I could perform a wholly different part. Without this,” she brushed her face, “I’d be too much me in a centaur costume. This way I have to be in a character who can’t fall back on their normal self. That is, ‘normal self’ in this case is another performance. I drop my guard into another act.”

“Actors.” Jackie said. “Speaking of which, why’d you become one?”

Nelly started to lean forward, felt and saw that her neckline would be giving an indecent view to people passing, settled back in the booth and half-smiled as Jackie smothered a giggle. “I sort of grew into it,” she replied, brushing back her hair again with annoyance. “I loved playing dress-up when I was little, got into all the school plays and by the time I was in high school I was deep in the drama department. It seemed natural to just keep going. I was good and nothing else felt right for me. Maybe I would have been better at or enjoyed something else more, but since I love acting I don’t care.”

“That’s it?” Jackie asked.

“Would you prefer me to give the more traditional story?” Nelly asked. “How I was a little girl who saw Peter Pan one day and wanted to be Wendy? How my parents thought it was cute that I was in plays right up until I started dating a guy with more piercings than dollars and finally ran away with a beatnik rather than continue training to be an orthodontist. Or perhaps the story about the shy outcast who befriended a goth and was thrust into the wide world of alternative culture. Respectable during the day, but with a closet full of Lolita and Elvira dresses for when the sun goes down. Oh, I have a good one! The story about the cute girl whose parents refused to let her be in the pageant because it was against their beliefs, so she tried out to be a sheep and told them she was staying late to tutor younger students.” Nelly put her hand to her brow and mock-swooned. “Oh, it was dreadful, darling! I had to go through this ghastly English degree before taking an absolutely banal job as a receptionist. I worked for ever so long before saving up the money to come here. I know I’ll be good because Sir John Gielgud — he absolutely insists I call him Johnny — told me I had it.”

Jackie fought well, but the laughter came in gales when William switched from the feminine version of himself to the over-the-top Luvvie ‘Duchess’ voice. “You win!” She brushed the tears from her eyes. “I guess I am a bit used to actors giving long, dramatic stories about themselves. I’d gotten so used to it living near the theater that I was surprised you told the truth.”

“As far as you know,” Nelly’s eyes danced. “Maybe I knew that a very normal sounding beginning would sound odder than what really happened.” She crossed her legs, painfully aware of William’s penis held in the bottoms, but refusing to break character. She could also feel the occasional air pocket when William’s facial muscles moved away from the shape the mask took when she talked. William would have to pick up some cosmetic adhesive later. She became even more self conscious of that as she ate and asked Jackie if she’d noticed.

“No, but now that you mention it, I can see what you mean.” Jackie replied. “It sort of makes you look like you have really defined cheekbones.”

“So what is it that you want?” Nelly asked. “I mean, what’s your dream?”

“I’m not sure I have one.” Jackie said. “I just want to live and have fun. I don’t have a big life goal I’m chasing like you are. I’m not precisely thrilled with my job, but it pays well enough and I don’t know what else I’d do. I guess I’m just sort of waiting around to see if something happens.” She shrugged and smiled. “So here I am. You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened in years.”

“I’m blushing under the mask.” Nelly replied.

“Is it hot?”

“No,” Nelly shook her head, then brushed at her hair again. “Do you have something to hold this back with? I’ve never had long hair before and it’s getting annoying.”

Jackie reached into her purse. “I have plastic combs, but you don’t know how to use those. You’ll have to settle for this.” She gave Nelly a red scrunchie. “You really don’t have enough hair for that, though. I mean, that style isn’t that long. It barely covers your ears.”

“Why do you even have this?” Nelly asked, pulling her hair back despite Jackie’s comments.

“Maybe I like to feel like a teenager occasionally.” Jackie said. “Or maybe I’ve had this pocketbook for so long that it’s been there since I was a teen.”

“So much better,” Nelly said with feeling, pulling the scrunchie tight. “Oh, so the mask isn’t that bad at all. It’s a little tough around the middle when I take a breath and I’m glad you got me a bra. Oh, and my bits downstairs are not happy at being crammed in like this, but it’s not a very rough outfit overall. It’s a little weird to be noticed, though. Even with this short outing, I’ve seen a few men taking a longer look at me than anyone did when I was a man myself. Except when my fly was open or I had a bug on my arm or something like that. I was afraid they’d seen through the costume at first, but now it’s kind of nice to be seen like this.”

“It gets old sometimes.” Jackie said. “Being looked at as an object.”

“Maybe later we could put you in that bloke suit and see how you like not being looked at.” Nelly riposted.

“I’d rather do the lip gloss taste test if it’s all the same to you.”

They continued amiably until it was time to go. Jackie insisted on paying the entire check. A little later, Nelly stood naked in front of her full length mirror, playing with the seam where the belly of the costume didn’t quite cover all of William’s midsection. She made a duck face, laughed and then danced away from the mirror and towards the bathroom. After showering, she took the bottoms off — there was no facility to relieve himself with them on — but left the top half on. Jackie had bought her a lacy nightgown and William was curious to see if the costume would get itchy with long wearing. That was the rationalization and he knew it. The real reason was that Nelly looked cute in the bed attire and couldn’t help hauling out one of the big stuffed foxes William had from when he’d gone on a fox kick as a boy and posing with it, hugging it to her chest with her legs under the covers. By strategic placement of the fox, Nelly could hide the stirring beneath the sheets as her masculine lower half watched her feminine upper role play.

The next morning William was itchy and both he and the costume got a thorough cleaning. He chalked it up to trapped skin and sweat and went down to the shops to find some glue for the mask. When he got back home, he put the female top on and applied the glue by pulling the mask away from his cheeks and placing a little bit of adhesive in. It only took him two tries to do Nelly’s makeup in a way that made him happy and when he put the now clean contacts in, Nelly looked back at herself with luminous green eyes. Smiling cheerfully, she put on a bra and a loose top, climbed into the centaur costume and went for a walk in the back yard. Jackie was at work that day and as usual the centaur went unremarked. William didn’t know whether his neighbors saw but didn’t care or were all out. Either way, after a couple of hours of getting used to being a centaur with female proportions, Nelly was ready for lunch and some time to practice being herself. She rolled the female bottom half on, found a pair of slacks that matched the top, decided she was in the mood for flats and went to a sandwich bar with seating.

The man at the counter was friendlier to Nelly than he’d been to William and Nelly thought he not only paid more attention to her than he did to William but also put more on her sandwich. She was putting the receipt in her purse when she saw the hand written phone number on the back. She giggled and then paused, thinking ‘I can’t be that attractive. That guy must do that to all the women who come here.’ Her chewing was more energetic than it had to be and she was satisfied that the cheeks of the mask were firmly stuck to William’s. She walked around town, but couldn’t think of anything to do, so she went back to her house, took off her pants and put on one of William’s old T-shirts to clean the house in. She was vacuuming when someone knocked. Not wanting to miss whoever it was, she only took the time to put on an elastic topped skirt before opening the door.

“Hey Nelly.” Jackie said, still in her working blouse and pencil skirt.

“Jackie! Come in.” Nelly stepped aside.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you…” Jackie trailed off, looking Nelly up and down.

“Like this? Yeah, I was cleaning and didn’t want to get anything dirty.”

“You know what I mean.” Jackie said when Nelly closed the door.

“It’s best to stay in character if someone can see me.” Nelly replied. “Seriously, I needed the practice, so I spent most of the day as Nelly. If you haven’t got any plans, I could make dinner.”

“OK.” Jackie said.

“Just let me put on something more sociable.” Nelly stopped short of the bedroom door. “You don’t mind, do you? I mean, having an evening in with me as Nelly.”

“No. No.” Jackie replied. “I don’t mind at all. I’d like a date with William eventually, but a girls’ night in sounds a lot more relaxing. No offence to either of you.”

“None taken,” Nelly replied from the bedroom. She emerged a moment later in a longer skirt and a cotton top.

“You look like you’re getting used to it.” Jackie observed as Nelly took a bottle of wine out of the fridge.

“I am! You know, I think I might have flirted with a guy today. I didn’t mean to, but he was behind the sandwich counter and I was feeling really pleased with how things were going. Anyway, I got his number and extra meat — on the sandwich.” She finished quickly.

Jackie took the glass of wine from her and smiled as she sat down. “It’s not that hard when you’re as attractive as you are.”

“Am I?” Nelly asked. “I didn’t think so.”

“It’s not exactly a glamour girl thing.” Jackie said. “More of a quirky cheerfulness. A lot of guys these days go for it.”

“Aw.” Nelly said. “I was going for dryad and people are seeing me as a pixie.”

“You’ll just have to adjust your act.” Jackie replied deadpan.

“That’s what I’ll have to work on tomorrow.” Nelly said. “It’s too bad there’s no one to practice it with, but you’re at work and I don’t know anyone else I can trust.”

“I’m sure you’ll be a perfectly believable woodland spirit.” Jackie replied. “Though you’d better work hard. The party is what, the day after?”

“Yeah.” Nelly said. “Not much time to prepare and I’ll want to rest the day of so that I’m fresh in the evening.” She tucked her legs under her skirt.

“I’m surprised you’re cold with that on.” Jackie said.

“I’m not, but it’s something I’ve observed.” Nelly admitted. “What I’m really surprised by is that the sandwich guy didn’t notice that my skin isn’t right.”

“He probably thought you were wearing a lycra bodysuit or something.” Jackie said. “You’ve done your face so well that I can only tell because I know what to look for.”

Nelly closed her eyes and let her head fall back. “I hope I impress the Aethers.”

“You will.” Jackie said with feeling. “Listen to us for a moment. For all that I’m discussing your costume with you, we’re doing it like two ladies unwinding after a long day. Right now you look like any young woman who’s had a long day, right down to the dust bunny still clinging to your hair and the wine glass in your hand.”

“Dust bunny?” Nelly sat up and started brushing at her hair.

“I was kidding about that. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re as good as you’re going to be and the best thing you can do is relax into it. Isn’t that what you actors always say? Have fun?”

“Yeah,” Nelly smiled softly. “Thanks, Jackie.”

“Just doing what a big sister ought.” Jackie replied. “Now what’s for dinner?”

It was the night of the party and William had spent over an hour carefully applying makeup, adjusting the fit of the centaur costume and making sure it was working properly. Nelly had decided that her dryad name would be Illiana, a name that wasn’t too fae but not very common either. Her blonde-green hair shone with washable highlights that added more green shading, her cheeks were lightly frosted with a hint of glitter and her lips were the dark red of ripe apples. She’d dusted a pinch of glitter over her skin and the fur of the horse body. Not so much to leave a trail wherever she went, but enough to add a little bit of accent to the smooth, solid skin color and some glitz to the already colorful horse section. She’d considered the adornments provided and decided to use only a single green bow on the horse tail.

She wrapped the leaf-patterned breast band around her chest, dropped the pendant into the resulting cleavage and placed the circlet on her head. She was glad to find that the circlet held her hair back quite effectively. The bottom half of the female suit was laid around the mechanical back half of the centaur body in an invisible layer. She didn’t expect to need it, but she didn’t want to be left without it either. Wearing it under the centaur costume seemed excessive and distracting, so it rested in the back.

Nelly looked unhappily at the horse head, sighed and picked it up. She’d thought hard about it and decided that a scantily clad young lady walking alone down the street in an exotic costume even in a nice town like this one sounded like a bad idea. Even small towns had bad apples. Hoping it wouldn’t disturb her hair or makeup too much, she raised her arms over her head and let the horse head fall over her body, her arms sliding into the straps and the whole thing settling as she lowered her arms. The smoky green perlino horse took a few steps and stopped at William’s flat door. “Oh mice!” Illiana swore. Nelly knew better than to rush and possibly work up a sweat or worse and it was ten minutes later when the green perlino was finally out of the apartment complex.

Illiana enjoyed the sound of her hooves on the pavement and the second looks she got from passers-by. The Aethers were on the other side of town and she didn’t have a car, so she took it slow and savored the crisp autumn air that filtered through the mesh or into the horse’s mouth. She had plenty of time and wasn’t worried about being late. She wasn’t worried at all, in fact. She was floating on the blissful feeling of doing it. She was in the middle of the performance now. No more rehearsal, not more worrying about how good he was. William was going to pass or fail that night. Illiana-horse was trotting on air when she heard the shouts. The horse’s head swung around in time to see four young men trailing her. She sped up a little and they did too. They didn’t look friendly and Illiana looked around for help. No one else was around as she’d crossed through the busiest part of town and into the outskirts. It wasn’t much further to Eric’s house — the current troupe leader and host of the party. “Hey, horse! Let us ride you!” One shouted. The men were getting close and Illiana spotted possible salvation. There was a large civic park she’d have to go around to get to Eric’s, as it was enclosed by a four foot high fence and only open on the opposite side.

With the hooligans on her heels, she broke into a gallop, blessing the mechanism and her own preparedness. This time it had caught! She could see the ground passing under her hooves with each explosive push. The back end was doing most of the work and Nelly hoped it was up to the challenge. She’d never had a reason to try, but she had seen the functionality described. She tensed her legs and bent her knees just so and leapt. The rear half propelled her up and forward and to her amazement she cleared the fence without even brushing the horse’s belly against it. In her surprise, she stumbled on the landing, but recovered and shakily cantered away, safely ahead of her pursuers.

She shed the horse head as she trotted down the path towards the house. The knocker was chrome plated and gave her a chance to check herself. She tucked a few wisps of hair back, but otherwise seemed merely out of breath. Relieved, she knocked and was greeted by a very classical image of Zeus. The muscled, bearded man bowed and Illiana bent her forelegs and head in reply, offering the invitation she’d tucked into her waistband. Zeus — Eric — read it and the mustache moved with his warm smile. “Such an image of sylvan beauty should not wait upon the step. Enter and be welcome. Might I be favored with your name?”

“Illiana, your mightiness.” She replied. “I hope that my beauty is not too marred by my lack of wind, but I was pursued here by knaves bent on mischief.”

Zeus frowned and closed the door. “In truth?”

“Aye, they sought to waylay me on the opposite side of yon town meadow.” Illiana continued. “Luckily they did not know me for a sprightly spirit and I leapt over and left them behind.”

“These environs grow ever more perilous.” Zeus said sadly.

“Wait, seriously?” A severe elven looking woman with a crown of leaves, bark armor and a black skirt partly covering greave-clad legs asked. Looking beyond the prosthetics that gave her a more pointed appearance and the long black wig, William thought it might be Laura, another member of the Aethers. “Dropping character for a moment, were you really chased here?”

“Partway, yes.” Nelly replied, dropping down one level from dryad to ‘woman in costume.’ “They started trailing me about a block back from the park and I got away by jumping the fence.”

“Is that one of Gina’s?”

“It is.”

“Lawsy but she does have some good stuff. I mean,” The Sidhe cleared her throat. “The witch has many interesting artifacts. Thy form has the strength of a horse as well as appearance. I’m going to have to check her out again. She’s gotten some fun looking new stuff.” Laura finished under her breath.

“Ah, but the important thing is that you have arrived safely.” Zeus said effusively. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must see to the other worthies who have made the journey here. If you wish, there is an alcove there to put your horse hame. Perhaps later we can get to know each other better,” he added, looking at her suggestively.

Illiana smiled. “The king of gods is kind to show an interest. I, too, would like to learn of your … regal properties.” She started towards the alcove, swinging her hips and the rear half shifted to ‘flirtatious.’ She looked back and saw that Zeus was watching her flank wiggle invitingly while her tail swished. Staying in character as the deific lech, William thought, had benefits.

Illiana was carefully making her way towards the food table when a furry goblin with oversized bat ears and horns approached her. The image of a frightening beast was spoiled by the tall clerical miter on its head. “I’ll bring you a drink if you let me ride upon your shapely back.” The Alp said in a wheedling tone. Illiana thought it was a guest rather than a member.

“That would be a fair trade, good sir, were I to trust your intentions.” Illiana replied. “For the crowd makes it difficult for an equine to make progress.”

“I promise,” the Alp said eagerly. “On darkness and blood that I shall be nought but proper. No monkey business.” It added in a smooth, urbane baritone.

Nelly snorted. “All right, but only for a couple of minutes.”

“Hooray!” The Alp cried, and was back in a moment with two cups. Illiana took them both as the Alp scrambled on to her, and one its arms were around her middle, she gave one back. “Tally-ho!” It squeaked in a mixture of a British accent and its own Germanic wheeze.

The Alp didn’t get much of a ride, though, as it still took quite awhile for Illiana to reach the drink table. It wasn’t so much that the room was crowded as that she was quite large and was being careful not to bump into anything. By the time she arrived, both their drinks were empty and the Alp slid off, apparently satisfied. After putting a sandwich on a plate and refilling her cup, Illiana chatted with a few more people and gave a ride to a heartbreakingly charming Gorgon with green braids, patches of scaled greenish skin amongst the solid grey and slit-pupiled eyes who she both suspected and hoped was Ryan from the Aethers. If the Gorgon wasn’t and was angling for a spot, she was doing really well based on how friendly everyone was with her. Illiana wasn’t sure, though, because she kept throwing sidelong glances at a man dressed rather badly as Jason who was himself in deep and intimate conversation with a warrior princess who Illiana recognized as being one of Gina’s batch of Amazons. When ‘Stheno’ departed - humming cheerfully despite being forced to drag ‘Jason’ away from the princess - Illiana was approached by a minotaur whose stilt legs allowed him to have the appearance of reversed knees as well as a frighteningly realistic axe and hands that ended in hard pads that looked like a cloven hoof when he pressed them together. “Excuse me,” he said, his mouth moving with his words, “might I be granted a word in a more secluded locale?” He must have seen the doubt in Illiana’s expression because he snorted — producing a puff of steam from his nose — and said, “Fear not. I am an emissary. We like to do a quick interview during these shindigs and I was lucky enough to get to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Illiana said, putting her hand to her chest. “In that case, lead on, proud warrior.”

The minotaur cleared their path efficiently and Illiana crossed the room far more quickly than she had with riders. They passed down a hall and into a room with mirrors and racks of clothing. “Eric’s dressing room.” The minotaur explained, locking the door. “He’s got this thing about getting his appearance just so before doing dress rehearsals.” He took his bull mask off and Illiana recognized Lawrence. “Much as it would be fun to conduct this in character, you’re the one being tested. Just for the record, I really was looking forward to this. I like that you went with a double layered characterization and from what I’ve been told, you’ve never broken more than one layer yet.

“I do most of these because I’m curious and like to get to know people. I’m working with you especially because I’m the only one here who can look you in the eye. So, Illiana,” he said, deliberately using her dryad name. “What does a sylvan centaur do with her days?”

“Uh,” Illiana thought furiously. “These days it seems like I spend most of my time avoiding picnickers. My usual job is that of a medicine woman, but we do so much walking to keep away from hikers and the like.” She warmed up to the topic. “Forests have shrunk so much where we live. So many get broken winded just from the smog, not to mention all the things people throw away that cause abscesses in the hoof. Still, it’s not all bad. Modern medicine means we don’t suffer nearly as much from colic or fistulous withers and I haven’t seen a case of husk in ages.”

“So you didn’t write a backstory.” Lawrence said.

“It was that obvious?”

“Achem.” Lawrence coughed and laughed at the same time. “Most of that came straight from James Herriot, except that parasitic pneumonia is more of a cattle disease than equine. Not a bad effort, though, for an off the cuff response and you sounded properly outraged about the loss of forests. So, William, why do you want to join?”

William had been in character so long that he had to clear his throat to talk normally. “I’ve been around the circuit a bit and I heard that you’re a fun, creative team. I wanted to be part of a group that is so … engaged.” William shrugged, then adjusted the leaf wrap self-consciously. “Despite my lack of preparedness, I like to write and I think I’m good. I also think I’m a good actor and want somewhere to belong where I won’t be mocked for both acting and writing. A lot of people don’t take actors’ other creative efforts seriously.”

Lawrence nodded approvingly. “Now, Nelly. Tell me why you’re confident you’ll be a good fit for us.”

Nelly couldn’t resist the opening and replied in her most histrionic ‘luvvie’ voice. “Well, darling, it all goes back to the time I met Sir Gyles Brandreth. Oh, but I should go back a little. I was in this marvelous off-off-off-off-off-below Broadway production of Othello. Naturally I played Lady Othello.” Nelly paused to let Lawrence recover from the spittake he’d done. “Anyway, the other actors were perfectly divine people, but none of them had any talent at all. I was exiting after a superb performance in which I did eighteen encores when I got in a cab and who should be driving but Gyles Brandredth? Well, Sir Gyles said he’d been to see me six times! When I told him where I was staying, he said an actress of my caliber shouldn’t be in such an absolutely dull hotel, so he sat there and forced me to have my baggage sent to this place he knew. He pulled up and my god was it just the most marvelous place, but I had no idea how I was going to pay. Luckily I didn’t get very far in before a blue police box appeared right between me and the front desk. The Doctor said he’d seen my performance as Lady Othello and I simply had to do it for Shakespeare. Well, wouldn’t you know it but that silly billy took me back to before the play was written and I ended up giving him the idea! So Billy — Shakespeare, the lovely duck — let me have this play that he said I’d be perfect in as a Rhinemaiden. It turns out he wrote Der Ring and Wagner had stolen it later on. I’m glad he said Rhinemaiden and not Fricka, though I gave him a piece of my mind for not suggesting Freya. Do you know what he said? He said I wasn’t skinny enough. Cheek!”

Lawrence put up his hand. “OK! I can see that you take the ‘spunky sense of humor’ part of your Nelly character very seriously. Can I get the version that doesn’t involve time travel?”

“Oh, well, I think I’ve already told you.” Nelly said playfully. “You like to have fun and so do I. I don’t take myself too seriously and like to make up entertaining stories. I love acting. When I was a little girl-”

“Oh no! Not another story.” Lawrence said. “So, Illiana. No, never mind. I think we’ve established you can ad-lib. Much as you’re a lovely centaur, I’ve learned all I need to. William, then. It’s obvious from the way you carry yourself that you don’t have a lot of experience — sorry, but there are things that show that though you’ve rehearsed well that you haven’t lived female for very long. So why add so much work? Why do drag rather than come as a centaur alone?”

“I felt that just being a centaur was too weak.” William said. “This costume is almost too good, you see. It detracts from my performance if everyone is looking at how well the back half moves. This way, their attention is focused on how I behave as well as the centaur part. It forces me to have a character beyond that of the centaur, one which I stay in even when I’m talking ‘out of character.’ Would you mind telling me, by the way, what you think I need the most work on?”

“Sure. Off the top of my head, your voice is the most problematic. I can tell you’ve worked hard, but you aren’t comfortable with it yet. It’s too high and not smooth enough in the delivery. You’re getting better, but you’ll need to immerse yourself for months before it comes out without any hints of artifice. You cross your arms occasionally and when you do, you almost always touch your breasts with your forearms and then quickly adjust the way you hold yourself, so it’s plain that you’re not used to having them. The centaur angle hides how new you are to feminine proportions and gait, but I can still find the mistakes if I look for them.”

Nelly’s mouth was a diagonal slash. “Darn. I already knew most of those things, but I hadn’t noticed the arm-chest thing. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s flip the previous question. Gina’s got non-equine costumes that are female and fit the theme. Why not come as the warrior princess, for instance? If you were better than the guy who did, then wouldn’t that give you an advantage?”

“To answer the first part of your question, I had decided on the centaur before the female. I hadn’t actually known about this,” he lightly touched the mask, “until I got the centaur home, though I suspected. True, the warrior princess would have been a very good second choice. She’s a strong female role with a lot of room to add definition as well as being very different and affording me many of the same benefits I have in my dual role as Nelly and Illiana. However, the second question frames part of why I didn’t go for her. First off I didn’t want to potentially be a twin. That would be unfair on both me and the other man or men. Furthermore, it makes it into the sort of competition that I got the feeling you didn’t want. If you wanted a straight up comparison like that, you would have required us all to wear the exact same thing. So it’s also unfair on you. Finally,” he said, quirking his lip, “there was no guarantee I’d be the best. It would have been interesting to see us interact with each other, but I wanted to be as sure as I could be that I wouldn’t have to worry about someone else doing the same act. In the end, I’m glad I went with the centaur anyway. I think it shows off more of my talents.”

“Doesn’t that suggest a lack of confidence? That you in fact know that you’re not the best cross gender performer here?”

“Not at all.” William paused to think. “Only that everyone has a different take on a character and I might be good, but not what you want in that particular role. An actor can be the best, but still not see a character the way the director needs him to.”

“Well said!” Lawrence replied. “Also good reaction to a blatantly untrue insult to your ability. I needed to check to make sure you weren’t the sort who lost their cool over criticism. Actually, Illiana, I did think of something else I wanted to ask you. How do you feel about letting people ride you? I saw that you allowed at least two people to sit on you and I was wondering whether that was something centaurs normally do.”

“No,” Illiana said. “It’s not something we like to do except when we have to. It is not uncomfortable to have someone as light as the twain I took, but we do not like to be thought of as beasts of burden. I shouldn’t say we only do it in emergencies, though. For our friends and if we are not going to be seen by any who do not know us well it is a joy, for it means they may keep up with us when we allow ourselves the joy of unrestrained speed and they may know that speed as well. The company here seems respectful, so I was not unduly concerned by carrying the Alp — who seemed quite innocent for his kind — or the Gorgon — who seemed the sort who loved life in a way that makes me happy.”

“It’s a shame we don’t have the space here for you to stretch out.” Lawrence said. “That rear end is very good.”

“Oh, sir!” Illiana said. “My flank is not so unusual for my kind. You are too generous.”

Lawrence smiled. “You’re too polite — and too engrossed in being an adorable centaur dryad — to ask, so I’ll tell you. I can’t make a judgment until later and we’ll probably be arguing well into next week. You have a strong case, but I’m sure you’ve seen that there are a lot of good people out there.” He put the minotaur mask back on. “Allow me to escort you back to the main floor.” Illiana held his hand as he led her back to the room where most of the people were still mingling. He pressed his nose to the back of her hand and blew a small amount of steam onto it. “It was a pleasure talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Illiana said. “It is good to meet another human-herbivore mix.”

Illiana talked to a few more people and had another sandwich as the party wound down. It seemed as if she had been one of the last to be interviewed and with the serious business over, people were filtering out. She decided to wait to leave until the group was small enough that her path to the door would be unimpeded. The smaller group seemed to embolden a faerie whose scintillating colors spread out from her diaphanous minidress onto her skin and butterfly wings. Illiana consented to allow ‘Yasin’ to ride her and the squealing fey was the first person to balance on Illiana’s back so well that she didn’t need to touch the human part of the centaur. The group was light enough that Illiana was able to give her an almost unbroken circuit around the room and the faerie thanked her by brushing out her tail and combing the little bits that had stuck to her over the course of the party out of her fur. “You’re absolutely lovely,” Yasin gushed as she worked. She even marveled at how horse and human parts shifted together in embarrassment at her praise.

Illiana had just finished speaking to a creatively made up Cyclops when the Gorgon reappeared. “If I may impose upon you,” Stheno said quietly, “I am in some distress and would be glad of your aid.”

“If I may give it, consider it granted.” Illiana said.

“It is a matter of some delicacy and so I would like to retire to a place where none may observe us.”

“Lead on.” Illiana said. She’d gained confidence from her meeting with Lawrence and followed the Gorgon gladly. Her traditional style toga made the view from behind quite pleasurable and William was eager to impress and to get a closer look at the well made costume.

Stheno led her through a door into what looked like a guest bedroom. “All right,” she said, dropping the Gorgon act. “It’s like this. You may have noticed that my boyfriend is being a pig.”

“Uh, well, I wouldn’t…”

“Don’t worry. He is. I don’t want to let him see me leave because I’m afraid he’ll try to follow. I only brought him because I wanted to give him one last chance.”

“So you’re not a hopeful?”

“Neither hopeful nor member. Just a friend of the group. That’s why I brought a date. I love to strut my stuff and this is more than just an audition after all. Anyway, the point is that if you could take the machine out of your back half and let me get in, I’d owe you a huge one. Please?” She finished, turning the full might of her bright, Gorgon eyes on Illiana. “I’ll make sure to call Eric the moment I get home and tell him that I’ll pick up the machine for you tomorrow. I really just want to get out of here without trouble.”

“Sure. It’s fine.” William became aware of his male half beneath the horse skin. “Just let me get it out alone. I’m … uh … not wearing anything underneath.”

“I’ll wait outside.” The Gorgon said. “I’m Nicole, by the way. Thanks so much!”

William wiggled out of the centaur body, unzipped it around the midsection and with literally eye watering speed he put the female bottoms on. Feeling a little safer — though he wouldn’t know how to explain the band of different colored skin where the two halves didn’t meet — he pulled the back leg machine out. Not wanting to take any risks, she hiked the front part back up over her legs and up to her navel before calling out, “Ready!”

Nicole re-entered. “That was fast.” She looked at the mass of empty horse rear hanging off of Nelly. “I think you’re going to have to lie down or something.”

“I hope I can get up afterwards,” Nelly said, carefully bending the front half’s knees so that her feet were touching the ground, kneeling and finally lying on her side, presenting the centaur’s belly to Nicole. The Gorgon lay down in front of it, put her legs into the costume and slid backwards until her feet were in the straps on the rear legs’ stilts. She inched upward, pushing against the carpet and pulling on the costume until she was most of the way in and then arched her back, gave a final push and straightened out inside. She flipped the zipper around and closed it.

“Can you see?” Nelly asked, craning her head to look at the expanse of perlino green back.

“Yeah, there’s a mesh down here,” Nicole said, her voice coming from both the belly and up from the hole where Nelly’s body was. Nelly felt Nicole’s hands reach up to her, her palms on Nelly’s upper thighs barely an inch from her butt. “I hope you’re not shy about where I put my hands.” Nicole said. “I can’t reach any higher.”

“No,” Nelly squeaked. “No problem at all. Let’s try to get up.”

Nelly had a little practice at this and Nicole seemed naturally graceful as it didn’t take more than a few tries and ten minutes for the centaur to finally scramble to her hooves. In the process Nicole’s grip shifted several times, passing from familiar to very fresh and finally settling back over Nelly’s upper thigh. Nelly automatically took a few steps, forgetting her partner was now a human being and was shocked when Nicole followed her almost as well as the machine had. “You’re good.” She said.

“With friends in a well stocked theater, it’s only a matter of time before you get roped into being part of a horse.” Nicole said. “I won’t be as amazing as that ro-butt, but I won’t let you down. I’ve never been in one that was so invasive though.” The centaur’s tail swished.

“Is that sticking into your —“

“I’d rather not get into details.” Nicole said.

The hours William had spent training himself to give physical clues worked just as well with Nicole, and they made swift progress back to the party room. Not wanting to force her partner/contraband to spend more time than she had to bent over and swathed in the thick horse body, Illiana made a beeline for the door. “Wait a minute.” Nicole whispered. “I forgot my purse. It’s in the coat closet near the horse head, so could you could sling it over your shoulder before you put the head on?”

“No problem.” Nelly said. She looked around. ‘Jason’ was nowhere to be seen. She almost fell out of the costume bending to get it, but snagged the purse and had it on her shoulder before picking up the purse. Zeus was at the door and lightly patted Illiana’s withers. “It was a pleasure to have such a gem of equine womanhood here.”

“It was a gathering that I would have greatly regretted missing.” Illiana replied. “Your majesty knows how to host a celebration.”

“It would appear as if you have taken on a new spirit to share your mortal frame.”

“Don’t worry, Eric, it’s me.” Nicole said. “I asked Nelly to take my purse and let me leave with her. I’ll pick up her mechanical back half tomorrow.”

“Oh, all right Nicole. I hope that yutz didn’t ruin your evening.”

“Oh, no! Nothing could do that.” Nicole replied.

“Thanks for the compliment.” Eric said. “I’ll let you both get going then.”

Illiana ensconced herself again in the horse head when they were out the door. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t live far away.” Nicole said. “Oh! There’s a bit of a draft in the back end.”

“That’s where the plug comes out for the robot. Maybe you should have been in front.” Nelly said doubtfully.

“Don’t worry. Just go left at the gate and up four blocks. Then another left and down two. I live on the corner of Chau and Maine.”

“You mean the blue one with the star outside? I love that place!”

“Wow. My decorating pays off.” Nicole said.

It was late and they met almost no one on the road until they were close to Nicole’s house. “Oh great.” Nelly sighed. “Them again.”

“Who?”

“Those guys who chased me up near Eric’s. They must just wander around town.” Nelly said. “Don’t worry. They’re not close enough to cut us off, but we may have to hurry a bit to keep ahead of them.”

The centaur broke into a semi-coordinated trot and though it looked strange, they made a fast, clopping progress to the corner. The young men were got on their haunches. Nelly remembered that Nicole’s yard had a low fence and said, “How well can you jump?” When she saw that the gate was closed.

“I think I can be motivated to jump pretty high.”

“Good, because your gate is closed.”

“Dammit!” Nicole said.

This time there was no machine to aid her and Nelly only made it halfway up the fence. It hurt her armpits, but she got her hands out far enough to get a grip and push herself over. That left Nicole hanging on the other side, the rear hooves of the horse scrabbling ineffectively at the closely spaced wooden slats. Nelly shed the horse head entirely and with a few heaves pulled her partner up and over. Not wanting to wait to see if the young men would follow — and trespass — Nelly picked up the horse head and they got to their hooves, stumbling up the steps. Nicole’s keys were clipped to the outside of her purse, so it only took a moment for them to get inside and for Nelly to lock the door behind them. The centaur gratefully lay on her side on the soft carpet. When she’d gotten her breath back, Nicole unzipped the belly and crawled out. “I’d call the police, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night. I’m sure they’ll chase the wrong person one day and get shot anyway.”

“Probably,” Nelly agreed, sitting up and gathering the costume around herself. “Though I think they might have just been on something and wanted to pretend to be cowboys.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Nicole said, getting up. “I need to wipe off some of this and put the scales away.” She rubbed her eyes. “Not to mention these contacts. And maybe find something to wear that doesn’t trip me every few steps.”

“Uh,” Nelly looked down at herself. “I’m not wearing anything under the costume.”

“Oh right. I should have known since I’ve had my hand on your bum so much.” Nicole laughed. “I’ll find you something to wear. It’s the least I can do.” She left and returned a moment later with a loose sweater and a pair of leggings. “These should fit you. Sorry I don’t have anything better, but I’m a bit smaller than you are.”

“That’s all right,” Nelly said, taking them. “I’ll change while you’re taking your makeup off.”

“I wish I had some men’s clothes,” Nicole said, walking off. “But I’ve never had a live-in boyfriend.”

“I wasn’t sure you knew.” Nelly called to her through the door she’d closed behind her.

“Oh yeah. You weren’t really making much of a secret about it. Besides, hand on bum remember? While we were getting going, I felt the seam where that body mask doesn’t quite cover everything.”

Nelly had the leggings on and was shedding the leaf wrap when she answered. “Yeah, I didn’t really have much choice.” She looked at the centaur costume. “Speaking of which, I’m going to get in so much trouble if that leap hurt the horse body.”

“No you won’t. I’ll tell Auntie Gina what happened and I’m sure she’ll be too grateful that you did so much for me that she’ll let it go.” Nicole said, sticking her now human-hued face framed by long black hair that had been piled under her wig around the door. “Sorry, I didn’t have much of a chance since I was in a hurry, but I’m a bit more than a friend of the Aethers. I’m one of their makeup artists and Gina’s my aunt. In fact, I’ll make it up to her and give you a little something too. That bodysuit’s actually pretty well constructed. I bet if you have an hour or two then I can make it look a lot more realistic. Auntie won’t mind doing a bit of repair on the horse if she’s got a photorealistic female suit to go with it.” She disappeared back into the room and came out a few minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt, all traces of her Gorgon makeup gone.

“Wow.” Nelly said. “That would be fantastic!”

“Glad to help.” Nicole replied. “But first we have to get all that junk off of you. I need you clear of all other products from head to toe before I work. However, I think we could both use a drink.” She went to a side board. “I personally enjoy bourbon and I don’t have many female friends that do too. You’re not all the way to being a gal pal, but you’ll do.” She poured and gave Nelly a snifter.

“I can’t usually afford good liquor.” Nelly said, sitting back in an overstuffed chair next to Nicole.”

“Then drink and enjoy.” She held up the glass. “Slanj!”

“L’chayim!” Nelly replied.

“Ah.” Nicole smacked her lips. “I needed that. Thanks again for letting me get in with you and for helping me out back there.”

“And thank you in advance for the new paint job.” Nelly replied.

“It’s no big deal.” Nicole said. “I sort of want to do it to see if I can. Nelly was aware that Nicole was staring at her. “You know, you look really comfortable. Not at all like you’re a guy in a costume pretending.”

“The Aethers’ interviewer found a few mistakes.”

“Feh, that’s their job. There’s such a thing as too good.” Nicole replied, putting her hand on Nelly’s. “Although maybe some of that is the liquor talking.” She smiled. “To be honest, painting you up to look more real is partly an excuse to get an even better look at you. I never paid much attention to these outfits when I visited Auntie Gina at her store, but now I’m really curious.”

“This one isn’t the best.” Nelly demurred.

“No, I do remember seeing some that were already well colored.” Nicole agreed. “If this one was from the best group, Auntie Gina would have had it on display with the others and I know I’ve never seen your face on a mannequin. That threw me at first. When I was riding you, I almost thought you were real and I was imagining it. That you’d put on some liquid latex layer for another reason.”

“Wow! Thanks!” Nelly said. “I just don’t want to disappoint.”

“You won’t. I may go in and have a gander at Gina’s best now that I’m interested. Right now, I have you and I want to see you. Maybe we can have a little fun at it too, since we have to get that glitter and stuff off of you.” She got up. “Shower time!”

“Um.” Nelly said as Nicole blithely started taking her jeans off. “Guy, remember.”

“You think girls strip off like this around each other?” Nicole asked. “Not usually. Don’t worry,” she said with a grin, “I’m a professional. And you’re clothed head to toe in a costume, so I don’t see a problem.”

“If you’re sure.”

Nicole’s bra fell to the floor. “Absolutely.” She frowned and bent over. “Sorry, but I have to put this away.” She hung the pile of clothes on a hook on the outside of the bathroom door. “Better. I’m a little compulsive, so you’ll have to put yours here too. Come on, I haven’t got all night!”

Shyly, Nelly took the sweater and leggings off, hung them up and followed Nicole into the already running shower. She tried not to look anywhere but Nicole’s face as she scrubbed at Nelly’s cheeks. “Here, you can help.” She said, giving Nelly a long handled bath brush. Between the two of them, it wasn’t long before Nelly was satisfactorily clean. “See, not erotic at all.”

She helped Nelly wash her hair and then had to do another check for stray bits of glitter. “Is it naughty,” Nicole asked as she brushed Nelly’s hair while Nelly played the hair dryer over her scalp, “that I really want to see how far I can push you before your voice goes male?”

“Yes, but don’t let my moralizing stop you.” Nelly said eagerly.

Nicole whacked her lightly with the brush. “I don’t think either of us are that kind of girl. Though there is one thing.” She bit her lip. “Darn it, I have to know.” She knelt and before Nelly knew what was happened, she’d run her tongue all the way from the back of Nelly’s fake vaginal opening to the front and Nicole was trying to get her pinky into it. “It doesn’t taste of anything,” she murmured.

“You’re very close to making me lose my voice,” Nelly squeaked.

“Oh dear! You can feel that.”

“Yes!” Nelly said in an even higher pitch when Nicole’s finger brushed at the maleness inside.

“It doesn’t go very far in. What’s that - oh!” Nicole removed her finger quickly and was blushing when she went back to Nelly’s hair. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I got carried away.”

“Yeah, well.” Nelly said breathlessly. “If you’re going to, you ought to go all the way next time.”

“You were that close.”

“Nicole,” Nelly said in a more normal voice. “You’ve been washing me naked for almost half an hour and no matter how hard I try, I can’t help but look. You’ve just licked and touched my dick. Yes, I was close.”

“Sorry,” Nicole said again. “I was way out of line. It’s just - when I get curious or something sticks in my mind, I have to do something about it. It’s why I don’t go to museums anymore. I get this compulsion to feel or smell the art.”

“I bet you’re a riot at parties.”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Nicole said, regaining most of her bold tone.

Nicole put her clothes back on — and Nelly heaved an over-the-top sigh of relief — but Nelly had to remain naked. Nicole had a room dedicated to her craft, at the center of which was a table that could be turned into a chair, rotated and inclined in any direction. Nelly lay down, Nicole tied her hair back and put it in a protective shower cap and then Nicole started spraying her with an airbrush. “We’re going to be at this for at least two hours.” Nicole said. “Probably longer.” She let the silence grow for a few minutes. “So… did you see that ludicrous display last night?”

Much later, Nelly stood in a circle of mirrors salivating over the attractive pixiesh young lady that she could view from any angle. Nicole had gone as far as adding color to the band of real flesh that the suit didn’t cover, and had given Nelly strict instructions on how to remove it along with a small supply. “Satisfied?” Nicole asked in a smug tone when the wide-eyed Nelly stepped down from the mirror platform.

Nelly’s reply was a bone-cracking hug. “So happy!” Nelly squealed.

“Fantastic.” Nicole said, her face buried in Nelly’s chest. “Now if you could afford me a more pragmatic salute.”

“Oh yes.” Nelly dropped her.

“If that’s your reaction, I think Auntie Gina won’t be mad.” Nicole said. “It was a fun project. I’ve never gotten to do someone head to foot before. I might try to convince the Aethers to do a play where I get to completely make someone up. Of course, now that you look more like a woman than a doll, you might consider putting on some clothes.”

“Oh, yes.” Nelly smiled and rubbed her head. “I guess I’ll have to borrow some of yours to go home in.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Nicole smile back. “You can bring them back and I’ll trade you for all the centaur parts. Come as a man and we can have coffee or something. You seem like an interesting guy.”

“Ah, sure.” Nelly said, shrugging into the sweater.

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Not exactly. A neighbor who was really helpful when I was getting ready. She sort of called dibs on dating me, though.”

“Hey, who says you have to be exclusive?” Nelly looked at Nicole in disbelief. “Oh, not what I meant! I mean … bring her with. She sounds interesting too.”

“Are you bi, then?”

“That’s for me to know, and the two of you to find out.” Nicole said salaciously. “I hope the image I’ve put in your head keeps you warm all the way home. Good night.” She held out a pair of flip-flops that wouldn’t have been enough if Nelly’s feet hadn’t included a layer of thick material.

“Good night.” Nelly replied, half of William’s mind already on the possibilities Nicole suggested.

William’s body and ardor cooled in the autumn air and by the time Nelly reached her apartment building she was wishing she had yet another layer around the band that had only a sweater between it and the air. She didn’t go straight for William’s apartment — it was locked and she didn’t have the key. Instead, she went to Jackie’s, where she’d slid the key under the door and knew her neighbor was waiting.

Jackie was waiting with more than a key. She had a full supper laid out and despite Nelly’s lateness, it appeared warm and fresh. “You must have had a successful evening.” Jackie said. “Where’s the costume? And why do you look so — um — alive? I hope this isn’t some sort of Cinderella situation.”

“It’s a very long story.” Nelly said with heavy emphasis. She sat down and Jackie poured red wine into her glass.

“Let’s hear it!” Jackie said, leaning forward eagerly.

Nelly started with her trip to the party and being chased by the hooligans…

“Oh my god!” Jackie whispered, squeezing Nelly’s hand.

Then the Alp and the Gorgon…

“I’ve never heard of them. Sounds like a cross between Gollum and the Krampus.”

Her interview…

“Everyone thinks of a few things they wished they’d said. It sounds like he really liked you, though.”

The faerie…

“You are so giving me another ride when you get the costume back.”

Nicole’s request and being pursued again…

“That was a really nice thing to do. It’s too bad you were in a situation that you’d rather not explain to someone else, though.”

Finally Nicole’s offer, her relationship and behavior…

“Wow.” Jackie said. They had made their way through supper and she was slowly sipping at her second glass of wine. “She sounds very quirky. I really like what she did with you, though. The makeup, not the groping. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to tell me about her.”

Nelly gazed into Jackie’s eyes. “I didn’t want to hide anything from you. So, um, what, I mean have you thought about…”

“Her offer?” Jackie laughed. “Sure, I’d love to meet her. I’ll go with you when you pick everything up from her place and take her stuff back. That way I can get my horseback ride on the way back. I’m not the kind of person who jumps right into bed and I’ve never thought about another woman that way, but at the very least she sounds like an interesting person to know. You sound like you had fun with her and not just because she almost got you off. It also sounds like you were willing to give up a quick score because you wanted something deeper with me. Thank you.” Jackie took a deep breath. “I bought you a present and what with what happened, I think there will never be a better time for it.” She took a box out from under the sofa.

“Oh my! It’s so… sexy.” Nelly said, holding up the dress. It had a knee length satin skirt, plunging neckline and was gathered in the front with straps would leave her sides bare from her armpit to the bottom of her ribcage. It was also very red.

“I thought with your complexion and those striking green eyes that it would work. You’ve got more color now that you’ve had work done, but I think you can pull it off.” She smiled as William was obviously blushing at the lingerie that looked like it had come from Victoria’s Secret‘s racier pages. “Well you have to have something to go underneath. I’ve also got matching shoes. I hope they fit.”

Nelly got up and gave Jackie a deep hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s not over yet.” Jackie grinned. “I’m going to change into something of my own while you try that on and then I’m going to further your feminine education. You’re going to learn how to look like the sort of woman who accepts drinks bought for her while never promising anything in return.”

“Isn’t that a bit dishonest?”

“Probably. But we’ll be friendly, just not inviting. Most guys won’t mind.”

“And a bit sexist?”

“Not if we get some from the ladies and buy a few in return for everyone. Who knows? Maybe you’ll see a guy you won’t mind flirting with. I’ll bail you out if you go too far.”

“I don’t know.” Nelly said.

“If you don’t want to, I won’t make you.” Jackie said. “But it would be a waste of a great makeup job and a really amazing dress.”

“Promise you’ll watch out for me?”

“Of course.” Jackie smiled. “What else are big sisters for?”

“Come in! Come in!” Gina said effusively. “Let me take that.” Before William could say a word, she’d effortlessly pulled the boxes he’d labored to carry back from his arms and was bustling back to her gallery.

“Nicole told you what happened.”

“Of course she did, Willie. Now don’t you worry about anything. A few scratches are to be expected given the way you had to pull my Nicole out of danger.”

“I hope she didn’t exaggerate anything,” William said, rubbing his hand over his trousers unconsciously.

“Nicole does many unusual things, but strangely enough she was never much for embellishment.” Gina put the boxes down and opened the accessory box. “Let’s see. Oh yes. She does do good work.” Gina pulled out the female top and bottom. “I could display these now.” She looked sidelong at William. “Although… Nicole tells me you were quite a hit last night.”

“I wouldn’t say-“

“Don’t play coy with me, Willie. I wasn’t sure you’d plump for it, but apparently you were cute as a button.” She held up the two parts. “Here. You can keep them for now. You’ll need the practice. I’m sure you’ll be able to pay me for them later on and as long as you don’t rip anything, it’s not like I can’t ask you for them back if I need them for something. They don’t really match the centaur box anymore anyway.”

“It’s too much.”

“No more argument. Take it, enjoy it, have fun.” She smiled secretly. “Trust me. You’ll have more need than you’d think.”

William swallowed. “Thank you.”

“It’s so fun to drive an actor to speechlessness.” Gina said brightly. “You’ll do just fine.”

“Come on, open it!” Nicole said, almost bouncing in her booth seat across from William and Jackie.

“We should make you wait until dessert.” Jackie said. Nicole stuck her tongue out. She’d become close friends with Jackie and William over the course of the previous week and only occasionally made suggestions about the other two opening their relationship up a bit to let her join them. In truth she didn’t miss out on much. Apart from the occasional date or after work dinner at the apartment building, she was included in most of the things they did together. She especially enjoyed when they went out to clubs with Nelly. She seemed to think it was great fun to explore all the ways she could get Nelly into situations Jackie would have to rescue her from and then look all the more self-satisfied on the occasions — growing more frequent as William gained experience — that Nelly extricated herself without aid. The marks left by the Nelly suit’s tightness had also begun to fade as his body got used to wearing it, though he’d been thinking of wearing it less after several days of stomach cramps.

“I don’t think I could wait that long either.” William said, placing the envelope on the table. “Besides, we need to know what it says so we know what drink to order.”

“I’d drink whiskey either way.” Nicole said.

“Peckerwood.”

“Fancypants.”

William opened the letter, read it and a slow smile crept across his face. “First line understudy.” He looked at Nicole. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“I’d never!” Nicole said, getting up. “But congratulations. Oh, well, Auntie Gina might have. You know that if she hears about something she tells everyone about it.”

“Is that good?” Jackie asked as Nicole got up and slapped William on the back.

“As good as he could have expected,” Nicole said.

“They actually only had one opening in their ‘inner circle.’” William explained. “Someone would have to click with them really well to get that spot without working for them first. First line means I learn all the parts I’d fit and usually have a permanent leading part in matinee performances as well as taking over if someone has a chandelier fall on them or something. I’m also in a good place to become one of the big names if I work well with them.” He kept reading. “Oh. They think I’d do well to work with Ryan to start.”

“He’s the cutest.” Nicole said.

“He’s also the first choice if they’ve got one too many female parts and one too few male.” William added.

“Like I said, he’s cute.” Nicole said with a satisfied smile. “Hey, he might be able to get you a costume that fits so we won’t have to listen to your guts rumbling all the time.”

“Well, Will,” Jackie said, fighting down laughter, “you did introduce yourself as a transvestite. Apparently they thought you were good.”

“Ryan’s amazing,” William said. “I didn’t even recognize him.”

“Oh, he was that really colorful faerie.” Nicole said. “I did his makeup that night.”

“Wow.” William said.

“Yeah, you’ll learn a lot from him.” Nicole said. “And I’m sure they’ll let you do guy parts too.”

“Exactly.” Jackie added. “If you’re good enough, you may one day appear on stage in one.”

William put his face in his hands while the two ladies laughed.

Two very offbeat couples who use costumes to improve their relationships.

First Night at the Brilliant Basilisk
By Paul Calhoun

Henry sat down across from Ansen. His stooped posture, sagging eyes and listless expression told Ansen everything he needed to know. Henry was bored. Before Ansen could say anything, Henry cut him off. “I know. I shouldn’t go to Roy’s tonight. It’s a tired little bar with no action and closes before midnight.”

“Just say the word and you can come with me to the Brilliant Basilisk.” Ansen said. “If you tell me in advance I can make sure you have a great night.”

“I’ll let you know later.” Henry yawned.

Ansen shook his head. “Henry! I’ve told you; you have to tell me early or else I can’t arrange it for you.”

“I don’t know why you’re so protective. It’s a nice club and I know you’re a regular but you can’t have that much influence.”

“You bet I can!” Ansen grinned. “I’m protective for a good reason. So are you coming?”

Henry sighed and closed his hazel eyes and his shaggy sandy hair brushed the table as he rested his forehead. “Maybe next weekend. Right now I just want to relax.”

“That’s what you think. What you really need is action.” When Henry didn’t stir, Ansen shrugged. “Okay, next weekend maybe. You’re leaving at seven?”

“Yeah. One of these days I’ll leave after you do so I can lock up. I feel bad that you have to leave after me every night. Especially since you’re so quiet and considerate getting in. It’s like you never bring anyone home.”

“It’s fine.” Ansen smiled, dodging the implicit question. “I don’t mind at all.”

“You know, it’s funny.” Henry persisted. “You often come back the day after so I know you’re getting some action there. How come you never bring your girls to our place?”

“You said it yourself,” Ansen laughed. “I’m considerate.”

“But what about them? They always have to have you over and you never return the favor.”

Ansen smirked. “Would you believe they’re just that happy to have me?”

Henry opened his mouth and then closed it, looking hard at his small, fine featured roommate. “I was going to laugh at you, but you know what? These days pretty boys seem to be the big thing, and I bet they like being able to kiss you without standing on their toes like they have to with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, big boy.” Ansen jibed. “I’m the one getting it every time I go out.”

“Exactly. So let me have this.” Henry said. “I’m plenty good looking. I just –“

“You don’t meet very many women at that run down old place. I know.”

“You’ve made your point!” Henry said. “You win; I’ll go with you to the Basilisk next weekend.”

“Good. I’ll hold you to that. Meanwhile I get one more visit without you distracting the girls with that lumberjack appeal of yours. Seriously, if you’re going to be seen with me you have to drop the plaid. It’s fine at Roy’s where it’s too dark to see, but –“ Ansen’s smug appraisal of Henry’s wardrobe ended with Henry taking out the ingredients for dinner. “Oh, no! I’m cooking!” He chose to ignore Henry’s smirk at having stopped Ansen from continuing in his critique of Henry’s style. Whatever happened, Ansen never let Henry do the cooking. Not after the ‘quail stuffed with alphabet soup’ fiasco.

Ansen heard the front door close and knew Henry was plodding off to his usual night of nursing a drink and attempting to get off with the one or two girls who occasionally mistook Roy’s for a real club and got stuck there while they got through their two drink minimum – usually bought by Henry. Ansen meanwhile was on his way to a much more exciting experience and not just because the Basilisk was the number one place for people with unusual lifestyles. It was Ansen’s interesting preferences and accoutrements that made his nights there particularly fun. He opened a box and bent to slip on a wig with silver hair, razored fringes, and bangs. He would have to take it off and put it back on later, but he enjoyed the feel of the face framing longer front that brushed his bare collarbone, as well as the tickling of the feathery razored locks in back. The bangs sometimes brushed past his eyes, making him feel mysterious and feminine, helping to get him into the mood.

Everything he needed was laid out in order and he had long practice with all of it. A set of squishy flesh toned pads attached to each other with a narrow, clear ribbon were pressed to his body, the reusable adhesive only strong enough to keep them in place long enough for the hip pads to be squeezed and stuck to him by the elastic waistband of the skimpy thong gaff. The tight underwear went between the butt pads and when he reached down to sweep his penis back and push his balls in, a quick tug made sure it kept them there, leaving him with the beginnings of a smooth profile. A pair of actual satin panties cradled the rear pads and hid the thong underneath. Ansen could feel that everything was staying in place and took out a breast plate – a full wrap around female chest. He put his arms into the straps and hooked it in the back like a bra. At first the nipples had been more for his own pleasure and confidence, but as that confidence grew he’d found his way into outfits that benefitted from the realism of the prosthesis. Not all of his tops worked with a bra these days.

He knew it was easier to put on clothes first, but he’d grown fond of doing all of his makeup and feminizing before picking out his outfit. Ansen felt that it helped him pick the right thing for his girl side to be totally present when he opened the wardrobe and looked. He sat at his vanity, producing a squishy oval that was more hole than material. A full head mask would have been easier, but Ansen liked to have air over as much of his skin as he could. It was much more comfortable, if more time consuming this way. The top was where the largest expanse of material was – the forehead of his new face. He dropped the wig on a stand and his hair was swiftly and easily gathered under a tight bald cap which he glued down and blended to his skin. Then came the mask, which covered his forehead and most of his cheeks and chin with edges that ended below the jawline and around his eyes, nose, and lips. He had a cute button nose already, and the rest was easy to fix with makeup. The mask was lightly brushed all over with a sweat inhibiting glue and then held with a stronger mix of adhesive and skin matching latex around the holes and edges. The same strong skin matcher was used to keep the wig on – he’d learned from experience that you never knew a hair puller until one had a handful of you. A quick layer of evening makeup over the whole thing and out of the vanity mirror looked a pretty, pixieish girl who – after sticking her caps in – had a brilliant, sassy smile that matched her dark purple lipstick, thick mascara, and eyeshadow, all framed by a shoulder length head of razored silver hair. Feeling like it was that kind of night, the girl accentuated her fey appearance with a pair of pointed ear tips that matched her skin tone. The effect was a little spoiled by the line that ran beneath her collarbone and over her shoulders where the breast plate hadn’t been blended yet. Ansen would decide if he needed to do that when Wynn decided what she wanted to wear that night.

He passed her trifold mirror on his way to the closet and stopped to check out his handiwork. Wynn put her hands on her obviously padded hips and twisted to admire her behind – also obviously fake given its color and the line between real flesh and false. “Sexy as usual.” He said, pouting and jumping up to watch the silicone breasts jiggle. On opening the closet, he discarded most of the choices immediately as not feeling right that day. When he’d rearranged things and pushed the rejects out of the way, he was left with four choices.

“Am I in the mood, really?” He asked himself, pressing his partly masked face into the soft feathery fringe that circled the darts of the bodice and then wrapped around the waist of the full skirted purple and black dress. Slipping into it was easy and he had a thing for watching girls putting on clothes, so he went back to his trifold to try it on and see how it felt. It was nice that it left his shoulders and arms bare, and it slid up his legs and over his padded hips with a whisper and a bulge that had his gaff bulging as well. He pressed his knees together and moved them back and forth as he wiggled his hips to get the feathery fringe around his waist. Two of the mirrors showed a pretty young lady with uneven silver hair twisting to reach the zipper on the back of her dress, and when he got the zipper up, there was no sign from any angle that Ansen wasn’t Wynn except for a thin line around her shoulders. She trailed her hands down the feathery fringe and spun back and forth, biting her lip as she thought. It was a lovely dress, but he wasn’t up for keeping track of the boa that went with it, nor making sure he didn’t trip over the skirt while dancing. Ansen really did like the ankle boots that went with it, and filed it away for possibly next week if he didn’t have to babysit Henry. It was a good one for the weeks when he was in the mood to play it slow and sensual or classic coquette. As the dress fell to the floor, Wynn was revealed again as the heavily padded Ansen, who hung up the dress and moved on.

“Same sort of problem.” He commented on the second, having to wade through a sea of skirt that encircled his feminine legs and waist before he could even touch the poofy sleeves or lace trimmed top. Another black and purple affair, this time in a Lolita style with matching striped stockings, knee high boots, and fingerless gloves with a lace fringed wrist. “I’m also not up for redoing my makeup.” His purple lipstick and pale complexion might be enough for some, but when he dressed Wynn like this, she went all the way for pallor and dramatically dark rimmed eyes. The fluffy cute-y goth outfit was a good one if he knew someone would be there who appreciated it, but even at the Basilisk he wasn’t guaranteed that, and it was so awkward to wait for men at the bar when his skirt took up three seats. The soft mass of skirt might feel good now as Ansen was pressed into them, but once he was in the middle of them, the sensual cloud that hugged and caressed him now would soon become more of a chore than a turn-on. “Closer to Halloween or if that luscious fellow who looks like John Astin is there and says he’ll be there next week.” He said to himself. “Though he might prefer the tight floor length skirt even if I can’t dance in it.”

The Lolita dress’s neighbor looked even skimpier in comparison to the bulky gown. “It’ll take me too long to try this on too.” Ansen said, looking disappointed. He imagined Wynn in it and salivated, bound member throbbing with desire to roll the flower patterned stockings up his smooth leg, clip them to garters with the rose embroidery scratching the palm of his hand. The tightness of the knee high boots and the satin gusseted black lace corset, which would give Wynn the best, most dramatically squished together cleavage of anything in her closet. There would be no trouble about having her arms free in something that barely cleared her nipples and when she had the shoulder length gloves which were mates to the stockings, she’d make a lovely whispering sound all over when she walked. Her arms rubbing against the lacy, rose embroidered corset would feel just as good as her legs brushing each other with every step. Ansen opened his eyes to find that he was rubbing the whole mass against his uncovered skin and he struggled to control his breath and keep from jacking off before he was even dressed. He put the hanger back up. “I want to make it to the second drink before I end up going home with someone.” He laughed to himself. “I’m feeling the itch badly, but not that badly. Besides, the other girls hate it when I put on that fuck-me outfit and pick up the best sugar daddy right off the bat.” He playfully put his hands under his hair brushed out the soft white stream. “It’s so hard being such a sexy girl.”

Ansen took down the last outfit and immediately started putting it on. He knew this was going to be it, really, but wanted Wynn to have a choice in case she really felt strongly about being a vamp, girl goth, or barely dressed seductress. What Ansen was really up for that night was a vanilla club night as a standard club girl. Loose black miniskirt – she knew she ought to find a different color, but it went so well with her silver hair – knee high boots with big shiny buckles, midriff baring halter top, and fingerless gloves. It was a classic, and it worked, Wynn thought, turning in front of the trifold, lifting a foot in a ‘kiss me’ pose, and carefully applying concealing latex makeup where seams showed. The skirt had a waist just high enough to hide her hip pads, and with a pair of tight spandex shorts underneath she knew she could do anything she wanted while showing only that she was shapely. She had to blend her chest in the low cut halter, but was used to that. With a frown of thought, she surveyed her jewelry collection and pulled out a silver spangle for each arm. Dressed to flaunt but not appeal to any specific taste, she clicked down the front path and called a car service to pick her up a couple blocks away. She always left from a nearby shopping center so that the driver knew where to go and there was no record of where she lived. Her purse was filled with a few feminine essentials – makeup, wallet, condoms (it amazed her how many men forgot), brushes and so on – as well as a few extras tucked and folded away in locked pockets that she kept in case she needed to quickly repair a tear in the latex or augment herself if she found someone to go home with. Naturally she never invited her men back to her place.

Her first few visits to the Brilliant Basilisk had come with a nervous sexual compulsion that had her relieving herself by gently and – she thought – unobtrusively squeezing herself between her legs where her male organ was tightly hidden away. She was embarrassed now to think that her early trips had probably cost so little because she’d fingered herself in a way that didn’t look obvious to her, but had shown up quite clearly in a rear view mirror along with her lip biting, rubbing her smooth and sometimes stockinged legs together, and expression of frustration followed by a flush of release. She’d also been very nervous and had barely spoken to anyone. Now she rode quietly in the back, admiring the calm, beautiful face when she caught sight of herself in the rear mirror. She swung her legs with practiced ease out of the car, and paid the driver with a quick bend down that augmented her modest tip, as well as a wiggle of her hips that got her past the bouncer – not that he needed to even look twice at the familiar silver haired fox – and into the throbbing club. She confidently went to the bar, waving at the ladies who had gathered there already. “Hey girls!”

“Hey yourself.” Trisha said and everyone groaned. It was such an overused line but she refused to reply to ‘hey’ with anything else. “Not feeling adventurous tonight?” Trisha herself was a fan of the exotic costumes Wynn usually saved for special occasions or special men, and the dark Latina’s green leaf patterned dress and palm frond hat with gold fruit charms was a testament to how much of a risk she was willing to take to try a new look. The effect wasn’t unattractive – for guys who liked their women to remind them of a banana tree.

“Trish, if an Ent comes in he’s all yours.” Wynn replied, laughing with the group as the girls made room for her to sit with them.

“Don’t be so hasty.” Iana shot back as Wynn smiled at the bartender, earning an eye roll from a couple of them. “I’m in the mood for twelve feet of wood.” The tall blonde was wearing a clingy red dress, though Wynn was positive that her lingerie would be very similar to the borderline bedroom corset set that Wynn had decided not to wear that night.

“It’s too bad I didn’t come in as myself.” Wynn said to Iana.

“You do that less often than you wear something interesting.” Trisha replied. “We understand. If someone like – well like him –“ she pointed at a big, handsome man entering, “was competing with someone like me, I’d pick him nine times out of ten as long as he was nice. If I’m lucky, he’s the patient sort who’ll wait for a girl to slip into her penetratable so he can have a wild night to pay him back. Too bad most boys seem to prefer silver foxes to birds of paradise.”

That’s how most of them had started. Wynn still remembered having such a great idea – men bought ladies drinks and he wanted to save money so it would be a good investment to dress up as a pretty girl and flirt with men to get them to buy him drinks. Ansen had worked out the numbers and decided that it would be worth it to get a gaff, some pads, and a clingy spandex outfit that covered everything from an inch above the elbow to mid-thigh, with a frilly skirt and some costume jewelry. He’d added makeup and a wig after seeing the result and was overjoyed when the bartender gave him his first freebie from a middle aged man whose squint suggested that he needed glasses.

Ansen wasn’t sure why a knot of much more attractive women were giggling every time they looked at him, and feared the worst. One had caught up to him as he checked himself in the ladies’ room for the fifth time after catching their attention. “It’s not exactly what you think, hon,” Trisha had said, her feathery pink bands moving around her body in a way that suggested that the very next move she made would reveal something but never did. “It’s just that if you’re going to start crossdressing for drinks and fun, you’re better off taking it all the way.” Trisha had winked at that and with a twitch of elastic she showed him a flash of something Ansen hadn’t expected to see. “We hang together when we’re not hung,” she’d explained, “so why don’t you sit with us and we’ll help you get attention from more than nearsighted cradle robbers. Trust me; what you do to get the drink is a lot more fun than the drink itself. Besides, we don’t want the boys getting suspicious of all the eye candy and wondering which one is which.” Ansen realized that the giggles hadn’t really been mocking so much as excited to see another one like them. The others had been as warm and eager as Trisha had promised, and when Iana had joined up – her first appearance being in an extremely overdone makeup job and performance that was a cross between Jessica Rabbit and Blache Deveroix – Wynn had been the one to make first contact and help her tone it down a little. It had helped that it was one of the few nights Wynn had gone all out on the sex appeal, and Iana seemed impressed at how naturally she acted in little more than intimate apparel. It was strange but the more of them there were, the more attention each one seemed to get. They didn’t so much as compete as complement each other so that attention was drawn to the entire group at first and then later on to a specific sister.

“Yeah, he’s hot.” Mils said, craning her neck at the man Trisha had spotted. She brushed a fleck of glitter off of her knee length cream skirt and checked to see her green blouse was tucked in. “A little nervous, though.”

“Yeah, like he’s never – dibs!” Wynn said quickly. “Trust me, dibs.”

“Aww, come on!” Trisha whined.

“Yeah, why do you get first shot at the new guy?” Iana complained. “Not that it matters. Look.”

The handsome man – whose clothes were a little formal for the Basilisk though he wore them well – was talking to the bartender, who handed Wynn her usual. “From the gentleman at the end.” He said, winking at them. He knew they’d been watching to see which one of them he made a move on first. He hadn’t struck any of the girls as the type to go after the men and they – or at least Wynn – hadn’t been disappointed. Wynn was glad that both she and the man buying her a drink had arrived early. She’d have been worried for him if he’d come later and possibly tried to pick up one of Wynn’s other friends – someone who might satisfy the conventional preferences she knew he had.

“Sorry girls, I’ll totally explain later. Believe me, it’ll be worth it when I have the whole story.” She blew her friends a kiss and turned her attention towards Henry with a jaunty wave and a flutter of her eyelashes, inwardly glad that he’d zeroed in on her so quickly and proud that he’d worn something decent for the first not.

Wynn thought that from Henry’s perspective this must be a great thing. Finally getting up the nerve to go to the Basilisk – without telling his roommate – and on failing to find Ansen, he instead sees a knot of varied but sexy women all sitting together, and several looking at him with interest. The artificial fog pools around their feet and their faces are illuminated by flashes of color, their conversation totally inaudible over the thumping bass that shook the entire building. Calling out his order to the bartender and yet finding that the experienced man seemed to be able to make himself heard without shouting. One woman in particular – an exotic, elvish looking silver haired young lady – smiling invitingly and then beaming as he buys her whatever she’s thirsty for. She approaches, her low cut halter top, bare midriff, and spandex shorts under the miniskirt giving him a chance to appreciate her curves in motion. The knee length boots making those curves move even more attractively, and the shine from the buckles mirroring those from her wrists. She’s sitting next to him now. She sees how he’s not used to the loud and vibrant Basilisk, so she slides even closer so that he doesn’t have to shout himself hoarse before he figures out how to speak between the beats. To his titillation and disappointment her skirt doesn’t ride up as she skillfully maneuvers right up to him. Her lips tickle his ear and he knows that if he moves he’ll give away just how much she’s affecting him. “Thanks.” Her breath robs him of his own, and he feels like he’s going to get lost in her almond shaped eyes before she blinks long lashes and he finds his voice. One gloved palm is already resting on the back of his hands, the slender bare fingers curling around to brush long nails over his palm.

“You’re welcome.” Henry said, and Wynn knows that the amused smile will easily be taken as further interest. Ansen knew Henry could do better conversationally, but Wynn was making sure he was hooked. Since he was going to show up without telling Ansen first, then he was going to have Wynn the whole time and for as long as he could take her – she hoped the whole night. Henry seemed to rally and said something about being new there. Wynn let her tinkling laugh at how she was being compensated for the surprise by her roommate buying the whole night’s drinks turn into an appreciation for his remark. Really, this was better than Henry deserved for coming in without telling Ansen first. Ansen could have made sure he had a good time, maybe gotten lucky with a girl – one who he knew would work out well, booze trap or otherwise. He could have been given a good time that would make sure he came back and wouldn’t need supervision the next time. Now Wynn would have to take care of him personally and Ansen decided this might be better anyway. Wynn could make doubly sure that Henry didn’t get into any trouble, and after years of living with Henry, Wynn knew she’d be perfectly compatible if a little expensive and high maintenance just to get even with him. In fact, as his lips touched her ear and his scent filled her nostrils, she might even be nice. Ansen wasn’t really interested, but Wynn was feeling very comfortable with Henry sitting so close.

“I guessed.” She said, still talking into his ear, her motion letting her full dark lips touch his lobe and then letting the side of one breast brush his arm as he leaned into speak to her the same way.

She went through another Rum and Coke as they talked, not really saying anything as Wynn reeled Henry in, touching his arm or smiling at something he said, almond eyes dancing with a smoldering desire that more than a few times flicked down. Her nose touched his when they both tried to move to speak into the other’s ear and they sat completely still like that, eyes locked, for a few seconds, eyes meeting for a long, deep gaze. Her eyes were pools of blue and she could feel him struggling to escape and with the urge to kiss her. Feeling like she was about to drown in his hazel regard, she broke in by touching his arm, looking away now that she knew she could trust him to follow her anywhere. “I love this song!” Wynn didn’t even know what was playing but it was excuse enough for them to get up, him a little awkwardly and her with a fluid glide that gave him a quick view of cleavage and a flick of her skirt that showed off the imprint of her ass in tight shorts, lifted and augmented by the smooth line of her long legs in the black high heeled boots. Wynn loved that she could move with such a flowing natural grace, unencumbered by the fear of a hard dick showing and causing a partner to pull back. In the low, flashing light she was a study in contrast, dark clothing and makeup on white hair and pale skin. She pretended not to see the tent in his pants, though she had to acknowledge feeling it when they got out and she was pressed against him. Ansen knew Henry was a good dancer and with his arm around Wynn he relaxed into the rhythm.

Wynn was dressed for it, and Henry swung her around expertly, hands moving over her body to hold her right where she needed – and wanted – to be touched. She threw herself into it as well, often ending up with one leg up with her knee past his waist in a what started with a quick dry hump that grew longer as the night continued. It was perfectly natural when one move drew them together and their lips met, Wynn’s tongue entering Henry’s mouth to let him know that she was ready to leave whenever he was. With her boots on, she didn’t have to stand on tiptoe to do it, either.

“This is so fast!” Henry gasped, cuddling Wynn close during a lull between sets.

“I know I want it. Don’t you?” Wynn’s eyes sparkled; they both knew the answer. Henry’s hands traveled down and Wynn’s did the same. They kissed again and Wynn felt so light that she only noticed Henry had picked her up when she opened her eyes. She giggled and cooed, her arms around his neck as she hung off of him. She caught sight of Iana and waved, winking at her sister alcohol vamp on her way out, head thrown back for a second to watch the club recede before she curled up and squirmed to be able to meet Henry’s lips as he bent to nuzzle her. His arms were so strong, so sure. She could fall asleep in arms like his.

The cool air outside ruffled her silver razored hair and she cuddled deeper into Henry’s embrace, feeling him squeeze her through the padding on her rear. She shifted and moved to wrap her legs around his hips and he shifted his grip to cradle her by her padded butt. Her hold on his shoulders made it easy to continue their kiss from inside, and she laughed even louder as he juggled her and tried to hail a taxi, straining as she sat in the crook of one arm while he waved the other. “I won’t run away if you put me down.” She rubbed his nose with hers and descended to the pavement with a light click of her heels. To reinforce her promise, she stood behind him with her arms around his waist and her face buried in his shoulder, mostly protected from the light wind that ruffled her feathery hair. When no one was around, she let her fingers wander down to tweak the hard-on he’d been nursing since they met. “Soon…” She sighed, squeezing. He rubbed up against her silently, still looking for a cab.

“This is so weird.” Henry said as Wynn slid into the seat next to him.

“What is, sweetie?” She asked, draping herself over him with her hands on his chest and his around her shoulder.

“I don’t usually take girls home, especially ones I don’t even know that well.”

“I don’t usually go home with guys so quickly.” Wynn told him. “I feel like I can trust you.”

Henry smiled and traced her jawline. “Can I trust you?” He asked teasingly.

“That depends on what you want.” Wynn replied just as playfully. “Girls may be wilder at the Basilisk than at Roy’s, but you don’t have anything to fear from me.” She reached under his shirt and dug her nails into his belly. “Physically. I might blow your mind while I’m blowing other things.”

“How did you know I hang out at Roy’s?” Henry asked, massaging Wynn’s side.

“All too easy.” Wynn purred. “It’s written all over you.”

“What else is written on me?” Henry smiled.

“That you have a roommate named Ansen who is very disappointed you didn’t tell him you were going to the Basilisk tonight, you’re thirty-one years old, very self-conscious about it, you had a dog named Yoda when you were in grade school and your inside leg measurement is…”

Henry was almost too distracted by the quick motion of her fingers up his thigh to tickle his crotch to reply. “Has Ansen been talking about me?”

“He’s told some of the girls about you – in conversation. I could tell you were looking around for him when you came in. I guess I must have made you forget. Though a lot of that was easy enough to guess.” Their flanks were touching as they sat next to each other and Wynn worked a long nailed finger under the quivering young man’s waistband. “Your name and address are embroidered on an iron on patch on your underwear – so careful! You were obviously new to the Basilisk but not to town, and Roy’s is the only other place to pick up girls – something you were plainly interested in.” She paused as the slow rubbing of her leg against his prompted a reaction. “The dog part was a bit tricky, but you still keep a picture of him in your wallet next to your driver’s license.”

“You couldn’t have been anywhere near me when I got carded!” Henry protested, laughing and then laughing harder as Wynn moved her nail along his hip.

“You had to take out the wallet to pay.” She reminded him. “And thank you very much for that.”

“I think I’m getting much more than I paid for – not that I think of this that way!” He amended quickly.

“Oh, trust me, I understand.” Wynn’s smile was broad and knowing. “I’ve pulled in a few beefcakes that way. I’m not going out of gratitude; I’m with you because I like you.”

“And because Ansen told you to keep an eye on me?”

Wynn pressed her lips to his. “Ansen didn’t have to tell me anything.”

“I’ll find him later and thank him.” Henry pulled Wynn onto his lap and hugged her. “I hang out with Ansen all the time; I’ve only just met you, so I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Wynn wiggled around, distantly worried about the fact that she wasn’t in a safe position in the car. “Those are interesting priorities.” She slid up and down over the bulge in his pants. “Bros first. Right bro?”

“You can’t be the second thing, so you must be the first.” He agreed, squeezing her bottom.

The rest of the ride was wordless but not soundless as Wynn melted into Henry’s embrace, her tight shorts under the miniskirt and clingy halter top keeping him from groping her where he might feel a seam. His clothes didn’t restrict her wandering fingers as much, and his shirt was open to the belly by the time he opened the door for her and her heels clicked up the front walk as he paid the driver. Wynn almost reached into her purse for the key, and stopped with her hand at her side. She turned at the waist, lips parted and every curve visible at once. She shifted her bag with a heave of bosom and let her free hand rest invitingly with her index finger resting in the indentation her butt crack made in her skirt as she pressed it against her rear. “Coming, handsome?” She cooed, giggling at how stale the line was as Henry put himself back together.

“Keep it up and I will and spoil the fun for you.” Henry replied.

“Oh, I’d never want to do that!” She said, pressing a nail to her lower lip. “Though it would be fun enough to feel that nice belly of yours until you’re ready again, I’d rather be able to have your pants off before the first round is over.”

“Am I really handsome?” Henry asked as he opened the door for her.

“Do you need me to tell you?” She teased. Standing on tiptoe with her arms around him for balance, she buried her hands in his shaggy black hair, moving down to untuck his shirt again to move her hands over his belly to rub his chest. “You’re beautiful.” She murmured.

“Beautiful?” He asked, bemused.

“Yes. I mean, I could say you’re big, toned, have good eyes and a great body, but beautiful sums it up for me. I’ve called you handsome, too so take it or leave it.” She stepped back. “I don’t think you’ll leave.”

“It’s my house!”

“Then let’s go in.”

Henry picked her up again and sat down with her on his lap. “I’ll be right back.” Wynn said, giving him an apologetic kiss as she got up. “Then we can pick up exactly where we left off.”

“Don’t start without me!” He called at her retreating back, and she was sure he watched her all the way to the shared bathroom. She didn’t stop, exiting through the locked door into Ansen’s room. She really did need the bathroom for more than one reason, but she also didn’t feel like spoiling her feminine glow by removing the gaff and just using Ansen’s straining, semi-stiff member.

Everything Ansen needed to spend the night as Wynn was in her purse, but his traveling transformation kit wasn’t as good as what was in his feminizing drawer, so he emptied his purse of what looked mostly like spare underwear and innocuous makeup, lightening the load so he could put in things that might help that night – like a condom, keys that weren’t obviously to the house he was in, and a couple toys he knew Henry would appreciate. Then off came the boots, skirt, shorts, underwear, and top so he could see what he needed to do. The breast plate needed blending around the top of his belly and under his arms, and everything below the waist had to be worked on. An applicator with a roller at the end and a long articulated arm made it simple to go once over the seam around his middle, a spring near the head keeping it pressed to the edge between skin and latex. While that set, he spread the concealer around his underarm. Some twists and jumps showed a continuous, smooth back and a lot of good bounce to the fake boob. Then it was time to take off the gaff and pads to be replaced by a single pair of realistically detailed padded shorts that included a penetratable cavity and a tube with a wider sleeve at the end that he slid his penis into and which pulled it back when he tugged the shorts into place with a bounce that set his breast plate jiggling again.

The shorts ended just below the belly button and a short way down his thigh, uncomfortable to dance in but perfect for when Wynn was done with the club but not done being out. The long handled applicator was brought out again to blend the waist and leg seams, and when Wynn checked herself out again, there was nothing in her reflection but a pixieish girl wearing nothing but a pair of elf ears. She repaired her makeup and padded into the bathroom to relieve herself of the result of a generous amount of drinks she hadn’t had to pay for. She attached a short stiff tube to a bottle of synthetic vaginal fluid and gave herself enough of a squirt deep inside that she’d stain her panties and probably her shorts after a few minutes. Just enough time to make it seem like she was getting really turned on by making out with Henry.

Knowing Henry was probably starting to wonder what had happened, she hurried through getting dressed – though not enough to leave herself looking anything but well put together. She knew one of Henry’s favorite foreplays was to undress a girl with his own hands and he complained often of disappointment when a lady thought she was being sexy by going to the bathroom and returning naked. One thing she left off were her boots, thinking that he’d like it if she got a little comfortable and knowing he’d think she was cute in her purple and black striped socks. She smiled at his visible relief when she settled back in his lap with nothing else removed except the no longer needed gaff – and it wasn’t like he knew about that anyway.

“Worried?” She asked, rubbing noses with him. “Mmm, thanks.” She added, seeing that he’d brought out a pair of mugs while she was getting ready. Coffee was about the only thing Ansen trusted Henry to make.

“Maybe a little.” He admitted.

“So, I answered your question, now it’s time for you to be honest.” Wynn kissed her way up Henry’s shoulder as he held her and nuzzled her throat. “Am I beautiful?”

“You’re cute.” Henry said. When Wynn pouted, he said. “Adorable. Like a faerie panda. All black and white and huggable.”

“Panda?” Wynn pretended to check her compact mirror. “Have I got that much eye makeup on?”

“If you did, you’d wear it well.”

“I can live with that.” She kissed him and he massaged her scalp through her hair.

“Is it weird I hadn’t noticed the ears before?” He asked, brushing her hair back to get a better look.

“I should style my hair to make it so they stick out.” Wynn said. “And you’re welcome for me not taking that as a sign that you were staring at my body and not my face.”

“Thank you.” Henry said dutifully, kissing her deeply as he fondled her elf points.

“They’re not real, you know. I can’t feel that.” Wynn pouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” Henry laughed, bouncing her a little. Wynn realized her wetness must have soaked through. It was the least she could do, really. Ansen knew how annoying it was for men to know that women could see their arousal so easily, but be in the dark about physical signs from a partner they didn’t know well.

Wynn placed his hands on her breasts. “These will do much better.” She said, and even though she couldn’t feel them either she knew they would. Even seeing her boobs being touched made her grow stiff and not just in her hidden male anatomy. She arched her back as he squeezed, and then dove in for another kiss.

“I’m glad we’re getting to know each other first.” Wynn said. Something else she knew about Henry; he liked to take it slow and make a connection even with one night stands.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Henry asked, giving her another squeeze.

“Yah-huh.” Wynn moaned. “We’re both fully clothed, and we’re still having a conversation. It’s just a fun conversation.” She hopped off his lap and cuddled up to his side with her head on his shoulder and her arms around him. “Go on, ask me something?”

“Is this real?” He said, fingering her hair as he pressed his face to her cheek.

“So personal so fast!” She laughed. “No, not even dyed. I’d take it off to show you, but I keep it pretty well stuck on for dancing and I’d rather not have to go through all that before we go to bed. Maybe in the morning if I’m still here. Do you want me to stay afterwards? I know some boys don’t like it.” She looked up at him with wide, liquid eyes, knowing the answer and wanting Henry to invite her.

“Of course. You’ll be even cuter all curled up in bed and a little rumpled from a night with me. I love seeing girls first thing in the morning.”

“There goes my excuse to always seem perfect and put together around you.” Wynn said. “Is that Deimos Edge?” She asked, pointing at their shared game cabinet.

“What kind of question is that?”

“An honest one. You can always know a man by how he plays against his date.”

“Is that a challenge?” Henry said, shifting over a little to turn to look at her.

Wynn looked at him with fire in her eyes. “You bet! Winner gets to be on top! For the first one.” Wynn allowed. “I wouldn’t want to have to do the work the whole night.”

“All right, let’s go!” Henry laughed, grabbing a controller and tickling Wynn’s side as the game loaded.

“No fair!” She giggled, squirming. She wrinkled her nose at him and reached for the strap of her halter top. Giving it a little play, she bounced and her boobs followed a split second later. “There, now I’m cheating too.”

“Hey, I can’t tickle you while we play. Your chest’s going to distract me the whole game.”

“Too bad.” Wynn told him in a mock stern voice. “Unzip your pants if you think it’ll help.” She crossed her legs and then immediately uncrossed them as the first round started. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Henry partway through to see if he was watching her jiggling boobs, intense face, and slightly parted legs. He was, but still won.

“Hmmph.” Wynn said, crossing her arms under her chest to push it up further. “Beginner’s luck.” She was even more intent on the second round and was bent over her controller within a few seconds, drawing Henry’s eye into the deep cleavage on display now she’d loosened her top. He was red by the time she won, giggling and kissing him on the cheek.

“You’re such an ostentatious winner.” He groused.

“You know you love it.” Wynn teased. “I’ll even give you something special if I win the third. But don’t throw the game just to see what it is!” She admonished, wiggling her finger in front of his nose and withdrawing with an indignant squeak when he tried to bite it.

The next game was intense, with both of them down to nearly no health before Henry gave in to distraction to look away at Wynn jumping and shifting back and forth in her seat. Her expression of lip-biting concentration was as painfully sweet as her smug triumph was infuriating. Wynn’s uneven silver hair floated around her as she spun and gyrated in a victory dance, blocking Henry’s view of the television. “So…” She teased, wrist bangles resting on her hips and slightly bent over to be nose to nose with him. “I’m on top when we finally decide we’ve gotten to know each other well enough. First, though…” She turned and wiggled her butt in Henry’s face as she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her skirt and pulled it down, letting out a happy hum when he squeezed her ripe behind. Her stretchy spandex shorts easily accommodated the controller she’d clutched so urgently before, a curve of the rumble pack settling over her sex as if made for it. “The consolation prize.”

Ansen knew that this was one of Henry’s fantasies, and Wynn couldn’t help but giggle at how shocked Henry looked as she sat on his lap and ground against him to press her game pad filled pants against his. She massaged his shoulders, her lips darting in for a quick kiss. “I think you should be able to beat me now.” She arched her back and purred. “I hope you know your character’s finisher.” She shifted to get more comfortable while he put his arms around her waist and rested them on her now bare hips to be able to keep playing the video game. His first attack was a light kick that sent a jolt through both of them, and elicited a tandem gasp. “Starting carefully? Come on, I know you can do it harder than that.” Wynn said.

Henry swallowed hard, but wouldn’t let Wynn have the satisfaction of rushing him. He gradually depleted her first health bar with light attacks and short combos. Her hard, plastic filled pants painfully pleasured them both. “Harder! Harder!” She moaned, massaging his chest, her eyes slit and dark lips parted. Henry couldn’t resist seeing her completely lose it. “Use your super aaaaaaah….” She gripped him hard and then pressed her torso against him, biting down on his shoulder as he suddenly went from small damage to a long combo ending in an ultimate. “Oh yeah!” She cried, their hips moving together to push the vibrating controller deeper into her and harder over him. “Finish me! Finish me!” She demanded, her nails digging into his chest. Their orgasm was surprisingly quiet after her goading, though it helped that he pushed her away and then pulled her back in for a kiss as he did it. He’d never really thought about how long a damage shake could go for until he found himself with a lap full of excited, stimulated gamer girl pushing him into the cushions.

“I hope I didn’t break it.” Wynn said, gingerly pulling the soaked controller from her similarly wet shorts. She put one of the curved parts in her mouth and started sucking it clean. “This probably isn’t helping.” She admitted around the sex covered plastic. She kept at it though; Ansen didn’t want Henry noticing his cum on the controller, which couldn’t be excused as anything else since Henry had been wearing his pants when they came together.

“No, but it’s getting me back in the mood really fast.” Henry said, breathing heavily. He rubbed his tender shoulder. “That’s going to leave a heck of a mark.”

“Wear a tank top tomorrow.” Wynn laughed. “And you’re welcome for the reaction it’ll get at work.” She undid the few remaining closed buttons on his shirt and he pulled her top off. “I love your skin.” She murmured, rubbing her cheek against his smooth belly. Ansen had heard Henry talk about how some ladies liked that he shaved and others didn’t. Wynn was going to be in the first group for sure. She adored how her own smoothness felt – especially when she wore tights or stockings – and made sure to let her delight be known when she found a man who was as soft and slick as she was. “Oil him up and bring him to my quarters!” She instructed an invisible servant.

“Speaking of which, maybe we should move this to a bed.” Henry told her, tickling her belly button and then moving up to trace the line just under her ribs. “Ansen is always so considerate of me since he usually gets home after I do, and I don’t want to make him feel put out when he comes home.”

“That’s so thoughtful!” Wynn said, not even pretending to think it was just to make things hurry along. Ansen knew Henry better than that, and was also touched by his concern. She put down the damp controller and bounced ahead of Henry. “Back in a minute!” She winked as she ran into the bathroom. “You ought to get cleaned up too. We may as well start fresh on your bed.”

Wynn only needed a quick rinse and a squirt with her juice bottle to be ready to go again, but since she was a girl that night she took her time in checking for seams on her mask and prosthetics. Finding none, she deposited her bangles with a flick of her wrist, took off her gloves, and rather than engage in any further foreplay like posing with her back to the doorframe or a slow approach, she ran full speed and dove onto the mostly naked Henry as he lay on the bed. “I won! I pick first position.” She reminded him unnecessarily. She let him undress her, letting him feel her tight spandex shorts over the round butt and soft loin, then find her thong underwear that had been just a shade wider than the gaff that had previously kept the panties looking smooth. One of the lovely things about fake breasts was that they were perky enough to only need a bra when she felt like taking a load off or an outfit needed it, and it hadn’t been a night when she’d felt the need for support, so with the twist of her ankle that sent the thong hanging from her toe flying, she was totally nude and by that point so was Henry.

Henry had told Ansen so many fantasies that Wynn wanted to explore, but it had already been a crowded night and she could feel that what Henry needed most was a focused, energetic, and thorough fuck. Wynn felt very much the same; all the play and seduction had made the man inside desperate for something straightforward and simple. Wynn still started with a long, tongue-down-throat kiss, but within a minute their hips were moving in unison and Wynn was showing off both the perfect motion of fake curves and the great benefit he’d found to being all man underneath: that he and Henry could reliably expect to come at about the same time. Not that Ansen had ever really had that problem often, but it was a load off his mind – and out his covk at this point – that he didn’t have to worry about getting him and his partner synced up. His thoughts were interrupted by Henry flipping them over in a tangle of limbs and her squeal of pleasure at how fast he’d recovered, with his confident grunt making Wynn feel strangely feminine as Henry took over and gently but firmly moved them into a sixty-nine that gave Wynn the closest view yet of what had turned out to be a much better than average penis. She eagerly took it in her mouth, and felt Henry’s short hair tickle her thighs as his tongue entered her deeply and moved against the thin wall of material that kept Ansen’s own safe from discovery. When Henry turned himself around and their kiss mingled the love juices they’d recently swallowed, Wynn basked in the glow and the realization that things had gone much better than if Henry had told Ansen he was going to the Basilisk that night. She drifted off in his arms, stifling giggles at the look he’d get when all the pieces finally dropped into place and then feeling safe and happy in his embrace.

Henry hadn’t been overstating his desire for Wynn to stay the night; he really did like the way women looked the morning after. He always tried to wake up first so he could see them curled up, seeming so vulnerable and without any of the wild, naughty, or sophisticated veneer that came with dating, partying, and lovemaking. Wynn did not disappoint in the least. She’d rolled away from him during the night and curled up on her side, a delicate silicone ear tip peeking out from her uneven silver hair. They were affectations, but they seemed to natural and real on her. She squirmed and kicked at invisible sheets she’d long since removed in moments of active dreaming. Her hair and pale skin contrasted with Henry’s dark sheets, and he couldn’t help but glance down when she kicked again and spread her legs in the motion. She rolled over on her other side, giving him the opportunity for a long appreciation of how her thighs seemed to run up to her firm rear without any appearance of a place he could definitely say it happened. Her lips parted and she mewed and grunted as he put his arms around her and pulled himself up to cup her body. She must have been very deeply asleep, he thought as she barely reacted to him taking her breasts – seemingly perfectly sized for his hands – and let his hands grow deeply familiar with the shape and feel of her.

Wynn woke when Henry’s hands wandered elsewhere and her own moved down to find the hard member between her legs. “Mmmm,” she sighed. “I hate to say it, but maybe we’d better have something to eat first. I’m really hungry and we – uh – never made it to dinner last night.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Henry didn’t mind terribly. If she was staying for breakfast, it meant they might have the whole Saturday to alternately get to know each other personally and bodily. “Don’t you want to take your makeup off, though?” He asked, sounding concerned. “I know it can hurt your skin if you just leave it on like that.”

“Oh!” Wynn put her hand to her dark lips, and then looked down at the pillow. “Sorry. And thanks! You’re so right.” She smiled crookedly. “I came home with the right guy. Not many would think of that.”

“I do my best to please.” He called at her retreating back. The water ran while he got dressed, and he was moderately surprised when she emerged in boy shorts and a long T-shirt. He was too focused on the fact that he also needed the bathroom to ask where she’d gotten them, and the smell of cooking distracted him further when he got out. “Hey, I’m the host!” He laughed, seeing Wynn moving something around in a pan and taking out a bowl and ingredients from the fridge. He put his arms around her loosely so he wouldn’t be in the way. He kissed her neck. “I ought to be the one cooking for you.” She’d been hot and playful the night before, adorably vulnerable in bed, and now was so prettily businesslike and yet still sexy as ever with the T-shirt occasionally riding up to give him a view of the black underwear covering her rear, and the shirt itself doing little to hide her curves and instead showing different ones with every move she made.

“I’d let you if you knew how.” She said, turning to give him a quick peck and then back to the breakfast she was making. Having him so close was cumbersome, but she felt so warm with his strong arms around her and his broader shoulders covering hers. She reached back and decided that he also had a nice butt and pretty legs – though she’d have said ‘toned’ to him if he’d asked. “But I know that my sexy tiger is very clumsy with his paws when it comes to making food.” She took the pan off the stove and took a moment to indulge in a proper kiss. She pushed him away then and made him sit at the kitchen table while she worked, keeping him quiet by turning the reaching and stirring into a dance.

“I’ve been thinking.” Henry said after an extended silence of watching the graceful Wynn spin and bounce around the kitchen getting everything ready.

“Mmmhhmmm?” Wynn prompted, looking sidelong at him with a sly smile.

“I was totally going to ask if you and Ansen had slept together, but then that couldn’t work, could it? Because he never takes anyone home – that I know of – and you know where everything is. Even some pajamas that fit you. Soooo…” He shook his head. “Ansen?”

“Yeah, dude?” Wynn asked, staying in her voice.

“Seriously, man!” Henry was turning red, but was sputtering with the effort of being both angry and laughing hard at the same time. “I tell you everything. That’s how you knew about the video game, and the …” He flushed darker. “All that.”

“What? You can talk about it but you don’t want to do it?” Wynn teased. “Fair’s fair, I told you about all the stuff I’d like to do with girls as a dude.” She put the plates in the middle of the table and bent with her hands on the edge next to Henry’s, her back arched down so she was at eye level with him and her butt was sticking up in the air. “And I told you not to go to the Basilisk without telling me.”

“If that was my punishment…” Henry trailed off.

“Oh, just say it. If that’s what I did to you for not telling me, you’re glad you didn’t. So am I!” Wynn plopped down across from him and crossed her arms, tossing her head defiantly. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I went to bed with you man! How?”

Wynn smiled broadly. “Are you asking me to show you?”

Henry stared at her for so long that she worried he’d lost the ability to speak. “Dude, let me tell you something.” He said darkly and a chill of fear went down Ansen’s spine. He thought Henry would take it all right and it had been fun so far, but Henry was a little on the stodgy side. “If what you’re telling me is that I need to be a girl to talk about what you like to do with guys, then the first thing we’re doing after we eat is have you show me how you do it.” The chill became one of ecstatic anticipation and Ansen was trying hard not to rub Wynn’s thighs together to stimulate the hard-on he had at Henry’s pronouncement. “It must be pretty expensive.” Henry continued.

“It paid for itself a long time ago.” Wynn admitted.

“That’s right! Drinks at the Basilisk are expensive. Oh, and I bet you get gifts and dinners and that! You …”

“Oh, go on and say the ‘s’ word.” Wynn laughed. “Though I prefer to think of it as being an impromptu dance partner for hire. I don’t usually go home with my benefactors at all, and I only did you on the first night because I didn’t want any of my friends getting you first.”

“So were all those girls you were sitting with…?”

“Yeah, but before you think that the Basilisk is all queer people, it’s not. There’s us – some guys figure it out and some don’t – and probably some girls going the other way. The Basilisk is a very diverse group of people, and most of them are who they appear to be. We all got together to look out for each other, and you’re right,” she smiled, “the Basilisk is a pretty pricey place. I don’t go out at Wynn every time, and there aren’t as many gifts or dinners as you might think, but I certainly do well off of being bought a round as a prelude to dancing and flirting. Some of the girls don’t go further. I do because as far as I’m concerned I’m all woman. Wynn’s straight and ready for some fun with the right man.” She leaned forward and put her hand on Henry’s. “I know this might make things weird between us, but you’re totally my type. Not when I’m Ansen, but totally when I’m Wynn.” She sat back. “Up for it, then?”

“Oh yeah,” Henry replied. “If you can make me pretty, I’d love it.”

“I didn’t think you’d take to it so quickly.” Wynn said.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but the rest sounds like the kind of fun I never got at Roy’s. To be honest, I’ve sort of wondered what it was like for a long time. I might not stick with it long enough to get my money back, but I’ll try it once or twice. How could I not with such an obvious expert as a roommate? Seriously, are you trying to be my type or is this just a weird coincidence? If this is the kind of fun you have regularly, then I’ve been missing out! Both on the Basilisk and being a sexy female.”

“I think it’s more that we get along so well as roommates that it’s easy to be your perfect girl.” Wynn replied. “We like most of the same things, after all, and we’ve been living together for over five years now.” Wynn snorted a laugh. “If I were a real girl, I’d be soooo jealous of our bromance.”

“When I’ve learned can we-“

“It’s not as fun as you might think.” Wynn said sadly. She cupped her breasts and shook her head. “What with most of the fun bits not being real.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Henry said.

“Wait, was that why you were so into it so fast?”

“What? No! Okay, maybe.” Henry admitted. “But it’s also because we’ve always done just about all the same things and if you think it’s fun, I want to try too.”

“All right,” Wynn admonished. “I mean, it’s a pretty big thing to do to get into my pants, especially since you don’t need to.”

“Ansen, just forget it!” Henry blushed.

“I’ll try if you want,” Wynn pushed, not quite able to hide that she was teasing him. “I just don’t know if I’ll be that into it. I don’t even know if I’ll like you as a girl. You might not be my thing, or –“ Wynn was silenced by Henry sticking his tongue in her mouth. “I’m glad you’re still cool with doing that.”

“If you look like a babe and sound like a babe, right?”

Wynn brushed her hair back and Henry’s breath caught at the strangely compelling beauty of her subtly returning to being Wynn rather than Ansen speaking through Wynn. “Now is that any way to speak to a lady? Especially one who’s made you breakfast and indulged your secret fantasies?” She took a large bite of sausage and watched his expression. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

“Wynn!” Iana waved from where the girls were sitting. It was unwise of her to be the one to do so, since she was bursting out of an over-tight knee length dress slit to the hip on one side. “We had to move tables.” She explained.

Trisha – resplendent in a rhinestone covered spiral shaped frock – looked Wynn over. “Is your new friend the special occasion?”

Wynn daintily arranged her floor length petticoat supported purple and black lace goth dress, tugging the strapless top to make sure it stayed in place as she sat. The leather chair was cold against her bare back. “Yah-huh. This is my roommate, Elaine.” She squeezed the hand she’d yet to let go of and the broad shouldered young woman sank into the chair wordlessly, her round-cheeked heart-shaped face cast down. She automatically moved her waist length brunette braid out of the way so she could lean back. Proper hair care had been a very important part of Henry’s long talks with Ansen.

“Give her a few minutes.” Wynn said.

“Don’t worry, dear, we’re all friends.” Trisha said, squeezing Elaine’s free hand.

“Don’t be patronizing, Trish.” Wynn said as Elaine blushed. “I know you mean well, but Elaine was really proud of herself for doing all her own work tonight. Unfortunately she got excited and didn’t get herself into the right frame of mind before we left the house. She’s still adjusting to the idea that people are looking at her because she’s pretty.”

“Aww, I know how you feel.” Mils said. She smiled. “I like your dress. Everyone else is such a showoff. The powder blue top really works with your complexion, and I love the hair!”

“’nks.” Elaine murmured.

“Come on.” Mils got up and held out her hand. “Seeing two girls dancing always gets the boys drooling, and it’ll be nice to spend some time with a girl who appreciates a nice, loose, uncomplicated ankle length skirt.” Wynn was ready to step in, but Elaine smiled brightly and let Mils lead her out.

“You spoil her.” Trisha said, waving at the man who’d just gotten her a Long Island.

“What? Because I spared her the trauma of going out looking like an overdone queen her first night?” Wynn snorted. “Just because our daddies spanked us doesn’t mean it was right.”

“I could do with – don’t make me change the subject!” Trisha laughed. She waited for Wynn to acknowledge the White Russian she’d just been bought. “She’s cute, I’ll give you that.”

“She’s that hunk I called dibs on last month.”

Iana made a face. “You tart! Taking a nice bit of beef off the market that way. Shameful. It must have been a lot of work.”

“Less than I’d expected.” Wynn admitted. “I’ll tell you what, I think she’d been doing something like it for a long time. She knew basic makeup, and I swear that girl can hook a bra faster than I can. I guess instinct is a pretty good way of sniffing these things out; it’s no wonder I’ve lived with her for half a decade and we got along so well. She was a delicate flower waiting for the right time to blossom as well. She’d never gone out in public before, that I’m sure of. She could walk in heels a little, but her voice needed a lot of work, and I had to coach her on flirting from the other side for a long time before she got the idea. Now I think about it, though, I think she might have been pretending to be bad in heels so I’d put my hands on her hips and press myself against her to show her how it’s done. She looks innocent, but she’s totally not.” Wynn’s lips curved. “Her reward was a little lesbian action. I may be wrong, but I don’t think she’ll ever really be able to appreciate men the way we do. I tried kissing her when I had my mask off and she didn’t seem to be getting into it much.”

“That’s all right. More for the rest of us.” Iana said. “Mils seems to like her.”

“They’re birds of a feather in taste.” Wynn said. “This was a compromise. She actually really likes the flapper look and the Jackie Kennedy style. I told her to save it for Pearl Harbor day.”

“Maybe all she needed was a compliment from a man who wasn’t showing her the right way to put on a gaff.” Trisha nodded towards the dance floor. Elaine was sipping something that looked like a daiquiri and laughing with a young, technical looking man who seemed to favor silver jewelry. She stepped up and kissed him on the cheek.

“So much for no competition.” Iana lamented. She finished hers and got up. “Time to earn my keep.” She sashayed to the bar where her benefactor was waiting.

“I’d better go make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.” Wynn stood and went to her own sugar daddy to convince him to go dance near Elaine. Having her roommate at the Basilisk would be a bit of a chore at first, but she was already considering the benefits of being two pretty young ladies who lived together and no longer had to worry about being considerate of each other when taking dates home. There was a pair of rich, handsome twins who dropped in sometimes. They always did things together.

Dear reader: This was a request by a semi-friend of mine that I think went rather well. Upshot: A wandering mercenary/knight takes a job to slay a dragon who has been eating the local maidens. The problem is that the dragon refuses to fight honorably and will not appear unless the maiden is completely alone.
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Althalos the Brown was a relatively well-known figure back then, and his figure only became better known after what was later called the Battle of Maiden’s Point. To say that he was a mercenary would be too hard on the nomadic member of the Clan Culpeo Zorro, but to call him a knight would insult many a fine and upstanding gentleman of chivalry. He took money, but only to do things that the better-off knights would do for free. He was lucky to have found such a surprisingly wealthy kingdom in these out of the way parts. None of the true knights would ever come out this far, and so Althalos was free to practice his profession without interference from poverty or hard-nosed nobles. In a word, he’d outfoxed them.

This is all by way of explaining how the Lord William had come to request aid. Fifty gold pieces a day plus expenses and a thousand-gold bonus on completion. Lord William was becoming desperate, and Althalos could understand why. A Draconis Nobelius eating all the most eligible females and crisping every guard, warrior and bereaved loved one that came within sight of its cavernous lair. That was big news anywhere, and would certainly put the kingdom and its savior on the map, assuming either was left when the dragon was finally gotten rid of. The fact that it would only actually eat the maidens was a bit of a problem, since they were the only ones who ever got close enough to the dragon to do much about it. Of course, there was only one solution.

That is how Althalos found himself in the tender if giggly care of the princess, her maids of honor and the wizard. There was always a wizard, even if he seemed more of an alchemist than a mage. Once he’d explained his plan, the maids seemed eager to help. Althalos decided that he’d opt to believe this was out of self-preservation rather than amusement at the Zorro knight. While the wizard prepared some brews that Althalos didn’t bother to ask about, the maids - mostly of a fox clan like himself, though there was also plenty of wolves in the area - removed his clothes and started working a white powder all over his body. He assumed it was meant to brighten up the pale parts of their body, and was the handiest thing they had to change the color of his fur.

In short order, he was white from muzzle to heel and the maids were adding highlights - a creamy tailtip with black details, black marks on his muzzle, those sorts of things. The wizard worked some kind of stretchy undergarment between his legs, and as he looked down, it seemed as if he had the loins of one of the maids. Perhaps this might work. The wizard pressed a pair of white breasts onto his chest which matched the white fur the maids had given him and placed a golden blonde wig on his head, which adhered like the breasts did. According to the mage, everything could be removed by firm, gentle pull and could be replaced as easily. All this had happened so quickly that Althalos was in a daze and simply complied with every order the maids and wizard gave him. He was quickly attired as one of the noble women of the house in the best fitting underwear they could find and a pink gown which barely passed his knees. He didn’t care, but the maids made it clear that they’d had to make do with what they could find, since he was of medium height for a man and they had no tall women in their care. Just as he felt like he’d collapse dizziness at the bustle around him, the maids all stepped back and one pulled a full length mirror in front of him.

He fell back as he saw what the mirror had to show him. At first he thought it had to be sorcery from the mage, but no, that was him looking out from the glass. At first, all he could do was stare at the surprised looking vixen staring back at him with an expression that made him want to rush over and help the damsel. When he recovered his wits, he stood up straight and ran a paw through his hair. Whatever the powder was stayed on his hand, and when the Arctic Clan vixen returned her paw to her side, her back-length tresses were unmarred. At that, Altholos became more adventurous and began to pose for the mirror, earning giggles from the maids just out of sight. With a flick of her new tail, Alianor turned and left the room, making sure that Altholos’ swords, bow and quiver were safely stowed in the hidden pockets sewn into her new skirt.

Alianor was unused to such maidly garments and tripped several times as she ascended the mountain on which the dragon slept. Lord William had provided a carriage to take her as far as the base, but the driver would go no further, and sped off once the disguised knight was safely on his way. Though all within the castle knew of Alianor’s true identity, it did not stop the driver from staring with naked lust at her womanly virtues. In fact, Alianor felt as if he was ignoring the maids to stare only at her. Althalos wasn’t sure whether it was a good sign of how convincing a maiden he made or an omen of fey madness that he felt self-conscious under the scrutiny of the horse knave, and averted his long-lashed eyes whenever he noticed the fox - so like himself - staring at him. Now that she was on her own, Alianor thought about the horseman, wishing he were by her side as she went to face the most dangerous foe she’d ever fought.

The cave was empty. This was obvious by the lack of smoke. Dragons can’t help but give off a haze of steam and four vapors; it is their nature. Alianor stood for a moment, wondering what to do next before sitting on a nearby rock to think. She only absently noted that she’d instinctively smoothed her skirt under her as she sat, and didn’t bother to ponder the implications. She put her muzzle in her hands and considered; if she left now she’d have to walk all the way back and probably be accosted by highwaymen mistaking her for a true maid. If she stayed, she could go hungry and freeze. It wasn’t a very warm area, and despite her current appearances, she was not suited to long stretches of cold. She was about to rise when she heard a sound on the road down to the base of the mountain, a scratching like feet on the trail. Her reflexes slid her off the rock to hide behind it, and so she saw the newcomer without being seen.

It was the dragon! Or so Alianor assumed. After all, how many dragons can live on one mountain? This was no Draconis Nobelius that the Zorro Knight Althalos had ever heard of, though. This one was comely and fair to look upon indeed! No taller than she, and fit to fill Alianor’s gown to bursting and more within the parts which Althalos lacked, and yet slim and svelte in all the places Althalos was. She needed no corset to keep a womanly figure, nor the arts of a wizard to fill a gown. Yet she wore neither, her blue scales shimmering on her back and the pink of her underscales tracing the shape of her womanhood. Alianor could feel the lust of Althalos for this fine beauty, and rose with alacrity to greet the newcomer. “Hail,” she said, the first words spoken since the wizard had given her a potion of feminine tongue. She found the soprano tone of her own voice as worthy of excitement as her reflection had been earlier that day. “Well met, lady.”

The dragon’s head snapped to the side to look at the vixen who had just been hidden out of sight. Her purple, heavy-lidded eyes narrowed, then relaxed into an expression of relaxed sensuality. “Why hello,” she said, her alto complementing Alianor’s soprano. “What a pretty thing we have here. The people of this valley never cease to amaze with the delicate comeliness of their wenches.”

Alianor curtsied, which seemed the right thing to do and also appeared to please the dragoness, who relaxed further at the gesture. “I had heard of the majesty of the Nobelius males, but not of the raw beauty of its females. Surely you are a paragon of air and fire.”

The dragoness approached closer until her jaw was almost touching Alianor’s muzzle. Alianor looked into the dragoness’ eyes and sighed softly. The dragoness leaned over the vixen and said, “But let us dispense with these pleasantries. I see that you desire me as I desire thee. For now, let us forget ourselves and know only pleasure.”
Alianor wasn’t sure she could have replied even if she wanted to, and returned the serpentine kiss with one of hot mammalian passion. She and the dragoness lay in each others arms, twined for many minutes before the dragoness gently pulled Alianor’s skirt up. “Let me show you what the tongue of a dragon may promise, as thee shall give me learning of what your warm-blooded kin can accomplish.” From then on, Alianor was intent on only two things, and neither of them were the growing scent of burning that snapped her out of herself as dread overshadowed ecstasy and the colossal black beast of legend settled on the mountain peak with a rush of wind that blew her hair into her face and made her forget for a moment the comely serpent upon her breast.

The Draconis Nobelius Vitriolus’ laugh rumbled above them and shook pebbles out of the mountain’s side. “What have we today? A pair of suicidal lasses who grew weary of waiting for death and decided to sample the delights of the flesh once more? A pity I must now devour thine flesh, for thou hast both given me great sport to watch as I journeyed hither.”

“In that, beast, thou ist mistaken!” The dragoness pronounced in a deep, gravelly bass totally unlike the seductive alto she’d used previously. She pressed a claw into the bottom of her jaw and lo, a black scarred wolf head now crowned the glorious body of the dragoness. A red light burned in his eyes as the wolf stripped himself of his womanly garb and drew a blade and a shield from the discarded carcass he had recently inhabited. “Thou lookst upon the last brother of a house thou destroyed in thine lust for pure flesh. Now feel the bite of the sword of desperation!”

“Aye,” Althalos added as he removed the gown and accoutrements of the wizard from his body, stooping to retrieve his swords and strap on his bow. “And the sting of the hopes of the kingdom.” The whiteness of his fur couldn’t be helped, but otherwise he hoped he looked somewhat more imposing than before.

The wolf didn’t take his eye from the dragon. “Thou ist more than thine appears.”

“Indeed,” Althalos replied, “as art thou. And when this fray be finished, there shalt be a reckoning.”

“Verily,” the wolf replied at the same time as the dragon, who stooped on them from the mountain top and pinned them to the ground. The wolf looked over at Althalos, “And I had hoped this battle would at least fare longer and see the dragon wounded if not slain. We have failed.”

“Thou hast,” the dragon said. He leaned down and put his face right in front of them. “Dost thou know how many knaves have tried this same attempt? Verily, I have never seen a single female on this peak, and precious few males before I reveal myself. This is the home of my reputation and not the repose of my body.” His rumbling laugh hammered them into the ground. “It is also the stage of my fantasies. Know that many have come upon this peak in false semblance, and many have waited a moon or more before some comely lass - another warrior in similar habit - arrives to make their vigil more pleasant. They cavort and twine with one another until I am satisfied that one or both are worth my time. If neither of thee had been salubrious and worth relish, I would have flamed thee as the imposters I knew thou were. Instead, I find myself well pleased with the pair and give both a choice. Thou may die here in this desolation or thou may take thine apparel to garb yourselves once more and live in bliss forever with the others I have collected over the years. Thine sisters are hearty men at heart, but all look the part of a lass fair to look upon, and fain to couple with one another at their pleasure and mine own. Thou will be provided for in clothing and provision for life, as thine beauty will not fade nor, I reckon, thine willingness to tup. So I say again, cast off thine arms and rejoice for thou shalt enter heaven on Earth if thou will, or heaven above if thou choose to reject my offer.”

The wolf ‘s paw relaxed, as did the sturdy grip of Althalos. “Thine words are fair, lord dragon, and I shall take this offer.” The wolf said. Althalos added, “And for myself.” They were allowed to return to their discarded disguises, and once they were dressed to the dragon’s satisfaction, they were picked up and flown over miles of countryside to a distant cavern where they met adventurers who had previously attempted to slay the dragon. All were attired as the most desirable examples of female flesh in a variety of forms furred, scales and feathered. All were welcoming and both Alianor and the dragoness Lythara found themselves happy members of a sisterhood bound by skill in arms, cunning and the contractually obligated lust that few of their membership begrudged the watching dragon. After all, his taste was superb and none of the ladies of the black scale were novices in such womanly arts after a week of captivity.

In time the dragon was slain by a passing Valkyrie who was mistaken for a local girl and the enchantment that kept the sisterhood of the scale imprisoned faded away. The sisters went their separate ways, some staying with their favorite companions and others striking out alone to seek their fortune as warriors again or to find their family. Some were happier staying sisters while others shed their outer forms with delight. As for Althalos, his legend continued, as was born the legend of the lady Alianor, a traveling Valkyrie well known for her cunning traps and her refusal to bed any man. The world was wide, and the fact that neither were ever seen at the same time was not marked and neither were their apparent similarities. Althalos became a legend not only for his marshal skill, but also for his skill in the bedchambers and Alianor for both her strength in arms and her compassion for women taken captive. Her first known heroism, in fact, was the slaying of the evil wizard who had been providing a Black Dragon with a steady stream of female sacrifices. How she knew about this was never revealed, and it was ever said that if a man boasted to other men of his dominion over women, he always looked over his shoulder if she was about in the land, for she had an uncanny ability to know of such things even when only other men had been told.

Dear reader: Up to the first break, it's Zoonatic and from there on it's all me. This is something of his I felt could be extended. It's some of my earliest work in furry fandom. About four years now, I think. Not really up to the same standard as the Unplanned Adventures, but in a similar vein and I figured why not? There are plenty of things in this that could be considered prototypes for later development in the UA, and it isn't half bad, although it could be improved. Then again, a year after writing anything I believe that.

It had never crossed Marco’s mind that he was a furry. Sure, he liked animals, but he had never desired to look like one. That is until he saw the costume that his sister was to wear in the theatrical production of the Lion King and I.
He had helped her rehearse her lines several times for the play and she had seemed excited about the costumes that the troupe was ordering. He figured that they would be lame, open faced, stylized suits so as “not to hide the actors features”. When Marco went to a production, he was there to see the characters, not the actors. Marco liked the theatre but did not participate much with it. He had tried in the past but was overly shy and unsuccessful. Tonight was going to be different though. The first time his sister had donned the gazelle costume and had practiced her lines in it with him, he knew that he wanted an opportunity to wear it. Luckily, the chance had come as his parents had gone out and his sister was on a date.
Marco crept into his sisters room and opened up the closet. There, hanging on a rack, was the lean and gracefully feminine gazelle bodysuit. The top shelf space just above the costume was occupied by a headstand, upon which was stretched the fur covered latex mask of a beautiful anthropomorphic gazelle. He grinned as he looked around to make sure he was truly alone before he removed the bodysuit from the rack.
The body was slender and graceful, a runners body. He admired the furry suit, the white underbelly and chest, the tan fur with the black lines along the side. The hands and hooves were attached to the suit, the hands had tiny black tips on the ends of the fingers, and the feet were fully cleft hooves. They were dainty and were pretty hard to stand in, so his sister had said, but he was soon going to find out for himself.
He gently probed the black line of fur that ran from the outer thigh of the suit to the underarm. Carefully, he fished out the zipper tab and pulled it slowly down the side from under the arm to the side of the rump. He set the suit aside, realizing the need to feminize his body some more. Luckily, his sister had a corset for a role she played in a Victorian era play that was probably agonizing enough to give him the same hourglass figure she had. He slipped into the corset and zipped it up the middle, he was glad it wasn’t laced. He also borrowed one of his sister’s bras and padded it expertly with some of her cotton batting she used for her sewing projects. Once he was satisfied with his general shape, he once more took up the bodysuit.
Holding it down, he carefully stepped into the side of the costume and let the silky, cool interior transmit the sensual sensations through his skin as he slid his leg into the gazelle girl’s leg. His right leg disappeared into the sleeve of her trim appendage, and his toes fit perfectly into the box shoe hidden within the cleft of the hoof. He stood up on his tip-toe as he then slipped the second leg in. Soon, he pulled the suit up to his waist and was situating it so that the padded hips looked just right.
He reached his right arm down and slipped it into the slick sleeve of what would become his new arm. He watched as his hand slid down her arm and filled it in from the inside out. He wiggled his fingers into hers, missing the little finger a couple of times, the suit was so tight, but managed to get the glove to fit. He grabbed the neck hole and straightened the bodysuit up, popping his head through the neck hole and drawing his other arm into the suit and then filling out her left arm.
He grinned as he went for the mask next. She looked at him with her mouth slightly agape, her chocolate brown eyes bright and cheerful but with a sense of underlying emptiness. The black horns on her head were twisted into delicate spirals and one of her ears still had a golden hoop through it that his sister had added as part of her costume for the play. He liked the way his sister did these little extra things to bring her characters to life.
He opened up the back of the mask and ducked his head down into the interior as he straightened up and pulled it into place. He adjusted the articulated jaw to match his own mouth movements and made sure that the ear and nose tubes were fit securely. He tucked the mask flaps down under the neck and the gazelle girl admired herself in the mirror. Just one more thing to do….
With a broad toothed grin, the new gazelle took hold of the zipper tab on her side and slowly drew it up to the place under her arm that it would be hidden. The suit became tighter as it was zipped closed and Marco was aware of the scent of his sisters favorite perfume inside the mask where she had worn it before. Soon, Marco was completely encased and the gazelle girl admired herself in the mirror. He bemused sense of awe and joy suddenly turned to that of embarrassment when he caught a glimpse of his raven haired sister, Rebecca, standing behind him. The gazelle girl whirled around to face her….”I can explain….”, she began.
Rebecca smiled and held up a finger to shush the gazelle. “The first rule of any suit performer is not to ruin the illusion….”
With Rebecca’s guidance, voice coaching, and even some female training, Marco was soon able to pull a convincing role while costumed as the gazelle. Rebecca even arranged it so that he would be performing in her stead at least two performances per week, of course the troupe just thought it was Rebecca inside the costume. After all, Rebecca liked acting, but she really wanted to direct…..

Marco lay back on the wood chips, his eyes closed and mind wandering. Rebecca dangled with her legs bent at the knees from a hanging bar. The playground wasn't exactly an appropriate place for them to hang out, but over the years they'd never found a better one. Rebecca swung slightly and finally said, "you're still thinking about it."
Marco opened his eyes, "to my lasting annoyance and regret, yes." He'd long since stopped trying to figure out how his sister could hang from the bar like that. They'd both been through gymnastics class as kids, but he'd never been able to duplicate such a feat.
Rebecca righted herself and sat with the bar running between her legs. "I hope you're not mad at me for returning it."
Marco smiled, "of course not. It was worth more than we made combined on that play to 'lose' it. I'm glad they paid you."
Rebecca laughed, "any play that can budget for a skintight fursuit can afford to pay the actors. Can you imagine the quality that must have been required for it to fit so close?"
Marco closed his eyes again and Rebecca could see him trying to control his breathing. "Don't remind me."
Rebecca looked down at her brother. She sighed and said, "couldn't you get a job? With what you made on the nights you replaced me, you must be-"
Marco shook his head, "I'm not old enough to get a job, remember? I'd have to at least get papers from school, and that would mean questions. I'm not that great a liar."
Rebecca grinned, "what about when you wore the gazelle?"
Marco snorted, "I never said anything. One word would have given me away, then as now. It's only because I'm fifteen that I could fit into that costume. Give me a couple more years and that'll be the end. I can't get a job discreetly until it's too late."
Rebecca shrugged, almost letting go of the bar, "maybe you won't grow anymore. It happens." When her brother didn't say anymore, she decided to give him the choice. "How much would you do for another suit?"
Marco opened his eyes, "I hate it when conversations go this way. My response: what do you want me to do?"
Rebecca grinned, "well, if you pooled your play money with mine, and I added some of my own savings, I might be able to work something out. You'll have to sign a contract with me for a return service."
Marco looked dubious, "what return service?"
Rebecca grinned, "can't I have a bit of fun?"
Marco gave her a hard look, "not if it entails me enfemme and fur taking one of your pathetic geek friends on a date."
Rebecca snorted, "please. That wouldn't be nearly enough. No, I have a friend who wants to write her own 'private moments' play. Like the Vagina Monologues but with a different topic. If you'd be willing to be interviewed by her and act as the star, I think we could come to an arrangement about keeping the suit afterwards. She told me I could direct if I could find her a leading mammal."
Marco considered. That wasn't as bad as he'd expected, and since he'd already done one play, why not another? He said, "would I have to remove the mask or be listed by name?"
Rebecca shrugged, "it would add verisimilitude. A greater reality to the play. Why not?"
Marco laughed, "and be known far and wide as a transgendered furry? Pass."
Rebecca was starting to get into the idea and tried to be convincing. "Where else will you get such a good deal? Mom and dad don't have to know. We hid your involvement in the last play, didn't we? This is an off-off-off-off Broadway back alley piece. No one you know will be there. Heck, I'll even pay you, minus the cost of the suit. If we make more in profit than that suit cost, you'll get ten percent for being the main character."
Marco took a deep breath, "fine. I'll do it. Wait. What kind of creature is this?"
Rebecca leapt down, "I'll ask April what she thinks. For the realism, she may go with what you want, so think about it now. I'll be back later to tell you when she wants to see you."

"So, Marco, you're a real furry?"
Marco shifted uncomfortably, "I didn't used to think I was, but one day I just had to wear that gazelle outfit Rebecca had from the Lion King and I. I even took her place on stage several times."
April wrote something down in her notebook. "Interesting. Have you ever been interested in some way before? Going to see Cats or staring at mascots?"
"No!" Marco exclaimed. "It just happened one day. I can't explain why then, it just happened."
April nodded. "So you haven't been suiting long. The unexpectedness makes you an interesting subject. I'm going to be probing you deeply, please don't be embarrassed. Most of what you say will not be repeated, and any specific incidences will be fictionalized. Only the idea will remain."
Marco nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm ready."
April smiled. "Tell me about the first time you wore the suit. How did it feel as you slipped on the first leg? How did you prepare before you began?"

April looked at her notes, "OK, so I've written up a lot of the play already. What I haven't decided is what kind of fur you want to be. From what I understand, you like mammals, preferably something digitigrade. Have you thought about it? Be as complete as you want be in that answer."
Marco replied, "I thought. I've been looking around at the various people. Lupine and vulpine are common, and I admit tempting. Especially vulpine. I'm dead set against any breed of dog, but a gray striped or pure black cat might be nice. I actually did consider an equine of some sort, just so I can have something that works well on all fours. In the end, I think I'll stay traditional and go with a vixen. They can be cute and sexy."
April smiled at the comment, "I'll tell our costume designer. I don't think I ever told you what kind of play it was."
Marco shrugged, "something like the vagina monologues, she told me."
April nodded, "similar. Since you'll be the only subject, there will be more interaction with the other characters and less of you just talking to the audience. I tried to tailor it to your story, and I think it worked. With your choice of animal, I think I have enough to finish. Thank you, I'll be in touch about rehearsal, though I'm sure your sister will be more than happy to do that herself."

Marco went through rehearsals at first with enthusiasm. Everyone seemed happy to work with him, and interested in his furriness. He'd started out shy, but quickly grew comfortable with talking about it. With time, he stopped being so gung-ho. That turned around when Rebecca announced that costumes were in. He took one look at his, ran to the costume rack and started feeling it.
The fur was a bright orange, with a deeper red and brown highlight. It darkened further as it reached the chest and belly, which were white. The colors also deepened near and on the paws. A dark red wig sat framing the expressive brown eyes and muzzle which seemed to smile at him invitingly. Even without looking inside or feeling it, he could tell there was something padding the chest, hips and buttocks. Rebecca gently pulled him away, "practice now. I'll put it in the car so you can get used to it tonight. Just you and the suit this afternoon and evening. You can even sleep in it."
Marco could hardly wait and rushed through his lines. Rebecca forgave him that, knowing that his performance would improve drastically by tomorrow. She quietly loaded the suit into the trunk of her car, careful not to damage it or get it dirty. She wished she had a suitcase, but figured she'd find one at home to bring it back in. That is, if Marco didn't just put the thing on and never take it off. She didn't like how he'd gone for it so quickly.
Marco was quiet on the way back, and took the fursuit into his room without talking to anyone. He laid it out on his bed and examined it, seeing that the mask was attached on this one and the zipper was in front, the track hidden by a flap of fur that velcroed over it. He started at the feet, finding that for true digitigrade appearance, there were clear plastic heels. Going up, he found the genitalia and anus had been worked to inert and cover his own.
He began to wonder how much this had actually set Rebecca back. She'd quoted him a number that was way too low for this kind of workmanship. He reminded himself to work extra hard on the play. He spent a long time on the tail, feeling it and trying to see how it was stuffed. Wiggling it, he felt something odd which he eventually decided must be a servo. Only putting the suit on would answer his questions there. The buttocks and breasts seemed padded with something that felt and moved just right, probably some sort of silicone.
This led him finally to the head, which had straps that looked like they would let him move the mouth and maybe even blink the fur covered eyelids. His hand explored the inside, finding the slick latex inside, as well as some odd bits in various places. In addition to the bits in the nether regions meant to house his current parts, he found two small cups opposite the breasts, and other rubber things like suction cups just above the buttocks, and several in the head. There was also an odd band about the neck, perhaps to hide his nonexistent adam's apple. He also found a much harder section of latex around the belly, so he figured a corset underneath wasn't required.
After all this, he was more than ready to try it on, but was still very careful as he sat and pulled his feet into the back paws. He stood up and got his balance on the heels, bending down to get a grip on the rest. Pulling the arms on, he noticed how the claws could be extended with a small motion of his fingers and how the arms themselves contracted to make his seem smaller. He sucked in his gut as best he could and hooked the zipper with a claw. Hoping it wouldn't pull out, he yanked and got the zipper up to his neck, pulling the breasts into place. He smoothed the velcro down and looked in the mirror. So far so good. He had an hourglass figure, slender arms and legs, which were better shown by the invisible heels. His breasts were proportional to his slim body, accentuated by the coloring. He reached back to get a hold of the head and pulled it over his own, making sure to get the scalp hair away from the seam. It overlapped some of the fur around it, something inside gripping his shoulders so it wouldn't fall off. He pried the muzzle open and fiddled with the straps until they were as tight as his clumsy fingers could make them. Closing the mouth again, he found he could open it a little with his own. He twitched his eyebrows and the ears flicked, an inspired guess as to what those suction cups were meant for. He posed in front of the mirror, a purely feminine image, and finally turned around. By flexing his buttocks, he could move his tail with remarkable precision, and he spent the next hour posing and practicing, finally being able to flick his ears on command, and move the tail to wrap around him and touch his nose.
He bounced with excitement, noting the corresponding bounce on his chest. He had to show Rebecca. Turning, he made for his door and realized before he turned the knob that their parents might be home. Opening it a crack, he tried to call her, "Re-" he choked on the first syllable. That band around his throat had vibrated when he talked and his voice came out higher pitched and feminine. He remembered one day April had asked if she could tape his voice. She must have sent it with the order to get a voice changer installed. Marco was really impressed now, but wasn't sure what to do. If his parents were home, they'd catch a strange girl in a vixen costume, if not- wait. He was not totally disguised. Why bother worrying, Rebecca would cover for him. He could say he was a friend of hers working on the new play. That was true enough. He strode brazenly to the living room, reveling in the swing of his hips and the swish of his tail. He found Rebecca alone reading, and when she looked up it was with true astonishment. "You look amazing."
Marco spun around and said, "more than just look. Did you know about this?"
Rebecca smiled, "yeah. April said it would make the audience the more surprised. 'Sure,' they'd say, 'it's just a girl in a fursuit pretending to be a guy.' Then you pull off the mask halfway through and show your face. I even worked out a movement to show the audience how the voice changer worked. I was saving it for when you got the suit so it'd be a surprise. Happy?"
Marco laughed and spun again, "amazed, enchanted, enraptured, excited! This is going to be amazing! I realized I don't even have to hide from mom and dad when we work on it here. If I wear the suit during our sessions, they won't even question that I'm someone else."
Rebecca smiled, "if that's what floats your boat."
Marco received plenty of envious looks among the actors. As well, there were those who were really happy for him, and those that wanted to stroke his fur the entire time. Someone actually went as far as to pinch his tail, which is when he discovered that the servos went both ways. The tail delivered a very pleasant sensation whenever it was touched.
His performance improved drastically now that he had the object of his labor. The weeks flew past and the day of the first actual performance arrived. As he was about to pull the mask on once more, he looked at Rebecca, "here we are finally. I hope you enjoyed these sessions as much as I have."
Rebecca punched his arm and gave his tail a quick brush, "have fun and break a leg."

Marco took a final bow to a standing ovation, any doubts about this play evaporating with the applause. He waved, blew kisses through the mask and made thanking gestures as he received a bouquet of roses. Making his way offstage, he loosened the straps and pulled his mask off, beaming. Rebecca shook his hand and clapped him on the back, "congrats, little bro. Your first starring role and you brought the house down." She saw the sweat coming off him and handed him a large water canteen with a long straw which he took gratefully. "I'll pick up a personal cooling unit at Sharper Image this weekend. Don't worry about the cost. If we get an audience like this every night, you'll be in the black within two weeks."
Even that news couldn't elate Marco any further. He had his suit, getting paid to wear it would only be a bonus to an already amazing situation. He was going back to the dressing room to put on something cooler, but Rebecca steered him to another door. "Remember the play? You promised the audience you'd be out in the lobby to talk to them when the curtain fell. Now scoot." Marco now understood the straw. Rebecca was being thoughtful in her slave driving. At least he'd be able to drink with the mask on.
There were people from the audience already waiting, some talking to other cast members. When he walked in, his tail swaying, and that cute face smiling from under one arm, he was mobbed. Rebecca held the crowd at bay and guided him to a table so he'd have something between him and his adoring public. "You can have pictures with him soon enough, there's plenty of room for everyone if you just form up in an orderly way."
Marco was glad to be able to sit down, and carefully arranged his tail to poke out between the seat and the back as he did so. Without the microphone, it was easier to talk to people without the mask on, so he put it in his lap. Questions ranged from interest in how he got the part to whether he'd ever had intercourse in the suit. Rebecca helped him with the harder or more embarassing questions and even fended off one irate bible thumper with several choice quotes from Leviticus. Marco made a note to check his copy of the Old Testament to see how many of those were on the level.
Finally the questions petered out, and he had to stand and have his pictures taken with paying audience members. Some asked him to put the mask on, others not. One boy even slipped him a card with his phone number. Rebecca laughed when she saw that. "You've got groupies, bro!"
Marco laughed at her comment and thought that maybe he'd just call that number. Why not? The boy looked nice, and maybe he'd make a good friend. Marco wasn't so far into his role that a lifetime of seminormality could be erased so easily.
The last fan was shooed away and the theater doors were locked. Marco finally had a chance to change into a T-shirt and quickly clean out the inside of the suit. He packed it into its carrying case and joined Rebecca in her car. "Wow," he said, "that was fun."
Rebecca pulled into traffic, "get ready to have even more fun. Every night and twice Saturday until school starts again, then three times on the weekend."
Marco smiled, "I like the summer, but something tells me that the coming of a cooler climate will be welcome." He gestured to the case.
Rebecca smiled, "thinking of walking around outside in it?"
Marco shrugged, "that old playground is always abandoned anyway."
Rebecca looked at Marco for a moment, quickly returning her gaze to traffic. "Promise me something, bro."
Marco looked at her, "what?"
"Promise me you won't get too carried away with this. I'd hate to see you obsess until that suit took over your life."
Marco smiled, "don't worry. I'm sure that doing nightly shows in it will quickly give me my fill. I won't stop going to school or hanging out with my friends or you just because I have a new facet of my personality."
Rebecca nodded, that would have to be enough for now.

The last month and a half had gone by like a dream for Marco. Every evening and four times on weekends he was allowed to dress up as a vixen and go on stage. On top of all that, he was being paid now. The audience had changed as well. Over the course of the last six weeks, more and more obvious furries were in the crowd. They'd started out just coming in with tails, then ears were added, then paws. Soon enough the audience averaged one person a night fully suited, though most removed their masks to hear the performance.
Rebecca had gotten instructions from their provider on how to modify the muzzle of his suit so that a microphone could be permanently added to the mask, and a speaker placed in the nose so he could speak normally while suited. The permanent microphone also interfaced with the system in the theater, so he only had to flick a switch inside to go from normal to actor mode. Rebecca had been pushing him to tell their parents, but he was adamant. "It would mean too many questions," he said, "I just can't stand the idea." He'd gone to see April once a week at her urging. She'd said she wanted him to see her as a patient instead of a partner, but the questions didn't seem to differ much. He didn't mind, and when Rebecca asked about April's opinion, he could easily tell her the truth. "April says that there's nothing inherently wrong with me. Being a furry isn't a big deal in terms of psychological problems."
"What about a female furry?" Rebecca had asked.
Marco laughed, "that was your fault, big sister. Yours was the first suit I saw. I'd point out that I've never had the chance to wear a male suit."
Rebecca had gone off after that with an expression of concern, but determination. Marco shrugged and left her at that. He wore the suit around the house on rare occasions, and his parents had never commented after the first time on the eccentricity of "Rebecca's friend." The arousal he'd once had when putting it on had left him for the most part. Now he just felt as if his problems were remote. The vixen was a star; popular, beautiful and graceful. Why shouldn't he enjoy being her. And he was still turned on when he saw himself in the mirror. It was on one of these occasions when he was in front of the mirror - practicing swishing his tail more for his own pleasure than for any need - that Rebecca knocked on the door. "Come in," he said in that amazing voice of hers.
Rebecca entered, smiling. She had a large box in her hands and as she placed it on the bed, she stopped to pet Marco's tail. Despite any protestations of his continued use of it, she couldn't help but admire the feel of that appendage which Marco now seemed capable of controlling without thought. He smiled, guessing his sister's thoughts and luxuriating in the feel the tail's sensors relayed to his skin of her touch. Rebecca looked at him, "could I see your face?"
Marco pulled the mask off, "sure sis. Just let me put this on its stand." He carefully placed the mask on its foam head and sat. Crossing his legs, he started brushing the hair absently. "What's up?"
Rebecca sat as well and said, "you know that big convention you're supposed to appear at? Well, it's a little early for your birthday, but its such a long gig that I figured you'd be glad to slip into something that won't get you mobbed by fans and autograph seekers wherever you go."
Marco laughed, "I doubt anyone will recognize me when I'm not her."
Rebecca shook her head, "don't be so sure. You take her off in front of an audience often enough. Your human face is almost as well known."
Marco looked at the box and grinned. Jumping up he said, "you bought me another?" He pulled her up and hugged her tightly, "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou! I can't believe you actually did this for me! You have to let me pay you back at least half!"
Rebecca pushed him away, laughing. "Just get me something as big and amazing for my birthday."
Marco laughed, "you got it, sis!"
Rebecca said, "I'll leave you to try it on."
Marco was already unzipping the vixen, "I'll come out as soon as I've had a good look myself. Is it just as advanced-"
"Look for yourself!" Rebecca replied, pulling the door shut behind her.
Marco cut the box open with as much care as he could, but didn't have to worry. The suit itself was packed under several layers of insulation and inside a suit bag. He unzipped it and a mass of black greeted him. Intrigued, he pulled the bag away and found a large box underneath. He opened it and a black cat face looked up at him, its emerald eyes glinting in the light. He picked it up and found that there was a masculine cut to the white scalp hair, which came down by Marco's estimation to mid back. It had its own stand, which he placed next to the vixen's. Picking up the suit again, he examined it more closely. This one had almost no padding. He'd figured Rebecca's gift would be male, but this total lack in padding meant his own physique would do all the work. Reaching inside through the back, he found the same suction cup near the buttocks and a sheath for his genitals. Examining the outside, he saw that it was black except for the paws and tailtip which were white. The belly fur had a dusting of white hairs as well. It was all velvet soft, domesticated as opposed to the feral soft with a hint of coarse of the vixen. The face's nose stuck out, marking it as one of the shorthair breeds that still could work for a living. No lazing about on a pillow and eating fancy feast for this boy. He ate Friskies and got his fun by chasing anything that was smaller than him and moved. He could see that in the playful glint in its eye. There was something on the back, a white plastic thing with something multicolored inside. It looked like it was meant to only be used while the suit was being worn, and Marco was eager to oblige.

Good Friend, Girlfriend
By Paul Calhoun

A spiritual sequel to Best Friend, Boyfriend. A girl who doesn't think she's good looking is after a boy who only dates beautiful blondes. Cue the entry of Michael Falkner, latex matchmaker.

There may be another segment to this in which the new boyfriend tries on the girlsuit. Depends on how the story is received.

“See something you like?”

Eliza looked over her left shoulder and saw Kim sitting behind her on the bleachers. “You know I do.”

Eliza looked back out at the track where the team was practicing. Vic Mobrey was leading the group, his long strides eating up the distance as his brown hair streamed out behind him.
“One of these days you are going to have to ask him out.”

Eliza shook her head, her own black hair barely clearing the back of her neck. “He’d only say no and it would be really awkward after that. I like being friends with him too much to risk it.” He sighed as Vic took a break to pick up his newest girlfriend — a slim, leggy blonde like all the others had been — and give her a kiss. “They all look like that. It’s strange, isn’t it?” She said to Kim.

“You mean how he always manages to find one?”

“No, that he bothers with them at all. Vic’s handsome, smart, sophisticated. He’s really nice, but shallow about who he dates. It doesn’t matter who they are, they have to look like she does. Who is that, anyway?”

“I think her name is Justine but she insists everyone call her Kandi. One of the real airheads.”

“That’s what I mean. We’re good friends, he enjoys talking to me and I like him. We have way more in common than he does with her. It doesn’t matter! All he wants from a date is that bizarre ideal cheerleader type. If he weren’t so damn cute he’d have run out by now but they flock to him from other schools! Most of them end up going with him for about a week and then bore him to death so they break up. Of course he never learns, just goes on to the next Valley Girl who crosses his path. Damn, but I want him!”

Kim rolled her eyes but kept silent. She knew Eliza was right. Even if she lost weight and wore a wig, she still wouldn’t have the figure to attract Vic Mobrey’s attention. He wanted a Barbie doll and that was something Eliza could never be.

After track practice, Eliza was sitting in the library with Vic opposite her. They met at least once a week to study and do homework together with Vic usually contributing more to art and history and Eliza to math and science. Neither were very good at second languages and Vic had long since given up on trying to help Eliza with gym.

Vic might have used the time simply to help with his grades, but for Eliza it was something she looked forward to all week. Having Vic that close made her heart race even after months of being his study partner and she took any excuse she could manage to brush his hand. He must have thought her very clumsy since she was constantly letting her pen roll over to his side of the table. When he was reading, she always took the opportunity to stare at him.

This time he seemed distracted and finally dropped the subject of Laplace's Demon to ask Eliza, “Listen, you’re the only girl I’ve known for more than two months who I can talk to. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Uh,” Eliza tried not to blush, stammer or say something embarrassing. “No, you’re a very nice person.”

“Then why do all my girlfriends leave me? Better yet, why are none of them as interesting as you are?”

Eliza’s lips thinned and she let some of her frustration show. “Do you want me to be honest or tactful?”

“Honest.”

“Give a good hard think as to what they all have in common other than not being as interesting as me. Thank you, by the way.”

Vic sat for a long minute pondering. “I have no idea.”

“You really haven’t noticed?”

“No.”

Eliza stared at him, then started to laugh. “If you ever work it out, that’s your answer. I’d tell you, but I don’t think it would do you any good to hear it from me. The day you notice what all your former girlfriends have in common — and I mean all of them — is the day you’ll stop having problems with keeping them. Now, one problem with the Demon concept is that the universe itself acts as a limiting factor based on the various constants. These change, of course, but not enough to make the Demon a real programmable possibility…“

When Eliza got home, there was a surprising email waiting for her.

From: Falkner, Michael

Subject: It’s yours if you want it

Eliza,
I had a certain amount of trouble with this one. On one hand, I’ve always tried to provide for people who I can tell are in love. My problem was with the endgame. Suppose you get the attention of Mr. Mobrey, then what? You can hardly build a long lasting relationship with someone when they don’t know it’s you. You’ll still be yourself, but in a different package and that presents surprising difficulty down the road. Take my word for it. The longer you hide yourself, the harder it becomes to tell him later on. If you were to try to be a supermodel for him permanently, then what happens if you want to marry him? Live with him and drive somewhere with a license that looks nothing like you?
In the end, the models suggest that your Vic will understand when the time comes, so I’ll sell you the suit if you’re still willing to abide by my conditions: Take my advice seriously and when the time comes, don’t rely on the suit to make you happy.
Mike

Eliza was stunned. She’d heard rumors about Falkner’s work from some people she’d interviewed for a class project on the transgender movement. She’d contacted him and at his request explained why she wanted a costume that could make her appear to be a classically beautiful blonde. She’d been desperate at the time and later on had regretted it. She didn’t want to get Vic by lying to him; it didn’t seem worth it. Now that she’d been offered the chance, though, she had to take it. It wasn’t like she couldn’t back out later. Vic was so used to girls breaking up with him that she could leave at any time and he’d never know it was her. Eliza took a deep breath and told Falkner she wanted to buy his skinsuit.

The next two weeks were full of anticipation and demands for measurements of Eliza’s body. Some of the things Falkner wanted to know involves angles and lengths that Eliza had never even thought of as needing to be known. Some seemed physically impossible to get by herself, but she was determined not to let anyone know that she was doing this, not to mention how embarrassing it would have been to ask a friend to put rulers in some of the places she had to. She was astonished when less than a month after sending the last nude photo of herself, the package came. Eliza had barely managed to get the large box into her room without her mother seeing her at it. She didn’t dare to open it until the next weekend when her parents went out to the movies.

Eliza had given Falkner free reign when she ordered the costume and he’d left the end product to be a surprise. She had to fight down a feeling of jealousy when she took out the one-piece outfit. Jealousy at an empty skin because even with empty eye sockets and completely flat, the girl she pulled out of the box was prettier than she was. She’d told Falkner she wanted a blonde whose appearance screamed ‘cheerleader!’ and that was exactly what she’d received. The costume’s hair was golden blonde and the skin was lightly tanned. Eliza could see how it would make her lips fuller and it had eyelash extensions built in but she wondered how her wide nose would fit into the cute button on the costume’s face. She was also a little worried at how the breasts were so much firmer in appearance and rounder if not as big. In relation to the body, they were larger than hers, but with her zaftig build, that still meant a significant reduction.

The mask hang down and the rest of the costume seemed to roll on like an enormous pair of stockings. Eliza sat down, gathered the left foot up and slid her foot into the suit’s. She saw that the nails were painted a bright pink and wondered if she’d been a little too heavy on the cheerleader requests. The legs stretched over hers and she was disappointed by how little it seemed to squeeze her. Her legs were barely any smaller! She didn’t allow herself to be too disappointed and continued standing up to pull the costume up over her crotch and hips, the tube inside spreading her cheeks as the rim around the inside of the false vagina merged the suit’s privates with her own. Again, it stretched more than compressed and Eliza was continuously contemplating asking for a refund as the taut-appearing belly of the costume expanded to almost the same dimensions as her own. She squeezed her nipples into the costume’s before wriggling her shoulders in so that her arms and hands could travel into the suit’s. She stretched and moved her arms around so that it settled on her, seeing that the nails on each finger were also pink. The mask went over her face and when the nostril tubes were in place and the eyelids stuck to hers, she found the miniscule zipper that went around the back of her new neck to secure the mask to the body.

The girl in the mirror was an improvement, she admitted, but hardly the svelte bimbo image that would get Vic Mobrey’s attention. Eliza looked hopefully in the box, but there was only a letter.

‘Dear Eliza,

You’re probably in the suit already and that’s for the best. It’s easier to explain once you’re inside. If you’ve gotten over the initial disappointment, you might have noticed something digging into the back of your neck just above the zipper track. Press it and say ‘Hither green anbairn claideblunanockt’ to get the result you requested. If you get what you desired, you’ll be very intimate with the boy, so I had to make the password something no one was ever going to say while simultaneously pressing on your neck. Not unless your new beau is a Willow fan trying to turn you into a real girl or possibly a goat! It’s a toggle, so do the same to turn it off.
Good luck and try not to lie for too long before you tell him who you really are.’

Eliza pressed the place she’d only just noticed and said the words. A few eternal fugues of agony later, she saw a disheveled goddess propping herself up on her elbows in the mirror, her almond eyes looking through a glorious mane of blonde hair. Her full lips were parted slightly in an expression that screamed sexual desire even though what she really felt was squeezed into far too small a container. In fact, Eliza thought as the woman in the mirror got up and tossed her hair back, almost any action had sexual overtones in this body. Falkner had obviously decided to make Eliza’s new body a cheerleader ideal for the NFL crowd rather high school. She had to admit that she felt her confidence rising just looking at her reflection.

Steadying herself on her bed, Eliza rose to her feet. Standing with her petite new nose almost touching her mirror, she moved through wonder as she moved and saw the blonde goddess to the same, curiosity as she turned, twisted and poked herself to see just how realistic her new body was, glee when she realized how she was going to get a date with Vic for sure, smug confidence knowing that no other girl was going to stand a chance against the new Eliza and finally buyer’s remorse when it occurred to her that not only did this new body cost a lot of money, it would cost yet more to get the right clothes for it. On the other hand, the new Eliza thought, a slow grin that would have had Vic all over her in a second spreading over her face, she now had a figure that would look amazing in lingerie.

“I guess you’ll have to make do in my ‘fat’ clothes,” she pouted, then covered her full new lips with her delicate new fingers. “Makes sense,” she said in her mellifluous new alto voice. “We can’t have Vic knowing who we are, do we?” She licked her lips, enjoying how her new face made it look like a come on. “Vic.” She said again. “Vic!” She almost shouted. “Oh, Vic!” She giggled, enjoying how she now sounded cute and flirtatious. “I could say your name all day with this voice, Vic Mobrey.”

Eliza was worried about going to the mall since that’s where the movie theater was, then laughed her beautiful girl’s laugh. All her parents would see if they saw her at all was a stunning young woman in clothing that they might think looked a bit like their daughter’s. In fact, she thought with a secret smile, she might find an excuse to bump into them on purpose just to watch her parents walk away without realizing that the swan they’d just met was their own duckling.

Clad in sweatpants that almost fit her, sneakers that did and a ridiculously oversized T-shirt (none of her bras came close to fitting her and her panties tended to fall off), Eliza set out for the mall on foot. It wasn’t a long walk and despite the temptations of seeing how well this body flirted out of tickets, Eliza didn’t feel ready to drive without a license that showed her new face. For the first time in her life, she felt like the people staring at her weren’t judging her on how fat she was and she waved shyly at a group of boys who had stopped on the other side of the street and started shouting rude things to her. She didn’t mind. She was pretty. She deserved it.

Entering the first store, Eliza realized she’d have to be very careful now. She’d saved up for over a year to buy the suit and had a little left over, but not enough to buy an entire wardrobe immediately. She thought about her priorities as she luxuriated in looking at clothes with single digit sizes. In the end, she walked out of the store wearing a new pair of jeans and a scoop-neck green T-shirt. She still had yet to buy any undergarments and though the costume had some support, she wanted a bit more. Her first thought was to buy a few items at a larger department store, but as she passed a lingerie boutique, she knew she had to go in.

She’d always felt self conscious shopping for clothing and had never dared go into a place like this for fear of being laughed at for wanting sexy underwear with a figure like hers. Now she was chatting to the sales girl and comparing items while laughing and talking about the effect it would have on the boyfriend she was about to get. She only needed the occasional glance in nearby reflective surfaces to sustain her confidence and she walked out with a bag as well as the black lace two piece set she’d bought and put on in the dressing room.

Several skirts, blouses, jeans, slacks and dresses later, she was buying a pair of high heeled leather slingbacks to go with her new look. A fleeting glimpse of a familiar face had her paying for them as well as the pumps she’d been eying and running after the retreating back of Vic Mobrey. Eliza opened her mouth, then slowed down so she could enjoy the view of Vic’s rear end. After taking the sights in, Eliza called, “Vic!”

Vic turned around and Eliza almost melted when he looked her up and down, then smiled. “Hello. I’d ask if we’d met, but I’m sure I’d remember.”

Eliza blushed, but her new face only showed a tiny bit of added color. Enough to be attractive without the excessive blotchiness she saw in the mirror. “My name’s — uh — Lizzy.” She said. “I’ve seen you on the track and I had to say hi when I saw you.” She realized that her position was getting weaker and she put her free hand to her mouth and giggled. “You must have a lot of people come up to you and say that.”

“Not that many,” Vic smiled wider. “And certainly not many as pleasant to meet as you.”

The overwhelming confidence that had spurred Eliza to approach Vic without any plan flared again at that. “I was headed to the coffee shop if you’d like to join me.”

“I’d very much like that.” Vic replied and extended an arm.

Eliza suppressed a squeal and took the arm with a smile. She was tempted to start cuddling up to him there and then, but she was still a little nervous and it seemed a desperate move since he obviously wanted her anyway.

Eliza was so busy looking into Vic’s eyes as she explained that she’d just moved and was going to school on the other side of town that she picked up the coffee cup and took a drink without thinking about it. It didn’t help that though the costume’s skin transmitted sensation, it did so with a lag just long enough that she didn’t feel the heat from the cup before sipping. When she almost spit the liquid back out, Vic leaned forward and put his hand on her free one. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” Eliza said, definitely glad that the mask didn’t show how much she was blushing. “I’m fine.” She looked down at Vic’s hand and her embarrassment turned to ecstasy when Vic flushed and pulled it back. She found, in fact, that if anything Vic seemed more nervous of her than she’d been of him and that his discomfort seemed to only increase as her confidence soared. She talked to him about his track meets, politics and celebrities.
When both of their drinks had been gone for a long time, Vic looked around and got up. “Sorry, Lizzie,” he said, and inside Eliza melted at the way he said her assumed name. “I have to get going if I want to get my homework done this weekend.”
“If you’re having trouble with math, I’m sure I can help,” Eliza said and then almost all of her newfound inner strength fled when she saw the look on Vic’s face.
“How’d you know I needed help with math?” He said.
“Women’s intuition?” Eliza said, smiling and trying to pass the incident off.
“Right,” Vic looked at her askance. He shook his head and said, “I’d love to go out with you sometime. What’s your number?”
“Uh,” The lack of planning of this encounter was suddenly giving Eliza a lot of trouble. “Listen, why don’t I call you?”

Vic’s face fell. “Oh. All right.”

Eliza jumped up and grabbed his hand. “Oh, no! It’s not like that at all. It’s just that my phone isn’t working too well right now. How about we go to Irian’s next Saturday? Seven?”

Vic’s smile brought an involuntary grin to Eliza’s face. “Sure. Sounds great.”

Eliza was walking on air as she left the mall and paused to close her eyes, breathe deeply and let the sun warm Lizzie’s face and then hers. Then her eyes opened wide as she realized that while Lizzie might have been rebuffed as a study partner Eliza had agreed to meet Vic in about an hour to help him. Switching to a brisk trot, Eliza made her way back home and quickly stowed her new purchases where her parents wouldn’t see them if they looked in her room. She’d put them away properly later. She undressed, throwing those new purchases on top of the ones she hadn’t worn yet.

Her finger was on the back of her neck when she saw herself in the mirror and thought about how Vic would enjoy the view she was getting now. Slowly, her hand left her neck and strayed between her legs. She was beginning to imagine what Vic would do about it and her other hand grasped a firm breast. “Oh Vic,” she said. She lowered her lashes and tried again. “Oh, Vic.” She purred. “Do I want you to take advantage?” A smile crept across her face and her lips parted slightly. “Do you want me to want you?”

The warmth was spreading over her body and she was about to fall backwards onto her bed to get full enjoyment of being her intended boyfriend’s dream when she heard the door open. Her parents were home! The warmth fled and she pressed the back of her neck. “Wait, what was it?” She turned and scrabbled through the packing material in the box she’d left on the floor. Tearing the page out, she stuck her finger back on the spot and said, “Hither green anbairn claideblunanockt.” Nothing happened. “Hither green anbairn claideblunanockt!” She almost cried as she heard the door close. She felt the costume loosen almost imperceptibly, then it began to stretch around her as her inside body was released and pressed on her outside body. She undid the mask even while parts of her were still attractively slim and struggled to stretch the neck enough to begin the process of pulling it down over her body. She kicked the still warm mass into the closet and closed the door, putting on her normal clothes just in time to open the door to her mother’s knock.

“Don’t you have a study session with Vic?” She asked.

“Oh yeah, mom.” Eliza said. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Eliza sat across from Vic at the kitchen table at his house. Vic had never invited Eliza into his room and there were times that she was relieved by that. She was horribly afraid that stepping into a place steeped in his smell and presence would be too much for her.

“Right, so if y is the cosine of x plus two minus the sine of x…” Vic trailed off, chewing on his pencil. At first he seemed to concentrate, but then he slipped into an obvious daydream.

“Uh, Vic?” Eliza asked. He’d lost his concentration before, but this was the sixth problem in a row.

Vic started and shook his head. “Oh! Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Eliza cheered inside. On the outside, she asked pleasantly, “Anything you want to talk about?”

“It’s…” Vic paused. “I met this girl…” Another long pause. “I don’t know. It’s really weird.”

“The girl is weird?” Eliza asked, knowing that wasn’t what Vic meant.

“No! She’s wonderful!” Eliza fought down a rising heat in her face at that. “I mean that it’s weird that I think that. I met her today, I only talked to her for an hour or two but I felt like I’ve known her for years. For the first time since I started dating, I ended up so afraid to ask her out that she had to ask me!” Vic was smiling in a way that Eliza recognized all too well from her mirror whenever she thought about Vic. “I can tell just from sitting and talking to her that she’s smart, funny, kind, everything. She’s also fantastically good looking.” His brow furrowed. “You know, you two would get along. She sort of reminds me of you.”

Eliza knew she shouldn’t, but she had to ask. “Maybe you’re in love.”

Vic laughed. “It’s strange, but maybe I am. I’ve gone with so many girls and none of them have felt so right and it was only over coffee a couple hours ago. Is that silly?”

“No,” Eliza said. “I think it’s very romantic.” She prodded him a little more. “Where are you going?”

“Um. Irian’s.” Vic said.

“I hope you have something nice to wear.”

“Of course!” Vic was frowning again. “Do you think I should bring her anything? It’s only the first date but I really want to impress her.”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. Maybe if you two hit it off, you can think of that for a second date.” Eliza said. She didn’t need anything more than Vic, after all. Though her new body would look nice with a delicate locket, possibly with a picture of her and Vic on their first date. “You should bring a camera, though.” She said to Vic. “You never know if this might be something you’ll want a photo of to show off later on.”

“Do you think so?”

“If she’s as special as you say, I do think so, yes.”

It was five thirty the next Saturday and Eliza was checking herself over in the mirror and Lizzie looked back, a self-satisfied expression on her face. No matter how hard she tried, Eliza couldn’t think of herself as Lizzie. Fundamentally, they weren’t really different people, after all. Lizzie was just Eliza with a pretty face and a tendency to avoid certain topics. Though now she had an email address, online profile and separate phone, Lizzie’s likes, dislikes, tastes in music and so forth were all copied straight from Eliza’s accounts. She’d debated about that but when she sent Falkner an account of her first day out as Lizzie, he’d told her that the less she deviated from herself when wearing her Lizzie appearance, the better it would be. ‘Let Vic notice how alike you two are. It’ll make it easier later.’ Whatever that meant. Eliza was pretty sure that Vic wasn’t going to dump Lizzie for her. Lizzie was pretty in a lot of ways.

Eliza had never owned a bra and panty set as sexy as the ones she put on that night. Seeing Lizzie in the mirror sliding the panties over her legs and settling her breasts into the cups of her new bra still felt strange. She was the girl in the mirror, yet that girl looked so much more relaxed, confident in herself. She also felt a pleasant chill ripple through her body whenever one of her parents walked by the door. Little did they know what their daughter was doing and who she had become. Her fingers absently massaged her crotch as she thought about how she was going to duck past them. They knew Eliza was going out tonight, but it wouldn’t do for them to catch Lizzie on her way to the door.

Eliza couldn’t help wanting to show off her Lizzie figure on her first date with Vic, so the dress was as brief as possible while still being a sit down dinner dress rather than a bedroom costume or a provocative evening gown. The short sleeves served as a counterweight to the scoop neck that showed off just how perfectly shaped her boobs were. A wide elastic belt brought the dress in to hug her small waist and allowed the layers of the skirt to fall down to mid-thigh. Eliza hoped that she remembered how to walk and sit in such a short skirt. She smiled at the thought that though she wouldn’t mind giving Vic a quick peek at Lizzie’s lingerie, it wouldn’t do for everyone to get that same show. Her slingbacks made the outfit a little less dressy. She didn’t want to look too formal on a first date. The rest of the time before her cab arrived was spent trying different shades of makeup on Lizzie’s face.

When the time came, she picked up her nicest purse and cracked the door. No one there. Walking swiftly, she made it to the door and heard, “Have a nice time, Liz.” From her dad as she locked up. The cab was necessary since she couldn’t drive and didn’t want to walk to the restaurant in her heels. Especially not with it getting darker and her dressed up and looking so inviting to any passing predator. She expected that by the end of the evening, she’d have Vic ready to offer her a ride. If she’d had any way to contact him beforehand, she was sure she could have already. All week, at least once a day when they were studying, Vic would say something about Lizzie to Eliza. No, he was definitely looking forward to the date and Eliza had begun to lose her patience by the end of the week in calming him down whenever he started to wonder if he was going to be stood up. As if any sane girl would do that!

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful, though Eliza was starting to get a little annoyed by how the driver stared at her. When she leaned forward to give him the fare, she almost felt the heat of the intensity of his regard on her semi-fake chest. She saw Vic waiting for her and made sure to extend her right leg out every so slowly before turning and putting both feet on the ground. Vic was at her side before her left food touched the pavement and Eliza felt like a princess as he took her hand and helped her out of the car. He even closed the door for her and only let his light hold on her arm go when he held the door of the restaurant. Eliza knew that she was supposed to be using her new appearance to get the upper hand on him, but everything Vic did made her want to get closer, to feel those athletic arms around her and those lips on hers…

Eliza had no idea how she had ended up sitting down across from Vic. Somewhere between their linking arms again and him pulling the chair back for her and then pushing it under her reshaped rear she’d fallen into a dream. Now with Vic apparently speechlessly looking into her eyes as she did the same with him, she knew that the whole night was going to be one long fantasy. Eliza had never been a tactile sort of person, but it seemed the most natural thing to her when she put her hand on Vic’s and said, “See something you like? I know I do.”

Vic looked away. “Sorry. I can’t seem to stop looking into your eyes.”

Eliza grasped his hand harder and he looked back at her. “It’s fine, Vic. I think it’s nice.” Considering all the other things she’d given Vic to look at, the fact that he was focused on her face made Eliza feel even more special. “Maybe we should talk about something.”

Vic opened his mouth, but at that moment the waitress arrived and they ordered drinks. Having finally said more than a sentence in her presence, Vic seemed to relax a little. He still looked like he was struggling to find something to say. Eliza had the advantage of knowing exactly how Vic felt about Lizzie and how he’d behaved that week, so she wasn’t afraid of sounding too clingy when she said, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” As true that week as any other.

“Me too.” Vic said. “Is it pathetic that I’ve been so nervous that I needed a friend of mine to keep me from completely freaking out?”

“No!” Eliza said. “It’s good that you’re willing to share that. And I’m flattered that you would be so worried about this date.”

“It’s strange. She said almost the same thing.” Vic smiled. “Anyway, enough about that.” Their discussion continued in the same veins as the week before and Eliza didn’t remember what she’d ordered for dinner a few minutes later and barely noticed what she was eating when it arrived. She was too busy talking to Vic. The problem was that whenever they got into details about her life, she had trouble making sure that everything agreed. It was even worse when they talked about things that she as Eliza had discussed with him and several times that evening, Vic commented how his friend Eliza had said the same thing.

Eliza was also having difficulty eating. Despite enjoying her food and Vic’s company, her Lizzie costume squeezed her fat into her abdomen, making consumption of any food uncomfortable. She smiled apologetically at the waiter when he took her mostly full plate and only asked for coffee when Vic ordered dessert. If I’m his girlfriend for very long, I may lose some weight. She thought.

When the check came, Vic tried to take it. “No, that’s fine,” he said when he saw Lizzie reaching for it.

“I think I ought to pay for my half.”

“Really, let me.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds and Vic smiled sheepishly. “Fine.” He put down his half and Eliza did the same. He got up and offered Lizzie a hand to rise, but before she could take it, he said, “Wait! I almost forgot.” He took a slim camera out of his pocket. “Do you think it’d be weird if I wanted a picture?”

“You mean to show people when we get married?” Lizzie asked playfully. “Here we are on our first date and that?”

“Uhhh…” Vic looked even more embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it to be like that. It’s just that you’re so beautiful and I really have a good feeling about this and-“

Eliza reached up and put a finger on his lips. She slid to the end of the booth and patted the cushion. “Sit down. I’d love to.” It wasn’t until she felt the warmth of his body next to her and the comforting embrace of his arm around her that Eliza thought about how flustered he’d been. Now that he was so close to her, she couldn’t help but almost grin as Vic held the camera out in his free hand. She hoped she didn’t look too lovestruck. When he turned the camera around so she could see, Eliza saw Vic with an attractive blonde girl. Both of them were smiling warmly and seemed totally at ease with being so close. The warm feeling of seeing herself with Vic acting so naturally close to him kept her from reaching out as he removed his arm from around her shoulders and got up.

Eliza was walking on air as she took his hand and followed him out to his car. She thought nothing of telling him where she lived and letting him drive her home and when he got out to escort her to her front door, she didn’t think about how she’d led him to the real her’s house nor of how his gentlemanly behavior eroded her feminine independence. For tonight she was a lady. His lady. They stood on her doorstep, staring into each other’s’ eyes again. She knew what she wanted to do but almost froze as she saw he was thinking the same thing. Oh god! He actually wants to kiss me! On the first date! She knew she shouldn’t. That even if Eliza had known Vic for years, Lizzie had only met him a week ago. On the other hand, she’d made no secret when acting as Lizzie that she was interested in something long term and Vic had told Eliza he’d felt like he wanted the same. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

All this was a moot point because as she made the decision to go for it, she found that Vic’s arms were already around her middle, hers around his and that their lips had been pressed together for at least thirty seconds. In fact, it might have been the feeling of light headedness that had finished her internal monologue early. She leaned back and gasped for breath. “Vic! This is a bit fast, isn’t it?” Vic tried to let her go and step back, obviously ready to apologize. Eliza smiled predatorily and took the opportunity to bend him over the porch railing. “I didn’t say I wanted to stop.”

They continued their passionate embrace, each one diving back in whenever the other seemed to be about to stop. Eventually they knew they had to let go and Vic was back in his car waving at Eliza, who continued to lean against the front door long after he’d left. She needed time to come to grips that in the course of a short week, she’d disguised herself as someone pretty, seduced the boy she’d been after for years and ended her first date with a protracted makeout session. Life was good. She sighed once more and entered the house, careful to make sure that her parents had gone to bed. They had and she returned to her room unseen. It was then that she realized that Vic hadn’t said a word about how he’d dropped his girlfriend off at the house of his study partner, two people who claimed to have never met. Whether because he hadn’t noticed in the dark or simply didn’t want to spoil the night with accusations, Eliza didn’t know or care.

Eliza watched Lizzie carefully get undressed and then raise a hand to her neck. The hand fell back down to her side. Vic had kissed those lips and touched this skin. Eliza didn’t want to take off the flesh that had been so close to Vic’s just yet, despite the ache in her belly. Instead, she used one of her ‘Eliza’ T-shirts as a night shirt and climbed into bed. She knew that though Eliza’s dreams were many and varied, Lizzie would dream only about Vic.

“Eliza! Breakfast is getting cold. Eliza, were you really out that — who are you?”

Eliza usually woke up fast and early, but it really had been that late a night and she blinked sleepily at her mother. She felt kind of weird. “Morning, mom.” Then she realized why she felt strange and why her mother was looking at her the way she was. She couldn’t be blamed for being surprised at finding a slim beauty in the bed of her daughter who was cute in a slightly overweight way. “Just a sec.” Eliza pushed on her neck. “Hi — hither green — one more moment.” She fished under her bed and found the sheet. When the costume was loosening and her voice became normal, she addressed the shocked parent. “It’s me. Really, it is.”

Eliza’s mom leaned out the door, “Hector. Give us a few minutes. Women’s problems.” She closed the door. “What’s going on, hon? Why the …” she gestured at the now tightly stretched Lizzie suit. “…this?”

Eliza took a deep breath and told her mother everything from when she’d decided to try the disguise to the previous night, tugging the mask off partway in when she saw how uncomfortable her mother was. She also had to pull off the panties she’d been wearing and switch to looser shorts as her proportions finished taking on their usual shape.

“Wow.” Her mom said. “Just… I mean, there’s doing a stupid thing for a boy, but this really takes it.” She sat down next to Eliza and put her arm around her. “Kiddo, you know this isn’t right.”

Eliza blinked back tears. “Of course it’s not right. But I love Vic and he loves me. I mean, Lizzie is just me in a nicer package. I thought maybe if I got him interested, I could make him see the real me.” She smiled and sniffed. “He really is head over heels, mom.”

Her mother hugged her closer. “So when do you tell him? If he’s so taken with you, you don’t need this do you?”

Eliza looked away. “I like it, though.” She whispered. “I like being me and yet being someone everyone looks at. Not in the ‘look at the fat girl’ way but in the ‘look at that really beautiful woman’ way. I don’t feel bad being me, but I feel better being her.”

“I understand. I can’t fault you for enjoying that feeling. Lord knows I’ve felt better when I knew I could turn heads. What about Vic, though? You can’t string him along like that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Falkner said the same thing.” Eliza looked at her computer. “I bet if I checked my email right now, there’ll be a message telling me that if my date went well, I should tell Vic before it goes any further. You’re right, mom. I actually sort of wish it’d been harder to get his attention, that I’d have to dress up in this thing a few more times to hook him, but that’s not how it is. I’ll tell him on our next date. “

Eliza’s mother rubbed her shoulders and got up. “Good girl. Now why don’t you get out of that and have some breakfast?”

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I love you.”

“So, how was your date?” Eliza asked when Vic sat down across from her for one of their study sessions.

Vic looked at her for a moment, and then smiled. “It was great. Thanks for suggesting the camera. Want to see?”

Eliza leaned forward and looked at the picture Vic had taken. She felt the same warmth and joy at seeing it this time as she had the first. “You two make a cute couple.” She said.

“I’m really comfortable with her,” Vic said. “I think I already told you, but I feel like I’ve known her forever.” He laughed. “Then again, she seems to share a lot in common with you, so that’s no surprise.”

“Sounds like a smart girl,” Eliza grinned. “And a good match.”

“Yeah, she is.” Vic seemed lost in thought for a minute. “She really is.”

“Do you have another date set up yet?”

“Oh, yeah. I messaged her yesterday and we’re going to Jim and Leo’s this weekend.”

“Can you afford that?” Eliza asked, doing her best to feign surprise. She’d been properly impressed when he’d offered dinner there to Lizzie.

“For her, I’ll manage.” He looked away and then back at Eliza. “I was thinking of framing the picture in a pendant and giving it to her. Do you think that’s a good idea on a second date?”

“It sounds really nice,” Eliza said. She’d wanted something like that and she felt a bittersweet feeling in her throat at the thought that if she told Vic the truth that night and he walked out on her, at least she’d have that to remember her brief happiness with him. Neither of them noticed for a moment that Eliza had put her hand on Vic’s. She pulled back and blushed, and Vic looked at her for a long moment before shrugging.

“I hope Lizzie thinks the same way. We’ve been going fast, but I’m still afraid of scaring her off.”

“Trust me, it’s sweet.” Eliza replied.

“I’m really nervous about this.” Vic said. “What should I wear?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll look great in anything, sweetie.” Eliza replied absently, thinking more about her math problem than Vic at that moment.

“Uh…”

Eliza colored, then said, “I mean, I’m sure she’ll think you’re sweet in anything.”

“Uh-huh.” Vic said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Later that week, Eliza was watching Vic on the track and waiting for him to finish so they could study together again when Kim sat down next to her. “All right, what’s going on?”

“Hm?” Eliza grunted, turning away from watching Vic.

“Liz, don’t try to pretend that something hasn’t happened. You look at him like you already own him. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you and it doesn’t make sense. I’m happy that you’re happy, but you’ve got to spill what’s in the works.” Kim touched Eliza’s arm. “BFFs, remember?”

Eliza looked around. “All right,” she whispered, “but don’t tell anyone, OK?”

“Cross my heart,” Kim said, doing so.

“Vic and I are dating.”

“WHAT?” Kim shouted.

“Way to be discreet,” Eliza said deadpan.

“Liz, this is big! Really big! I mean, how? Why? When?”

“Subterfuge, because we love each other and our first date was last weekend.”

Kim’s brow wrinkled. “That can’t be right. Rumor is that Vic was dating some mystery girl he was head over heels with. Someone he met a week or two back named — ooooh.” Kim cleared her throat. “Uh, Liz, the rumor is that his new girlfriend is even more his type than usual. Wasp figure, nice rack, the works.”

Eliza winked. “I clean up nicely when I want to.” She got up. “Vic’s done. Keep this quiet for awhile. Neither of us are ready to let anyone else know.” Hell, but I’m not ready to let Vic know yet. She thought.

Lizzie looked back and Eliza once again as she stood admiring herself in the mirror. Eliza couldn’t help it. Even now, as nervous as she was, Lizzie looked confident and hot. She looked good and felt good. Eliza could never have imagined ever looking as good naked as Lizzie did and she felt the confidence that came with the sure knowledge that disguised as she was, she could turn the head of any heterosexual male in town. She only looked better as she fastened up her underwear and pulled a light dress over her head. She’d decided that if she was going to come out to Vic that night, she’d spend the day getting ready physically and mentally. That meant it was time for Lizzie to go shopping again. Between the new makeup and clothes she’d buy and the attention she’d get while doing it, she’d be as strong as she could be that night when she admitted to Vic that the slim figure and perfect proportions were a lie. She just hoped she would be strong enough to take whatever came after.

The click of her heels, the swish of her dress as her hips moved back and forth with her stride. Everything felt better when she was Lizzie. More right. She waved, giggled and smiled her way to the mall and had so much fun buying what she needed that she was surprised when everything was in a big bag and she was ready to leave. She saw Vic exiting a high end men’s clothing store and decided to give him a surprise. As silently as her heels would allow her, she stalked Vic until she was just behind him, then dropped her bag and put her hands around him. “Surprise, sweetie!”

Vic dropped his own bag and turned around in Lizzie’s arms. “Hi!” He returned the embrace and leaned in for a deep kiss. “I was hoping I’d surprise you with what I was wearing.”

“I won’t look in your bag if you don’t look in mine,” Lizzie said, winking.

Their hands seemed to have a life of their own as they found each other and their fingers twined together. Lizzie walked with Vic out to his car and graciously accepted a ride home. She knew that she was a fool to trust her luck twice in that, but with Vic’s hand on hers and the feel of his lips still fresh, she had to admit that she was a fool. She didn’t really care. Vic pulled up and Eliza saw that Vic was as deep as she was and hadn’t noticed where he’d stopped. She kissed him goodbye and it broke her heart to think that she could have stayed Lizzie forever and he’d never have noticed the odd mistakes and hints. In that moment the resolve she was looking for solidified. She would tell him that night. She couldn’t have his love at that cost. It would feel like love most of the time, but those moments like these where she saw clearly would be too much. She waved and quickly went into her house. She had to hide from that smile, those eyes. She couldn’t face them with those thoughts in her mind.

Vic called her that evening. “Do you mind if we met at my house?”

Eliza’s heart raced. “I’m not going to meet your parents, am I?” She said, trying to sound like she was making a joke.

“I thought we might wait for the third or fourth date,” Vic said, sounding amused. “No, I — I have something to show you.”

They traded sweet nothings before Eliza hung up. She was almost finished getting dressed and snapped the buckles on her new blue heels before putting the last touches on her evening makeup and starting out. Vic’s house wasn’t so far that she was afraid, and he was waiting for her at the door. “You look amazing,” he said, taking in the knee length blue silk dress, the narrow straps and hair which Eliza had spent over an hour forcing it to go up in a twist before spilling down over her shoulders.

“You’re looking handsome tonight, yourself,” she replied. He was. Vic had obviously taken pains with his perfectly ironed black jacket, completely smooth face and freshly washed hair.

“My parents went out tonight themselves. I just wanted you to come in for a moment.”

“OK.” Eliza wasn’t sure what Vic wanted, but she followed him in. She continued to follow him and started to understand when he led her to a door and opened it, motioning her to follow him in. Eliza had never been invited into Vic’s room; she knew he was very private about that. She wasn’t sure how much to show as Lizzie, since the slim blonde her didn’t know how much trust Vic was showing. Eliza understood why when she saw the pink painted walls, the obviously feminine clothes hanging in the closet and the plush four-poster bed. Eliza had never had such a girly room herself.

“It all belonged to my sister.” Vic said, looking firmly at the floor. “She was eighteen when she drowned. I was six and slept in what’s now my dad’s den. We all took it really hard and eventually I moved in here. I think my parents couldn’t stand cleaning it out or leaving it empty. I kept it clean and over time started sleeping in the bed. Mom broke down in tears the first time she saw me in Deborah’s prom dress. Mostly I just live here and take care of her things, but once in a while I’ll put some of it on and mom will help me with the makeup and for an hour or two, she’ll have Deborah back. Once or twice a year, we even go out. Somewhere no one will recognize us.” He turned and looked hard at Lizzie. “You’re the first person other than my parents who’s been in here since she died. I … I couldn’t tell anyone else, but I’m so sure you’re the one. That you’d understand.”

Eliza stood frozen in place. What Vic had shown her — that trust. She began to cry and hugged Vic close. She’d wanted to tell him over dinner, when they were talking and laughing and it felt right. But it felt right now. She couldn’t let something like this pass without being honest in her turn, and she only had one thing to repay him with. She said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know whether she meant dressing up as Lizzie or what had happened to Vic’s sister.

“It’s something I usually don’t think about, but I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it from you if we were going to be so serious about each other.”

“I know,” Eliza said, pulling away, “and I have something to tell you.” She closed her eyes. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Vic sat on the bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Please.”

Eliza sat and rested her head on his shoulder. “My secret isn’t so different from yours.” She sighed. “I — I’ve been watching you for such a long time. I’ve wanted you to notice me, but it was always just friendship. I had to try.”

“What are you talking about?” Vic asked.

“Vic, I’m Eliza.” She said. “I found this — this disguise. So I could be someone you’d notice. Someone you’d want.”

She felt Vic freeze up and saw that he was staring at the wall. After a minute, she was afraid she’d have to call an ambulance or slap him, but then he said, “I should explain. Right now I’m fighting a battle on whether I should storm out or kiss you.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Eliza said quietly.

Vic’s jaw clenched. “Holy fuck, Eliza. When you answer a man’s question, you don’t mess around.”

“What?” Eliza’s brow furrowed.

“I asked last month why none of my girlfriends were as nice or interesting as you. And then you asked what the all had in common and I couldn’t answer.” He looked at her and smiled weakly. “I think I get it.” He laughed, a sound tinged with pain. “I wish I could argue with you. Apart from a brown haired girl I liked in first grade, though, I’m totally stumped.” He looked around his room. “Deb looked like you do now. Maybe I just wanted to give my parents a daughter in law that looked like her. I guess I figured if I could do that, I’d be free from having to be her for them. She hasn’t asked in over a year, but there’s always been the expectation that she’ll want one more mother-daughter session before I go to college. Before this room gets closed up again and stays that way. We made a promise, you see, that when I went to college we’d stop trying to bring her back. I know mom’s really looking forward to it.”

Eliza got up. “I’d better go.”

“No.” Vic touched her arm. “We have a date, Eliza.” He smiled and stroked her cheek. “Would you feel more comfortable being you or being Lizzie?”

Eliza smiled back and leaned into his touch. “How about we go out this way and then go out for coffee somewhere with me being me? We’ll be late to dinner otherwise.”

Vic linked arms with her. “All right.” He closed the door behind them. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being patient. And then for opening my eyes when I dragged my feet. Oh, and for not going crazy when you found out how twisted I am.”

Eliza laughed. “It’s sweet. In a really really needs therapy sort of way. Besides, you said yourself that it’s winding down. I never noticed despite being around you most days, so it can’t have taken over your life.” She brushed his lips with hers. “If you promise not to dress as a pretty girl, I’ll do the same.”

“Eliza, you are pretty. You’re just not her.” Vic made a face. “I think dating my sister isn’t very healthy anyway. Come on, let’s go.”

Their dinner conversation had fewer laughs but more depth. The restaurant had a small dance floor and when Vic paid the bill, they spent half an hour in each other’s arms. When the band was playing
Love to Make Music By, Vic drew a slender gold chain with a heart-shaped pendant at the end out of his pocket. “You already know what this is, you dirty cheater,” he said, grinning without a trace of sadness or pain for the first time that night. “It seems a little weird, though. I mean, how are we supposed to show this to people and say it was our first date?”

Eliza laughed and took it from him, fastening it around her neck. “We can say, ‘look how hard I worked to get him. I really loved the blockhead.’”

Vic snorted. “Women.”

“Transvestites.” She countered.

“Cheap shot.”

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah. So back to your house to change into something more comfortable and then maybe we’ll go to the Espresso Café for dessert.” He paused, then chuckled. “How did I miss that sign? You being dropped off at your house whenever I drove you home.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. Sounds right.”

When they were outside her house and Vic was about to get out of the car to help Eliza, he put his hand on her knee. “I know it’s weird, but I’m curious. Can I see the costume once you have it off?”

“Why Vic!” Eliza giggled. “It’s only our second date and you want to see me naked.” She winked. “Let’s wait a little while before we go that far.”

Vic blushed. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Eliza kissed him. “I know.”

When Eliza had changed out of Lizzie and into one of her normal size dresses, she felt self-conscious sitting next to Vic in his car. “Does it feel weird now?”

Vic patted her on the leg. “Not at all, hon. You were pretty much you no matter how you looked.” He glanced at her. “Honestly, Eliza, I feel better going out with you this way. I was starting to feel guilty going with Lizzie. I mean, every time we studied together or went on a date, I felt like I was cheating on one with the other. It didn’t feel fair on you that I was dating your mental doppelganger while having never even considered you before and I enjoyed talking to you so much that having her do the same made me feel like I wasn’t including you in something.”

“I’m still amazed you’re taking it so well.”

“And I’m shocked that you haven’t called the men in white coats on me. I’m obsessive, you’re obsessive and we’ve both done things that were unhealthy for love. Maybe we’ll be good for each other.”

When they stopped and Vic helped Eliza out of the car, she put her arm around him as they walked and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’ve already got what I want. What about you?”

“I think it’s a step in the right direction,” he said.

“Your mom won’t mind?”

“She likes you. Maybe if you hang around long enough, she’ll start taking you out instead of me.” He stopped and gently turned Eliza so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I love you. I loved you as Lizzie and I love you as Eliza. That’s not something I could really say about the others. I liked them, I had fun with them, but I didn’t feel like I could talk to them like I do to you. I didn’t show them why I wanted them around. I’m being selfish in some ways, Eliza. I don’t want to be the daughter anymore and I’m just as hopeful that you’ll take that place as I was with them. Is that all right?”

Eliza leaned in and kissed him. “It means I’ll be part of your family. That’s just fine with me.”

Growing Up Kitty
By Paul Calhoun

It was a clear and sunny day shining down with nothing occluding the deep blue stretching from horizon to horizon. If there had been, the weather control board of Sector 8B of Arcology Tiger-Meridian would have been sent a very sharp note by the Mothers for Healthy Teens of 8B, who had scheduled a pool party that day. The waist high wrought iron fence painted a cheery white was wholly unnecessary but leant a suburban atmosphere that helped set the mood along with the oldies blaring from the speakers and the knots of teens sunbathing, eating snacks, and most importantly getting their daily recommended quantity of healthful exercise swimming and playing – but not in an unwholesome way – in the water. It was a little silly since the oldest of the ‘teens’ were thirty and almost ready to get their degrees and housing allocation, but the Burb Arcologies took life slow. They might as well; the kids’ great-great grandparents, geezers of one hundred and seventy plus were scheduled for the next day and by the looks of things they’d live another century or more.

None of this was on Carter’s mind, however. It was a comfortable background awareness that was a fact of life. What he was focused on was the slender girl emerging from the pool. Water streamed from Kitty’s sun bleached hair and down her body, beading in interesting places and flying in sparkling droplets as she turned her head suddenly and the long hair sent a shower in Carter’s direction. She was smiling white teeth against lightly tanned skin, and walked with a confidence that belied her slender frame. It was the summer before her junior year in primary college, so she was twenty and in a bizarre bit of legal confusion an adult despite being nowhere near her housing allocation age or even primary college diploma. It was Carter’s first summer out of high school, eighteen and just grown into his technical adulthood and effective late teenage phase. He’d had a crush on his cousin Kitty since before his ‘little accident’ as his family put it. Her family and his were very close, and he’d seen her regularly growing up. They weren’t first cousins, but some relation that was part blood, part marriage, and very much a feature of living in such a tight knit community. Everyone was related somehow, and though there was a bit of a social awkwardness to knowing that the person you fancied was closely enough related to still be able to trace the connection without a map, it wasn’t a huge roadblock. In fact, Carter wondered if the fact that he was so attracted to his cousin wasn’t partly because they were so close, both in relation and upbringing.

It also helped that he commiserated with her own ‘little mistake’ that had left her slender and him small. It was an irony that they looked closer to how their great-grandparents must have when they were in the same effective school grade than their peers. Years of pre-K and then pre-pre-K and then finally a throwing up of hands and admission that with lifespans reaching into the third century nobody was in a hurry to do anything had caused the first four years of college just being post-high school to finally become an established fact, meaning that a degree was only awarded after four years of secondary college. Of course they could do most of the things their ancestors could at that age; it was just that there was so much to learn these days. It also was decided that it helped even things out if the serious learning began well after puberty, so the kids would actually focus. Junior high school was just marking time until their hormones subsided and they could get back to paying attention to the teacher instead of their developing classmates anyway, so a lot of communities skipped that in favor of ‘socialization school’ where the worst of the budding teens’ antisocial behavior could be monitored and eliminated.

His ‘accident’ was a clerical error at the pharmacy that swapped his HOA approved Supplement for Eleven Year Olds of a Specific Weight for his father’s first few Gentle Rejuve for Middle Age capsules. Of course his father was nowhere near the real middle age. He was barely seventy. By the time the error had been detected, Carter had been on Rejuve for two months. Luckily the side effects were comparatively mild; rather than being de-aged into oblivion, the chemicals had merely soaked into his tissues to release very slowly but for a very long time. Even now most of his classmates towered over him and he’d only just started growing facial hair. His voice hadn’t even begun to break, and he was far too embarrassed to compare his … other … development with his classmates though from what he’d seen online he was actually pretty normal down there. They’d teased him at first until Mitchell accidentally took an entire six-month regimen of his mother’s Menopause Solution treatments. After a lot of thought and consultation with the Sector’s doctors and psychologists, she’d eventually returned to the school as one of the most athletically gifted cheerleaders ever. The gender balance had even been maintained after Darci juiced up on illegal performance enhancers for track and ended up becoming Michelle’s boyfriend and quite the beefy third-baseman for the baseball team. Their families had been bemused, but ultimately supportive. Gender fluidity was a common thing though it usually began later in life, and after a great deal of investigation, the Sector’s Friendly Family Physician Franchise had lost their license. Unfortunately not before Kitty was misdiagnosed with early onset puberty and given a retardant that had set her back three to five years. Consequently she looked like an athletically slim sixteen if people were generous – most mistook her for fourteen- Carter looked fourteen but sounded twelve, Mitchell was a confident brunette, and Darci usually reacted to criticism of his weight by smashing the nearest brick wall. Mitchell looked good in a bikini, though, Carter thought as his former dodgeball teammate walked by. It was funny how he was so voluptuous when Kitty was two years older and might possess a curved hip in the right light, and whose yellow full-vest bathing suit top was filled out by almost B-cup breasts.

Kitty’s yellow and blue bikini bottom showed off a just-starting-to fill out rear, which kept Carter mesmerized until she waved to her friends and jogged into the changing room. Carter jumped out of the pool to follow – not into the girls’ room but to his own since if her family was leaving soon so would his. His parents would leave the pool whether he was in the car or not – freerange parenting was a big fad these days, but a false one since the most dangerous thing in the Sector was Mrs. McCreedy’s slightly deranged Scotch terrier. Even the UV rays were strained out by an invisible aerosol spray that also chased off the clouds for the duration. The only thing that hurt the precious flower buds of Sector 8B was the rampant negligence, including the occasional misaimed microwave laser meant for the power plant. In an age where humans controlled everything, human error was the top cause of deaths, maiming, psychological harm, violent discorporation, exsanguination, chemical mutation, and rashes. It was a far more interesting way to grow up than the perfect lawns, smiling suburbanites, and ice cream socials first suggested.

Kitty ran out past him before he even got to the entrance, flashing him that smile and sending a fragrant breeze over his wet, shivering body. Her hair was dry and perfectly styled as if she’d never gotten it wet, and her clothes – a long loose skirt and a tight T-shirt that she hadn’t been wearing when she arrived – were also completely dry. Carter was amazed by how quickly she’d gotten changed and freshened up. The mysteries of women just got more mysterious. Rather than go to her family, she joined a knot of girls who’d also gotten themselves ready to leave in advance and the ring of young female conversation took on a greater harmony. Her voice was actually pretty normal for a twenty-year-old, perhaps a little more youthful than she ought to be. Carter thought that the medications they’d been given had definitely not worked uniformly – not that it was any surprise since neither of them had taken something meant for them. Thankfully it seemed to have skipped their brains entirely, and as the girls put it, Carter’s second brain. This was nice since it meant neither had been required to be held back until their mental ages started advancing again, though of course it meant being advanced along with kids who looked older. While his accident had frozen his voice, hers seemed to have been spared, which probably helped her image a lot when she was trying to seem older. A late blooming body could be overlooked a lot more easily with a confident and assured mature soprano coming out of the adorable, girl-next-door face. He also thought that she might shave – unlike him – but he had also grown a bit faster than her but not at the normal rate either, leaving them the same height.

Carter gulped, fighting a compulsion he knew he’d give in to. He remembered years ago when he and Kitty both looked their ages and he’d snuck into the changing room to play with himself and pull her bathing suit out of the hamper to touch and use to pretend he was really touching Kitty. He was just beginning to experiment and the feel of the bikini bottom was cool on his hot flesh. They’d grown up since then, but her suits didn’t look very different and Carter was drawn to reliving the fantasy of finally getting up the nerve to ask Kitty out and maybe one day actually be able to touch her for real. It would be at a party like this. They’d sneak off and the cold squelch of their suits pressing together would contrast deliciously with the heat of their skin. Then their suits wouldn’t be in the way and all of a sudden Carter realized he was in the girls’ changing room and was thanking all fortune that nobody else was there. He saw the strap of Kitty’s bottom peeking out from a basket she’d no doubt have to retrieve later on, nestled inside a lockable changing room. He ran in and was breathing heavily as he leaned against the door, the click of the lock filling him with relief that he was safe.

His heart hammered and his hands shook as he opened the lid and lifted out the panty-like object, Kitty’s underwear in almost every way. His trunks were uncomfortably tight, but even as he let them fall around his ankles he saw something that made him momentarily forget that he was holding something that had been so close to a part of Kitty that Carter longed to touch. Under the vest top, the light shoulder shrug, and the denim shorts was something pale gold and shining in the LED lit changing room. He reached in to pull out whatever it was, and his first impression of touching the soft, wet strands was that it was a wig. Maybe that’s how she gets her hair so nice after swimming. She’s got some sort of swim cap with her own hair on top. It was a strange idea, but he’d heard of weirder things women would do to look beautiful and put-together. It was worth the trouble, he thought, considering how she’d exited the changing room with perfect poise and aplomb as if she were walking out of her own house. It even looked like he had her makeup done – what?! He’d gotten a tighter grip because it wasn’t just a wig – it was too heavy for that. He’d grasped it lower down and felt something harder pressing into his palm and when he saw what it was he dropped the whole thing and fell back onto a wooden bench attached to the wall. He’d had a handful of Kitty’s boob! Trying to swallow and cautiously approaching the wicker basket again, Carter dragged out whatever it was – trying and failing to find a part of Kitty to grab that didn’t feel wrong – and laid it on the bench. He felt like his eyes were going to pop out at the sight of the empty but completely real looking skin of his cousin and crush. His gaze was fixed on parts of her that he’d never been able to see before, try as he might to tear away. Carter knew it was wrong to stare, but having her unnaturally youthful twenty-year-old body laid out like that was such an opportunity that he couldn’t help it.

Tentatively, still shaking from fear, desire, excitement, and even a little disgust at himself, he reached out and surprised himself by pushing a finger into the soft squishy belly button on the flat Kitty skin’s trim, taut midriff. He’d always thought she had an adorable navel, and wasn’t really ready for the mental violation he’d feel from satisfying his baser instincts. It wasn’t long, though, before he was sating his boyish curiosity – he’d never even had a girlfriend before much less touched a woman this way – and squeezing the skin’s nipples between finger and thumb. He knew that such skinsuits were illegal to own without a permit and that it was very unlikely that Kitty’s parents had gone to the trouble of filling out the lengthy and expensive forms necessary for her to possess one. Not that it was too hard to smuggle contraband into the Sector – there were plenty of other arcologies where such things were in free use and he was almost impressed that she’d only gone so far as buying one of her own body rather than making ‘improvements’ or getting a skinsuit of someone totally different. She probably owned it more for the thrill of having something illicit and the convenience of being able to stay dry in the pool or clear skinned in the hot sun. His hands were traveling down now, tracing lower lips and the folds around them. He was disappointed to find nothing more than an outline but of course Kitty wouldn’t need that. It was more detailed than it needed to be already. The skin was so smooth and silky that he wanted it all over his body, and when his hand passed over the slit running from her left hip to her armpit he decided to surrender to the inevitable.

He sat down on the wooden bench, feeling despite what he was about to do that it would be somehow disrespectful to let the skinsuit that looked so much like Kitty touch the ground too much. He pushed both feet into the hole at the same time, studiously not paying attention to where he grabbed the suit to pull the legs over his and get his feet all the way down. The skinsuit stretched easily, and Carter sat for a long moment with Kitty’s calves and feet smoothly sitting over his, kicking and wondering if her bones stuck out as much as his did and worrying that his feet were a little bigger than hers. His legs which always seemed stick-thin and embarrassingly underdeveloped looked charmingly long and coltish under Kitty’s bronzed skin, transformed less in form than in context. The skinsuit was smoothed up to his thighs now and he stopped breathing at the feel and sight of his cock – he thought fully developed for his eighteen years despite the rest of his body but of course he never knew – slowly poking out and then pushing fully out of Kitty’s fleshy lips and smooth curved mound. The Rejuve seemed to have worn off in some places but not others and for the first time in his life Carter wished that his balls had stayed like his height and voice. Kitty’s pussy looked weird enough with a shaft much less a dangling pair.

The Kitty suit’s buttocks cradled his with a gap he could feel where her development had finally started to catch up. Though she was nowhere near as full as she know doubt would be, her feminine ass was still bigger than his and Carter had no way of fixing that. His erection was painful, twitching, but ignored. He had to see how well the suit would fit him. He gave it one last tug over his hips and then had to duck and contort himself to reach into Kitty’s right arm and blindly thrash until he felt his fingers going into hers. His hands hadn’t caught up with his nethers and was still small palmed and nimble or else he would have given Kitty man hands. With those still slender fingers, he grasped the mask’s cheeks to steady it and with several shakes of his head worked his way up into the full head mask. Not yet ready to do the finishing adjustments, he tucked his left arm in, got it down into the suit’s, and pulled the zipper up, noting how the zipper itself was small and hid under a slightly raised freckle in her left armpit. He fidgeted and pushed at the suit’s belly and chest, for the moment doing his best to ignore what it looked like he was doing and instead focusing on making sure that the suit’s navel entered his and her nipples were around where his were. It wasn’t a perfect fit especially over the chest where her long overdue budding breasts had reached somewhere a little past an A – his impression of her being further along seemed to be mostly due to him not daring to look too hard – which meant the suit left a sizable gap there as well. He didn’t think it was too noticeable from the outside, but was painfully aware of the air between his chest and hers from the inside.

He prodded at the mask until Kitty’s slightly fuller lips that framed her narrower mouth stretched and settled over his, the nostrils lined up, and her ears were sitting over his. The skinsuit’s eyelids found their way over his on their own and with a shudder Carter realized that it was time to see how well the purloined suit fit him. Shivering mostly from nervous anticipation and a little bit from the clammy pool water that squelched along the innards of the suit where he hadn’t dried off before he put it on, he turned around to look at the mirror – a ubiquity in women’s facilities it seemed. A single wide-eyed impression had the near-perfect reflection of Kitty grabbing the dick between her legs – brushing a shock of light hair that suggested that yes, she did shave - in soft slender fingers and a combination of seeing her do it and feeling the sweetly unfamiliar grasp had him breathing heavily and scrabbling for her bikini bottom so he could relive a much more intense version of that day so many years ago when he’d had to rinse another pair so like these out after getting overexcited. The naked, somewhat underdeveloped twenty-year-old girl with the mostly fully developed eighteen-year-old penis swinging between her legs hastily stepped into the stretchy swimsuit bottoms and pulled them up, gasping at the tightness across her rear and the cool softness of the mesh now cradling his balls and shaft. He knew now that they’d only ever touched the very same skin he wore, though perhaps when she spread her legs for a breaststroke or ran around some of that intimate apparel might have darted in to touch the real girl inside. It didn’t matter. It was hers and he was her and the erection the Kitty in the mirror had was so big that he could look down through the first hints of cleavage and see some of it where the tent had stretched the swimsuit so much that the elastic waistband no longer made contact in the front.

Carter turned so that Kitty appeared to be looking at him over her shoulder, the unfortunate extra between her legs hidden by her small but serviceably round and wide rear covered in yellow and white stretchy swimsuit. She twisted so that her bare breasts – Carter paused. It wasn’t quite the image he wanted yet. Kitty looked great topless but in his fantasies she would never start out that way. “Tease.” He whispered to himself amorously as he bent to scoop up the vest top. It was bright yellow with no zipper, needing no adjustment or give to stretch over Kitty’s lack of protrusion. He pulled it on over her head and squirmed into the tight top, giving it several tugs on the bottom hem in a deliciously feminine adjustment that pulled it down just over the lowest rib. Her arms were bare, but her chest was covered entirely, as were her shoulders. She twisted again and this time it was Kitty in her swimsuit smiling back at him, a smile heavily tinged with tight, pent-up need. She brushed her long, sunbleached hair over one shoulder and then the Kitty mannerisms overcame him and her hands dove to her swimsuit. One inside to let the soft hand stroke his cock directly and the other on the outside to grind the still slightly cool mesh against what the hand didn’t reach. From the angle in the mirror that he could see, it looked like Kitty was staring at him longingly as she fingered herself. It was a disappointingly short time – he hadn’t even tried seeing what she looked like with her hand snaking up into her top – before the bikini bottom was filled with sticky white fluid. It just kept pumping, though, as images of Carter as Kitty washing it out while still wearing it flooded his head, seeing her with her hands above her head in the shower and then pulling the waistband out to let his cum flow out with the water. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining her or him in the skinsuit, and he was brought back to reality – still a very enjoyable reality –with a panicked mental thump at the sound of a woman’s voice. “Kitty? We’re going! Come on!”

It was Kylie! Kitty’s older sister. Twenty-four and precocious in that she would probably have her degree and housing allotment this year, Kylie was everything Kitty would likely grow into when her mismatched hormones finally straightened themselves out. Flowing pure blonde hair that never seemed to get lighter after hours in the sun – Carter wondered if maybe there was a good reason for that – a near perfect complexion, a face like Kitty’s with a small nose, round cheeks, and wide eyes and yet fuller in every way. Then there was Kylie’s body. Everything seemed perfect, from her decimal pure waist to hip ratio, to her precisely-the-right-size breasts and perfectly proportioned behind. Kylie in a low cut top and tight jeans had been known to stop traffic and cause men from thirteen to three hundred to lose their concentration. Her allure was increased by the coquettish glance she often tossed over her shoulder, a frank awareness of her effect on men and the glee with which she caused chaos. Now she couldn’t find Kitty and – and Carter again knew that if he wasn’t bold he’d regret it forever. He was cornered anyway, and there was no point in trying to get out of this any other way. “Be right there!” He called out, using his still tight vocal cords to do a fair imitation of Kitty’s melodic soprano.

There wasn’t time to get cleaned up or even let himself become hard in anticipation of what he was about to do. The Kitty hands were brisk and businesslike as they pushed Carter’s shaft back and balls up, stretching her lower lips open and around and tucking his head over a fold of skin at the back so it would stay roughly in place long enough for the lips to close over everything. Carter looked down and saw the very end of the process, Kitty’s labia slowly engulfing his shaft and finally leaving only what looked like a soft feminine mound but was really a very hard maleness masquerading in a female shape just like the rest of him. It wouldn’t hold long, but it wouldn’t have to. Trusting the bathing suit – now full and sticky in a secret way that sent thrills up his spine – to keep things together if the skinsuit couldn’t for just long enough, Carter still kept her legs together as much as possible as she shuffled over to the hamper and grabbed the tight denim shorts. Still doing his best to keep her from spreading too much, he pulled the shorts up to her hips and again gave the familiar feminine tug, this time a couple times on the hem in back, cradling her reduced backside tightly and also providing a layer that his maleness wouldn’t easily expand out of. Feeling suddenly light and free, he picked up the shoulder shrug with a dancer’s pirouette and with another little twirl put her arms in the sleeves and buttoned the single button in front, framing the bright yellow vest top and the boobs she’d one day have.

Carter had never worn anything so tight, and yet the clingy girly clothing only made him feel more liberated. He could only just get her finger into the waistband of the shorts, and the slowly drying vest top seemed painted on now. He could have watched Kitty’s reflection probe and caress herself all day, exploring every fold and nook. A sharp rap of Kylie’s impatient heel on the concrete made Carter jump again, and he hurried out to meet ‘her sister’. The noise reminded him, though, that he didn’t have any shoes. He’d just have to hope Kylie and Kitty’s parents wouldn’t notice.

Kylie was already walking away having heard the changing room door. “What took you so long?” She asked as Kitty staggered a little and finally caught up to her. Carter hadn’t reckoned on how good it would feel to walk with Kitty’s legs pressed together, rubbing smoothly and squeezing her labia against his cock. It didn’t help that he suddenly realized that he could look at Kylie without her noticing anything wrong and that her butt looked very good in a miniskirt.

“Uh, Irina needed to talk to me.” Carter said, thinking that Kitty seemed to talk to her more than anyone. It was even harder now to keep up sounding like Kitty with Kylie’s swinging hips distracting him and the Kitty suit stroking the erection looking at Kylie gave him. It wouldn’t be long before even more jizz filled Kitty’s bathing suit.

Kylie turned around and looked Kitty up and down. Carter’s nervousness must have shown through the Kitty mask because Kylie took a step towards him and sniffed. “You didn’t change? Did you even take off the suit?” She hissed. “Yech! You’d better wash it out when we get home, Kit! You know I need it for my date with Hunter this afternoon. You’re such a ditz sometimes, sis.” She brushed her hair out with a smug smile. “Mine’s washed and dried and my pool clothes and bathing suit are already in the car, lazy. I hope your conversation with Irina was worth it, because you’re going to be busy when we get home.”

Busier than you think. Carter thought, amazed. If Kylie had her own suit and was borrowing Kitty’s then … “Don’t worry, Kylie,” he said breezily. Her expression suggested either doubt or that Kitty didn’t usually call her sister by her name. “I’ll have mine ready in time. Just leave yours in my room while I get mine washed and I’ll bring it over first thing. Promise.”

Kylie pulled Kitty to her side as they approached the car and put her arm around her in a sisterly hug that had Carter blushing so hard that he knew a little of it had to be bleeding through the mask. “You’d better.” She murmured, then let Kitty go and crossed around to the other side so they could get in at the same time.

“Did you have fun, girls?” Kitty’s father asked.

“Yes, dad.” They said, Kitty lagging a little.

“I didn’t see you talking to many boys.” Her mother said, sounding worried.

“Yeah, well…” Carter wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He knew a little about who Kitty liked, but tried not to get too involved since he wanted to pretend that she took an interest in him. “It’s … it’s not like they really notice me.” He said, trying to sound annoyed and hurt at the same time.

“Oh, sweetbun! Do we have to take you to the psychologist again for your self-esteem?”

“No, mom! It’s fine!” Kitty had often talked about how much she hated it when her mom decided her self-esteem needed work. “Really, I just wanted to be with the girls today.”

“There were some young bucks looking at you.” Her dad tried to sound assuring. “That Carter boy is nice.” Carter’s heart raced at the thought that Kitty’s dad thought he was boyfriend material.

Kylie snorted. “He’s a bit shrimpy.”

“He’s the right age and he has so much in common with you!” Her mom joined in. “And Kylie, don’t be mean. You know he has the same kind of problem as Kitty. He’ll grow out of it just like you will, sweetbun.”

“Can you all just stay out of my love life!” Carter protested, thinking it safe to assume that Kitty, like any young woman, didn’t want advice from her parents.

“All right, I was just saying that you’re not as plain as you think you are.” Carter wished he could agree with Kitty’s dad. Instead, he just crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, but gave Kitty’s parents a small smile. They knew it was pointless to try to keep on at her, and started talking to each other.

“I hope you grow soon.” Kylie said quietly, her lips so close to Carter’s Kitty covered ear that Carter had to fight down the urge to squeeze Kitty’s legs together. “Getting myself packed into that ironing board of a figure of yours is such a pain. That and having to be carded to get into a movie.”

“Carrying all that extra weight when I’m in yours isn’t that easy, either.” Carter shot back. It sounded like a familiar argument. In truth, he was glad to be in Kitty’s body. She might look very young for her age and sometimes have trouble with adult features, but at least she wasn’t turned away from teenage movies when she left the Sector. Everywhere but the local theater always assumed his ID was fake and he never got to go to the city with his friends when they went to the movies. They were too embarrassed to be part of the argument that always ended in Carter having to go home, red faced and grinding his teeth at the management’s refusal to believe he was eighteen – or in some cases even fourteen.

“You’ll be glad of the extra weight when you grow into yourself, sis.” Kylie said, sounding very smug again as she arched her back. “Knowing that all this is squeezed into your skin makes Hunter go crazy. Especially when we can sneak off and get out of it so he can feel them. You wouldn’t believe what he’s willing to do just for a quick touch.” Kylie glanced at their parents, who were busy watching the road and each other, and squeezed one breast, silently showing off her ‘sexy face.’ Carter knew she was trying to tease Kitty, so he put the best annoyed face he could on while secretly wishing Kylie was pretending to be aroused by him. Even having a hot girl like Kylie pretending to like him was better than nothing.

“I’m so happy to help.” Carter said sarcastically.

“Oh, you know you like being me.” Kylie said. “Especially the extra weight. I’ve seen you when you’ve got my suit on. Teasing those poor young things like you do. Don’t worry, though, I’ll let you have your fun. I’ll even swing by our ballet lessons and do your bit while I give some excuse for why I’m not there. Happy?”

Carter pretended to think about it, but for too long because Kylie started to tickle him. He knew it was just sisterly play, but he felt warmth between her legs as he finally couldn’t take it anymore, and when he got up the courage to fight back, the act of touching Kylie and making her giggle was almost too much for him. The melodious laugh, the shine in her eyes, the way a lock of her hair escaped and fell down her face. The way her breasts strained and bounced … Carter was relieved when Kitty’s mom turned around. “Girls! That’s enough. You’re distracting me.” Their mom admonished.

“You must have gotten more of a workout at the pool than it looked like.” Kylie said. “You’re breathing so hard.”

“Meanwhile you, young lady, didn’t do much more than flirt and lie in the sun.” Their father told her. “There is more to these events than the social and relaxation dimension. Now between the two of you, you’ve done the work of one good daughter.” His eyes danced. “I suppose I should be happy to have one good daughter even in two bodies. Speaking of which, sweetbun, quanti canicula ille in fenistra?”

A cold chill ran down Carter’s back. Kitty’s parents were always bothering her to practice her languages since they knew it was a weak spot in her grades. The problem was that he was even worse! “Uh, uh spero vili pretio canis?” He said, putting a pitiful hopefulness into his Kitty voice.

“Wow, sis, that was bad even for you.” Kylie said.

“Ky, don’t give her so much trouble.” Their mother said. “It’s not her fault she hasn’t got an ear for it. Harold, don’t go on so. Sweetbun, you’d better study when we get home. That was disappointing.”

“Yes, mom.” Carter said, trying to sound ashamed rather than relieved.

Carter was relieved when the conversation moved away from Kitty and he was able to remain mostly quiet through the rest of the trip. Their questioning and his feeble attempts to answer questions about Kitty’s day-to-day life had made him nervous and more aware of how uncomfortable it was getting to sit in a pool of cum trapped in Kitty’s bikini bottoms. Even her clothes were becoming uncomfortable – the tightness was getting to him, as well as having his aching dick bent back and stuffed into a much too small part of the suit. What had started as a sexy adventure was quickly turning on him and it was taking all of his will power not to scratch or tug at her shorts.

When they got out of the car and walked up the white gravel walk to the eggshell and gold door, Carter was fighting between the need to look normal and walk with Kitty’s legs closer together and the squelch of his cum that only got worse the less space he gave it. Kylie noticed how Kitty was walking strangely and looked down her coltish legs to her bare feet and back up. Carter gave her a weak smile, and as their parents pulled ahead, Kylie fell back with Carter, the boy in the girl suit actually recovering his feminine poise a little as he was distracted by how Kylie was staying so close that her chest was brushing his. “Are you all right?” She asked. “You’re a little bowlegged and your voice doesn’t sound right.”

“Kitty, honey? Doesn’t that hurt?” Their mother called out from her position on the porch.

“You’re standing on hot rocks, stupid.” Kylie said. “At least act like you can feel them.”

“Oh, ow!” Carter said, and Kitty’s mom shook her head and went in.

“Ditz.” Kylie said affectionately. “Don’t blow it for me by making it obvious that you’ve got a second skin on. Dad’s suspicious as it is without mom mentioning your little coal walk. Where are your sandals anyway?”

“I – I was in a hurry and forgot.” Carter said as Kylie closed the door. He was sweating despite them now being in the air conditioned house. Kylie was looking more and more critically at the girl suited boy she thought was her sister.

“You – ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” Kylie covered her mouth with long fingered, pink nailed hands. Carter shrank back, expecting her to ask him where the real Kitty was. He was about to explain everything when she put her hands down and he saw she looked excited and delighted. “Sis! You’ve had your first real period! That’s why you had to change back to your swimsuit and have been so weird.”

“Uh…” Carter wasn’t sure he’d do Kitty any favors, but Kylie was sweeping him along.

“Now you really need to clean that suit out before you give it to me. Do you need something for the cramps? When can we tell mom?”

“I’m not sure-“

“I remember getting a little forgetful my first couple times.” Kylie was gushing. “Don’t worry about it; I think it’s a family thing. This is so great! You might even have boobs by next year. Real ones, I mean.” Carter felt like he ought to get angry on Kitty’s behalf, but it was too late. They were in front of Kitty’s room and Kylie was on her way to her own. “I’ll grab my suit and leave it on your bed while you shower. My date’s in an hour, so don’t take too long. This is so exciting! My little sis is finally growing up.”

“I grew up years ago!” Carter shouted at her retreating … he couldn’t deny it, he’d started looking at her behind again. Though the thick spill of gold swinging back and forth to occasionally reveal a swell of breast visible past her slender back was also worth looking at. Carter didn’t move until Kylie was in her room and her door was closed. Then he went into Kitty’s, closed the door, and slid to the floor with her back braced against it. He rested with her hands dug into the carpet for a few minutes, then one went up and under her shrug to squeeze the small breast in the tight bathing suit top. He looked up where Kitty naturally had a full length mirror and the look of obviously male desire on her face – eyes wide, mouth slack - and he laughed at himself, arousing himself even more at the sight of Kitty smiling at him. He watched her playfully squeeze again and toy with the hem of her shorts, licking a finger and then putting it back to slip in. The mess of slimy spunk reminded him that Kylie wouldn’t be that patient with Kitty’s sudden ‘blossoming’ and he got up and padded into Kitty’s en suite. This was also naturally full of mirrors and Carter could see Kitty undressing from any angle he wanted, making sure to have her stretch her arms all the way up and arch her back as she pulled the vest top off, and then gyrate her hips and wiggle her rear in the mirror more than he had to when getting the shorts off. Kitty’s smooth vulva was dripping with what Carter didn’t even have to pretend was his cum and he was achingly surprised by how his penis stayed put, apparently tucked very securely inside Kitty’s slit. Mirror-Kitty ran her finger along just between the lips, raising some of Carter’s seed to her mouth and wrapping her lips around her finger. “You taste so good.” He said in her voice, still running his tongue around the digit. “I’m so glad I let you inside me.”

He watched himself as Kitty squeeze and caress herself, tickling herself around the aureole and pinching her nipple before daring the skin to release what was hidden inside by fingering her pussy and wiggling her fingers around as far inside the well filled opening between her legs as he could. The tight slit promised so much and contained something so different from what it appeared to. Carter was most aroused by that; the sight of the smiling, still-growing girl in the mirror, hands clasped and legs together with nothing quite seeming wrong with her, but knowing that the nearly bare, red lined female organ wasn’t what it seemed, nor did she feel what her expression showed when she touched her chest. Without the bathing suit and outerwear, it was obvious that Kitty’s bare body wasn’t filled in some places, though. Carter gripped her nipple again and pulled, stretching the already hollow looking boob out and letting it snap back with a girlish giggle, grabbing her butt and doing the same. He blew some hair out of her face and brushed it back, reverting to his ‘cute girl’ expression and pose. The one that made him think Kitty was really in the room.

He was hard now, but not quite stimulated enough and knew he had to keep going, keep moving, or else something might go wrong. He stepped into the shower but didn’t close the curtains; up until today it had been one of his ultimate fantasies to see Kitty bathe. How much more he’d been able to see already! The image of Kitty lathering herself up was still a very powerful one, made even better by the sultry looks she seemed to flash him as she did it, and the knowledge that the sticky white that was running down her legs had come from him. She turned so that most of the mirrors wouldn’t show her front and stretched her labia open until Carter’s cock finally sprang out, turning totally hard and throbbing in less than a second. He continued to wash with one hand while using Kitty’s slick palm to tease himself within but not quite to orgasm, moaning and sighing in his Kitty impersonation. It was more difficult than he thought and soon her nail tickled him just too much and his last sight before closing his eyes was his own desperate release mapped to Kitty’s features as her shoulders worked hips bucked, his moans and hers mixing as . As his turgidity settled down, he tried a few of Kitty’s haircare products – he didn’t know what combination to use, so he guessed. A sniff of the mask’s wig suggested he’d gotten a good set and, disappointed, Carter realized the only way the suit could be cleaned on the inside was for him to take it off now. With a little wave, Kitty reached into her armpit and found the zipper. In short order, she was rolling her shoulders to get one arm free and then with a great deal of wiggling that made Carter wish he had more time with the suit, the mask slid off with a slurping sound and the water from the shower head helped Carter slide the rest off, the suit pooling around his feet. He stepped out and let the water flow into Kitty’s eyes and mouth and down, shaking it and scrubbing the inside with his hand.

The water seemed to find no purchase on the inside of the suit and when he turned the spray off, it dried almost immediately. The outside, however, was more like his own skin and hair. After toweling himself and the suit off, he knew that there was something about hair dryers that made girls’ hair nicer, so he sat on her soft cushioned vanity chair and let the warm air play over the skin, brushing the hair with his free hand. It took a surprising amount of time to dry out her long tresses and during that time he tried not to look at the neatly folded bundle on the bed, skin slightly more tan than the one he held in his hands and topped with lustrous gold. When the Kitty suit was dry and styled, he folded it up and peeked out the door. Kylie wasn’t around, so he slid the Kitty suit out and locked the door behind him, heart pumping even more than when he’d been bluffing his way through a conversation. Kylie seemed to think Kitty was scatterbrained, so finding the suit outside Kitty’s door rather than having Kitty bring it would probably go unremarked.

It was almost a relief to be out of the Kitty suit, Carter thought. He was much more vulnerable now, but he’d started to worry that he’d taken his sex play too far. Kitty was still a real girl, one he desired and wanted to one day love. Messing around was one thing, but he didn’t want a facsimile saying and doing all those things; he didn’t want to feel like he was forcing or tricking her into being so hot for him. He wanted the real Kitty to really feel that way. It helped that his dick was aching and felt drained. He was thinking with his real brain now, and – and there was Kylie’s skin and suddenly his real brain was starting to lose again, rationalizing just before it was consumed by hot lust – Carter crushed on Kitty but drooled over Kylie - that Carter had to escape somehow and walking naked out of Kitty’s house wasn’t going to work. He went to Kitty’s walk-in closet and was swiftly lost in a swamp of mostly soft and silky clothing that caressed his bare skin as he he brushed past, looking for a sign. Kitty had to have her own collection of Kylie sized clothes – sisters shared, but he’d seen enough sibling arguments to be very aware that it was just easier to buy your own. It wouldn’t be obvious, though. Kitty’s mom might ‘clean’ and find something she shouldn’t. The narrow aisle fringed with skirts, tight pants, brightly colored tops, and dresses ended. There were dressers, but a quick inspection left him sure that they contained nothing but underwear and small items. Carter was momentarily amazed at how quickly a drawer full of Kitty’s panties could become nothing to him.

Nothing Carter found looked like it could belong to Kylie, and he knew that Kitty had to have some way of fitting into Kylie’s ampler figure, so he looked low. On eye level with Kitty’s collection of shoes that sat in neat rows beneath her clothing, he saw a line running up the wall behind some dresses and a small plastic bin of tights and other items that all looked like they were meant for some kind of performance. Pushing through the masses of satin, crinoline, and taffeta that made his smooth boyish skin tingle, Carter found that that segment of rod was not really attached to the other two sides but to the wall, which had a small handle that let it swing out. He guessed that she’d repurposed the back side of a linen cupboard by the appearance of the shelves inside. There was a flesh-toned, lumpy thing on the first shelf and then the next was occupied by bras that were obviously sized for a larger chest as well as panties too wide for Kitty’s small rear. The rest were tops, bottoms, dresses, and other clothing along with shoes, purses, and accessories. Wishing he had more time in this feminine heaven, Carter was still very aware that not only was he a naked boy in a girl’s room, but that the girl’s sister probably expected to see her double soon and that the girl herself wouldn’t be much longer before she came home, thoroughly annoyed at being left at the pool by her careless parents and sibling.

The top item was obvious enough, especially when Carter took it down and unrolled it. A nude colored lycra bodysuit with silicone pads to turn Kitty’s chemically frozen barely pubescent figure into that of her voluptuous sister. Carter pulled the zipper down, stepped in, and sighed as his legs slid into the stocking-like bodysuit. Unfortunately for his plans, it was crotchless, so he’d again have to tuck and hope that the skinsuit would hold, but at least the convex inner parts of the pads that were meant to cradle what Kitty had so far developed held firm so that there wouldn’t be any gaps this time. He zipped it up in front and grasped his new curves to shift and settle them into place. His comments as Kylie were right on – the silicone chest pads dragged him down and the rest of the gel filled sacs squished in odd places. Passing Kitty’s vanity, he thought that by silhouette he looked sexy but otherwise appeared very strange with his head on an obvious padded mannequin like body with his penis – he was sure it was fully formed to his age of eighteen after everything that had happened – sticking out, slightly stiff from the feel and sound of Kitty’s clothes rustling over the lycra bodysuit.

The Kylie suit beckoned and Carter couldn’t believe that he could still get an erection after everything that had happened, but at the sight of the smoldering hot twenty-four-year-old unrolling in front of him, he did. There was so much more to jerk off to that Carter ignored it this time and focused on getting the suit on. The inside stuck much less on the smooth padded bodysuit than on his skin and so it wasn’t long before he was threading his cock through Kylie’s – to his surprise – untrimmed opening. It was just as awkward as before, however, to bend and duck through the side entrance of the suit and use his free arm to pull the mask and opposite arm on, but when he did he decided to leave the suit open for a minute to try something. He used Kitty’s vanity mirror to adjust the mask until Kylie’s eyelids covered his and her pert nose and narrow nostrils were in place over his. He turned so that only the parts of Kylie that were whole were visible and watched as his hand massaged her breast. He tried out some sighs and gasps in her voice, not having much practice and actually having to pitch down his tight, high vocal cords. He arched her back and let her eyelids lower, looking out one corner and suddenly bursting into giggles that he was faking it with himself like she apparently did with her more boring dates. Her breast felt very interesting to his boy hand, but again he had to hurry and snaked the male appendage in to fill her female one. Kylie’s fingers handling his shaft was almost too much, but he sternly reminded himself yet another time that he was trying to beat a clock and pushed it roughly up, stretching the back of Kylie’s slit like he had Kitty’s so that it pinned him back and letting go to watch as it swallowed him up. Every part of her body seemed to move in a different direction at the slightest provocation and with his heavier pair, Carter was sure he’d need a bra. There was a limited choice in Kitty’s disguise closet and Carter picked out a basic looking black set of underwear, but instead of the tight jeans and clingy top he often imagined her in, Carter went for a slicker looking dark blue top that zipped up in front with a generous V left open. He kept to the tight jeans, however, when he picked up a nice looking skirt that he knew would look great on Kylie and imagined how the wrong move in something that didn’t squeeze him down below would end up with that skirt sporting a very obvious bulge.

Buttoning the jeans was an exercise that made Carter wonder if maybe Kitty had bought the wrong size. Running her hand over her booty and bending over for a good look changed his mind. They were definitely exactly the right size for this version of Kylie. Guessing he’d need shoes as well, Carter grabbed a pair of tan high heeled sandals and fell face first onto Kitty’s bed. Teetering as he got up, he found his balance and tried his hardest to remember anything about how girls walked in them. Small steps with her legs close together seemed to work and he made it to the door feeling good about how fast and naturally he did it when someone knocked.

It was Kitty – thought to Carter’s relief it was obviously Kylie in the Kitty suit. A few steps made that plain as she tried not to swing her hips and failed. Her clothes were also somewhat more revealing, though the V-neck top and tight jeans only revealed an athletic but generally uncurved body. “Ugh, grow up fast.” She said, then cleared her throat. “I mean, I need to borrow your ballet outfit if I’m going to go straight there after my date.” She said in as good an approximation of Kitty’s voice as Carter had managed. “Actually, never mind. I’ll come back here first. Sheesh, just looking like you makes me just as bad.” She tried to put her hand on her hip and let it fall back down when she didn’t find enough room on the straight-figured younger sister’s body. “I feel like I’m going to burst out of this. Nice outfit. I never thought about using that combination.” Carter felt proud, and then a little nervous when she asked. “So, sis, where are you going?”

“To a movie, I guess.” Carter said in Kylie’s voice. “While I can get into one.”

“You’re so predictable. You’re getting better at my voice, though. Everything must finally be maturing again.” She kissed Carter on the cheek – he felt sexually conflicted at the idea that it was Kylie but also looked like Kitty. “Remember not to get home too early or mom and dad will know one of us skipped out on practice.” She winked. “And if I go like this, I’ll get the blame. Your body may be a pain, sis, but I admit that it’s sooo much easier to do ballet in.” She turned and flounced out, her motions spoiled by the tight skinsuit.

Carter watched her go, and then carefully closed the door. He put her fist into her mouth and let out a small squeal. He was Kylie now! A drop-dead hottie he had no guilt about becoming, whose figure was the stuff of dirty legends amongst his peers. He didn’t get undressed though, or even squeeze between her legs to try to relieve the pressure. Instead, he just turned and drank in the beauty that was reflected in every surface. He’d had to get ready to meet the Kitty suited Kylie fast so he hadn’t really gotten used to the idea that he was now the curvy, flirty older sister. She looked back at him blankly, as confused about what to do next as he was. He felt free and yet strangely bereft of ideas. There wasn’t time to really explore Kylie, but he felt like he ought to do something before he left – maybe to go to that movie. It would be a treat to be able to watch whatever he wanted. He checked the purse he found in Kitty’s disguise closet and as expected it contained a copy of Kylie’s ID. Not just over eighteen like him, but over twenty-one and looking it. Mature, trusted, desired. He heard the front door slam and Kylie’s ‘pretty but empty’ expression changed to ‘oh no!’ Kitty was home.

Carter rushed out of Kitty’s room, not wanting to be caught as Kylie in there. He thought about taking shelter in Kylie’s but it was already too late. Kitty was up the stairs and glaring at her, her foot tapping on the hallway carpet. Carter’s panic must have shown on Kylie’s face because Kitty bit her lip, but continued to look stern. “Uh…. Hi, sis.” Carter said, smiling weakly and nervously pulling her hair out of her face and back over her shoulder, noticing but not able to enjoy how her breast moved as she stretched her arm and rolled her shoulder.

“Don’t ‘hi, sis’ me! What was that about? Why’d you leave without me?”

“Uh, I guess I forgot.” Carter replied. “Mom and dad did too!” He said defensively, trying not to look like he’d never crossed his arms over a bountiful chest as he did just that.

“Yeah, but they didn’t steal my -” Kitty looked around to see if their parents were listening, “my suit!” She whispered. She looked critically at Kylie. “I thought you were wearing it on your date and were pranking me somehow. Where is it?”

“I don’t have it!” Carter said with all the honesty he could. “Really, sis, I don’t. I … I realized we’d left you and then I felt bad so I decided to just go as myself and make it up to you by going to ballet as you anyway.”

“That’s the least you can do.” Kitty put her hands on her hips. “So why did you forget me? It can’t just be because you were distracted.” She gave Carter a sly look that he’d have paid any amount of money to have Kitty give him as himself. “Lee? Do you actually like this new boy? As in like him enough to enjoy a date with him?”

“Maybe.” Carter said, trying to sound huffy.

“You must. I’ve never seen you wear something so daring – I mean, so different. Usually you go with that boring old seduction routine that you use to make them drool and pay for anything while you give them a shot of that overdeveloped body of yours.”

“Jealous, sis?” Carter asked, feeling like his face would catch fire as he dared to push Kylie’s boobs together right in front of Kitty’s face and squeeze them.

“Right,” Kitty snorted. “I totally want to have a pair of melons stuck to me all the time.”

“You like them enough when you wear my suit.” Carter argued, feeling confident in Kylie’s skin.

“I can take them off. You can’t.” Kitty rose up on tiptoe and this time it really was her kissing Carter, though Carter could still wish that the Kylie’s cheek wasn’t in the way. “Have fun! I’d better go back to the pool and look around. I hope no one stole my suit.” Her face twisted. “I’d hate to think of some jealous younger girl finding it and realizing that their body would fit mine while making them seem older to the people in our Sector.”

“Or even a horny boy who has a thing for you.” Carter joked.

“Yech. Definitely not that!” Kitty laughed. “I think I don’t have to worry about that one, though. Not many boys my size and how would they get into the changing room to steal it? No, my clothes and bathing suit were in a hamper and it was still there. Melinda knows about the suit and probably saw someone about to look inside so she took everything to pretend she was bringing it back to me. I’ll ask her when I see her.” Kitty walked away.

“Wish me luck!” Carter said, echoing what Kylie had said before. His heart was in his throat. He couldn’t believe he’d talked to Kitty that way! She’d treated him so nicely – or at least tolerant and playful – that he’d wanted to go for a kiss right there. He thought about going after her, but she expected her sister to go on a date and the less he was seen by people who knew the woman whose skinsuit he was wearing the better. On the other hand, he did have a few minutes before Kitty would wonder what was going on. He went into Kylie’s room.

Carter had been very distracted in Kitty’s room and hadn’t really taken in the tasteful wooden furniture and subdued colors of her bedspread and painted walls. Now that he thought about it and had time to really look, he decided he liked Kitty’s room better than Kylie’s. Kylie seemed to prefer shiny metal – he could see her reflection everywhere – along with bright, shimmering satin bedclothes and brightly colored walls. He padded into her closet and was met with a riot of clashing hues and a dizzying variety of cuts. Kitty – probably because of her small stature and slim figure – had a lot of the same type of outfit, whereas Kylie appeared unable to decide what made her look best and as Carter let Kylie’s finger run along the rows of hangers, he couldn’t find two of the same of anything. Her closet was also much fuller and even her underwear drawer was bursting when he opened it. Face hot at the sight of so much intimate clothing, Carter considered changing to something else. Then again, if he ran into the real Kylie – the one currently dressed as Kitty and on a date – she’d expect to see her twin in something belonging to Kitty, and Kitty seemed not to have noticed her sister was wearing something that belonged to her. In the end, Carter wasn’t confident that he knew what looked right and didn’t want to press his luck.

Sitting on the edge of Kylie’s bed, he faced one of her many full length mirrors and posed with her shoulders back, hands pressed into the slick, cool satin sheet and legs crossed at the ankle. Shaking her head to make her long golden tresses float, she felt a now familiar twinge of Carter’s member straining against the inside of the suit’s vulva and pressed one hand against her crotch, pouting at the mirror as she squeezed and shifted her generous rear to try to make Carter’s part feel more comfortable. Nothing seemed to work and she wiggled back and forth, now noticing how much her breasts moved even constrained by the bra. He took one in each hand and was mesmerized for several minutes moving them around and pulling them up, then letting them go to let them fall and jiggle their way back to equilibrium. He got up to take a closer look, and then was distracted when he saw the reflection of the mirror behind him showing him Kylie’s butt as she minced forward. He didn’t really want to adopt the rolling gait all the time, but it seemed like the only way he could walk in the high heels. He’d seen girls taking longer strides but he couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

Carter got right up to the mirror and tapped her cheek. He was fascinated by every move he made in the Kylie suit. He ran her hands down her side, twisted to see herself in profile, flicked out her hair, hopped as much as she dared in the heels to see the silicone filled skin flow and snap back into place. She turned to the side, arched her back, put one hand behind her head and made kissy faces, pretending Kylie was coming on to him. He turned, spread her legs, bent as far as he could and looked back, thinking that Kylie was hotter than any porn he’d ever seen. When he smushed her boobs against the mirror, his breath fogged it and momentarily losing sight reminded him that he really ought to get going before Kitty wondered what her sister was doing. Getting ready for a date took a long time according to some of the guys who actually had girlfriends – not many, though. In this Sector, it wasn’t really something anyone was pressured to do until primary college. Most of Kitty’s friends were in relationships, but Kitty herself seemed to be waiting until she finally caught up. Carter thought that it was all the better for him since it meant that he might be in primary by the time she – and he – got over their medically induced immaturity, and would have a chance with her.

One think Kylie lacked was makeup. Carter took one long look at the mind numbing array of similar looking cosmetics that he was sure were actually all totally different and could only be combined just so and decided that Kylie’s natural beauty would have to do. There was no way he’d figure it out before Kylie got back, and possibly not before the sun swelled up and swallowed the planet. He swung Kylie’s purse on and was about to leave when he remembered something. “Crap!” He muttered, staying in her voice to keep in practice. Hurrying – rapidly taking the same tiny steps as before – back, he grabbed a phone in long nailed fingers and dialed his own house’s number. “Hi!” He chirped when his mother answered. “I’m so sorry. Carter … uh, Carter …” He realized he hadn’t actually thought up a lie before he called. “All of a sudden my parents decided they should hang out together. I think she was getting a little depressed about her – you know – problem, and Carter’s is a lot like hers so they click about that. I just realized that no one thought to call you to tell you we’d picked him up. Yeah, I know he left his clothes in the locker room. His trunks in the girls’? Weird!” Carter realized this was his chance to make an explanation sound legitimate. “You know what? Were they in a wicker hamper? Right! We leave that at the pool for our use and then move all our stuff to a bin when we leave. Yeah, we must have missed his trunks. He probably took the hamper with him to put them in and then we missed them when we grabbed ours. I guess he had a change of clothes with him because I can tell you for sure he isn’t naked!” Carter laughed engagingly. “Oh, I know. Boys usually don’t think that far ahead but he must have had a premonition or something. Listen, I’m so sorry but I’m already running late for an afternoon out with a boy. Well, thank you! I’ll be sure to let you know when he’s ready to come home since apparently,” he said with a roll of her eyes to help stay in character as the ‘only sane one’ “no one else here remembers that sort of thing. Bye!” He put the phone down and had to sit down on Kylie’s bed because his legs had turned to jelly. At first he’d been nervous but now he was giggling so hard that he was having trouble keeping his voice low and melodious and he finally had to stick her fist in his mouth to make sure Kitty didn’t hear, and he lay back to let himself calm down. For the most part he managed to make his laughter sound sort of like Kylie, which was important. Keeping his voice female was good practice for … whatever he decided to do once he was out. With the real Kylie on her date and Kitty apparently staying home, he could do what he liked as Kylie. Even if he crossed paths with the real one, she’d assume it was Kitty in the skinsuit.

Carter’s thoughts were repeatedly interrupted as he descended stairs in heels, thought her jeans would burst at the crotch seam when he dared to bend and kiss Kitty on the top of her head as he left, and finally had to rummage in her purse to find her keys to lock up. He waved to a neighbor on his way down the walk and then was out on the sidewalk, feeling like the clicking of her heels striking the pavement would draw everyone’s attention to him. Thinking about how he must look from the outside, he was pretty confident that their eyes would stay glued to some part of her for a long time. He’d had a disappointingly short time to appreciate Kylie’s body naked, but knew for sure that clothed she was hot and he was perfectly her. Now that he was out on the street, it was time to give serious consideration to what he was going to do as Kylie. Going into a movie or an adult store without being first carded and then accused of having a fake ID – he bit her lip at the thought that the one time he wouldn’t be stopped was the time he was showing a fake – would be nice, but only a momentary novelty. It would be heavenly not to be bugged every step of the way about how he looked too young to be wherever he was, but then again he would probably only be trading that for being followed around by admirers. Even as he got to the outskirts of the shopping district, he could see heads turning. If only his friend Greg could see him!

The pleasant – though sometimes a little flirty – smile Carter had maintained turned into a sparkle-eyed beam as he shrugged her pretty shoulders. Why not? He’d see how far he could string Greg along and at the end the young man would thank Carter for giving him such a memorable experience with an otherwise totally unattainable woman. Carter turned left at the next intersection, aiming to miss the busiest part of town on his way to Greg’s house. He took out Kylie’s phone and started texting, marveling at how much more accurate long nails were once he got used to them. His tapped message made a rapid counterpoint to the slow beat of her heels against the cement.

‘Hi! This is Kylie, Kitty’s sister.’

A long pause. Carter could imagine Greg’s thoughts at being messaged out of the blue by Kylie. Of course he knew who she was, why was she calling, and finally a few daydreams that Carter would easily better when he got there. ‘Hi.’

Carter giggled. Awkward just like he’d be in this situation. ‘Carter was just over my house and a date canceled. He said some things about you that made me think I’d like to meet you.’ A very long pause. Carter pushed a little harder. ‘Are you home? I can be right there.’

‘Uh, sure.’

‘OK. I’ll be right there! ^-~’ Carter put the phone back in her purse, satisfied that he’d thoroughly confused, excited, and probably aroused his friend. Distracted by thoughts of how great this was going to be, he didn’t notice the tall black haired young woman who waved and then crossed the street to grab him by the arm. “Hey, Kylie! I thought we were going to Mini Zebras today. She leaned in close and whispered. “Seriously, Kitty. You should know better than to be in town right now. It’s a good thing I caught you or Craig might have instead.”

Carter searched desperately and finally came up with a name. “Oh, Melinda, ” he said in Kylie’s voice. “I’m so sorry! Didn’t you get my text? I had to cancel.” His throat felt raw as he did his best to switch quickly to his Kitty voice. “Thanks. I totally forgot. I really do have to bail though, sorry.” Melinda was one of the worst people Carter could stay near. As one of Kitty’s best friends and an obviously close confidant, there was no telling when the real Kitty might show up asking where her suit was. “I … uh, that is…” Carter realized that ‘not feeling well’ might cover the shaking legs – heels were hard to just stand around in – and scratchy voice, but not why Kelly was going this direction in a Kylie skinsuit.

“Are you all right?” Melinda asked, stepping closer and searching Carter’s Kylie face. “You don’t quite seem right.” Up close, Carter started to notice things. Like how green Melinda’s eyes were, the way her breast brushed against Carter’s. Her breath was sweet and Carter started to lean in closer.

“I – I …” He stammered. Melinda’s eyes seemed to fill his vision, searching his soul. He felt like she could see right through the suit and at the scared, chemically pre-pubescent body with its painfully late teenage mind that was horny and aroused by everything he was doing right now.

Suddenly, Melinda wasn’t close anymore. Instead she had her hands clasped over her chest and was grinning. “Oh, honey! I’m so happy for your … sister! She’s finally starting to come out of it, isn’t she?”

“Uh, sure.” Carter said, wondering if every girl he met would assume Kitty was starting on her period as soon as she seemed to be acting weird. “I mean, yeah! It’s so great, isn’t it?” He continued, picking up Kylie’s voice again. “She’s so forgetful,” he said with a broad wink. “Kind of not in the mood for some things, though, you know? But definitely for others.” The two girls were giggling at both the secret conversation and what it meant. “Like, as soon as she realized, she totally wanted to grow up right then. Like, I told her she was lucky that she only had to start on a training bra at twenty and that they’re so annoying, right? Anyway, I’ll tell her you were happy for her when I see her!”

“So where are you going?” Melinda asked before Carter could turn around.

“Me? Oh, a friend of Carter’s is -” Carter almost said ‘taking me out’ but knew that would only lead to a million questions from Melinda, “sick, and I told his parents I’d babysit. Yeah, I know,” she said at Melinda’s eyeroll, “he’s eighteen. His parents are a little,” he made a little ‘crazy’ circle with her finger. “Pretty much I hang out, get a couple bucks, and stay out of the way while he lies on the sofa and watches TV.”

Melinda snorted. “Have fun. Oh, and I’m so happy for you.” She looked back and forth and then hugged Carter, who hugged her back a moment later, thinking that Kitty had nice friends and that dressing up as a popular girl also meant he could hug other popular girls without it being weird. A definite bonus but one he probably wouldn’t be able to capitalize on very much. “See you around!” Melinda called, jogging off.

Carter let out a deep breath, feeling her bra strain as she straightened up and started walking again. He hoped he could sit down soon and rest his aching back and feet. His relief was short-lived. As he waited for a light to change – and waved with a cheery smile at the young men who honked as they passed – another familiar hand took her shoulder. “Hello, Kylie.” The voice sounded both scared and weary and as Kylie turned around, she saw that the light haired, broad shouldered man’s face mirrored his tone.

“Oh, hi, Craig.” Carter said. He’d seen the man around when he visited Kitty a couple of times with his family and it wasn’t hard to guess where this was going after Melinda’s warning. “Listen, I’m in a hurry, so…”

“Come on, Kylie! I know I screwed up but can’t you let me have another try? Please?” Craig took a step forward and Carter one back, finding himself pressed against a wall with Craig’s arms on either side and one of her heels resting against the wall itself. Carter had seen this pose many times and now appreciated what it was like to have a big guy towering over him expecting more than just being feared for being large.

“Craig…” Carter didn’t want to complicate things any more and was about to give a firm ‘no’, but Craig looked so despondent and Carter had an idea. He needed to see how far he could go before he tried his Kylie act out on Greg, so instead of pushing him away, Carter took Craig’s hand and looked up into his eyes. “I don’t know. I was really mad at you.”

“But you aren’t now?” He asked. Being on the girl end, Carter could see why so many talked about their boyfriends like they were puppies. Craig seemed so pathetically hopeful that Carter had to keep her kind smile from turning into a laughing snort.

“I am, still, a little…” Carter said, turning her head away, but continuing to hold Craig’s hand. As expected, the man took her chin and turned it back. “I…” Carter’s hesitancy was genuine, but he fell into the mood easily as Craig continued to hold her chin delicately and pull him towards him. Her lips parted and Carter was surprised by how easily the kiss came, and how natural it felt to be on heels with a man’s hand on her back and another in hers, with her hand behind his head, pushing his mouth onto hers.

“So can we have another chance?” Craig whispered.

Carter pulled away again, clasping her hands. “I – maybe. I’ll call you later, okay? I really do need to get somewhere.”

“All right. You look a little different. I like it.” Craig was trying and failing to hide how elated he was at what sounded like a definite yes in the future.

“I’m not wearing makeup, silly.” Carter said, pushing him away so he could get past. “I had to leave the house fast today.”

The light had changed and Carter left, realizing as he did so that her mincing walk made her hips swing and her butt flex in a way that probably made Craig think she was showing off for him. He was still a little dizzy at how easy it had been. Fooling girls: hard. Fooling horny young men: easy. Good to know. Carter also felt a little weird about how kissing Craig had come naturally. Maybe he was getting more comfortable being Kylie or maybe a girl’s body – even a very fake one – made it obvious what to do. He felt a little warm from the two consecutive encounters with Kitty’s friend and Kylie’s ex, but very happy at how they’d turned out. He could trick a girl into hugging him as a friend and seduce a man with almost no effort. Getting into a locker room or turning flirting to profit would be simple. He felt worse about the first, though. Kylie seemed content to use her body to get stuff from men, but it was a little perverted even for Carter’s teenage mind to effectively hide in a girl and abuse the trust of others to peep on them. That was one view. On the other hand: there might hot, scantily clad lesbian makeouts. Carter was still weighing those two viewpoints when he arrived at Greg’s house. Fun time!

Carter checked that her top was zippered just so and tugged the back of her jeans up to maximum tightness. Greg must have been watching out because the door opened just as he finished pretending the front path was a catwalk and he had to make the most out of every hip swing and butt flex. “Hi!” Carter chirped, waving with her elbow close to her side and her head tilted just so. Her hair and chest bobbed as she did a little bounce with the wave. “I’m Kylie! I’ve heard so much about you from Kitty and cousin Carter.” She walked past Greg, who didn’t move out of the way in time to keep from having her denim covered hip brush his front, likely also brushing something that he’d have to hide if Carter were to suddenly turn around – which of course he did.

“Really?” Greg asked, turning to the side and moving his legs in a way that told Carter that the momentary touch along with the presence of the Sector’s most desired bombshell in his home was having as much effect on him as Carter had expected. Carter ignored his desperate and failed attempt to hide the bulge in his pants for now.

“Oh, yes!” Carter said, inviting himself to sit and cross her legs in Greg’s living room. “I think we have a lot more in common than you might think.” He sat looking at Greg, who seemed frozen in place now that a beautiful woman had shown interest in him and invited herself into his – his parents’ – house. Carter rubbed her knee self-consciously, staring at Greg and waiting for him to move or say something. “I hope you don’t mind me coming over.” He said at length, when the pause had become far longer than was polite. He put a hurt tone into Kylie’s voice.

“No!” Greg blurted, seeming startled to find himself standing next to the open door, which he closed with a deep blush. Finally getting the hint and sitting across from Kylie, Greg then began the ultimately futile fight of keeping his eyes on her face. Lovely as it was with her full lips, wide eyes, and round cheeks, it was impossible to keep his gaze forever off of her chest and then straying lower. Again Carter let his very male behavior pass in favor of forcing him into ever more embarrassing situations.

“Oh, good!” Carter leaned forward, the partly unzipped top giving Greg a fine view between her breasts and of her lacy bra. She looked back and forth, then smiled secretly. “Carter told me you were a big fan of Commander Tuba.” He said, naming a show that Greg was in truth an enormous geek about. He pouted. “The other girls don’t appreciate how great it is.” Then she looked up brightly at Greg. “But I know you do! I always wanted someone I could watch it with.” Greg had sat on the sofa, and with a swing of her generous rear, Kylie planted herself next to him. “I hear you have all the spinoffs too.”

Carter didn’t have to manufacture a look of concern as Greg seemed to start choking, but the rush of confusion passed and Carter’s friend broke into a beaming smile. “Of course! I’ve got it all!”

“Great!” Carter said with a matching smile. “Why don’t you get us something to drink while I go to the bathroom.” He got up and went first, partly to keep Greg off balance by seeing how long the poor late teen would stay rooted in place with his eyes stuck to her backside and partly to give him a little clue by showing that Kylie somehow knew the layout of his house.

Somewhere in all the walking, wiggling, lying, and making out, Carter’s dick had slipped from the restraint of the stretchy skin and it sprang completely out and strained against Kylie’s panties the moment her jeans were off and her legs were a tiny bit apart. Rolling her eyes, Carter grabbed the shaft and with a sultry, dominating look in the sink mirror he gave it a single, commanding pump and soon it was mostly under control again. He wasn’t sure how much Greg could hear, but after a second’s thought shrugged and stopped worrying. He wasn’t likely to know much about girls and if he did then it meant the deception would end that much faster. Carter didn’t have an endgame in mind, so it didn’t bother him either way. When everything was packed back up, Carter found that Greg had laid out snacks as well and almost didn’t lose it when Carter sat daintily down next to him and then scooted an extra inch closer. As the show continued and they both got into it, Greg seemed to relax more and more.

After the first episode, Carter sat rapt as Greg expounded on every nuance of the story, voice actors, methods of drawing them and how things changed across the season and the series. “You know so much!” He said in wide-eyed hand-clasped amazement, sliding even closer.

“Not as much as some,” Greg replied. He started the second and only noticed at the end that Carter was pressed up against him, head almost on his shoulder as the credits rolled.

“Was that tall guy who talked to Tuba at the arcade supposed to be imaginary?” He asked eagerly when the music faded. He knew the answer but it would help Greg get into a discussion.

“Ummm… n-not exactly.” Greg stammered.

Carter looked down and sighed. “I thought you’d gotten over this.” He said, looking down her top. “You were treating me just like another fan for awhile.”

“I – I’m trying, but you’re so…”

Carter looked up at him from his relaxed pose with wide eyes and kicked her legs. “Would it help if you tried to imagine me as just another friend? One of your guy friends?” He pushed.

“I don’t know if – it’s so hard when I look at you and you’re so pretty and…”

“I bet I can make you think of me as a guy.” Carter said in a breathy, flirty way, pulling her shoulders forward and leaning even more towards Greg to maximize the cleavage that was now pressed against his arm. Greg seemed totally speechless, and Carter licked her lips. He was sure he could string Greg along practically forever, and Greg’s expression was adorably slack. Carter bit her lip, but resisted the temptation to keep up the deception. If he took it any further, he was sure Greg would never forgive him. He reached up and pulled a little on Kylie’s face, stretching the mask away from his right eye. “Does this help?” He said in his own voice.

“Gyack!” Greg started coughing and Carter let go of the mask and stood up, running back behind the sofa to grab Greg around the middle, bending over with her heels making her ass stick out and her boobs nearly in Greg’s face.

“Do you need the Heimlich Maneuver, hon?” He asked in Kylie’s voice, her hair tickling Greg’s cheek.

Greg flailed and Carter stepped back to keep Greg from touching something that would only make him worse. “No! Wait, so are you – but you just –“

“It’s me, dude.” Carter assured him. “Acting like her’s a lot easier, though.”

“How can I be sure?” Greg asked, narrowing his eyes and elongating his words in suspicion.

“Uh, I dunno, maybe because Kylie wouldn’t just show up out of the blue to watch anime and also isn’t really the type of girl to go this far in pranking anyone, much less a guy she barely knows exists? Sorry, Greg, but my cousin only knows me because I’m sort of related to her and my mom’s really good friends with her mom.” Carter said, kicking off the heels so he could stand naturally without swaying or looking sexy. Being casual in heels was something Carter was sure he wouldn’t master soon. He climbed over the back of the couch and plopped down next to Greg with enough force that he had to wait a few seconds for the jiggling to end and Greg to focus again.

“Hey, I might be interesting to her!”

“You might be having trouble keeping yourself from obviously staring at my assets even though you know it’s me.” Carter replied. He grasped her breasts and moved them back and forth. “They’re pretty nice, though, even on me.” Carter smiled wickedly and put his weight on Greg’s shoulder, one hand on Greg’s thigh and the other working behind his back to wrap her arm around him. “So, now you know, I guess you have a choice.” He said, again in Kylie’s voice and extra sexy, pouting her lips and lowering her eyelids. “Act like I’m one of the guys or…” He whispered in Greg’s ear. “Find out what it’s like if you treat me like a lady.”

Greg was recovering from the string of surprises and only said. “How did it happen?” Carter tried to look disappointed that his friend wasn’t taking the bait, but enthusiastically outlined his day up until then – in his own voice – ending on his arrival at Greg’s house. “Now I’m sure it’s you, nerd!” Greg said, punching Carter in the arm. “Only you would perv on a family member-”

“Distant family!” Carter whined, punching back.

“Then decide to wear her swimsuit and end up pretending to be her pretending to be her sister. And only you would be shrimpy enough to get away with it.” Greg took another playful swing and Carter caught his fist. Their contest of strength soon landed them both on the floor with Greg on top. “Looks like treating you like one of the boys is paying off.” He said, straddling her hips.

“Get off!” Carter said, pushing Greg hard on his chest and unconsciously starting to talk like Kylie again. “What if your mom comes home and catches us like this?” Inside the mask his face was burning and he knew that his Kylie body must look very inviting as he breathed just hard enough to have her lips parted and chest heaving, her hair fanned out under her and Greg’s legs seemingly made to close around her ripe figure.

“Mom and dad will be out all day.” Greg told him, smiling down as if reading his thoughts – or perhaps just her body language. “But you’re right.” He stood up and helped Carter to her feet. “I’d never take advanteg of a lady like that.” He watched with confused interest as Carter huffed, looked away, and then stepped back into her high heeled sandals. She bent and fiddled with the clasps for an obviously unnecessary period of time, back turned to Greg. “Fishing for a compliment?” He asked.

Carter straightened up, turned, and crossed her arms under her boobs. “Would it kill you to pretend I’m Kylie just a little?”

“You mean the geek girl who was just recently complaining that I wasn’t treating her like – pretty much like you?” Greg asked. “Wow, Carter, you’ve got the whole ‘girl’ thing down.” As Carter continued to glare at him, he said, “I guess ‘show us your boobs’ isn’t going to work.”

“No!” Carter said hotly. Then he smiled a little, realizing how silly things had gotten. “Why? You see plenty of tits online.”

“Yeah, but none of them are here and belong to someone I know is real.” Greg replied. “And there’s zero chance of me … feeling them.”

“Is that what you want, tiger?” Carter asked in his sexy Kylie whisper, moving her hands up to grasp one each and push them together. “Do you want to do this?” He asked, slipping one hand down her top, closing her eyes and sighing with contentment as he pretended he felt something.

“Right now I’d settle for being allowed to touch myself and let you do your own thing.” Greg replied.

“Perv.”

“Says the boy feeling up the body of a girl that he’s wearing.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to be coy and play this out, but I really want to show off.” Carter unzipped the blue top all the way and shrugged it off. “Kylie will be on her date for awhile longer, and if your parents are going to be out we may as well watch another episode.” Carter winked, resting her hands on her hips – left bare by the low rise jeans. “Maybe I’ll take off some more later.” He rolled her shoulders. “I think this will do for now.” They sat down and within a minute of the show starting Carter had moved in close enough to lay her head on Greg’s shoulder and let him put his arm around hers. “By the way, you’re one to talk. I have an excuse for being short.”

“So this is what it feels like to have a girlfriend.” Greg said. “A snarky, snarky, but also sexy, sexy girlfriend.”

“Shh! I love this part.” Carter said, snuggling closer and putting her hands on his chest. When the credits started to roll and he looked at Greg, it seemed natural that their lips met.

“Dude, is it weird that this isn’t weird?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, but on the other hand you have the hottest girl in the Sector about to lay her head in your lap.” Carter replied, doing so. “And she’s almost nude from the waist up.”

“Good point.” Greg replied.

“I think it’s the suit, by the way.” Carter said. “Besides, we have such a bromance that this really isn’t a big stretch now that I look like Kylie.”

“Does this mean I can ask you to take your pants off?” Greg asked hopefully.

“You can, but I won’t.” Carter replied. “I look way better in them than out of them. Trust me.”

“I want to be able to make the comparison.” Greg replied, trying to look innocent.

“What’s pressing against the back of my head says that you have an ulterior motive. Episode’s starting!” Carter bent her legs to rest her feet on the armrest of the sofa, and absently played with the button on her jeans. When the show ended, she sat up. “Fine!” He got up, strutted in front of the TV and pivoted on one heel feeling proud of himself for managing it. Gyrating her hips and turning occasionally to show off how her butt moved as she did it, he worked the jeans down until they were pooled around her ankles and he had to take off her shoes or risk falling over as he tried to kick the bottoms off. He quickly stepped back into them so he could stand proudly in just her underwear and shoes, bent slightly with her hands on her hips, a proud, challenging smile aimed at Greg. “How do I compare to the girls on the internet?” He asked, moving his hands up her sides and finally fluffing out her hair before starting again, finding himself unable to stop from admiring his own Kylie body.

“You’re the hottest thing ever.” Greg said with feeling. “So I’ve tricked you and been patient. What does it take to get another layer off?” He said after watching Carter as Kylie feel herself for several minutes of mutual enjoyment.

“Y’know what?” Carter said. “You’ve already done it. My cock’s been stuck in this suit for ages and you’ve kept your hands off by choice where I’ve been stuck by force.” Carter sashayed to the windows to make sure the blinds were extra secure, then hooked a finger in the waistband of her black lace panties. “I just hope nothing pops out.” He said. Greg’s eyes were transfixed the moment the underwear fell to the floor. He’d obviously seen one online, but nothing prepared him for a close up and totally solid woman standing right in front of him. Carter turned and jiggled a buttock at Greg. “Wow. You’re keeping your hands away even now. I can see how hard you are from here!” Feeling the tease again, Carter moaned, “Want me to do something about that, tiger?” He turned back and bent again, lips pouted and shoulders pushed together to lift her cleavage into Greg’s face. “There’s plenty of room in here, though you’re going to have to learn a very important lesson first.” Carter pushed Greg down, sat on the floor and turned her back to him. “How to free the girls.”

Greg grasped the two stretchy tabs with their cargo of interlocking hooks and eyes and as predicted, Carter got a few minutes to himself to think about what he was going to do next. The first minute was wasted, however, when he noticed how Greg’s pulls kept bouncing her breasts up and down in her bra. He looked back at the red faced boy with a smile of encouragement and a bob of her flowing gold hair and then went back to her thoughts. Once she was completely naked, then he’d get Greg off. It was really only fair and besides if he stopped now Greg might do something he shouldn’t. In fact, Greg might anyway, so Carter needed something to keep him quiet. When Kylie was done with her date, Carter would have to sneak back in and – well, Kylie would give Kitty her suit back, so why not grab that and put it back on since the real Kitty didn’t know where it was? He definitely wasn’t going to do anything with Greg while wearing that, although… Carter looked back at Greg, who had gotten the bra most of the way off finally. “Almost there!” He said, smiling with a secret purpose. If he was in the Kitty suit and needed to keep Greg from talking about what happened, he’d have the perfect weapon in hand. One which Greg wouldn’t be able to resist.

Carter’s bra fell away and he turned ignoring Greg’s protestations as he opened Greg’s fly and pulled out the penis is that he’d seen tent Greg’s pants from the moment he’d opened the door. “Shhh. It’s just me.” Carter enfolded the member between her boobs and massaged the silicone filled skin. “I can’t have you walking around hard as a rock all day.” He said. “You’ve wanted to touch them all this time and now you are.” Carter looked up at Greg’s expression of conflicted horror at having his friend being sexual with him and intense pleasure at seeing Kylie doing it. It must be heaven, Carter thought, having these warm, soft things enfold his penis and massage them, Kylie’s nipples rotating and her eyes staring into his. Carter looked down and saw that her boobs had totally engulfed Greg. He pressed them together harder and parted her lips, pretending to moan with satisfaction. “Would you like to touch them more?” He asked, standing as the shining cum sprayed into her cleavage. At Greg’s nod, he climbed up on the young man’s lap and dangled the spunk covered orbs before him, feeling Greg give in to the need to stroke Carter’s belly and her behind, hands moving all over. He reached down to keep Greg away from her delicately stretched labia, knowing that a touch could cause an accident. “You want to feel everything, don’t you? Well, you can.” Carter pressed her lips to his ear. “Kylie gets home soon and I like being Kitty better. Play along and you can be me soon. Then you can play until it hurts.” He pressed her lips to Greg’s and then was gone, gathering up her clothes and putting them back on without sparing a glance at Greg, who watched Kylie get dressed with even more desire than when she’d undressed.

“Are you serious, dude?” Greg asked as Carter went into the bathroom – still topless – and started wiping her breasts off.

“Yeah!” He said, sticking his head out the door. “Why, don’t you want to try being Kylie?”

“What are we going to do?”

“I dunno. Girl stuff?” Carter shrugged her top back on and zipped it a little higher than it had been, feeling the need for more support. His back hurt. He found a brush and started on her hair, not stopping until it fell smoothly and there was no break in the sheen from the bathroom light when he turned her head.

“Can we make out?”

“Ew, no!” Carter said. “I’m not a lesbian!” The longer he stayed Kylie, he thought, the more he felt the need to act like her. “Well, maybe I’m curious but I’m not kissing my sister!” He insisted. “You can go off on your own if you want to pick up guys, but be extra careful of the real Kylie and whatever you do, don’t tell anyone.” Carter didn’t want to be caught too and he was sure that if Greg got caught, he’d spill everything. Carter resigned himself to babysitting Greg wherever he went. “Actually, never mind. I’ll go with wherever you go.”

“So you can get the skinsuit back when we’re done?”

“Sure, that.” Carter skipped out and twirled in front of Greg, gold hair billowing behind him. “I’d ask if I looked alright, but you wouldn’t be able to see past the assets.” He hugged himself. “Besides, I know I’m perfect.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “I’ve already done some stuff she’s going to blame on Kitty and Kitty will deny and accuse her of making up. How about I make you the most popular boy in our class?”

“Uh…”

Carter grabbed Greg’s hand and pulled his arm around her waist, rubbing up against his side and pushing her hand into his back pocket. “Think of the talk when people see that you’re Kylie’s newest boy toy.” He reached across and squeezed Greg’s pants. “I think I have an answer here.” Disengaging only long enough for Greg to lock the front door, Carter proceeded to hang off of Greg as they walked back to Kitty’s house. Even when there was no one around, he giggled and pressed close. When they saw someone they knew, Carter pretended to be even more gaga for Greg, kissing his cheek, looking into his eyes, and even pushing him against a wall for a full makeout when a mutual friend and gossip rounded the corner in front of them. Carter had been somewhat distant in private despite his admitted need to show off, but now that they were being exhibitionists he felt wonderful. Greg was an okay kisser and not great at touching his Kylie body in an attractive way, but he was eager and the thought of so many of their friends and acquaintances seeing Kylie lip locked with Greg and being able to control that scene himself was all the stimulation Carter needed, on top of how his cock was being rubbed either by the suit when it was behaving and staying in or by her lacy underwear with a hint of rough denim whenever it started to escape and he had to press Greg’s hand to her crotch to push it back in. He’d pretend to try to find a private spot to make these adjustments, but knew that someone was watching and that Greg didn’t know what he was doing.

“Hi, Melinda!” He waved at Kitty’s friend as she passed.

“Uh, hi Kylie.” Melinda replied.

“Oh! This is Melinda, one of Kitty’s friends. Melinda, this is Greg.” Carter put her head on his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“Hi, uh.. Greg. Kylie, can we talk for a moment?” Melinda flashed Greg an insincere smile. “Excuse us. Girl stuff.”

“What’s going on?” She whispered when she and Carter were a few steps away. “Who’s Greg?”

“Oh, you know that guy I was supposed to babysit for? Well, we hit it off so well and his parents never said he had to stay home.” Carter said quietly but dreamily in Kitty’s voice.

“Girl, your first must be making you really horny.”

“Why do you say that?” Carter asked, pushing her bottom lip out. “I think he’s cute.”

“Maybe, but he’s two years younger than you and you’ve never shown much interest in boys before. I mean, not that way. It’s all cool crushing on some guy on TV, but isn’t this a little fast? Does he even know who you are?”

“Oh, well…” Carter pretended to be embarrassed.

“Your sister’s going to kill you!” Melinda hissed, fighting not to raise her voice.

“No one pays attention to me.” Carter complained. “I know I’ll grow into my sister’s figure eventually, but right now I feel a need and being my sis gives me the boost I need to get attention.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Melinda said.

“Don’t worry about it; it’s not that serious.”

“It looks serious to me.”

Carter impulsively kissed Melinda on the cheek but very close to her lips. “Really, I’m just having a little fun. Don’t be jealous.” With a giggle, he hurried back to Greg’s side and they departed, leaving the confused Melinda behind.

“Want to see something really fun?” Carter teased when they’d gone another block. Without waiting for Greg’s reply, he darted into a store, leaving Greg behind again. Carter knew Greg wouldn’t follow; Greg wasn’t allowed into the porn store.

Stores like this were rare and the printed porn and videos were mostly window dressing to the plugs, dildos, vibrators, whips, handcuffs, and other items on the racks and shelves. Carter didn’t recognize anyone there and thankfully they didn’t seem to know Kylie personally. It was a heady feeling being able to go in and not be addressed as ‘hey, kid’ or told to get out and come back in ten years. Technically he and Kitty were both old enough to go in, but neither looked it and it was more trouble than it was worth to argue with the people who worked there. Carter couldn’t get enough of how nobody objected – though some watched him very carefully, taking in his fit female body – to him being there, but Greg was waiting and might get into trouble if left for too long. He picked out a box with a picture of something with about four ends and needing six batteries, and took it to the front. On impulse, he also bought a magazine and a zipper hood. He’d tease Greg with the hood if Greg started to get too confident with him.

“Dude!” Greg whispered when they were on their way again. “Wow.”

“I know.” Carter said with a self-satisfied flirt of her hair. “I love looking like an adult.”

Carter was glad when they got to Kitty’s house without meeting any more ‘friends’. Sexually confusing Melinda and then following it up with a trip to buy a sex toy had been almost too much and he needed to calm down a little. The time it would take to switch skins and teach Greg a little about being a girl would give him the breather he needed. The raised voices from Kitty’s house, however, suggested that he’d have to wait. He put a delicate finger to her lips and motioned to Greg to hang back as he slipped off the heels and snuck up to a window to see what the commotion was about. He crouched low, peeking over the sill to see two Kittys arguing.

“I told you that you gave it to me!” One in a tight, low cut sweater said. Carter didn’t need to hear Kylie’s voice coming out of Kitty’s mouth nor see her press her fists into her waist to try to put her hands on her hips to know which was which.

“No, you didn’t! I told you very clearly that it disappeared from my hamper – now I know where! I told you right before you went on your date.” The real Kitty - still dressed in her after-pool clothes - said.

“Wow, sis, your first period must really be making you crazy. I was wearing this suit when I went on the date and we talked but not about that.”

“My first – “ Kitty sputtered and turned red, looking ready to slap her copy. “I’m not on my period!”

“Sure you are,” the fake Kitty said. “That’s why you’re so scatterbrained. Don’t worry; it gets easier after a couple times.”

“I – I can’t believe you’re saying this to me!” Kitty screamed. “I don’t want to talk to you. Just give me back my suit!”

“Yeah, well, you can forget about me covering for you at ballet. You can figure out your own excuses.” Kylie said, pulling off her top to show she wasn’t wearing a bra. Carter’s tightness in his crotch was joined by a pull and a squeeze on her butt. He looked at saw that Greg was crouching next to him and had probably been there for awhile, but the sight of the fake Kitty undressing in the middle of a heated argument had made his grip on the Kylie suit’s silicone ass grow tighter. They both watched as Kylie’s dramatic gesture was slowed by trying to wiggle out of the suit too fast and she got stuck. Kitty roughly yanked it away and Kylie’s boobs burst out of the restrictive suit, the binding on them being torn by the violence of her exit. All the other garments holding her in went as she wiggled out of the Kitty suit, not bothering to take its underwear and jeggings off. She threw the whole mass at Kitty and stomped upstairs.

“Yeah, well if you’re not going neither am I!” Kitty called up at her, still shaking. “You’re a terrible liar, you -” She cut herself off and ran upstairs too.

“I couldn’t help it,” Greg said when Carter looked at him. “Do you know how amazing your butt looks spread out and in that tight denim?”

“Maybe,” Carter said coquettishly.

“What do we do now?”

“We can’t stay here for much longer. People will start to notice. Let’s go around the back and-“ They were interrupted by both girls trying to leave at once and huffily ignoring each other, jostling as if the other sister was an inanimate obstruction. They’d dressed in record time and seemed determined to get away before their parents got home, so they would both be equally in trouble for missing dance and not have to cover or make excuses. Carter and Greg both ran around to the side of the house and waited until Kitty and Kylie had stalked off in opposite directions.

“Great!” Carter said, fishing around in Kitty’s Kylie purse. “I’ve got the keys and they’ll be fuming for a long time.” He thought about what he’d done in the suit. “A very long time if they meet the wrong people.”

They went inside and Carter looked around. “I can always tell her – my – parents that I invited you in, but I might be between suits when they get here. You’d better hide in my room while I get ready.”

“Why can’t I go with you?”

Carter dropped back to his own voice. “Dude, do you want to see me naked? Really?”

“I guess not.”

“Good. Hide in Kylie’s room. I won’t be long.”

They went upstairs and Carter made sure that Greg was situated before going into Kitty’s room and locking the door just in case. Carter posed in front of Kitty’s mirror, arms stretched up and elbows bent so her hands were behind her head. “It’s been an eventful day.” She told herself. “I guess I really am babysitting now, aren’t I?” He giggled. As expected, Kitty had dumped her suit on the bed, uncaring of what might happen in her anger. Carter took it with him into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Lathering up Kylie’s body was much more sexually charged but less a show of the girl he was crushing on. He loved pushing her breasts together on the foam and watching the lather stream down her long, toned thighs. It didn’t take much for her larger, looser vulva to disgorge Carter’s cock. “I guess after all the time you’ve spent inside me and all the spunk you’ve pumped into me that you need to get clean too.” He told it. He rubbed it against her flat belly. “I love having a dick.”

Kitty’s clothes had fallen from her suit’s deflated body easily and Carter pulled it in with him, washing it inside and out and then taking off the Kylie suit – getting out of the shower when he realized the undersuit probably wasn’t as washable - to do the same. The suits dried as quickly as before and soon Carter was out of the bathroom and pulling on the Kitty suit again.

“I missed you so much.” He said in her voice to her reflection. “Your sister’s a hottie, but you’re so much cuter and weirdly more mature than she is.” The mirror Kitty smiled at the compliment and clasped her hands behind her back. “Oh, but we have a boy to feminize!” She told herself. “Mustn’t keep him waiting for too long or he might do something he oughtn’t. Then we’d have to discipline him.” He toyed with the zipper on the Kylie suit. “I wonder if this comes off.”

Carter was confident that now he knew a little more about tucking that Kitty’s tight slit wouldn’t let him down. He picked out a pair of bright pink panties and a knee length strapless dress with an elastic top that hugged her under the armpits. Giving her hair some quick brushes, she danced out and knocked on Kylie’s door. “Sis?” She said. “Greg?” He whispered.

Greg opened the door. “Uh, hi Kitty.”

Carter handed him the Kylie suit and undersuit. “Let me know if you have any problems, sis.” He said, back in Kitty’s voice. “I’m always up for helping with a makeover.”

“Umm… I should be OK.” Greg said and darted back in, closing the door behind him. Carter giggled. Greg was shy about showing his body to Kitty! He played with her skirt for awhile, did some pirouettes, went into Kitty’s room to see how a dress changed how she should move, and finally got tired of it and went into Kylie’s room without knocking.

Greg had gotten into the silicone padded layer, but was only hip deep in Kylie, his youthful penis sticking out of her and his face red from pulling. He started and turned away when Carter walked in. Carter sighed. “Let me help, sis.” He untangled the suit and smoothed it up Greg’s body, ignoring how his ministrations made Greg go hard. He held the skinsuit for Greg to duck into the side hole and helped pull the arms up and do the zipper. “I’m not helping with that.” He said, pointing at Greg’s hard-on. “Like I said, sister stuff’s off limits.”

Greg’s Kylie face was a picture of embarrassment. “Yeah, I can take it from here.”

“Need any dress tips?” Carter asked sweetly.

“I – I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay, sis! Don’t take too long.” Carter giggled again as he closed the door. Teasing Greg this was almost better. It was Kitty’s house, so he tried to feel casual as he sat in her living room and watched TV, waiting for Greg to get himself settled in the Kylie skin.

Greg took so long that Carter was worried the sisters would come back and catch them. He’d been shifting in his seat and thinking about going up again when Greg appeared at the top of the steps, clinging to the rail as he descended. Carter thought it might have been a mistake to go straight to wearing heels – especially three inch circular heels - but at least Kylie looked stunning even when clumsy and wearing a very nervous smile. Kylie was taller than Kitty, so the stretchy skinsuit fit Greg better than it had Carter and it showed in this Kylie’s even longer legs and bigger figure. Greg had apparently found out how treacherously loose Kylie could be down below and was also wearing skinny jeans, though he’d gone with a top that Kylie seemed to particularly like, a very tight T-shirt with a low, square neck. “Looking good, sis!” Carter said and Greg smiled shyly and turned to display her body. He twisted back to face Carter quickly and grabbed her boobs, shifting them around as if unsure if they were sitting in the right place.

“These are amazing,” he breathed, failing miserably to sound at all female. “I wish I could feel them.”

“I wish you could open your mouth without sounding like either a man or someone with strep throat.” Carter replied. “I guess I’ll be doing the talking. So much for you going anywhere adult.”

“That’s OK. I’m not – what do we do?”

“I thought we’d –“ Carter’s explanation of his plan to hit on and embarrass bullies was derailed when Kitty and Kylie’s parents got home.

“Sweetbun! Honeygirl!” Their new mother said when she saw them. “You should be dressed for your practice already!” That’s when Carter remembered all the ‘ballet’ references even he’d started making.

“Sorry, mom! We got to talking and lost track.” Carter said quickly. “Come on, sis. We can get ready fast.” He promised Kitty’s mother.

“You’d better. Five minutes.”

Greg tried to look annoyed and huffy as he turned to go upstairs, leaving the heels behind so as not to draw any more suspicion than he had to.

“I’ll show you where Kylie’s ballet dress is.” Carter told him. “But we don’t have time for me to show you how to wear it so you’d better figure that part out fast.”

“How come you’re so much better at being a girl than I am?” Greg asked as Carter opened Kylie’s closet and took out the pink-on-pink outfit.

“Delayed puberty and a lot of thought.” Carter said. He ran out of Kylie’s room and undressed as fast as he could. The outfit was actually quite easy to put on. The pale pink leggings didn’t appear to require underwear and in a second he was putting her arms into the straps of the darker pink leotard. He’d expected a puffy pink chiffon skirt but apparently both sisters were too old for that. He spent most of his five minutes online looking up how to lace Kitty’s ballet shoes and learning how to make a ponytail with a ribbon that had no elastic in it.

Greg didn’t take much longer than Carter and Carter was glad of how tight Kitty’s skin was when he saw Greg in Kylie’s ballet outfit. While they were pretty much just different sizes of the same uniform, they also provided only minimal support and Carter couldn’t help but politely let Greg go first so he could watch Kylie’s boobs and butt jiggle and jump in the tight but very stretchy costume. The cut also left Kylie’s ass hanging out on both sides, and her breasts stretched the fabric so much that he had more cleavage now than in anything Carter had seen so far. It occurred to him that he’d never seen a busty girl to ballet. One thing he was doing oddly was walking bowlegged and before they went downstairs, Carter pushed Greg’s knees together.

“Man that-” Greg whimpered, biting her lip.

“I know, but you look weird as a girl walking that way.” Carter commiserated.

“There you are! We’re almost late.” Kitty’s mom scolded them when they got downstairs.

“Sorry, mom.” Carter said.

They piled into the car and Greg leaned over to whisper as quietly as he could. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ll explain you’re sick and we’ll just do as best as we can. If it really goes badly, you’re sick and apparently I’m on my first period. It’s worked up until now.”

“I’m kinda disappointed I didn’t get to do more with this.” Greg said. “It was going to be so much fun making some of the guys drool and getting them to do stupid stuff.”

“Maybe they’ll decide we’re useless and let us out early.” Carter said. “One thing’s for certain; we can’t go back to Kitty’s house after ballet. They’ll be back by then. Besides, if we’re dressed like this, all the other girls will be too, and maybe we’ll be able to watch them for as long as we like since they’ll just think we’re girls too.”

The boys in girls’ clothing rode in silence from then on, both watching the same thing. With every little bump, Kylie’s rack would heave and Carter was finding Kitty’s ballet uniform to be surprisingly sensual. It didn’t escape notice that Carter was watching and rubbing her legs together and he bounced higher with the next couple of bumps, her boobs seeming to defy logic and gravity in how well they stayed in her leotard. He gave Carter the satisfaction – and probably also provided some sibling realism – by going first again when they got out of the car, adding a lot more swing to his step than he had to. “Oh, my shoe.” He mouthed, bending over and sticking her rear end almost in Carter’s face, pale pink cheeks bisected by far too little dark pink which thankfully showed only a well developed camel toe with no sign of anything poking between the lips.

Resisting the urge to slap it, Carter waited politely for his ‘sister’ to tie her shoe again and they waved to Kitty’s mom as they went inside. Neither had ever been inside the dance studio before and they must have looked strangely confused as both boys in the sisters’ skins looked around to try to work out where they were going. “Girls, girls!” They heard from off to one side. A slender mature woman with her hair tied back severely was gesturing at them. “Why do you stand around? Come! Come!” It was Mrs. Finch, a woman who was as non-foreign as could be. He’d heard Kitty saying how silly she was trying to act like a deva during dance lessons but this was the first time Carter had seen her doing her ‘madame’ act. It wasn’t that bad.

“Sorry, miss.” Carter said demurely. He broke into a jog and turned to watch Greg for as long as he dared. As he’d hoped, Greg had done his best to keep up and his Kylie body was bouncing everywhere. “Miss, Kylie’s a little sick today.” Carter told her. “It doesn’t hurt, but she can’t talk.”

“Good.” Mrs. Finch sniffed. “That means she also can’t talk back.” When she turned her back, Greg stuck his tongue out at her.

“You were so right.” Greg whispered in Carter’s ear. The room was filled with young women from twelve to thirty, all in tight leotards and doing various warmup poses. The two boys in sisters’ skins tried to keep up as best they could and at first it seemed like they were doing well.

“No, no!” Finch said as Greg hesitantly spread her legs. “You are zho steeff!” Carter watched aghast as she applied a constant but firm pressure to Greg’s shoulders, forcing him into a full split. Carter could see that it was all Greg could do not to cry out in pain, and Carter immediately switched to a different set of exercises.

“Kitty! You are as bad as your seester today!” Finch said, and watched Carter closely, corrected every tiny movement he made. Greg, meanwhile, was recovering a little, helped along by his obvious regard for the other ladies in the room – though he did a good job of making it seem like he was trying to correct his technique by watching them.

“All right!” Mrs. Finch said after what felt like hours of forcing Carter’s body into contortions that he never knew he could reach and which made him very glad he was in the Kitty suit rather than the Kylie and didn’t have to worry too much about anything slipping out when he had to rest her leg on the bar. “Now, today the boy’s couldn’t make it-” she waited for the sighs and groans from the teenagers and some of the twenty-somethings to fade away, “so you’ll all have to practice the recital dance with each other. We’re moving on to a very intimate scene between Peitro and Glasya, so it may be for the best that you all work with each other before you try this with the boys. Oh, all the juniors must go to zee ozzer class today.” She admonished, and all the girls under eighteen sighed and trudged out of the room. Finch turned on a video of two dancers doing the motions of the scene she was describing in slow motion. “Kitty, you may be small but you have the right shape so you’ll be Pietro today with Lydia.” Carter’s heart raced. Lydia was a cute, petite brunette from his math class who though short was also well endowed and often wore low cut tops. He’d looked at her a lot during class and had to remind himself as he stepped forward to take her hand that he not only wore the face of a girl, but an older one. He had to act as if this was no big deal and be confidently casual with the ‘less experienced’ partner. The choice was obvious since Lydia was one of the few people shorter than Carter and Kitty who was near their age.

“Kylie, you have if anything too much of the right shape, so you can be with Ophin.” Carter didn’t have long to think that Greg had better hope he could keep up. Ophin was also in their class, a tall and athletic girl who they perved on in gym class because her proportionally longer legs made her shorts seem all the briefer. Greg’s partner strode gracefully up to him and the last thing Carter saw was the fake Kylie smiling weakly and allowing herself to have her waist encircled by the taller girl, the disguised boy’s boobs supporting Ophin’s smaller set on top of them. Belatedly Carter mimicked Ophin’s gesture on Lydia, trying not to look down her leotard and instead focus on the video and their dance. At first it was just twirling and simple steps Carter could keep up with and which demanded his focus and distracted him mercifully from how close he was to a real girl who was pretty, his age, and unaware that she was being led by a boy. Carter was very sure that the chance brushes when her hand went too low, or their faces turned in the same direction too quickly would be brushed off so easily otherwise. Finch was looking at him approvingly. “You are no zo graceful today, but you dance well as a man. Eet will be good practice for Lydia.”

Then came the part that was why it was an ‘intimate’ dance and why everyone under eighteen had been shooed away. All of a sudden Carter was being forced – though not unwillingly – to place her hands over Lydia’s rear, her middle, turning her around, grasping her at the chest and probably with more of a squeeze than was strictly necessary judging from Lydia’s quick intake of breath. A few motions side to side, some steps, and then Carter’s hands were over Lydia’s belly and – he gulped – wrapped around her thighs with Carter’s Kitty pinkies just touching Lydia’s pubic arch. He was breathing hard and the dance paused for much too long for his comfort. It was great to feel up Lydia and taking an agonizing amount of willpower to keep from taking it further, to force her hands not to wander.

Then they were off again and Carter felt if anything more sexually strained as the dynamic altered and he was the one being dominated. Lydia’s hands grasping her chest – by the feel and the wrinkles of her leotard, Carter guessed she was getting her own groping in. Then motions around Carter’s belly and groin, with an added squeeze that caused Carter’s eyes to water so much that he wasn’t sure if it was Lydia’s initiative or from the video.

“Break and sweetch!” Finch said.

Carter wasn’t sure he could do it all over again, but was proud of himself for competently following the video and not losing his self-control and taking the dance too far. Lydia was flushed and gave Carter a strange look. “Wow, Kitty. You really put a lot of realism into that.”

“Thanks.” Carter said hesitantly.

“I almost hope the real boy I’m paired with decides to get that familiar. Maybe that cutie from Sector R24.” She continued.

“Yeah, he’s hot.” Carter agreed.

“Madame is right. It’s good for us to practice like this first. I’m not sure how I’d have handled it if my first time in this scene was with a real male dancer.” Lydia continued. “Thanks again.” She said softly, darted a look around, and kissed Carter on the lips. “I’m going to get a drink!” She said more loudly and ran off.

Things were looking up for Carter. He could almost imagine going through that routine again without fainting or making out with Lydia on the spot now that he knew she was … interested in more. It strangely made the whole thing sexually easier than when he was feeling like his touches were going too far. He looked around and his stomach fell out. Greg was chatting easily with Ophin, her back turned to Carter. He was swinging her hips and butt back and forth and right between her legs was … a tiny bit of a circle peeking through. Greg had been as affected as Carter, but Kylie’s skin was stretchier and a little bigger, and though Greg himself was also larger it wasn’t enough. Carter didn’t run, but moved with purpose to Greg’s side. “Sis, let’s go freshen up. Hi, Ophin. Be right back!” ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed to her and tried to gesture that Kylie needed to take some kind of medicine.

“Hi, Kitty!” Ophin smiled and nodded her understanding.

Greg resisted slightly, then gave up and let Carter pull him into the hall and down to a single person bathroom. “What?” He asked when Carter locked the door.

“You’re hanging out.” Carter told him.

Greg looked panicked and embarrassed and felt around her crotch until he found the offending bulge right at the back. With a lot of pushing and stretching, he got her labia to enfold around it again and pull his cock back where it belonged. Twisting around to look at her bursting backside in the mirror, Greg smiled nervously at Carter. “Thanks, dude. That Ophin is a hot dancer.”

“And you’re just a little too loose with her.” Carter said. “I’d better tell Finch that you’re too sick to keep going.”

“I can handle it!”

“I’m worried that when she takes the female part, she’s going to end up handling it.” Carter said. “We need to find something else to do.” He opened the door and then closed it immediately, pressing her back to the cold metal. “Kitty and Kylie are out there! They must have spare outfits.” He squeaked, losing his control for a moment and speaking in his own voice.

“We gotta get out of here!” Greg said back in a high pitched whimper.

“If we’re sneaky, we can get past them. Come on.”

Unfortunately for them, bright pink isn’t the easiest thing to walk around in unseen. Nor were they in the bodies of inconspicuous people – especially Greg in the Kylie suit. Their footfalls were silent, but their motion caught Kitty’s eye and she called out something neither of them heard since the moment she turned to look at them, they started running. Carter darted a look over her shoulder and saw both sisters sprinting to catch up, but for once being boys in girls’ skins was in their favor. Having their cocks bound seemed to help, and though Greg was hampered by Kylie’s figure and both of them with unfamiliar hair, they were still faster than the sisters, and gained ground on them. Neither pair wanted to be seen in a crowded place, so they zigzagged through mostly empty parks, side streets, and back yards. Two Kylies’ heaving bosoms would have been a wet dream, as would being chased by Kitty, but it wasn’t Carter’s lucky day for that. Leaping a fence, they finally lost the sisters and laid low until they were sure that the two had given up. Carter could only imagine how vengeful they would have been had they caught the boys, first for stealing their suits, second for doing things they’d never be able to fully explain, and third for being such pervs as to voyeur in their lives and their bodies.

“I’m done with this!” Greg said, reaching under her leotard. “I can explain walking home naked more easily than looking like Kylie.” Carter didn’t stop him as he stripped out of the Kylie suit. They’d ended up back at the pool and in the girls’ changing room. Unfortunately Carter’s parents had – as he knew – taken his stuff home with them. There was an abandoned satchel lying on one bench and Carter stuffed the Kylie suit into it. “Have it your own way.” He said and kissed Greg on the cheek. “Thanks for giving a girl a good time.”

“Yeah, same here.” Greg smiled. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again … with girls who aren’t real or at least who don’t live in this Sector.” He ran off, grabbing a towel from a rack to pretend like he’d somehow lost his swimsuit. Carter heard a squeal as Greg left and went to investigate.

“Boys.” He said to the annoyed looking woman who was on her way into the changing room. “Either brainless or hormone crazed.”

“Preach it, sister.” The young lady said. Carter might have stayed to appreciate her changing into a bikini, but decided he didn’t want to open himself up to questions about why he was wearing a leotard and tights at the pool. His trip back home was uneventful, though his father met him at the door. “Hi!” Carter said cheerfully. “I just got back from ballet practice. Carter should be home any moment now; I just came to bring back his spare swimsuit.” He patted the satchel. “I’ll leave it in his room.”

“Thanks, Kitty.” Carter’s mom said from another room. “That boy forgets everything.”

“You should come over more often.” His father added. “We don’t see you around as much as we’d like. A nice girl like is a change of pace.”

“I might be here more soon.” Carter promised, and went into his room. He got out of the Kitty suit as fast as he could, got dressed, swung down a tree branch, and called ‘bye’ in Kitty’s voice before walking through the front door as himself. “Sorry I left with Kitty.” He said to his annoyed mom. “Things got a little confused when she invited me over.”

“Well, sit down and have some dinner.” His mother said with a long suffering eye roll. “And if you see Kitty again before I do, tell her that she’s welcome over this weekend to pay her family back for taking you in all day.”

“Will do, mom.”

***

Carter ran a brush through her short black hair one more time and Kate waved to her reflection. It was amazing how a little makeup and a pair of B-cup silicone forms under the skin could mesh with a wig and a little bit of padding to make a girl into a completely different person. “I should go visit Kitty today.” Carter giggled into her shoulder and swatted at the mirror. She got up and walked with an exaggerated hip swing to her closet. “Cyra hadn’t had a chance to get out lately, though.” She mused, taking down the Kylie suit, a flaming red wig, and the undersuit, now even more heavily padded on the chest to give his older female form an absolutely out-of-this-world rack. She turned back and held up the Kylie skin as if it were a dress. “Oh, no.” She reached up and tucked a yellow strand behind her ear. “Your inner cousin is starting to break through again.” She sat and meticulously secured the longer blonde hair that spilled out from under her wig cap, then turned back to Cyra. “What to do? A quite girls’ day out, or some excitement?”

Kate was a regular at many inter-Sector events and after shyly avoiding Kitty and her friends for a long time had admitted that she was a little jealous of how Kitty would probably always look ten years younger. “I know it sucks now,” she’d said. “But imagine what it’ll be like when we’re forty!” Kate was outspoken and a bit of a goth, cutting her black hair short and often wearing pale makeup and long frilly dresses. These layers went down all the way to her frilly lace boyshorts, as one or two very lucky boys had learned. The petite twenty-something never went further than underwear and a handjob, though she always was willing to go twice with a boy who liked watching her get dressed again.

Cyra was known more to the night life than the sanctioned activities. She flaunted her stellar figure as much as she could and though Carter had at first been overly affected – and overly amorous – by drinking, he soon got used to it and positively reveled in all the things he could do while appearing over all major age limits. Cyra wasn’t afraid to take it all off, but always refused penetration, instead producing a toy from her purse that changed from week to week. Always willing to try something new as long as it wasn’t vaginal, she was a much loved no-strings-attached kind of gal, and there were a very small handful of men who were sworn to secrecy and trusted to see that the incredibly busty sex pot was an illegal skinsuit, disguising a repressed goth girl who wasn’t quite old enough yet to go clubbing alone. Carter never failed to be supremely aroused by revealing ‘herself’ nor at the idea that he was effectively a young man trapped in the body of a preteen dressed in the skinsuit of an early twenties girl trapped in the body of a fourteen-year-old, disguised as a precocious goth girl using her sister’s skinsuit to pretend to be a busty clubber.

During his reminiscence Carter had ducked into the Kylie suit and donned the red wig. She zipped herself up and hefted her enormous breasts. “I love having manly strength.” She said to herself. “It makes hooking my bra so much easier.”

I , Vera
By Paul Calhoun

A pair of engineers with a prototype hollow female robot covered in a sexy secretary skin hear the boss coming. By the time the night of over, they'll have heard him come in several different places.

With a light clicking of heels on tile, Vera walked into Harry’s lab. With her coiffed brown hair, dark hose, white blouse and black pencil skirt, Vera was the perfect picture of an executive secretary. “Hello, Harry,” she said.

“Good morning, Vera.” He replied.

Vera minced over to a clear table and sat down on it, crossing her legs and putting a clipboard in her lap. “Now, your appointments today are a staff meeting at two, a face-to-face with the boss at three and —“ she looked up and nibbled on the pen, “- a blow job from me at four. According to my calendar, you may be getting more than that if your performance is good.”

Harry rubbed her nylon covered leg. “And how can I be sure I’m performing well?” He said, moving to bite her neck.

“I can do an appraisal right now. Your schedule is clear for the next hour.”

“Sounds good,” Harry murmured, moving up to kiss her. When their lips met, Vera went completely stiff and stared out into the distance.

“So, Harry,” a male voice asked with Vera’s sexual undertones, “how was that?” A young, lightly built engineer walked in, still wearing the robot’s control harness, a purple lycra bodysuit overlayed with an array of electrodes, monitors and wires which were stuck down flush to the bodysuit.

“Brilliant. Absolutely amazing,” Harry said to Greg. “She looked good, sounded good and even moved and felt like a naughty secretary. We’re going to make a fortune on these.”

“Let’s just hope we can convince old sourpuss,” their nickname for the owner of the company. He was under fifty, but was a very conservative businessman who never liked to risk the company’s image. They’d tried pitching the hollow robot as an industrial tool, but it was too light for that. Then they’d developed these skins for them and tried the tact that they’d be good as the sort of robotic avatars they had in movies. Still no dice; the boss didn’t want people using them for things like sex, which was exactly their biggest market. The company always retained majority share in all patents, so there wasn’t much the two of them could do. Especially after their second pitch had resulted in Mr. Kingsley reassigning Greg to another department.

The phone rang and Harry’s face went white. “It’s Kingsley! He’s on his way up,” he said when he put the receiver down.

“Damn! He’ll fire both of us if he catches me in here with her!”

“There’s only one elevator and he’ll be in it by now.” Harry said.

“Stall him. I have an idea.” Greg said. Harry knew exactly what Greg was thinking as he picked up Vera and dragged her into the small bathroom attached to the lab.
He didn’t have enough time to argue and no better idea, so he composed himself and opened the door when Kingsley arrived. “Hello, sir. What can I help you with?”

“Just passing through.” Kingsley said. “You know how I like to check on everyone every so often. So, what are you working on here?”
Harry explained about his current low voltage power supply project, all the while aware of the occasional bumps and rustles coming from the bathroom. When he was done, Kingsley said, “Fascinating. Would you mind if I used your bathroom?”

“Of course not ,sir, but there’s someone in there already.”
Kingsley’s expression darkened. “Not that no-good filthy punk you used to work with, I hope. You were so respectable until you partnered with him. I make it a policy not to enquire into what my employees do in their off hours, but if he’s been around here trying to get you into another of his sordid schemes…”
“No, sir! No, it’s my sister. She’s in town this week and I wanted to show her where I worked. She’ll be out soon.”
Kingsley went over to the door and knocked.
This project had given Greg plenty of experience with women’s clothes, which was why he’d stripped the robot and had its skin off by the time Kingsley knocked. He was still wearing the control gear, so all he had to do was turn it on and call, “I’ll be right out,” in Vera’s voice. It wouldn’t hold Kingsley forever, but it might get him enough time to hide in plain sight.
The best way to teach robots natural movement was to move them and then have them mimic the movement just produced. Thus the two engineers had the idea of producing a hollow one that opened up. A series of horizontal lines crossed the robot at regular intervals with a vertical line down the head and back, each leg and each arm, creating paired panels about an inch tall which locked together. For small maintenance, a pair of panels could be opened and work done. When the robot was put in teaching mode, all the panels sprang open at once. This is what Greg ordered it to do now.

Greg stood the robot up and stepped into it. For reasons of safety, each panel pair closed separately and in series. Greg was fine for the first couple of inches, but then had to bend down and push to get them to close. He’d taught the first, somewhat larger, robot himself. When the time came for a female version, he’d gotten several of the ladies from around the building to take turns being bundled in and spending an hour or so doing different things so the robot could get a general female template to work off of. Its current program had been heavier on one particular woman who was an office flirt and made the best model for the ‘naughty secretary’ simulation. Their voices had also been blended together to form a gestalt voice for Vera.

The knock came again as Greg was pushing with all his strength on his mid-back, barely able to twist far enough in the robotic body which was not yet fully reactivated as so much of it was still open. It hadn’t been meant for a man and certainly not to be entered alone. “Just a minute!” Vera called again. With a loud click, that panel closed and the rest went with only a little bit of shifting from Greg. His gut was being pushed in by the unyielding plastic-ceramic of the robot, padded slightly on the inside for the comfort of the user, not to mention his trapped manhood and compressed arms and legs. Back together, it reacted again to the control harness.

Most of the body was featureless, though it had shaped actuators and effectors on the face and a few other areas as well as sensors to tell when the robot was being touched in various places and to transmit that feeling to the operator. It wasn’t super sensitive, but it got the required result. Greg didn’t need the artificial orifices — mouth, nostrils and so on - and they fell out when his took their place. It was also slick and though that made it easier to get the skin on, it made it harder for Greg to get the skin over the robot’s outer shell with the slippery fingers. He finally got one arm into the skin’s and used that to awkwardly slide the other arm in and wriggle into the rest of the skin. It sealed in back with a small quantity of pressure and would only split again with a specific pressure placed on the back of the neck. Greg moved to throw the long brown hair out of his face and was taken by surprise when the robot made a slightly different motion which reflected in the mirror as a playful toss of the head. The flirt program was still active!

There was no time to change that, but Greg did enjoy the sight of Vera putting her clothes back on in a slightly more provocative way than anything Greg intended. The algorithms were very good and he started to get the hang of making a motion and then letting the robot guide him into a feminine mirror of what he was trying to do. Now the robot was teaching him. Greg allowed a small amount of the lace bra show above the blouse and put her hair back into its secretarial bun before opening the door. “I’m so sorry. I had a little trouble. Oh, hello.” She said to Kingsley, giving him a quick look up and down before smiling and holding out a manicured hand. “I’m Vera.”

Kingsley took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “Frank.”

“Mr. Kingsley owns the company.” Harry added.

“Yes, and I must say that I wish all my employees had such charming relatives,” he said, still lightly grasping Vera’s fingertips.

Vera placed her other hand on her chest. “Why thank you!”

“I would hate to intrude on family time, but might you be free tonight for dinner?”

“I don’t know…” Greg hadn’t expected the boss to fall for Vera like that. He was in way over his head and cast a pleading glance to Harry.

Harry stepped in. “Well, sis, we can always tour the winery tomorrow. I’m sure you and Mr. Kingsley will have a great time.”

“Your brother’s address is on file. I’ll pick you up at seven.” Kingsley kissed Vera’s hand again, smiled at her and departed.

“What was that about, you asshole?” Greg snarled, though Vera’s voice, body and automated mannerisms disarmed the threatening nature of his glare.

“Getting both our projects a boost.” Harry replied. “If you make a good impression on the boss tonight, he might look at both of us with a bit more favor.”

“Screw that! I’m not dating Kingsley just to get you in with him. Why can’t you put this on and do it?”

“I won’t fit, silly. Besides, won’t it look weird if I’m not home to greet him?”

“What about the other girls? The ones who we used as templates for Vera.” Greg was grasping at straws and Vera sounded like she was wheedling.

Harry shook his head. “Too much of a risk for them. Besides, it’s one thing for you to cozy up to him in disguise and a whole ‘nother for them to do it. I wouldn’t as a real lady to do that for me.”

Vera huffed. “I’m plenty lady for this.” She hopped daintily up onto the desk and crossed her legs like she had when Greg was outside of her. She leaned down and their noses almost touched. “Aren’t I, stud?” She breathed.

“Yes, so you’ll do it?”

“Fine. But he’d better take me somewhere nice and give me presents!” Vera scolded.

“I’m sure you’ll be the pampered princess of the night.”

“Good, and to start the pampering ,you’re helping me find something to wear. I can hardly go on a date in this,” she gestured to their fantasy secretary uniform. “I want something that actually fits my boobs rather that makes it look like they’re going to burst out. Oh, and I’ll need makeup and a purse and —“

“I guess we’ll both be taking the rest of the day off,” Harry sighed. “Come on. Let’s go get you all prettied up for the boss.”

Harry and Vera spent the rest of the day at various stores picking out what Vera was going to wear that night. Greg had never seemed the choosy type, but Vera was adamant about trying on everything that looked remotely good on her and quite a lot did. When they got to Harry’s place, Harry found himself kicked out of his bedroom while Vera got herself ready. “It’s not seemly, a brother seeing his sister naked.” Vera said. When she emerged, Harry was sure that Kingsley would increase his budget. She was wearing a cocktail dress, dramatic makeup and black high heeled pumps. What made the whole outfit really work was that she’d stopped off at a salon and had her hair teased out and put up so that it rose and then fell in loose curls down her back. “So, bro, how do I look?” She asked, turning around for him.

“I wish I had a sister that hot.” Harry said.

“Oh, that’s so sweet. I think. Well, you don’t, so that’s even better because it won’t be incestuous when I practice this on you.” She leaned over and forced her tongue between his lips. He was so surprised that he reacted as if it wasn’t his coworker in a robotic female disguise and wrapped his arms around her. “Not the hair,” she said, firmly moving his hands down her back to her butt. “That’s better.” She purred. She wrapped her legs around his torso and forced him to cup her rear to keep her from falling down. “Now, isn’t it a shame that Kingsley’s getting this rather than you?” She asked sweetly, disengaging and checking her hair and dress to make sure they hadn’t been messed up.

“That’s one hell of a practice run.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it and since you’ve gotten me into this mess, you’re not going to.” Vera replied, still sugary sweet. “No, all this is for the sugar daddy you hooked me up with.” The doorbell rang. “And there he is. Don’t wait up, bro.”

“And don’t cash a check your fanny can’t handle, sis.”

Vera waved a single finger behind her and opened the door, a happy smile ready for Kingsley, who waved to Harry before taking Vera’s hand and departing. As Harry watched Vera’s departing back — not being able to help staring at her body — he wondered who was screwing whom.

Greg was still very uncomfortable squeezed into the hard robotic shell overlayed with soft silicone filled skin and feminine clothing. Not that he was about to admit that to Harry. He’d played around with using the robot to act out their various fantasies and in a way he felt like he was still at it. Playing the defiant but dominated woman whose only weapon was sex appeal and whether someone got any. Greg knew that Harry would spend the rest of the night wondering what he was doing with Kingsley. Maybe if Vera had a good time, she’d reward Harry. Of course, he’d have to make it up to her by making his reward all about her. Harry had never been willing to let their female avatar tie him up or put him in silly costumes. Well, if he wanted any more from her, he was going to have to swallow his pride just like Greg was swallowing his to go on a date as Vera and there was no telling what Vera was going to have to swallow by the end of the night.

On the other hand, he’d gotten used to playing around with men from the simulations and the feeling of the air on her pantyhose and the swirl of an expensive dress made the arm around her middle seem right. When Kingsley held the door for her, she even remembered to flick her skirt so that she sat down like a proper lady. Or maybe it was the robot, Vera didn’t care. It just meant she could pay attention to her date and let the algorithms and servos take care of making her look like she had the correct feminine movements. The hip swing it had forced on him was having an effect on his trapped hard-on, relaxing him whether he liked it or not.

“So, what do you do?” Kingsley asked.

“Me?” Vera squeaked. “Oh, um,” her voice gained a bit of the confidence she’d shown Harry. “I’m an admin assistant for a small company in Ricksburg. Nothing big, but I like it.”

“Really?” Kingsley sounded genuinely interested. “Well, I’m in the market for a new assistant. I can make it worth your while to move.” He rested his hand on Vera’s knee.

Her first instinct was to gently push it off, but Harry was counting on her and Greg was thinking that he might be able to get a bit out of it himself if he played Kingsley right. Vera put both hands on Kingsley’s and squeezed. “I do pretty well even if it’s a small place.” She said, trying to get the right degree of doubt into her voice. As if a company loyalty was being tested by a nice offer from a handsome man.

“Why don’t you wait on your answer until later tonight,” Kingsley replied. He pulled up in front of a marquee and opened the door for Vera.
She looked up and barely had to manufacture a gasp of surprise and delight. “How did you get a reservation here so quickly?”
“I know the owner very well,” Kingsely responded. He offered his arm. “Shall we?” Vera wrapped hers around him and walked as close beside him as she could. She was looking forward to this meal a lot more. If only her plastic form underneath would let her eat it.
Before she knew it, Kingsley had gently pushed a seat under her and ordered. She barely had a chance to thank him when the wine arrived. She took a careful sip. “This is very good.” Greg had no idea whether wine was good or not.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Kingsley took a slightly larger drink from his glass. “Yes. It’s a good vintage indeed.” Vera could tell that his gaze was switching back and forth from her face to the large amount of cleavage her dress left visible. She leaned forward slightly, giving him a better view. “So what’s it like being a rich industrialist?”
“Well, for one thing, bathing in gold coins is a lot more painful than Scrooge McDuck makes it look like. I know from experience!”
Vera laughed and to her surprise found that she’d been genuinely amused. Greg was normally a beer drinker and as Vera took larger and larger drinks, she wondered why everyone talked about getting drunk from wine. She was having no problem at all and was already refilling her glass! She did miss the first time Kingsley went for a toast, but that was more to do with the sudden pang of pain from her belly after eating more than she should have than from the drink. The conversation was going great and she was finding it so easy to make up an whole new life for herself, but that pain made her wonder if she should relieve herself. “Excuse me,” she said, getting up.
Greg’s first trip into a ladies’ bathroom was a little surreal. He hadn’t been ready for the antechamber before the real toilet area, but Vera took the opportunity to sink into the plush sofa and look at herself in the mirror. A beautiful brown haired woman in a cocktail dress looked back. Nothing wrong with that reflection, she thought. Getting back up, she made her way to a stall and only later wished she’d made a better urethral opening back when she was a man. Her return to the table was accompanied by a much wider swaying of her hips than before, the result of the robot correcting her slightly tipsy lack of balance into the closest analogue it had stored. She leaned over with her hands on the back of the chair and asked, “Missed me?”
To Kingsley, his date looked like she was hot and ready to come home with him right then and the bill was paid despite her protestations at wanting dessert. She didn’t protest, however, when Kingsley suggested she join him for coffee at his penthouse. It sounded like a way better night than going home to his own messy apartment and she wasn’t in the mood to try to start on making Harry into her fantasy slave. She allowed herself to be helped to her feet by Kingsley and clung to him all the way to the car. She thought about resting her hand on his crotch while he drove, but she decided she wasn’t that kind of girl.

Though the robot made things a lot easier, Vera’s legs and feet still hurt when she got out of the car. It was a fight against the machine, but Vera contrived to stumble and just as she’d hoped, Kingsley not only caught her, but swept her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and snuggled into his chest. “Thank you.”

“Any man would have done the same,” Kingsley said.

There was a fire already in the hearth in his penthouse living room and he set her gently down on an arm chair before going to get the coffee. Vera was feeling sleepy and comfortable and pulled her legs up under her. She might have fallen asleep there if Kingsley hadn’t come back quickly with the coffee. “Mmm. This is good too.” She said. Coffee she knew and it was very good.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” They sipped their coffee in silence. Kingsley never took his eyes off of Vera and Vera was starting to feel flattered that someone who could obviously have picked anyone he wanted was paying so much attention to her. It was getting harder and harder to think of herself as the engineer in a robot suit. When Kingsley said, “You’re so beautiful. I just don’t know how to ask if — “ she gracefully rose, walked over to his chair, sat in his lap and kissed him. After that, it wasn’t hard for either of them to tell what the other wanted and soon Vera was shivering in anticipation as Kingsley slowly unzipped her dress and slid it off of her. She’d never had sex with a man, but knew what they wanted. Kingsley did not seem in any way disappointed and the feeling of penetration and having Kingsley massaging her breasts was a completely new experience for Greg, who showed his appreciation by taking Kingsley in Vera’s mouth when he seemed to be slowing down. Of course, while Vera was turned around, Kingsley proved himself the gentleman by using his own tongue to good effect. He seemed fascinated by her nether regions for some reason.

Vera was laying with her head pillowed on Kingsley’s chest when the executive smiled, exhaled and said, “Well done, Greg. You really did pull it off marvelously.”

Vera’s head shot up and she almost fell out of the bed. Getting up, she backed away slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re so cute when you’re terrified. Still, I can’t have you bolting, especially not when you haven’t got a stitch on you.” Kingsley reached under the bed and withdrew a large box covered in knobs and buttons. “Come here.” He manipulated the controls.

The robot stiffened as if turned off and then walked Greg slowly back to the bed. With a few more button pushes, she was seated on the end of the bed. All of the euphoria was draining away now and Greg seemed to see the room for the first time.

Kingsley stroked Vera’s hair. He turned her around and set the controls to put Vera’s legs around him in a jerking movement that left a lot of room and her arms around his shoulders, her elbows out at an awkward angle. He leaned in, fixed the controls to have her mouth open and kissed her. Greg could still use his tongue and decided to play along and see where this was going. Kingsley broke the kiss and set Vera back down in a sitting position on the bed. “You’re not much fun when you’re petrified. Now, I’m going to turn off the controls and I want you not to run.” He pressed a button and Vera relaxed. She was back under Greg’s control.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing much. You’ll see. For the time being, let’s get you out of that thing.” Vera reluctantly helped Kingsley to remove the outer skin. The panels on the back of the robot sprang open with a single button press. Greg collapsed out of the back and passed out the moment the constriction around his middle relaxed. All the wine he’d consumed earlier had finally been allowed to pass through and had overwhelmed him.

Greg woke up to an extremely pleasurable sensation around his crotch. He had a headache, but it was nothing to the stimulation of his cock and balls. He opened his eyes and there was Vera. Lick. Lick. Lick. She was methodically caressing his testicles and shaft with her tongue. When he stirred, she looked playfully into his eyes. “Sleepyhead. In two ways.” She rolled over and got up off the bed. “You’re still almost paralytic from the booze. I’ll let you rest on the bed until you’ve recovered.”

“What…”

“What now?” Vera smiled brightly as she adjusted the shoulder strap on her cocktail dress. While Greg had been asleep, she’d gotten herself together and dressed. “Well, you’re going to have a nice nap. Meanwhile, I’m going to go back to Harry’s place and fuck him silly. When he finds out that his old boss is inside the robot, I’m sure he’ll be as willing as you will be to listen to my proposal. How’d I know it was you? Look up from your work once in awhile. Straight up. Someone watches the security cameras, you know. Why am I doing this? I’m straightlaced in public, kid, but that’s just for the bottom line. This bottom,” she grabbed her padded rear, “is in a category of its own. The lovely Vera will be my assistant, as I’d offered, as well as my loving and devoted companion. Both you and Harry will receive substantial raises and assignment to a secret development project and lab facility. Improving this very nice design,” she gestured to herself.
“You will both receive the salary of a 40-hour per week engineer and a 40-hour executive assistant. Meanwhile you both will be spending twenty as each. You will naturally receive overtime for the copious evening and weekend work you will be doing. I imagine you’ll enjoy it, however. What if you refuse? The counter to that is ‘why should you’? It’s a very nice package to do something that you’ve already found quite pleasant up until that rather nasty shock as well as to develop a product you have shown great initiative in bringing to my continued attention. It will be marketed, by the way, by a small business funded by a venture firm that nobody has heard of. It will be run by a trio of amazingly attractive ladies. You two have got guts and tech smarts, but I wouldn’t credit you for good judgment in some other categories. Look at how blotto you are. You should have taken into account what would happen when you got out of this. You’ll need some real brains behind the pretty faces if you want to break into that industry. I don’t want to burst your bubble, but there’s a Jap with some serious connections, an American who seems to have ties to the Federal government, some mad geezer who thinks he’s a magician and a whole lot of smaller fish we’ll have to catch up to. We might be able to get the smaller FX artists out of the way, but the others will need business saavy.
“I’ll leave you to consider how fortunate you are and to recover from the very nice night you’ve given me. Time for me to go give our third partner his ultimatum.” Vera winked and wiggled her butt. “The look on his face after I’ve played naughty sister and brother with him will be priceless. Good night.”

Harry was getting really worried. It was two in the morning and Greg still hadn’t gotten back from his date with Kingsley. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility that his friend hadn’t been trying to get a reaction from him earlier with his suggestions of how the night would go. When he opened the door to Greg’s knock and Vera swished in with a cat-ate-the-canary grin on her face, Harry could tell Greg thought he’d gotten one over. “So, what happened?”

Vera put her arms around Harry, “Not now. Sis is still horny from her night with an older man and is in serious need of some brotherly love.” She tried to kiss him, but Harry ducked out of her arms and stepped back.

“Are we fired?”

Vera her hands on her hips. “No, Harry, we are not fired. “ She flashed him another of those smiles and twirled her hair on a finger. “In fact, I got us an offer.”

“What?”

Vera sighed. “Can’t we have some fun first?” She pushed him down onto the couch and knelt on his lap, massaging his chest.

“Get off!” Harry said. “How much booze did he give you anyway? This is our life at stake!”

Kingsley was not sure if he was impressed or frustrated. He really had been horny as all hell after climbing into a female body, taunting one worker and now attempting to seduce the other in the persona of the girl played by the other coworker. Now the one he was after was actually showing restraint and prioritizing his professional life before his sex life despite everything Kingsley could throw at him as Vera. Kingsley decided to try one more tact. Vera splayed her legs and started to wiggle around on Harry’s crotch. “Are you sure you don’t want a bit of incest before we talk business.”

Harry grabbed Vera’s boobs in a very nonsexual way and pushed her off to one side. “Geez, Greg, you were a lot better at it earlier this evening. If you’d come back from your date with the boss in that mood, you might have had me.”

Kingsley was livid at the suggestion that drunk reprobate might make a better woman than him. Vera flicked her hair back and said, “All right. Let’s see. I got him into a conversation about our work and he agreed to fund it. Put us together in a dedicated lab and even market it from a small business that can’t be traced back to him. Good enough?” Vera tried to kiss Harry again.

“Holy shit, Greg. You must have given him the blowjob of the century for that.”

Vera looked down and fidgeted in embarrassment. “He wasn’t too bad either.”

“You mean you enjoyed it?”

Vera looked incredulously at Harry. “Why else have I been trying to get in your pants for the last fifteen minutes? He was good, but I need even more.” Vera undid the button on Harry’s pants.

Harry looked into the eyes of the man he thought was in the robot. “Is it really that good?”

“Yes. And you’ll be learning that very soon,” Vera replied.

“Ew, gross. You’re not getting me into that thing. It doesn’t fit anyway.”

“We’ll make one that does.”

“No.”

Vera pouted, then looked sly. “Fine. You may as well get me out of this if we’re not having any fun tonight. I’m sure Kingsley will be willing to tell you all about his plan when you see him.” She turned and presented her back to Harry.

“Aren’t you going to take off the clothes first?”

“Just do the head. I — I want to feel myself up a bit more before I take the rest off.”

Harry pulled the skin away from the robotic head and sprang the catches on the back. Something was off about the hair inside and Harry almost fainted when Kingsley’s face emerged from the robot’s. “You are a remarkably dedicated person.” He said to the still stunned engineer. “Quite unlike your partner.”

“Wha — wha — wha —“ Harry sputtered.

“Allow me to explain what’s going to happen.” He gave Harry the spiel he’d done for Greg ending with, “But before all that, you’re going to close this robot back up, slide the skin back on and we’re going to screw like crazy.” Harry helped him back into Vera’s head and face and she flashed him yet another of those smiled. “After all, a brother should be willing to help his little sister and I desperately need help. If I don’t get a man inside me soon, I might explode.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to say anything before Vera was on top of him. He didn’t really have to do much; Vera was fully in the dominant role. He didn’t even blink when she got up and ordered him to carry her to his bed. He even got into the role play at that point and asked, “My room or yours, sis?”
“Yours, of course.” She giggled.

It wasn’t too bad and when the sleeping female form was curled up beside him, it was hard to believe that she’d been two men in the course of the evening. Harry lay back and thought about all the things Kingsley had told him would happen. He wasn’t too keen on being the boss’s secretary and girlfriend, but the rest of it sounded fun. Even being the buxom proprietor of a business selling these avatar robots wouldn’t be too bad. Who would recognize him? He could seduce his own brother — his real brother. String him along. Get lots of nice things and free meals before one night of passion and a morning breaking up because he wasn’t a ‘real man.’

Harry didn’t like his brother much.

Manual Excerpt: Dating Delusions

By Saliaven Chronotis

Over the Moon

By Paul Calhoun

Commission.

A cosplaying couple who met at an anime convention have been talking about doing a kigurumi for a long time. Andrew says he has a surprise and when he leaves and Sailor Moon walks in, Alyssa is ready to do whatever she wants.

Andrew met Alyssa at the door with a kiss on the cheek and eyes bright with mischief. “I have a surprise for you!” He sing-songed.

“What?” Alyssa asked, throwing her arms around him and dropping her bag on the counter behind him.

“I’m not telling.” He led her to the bedroom. “I’m gonna close the door and you’d better not open it.”

Alyssa blew her bangs up, but was smiling. “Not even a hint?”

“It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

He closed the door behind him and Alyssa sat at the computer to kill time until he got back. She had a fair idea what was coming, though the surprise would be more in line with who he came back as and how well he pulled it off. They’d met at an anime convention while attempting to take a picture of the same cosplayer, a stunningly vivacious Mink from Dragon Half. The molded head she wore was detailed down to having pores and the two of them had clicked from the moment Andrew had said he wanted to wear a lycra bodysuit and sculpted mask to cosplay. They had both been in costume, but neither had done more than casual cosplaying before or after, having started to coordinate their costuming to come from the same shows after they met.

Alyssa had up a picture of a Love Hina kigurmi when the door opened. She could almost hear the theme song as Sailor Moon swung her gold-crowned, pink heart wand in a circle, twirling in place with her other white gloved hand on her hip. The red frills on the ends of the gloves neatly hid where the material of the lycra bodysuit that gave her a smooth, matte look bunched up at the elbow. Her knees were not so lucky, as her white edged red high heeled boots’ crescent moon broaches didn’t reach her knees, her shiny blue satin miniskirt also falling far above. In fact, as she took a hesitant step, it was clear that the skirt was so short that if her stride were to lengthen beyond putting one foot directly in front of the other, she was likely to flash an immodest amount of the already intermittently visible pale pink panties she wore underneath. From a practical standpoint, Alyssa thought, they only way to stay decent while also maintaining Sailor Moon’s magical quality of never showing any underwear despite also showing almost all of her leg was to build in two layers of skirt with the inner part Velcroed to the bodysuit.

Sailor Moon’s approach was slowed by her lack of experience with even the low heels on her boots, the apparent lack of full vision out of the eyes of her mask and the fact that with almost every step, she was turning, twirling, almost dancing rather than simply walking over to Alyssa. Alyssa enjoyed the show, trying to focus on each part of the costume as it went by. Ignoring the mask and bodysuit, it was a very well made outfit. From the large, fluffy bow just above her rear to the smaller one that spread out to partially cover her small, firm breasts with an oval broach that secured not just the bow itself but the blue collar that fell across her shoulders. When she was close enough, Alyssa felt the pleats on her skirt and the rings of harder material around the tops of her arms. Sailor Moon stood still to let Alyssa feel the material of the white top and down the broad V that formed a point between the bodice and skirt, a point which was aimed at something Alyssa was looking forward to exploring later.

Alyssa finally let her examination move up to the yellow choker and heart shaped pendant and finally to the hard mask, which she tapped with a fingernail. It clacked hollowly, its material feeling too soft to the touch to be clay or plastic, but perhaps something softer overlaid on top of that. The mouth was a small red pair of lips opened a little bit, with a small, slightly pointed nose and broad cheeks with a light dusting of barely visible freckles. The rest of the face was dominated by the wide, blue eyes with white sparkles inside, the signature of the genre. Alyssa cautiously pushed at the red-gemmed tiara, which lifted easily in her hand. Sailor Moon took it from her after she’d looked at it and pretended to throw it before fitting it back over her forehead. Alyssa tapped the red gems that secured the enormous buns on either side of her head. “Are these removable?” Moon shook her head. “That’s too bad,” Alyssa said, playing with the long braids that fell from the buns. “You have beautiful hair.”

Sailor Moon put her face in her hands. “Aww,” Alyssa said. “You don’t want to talk?” Moon shook her head again, then stepped back, put one hand on her hip and the other over her forehead in the show’s salute. “Yes, you’re beautiful,” Alyssa said. Sailor Moon clasped her hands and bowed her head. Alyssa laughed. “Oh, totally false modesty. You know you did good.” She hugged her bodysuited boyfriend, realizing for the first time how easy it was to reach around. “Doesn’t it hurt to be squeezed like this?” She said, encircling his waist with the fingers of two hands.

Sailor Moon shrugged and then slowly turned, showing off her body. “Yeah, I hear you.” Alyssa said. “Worth it!” She knelt and pushed up the skirt. “Feel free to say something if you don’t want me to,” she said playfully, knowing her boyfriend wasn’t going to break immersion even if he didn’t want her to touch him. She also knew he did. Sailor Moon visibly caught her breath when Alyssa tugged at the panties and Alyssa grinned to herself. She could only imagine how it felt to have satin brushing along a body covered in soft, sensuous lycra. Under the underwear was a smooth bulge with a small zipper running along it. “Oh, you’re such a naughty girl,” she purred. The combination of the tone, the words and being called a girl made Sailor Moon shake with desire, and Alyssa’s gentle exploration was no doubt having an effect beneath the shapewear. Alyssa lightly fingered the bulge, feeling twitching beneath the lycra but no obviously male shapes. She took the zipper tab in her teeth, “I have to see how you’re doing it.” She said around the tab. Sailor Moon’s breath was echoing so loudly in her head that Alyssa could hear it from where she was kneeling. Rather than letting Alyssa continue, however, she put her hands on Alyssa’s shoulders and pushed her away. “Not yet, though.” The kigurumi Moon seemed to say. “All right,” Alyssa said. “This is your surprise. There’s more to it then?” Moon nodded and Alyssa slid the panties back up her legs, taking a moment to stroke the kigrumi Scout’s thighs and rub her cheek on the material. She stood and their arms went around each other and Alyssa pressed her lips against the soft but unyielding sculpted ones of the mask.

She’d noticed something when she’s been playing around below and she reached around to squeeze one of Sailor Moon’s boobs. “You can’t actually feel that.” She said. Her boyfriend shook her head despite sounding like she was enjoying the touch, he also pressed her hand against his chest and squeezed her butt. “Oh, I see.” Alyssa giggled. She danced around behind Sailor Moon and hugged her around the middle. Her hands wandered up and cupped Sailor Moon’s breasts from below. She gently massaged them, also taking the opportunity to feel them and give them some covert jiggles. They felt like they were attached to Andrew’s chest somehow and were strikingly real to the touch, though no doubt helped by the costume layers that leant them extra softness and smoothed out any imperfections. Sailor Moon relaxed against her and she could hear Andrew’s contented breathing echoing inside the mask. It was almost sure that his eyes were closed in contentment. “I should have guessed that even the suggestion of boobs would be enough for you.” Sailor Moon didn’t protest. “I bet I could get you off just by doing this, but then where would be the fun for me?” Sailor Moon seemed to agree, since she turned around and squeezed Alyssa to her. Almost picking her up, Sailor Moon put Alyssa on the bed and looked down, the character’s wide eyes looking down at her with innocent trust that was surely mirrored in those behind them and which she knew was in her own as she looked up and waited for Andrew to make the next move. Sailor Moon sat on Alyssa’s lap and she instinctively pulled her boyfriend in to the kiss, his lips pressing against the inside of the mask so hard that she could just about feel them brushing lightly against hers as she pressed as hard. “You know,” she murmured as if whispering sweetness into her love’s ear, “if they’d been into this on Pushing Daisies, it would have been a lot easier on them.” She stuck her fist in her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as Sailor Moon shook, Andrew on the very edge of breaking character by vocalizing. She tapped the scout on the nose. “As for me,” she squeaked as Sailor Moon threw her weight forward and landed bouncing on Alyssa’s body. “I can tell you’re as into this as I am.”

Alyssa couldn’t help but play with Sailor Moon’s hair, the two long blonde ribbons falling down on either side of her body to trail down and over the end of the bed. Sailor Moon seemed to be more single minded, hooking her thumbs under Alyssa’s waistband and pushing down on her pants. Alyssa wiggled to help her boyfriend get her clothes off, grinding against him in the process. They both tried to arch their backs at the same time to press Sailor Moon’s shiny pale pink panties to Alyssa’s purple cotton ones. Sailor Moon was fumbling with Alyssa’s top and Alyssa struggled out of her shirt and bra, having removed her socks and shoes on her way in. Naked but for her panties, she luxuriated in the feel of the fabrics her boyfriend wore on her skin. She shook with pent up lust when Sailor Moon put a single satin finger inside her and she fumbled at the zipper between Sailor Moon’s legs. “I’m so close,” she moaned. At that moment, Sailor Moon removed her hands from Alyssa’s body, pressed her sculpted lips against Alyssa’s and rolled back to her feet, swaying for a moment as she accustomed herself to her high heels again. Alyssa reached out with a mewing cry as the Sailor Scout walked away with a wiggle in her walk. “Come back, you sexy lady! Finish what you started!” Sailor Moon tipped her head in a frozen-eyed wink and opened the closet. Lucky for Andrew’s surprise, Alyssa hadn’t looked inside and what was sitting on the shelf and hanging on the hooks was enough to trigger the orgasm she’d accused Andrew of neglecting. “You are so good.” She panted, already up and running at the lycra suit and kigurumi head, everything else about the cosplay secondary to putting on that wonderful mask.

Sailor Moon blocked her way and pointed at her underwear. “Oh.” Alyssa slid them down and kicked them into a corner. “Am I ready now?”

Moon shook out the bodysuit delicately and held it up. Alyssa said, “Aw. Can’t I put on the mask first? It’s so cute!” Calming down, she was seeing that it was the scarlet-eyed face of Sailor Mini-moon, her fluffy bright pink pigtails brushing the shelf and the ear-like hair buns adorned with the wings and gems she had when transformed. Her nose and mouth were smaller than Sailor Moon’s and her eyes seemed even bigger in comparison. Sailor Moon shook her head and gently pushed Alyssa down into a chair, kneeling to slip her feet into the flesh tone lycra bodysuit. She wiggled her toes in the item that felt like thick stockings and Sailor Moon pretended to put Alyssa’s toe into her mouth. Sailor Moon rolled the leggings up to Alyssa’s knees and Alyssa stood to let Moon get them up further. Her boyfriend stopped at the tops of her thighs and pressed his frozen lips and pert soft plastic nose against her wet crotch. She stroked his hair as he mimed licking her vagina. “You look pretty and if you keep doing that, you’re going to smell like a horny girl all the time. What are you going to do when men start coming up to you in cons and asking for your number?”

Sailor Moon stood up and strutted around the room, swinging her hips in an exaggerated way and brushing her bangs back dramatically. “Letting them down lightly, huh?” Alyssa asked drily. “So what becomes of poor me now that I’ve donated by juices to your heartbreaking cause?”

Sailor Moon clasped her hands and bowed in apology. She gestured to the slightly damp patch where Alyssa had hiked up the bodysuit so it would sit around her hips and then to the Chibi Moon mask. “Oh, I get it!” Alyssa grinned. “I get to be a heartbreaker too. Maybe I want you all to myself!”

Sailor Moon wrapped her arms around Alyssa and hugged her, pressing her lips to her girlfriend’s again. “Hey,” Alyssa said, “you don’t see me smearing your cum on your face!” Moon didn’t stop kissing her and Alyssa could again feel Andrew’s lips feeling like they were trying to get through the mask. Sailor Moon pressed Alyssa’s hand to the front of her skirt. “Is that permission?” Alyssa asked playfully. Sailor Moon nodded enthusiastically. “Later then,” she promised.

After another few minutes of Sailor Moon massaging Alyssa’s bare middle and chest with her satiny smooth costume and trying to make out through a solid mask, Alyssa felt her boyfriend tugging the bodysuit up further. She stood still, only raising her arms when he reached them and otherwise letting him play dressup with her as his doll. He had difficulty tucking her hair into the hood and she eventually had to assist in getting it all in there. When that was done, she stood with a perfectly smooth, slightly tanned body, the stain between her legs almost invisible, though the zipper tab at her pubic bone wasn’t so well hidden. Sailor Moon stroked her thigh, lycra against lycra as she lay back and enjoyed his slow initiation into the costume. “You must have wished so many times while you were getting this ready that we could do it together.” Alyssa said.

By way of reply Sailor Moon guided Alyssa down onto the bed, dropped her panties and knelt over her, lowering her lycra curve with its bound manhood beneath against the similarly shaped one dimpled a tiny bit by the vaginal lips that lay inside. Very slowly, she touched them together and then moved forward. The sound and sensation of the two mounds rubbing sent waves of electric joy through Alyssa, who fought against the urge to buck her hips, sensing that her boyfriend had something else in mind and not wanting to stop him from unfolding his evening the way he’d planned. Sailor Moon lay with her hands on either side of Alyssa’s body, her face suspended so that Alyssa looked into those huge blue eyes and was tickled by the long spills of hair. Moon pulled down the bodice of her costume slightly and let her false fabric covered breasts whisper along Alyssa’s real ones. Alyssa bit her lip to keep from crying out and Sailor Moon covered them with hers. For a long moment everything stood still in that perfect instant on the edge of an explosive climax. Then her boyfriend was gone again, Sailor Moon’s skirt floating down as she swiftly put her underclothes back in order, the creases from having pulled her top down disappearing as it sprang back into place. She unpacked and laid out an outfit similar to her own next to Alyssa on the bed, with darker red bows, bright pink skirt and pink collar. She put the dark pink edged white gloves on either side and stood the neon pink, white topped knee high boots against the bed. Alyssa propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Sailor Moon went back to the closet and bent down, displaying a shapely rear as her skirt rode up. She wolf-whistled. “Grab me the paddle!” Sailor Moon straightened up and wagged a finger at her. Alyssa rolled over and hung her head backwards over the edge of the bed, regarding Sailor Moon upside-down. “Hey, how come you didn’t dress as her? Then you wouldn’t have had to go to so much trouble to get all those delicious curves – oh, I answered my own question,” she giggled, feeling giddy at the interlude her boyfriend had created in his insistence that she get dressed. When he didn’t take the mask down, she pouted. “Spoilsport!” She stuck her tongue out and spoke around it, “See? Here’s something you can’t do!” Sailor Moon swiftly bent down and tried to force Alyssa’s tongue into her open but shallow mouth. When she went back to the clothes, Alyssa put one of her boyfriend’s braids in her mouth and sucked it loudly. “A preview for later,” she teased. Sailor Moon sternly pointed at where she’d placed a pair of dark pink panties and a white bra.

Alyssa got up and tried to pick up the panties but her boyfriend instead sat her back down and insisted on putting them on her himself, giving them a couple of unnecessary tugs and a satisfied pat on her rear when they were on. She didn’t complain as she had her eyes closed so she could enjoy the sensation of them being drawn up her lycra clad legs. Alyssa was pleasantly surprised when he put the bra on her with no difficulty and then knelt to let her step into the one piece Sailor Scout uniform. It was if anything even more satisfying to feel being slowly – more slowly than necessary, she knew – slid up and over her body, enclosing whispering lycra in sensuous satin with the low purr of a zipper traveling up her back. She opened her eyes and in the door mirror saw herself in the Scout uniform. She played with the skirt and turned to see herself in profile while Sailor Moon got the gloves. These went on with a satisfying smoothness and now two pairs of gloved hands traveled across her body. One in exploration and the other in desire. She sat and her boyfriend knelt again, nuzzling her toes one more time before slipping the boots over her feet and calves. She stood and her eyes shone with hope, love and lust as Sailor Moon took down the Chibi Moon head and she bent to let him guide it over her hooded head. The foam padding inside had an odd but not unpleasant smell, one she knew she would soon become very pleasurable as she associated it with this experience and all the others she would no doubt have while inhaling the fragrance of foam and plastic in the close environment of the head. Through the mesh in the pupil of the wide dark red eyes – pupils almost as wide as her own eye socket with faux light reflections painted across part of them – she could see the two Sailor Scouts standing next to each other. One in a pose of amazed delight and the other possessively holding her shoulder. Sailor Moon drew her into a hug, one hand going under her skirt and the other pushing a wand into her hand. Chibi Moon and Sailor Moon separated and both spun on a toe, holding their wands out in a silent dance. Jokingly, Chibi Moon began doing the Fusion Dance from Dragon Ball and Sailor Moon followed, their wands’ tips meeting at the end. Sailor Moon held out a tiara and Chibi Moon bent her head to allow her boyfriend to place it across her forehead and over her sculpted ears. She then took a moment to admire herself again in the mirror while Sailor Moon buckled the red choker around her neck.

The now fully dressed Chibi Moon looked at Sailor Moon with expectation and Sailor Moon shrugged, gesturing first at the door and then at the bed. Alyssa didn’t think she could hold a conversation entirely in mime with Andrew, talented though they both were and opted to place her pouted lips to Sailor Moon’s ear and whisper, “You didn’t plan any further than this?”

Sailor Moon put her fists to her mouth in a silent giggle, turned in place and then swept her hand along Chibi Moon’s body. “No, you’re right. This is already one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.” Sailor Moon put her fists to her chest and bowed her head and Chibi Moon put her finger under Sailor Moon’s chin, wagging the other in silent rebuke of her false modesty. Sailor Moon jerked her face at Chibi’s finger, trying to get it into her open mouth. Chibi pulled the hand away and put her hands over her eyes, rocking back and forth in pretend fear. Sailor Moon took the opportune blindness to sneak a quick squeeze of one breast and received a swat on her behind. She threw her arms around Chibi and their faces met with a muffled clack. Alyssa melted into the embrace, pressing her lips to the smaller pair seemingly always ready for a kiss on the outside of her mask. She half-felt, half-imagined Andrew’s doing the same through her mask and his. She didn’t need to physically feel them anyway. The way he held her was still all him and kissing the inside of the mask was like kissing him, although satisfying in a very different way than having his tongue flashing back and forth along hers.

His grip tightened on her back and hers around his shoulders and she allowed herself to fall forward as he fell back, pulling her head so that her mask didn’t crash into his as they landed on the bed. For a breathless moment, the two Moons stared into each other’s eyes, Alyssa thinking about how under the adorable Sailor Scout lay her wonderful man who had arranged all of this. Then his doubly gloved fingers dug into her back and their hips were moving in tandem, their skirts pushed out of the way so that pale pink and dark pink underwear and what lay beneath could grind against each other. She couldn’t help but vocalize her pleasure as one of Sailor Moon’s hands made its way to her chest and when she started augmenting his crotch to crotch stimulation with skillful fingers neither could he. She longed to kiss him properly, but another long look at how Sailor Moon’s face retained its wide-eyed, innocent demeanor was enough to fulfill her just as much and she knew that seeing Chibi Moon looking back at him the same way was as good for him as it was for her.

Alyssa floated in the warm glow of their now slow, measured stimulation of one another when she felt a tug and a breath of air in a sensitive spot. Sailor Moon had unzipped the opening between her legs. She looked into Sailor Moon’s eyes for a moment and then kicked her booted legs happily. It was finally time! Sailor Moon let her open the zipper between her own legs, but when Alyssa was stymied by the smooth bulge of flesh tone fabric beneath, Sailor Moon had to step in and undo the hooks of the gaff he was wearing. His penis sprang out from its lacy prison twitching, the condom he’d worn in anticipation showing amazingly clean of any sign that Andrew had climaxed even once that evening. He was raring to go now and Sailor Moon lay back and luxuriated at Chibi moon put the head to her frozen pout and then gently stroked the shaft, Alyssa knowing that if her boyfriend had been holding back all this time, it wouldn’t take much to set him off now. In fact, she thought, she ought not to be too greedy by trying to get him to go straight to penetration immediately. She’d come at least twice and it was only fair that the man who had made her so happy have at least one of his own before things got really heavy. She rubbed the erect member against her smooth Scout costume, still careful to keep him on the edge. She could feel the pulses beneath her fingers and counted on her knowledge of how Andrew worked to tease him through a very long session of simulative foreplay before it was finally time for the finisher. She brushed the shaft with each finger in turn, reveling in how audible he had become as she worked. Chibi stroked him with her fingers as her unmoving lips ran around his head. When Sailor Moon looked like she was going to sit up and take charge, Chibi Moon swung her legs around and buried him inside of her. As expected, Sailor Moon’s hips bucked hard as she came at that moment and she fell back stunned by Alyssa’s performance. Chibi Moon let Sailor Moon relax and exit her in her own time and then inched up, rubbing her masked cheek against Sailor Moon’s body as she made her way to lie next to her. Andrew had shown restraint in his padding so that they could cuddle without any over large breasts or hips getting in the way. They were two slender Japanese schoolgirls, one with a semi-erect penis that the other cupped as they held each other.

They rested in each other’s arms, letting the hot air trapped in their masks lull them into relaxation. Alyssa felt Andrew’s chest expand and contact with measured breathing, his belly unable to do so because of the waist cincher he was no doubt wearing to maintain his girlish figure. Alyssa played with the bow between his boobs and he began to loop the one on her rear around his finger. Soon their masks were pressed together in a long simulated kiss. Sailor Moon rolled on top of Chibi, tossing her head to send her braids out behind her. Aylssa looked up at the Sailor Scout readying herself for further action and squeezed one of her boobs, “Honk.” She said, remembering how much Andrew loved to do that.

Sailor Moon put her finger on Chibi’s mouth and then tickled her. Alyssa broke out in giggles and then reciprocated, Sailor Moon falling off as she lost her grip. Chibi pressed her advantage and soon both Sailor Scouts were trying their hardest not to fall off the bed. Chibi scrambled to her feet and with a ‘catch me if you can’ flip of her fluffy hair, ran out of the room, her rounded lycra behind coming clearly into view as she took much longer steps than was modest and foregoing putting her satin panties back on in her rush to escape. Though Sailor Moon was hot on her heels, Moon’s heels were her undoing. She couldn’t keep up and keep her balance, so Alyssa waited for her in the living room, glad that the blinds were closed. She let Sailor Moon get close, danced back and put her hands to either side of her head and waved them, the tongue sticking out of her mouth implied. Sailor Moon lunged forward, but caught only air and had to steady herself on the sofa. Chibi darted in, tickled her under her bust and ran off back towards the bedroom. Sailor Moon found her waiting on the bed, her skirt up and her legs well apart, fingers lying casually between her legs. She beckoned and Sailor Moon regained her position on top. She silenced Chibi’s laughter and gestures of triumph with a well timed motion of her hips that had Alyssa gasping both for air and in renewed amorous pleasure. They swiftly synced up and this time Sailor Moon was again skillfully playing out the encounter so that Alyssa cried out in ecstasy only moments after Sailor Moon’s final buck of her hips. One thing Alyssa had found very useful so far was that Sailor Moon’s hips made a much better hand-hold than Andrew’s normally. It was so much more satisfying to be able to get and keep a grip on him while they made love. They cuddled and panted again after Andrew pulled out, and this time their rest period included genuine sleep.

Alyssa woke up to find herself and Sailor Moon curled up together. From the breathing emanating from the mask, Alyssa guessed that Andrew was both well and still asleep. She lay basking and floating for awhile before Sailor Moon’s fingers twitched. She clasped the hand and a minute later, felt a squeeze back. She turned and the Scouts stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like half an hour, drinking in the evening’s activities. “I’m hungry.” Alyssa whispered. She squirmed as Sailor Moon cupped her crotch. “No, hungry hungry.” She stretched and Sailor Moon sat up, her arms also raising in silent acknowledgement they she was feeling stiff and not just in the obvious place caused by being in a Sailor Moon kigurumi cosplay while his girlfriend lay in a Chibi Moon cosplay of her own. Sailor Moon pulled Chibi into a sitting position and placed her hands behind her girlfriend’s head. Alyssa felt a breeze on her neck and did the same for Sailor Moon, their heads lifting off at the same time. They set their partner’s mask aside and engaged in a long kiss before Andrew sat back, grinning. “Good surprise?”

“Oh, as if you have to ask!” Alyssa said. She jumped forward and started the kiss again. “What happened to dinner?” Andrew asked.

“It can wait a few minutes,” Alyssa said. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you with nothing between your tongue and mine for hours!”

The continuation of their lovemaking continued until the rumbling from their empty bellies became too distracting to continue. After getting cleaned up, Andrew bundled himself back into his gaff, holding out a hand to stop Alyssa from helping him tuck his penis and balls back into the thong like undergarment. “If you touch it, we’ll only have to get going again,” he warned. He closed the zipper on the bodysuit and pulled his pale pink shiny panties on. “There. Now no one would ever guess that this,” he slapped his rear with a satisfying sound, “or this,” he tugged on the panties, “hide anything unexpected.”

“Aw,” Alyssa said, half-jokingly. “So much for my nefarious scheme to keep you in bed. I’ll make dinner and you practice walking in those boots, then.” She said. “Next time I run away, I want you to catch me!” Alyssa reflected as got up that she looked almost normal, albeit bald. An unnaturally smooth, completely hairless woman in an anime costume. Andrew, however, looked just as good from the neck down, but his obviously male face spoiled the effect. “I can fix that a little bit,” he said when she mentioned it. He rummaged through their cosplay box. He plopped a long neon purple wig on her head and slipped a pink one with giant pigtails onto his own. “There, hair.” He said.

“I ought to put some makeup on you,” Alyssa said, adjusting her wig.

“Sounds fun. Let’s do that tomorrow.” Andrew agreed.

Despite the distraction of her boyfriend mincing around in high heels and a well fitting Sailor Moon costume, Alyssa got dinner ready in little more time than it usually took. Andrew’s mincing, meanwhile, was interrupted frequently when he – intentionally – got too close and received a playful pat on the rear or a tip on where to put his feet from Alyssa. “I’m really enjoying the padding,” Alyssa said, finished with the preparation and taking a break to caress Andrew’s backside. “It’s quite shapely,” she grabbed a double handful, “and squeezable.” Her hands went to his hips and his to her shoulders, though their kiss was interrupted when he moved one of her hands to sit between his legs. “I meant to ask about that,” Alyssa said. “So you don’t come when you’re in that?”

Andrew shook his head. “Not so far.”

Alyssa squeezed and massaged the soft simulated female curve. “Even when I do that?”

Andrew closed his eyes in bliss, running his hands over Alyssa’s body and kissing her deeply. “Not even then. Try a little higher – oh yeah.” Her grip was just above the base of his shaft. “It felt good before, but if you squeeze right there it kind of tickles too.”

“Huh. I wonder if it’s anything like having my boobs touched.” Alyssa said.

“Speaking of which,” Andrew’s grip moved to Alyssa’s chest. “Dinner soon?”

“Before it gets cold,” she agreed.

They didn’t want to risk getting their costumes stained by their food, so their amorous activity was constrained to a longing, roving gaze across the table as they ate. Alyssa even had to stop eating suggestively because she could see that Andrew was losing control. After the dishes had been cleared, she knelt over him as he lay on his chest on the bed. She unzipped the back of his Scout uniform and the bodysuit, inhaling the smell of him that permeated the shapewear beneath. “Lots of washing to do later.” She said.

“Hmmm.” He sighed happily.

Alyssa gently probed the corset wrapped around his middle with gloved fingers. “Doesn’t this hurt?”

“Not so much anymore. I’m getting used to it.” He murmured.

Alyssa spread the opening a little further so she could get a hand down into the cup. She lifted out the silicone form – producing a slight wet sound as whatever was holding it on came loose - which was flesh tone with a sculpted nipple. “I’m guessing the realism is for your benefit,” she commented. She didn’t even have to look to see his grin and nod. She didn’t blame him. Her exploration moved down to the thin elastic straps of the gaff and the hip pads underneath. “This is all so elaborate. You must have been planning for months.” She worked the pads off of his butt and enjoyed his shivering delight as she rubbed his real bum with her satin Scout gloves. “All the work you had to do to intercept boxes before I saw them, the trouble.” She stretched out against his back and nibbled at his ear. “And all of that absolutely worth it. I’m going to have to do something spectacular to show my appreciation.”

“Just keep taking me apart, honey.” He sighed. Alyssa giggled and went back to her examination. Andrew jerked fully awake and Alyssa sat up when the doorbell rang. “Oh!” She looked at herself in the mirror. “My face is a mess and I’ll never get out of this costume in time.”

“Your face is wonderful, but if you don’t want someone to see you in disarray, that’s an easy fix.” He swept the wig off of Alyssa’s smooth scalp, picked up the Chibi Moon head and pushed it over Alyssa’s. “There! Instant cleanup.”

Alyssa touched her Chibi moon face, then laughed. “Thanks, honey!” She pressed her unmoving lips against Andrew’s and ran off before he could get ahold of her. She reached the door, took a deep breath, and opened the door. “Hi!” She said to the older woman who was standing on the mat.

“Oh, uh, hi.” Andrew’s co-worker Liz said. “You’re looking … cute.”

Alyssa tried to look embarrassed, but didn’t think she was doing a very good job. “Yeah. I was trying this out and I couldn’t take it off in time to answer the door. So what’s up?”

“Actually, I needed to talk to Andrew. Um, couldn’t he have answered the door?”

“What’s going on, honey?” Sailor Moon chirped, the muffling of the now fully restored Sailor Scout kigurumi and the pitch of his voice making him sound somewhat like Alyssa.

“Aw, now you’ve ruined my joke!” Alyssa said in a deep voiced attempt at mimicking Andrew.

“That’s not very convincing.” Andrew said in his own voice.

“Sure it was!” Alyssa said in a slightly better impersonation.

“Right.” Liz said. “Uh, yeah, so… Whichever one of you is Andrew, I needed to let you know that Ike’s going to be late tomorrow so don’t worry about finishing up that presentation before noon.”

“Thanks!” They both replied, Andrew normally and Alyssa still trying to sound like a man. Sailor Moon twirled one of her braids around her index finger and Chibi Moon clasped her hands.

“Well, have fun I guess.” Liz said, turning away.

“Thanks, bye!” They both called, now Alyssa in her normal voice and Andrew higher pitched. They waved enthusiastically and Liz waved back after a moment.

Alyssa closed the door and leaned against it, her body shaking with giggles. “That was too fun!” She held up a warning finger. “You need practice at sounding like a girl. If you’re going to break hearts, you need to sound like a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, and if you want to scare horny fanboys, you’ll need to practice too!” Andrew replied. Their simulated lips met with a faint click.

“You’re the one in drag,” Alyssa said, “so let’s start.” She turned Andrew around and held him by the hips. “I’ll help with the wiggle while we’re practicing.” She took a step and adjusted Sailor Moon’s step when she took one. They started slowly crossing the room in a sexy rolling gait and Chibi said, “Now repeat after me: In the name of the Moon…”

“In the name of the Moon…” Sailor Moon began.

Playing For Keeps
By Paul Calhoun
A medieval scallywag gets locked up in a courtesans' boudoir that had been renovated as a temporary jail. The only way out is in the wardrobe!

Ronal staggered into the room, hearing the door slam shut behind him. He looked around and mentally congratulated Sir Jins on his good work. For a converted bedchamber, his cell was an effective prison. Ronal was the son of the Duke of Geryman and so when Sir Jins caught him poaching on his land, there was no politic way he could have thrown the young scallywag into the dungeon. Not that Ronal was likely to stay there; he was renowned across four nations for his ability to escape almost any jail cell. His father turned a blind eye because Ronal often returned with useful information for him, often gleaned from the murmurings of lovers he took, daughters of noble houses who often contributed to his legend rather than admit that they had gone with him willingly.

Sir Jins had a special axe to grind against Ronal since he was well known amongst his peers for his carnal appetites. Ronal was a danger to his harem. In fact … Ronal opened the wardrobe and confirmed his suspicions. The purple bedspread and brightly colored carpets had been the first clue, but the closet full of gowns and feminine smallclothes made him sure that he had been installed in the hastily repurposed chamber of one of Sir Jins’ many fair maids. Sir Jins had probably expected that this would make it impossible for Ronal to put together a disguise and that the bars on the windows would keep him from escaping. How little Sir Jins knew of Ronal, heir to the Duke of Geryman.

Ronal was being treated reasonably well and his guards were almost as comely as those Sir Jins took to bed, so he took his time in planning his escape. Every other day he would somehow lose a water skin and he spent his free time picking at the carpets until they were almost totally unraveled. On rare occasions, a changing of the guard had one of his jailers arrive late which gave him a few minutes to practice the voice he’d have to use. There were precious little cosmetics left behind, so he supplemented his supply with charcoal from the fireplace. It would be a touchy thing, but he had nothing better to do.

He’d been keeping track of the guards and knew that there was one who was constantly late and took him less seriously than the others. On a day he knew she was going to be on duty, he started on his plan. He’d ransacked the wardrobe for what he needed and had it all laid out in advance. He started with a silk shift — a luxury that Sir Jins lavished on all of his girls despite the enormous cost — to protect his skin from the second item, a boned corset which he tightened until he felt like his ribs were going to crack. He’d seen Sir Jins’ girls; they were very shapely. He filled the cups with full waterskins and a couple of test bounces were enough to give him further confidence. They also brought his attention to the next part of his disguise.

He’d looked at the thick petticoats that were the latest fashion and thought about whether he’d need to bind himself to hide the bulge which would give him away in an instant. He’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t dare risk it, so he tied the female loincloth as tightly as possible after tucking his manhood between his legs, ignoring how his eyes watered. He squeezed a couple more waterskins into them and dropped the underdress over his head and then the multilayered petticoat. He finished by stepping into the blue velvet gown which covered the lower layers and gave the appearance of a single unit garment. He took a small amount of pride in how far he was able to tighten the laces on it. He fluffed out the skirts and tugged on the sleeves to make sure everything was in place.

There was no mirror, so he was forced to apply the makeup he’d found or simulated by feel. As he applied the powder, kohl, rouge and reddened his lips, he could only hope that he was doing a good job. He was extremely proud of the makeshift wigs he’d created using the woven pad underneath the carpet as a base and the threads from it as hair. Teasing it out, he’d produced a passable red, a very good black and an almost supernaturally luminous, fluffy blonde using the gold thread from the tassels on the rugs and curtains. It was the last that he settled on his closely cropped scalp, turning it and pulling it to and fro to get it into a position that would look good. When he took a step, it almost fell off and he could tell a casual head toss would result in it flying away. He found some of the previous day’s dinner that had yet to be cleared away and smeared some of the sticky pudding on his head before trying again. It felt disgusting, but it did successfully hold the wig on, so he couldn’t complain. He quickly washed his hands, shoved the extra wigs into his bodice and tried to ready himself mentally for what would happen.

He had to work to pull his shoulders back like the girls had been taught to and hoped no one would notice he wasn’t wearing their soft slippers, opting to retain his boots in case he needed to make a quick getaway. Taking a deep breath — and inflating his velvet and linen covered false bosom — he affected a panicked expression and gave full voice to the female tone he’d been practicing. “Help! Help!” He called, trying to pitch his voice up while adding a breathiness that made him sound less like a castrati.

“What’s going on in there?” The lax guard opened a peep hole in the door.

“Help me!” Ronal sobbed. “The Duke’s son escaped and locked me in!”

“How did this happen?” The guard said, opening the door.

“I was giving him his dinner when he overpowered me.” Ronal looked down in mock shame. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’re damn right about that.” The guard realized who would be blamed if she made a fuss about it and her expression softened. “Go on.” She said. “I’ll see that he’s caught again.” As Ronal hurried away he heard her mutter, “I’d better find him or his lordship will have me staked out over an anthill.”

Ronal didn’t like the sound of that but he couldn’t be worrying about every guard who worked for one of his enemies. He thought about making a break for it, but the encumbering dress made that impossible, even if he’d been able to draw enough breath past the corset to sustain quick movement for more than a few seconds. He wasn’t even sure how women managed to get their fluffy, voluminous skirts through doors without getting caught on something, much less took anything more than a tiny step without treading on them. Instead, he swept along at a mince, hoping he looked like one of the girls on an errand for Sir Jins. He was very aware of how the thick skirts swayed from side to side as he did his best to imitate the hip swinging gait of one of the courtesans and how his chest bounced slightly out of sync from his head of literally golden blonde hair.

Ronal was on his way to the main hall and freedom, but didn’t know that between his cell and the way out was Sir Jins’ own suite. As he flounced past, Sir Jins opened the door and saw him. “You there! Who are you?”

Ronal stopped, cursing inside. He had to work hard to put a pleasant smile on his face before turning to look at Sir Jins. “Me, sir?”

“Yes, you. What are you doing here?”

“I’m — I’m tribute, milord. Recently arrived from the town of …” Ronal racked his mind. “Kadorall. The mayor sends his regards. I’ve been getting settled in before being presented to you.”

Jins leered at Ronal, taking in the ample bosom, narrow waist and the soft rounded rear that couldn’t be completely hidden under layers of soft petticoat. “You look quite presentable to me, my darling.” He licked his lips. “Yes, very good.” He stood aside. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable in my chambers and let me get to know you?”

Ronal was appalled, but managed a weak titter. “Milord is too generous,” he said as he swept past Sir Jins.

“On the contrary,” Sir Jins said, cupping Ronal’s bottom as he passed and closing the door. He moved his grip up, putting his arm around Ronal’s shoulders and guiding him towards a sumptuous couch. He sat and settled Ronal on his knee. “What is your name, my dear?” He said, kissing Ronal’s bare forearm.

“R — Reeanah.” Ronal stammered, fighting to keep his voice pleasantly feminine.

“What a nice name.” Sir Jins wrapped his arms around Ronal’s middle. “What a nice slim girl you are.” He bounced Ronal on his knee and his hands wandered upwards. “And so well endowed. I must remember to reward the mayor of Kadorall.”

“Milord flatters me.” Ronal gulped.

“Not at all.” Sir Jins stroked the golden wig. “You have such lovely hair.” He murmured. Then he set Ronal down next to him and stood up. “And so reserved, so proper. I love a nice shy girl. They always color so prettily when I ask them to honor themselves by doing me a favor.” His trousers fell to the floor. “Let’s see if your tongue is as clever when dealing with my manhood as it is when speaking to my ears.”

Ronal steeled himself and discharged his office until Sir Ronald discharged the staff thereof. It was a constant battle against the need to gag, the desire to run away and the urge to close his eyes. Somehow he succeeded in casting the occasional loving glance up at Sir Jins, who was looking at him with a mixture of affection and lust. When Sir Jins had been satisfied, he took Ronal’s hand and helped him up. “That will be all, my dear. You will be a prized addition to my household. Go and see the mistress of the courtesans now for your assignments.” He pulled Ronal into a turgid kiss, apparently not minding the seed which still clung to the tongue of the feminized Ducal heir. The movement also crushed the skirts into him, making Ronal glad that he’d securely fastened himself rather than trusting their camouflage. After an interminable period of letting Sir Jins paw at him and being forced to reciprocate his advances, Ronal was dismissed with a push on the behind that sent him scurrying out of the suite.

He learned a moment later where Sir Jins had been going when he’d waylaid Ronal because he was less than two steps from the suite when an imperious female voice called, “You there! Hold up!”

“Ah, Mistress Trebula.” Sir Jins said. “So good of you to come find me. I was unfortunately distracted by the new girl.”

“New girl?” The mistress of the courtesans looked at Ronal, who didn’t have to work at shrinking in on himself and looking like a frightened rabbit. “Never seen her before in me life.”

“No? She arrived recently; must have been looking for you when I found her.” Sir Jins said airily. “See to it that she’s taken care of. I think I’m going to enjoy having her. Oh, the reason I wanted to see you is because dear Misha is getting a little too practiced. Give her the usual retirement package.”

Sir Jins closed the door and Mistress Trebula looked at Ronal with friendly impatience. “Come along then,” she said brusquely. “We need to get you cleaned up and settled in. What’s your name, girl?”

“Reeanah.” Ronal said as he tried to follow Trebula’s quick pace while retaining his decorous appearance and a little bit of breath to speak with.

“That’s the best you could come up with, huh?” Trebula asked.

“My lady?”

“Oh nothing.” Trebula continued as if satisfied with Ronal’s response. She showed him into a large parlour filled with young females in various states of undress. “That will be your cell,” she said, pointing to a tiny room with a clean cot. “If you please his lordship well enough, you’ll get something you can entertain in. For now you’ll need to get washed up and ready to present yourself officially to his lordship at supper. When you’re not entertaining, you’ll be carrying messages and doing other odd jobs around the place. There’s always enough to keep busy.” She bustled out, leaving Ronal surrounded by nubile young women and no way to appreciate them as he’d like to.

“Hi,” a honey blonde said, brushing her hair. “Where are you from?”

Ronal had difficulty not staring. The blonde was only wearing smallclothes and a shift, baring her long legs and large breasts. “I’m from Kadorall.” He squeaked.

“Oh really!” The young lady was on her feet and pushing her cleavage into him in a moment. “I have an uncle in Kadorall. Do you know Goodman Gimt?”

“Uh, sure.” Ronal said. The other girls were all smiling — some were even laughing - and he relaxed. “Very nice man. I’m Reeanah by the way.”

“Jinny!” The blonde hugged Ronal, who was now even more glad that he’d bound himself rather than trusting his thick petticoat, since this was a situation to give rise to his ardor. “I’m sure we’ll be very good friends.”

“I’d like that,” Ronal said truthfully.

“Oh, but you need a bit of a touch up,” a redhead said, taking Ronal’s hand and pulling him over to a vanity. “Let us help.”

Over the course of having a makeover and talking to the girls, Ronal loosened up and started to forget that he wasn’t another young courtesan brought in to satisfy Sir Jins’ needs. “Does he usually — ehem — test us out before we get settled in?”

“When he can,” a pale black haired beauty — Yindra — said. “You get used to him occasionally taking you off of something you’re doing and then taking everything off of you.” She giggled. “He’s not a hard person to work with. Well, he’s not hard for very long.”

When the girls had finished, Ronal looked at his reflection and wished he could stay like this a little longer. He’d never gotten to know many women he’d met in the way he knew these courtesans and it was nice to — metaphorically — let his hair down and talk to them on equal footing. No sexual tension, no worries, just a laughter and fun. Plus with their help he made a really pretty girl.

“It’s close to supper now,” Jinny said. “We’d better go down and join Sir Jin.”

That led to a long discussion amongst the assembled ladies as to what they ought to wear. Ronal had to endure watching them take out a multitude of garments to try on, which meant watching them change out of a multitude of garments. His thoughts of sorority were temporarily banished as he did his best to give a genuine opinion whenever asked and not staring at the expanses of skin and flesh. He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat when to his horror they began talking about his wardrobe.

“I know you haven’t been given anything yet, but really we can’t let you go in something he’s seen you in.”

“It’s a very nice gown, but a little old fashioned, don’t you think?”

Ronal was throwing up his hands and protesting, but the ladies wouldn’t take no for an answer. Mercifully, they only stripped him of his over gown, changing it for one with a red velvet skirt and a red and gold brocade bodice.

“See? It matches your hair so much better.” Jinny said. “Here let me adjust this.” She tugged and pulled, getting the gown to settle on Ronal’s false curves more naturally. Had Ronal truly possessed some of the assets the young ladies did, he would have felt scandalized.

“Good!” Jinny took his hand. “Now that we’re all ready, let’s go.”

Ronal enjoyed a very tasty meal and didn’t have to work to blush prettily when Sir Jins raised a glass to him and praised his comeliness and his charm. The young ladies he’d been placed with made good dining companions and he sighed with relief when he found out that it was Yindra who was being called in to share the lord’s bed that night. “I’m not sure I’m up to serving him like that yet.” He confided to her.

“Don’t worry,” she said brightly, smiling at him and patting his hand — now with painted nails courtesy of their hospitality. “Sir Jins won’t ask you to spend the night for a little while yet, though you may be called for other duties as early as tomorrow.” She left in a swirl of newly washed skirts and perfume. Ronal began to wonder if Sir Jins wasn’t on to something.

Ronal really wanted to stay, but he knew what would happen if he did. They’d bedded down with a minimum of fuss, though when Jinny had offered to let him share her bed if he got cold, he worried that his improvised binding would burst. Even if he’d wanted to, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep with so many lovely females that close. So with regret, he waited for the girls to fall asleep and stole out, borrowing a bag to pack the dress he’d stolen along with the one he’d been given and the wigs. Through some ingenuity he’d succeeded in getting some new smallclothes and changing into a nightgown without the courtesans seeing that he was still wearing a tight corset stuffed with water skins. He was beginning to worry that his innards would never be the same after this adventure.

His fortune was still running low, evidenced by the fact that he met the captain of the guard — a large, black haired woman armored even in Sir Jins’ own keep and carrying a sword - halfway down the hall. He cursed himself for not realized that such a high ranking person would naturally be guarding Sir Jins’ most prized possessions, the flowers of his court. A plan formed as the armored woman bore down on him. “What’s your business?” She asked gruffly.

Ronal tried to memorize how she talked. “I was looking … I was … I …”

The guard stepped forward. “Out with it, girl! What are you doing out of your harem?”

Had the captain been at all wary of this slim blonde beauty, she would never have been taken the way Ronal did. He struck her in the solar plexus as hard as he could and followed up with some blows he’d learned from his arms master. It was still a struggle; the woman was a professional and Ronal’s surprise was effectively negated by the unusual center of gravity that his watery padding gave him as well as the breath restriction from his corset. When she was finally laid out, however, Ronal dragged her into a secluded corner and stripped her. His golden wig was traded for the black one, a little longer than the guard captain’s but not so much as to draw attention. He breathed a very long sigh of relief at being able to put the corset away. The guard captain was still built like a lady, but not quite as drastically as the courtesans and her armor would suffice to mold him. Though he had to retain the padding, he felt much better strapping himself into her armor — though not too good because it pinched - and putting on her sword. Her boots had to be discarded as too big but his would look good enough. He felt almost sad wiping off the cosmetics, but consoled himself with the thought that he’d packed some away during his escape. If he wanted to … experiment … he was sure he could find a willing partner in his own land.

Taking on a more authoritative stride, Ronal slung his bag over his shoulder and made for the drawbridge. He threw a few salutes, but was not challenged until he reached the gate. “What is your business?” A guard asked.

“Orders from his lordship,” Ronal felt his throat tearing at the combination of higher pitch and gruffness he had to maintain to sound like the captain. “Let me pass.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They traded salutes and Ronal departed, staying on the road until he was sure he was out of sight and then cutting into the forest. He was sure he’d lose them. It would be at least morning before anyone asked after Reeanah and even longer before the guards admitted they’d lost him.

In the harem, Jinny rolled over. “Has he gone?”

“Yeah.” Came a murmured response.

“Good. He was sweet, but I don’t think he could have stood spending the whole night wrapped up in that stuff with us sleeping next to him.”

“Funny, though. Especially when you made up that bit about your uncle.”

“It was fun seeing him panic like that. I can see why Sir Jins made the mistake; he looked adorable trying to think of a way out. Good night.”

“Night, Jinny.”

Three days later, Ronal was wandering the wilderness and starving. He hadn’t had time to pilfer any food and there was precious little that could be caught with a sword and the makings for a female disguise. He’d thrown the armor in a ditch; there was no situation in which it would have helped. He stopped by a stream thinking that at least he wouldn’t die of thirst and considered his options. Over the sound of the water he heard the industry of a small town. He’d passed three or four, straddling the road while he passed around them in the forest. He really didn’t want to ask for help since he had yet to pass the border and they were Sir Jins’ subjects. That meant that they likely knew who he was and that Sir Jins wanted him. There was probably even a reward. He couldn’t risk in.

On the other hand… His gaze strayed to the sack, bulging with its cargo of femininity. They’d be on the lookout for a young man of his description and maybe even a beautiful girl with golden blonde hair, but a young woman who didn’t match the descriptions might win their pity if not their love. Maidens in distress were still a common enough sight in smaller communities, runaways from worse lives looking for a better group of people to settle down with. There was often a lack of females of a proper age, so the towns were careful to treat them with kindness in the hopes that they’d stay and marry a local son who was otherwise doomed to go far afield for a mate.

Ronal had little choice, so he began as soon as he’d finished formulating his scheme. As much as he dreaded it, he put on the soft shift and laced himself back into the corset, going as far as to hook the ends over a tree branch and pull with all his might. He needed to be absolutely sure he would be mistaken for what he wanted to be. His filled waterskins were installed in the appropriate locations and tested by a few jumps to make sure they were still adequate. Already seeing stars, but resolute, he made a snap decision to go with the red brocade gown once he was in the petticoats and other underlayers. Sir Jins was more likely to remember his whore as she was working than at dinner. He was disappointed that he couldn’t use the golden wig, but that was too distinctive and the black was right out as well, so that left the red. Everything was the worse for wear and he had to use a little mud to stick the wig on, but that was fine. It all added to the illusion of a runaway who had nothing but the fancy clothes on her back.

He had the river for a mirror, so he was very careful with the cosmetics. He’d learned a little from the harem and was meticulous with location and amount. The look had to say ‘I ran away and now I want to make the best impression I can given that I’ve been wandering the woods.’ Having good makeup but dirty clothes would send that message clearly or so he hoped.

Looking at the rebuilt and redheaded Reeanah’s reflection, Ronal was very happy to see a frightened but pretty girl looking back. Her red hair was dull — he couldn’t help what he’d had to work with — and her clothes were the worse for wear, but she looked like she’d made an effort. Rubbing her curves, she was also aware that though her rump was shapely and symmetrical, she had one boob larger than the other. She reached into her bodice and drew out the end of a waterskin. Wrapping her red lips around it, she suckled on her teat until the breast was the same size as its neighbor. A queer expression of longing crossed her face as she put it back and she clutched at her petticoat, rubbing her thighs together. With no one looking, Ronal was freer to react to the reflection of himself as a female doing these things and though it meant soiling the smallclothes he’d bound himself with, he had to get some relief before he went into town.

Goodman Ferd was the first person to see the willowy young lady staggering towards their hamlet. She had a light bag and had obviously gone to great pains with cosmetics, but was travel worn and appeared ill. He called for others and those that were in town that day turned out to help, catching her as she fell into their arms. The girl — Reeanah as she told them her name was later — was taken to the home of Goodman Tarsk, who had recently lost his wife and had the room for her. After being given water and a little food, she explained herself.

“I was,” she blushed, “I was one of Sir Jins’ girls. He said I was too reserved and sent me away with no pension.”

Ronal had gambled on the peasants not knowing too much of Sir Jins beyond his reputation and was rewarded by scowls at Sir Jins and kindly words for her. He brushed his hair back out of his face and smiled bravely. “I can work for my food if I have to, but I’m so hungry.”

“Don’t you worry about that, my dear,” Tarsk said. “We’ll get you back on your feet and then we’ll worry about what to do about you. My son will be back from the fields at sundown and then we can eat a proper meal. For now, you can have this,” he gave her a loaf of brown bread and some ale. “Now you just get your strength back.”

Ronal gladly took the food and thanked the man profusely. The mention of his son was exactly what Ronal was hoping for and he ate with a relish born of having not had much in the last couple of days. The farmer asked him questions and he answered as best he could, trying to keep things simple so he could remember this wayward young lady’s backstory in case he needed to repeat any of it. When he was done, he brushed the crumbs from his skirt and closed his eyes. “I’m so tired,” he said. True, but the pitiable little whimper he added was manufactured.

“Lie down, dear, and we’ll wait for Goerg.” Tarsk said. “He’ll be home soon.”

Ronal was given the peasant’s own bed to sleep in and nodded off despite the corset and binding round his nethers. He awoke when the door slammed and did his best to tidy up his wig and gown before going to meet the strapping young man who was waiting for him.

The part he was playing was well known to him, though he’d only played on the opposite side before. ‘Reeanah’ ate and flirted lightly with Goerg, who had evidently never played the game, since he seemed gobsmacked by Ronal’s attentions. The thin-waisted redhead who laughed at all his jokes and never took her large green eyes off of him was a dream come true in this tiny community. In those rich clothes, she seemed like a princess of old and even held herself like someone of that class. The fact she was paying such close attention to him left him tongue tied at times. This only made Ronal smile more prettily and press harder with handtouching and giggles at everything Goerg said. The food was plentiful as befitted farmers and it was no trick for Ronal to hide two livers and a knife under his gown. Seeing Goerg’s expression, he was sure he’d need it.

When the meal came to a close, Ronal excused himself and departed with a swish of skirts and an only slightly exaggerated hip swing. Looking over his shoulder to see Goerg still looking at him, he smiled and — after looking obviously at Tarsk to make sure he wasn’t looking — blew the young peasant a kiss.

The moment he had a bit of privacy, Ronal went to work. He undressed for bed — leaving on the corset and underdress for ‘modesty’ — and started in on the next part of his plan. He sliced one liver in half and pressed the halves over his ‘breasts’ until they stuck. The texture wouldn’t be perfect, but it would mimic skin well enough when dried and better than the leather of the waterskins. He wished he could have found some beaten lamb skin but that was for later if a later came. He then very, very, very carefully carved the other liver, scooping out some of the inside through the complicated slit he’d made in it. He knew what the real thing looked and felt like, but Goerg wouldn’t know as well and could be fooled — he hoped — by a pleasant feeling imitation. On the other side of the liver from the slit, he carved a phallic indentation and then threaded one of his feminine loincloths through the middle. He took off his binding cloth and substituted this, tying it tightly at the sides and testing it by thinking of how he looked to see if it would hold him in. It did and he put another pair of smallclothes on over the simulated loin.

He lay in the darkness, waiting for the creak which came after a short period of time. “Who’s there,” he whispered.

“Goerg.” The young man replied. “May I …”

“Come in,” Ronal smiled, unsure if the man could see him. “I was hoping you would come.”

Goerg required only a little motivating to climb into bed with Ronal. When the touching came, Ronal thought he did a very nice job of pretending the right sounds and gestures. When the young man mounted him, there seemed to be no fault found and soon he was snoring quietly next to Ronal. For his part Ronal didn’t know what to do next. He’d have to marry Goerg if he stayed, which would be great cover. He’d just have to see what the morning brought. He wasn’t totally dissatisfied. The buck had been energetic enough to stimulate him and it was kind of fun playing the damsel for once. He dropped off, thinking about what he’d do if he ever saw someone who looked like he did now asking for help.

Playing the Piper

By Paul Calhoun

Paid for by Demuto up to a point. Then I went crazy and just kept running with it until I was done.

The cats of Bad Munder have heard about the goings on in Hamlin. The Pig Piper, the rat suit, and how they might be out of a job soon. So the president of the Society of Mousers comes up with his own rodent costume, one meant to trap the mice rather than fool the government.
Soon word of the seductive giant mouse has reached the rodent Syndicate and when they find out the truth, they send three operatives in a cat costume to trap the trap.
After that, a sexy scene I wanted to do and an only partly connected political plot involving the mice, their cat suit, skunks, wolf suits and interesting times.
One of the rare times in which I do vore because it's cats eating mice so how can I NOT do vore?

TL;DR

STEP RIGHT UP. We got suits, we got sexy, we got skunks, vore (yes vore!), elections, romance, excitement, murder, hate, revenge! It's not a story about a boy and his dog! It's the Pied Piper's Sequel!

Pandemonium had broken out at the Society of Mousers in Bad Münder as news arrived of the Pig Piper’s utter destruction of all rats in Hameln and the failure of the local president of the Society to discredit the Piper using a rat costume. Whispers were already breaking out, questions being raised as to why the president of the Society of Mousers in Hameln had a rat suit. The noise redoubled when a cat ran in saying that one of the candidates to lead Bad Münder’s corporation as mayor next year was promising to call on the Piper when elected and to rid the town of rodents. The hall echoed with doubts, concerns, theories and wild ideas to keep the Piper out of their town. The pressure of the sound hurt their sensitive ears and yet they raised their voices more and more to try to be heard above the din.

Suddenly their conversation was drowned out by the sound of a huge bronze bell that had been dragged in to the hall and rung by the president of the Bad Münder Society. “Queens and Toms!” He called. “Pipe down!” The president, an orange and brown striped tom in a tall tiered hat waved his paws to call for further silence. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” An unidentified cat called.

“Don’t interrupt your betters.” The president snarled. “As I was saying, you have nothing to worry about.” He cleared his throat, sending a small bone sailing over the heads of the audience, then began to speak in his ‘public’ voice. “The president of the Society of Cats in Hameln is a good tom and I would never cast aspersions on his honesty, personal preferences or intelligence.”

“Sure he wouldn’t.” A cat whispered.

“Nevertheless,” the president continued as if no one had spoken, “the Society in Hameln is far less civilized than our own. They meet in a junkyard and hunt mice in filthy streets. We are far better off.”

“Yeah, and look how many mice we catch.”

“Do you want to be in charge? Huh?” The president said. “No? Then shut your yob and listen to me. Echem. Hameln let the Piper pipe. They waited until all the rats were gone and then tried to discredit the piper to get the reward for themselves. They got greedy, my friends.” He spread his paws. “All we want, toms and queens, is a job. Security. We need to keep the Piper out entirely. I will say this. Hameln went about the wrong thing in almost the right way. What would happen, kitties, if Bad Münder’s rodent problem suddenly went away? If we caught so many mice that the corporation decided it wasn’t worth the money to hire the Pig Piper? Then what?”

“It’d be a blessed miracle, that’s what!”

A toothy smile spread across the president’s face. “Then call me a miracle worker.” He reached into a sack.

“Holy moly! Don’t tell us that you’ve got a rat costume too?”

“Better!” The president held up a gray mass that he let unroll to the floor. It was evidently a mouse costume. A gray one with auburn hair done in a short sweep, wide cheeks and full lips on the end of a short muzzle. The mouse’s body was already padded into a svelte but obvious hourglass and her hairless tail pooled on the floor, ending in a white tuft. “We’ll seduce those mice right into the open and bam! “ He slapped his palm. “We get ‘em!”

“Oh, come on!” A different onlooker said. “It’d be like being seduced by a sexy clock tower! Their basketball players don’t even come to a foot and a half!”

“Yeah, and where did that come from anyway?” A queen asked. “Do you just happen to have female mouse suits lying around?”

“I had this idea the moment I heard the news from Hameln two days ago.” The president said.

“How come you heard and we didn’t?”

“And how did you get that made in two days?”

“Listen,” the president said, “do you want to talk all day or catch some mice?”

“This is absurd! No mouse in their right mind is going to be fooled by that.”

“Resign!” The call was taken up from all corners.

“Oh, so that’s it, is it? Fine!” The president jammed the mouse mask over his head, his pointed ears settling easily into her rounded ones, though his canines had difficulty fitting inside the large curved rodent teeth that creased her bottom lip when she smiled. The long-lashed gray eyelids blinked and the president took a deep breath through the wide nostrils. He bent and pulled a whalebone corset out of the sack. “I’ll wear it and show all of you how a real cat catches mice!”

“In lacy underwear?” A catcall came.

“Yeah, you ought to get some hose to go with that!” Another shouted.

“Laugh it up!” The president gasped, having found a willing assistant to lace him in. His furry ginger feet were swallowed by the pink hairless ones of the costume and short gray fur covered brown stripes as the long, slender legs slid up his with agonizing slowness. The president allowed none of the soreness this caused to betray itself on his pretty mouse face, continuing on as if his legs were not being painfully compressed by doing the same to his sinuous tail, uncomfortably stuffing it into the hairless mouse tail against the lie of the fur. The tuft lifted off the ground and twitched back and forth as the president tested the fit. He pulled the costume up further and the mouse face looked up in sudden surprise at the outbreak of giggles. She looked down and then crossed her cat paws over the protrusion from between her legs. Turning away, she worked her obvious tom part back into the folds it was sticking out from and arranged it so it wouldn’t fall out again. Retreating behind a screen, the president of the Society of Mousers allowed himself a grimace as he roughly – and still against the lie – put his arms into the costume’s and with delicate pink fingers pulled the zipper up under her chin.

She fit a pair of opaque black lenses into the eye sockets of the costume, decreasing her ability to see but giving her the appearance of huge mouse eyes. She wrapped a black garter belt around her hips and rolled stockings over her legs to clip to it. A figure hugging black dress followed, its straight skirt ending at above mid thigh and its simple top wrapping around her chest just above the nipple of her gray furred breasts. The zipper track started just above her tail, leaving a small opening through which it passed and which gave a brief view of the top of her crack if she wasn’t careful. She shifted from one foot to the other, wiggling her rear and feeling the dress shift back and forth over her body.

The first thing the cats knew of their leader finishing changing into a sexy mouse costume was the extending of a sheer stockinged leg out from behind the screen, the foot ending in a black shiny sandal on a pink foot. The leg was followed by the rest of the mouse, moving her hips back and forth in an exaggerated wiggle accentuated by the soft flick of her tail. She rested a paw on her flat belly and the other slid down her side as she turned to show off her curved backside to the cats. She trailed her tail tuft over the jaw of a cat in the front row and then looked over her shoulder to wink.

“You’re still way too tall!” A cat called weakly.

“I like to think of it as having legs that go on forever,” she purred.

“You don’t sound like any mouse I ever heard.”

“Yeah, and they’ll be listening to my voice.” The president said normally. “Gimme a break. Now do you want to watch me work or do you want to watch me work?” She let one paw rest on her skirt suggestively. Swishing down the stairs and out the door in a way that made the other cats suspicious that this wasn’t their president’s first time dolled up, the mouse girl went down the street, flexing her glutes so that her buttocks outlined against the fabric of her skirt with each step. Waving at the cats to stay hidden, she turned down a lane known for a severe infestation and slowed even further, swinging her hip as far as it would go every time she put one heeled foot directly in front of the other. She flipped her hair back and looked over her shoulder as the first scrabbles began. “Oh!” She said, bending down to present a literally cavernous cleavage to the brown mouse that had exited a crack in the house she’d just passed. “Aren’t you a cutie!”

At first some of the mice made a mistake of scale, seeing her after she’d passed and thinking she was a normal member of their species close by rather than a long way away. Word spread, though, about the enormous babe and much of the crowd that appeared was curious at first, then more and more aroused despite themselves. Especially when one spotted field mouse ran between her legs and started drooling at the sight of her uncovered vagina. At least half the throng was more interested in the contest to get a peek down her top or up the skirt than in the mouse woman herself, though she shook them off with the ease of her size when they started the scurry up her leg to get a closer ‘look.’

She giggled and ran her tail around to brush the tuft against their heads. “I never expected such a welcome, boys!” She winked. “I hope you have fun.” The – mostly male – group of mice began to breathe hard at the tantalizing promise and even more when she bent low again and her skirt rode way up, only stopping because her tail was in the way. She looked back, put a dainty paw to her muzzle though they all knew she was only pretending to be embarrassed and then shaped her long tail into a heart. “I don’t know if I can handle all of you,” she simpered, “but I’ll try.” They had to make way to keep from being crushed by her sandals as she turned and walked away and the mice followed. She turned a corner and they were set upon by more cats than they’d ever seen in one place. All of them were grabbed and swallowed and a very unlucky few caught sight of their seductress kicking off her high heeled sandals and diving in to pounce on and devour her share. The mouse girl tipped her muzzle back, swallowed the last of the mice and pulled the mask back to show a grinning cat. “So?”

The cats all voiced their praises of the president. The mouse girl slid the mask back on, slipped into her high heeled sandals and looked down demurely as the cheering continued. She put her hand on her hip, wrapped her tail around her body so the white fluff of fur at the end waved in front of her nose and smiled evilly. “So, same time tomorrow?” She said. As the cheers came, she snapped playfully at the tuft with her wide herbivore teeth.

“I’m telling you,” Nunzio said, “they all disappeared after going with some dame.”

“Kid, that’s ridiculous.” Giovanni replied, his dark pelt reflecting the light of the small bulb. He was the only mouse in the neighborhood with an electric light in his place behind the walls of a Corporation Councilor. “Over a hundred mice have gone missing. What is this lady doing?”

“I don’t know, boss. I’m just tellin’ you want I saw.” Nunzio said sullenly.

Giovanni got up from his seat, a carved wooden throne from a child’s playset. “You’ve seen this woman then?”

“From far away, yeah. She was a real peach. Though I could have sworn she was over five feet tall.”

Giovanni sighed. Some days it didn’t seem worth it to run an operation in Germany. Between the pigs claiming they had magic flutes and attacks of building sized women, he yearned for the simple times before he’d heard of all the wonderful opportunities to be made in Germany. The food, they’d told him, was huge and plentiful. Apparently so were the females. He put his arm around Nunzio, “Listen, kid. Do you have any leads on where this giant peach is supposed to show up next?”

“I made a map of where she’s been.” Nunzio laid out what must have once been a bus map. “See? She’s going west. I bet she’ll be right here tonight.”

“Good. Take Arnold and Neil with you. The three of you are to keep your distance,” his grip tightened, the pink paw digging into Nunzio’s shoulder. “I don’t care if she’s the ripest Teutonic tomato you’ve ever seen. You’re to stay far away and keep an eye on her. Nothing else. Clear?”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good. Don’t let me detain you.”

“Why do there have to be three of us?” Neil groused. “And why do we have to use these binoculars from a building two blocks away rather than go down and see for ourselves?”

“Because you’re here to watch the broad, not mess around.” Nunzio told him. “Now pay attention, she’s coming!”

“Oh, wow.” Arnold sighed. Nunzio was in no place to reprimand him as his own eyes were glued to the vision prancing down the street. The gray mouse girl had done for a long, wavy black hairstyle, her rounded ears peeking out from the black mass. She was wearing a pink and red party dress with several alternating colors of frilly, fluffy skirt that formed a pink and red cloud around her legs. The entire mass moved as one and the mice on the roof could almost hear the rustle of them as she pressed her hands to her knees and bent to greet the swiftly growing group of male mice. They could also actually hear the click of her Mary Jane shoes on the pavement, her legs covered in knee socks that left a large portion of bare fur between knee and skirt. She stood for a moment with her paws to her chest looking out at the sea of smaller rodents, then stooped to talk to them.

Neil swallowed hard when she bent lower, her back to them, and her skirt flipped up so that they could see she was wearing nothing underneath. Her audience evidently was expecting this and many had placed themselves to watch. Her tail flicked around and the watchers all wished that the delicate lick of fluff was touching them. Her bosom heaved, obviously unrestrained beneath the light taffeta of her bodice. Every movement was a hypnotic ripple across her body. Her nose almost touched the nearest mouse as she spoke, her pure black eyes wide with artful innocence. Whatever she was saying was heightening the effect, since all the male mice followed her dreamily as she minced back the way she’d come.

“She’s on the move!” Nunzio said, shaking his head to rid himself of the effects of watching the huge but sensual mouse woman strutting her stuff.

“Right, boss!” The other two said.

“You know, it’s weird that she’s such a hot piece.” Neil said as they slid down the drainpipe.

“Why?” Arnold replied.

“Well, think about it. You try to put your hand on that and you get way too much. How would you take her to bed? I could climb all the way inside her cooter with room to spare!”

“That’s enough,” Nunzio said. “Come on!” They scurried up another building in time to see the mouse girl going into a part of town mice avoided. It was filled with cats and other carnivores who enjoyed a mouse if one showed up on their plate. The mice had learned early on to stick to herbivore and large omnivore neighborhoods if they wanted a halfway decent chance at a living. Cat territory was bad news. With a commanding glare that brooked no argument, Nunzio made it clear that they were following the mouse woman wherever she went.

She flounced along, her skirts dancing and her chest bouncing, letting her tail play along the heads of the obedient parade behind her until she turned down a narrow lane. The mice followed and were surrounded swiftly by what looked like every cat in town.

“What’s she doin’?” Neil whispered. “She’s no-“

“Shhh!” Nunzio hissed. “Look!”

The mouse woman was gleefully pouncing on the mice herself now, paying little heed to how her boobs popped out of their confinement or her skirt rode up so that when she fell on a mouse there was nothing to hide her naked backside. What followed was the most erotically terrifying thing the watchers had ever seen. After sampling a mouse or two, the lady mouse spread her legs wide and stuffed a mouse up into her vagina, closing her legs and daintily pulling her top back up over her chest. A dreamy smile spread across her face, her eyelids lowering in ecstasy over at the stimulation of having a mouse struggling for his life inside her, unwittingly massaging her walls with his scrabbling to escape. The wide black pools peeked out from under the heavy gray lids, fully revealing themselves sporadically at the occasional motion inside that made her take a sudden squeaking breath. Forced to hold herself tightly, she placed one foot as close in front of the other as possible, a sexy stroll towards another mouse being held down. She picked him up and dropped him into her bodice, then started massaging her breasts, crushing the mouse in her cleavage. She bent over and raised her tail, pushing the skirt well up and displaying her weakly pulsing vulva and boobs jiggling with the motion of the captive rodent inside.

Two cat men took places in front and behind, kneeling. One buried his face in her chest and stuck his tongue as far as he could into the giggling mouse girl’s cleavage, questing for the mouse held within. The other cat did the same on his end, spreading her labia with his own lips and sticking his tongue in as far as it would go. They both had to move skillfully to maintain contact with the mouse girl, who was twitching and moaning at the frenzied licking. The two cats found and devoured their prizes within moments of one another and a third grasped the mouse woman’s hips, delivering the final thrust that took her over the edge into an ear splitting climax.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Neil said. Nunzio couldn’t argue. It was a terrible thing to watch a macabre orgy with his own species as the main dish and the star attraction, turning cannibalism into foreplay. Despite their revulsion, they were even more determined – and far less likely to be affected. When the mouse woman got up, they followed her to the Society of Mouser’s meeting hall. Who else? They thought. The mouse woman went in and seemingly oblivious of the crowd of happy, well fed cats, disrobed casually. None of the cats batted an eye when she removed her face, but the mice watching through the window almost fainted at the sight of the ginger and black face of the president of the society. “That murderous perv!” Neil said.

“Shhh!” Nunzio cautioned. The president was removing the disguise with obvious practice. “So now we know.” He said quietly. “Let’s get back to the big boss and tell him the dame’s a dude and the president of cats at that. He’ll know what to do.”

“Hey,” Neil joked weakly, “it could be worse.”

“How?” Nunzio sighed.

“We could be dealing with a carnivorous dame three times our size who hangs out with cats.”

“You mean rather than a cat pretending to be one?”

“Yeah.”

Nunzio thought. “Eh, I have to agree. I wouldn’t want to go near either, but it’s better not to have huge mouse-eating girls palling around with cats.”

“It was bad,” Giovanni said, seeing Nunzio’s flat ears and lifeless tail.

“Terrible, boss.” Nunzio said.

“It had better be something we can deal with, kid. I’ve had just about every rodent with any clout or money at my door begging for a solution. If we can sew this one up, it’ll be the biggest payout we’ve ever seen.” He sat with his paws steeped as Nunzio described what they’d seen. His tail thrashed at the revelation that the mouse woman was the president of the Mousers. “I see.” He said at length. “If this continues much longer we may as well throw ourselves to the Piper. At least he brings a swift and somewhat dignified death. Tell me, why do you think those unfortunate men followed this siren? A cat is over three times taller than most of us. Surely this must be something they think of.”

“Boss, that’s cats for you,” Nunzio said. “Kick me in the ass if I ever say this to another mouse, but even their heavies move like our daintiest dames. Stick one in a dress and make him look like one of our broads and it don’t matter if he’s the size of a skyscraper to us. My boys were breathing heavy until they saw what was really happening to those palookas and I can’t say as I wasn’t too. That cat had all the moves and that counts for a lot. Sure, I guess the guys down there couldn’t have thought she was a mouse like they was, but they wouldn’t have thought that she was a cat neither, much less a male one. It didn’t occur to us and we was watching her eating them.”

“I see.” Giovanni stood up. “There are many dangerously creative mice in this town. It seems that I will have to speak with them to come up with a solution.” His jaw tightened. “Don’t tell anyone. If their scheme ceases to work, they’ll try a new one. I believe that we can stop them here, but there will be losses.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Then again, that will only make those who are left pay more, and perhaps their widows will want revenge. We’re not running a charity here.”

“You wanted to see me, boss?” Nunzio asked.

“That’s usually why I call you,” Giovanni said drily. “You’re getting leadership roles now, kid, so you can stop the whole ‘henchman’ act.”

“Aw, boss!”

“The argument is over.” Giovanni said. “Let me ask you something. Are you willing to stay on the project?”

“You mean that cat what’s dressing up like a dame?”

“If you must put it that way to feel like you are still a member of this organization.” Giovanni replied.

“Yeah, sure. You mean you’ve got something to help stop ‘em?”

“That very much depends on you and your associates.” Giovanni replied. “Follow.”

Giovanni took him to a dusty warehouse and through a partition into a section that had been walled off and forgotten about by the builders. They passed stacks of unmarked crates twice as tall as Nunzio before emerging into a clear space. Nunzio’s heart raced and only the calmness of Giovanni kept him from turning and running at what he saw. “Jesus, Mary and Holy Saint Joseph, boss! Warn a fellow, will you?”

Giovanni absently pinched Nunzio’s ear until he squeaked. “For blasphemy.”

In the center of the clearing, surrounded by mice on scaffolds was a cat with velvety, tawny fur. Despite himself, Nunzio felt a rise in his trousers at the large breasts, wide hips, very narrow waist and generous bottom topped with a long, sinuous tail. Her claws on both feet and paws were painted red. A thick collar of longer, lighter colored fur sat on her shoulders, crossing down into the valley between her boobs and across her back. Her face contrasted with her figure, cute with a short, wide muzzle and an upturned nose, wide golden eyes and fluffy cheek fur. A head of hair a darker brown than her fur fell in soft waves to mix with her collar and ended just above her tail. As Nunzio took in the curvy cat lady, her tail twitched and a mouse head poked out from between her buttocks. “How did that look?”

“Still not much motion.”

“Bugger!” The mouse head disappeared into the cat lady’s rear and the tail started moving again.

“A cat suit, boss?” Nunzio asked.

“Can you think of anything better?” Giovanni asked. “We need to get that cat alone to deal with him and his disguise. The president of the Mousers won’t go anywhere as himself without an entourage and rarely out of predator town unless he’s hunting with his pals.” Giovanni made a face. “Not that he does that anymore and now we know why. We need a lure and this,“ he gestured at the enormous leonine female being swarmed over by worker mice, “is our best bet. Now, as to why I wanted to make sure you were still committed to the job.”

“Uh, boss,” Nunzio hesitated. “You can’t be saying you want me to get into that and vamp it up with one of the meanest cats in Germany all by myself?”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“That would be absurd. There’s no way we’d be able to get that costume to work with one operator. Neil and Arnold will be with you. As I said, you and your associates.”

“Aw, boss!” Nunzio complained.

“You were willing to work when you thought it meant sneaking in and somehow assaulting the president of the Mousers while surrounded by his cronies. Is this really a worse prospect?” At that moment the cat lady’s head fell off and several of the workers swore loudly. “I’m sure these little troubles will be dealt with in good time. Right?” He called to the mice.

“Sure, boss!” They shouted back.

“See? You have nothing to worry about.” Giovanni said. “Do as I tell you and you’ll have a very large cut of what we get for this.”

“So why aren’t we asking some of the gals to get into it?” Neil asked when Nunzio explained.

“We ain’t makin’ our ladies prance around in a cat costume, shaking their tails for some carnivore fink!” Nunzio said. “If them cats ain’t sinking to the level of making their women do the seducing, then we ain’t either. It’s not decent.”

“Are you ready to test it?” Tony, the mouse in charge of the lab asked.

“Sure, sure! Give us the whole spiel.”

“As you can see, we’ve given her very long legs relative to average.”

“Yeah, she’s got gams.” Nunzio agreed.

“Achem. Since there was no way of one of us getting our entire leg into a cat’s, it seemed like a good opportunity to increase her appeal. Plus after going over our designs for the stilts, we felt that less was more in terms of how much the legs were filled by the operator. We couldn’t do the same with the arms, of course. Long legs are attractive, but not arms. The operator on the legs will have his feet around here,” he tapped the cat’s mid thigh on a diagram. The arms’ operator will have his paws here,” he struck a point near her elbow. Your approximate arrangement inside looks like this.” Three mousy silhouettes appeared in the middle of the body, one with his feet in the legs, the next up sitting on his shoulders with his arms and paws in the costume’s, and finally a third mouse on his shoulders in the costume’s shoulders and head. “There are several things that are best shown once you are inside, but as you can see you will be surrounded by a large quantity of support and padding except here,” he showed where the waist narrowed and the furred skin almost touched the middle mouse’s leg and bottom’s head. “We felt the aesthetic of a very narrow waist was worth it, and it allows the mouse doing the walking to see clearly out of the belly.”

“So what about the arm mouse?” Nunzio asked.

“He’ll have the narrowest view out from between the breasts.” Tony told them. “But we felt that he also had the lowest priority, being neither the one talking nor walking. Now, let’s get started.”

“Naturally I’m on top,” Nunzio said.

“Awww.” Niel moaned.

“I’m in charge, I do the talking.”

“And you get to breathe real air instead of the stuffy stuff in that broad suit.”

“Suck it up. You’re on the bottom.” Nunzio told him.

“Really, boss?” Neil complained.

“You’re more expressive than Arnold, so we need you to make sure she shakes her tail right. Arnold’s got quick fingers, so I’m betting that’ll make him better with her hands. How do we get in?”

They had to swarm up a ladder to a catwalk that crossed the cat lady’s lower back. Tony spread the fur and opened a door in her spine thick with padding. “The leg guy gets in here.” Grumbling, Neil squeezed through the small opening and into the darkness inside. “You should feel shoes in there. Slip your feet in.” The scaffolding shook as the cat lady shifted and her toes wiggled. “That’s right. Move your legs as little as possible until we’re ready. There’s also some straps that you need to pull over your shoulders.” They could tell when Neil did this because they were almost knocked off of the platform by the cat lady’s tail going by. “Not so much! We’ll work on swinging the tail later. So are you OK in there?”

“It’s not so bad,” Neil called back.

“Great.” Tony closed the door, locked it with a tiny key and smoothed the fur down until it disappeared. They went to her upper back and Arnold vanished through a similar opening, Neil complaining about how heavy he was as he settled down in place. The cat lady’s paw flexed, but Arnold kept her arms at her sides. Finally her hair was swept out of the way so Nunzio could squirm through a hole between her shoulders and poke his head through into hers. He felt some resistance against his face and the cat lady opened her mouth, blinked and moved her eyes. “That’s right!” Tony said, running around to the front. “We had a hard time with this bit, but it seems to be working out. You should have a very strange view.”

“That’s the truth and no mistake,” Nunzio said, the cat lady’s wide mouth in snyc with the words. “It’s like I can see through her eyes. Everything’s so small and I can see so much,” she crossed her eyes to look at her nose, which wiggled. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. “This feels really weird.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Tony slid down the ladder and they moved the scaffolds out so the cat lady could move.

Giovanni had been watching and said, “Can’t you do something about her voice?”

“Right.” Tony pressed a button on a remote. “Now try saying something.”

“Like what?” The cat lady said in a deep purr.

“Hey, kid! You still talk like a hood.”

“Would you prefer a more refined diction?” The cat lady asked in a flowing English accent. “I picked this up off the BBC.”

“I knew you were faking it.” Giovanni said. “That’s much better. You sound like a foreigner, so the cats won’t ask so many questions.”

“Everything will take a lot of getting used to,” Tony warned them. “Your arms and legs are going to be much stronger than you expect. We couldn’t have you weaker than a kitten after all.”

There was an almost inaudibly muffled sound from the cat lady’s belly and she said, “Neil wants to know if it’s time to go someplace.”

“Just a moment!” The worker mice were sliding mattresses in. They got them as far as the cat lady and Tony said, “Lift your foot.”

She did and immediately began to sway. Her arms windmilled, but Arnold was out of sync with Neil’s loss of balance and her body bent several places as the three mice inside all fell in different directions. Her hips gyrated, then moved forwards and back as her paws tried to grab on to something. The worker mice scattered as she fell backward onto the mattresses, her paws missing them and leaving her flat on he back with the paws outstretched and her legs splayed. She raised her head, her muzzle sitting between her boobs. “Ugh.”

“And that’s why we brought those in.” Tony said as the workers pushed the mattresses together the rest of the way, taking the cat lady with them.

“This is actually good.” Tony told Giovanni. “If they can get up, they’ll be a long way to getting used to it.”

“Come on!” Giovanni called to the three cat-suited mice. “On your feet!”

The padding of the cat costume meant that Arnold and Neil could quietly consult without being heard. There wasn’t much for Nunzio to do except try to throw the weight of her head correctly as she rolled over, put her paws on the mattress and got her knees under her. Her claws dug into the mattress as she straightened her arms and drew one foot up and flat against the mattress. There was a mechanical whine as she straightened up and put the other foot down and her left knee started smoking.

“Oh damn! Don’t move!” Tony and the others were already leaning a ladder against her leg.

“The boys say easier said than done.” The cat lady reported, swaying. “This mattress is not particularly conducive to good balance.”

“That’s right, keep practicing that Britishness.” Giovanni said.

After a frenzy of tools and adjustments, the workers closed the knee and removed the ladder. The cat lady took a tiny step, her hands out at her sides ready to adjust her balance or catch herself if something went wrong. A couple more and she lengthened her stride from a shuffle until she was taking steps the length of her own feet. “Neil says it’s hard when he can’t even see them,” the cat lady said.

“Tony!” Giovanni said.

“On it, boss.”

The workers rolled tall mirrors in and surrounded the cat lady’s padded floor space with them. She whistled. “Aren’t we a looker, even stumbling around? Sorry, I mean we make a very lovely sight despite our present difficulties. Yes, I know you’re getting better.” She kneaded the soft mattresses with her clawed feet. “That looks good. Remember to do that if we’re ever on grass or the mark has us walking on him.” She continued to move in wide circles around the room. “Feet in one in front of the other, Neil. Swing your shoulders a little, Arnold. There, now we’re looking like we mean it.” The cat lady said.

“Catch!” Tony shouted and the workers heaved a ball sized for the cat lady into the air. Her top half lunged for it as her legs continued their measured walking practice and she ended up falling forward. She got up faster than before, but the next throw had her lean back too far and topple, though she caught herself well enough to land on her rear with her paws under her for balance and so was up again quickly. “You have to learn to work together.” Tony said.

“They say they’re trying but it isn’t exactly like they can talk that fast to each other,” the cat lady said.

“Then you’ll all have to watch out and figure out signals.” Tony told them. The next fifty or so throws had the cat lady either miss, almost trip, fall over completely, or overbalance. She started catching them after that, keeping her balance after little hops and pounces, leaning back and even at one point jumping up and when her hand missed she managed to grab it in her mouth. She spat it into her hand and tossed it back. “Are you happy with our reflexes?”

“Getting there.” Tony told her. “Let’s see how well you work with sudden changes.” They set out a row of high heeled shoes of varying heights. “Each circuit you have to put on a different pair. None of them have buckles or anything, just slips ons for now.”

This added further complexity to her balance issues and Nunzio was starting to get bored. “I don’t have much of a part in this,” the cat lady yawned.

“Then start working on ear motion. Forward for interested, back for annoyed or scared, sides for curious.” Tony said. “Then head tosses and work with Arnold to flick out your hair in a convincing way, stroke it, make gestures with hands and face at the same time.”

“Do we have to do the shoes too?”

“Of course. Most women can do more than one thing at a time. Arnold had the hardest place, so he’d better be good.”

This proved the most difficult since Nunzio had to use verbal cues in natural conversation to suggest what he needed Arnold to do. They eventually settled on having a general strategy and if one of the three did something, the others would try their best to keep up. By this point her hair and fur were frizzy and untidy so Tony had them practice advanced coordination with a hairbrush, going from the relatively easy head tips to do her hair to difficult tricks like bending to do her legs. She was coming along nicely, so Tony left her to keep up her walking around, talking and gesturing while he conferred with Giovanni.

“All right,” Tony said at length. “Time for something new.”

The cat lady showed her coordination by stopping, turning to look at him, smiling with her big sharp teeth and bending a little to rest her paws on her knees and get closer to his level. She even bent her knees a little and twitched her tail in anticipation. “I hope it’s something fun!” She said brightly, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“First I think you ought to get dressed.”

“Oh!” She clapped and bounced in place, though she had to fix her balance when the movement of her chest took her by surprise.

“That’s some good perky. How about doing a little sultry while you put these on.”

“I see you like a girl with a little something interesting going on underneath.” She purred when she saw what they were laying out. They gave her a chair and she surprised everyone including the mice inside by sitting normally on the first try, keeping her legs together and angling them underneath her. This was more for the practice of it than anything since she had to get up again once her legs were in the white cotton pantiies with a tiny embroidered fish on the front. She pulled them up slowly, both for the seductive quality and because she wasn’t yet too sure about swiftly straightening up. She used one paw to brush her fur back down after the panties had passed and pulled them up to her crotch, seeing in the mirror rather than feeling how tight they were. They left nothing to the imagination but the color of her vulva, and not even that when Tony told Neil to test squeezing a bulb he’d been told to ignore earlier and they grew damp, the now moist vagina beneath showing clearly through.

“You guys think of everything,” she said. “I bet you had fun with that idea. I see you’re letting the girls-“ Arnold took the cue and she put her paws on her boobs, having to adjust her grip when she almost missed them, “-sit free.”

“We don’t want that cat to have any trouble with hooks.”

“Not to mention us, huh, boss. I mean,” she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “The better to feel what’s coming.”

She stepped into the shiny, stretchy miniskirt, earning a compliment from her head. It clung to her, a crease showing up in the back where it squeezed between her buttocks. She added to that a clingy spandex halter top that showed off her midriff, underboob and pushed her breasts together to produce a generous cleavage.

“Can you still walk all right?” Tony asked.

The cat lady started moving around again. “Fine, but I need to take even smaller steps.”

“That’s fine. It’ll look good when you’re going the full vamp.”

“That’s for sure.” They gave her a pair of the high heels she’d been practicing with and the outfit left her taking tiny, hip swinging steps. “I need to move my tail with – there,” Neil had picked up on Nunzio’s idea and her tail swayed with the rolling gait she’d picked up. She stopped, put her hip out and with almost no delay put a paw on it, holding the other out daintily as she tossed her head and tipped it up. She pulled her shoulders back and approached Tony, bending down to give him a peek at what he’d seen all of already. “Are we ready?”

“Eat me.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a test. Put me in your mouth and swallow me.”

“Uh, okay.” She groped around, having difficulty getting a grip. Tony jumped away. “You have to get me the first time.” When she did, she straightened up and shoved him in her mouth. He went down her throat and she looked down, slightly cross-eyed at her chest. Her right boob was moving up and down. She jumped a little and the two breasts bounced, one going up and falling down further. She grabbed them to keep the one from shaking and Arnold felt Tony moving around inside. The feeling went lower to her belly and around until he jumped out from her butt.

“Good.” Tony said. “If they offer you a mouse, swallow him and make sure he doesn’t give things away.”

“That was weird,” she said, her tail thrashing and her ears pulling back.

“Good reaction. Now off the pads and let’s see if you can still go.”

She stepped daintily down, holding on to the wall for a moment as she got used to a solid surface. The cat lady threw her shoulders back again and looked out confidently as she went to the cat-sized door. It was easy to maintain eye contact and look straight forward when the mouse behind her eyes wasn’t responsible for where she put her feet. Her claws clicked against the knob and she looked back as she opened the door. “Do I look ready?”

“Just a moment.” Tony ran up with a purse. He handed it up and the cat lady slung it over her shoulder. “I know we’re running late, but if you find yourself with a moment, there’s some makeup in there. You don’t need it, but it can’t hurt.”

“Except if I miss my face.” She joked.

“And a little something in case things don’t go to plan.” She looked inside and saw the taser sticking up. “Stick it in a tender spot.”

“I’m sure if things are going badly, I’ll have plenty of choices there. Are we good then, boss?”

Giovanni nodded. “Go get him, tiger.”

She growled and then left, anything Nunzio might have to say lost when her legs took her away.

Night was falling quickly and she hurried along. “I need a name. I think Magda sounds good.” They knew they were being watched by a large team of mice who worked for Giovanni, but in truth they might as well have been alone. When they found the president of the Mousers, they’d have to deal with him themselves until the very end of the plan. Nuzio was very aware of the clicking of her heels on the stones and the occasional pitch and sway as her heel caught on something and the two mice below had to shift her weight to compensate. Still she kept up a swift pace and even – with great care – applied a small amount of eyeshadow and lipstick before slowing to a ‘sexy’ speed at the edge of the area they knew the giant mouse woman would be visiting next. When she heard the sound of another person in heels approaching, all three mice took a deep breath, she checked her stance to make sure she was showing off as best as she could and then she continued with as much swing to her hips and bounce to her bosom as she could produce, brushing her hair so that some of it fell over one almond shaped eye and preparing a pouty expression for when her quarry appeared.

They were not disappointed. The mouse woman had changed to a red cocktail dress - though they were sure she was still commando – matching gloves and a black wig that fell to her mid back. Magda stopped and looked her over once while the mouse woman almost leapt into the air, one of the black lenses falling out as she stared pop-eyed at the long-legged bombshell between her and that night’s dinner. “Wow!” She squeaked.

“Wow indeed.” Magda replied, looking critically at the mouse woman. “If I’d known rodents grew to such sizes here on the continent, I’d have emigrated years ago.”

“No! I mean, I’m not – want to go somewhere for a drink to get to know each other.” The mouse woman stammered.

“Much as I like to play with my food,” Magda said suggestively, licking her lips, “I’m not really into rodents that way. No matter how big.” She unsheathed her claws and waved them in front of her belly. Neil caught on and she took a threatening step towards the mouse woman. Nunzio had to make something up. “Mice are to be tasted, not heard.”

“Really, I’m not.” The mouse woman looked around nervously. “I’m not a mouse.” She whispered. “You’re new in town so you wouldn’t know.” She looked around again and then guiltily tugged at her neck. “I’m a tom cat.” The president explained, still watching out for mice in case he’d have to put the mask back on quickly.

“Do tom cats around here make a habit of dressing like that?” Magda asked. She took another step closer and Arnold decided that meant it was time to step it up. She curiously touched the president’s dress and then hefted once of his breasts.

“Not usually. It’s part of a plan to keep the Pig Piper away. If we take care of some of the mice, the corporation won’t call him.”

“That makes sense,” Nunzio filed that thought away. They didn’t want the Pig Piper either. Magda continued to play with the president’s body, running her paws along his taut belly and squeezing his mouse paw.

“So how about we – uh oh!” The president jammed the mask back on, stuck the lenses in and looked imploringly at Magda with big liquid eyes. “Hide, please!”

Even knowing she was a fake, the imploring look struck a chord with Nunzio. He nodded, relying on the motion of the fur collar to communicate the gesture to Arnold who’d tell Neil. Magda knelt behind a fence, holding on so Arnold wouldn’t slip off of Neil’s shoulders. She peeked out and saw the mouse woman tickling a mouse’s face with her tail. She grabbed him and Magda got back up. “Can I have that one? I haven’t eaten since I got into town.”

“Delighted,” the mouse lady handed him over. Magda crammed the mouse into her mouth and smiled. “Delicious. Speaking of which,” she nibbled on the president’s mask’s rounded ear. “You look pretty yummy yourself. I know a private place we can go.” She started to reach into the president’s skirt, but Neil hadn’t noticed and turned to lead the president away, so again Nunzio had to think fast. “I can barely wait to see what I find beneath all that femininity.”

Inside, Arnold explained the situation to the poor mouse who’d just ended up in a very tight spot and as Magda took the president’s grey furred arm and pressed up close to his mouse girl body, the one she’d eaten stealthily escaped and ran to tell his friends, though he took a moment to hang on to the inside of her skirt and get a good look at the still slightly wet panties and what was obviously beneath.

The president pinched Magda’s rear and when she didn’t react, he started to squeeze and grope, moving up her back. By the time she noticed, the mouse filled cat lady had no choice but to help escalate. They were all happy that their gestalt seductress had convinced the president to keep the disguise on and so they at least had something pleasant to look at as Magda giggled, nuzzled and groped in return. She ground up against him and he got so tight a grip that she had to hold on to a lamppost once Neil pushed away to keep from stumbling down into the street. Nunzio was terrified of an unexpected curb. The president took the opportune stop to push her against the lamppost and get in a kiss. While Nunzio didn’t mind kissing that lovely mouse face, he was finding that the Magda mask was coming loose again. He held on tightly, still trying to concentrate on giving a convincing kiss, but the mask was slowly being pulled off. Luckily the president came up for breath just as Nunzio’s legs began to show and the mask plopped back into place. Nunzio was out of breath, but the other two had caught theirs and she was off and walking again before the mouse suited tom could go in for another kiss.

“So where are we going?” The president asked. Nunzio managed to communicate to Arnold that he needed to make sure her head was on solidly and the president turned as she was tucking the edge into the collar of long fur around her shoulders.

“I told you. Somewhere very private.” Magda said, brushing her hair and pretending nothing was wrong while her legs kept going without any hint of mirroring gestures like what she was doing above.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked the big black mouse eyes on her costume peering at Magda’s neck.

“No, silly!” Magda giggled and her legs kept taking her along despite Nunzio wishing they could stop to reassure the doubtful looking giant mouse who was beginning to slow down. “You just messed up my fur is all.”

“I thought I saw-“

Finally Arnold kicked Neil hard enough to stop them and Magda played with the president’s mouse tail. “Nothing is wrong.” She put the tail in her mouth and began to lick it. “Maybe you need more convincing.” She reached under the president’s skirt and into the mouse woman’s vagina. For once nothing went wrong and she pulled out his cat part without crushing it. The mouse woman was breathing hard as Magda stroked the penis and then turned, keeping a grip on it as she led him by the small parts where she needed to go.

“It looks like we’re going further into mouse territory.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got that on so you can get us through any problems.” Magda teased, tweaking the penis. “Though this would be hard to explain.” She pushed it back into the skirt and the president winced, taking over hiding his maleness rather than risk her injuring it.
“Not that a pair of deadly predators like us need to worry. Especially you,” she bit his neck.

“Don’t hurt the costume,” he warned her.

She purred. “Then we’d better get it off of you soon.” Nunzio hoped that the hard-on the Mouser president had was as uncomfortable as it looked, remaining completely hidden despite Magda’s actions. The mice had no such problem; there was plenty of space in the suit and despite themselves they were getting hot in more ways than one.

“This looks like it belongs to the Syndicate.” The president said doubtfully as Magda opened the door of the warehouse she’d recently left.

“Don’t worry. They never come here,” she said. Luckily her quiet, sensual promising tone had erased from his mind the fact that she was supposed to be new in town. “Look how comfortable it is,” she pointed to the mattress covered floor. “Besides, what’s a few mice to you?” She playfully twined her tail around his and tugged at his mouse nose. “With this face, you could talk your way out and when their guard is down,” she snapped her jaws loudly and grinned. “A mouse dinner.”

She’d said the right things and the president scooped her up in his arms to carry her to the mattresses. Unfortunately despite a heroic attempt by Arnold to use his legs to try to straighten up, the cat lady didn’t have the musculature to bend upwards in his grip and instead flopped limp in his arms. Arnold thought fast and when the cat lady put her arm to her brow, Nunzio caught on quickly enough that the pause was only a little awkward before she said, “You’re so strong.” Neil wasn’t sure what was happening and kicked her legs by instinct. The president thought that meant she wanted to be put down and he set her on her feet on the mattress. She lost her balance, bending forward uncontrollably as Arnold lost his seat and ending up with her rear high in the air and her head bent back to look up at the president. She smiled reassuringly and winked. “Sorry, I couldn’t help wanting another peek.”

The president lifted the cocktail dress’s skirt and reached inside the mouse vagina until he found his grip and pulled out his still very erect cathood. As he pulled the mask off, Magda got to her knees and crawled over to him. When she put her arms around him, Nunzio had no choice but to open her mouth and start licking. Arnold and Neil had done well to maneuver him into doing the hard – and disgusting work. Luckily for him, the president was only enjoying himself while he unzipped the costume, letting it fall around his hips before gently pushing Magda away and wiggling the rest of the way out. Though the arm mechanisms gave her a normal cat’s strength, she had no leverage and so could only mew encouragement and praise as she remained on paws and knees and allowed him to pad around and thrust his way inside her. Neil had squeezed the bulb and the tom cat took a long sniff of her underwear before pulling them down to her ankles.

Nunzio now had little to do but gasp, coo and moan convincingly while Arnold kept Magda balanced and Neil pushed back against the president. One very hard shove sent Magda’s chest to the floor and Arnold couldn’t get her back up before the next knocked her again. Nunzio felt close to being catapulted through her mouth and wouldn’t that be a sight! The cat had stamina and showed no sign of slowing down after a remarkable length of time. They should have expected that after what they’d seen before. There was also no sign of the rest of the plan coming together. Nunzio had a vision of being carried unable to resist back to the Mouser hall, or one of the others getting heatstroke and having the whole feline seductress go limp. Or worse the force of the president slipping one mouse above the other and having her compact into herself. They needed a distraction and when Nunzio saw Tony watching and making no sign that he was doing more than enjoying the view, she said, “Oh, a snack!”

The president looked up and saw Tony. “I could use some food.”

Magda looked over her shoulder and bit her lip. “Please can I have this one more?”

The president shrugged. “All right, then I’ll give you something else to swallow.” So much for a lucky escape, thought Nunzio. She sprang at Tony, who was forced to let her catch him and swallow him in one gulp. “You really are hungry the way you bolt them down.” The president said, impressed.

Magda put a dainty tawny paw to her mouth and burped in a ladylike way. “I am.”

Tony was less stealthy than the other mouse and she had to start pretending to pleasure herself, one paw on her boob and the other between her legs. “I’m ready to start again if you are. Here.” It took a long moment for Arnold to catch on, but the president was faster and soon his cat member was between Magda’s breasts and was being rubbed as she squeezed them. Nunzio enjoyed the thought of Tony being jostled and squeezed inside and increased the volume and frequency of Magda’s exhalations to spur Arnold to make it even harder on Tony. She finally pulled the president down on top of her in something that was as much a bite as a kiss and heaved an attractive sigh of relief when a net fell over both of them. “Oh!” She cried pitifully. “What’s going on?” Her ‘helpless’ act ended abruptly when Giovanni personally brought a sandbag down on the president’s head.

Magda pushed him off and rolled over, smiling brightly at Giovanni. “Good, boss?”

“Wonderful.”

Magda got up and Nunzio whispered something. She started getting dressed, paying less attention to the little things like how her arms and legs moved in obviously independent ways or how she didn’t even look at what she was putting on. “Well then, boss, we have an idea to make even more money. But first what do we do with him?” She jerked her head at the president.

“I say we throw him in the Weser.” Tony said grumpily, falling to the floor in a thoroughly disheveled state.

“Is it right to be doing that? Cats kill mice, not the other way around. It’s not natural.” Giovanni said.

“We could stick him back in the costume and let all the mice in Bad Münder have their way.”

“No, we want that.” Magda said, now fully clothed and lounging in the chair they’d brought in. She winked and crossed her legs. “It’s a good idea, boss.”

“Ransom.” Giovanni said. “We don’t tell them how we know or what we did. Just tie him up and force them to do was we say. They can all try their luck somewhere else or with the birds for all I care, but they won’t hunt another rodent if they want their man back in one piece.” He nodded to some big mice who started tying the cat up. “Now, what’s this idea you three have that’s going to make me money?”

A very long, gray leg extended from stage left and when the first mouse whistled, the mouse woman strutted across the stage and down to the edge, her tight leather short shorts well squeaking slightly and shining in the spotlight. She took off her leather wrap around top and threw it to the only mouse brave enough to take the front row. The show she was putting on was well known for what happened to mice in front and most just wanted to watch as she bent and flicked her tail fluff around to reward him for his guts with a tickle. Her long blonde hair flashed around her as she turned leaned against one of the poles, her bottom half already rubbing up and down against it. None of the mice minded when she held on and her bottom half kept gyrating as if it were still in contact as she rubbed her top half on the pole, nor how she spun away from it just as she had her tongue out to lick. She giggled at how ‘clumsy’ she was and playfully swatted her bottom for breaking it off with the pole so soon. Her legs returned her to it and she showed how coordinated she could be by wrapping her arms around, and without looking climbing up, swinging around so that it ran between her leather clad cheeks on the way down. She put a pink digit into the waistband and slowly worked the leather bottom down until she kicked it into the audience. Undressed, she took the microphone, dancing and swaying as she went back to the pole, a second one rising up next to her. As her bottom half ground against it, her top half and head faced the audience, acting as if her rear and legs were doing the same. She spoke in a breathy voice.
“It’s not easy being me.” She said. Her bottom continued its dance as her hands spread to the audience in a plea for sympathy. “Look at me.” Her hands went to the pole across from her and began running up and down it and pressing it between her boobs in a completely different cadence to the motion of her rear while she continued to face the audience, speaking to them with no apparent awareness of what the rest of her body was doing. “Where does a girl like me fit in to society? I’m just so big and where can I find a mouse to satisfy me? I guess what I’m asking is not so much where do I fit into society but,” she smiled, “who in society will fit in me?”
“You know, I have a little secret and it makes me feel so,” she licked her lips, “deliciously naughty.” She left the pole, her body now back in a semblance of synchronicity and sat. She did a split to show off her perfect body. “Could you guess it? I’ll give you a hint. It makes you seem delicious too. Do you want to get inside me? You’d fit. Too bad because,” she pulled at her neck and removed the mouse mask, revealing Magda, “I already have someone there.” She purred in a deeper, more seductive voice. She got up, having to get to her hands and knees first. She put her fingers in her mouth. “I’m so tasty.” Her bottom half had forgotten that part and was gyrating as if she was taking the costume off. Catching up she removed the rest of the mouse suit and kicked it aside, fluffing out the black and red music hall dress she’d been wearing under the mouse suit and tossing her head to better arrange the long brown tresses.

She put on a pair of high heeled boots that had been waiting and gave a high kick, yelping as she almost fell over backwards. Winking and shaking her hips she said, “You know, this makes me so hot! And when I’m hot!, I’m hungry.” She bent, her breasts brushing the mouse in front. “You’ll do.” She picked him up and cradled him to her chest, letting him rub his face in her fluffy collar and down her top before lifting him into the air, smiling at the audience and dropping him into her open mouth. She grinned and said, “You know, these things go right to my-“ as if on cue, her right breast bounced. “There. So, does anyone want to make a matching pair of jigglers? No?” She swished her skirt. “Then let’s get on with the show.” She sang, danced, and laughed with the audience when the mouse inside finally fell out of her skirts. “Now who did I go to bed with to get this cute little guy?” She cooed, picking him up again and putting him down her top so his head stuck out from between her boobs. “I guess he can’t stay there.” She lamented. “Though maybe.” The top had an elastic band, letting her shimmy out of the whole dress while pressing her chest to keep the mouse in place. “Someone can think of somewhere else for him to go?” He hung on as she put her hand on her hip and put a delicate claw where the audience was already calling for her to put him. “If you think so, folks.”

The mouse was all too glad to explore her vaginal cavity and she giggled and lowered her eyelids in appreciation, pretending she could feel anything there. “My new friend and I need some time alone to get to know each other.” She blew the audience a kiss and left, hips and tail swaying as the applause came. She returned to the stage with a shy smile and the mouse on her shoulder. He jumped down as she bowed, her head falling to the floor with Nunzio’s legs sticking out and kicking. Her body bent in half and her paws went searching – apparently blindly for her head – which tipped over and then went running on mouse legs towards her. As she started to straighten up, her head ran up her arm and settled back down on her shoulders in time to blow another kiss and take a real bow this time. She brushed her hair back, tucked her mask back into the convenient fur collar and with a final wave went backstage.

“How much in tips tonight, boss?” She asked Giovanni, sitting on the only chair they had sized for her and crossing her legs.

“More than last night which was more than the night before.” He answered. “At this rate we’ll be the richest mice in Europe.”

Magda put her paws on her knees and smiled with delight, her ears forward. “That’s great!” She frowned. “What about the corporation calling in the Pig Piper?”

“Tony says he knows a guy who heard something about that.” Giovanni said. “I’ll be seeing the rat tomorrow.”

“Can I come?” Magda asked.

“Of course, but please not as a cat. No matter how alluring you are, you’ll just alarm him. Though if we need him to talk, I’m sure a trip down your throat will loosen his tongue.”

“Just give the word,” Magda purred. “I love a good squealer.”

“Let’s go over the particulars,” Giovanni said, meeting with Nunzio after the interview with the rat. “Our friend lives in the walls of an apartment belonging to a skunk lady.”

“Yeah, boss.”

“This skunk is in the political office of a badger who is dead against the Pig Piper and says the cats and terriers and so on are doing a good job.” Giovanni puffed his cigar. “Although our contributions to her campaign help.”

“Right, boss.”

“So on the other side, we’ve got this otter who wants to bring in the Piper. The skunk has an idea to give him bad press and I think I can come up with something to do some good for our girl. How do you feel about Magda going over to this skunk lady – he looked at his notes – Doris’s place to help out?”

“No problem, boss.”

“She’s got a daughter called Thea. Nice looking girl. I think Magda needs a kid too. When you go over, you’ll have one so Thea can play with someone while you two talk business. It’ll keep her out of our hair and maybe plays into our plan even more.”

Doris laid out the gray furred garment on her bed and couldn’t help but giggle. Working for a corporation candidate was never a dull job and this would be fun! She didn’t know where her boss had gotten the idea, but it was a good one. She picked it up and put her black paw into the larger gray one, enjoying how it squeezed as she pulled it up and put her arms in. Her big skunk tail was compressed into the shaggy, curved one of the costume she’d been sent and she laughed at how her small black and white paws were turned into big, clawed gray ones. The claws were pink, of course. She was still a woman no matter what species. She pulled the zipper up and admired her wolf body in the mirror. It was a nice change to be trim and lethal looking. “Thea!” She called. She didn’t want to scare her daughter by appearing as a full wolf in the house.

“Yes, mommy.” Thea toddled in and looked up at her slimmed, wolf bodied mother. “You look good, mommy.”

“Thanks, honey!” She laughed.

“You always look good, but now you look all tough like that lady on TV who helps fight crime.” Thea climbed onto the bed. “Your face doesn’t match,” she said at last.

Doris picked up the wolf mask with its long blonde hair, long muzzle and big teeth. “Do I need to wear this?”

“Uh-huh!” Thea nodded.

“Promise not to be scared when mommy puts it on?”

Thea shook her head. “I won’t. I know it’s you.”

Doris stretched the mask over her face, smoothing the hair down and making sure it melded with her gray furred body. “So?”

“You look awesome, mommy!” Thea said. She hugged her mom, now fully a wolf. “You could go out and take down bad guys.”

Doris looked at the trim predator in the mirror and opened her mouth in an imitation of a canine pant. “Thanks, honey.” She thought she looked good herself and wondered what else she could do in this outfit. She knelt. “How would you like to be a tough little wolf yourself?”

“I’d love it, mommy!”

“Then let mommy get ready and you can have a costume like this too. Now go and play.” Thea skipped out and Doris looked back at herself. “Though what I need right now is something to wear.” She’d furtively shopped at a predator store to get herself some underwear and a dress to fit her new look. The dress was simple as befitted a single mom, purple with a long loose skirt. The doorbell rang. The people from the office she’d been expecting. She took the mask off and went to the door.

“I can’t believe Giovanni made me wear this,” Tony griped, pinching his pink frilly skirt in gray and black striped paws. His long gray and black tail thrashed behind him. It was so long in fact that they’d had to put supports in it to keep it from trailing on the ground behind him.

“Put your mask back on and use your girl voice,” Magda told him.

“Sorry, mom.” ‘Eve’ said in the high pitched, slightly echoey voice of a little girl. She put on the cat mask and brushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes as she looked up at Magda. “Better?”

“Yes, honey. Now shush while mommy talks to this lady.” Thankfully Doris had been a long time answering the door. It would have been unfortunate if she’d opened up while Tony was getting his disguise on. Nunzio hoped he’d not break character again.

“Magda! And this must be Eve.” Doris said. “Excuse the … uh.” She blushed. “I wanted to get my kit on early. Thea hasn’t gotten hers yet, but she’s a quick dresser and she really wants to do it.”

“That’s great.” Magda looked down at Eve. “Go play with Thea, dear, and let mommy talk to Miss Doris.”

“All right.” Eve skipped in and sat down with Thea. The little skunk girl seemed content to play with the kitten and that left the cat and skunk to sit down together.

“I’m looking forward to today.” Doris admitted. “I must seem weird to you.”

“Not hardly,” Magda said, only barely sweeping her skirt before sitting down. The only thing that had saved them was Neil feeling Arnold’s paw under his bum. “You want to help our woman win and you’ll do what you have to.” She winked. “I bet it’s fun being a sleek predator girl for a change. I wouldn’t mind trying the skunk life for a day myself.”

“I’m so glad you understand.” Doris put her paw on Magda’s. “So you’ll do to our candidate’s rally and I’ll deal with the opposition? You know what to do?”

“Uh-huh.” Magda grinned. “It’ll be a lot of fun.”

“I’m with you there, sister.” Doris got up. “I’d better get Thea dressed. Thea!” The todder came up to them. “Do you want to put your wolf costume on now?”

“Yeah!” Thea cheered. Doris took Thea to her bedroom. She helped the little skunk girl into the overlarge feet and pulled it up, checking under her tail to make sure that the hole beneath was large enough. The similarly large and padded paws went on and Thea insisted on zipping the costume up herself and putting the mask on. Doris put her in a velvet dress with plenty of room for her new tail to move freely and carried her out of the bedroom in her arms.

“Rawr!” Thea half growled half shouted.

“You make a great little wolf.” Magda said, petting her head.

“I was scared.” Eve agreed. She looked up at Magda and put out her arms. “Pick me up too, mommy!” Only Magda could see the mischief in her eye. Magda almost folded in half picking her up and her knees knocked. She could barely stand up straight after that, Arnold having to stealthily grab at a chair. A mouse was one thing, but one in a heavily padded kitten suit was another. She put her daughter down. “Aww.” Eve said.

“You’re a big girl,” Magda told her. “You can walk on your own.” She took her daughter’s hand and they left the apartment with Doris.

They parted ways down the street and Doris smiled at how well she and the cat had gotten along. She’d never been so friendly with a pure carnivore before. They had a fun, elegant quality to them. Maybe she’d keep the wolf suit and hang out with more. The rally was in full swing when she arrived and she and her daughter stood in line to meet the opposing candidate. “You know what to do, honey?” She asked Thea yet again.

“Yes, mommy.” Thea’s tail twitched in anticipation, looking as if she was wagging it with the happiness her face reflected. Doris made a note to start doing the same. A wolf who didn’t express all her emotions in her tail was an oddball. She slowly waved hers back and forth.

“And no telling people we’re skunks. What are we?”

“Wolves! Rawr!”

“Good girl.” They reached the front and the otter picked Thea up. “What a cute little – argh!” He said as Thea lifted her fake wolf tail and let loose with her youthful but still potent scent.

“What did you do to my daughter?” Doris screeched. “What’s that smell?” She snatched Thea away and marched off, suppressing a grin and a cheer at the image in her mind of tomorrow’s paper showing the candidate looking disgusted at a cherubic little wolf pup and then at the outraged mother taking her away. She ducked the press questions and escaped unseen in the crowd. On their way back, she said, “You did really well, honey.’

“Thanks, mommy. That was fun. But what about the poor man?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. How about we go for ice cream to celebrate?” Doris wagged her tail, still wanting to stay in character as a wolf while they were out in public.

“Yay!”

“But we’d better get that costume off first. We don’t want it sticky.”

“I’d rather have the costume than ice cream.” Thea said.

“I know how you feel. You can keep it, though. Just so it isn’t sticky.”

“OK, mommy.”

At the landing before their floor, Doris saw Marge and her son Hugh. “Doesn’t that boy bully you at preschool?”

“Yeah, mommy.”

“And that cow’s always so snooty.” Doris felt her sharp wolf teeth and bared them in a grin. “How about we give them a little scare to get back?”

“That’d be fun!” Thea giggled and Doris shushed her. They padded up behind the two as Marge was locking the door and Doris growled, “Going somewhere?”

At the same time, Thea outright jumped on Hugh and knocked him down. “I hear tell you’re the tough guy in this building!” She said. “Well, I’m tougher and if I see you messing with anyone around here, I’ll show you!”

“Tell that horrible child to get off of my Hugh.” Marge said shrilly.

“Or what?” Doris asked. “Maybe he deserves it. I just moved here a week ago, but I’ve seen you acting pretty high and mighty for prey. The same goes for him.” She licked her lips. “I could go for some beef. I hear that putting on airs improves the taste.”

Hugh squirmed out from under Thea and ran down the stairs. Thea knew not to leave her mother, so she let him go. Marge followed, looking over her shoulder at Doris, who waved. “Nice to meet you, neighbor. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine as long as you know your place.”

The two skunks retrained themselves until they were inside, then fell to the floor. Doris grabbed Thea and rolled around with her, tickling her belly. “So was that fun?”

“Really fun! He won’t bother me anymore or –“ she made an attempt at a growl “- my new wolf friend will get him!”

“All right, honey. Do you want ice cream or to stay in the costume?”

“Ice cream!”

“Then put that away nice and neat while mommy takes hers off.” Thea ran to her room, still growling and pretending to bite at things. Doris took a last look at her wolf self. She did a little strip tease for herself – not too long because her daughter was already running around the house in her normal clothes – and put it away, thinking about what she might do as a wolf later on.

Eve skipped down the street, her dress floating around her feet. She turned and called, “Mommy, come on or we’ll miss it!”

“Coming, dear.” Inside the two lower mice were grumbling. Magda was meant to be seen and not rushed. It was hard enough putting one foot in front of the other and watching for cracks without having a troublesome, rambunctious fake daughter to pretend to look after and keep up with. Finally she lost her patience and Nunzio caught what she meant immediately when Arnold put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are to come back here and hold mommy’s hand!”

“Aww, mom!” But Eve skipped back and held Magda’s hand the rest of the way, though Nunzio was sure that she was looking up as often as she could to watch her mother’s bosom lift and fall with each step. She had to look professional so she’d worn heels and all three inside wished she hadn’t. A stray breeze lifted her skirt and she was sure that half the men on the street had seen her black lace panties before she looked down, Nunzio kicked Arnold and she put her hands on her skirt. Eve pretended not to be looking but Nunzio knew she was.

She confirmed his suspicions when she said, “Mommy, when can I wear pretty panties.”

“When you’re older, dear.”

“How much older.”

“You’ll know when you’re older.”

“How much-“

“Honey! Not now.”

“When-“ Tony had gotten enough of a rise. Magda scooped Eve up, having to put her paw on a wall to steady herself. When she was secure, she held her daughter up to her face. “Not not, honey.” She said firmly, and again almost fell to pieces setting her down. Many more like that and everyone would be able to tell something was up.

Eve kept quiet, but looked smug as they entered the badger’s rally. Luckily they’d come in time for the prearranged signal. “And,” the badger was saying, “why do we need some foreign piebald with magic pipe and costume piebald? Are our cats not brilliant at the catch and none can be found to be their match. Look upon the hunters here and think of treasure we’d pay so dear, to have a piper blow and send rats hence, then call on us for too much recompense.”

At that moment one of Giovanni’s mice ran through the legs of the onlookers, brushing them intentionally to draw their gaze. People started to call that there were mice even in the rally but before they could laugh at the badger’s misfortune, Eve called, “Mommy! Mommy! A mouse!” And pounced at the perfect moment to make it look natural when she caught him. She shoved him in her mouth and swallowed him, looking happily around despite her now somewhat distended belly.

“Good girl!” Magda was forced at that point to pick her up since Tony wasn’t going anywhere fast in the kitten suit now it had two mice inside. She pet Eve’s head and smiled for the cameras. “I’d better take my girl home to bed now. She’s had a big meal.” Everyone laughed and the badger’s reputation was doubled by the opportune show of how even a kitten barely out of her mother’s arms could catch mice. She walked unsteadily out of the building, shrugging off queries about whether she was feeling all right. It was agony even for Nunzio since he had to help navigate after Neil started seeing stars. Magda was finally able to find a secluded spot to put Eve down. Her kitten waddled a few steps and then disgorged the mouse.

“Did I do good?” He asked.

“Great.” Tony said.

“Eve!” Magda remonstrated.

“There’s no one around. Mommy.”

“Ew. Use your girl voice when you call me that.” Magda said, disgusted.

Eve skipped over to her. “That was fun, mommy!” She said.

They got back to Doris’ apartment to find the skunks both changed and eating ice cream. Eve complained, but Magda told her to shush and the two exchanged stories. “All in all, a good day for our party.” Doris said.

“Call again if you ever need help. It was a blast,” Magda replied. On their way down the stairs – Eve holding Magda’s paw tightly and Magda’s other paw clutching the railing – Eve said, “This outfit would make a great way to get in on what the cats are up to. You know, to make sure they keep their end.”

“Are you saying you like being a kitten?”

“Let’s just say that I think it’d be fun to tweak a couple of tom kittens and a stripper needs to go out with her family and meet a nice man sometime.”

“I hate to say it, but the boss might agree.” Magda said.

“Mommy, if you meet a nice man, will you marry him?” Eve asked.

“Maybe, honey. If he’s the right one.”

Doris stood, admiring how the wolf costume turned her fluff and roundness into straight lines. She felt powerful in this body. She felt beautiful. She was a pretty skunk, but a strong and dangerous wolf. She slipped on the mask and followed with a long, sleeveless black dress with embroidered wolves in mid leap. She slid a pair of black elastic sleeves up her arms, leaving them bare from shoulder to halfway to her elbow and from halfway from elbow to wrist. A pair of black boots with shiny metal buckles followed, and finally a pewter necklace. She’d never been one of the dark and cool looking girls in school and it felt good to do it now. The predators were the in crowd and even if she’d never been one, she knew how to dress the part. It made her heart pound to look at herself and see a woman who belonged in these clothes. A wolf woman with lambent yellow eyes, sharp white teeth and the look like she could run down a deer in full flight. She snarled and tipped her lengthened muzzle back in a silent howl of delight.

She stuck her head in to Thea’s bedroom. The little skunk kit was snuggled up to the wolf suit, which Doris had put a squishy stuffed mannequin into so that her daughter could use it as a plushie when she wasn’t wearing the costume. Her muzzle was buried so deep in the fur that it was invisible. Doris padded out, feeling even more like a predator as she silently left the apartment and went to the nearest predator bar. Her euphoria grew as she wasn’t even sitting before someone bought her a drink.

“I haven’t seen you before,” the wolf said. “I’m Dirk.”

“Do – Dorthinia.” Doris said. “I’m new around here.”

“I can tell. You’re not with any pack.” Dirk sat down next to her. “Why don’t you join me and my friends.” A group of wolves at a pool table waved.

“You seem nice, but I don’t want to pick a pack so early.” Doris demurred.

“Who said anything about pack picking. We’re just here for fun. If you want run for a night or two, that’s fine with us.”

Doris joined them, feeling warm and remembering just in time to wag her tail as the introductions were made. It was amazing to just belong. To stand and laugh easily at inside jokes. To feel no awkwardness when Dirk led her a little way away and to know that none of the others would even bat an eyelash when he put his arm around her. When she pressed him against the wall and their muzzles mingled. She thought of Thea and pulled back, squeezing Dirk’s paw gently. “I only came for a quick drink. My daughter’s at home and I don’t have a sitter.”

“That’s fine.” Dirk said. Doris wanted to kiss him again. Belonging and not being judged was so new and wonderful. She forced herself to say her regretful goodbyes and dashed back to her apartment, aware more than usual of the night air and how it made her fur stream in the wind. She took the mask off in her room and kissed the nose. Next time she’d have someone to watch Thea. But what would they think when a skunk woman left as a wolf? She smiled a secret smile. Thea wouldn’t mind playing a little trick and fooling the sitter into thinking she was a wolf cub. Doris was sure she would even love to sleep in the costume and growl if she felt like people weren’t taking her seriously. No, Doris thought, Thea wouldn’t mind at all and Doris wouldn’t mind stepping out in a wolf costume and running with a pack again.

Second Chances at the Brilliant Basilisk

So, about being retired ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBTRp80Q64U

Vince was cold, miserable, and regretting all of his decisions of the past six months. It was becoming painfully and frigidly clear to him that he was not a survivalist, and his growing hatred of all things outdoors was made all the sharper by the fact that he had no way of getting indoors. He cursed the mad impulse that had led him to quit his job, sell all his possessions, and move out into the wilderness to ‘live off the land.’ He’d thought it was idyllic for the first two months, and then a flash flood had swept away his poorly constructed cabin along with all his gear – including all the books that might have told him what to do in the situation. He’d laughed when the rangers had towed his car and continued laughing even as he threw the keys into the river. What did he need a car for when he wasn’t going anywhere?

Now here he was in the late autumn. Cold, starving, homeless, and stuck in the middle of a state forest with his choice of going to prison for illegally squatting on state land, freezing to death, or starving to death in the next month. He’d found a cave, but it wasn’t very warm and he couldn’t have more than a few embers going for fear of the rangers finding him. He’d gathered together moss in the warm times and dried them out, which gave him a sort of soft bed. His clothes were tattered, his knife dull, and as he stared vacantly out of the cave entrance, he was coming to terms with the fact that even if he wanted to turn himself over to the rangers it was too late. None of the cars on the highway had even slowed down when he tried to hitchhike, there wasn’t a campsite for miles, and not many people camped at this time of year anyway. No one in the nearby town was a camping enthusiast and it was well past the season for tourists. The nearest ranger was up the mountain in a fire tower and Vince didn’t think he had the energy left to climb up all that way. He wasn’t even sure he could make it to the road anymore without freezing or running out of energy.

He wished he were a lizard. A lizard could slow his metabolism down in this weather and sleep through winter until food came again. Then again, if he were a lizard he probably wouldn’t be in the mess at all because he’d have lived in the forest his entire life and be totally immune from the lifestyle worries and existential angst that leads a perfectly respectable railway conductor to sell everything and move into an illegal mountain retreat.

The only good thing that had happened to him was discovering the creek near his cave. He’d taken his canteen with him on the walk that had left him taking shelter for the night and returning to find his cabin gone. There were a lot of things he could die of, Vince reflected morosely, but at least he wasn’t going to die of thirst. Sighing, he got up and trudged down the path to the creek for his evening water supply. His feet were numb and he couldn’t feel his ears, but there were some roots he might recognize, and he was getting hungry enough to find out by the taste test whether those little wrinkled pointy mushrooms were edible. He’d set some traps, but after two weeks of waiting, he’d concluded that he’d done something wrong, so there was no chance of meat in the near future.

The winding path overlooked a dell as it wended down the hills to the creek, and a strange sound intruded into Vince’s reverie of self-pity. Laughter? He braced himself against a jutting tree that was almost bereft of leaves already and peered down, expecting to see nothing and confirm that the leaves he’d ingested that morning were making him hallucinate sounds. The sight that met him made him think that they were very powerful hallucinations at that.

Two giant red foxes were locked in a wrestling match in the middle of an otherwise normal looking campsite. Despite the strange appearance of the occupants, Vince was still drawn more to the meat roasting slowly on a grilling tray in the center of the camp, and on the coolers likely filled with vegetables, fruit, and everything else he’d not had since the last berries fell. The foxes disengaged and one went running off on her – yes, definitely her – back legs. The feminine shape was obvious – and quite pronounced, as well as the back-length brunette hair. She turned in Vince’s direction and quite human looking black nipples stood out on her large, pale red furred breasts. Her partner stood up and he too had some obviously human parts as well. He chased her around the camp and they collapsed again, this time in such a way that Vince could see where their front paws – hands? – were going.

The female nuzzled the male’s chest and he cupped her buttocks, rolling over and pulling her into position to straddle and then sink onto the shaft that was poking out of the furred sheath between his legs. Their giggles, cries, and moans were audible to Vince all the way up on his voyeuristic vantage point. He may have been a failed survivalist, but he had learned something from the books, videos, and living out here. His footfalls were silent and his step sure as with renewed energy he crept directly down the hillside, always keeping to the brush and behind trees when he could, and freezing in place whenever the couple might be looking in his direction. Better to be an unmoving oddity in the open than risk being spotted by his motion as he darted towards cover.

He couldn’t help but be aroused as the vixen’s muzzle covered her partner’s crotch completely. The reynard grunted deep in his throat, and then sat up. “Cinna, do stop that! You know I can’t reciprocate and I feel bad.”

“Don’t, honey.” The vixen cooed in a deep, honeyed voice, clear and audible despite her muzzle being filled with her partner. “I want to do this. Besides, you can do just as well with your claw as I can with this snoot.”

The reynard rotated expertly on the axis of his cock and started pleasuring the vixen with his paw. This continued for long enough to allow Vince to make his way with utmost stealth to the very edge of the firelight, crouching behind a shrub. His own sex, dormant for days because of the lack of sustenance, was stirring and his breathing becoming ragged as he watched the foxes mate, play, and make love.

“Oh, look!” Vince’s blood ran colder, but he then saw that the vixen was pointing inward towards the fire. “I think the sausage is done.” Vince’s nose and rumbling belly confirmed.

“Don’t want to get our paws dirty,” the reynard said. He reached towards his wrist but the vixen put her paw on it.

“I’ll take care of it. I need some breathing space and I know you love to watch me work.” Vince was less surprised than he might have been when she took the mask off, letting it hang by its fur from her back. The foxes’ muzzles hadn’t moved when they spoke, and as he got closer, he suspected that rather than very vivid visions brought on by accidentally eating the wrong mushroom that the creatures were elaborate costumes. The woman shook out long flaxen tresses that bounced and shone in the firelight, then reached to her neck and pulled down a zipper so tiny that Vince hadn’t been able to see it before she started to open the track. She was naked underneath the fur, and he envied how she seemed totally unaffected by the chill air. Her skin was creamy and unblemished, her perfect curves as luscious out of the costume as in it.

She moved with conscious sensuality, swinging her hips and walking with a tiny more bounce than she needed to, setting those curves to motion. Both Vince and the reynard’s eyes were glued to her jiggling breasts and swinging bottom, and both had their hands on their erections. “They are very greasy, aren’t they?” She said innocently, taking each link off and putting them in a tin tray. “I might end up with it all over me, and then you’ll have to get out of your suit after all so you can lick if off.” The moment was broken as she tried to deep throat a red-hot sausage and yelped at the heat of it hitting her tongue. Her partner was next to her in a moment.

“Are you OK, Ellie? Are you sure you don’t want to put Cinnamon back on and let me do it?”

“Oh, yeah,” she laughed and motioned for the fox to stay away. “After all this, I don’t want you to get all gunked up. I’m fine.”

Vince had seen the opportunity of both of them being away. Those fox costumes looked very warm, and though he might have preferred it if the male had gone to take the food off the fire as he originally planned, he wasn’t going to be picky about how he’d avoid freezing. Moving with a swiftness and surety born of desperation and what little woodlore he possessed, Vince reached through the shrub and snatched the costume from the chair she’d laid it on. The lovers were so engrossed in one another that neither noticed the theft at first, and Vince was away back up the hill, listening carefully and hearing no sound of alarm.

Vince was breathing heavily when he got back to his cave. He couldn’t believe that with all that food on offer he’d decided to steal a fur costume instead. It had just been sitting here, and he’d been transfixed not just by how exotic it was, but by its beauty when the woman had been wearing it. Aware of how cold he remained, there was no question or hesitation as he stripped down. He looked at the blue eyes under seductive heavy lids, and decided that he’d try not to dirty the costume too much. Casting about for a reason other than his strange fixation, he decided that he might be wearing this thing all winter and he didn’t want it getting scratchy. He sponged himself off with what was left of his water – he’d need to get more since he hadn’t made it to the creek – and one of the blobs of dry moss used as a sponge.

Without any further excuse for delay, he stepped into the white toed foot, which was otherwise black, the dark fur reaching up to mid-thigh in a simulation of sheer black stockings. Those stockings rose up his legs and soon he was tugging the red fur of the hips over his own. There were wide gaps there on the inside, which wouldn’t do. One thing Vince was sure of was that air gaps in a thermally insulating layer meant that it wouldn’t be as warm. He stuffed some of the moss from his bed into the suit around his hips and butt, filling it out until the suit was as shapely down there as it had been before. It wasn’t about sex appeal, he insisted to himself, just that it had been sized for a curvaceous woman and he needed to make sure it fit him just as well or it wouldn’t be warm … and it might chafe … or something.

Being slimmed down by lack of food often worked in Vince’s favor and he was thanking it once more here. It had worked in his favor in the early days when hiding from large game and predators during the brief time he’d had the tools to hunt, and it was paying off again in letting him fit into this life saving fur coat. Lucky for him that the vixen’s luscious curves were generous enough to give her a frame that his average sized male bones could fit into. The balance he’d developed from walking along the hills and cliffs, too, were well appreciated as the foot paws pushed his feet into a slope as if he were walking on invisible high heeled shoes. The hand paws were done up like black fingerless gloves, with tiny claws at the end of each. These hooked easily into the zipper tab, and again Vince was faced with the pernicious gap. This time, a much larger one where overflowing double handfuls of boob would be. The big, fluffy, soft tail swung from his hips now, long enough to reach all the way to his head if flipped in the opposite direction. After all, he thought as he shoved all his remaining bedding into the suit, he could lie on the tail and it would be just as good a pillow, and the rest of the suit was soft enough to be an even better bed. Cupping his newly minted vegetable pair, he giggled and tried for a girlish moan at pinching the soft rubber nipples that had once covered the real thing.

Again feeling somewhat guilty at enjoying his plumped up feminine charms, he pulled the zipper the rest of the way and then grasped the neck fur of the mask. There was some tiny sop to the fact that it would ward off frostbite of the nose and ears, keep in the suit’s heat, yadda yadda, but he accepted he was just enjoying the illusion now. He probably looked terrible in this suit, but he’d feel good and no one else was going to see him anyway. The head sat on top of his for a moment and then with a firm pressure to hair fluff between tall pointed ears the vixen head slid over his own and he was looking through those inviting, smoldering eyes. The only cool thing left was the whisper of air passing over the squishy rubber tongue and past the small, pointed teeth inside the muzzle to play almost daintily on his delightfully warm face.

Another cool thing intruded, and he opened his eyes, slipping away from the hot haze of the vixen suit. His paws brushed down the pale red belly and chest fur that outlined the vixen’s shape, ending in a rounded v that pointed at the offending cold spot. The crotch was smoothly profiled, meant to cradle and provide access to female lips and folds. Instead, a hairless human penis protruded from the fur covered molded lips. At that point Vince could have put his pants on, but he’d surrendered to the fantasy of being a sexy woodland siren already, and instead grabbed the shaft in his vixen paw. Deprived of sexual pleasure and stimulation for over a week, his cock shot off a load that hit the far wall at the very first dainty touch of the vixen’s paw. Cleaning himself off as best he could, he reveled in the sensations as he massaged and stroked his shaft, pressing it between his legs and pulling the vixen’s labial entrance over it. With the head now past the opening, it stuck there and he could take his paw away, leaving behind only a slightly thicker mound under the fur than would be there if the vixen were worn by a woman.

Slinging the strap of the canteen over his shoulder, he let it bump his soft, moss filled hip as he skipped out on his high heeled paw boots, hips swinging and tail moving in time. There was just enough light out to see the track down to the creek, and enough for him to see herself for the first time in the surface of the slow-moving water. At the first sight, she cupped her boobs in excitement and the sexy vixen in the water did the same, jumping in place so that they almost bounced right back out of her paws. Her reflection was all woman, a vixen with fluffy brunette hair spilling over her right shoulder, where a canteen dangled from a leather strap. Excited, she straightened up and turned, peering over her shoulder. Her butt looked magnificent. His giggles spoiling the perfect vixen image, she dipped the canteen, careful to keep herself as dry as possible, the high heeled paw boots along with her careful bending sticking her rear end out, tail gracefully arcing to rest with the tip against the backs of her knees. Her mission fulfilled, she hiked back up to the cave, feeling warm and not even as hungry as before. She was a woodland creature now – a very sexy one – and she belonged. She also knew exactly where her next meal was coming from and she fell asleep cuddling her tail, her excitement and anticipation forming a bulge between her legs. She sighed as she scratched it with a claw and rubbed her legs together, but didn’t bring herself all the way. She wanted to be a tidy fox when she went foraging tomorrow.

Cinnamon – she decided to think of herself as the vixen she was – picked her way down the slope. It was early morning, too early for lovers on holiday to get up. She reached the campsite without a peep from the still and dark tent. She was a fox, she told herself, and foxes were naughty scavengers who would steal your food if you weren’t careful. The campers had put all of theirs in a latched cooler and hoisted it up a tree on rope to keep it away from bears. Very sensible, Cinnamon thought as she let the cooler down. Bears are stupid and don’t deserve camper’s food. Foxes are smart, foxes know how to untie a knot and undo even a complicated latch like this one. Foxes deserve the cold sausage, cereal, and everything else Cinnamon had already begun to enjoy. Foxes were bold, she thought as she poured cereal down her muzzle and into Vince’s open mouth.

There were stirrings from the tent. Foxes were cunning creatures and knew when to hide their tracks and retreat. Cradling an armful of packaged food, Cinnamon carefully re-locked the cooler and hoisted it back up the tree. Kneeling by the peg, she felt that perhaps foxes could be a little better with their paws. The tent was just opening when she finally got the knot re-tied and with her hair and tail streaming behind her, dashed off into the brush. Perhaps one or the other would emerge, go to the bathroom, and return. Then she could go back to her pilfering.

No such luck. Both lovers came out – the dark-haired man sans fur and trousers – and pottered about the campsite. “Are you sure you don’t remember where you put Cinnamon?” The man asked.

“Yes, Ansen, I’m sure.” The woman said, sounding on the edge of tears. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I just can’t remember where she went. I could have sworn I hung her up next to you when I went to check dinner.”

Ansen rubbed Ellie’s shoulders. “It’s OK, hon. It’s only a costume. We can get another.” Vince privately was jealous of how blasé he was about an obviously expensive item of clothing.

“I want to go home.” Ellie said, depressed. “I’m sick of the outdoors. The outdoors sucks. It steals my fursuits.”

“All right. Why don’t we get changed and I’ll pack us up while you pull the car around?”

That brought a tiny giggle to Ellie’s lips. “Yeah, it’d be a bit weird us going home like this seeing as how I’m the only one with a driver’s license.” Vince only understood this statement after she retreated into the tent and Ansen’s twin emerged a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a button down checked shirt. Ansen made the same change but in reverse and then Ansen – the new Ansen – took what looked like deflated copies of him and Ellie out and put them on the same chair Ellie – now Ansen – had hung the Cinnamon suit on. “It would be more fun if you could drive,” the former Ellie said.

“It would be nice if you didn’t mislay your costumes and then get upset about it,” the real Ellie called back to the retreating Ansen as he turned to go towards where they’d parked their car, earning a rude gesture. She adjusted her dress and started towards the peg holding their cooler up.

Vince didn’t know why, though he later justified it by thinking that it would help him fit the vixen suit – and thus retain more heat. He just acted. With both of them distracted, Cinnamon darted out from the shrubbery yet again, this time absconding with the Ellie suit. Unaccustomed to her vixen body, she made more noise than Vince had when he stole her, and both Ellie and Ansen turned in time to see a black and white tipped red tail scoot under a bush and notice that one of their skinsuits was gone. “I guess that explains where Cinnamon went!” Ellie laughed. “See? It was just a mischievous forest dweller. And you were worried about raccoons!”

“Yeah,” Ansen laughed, then looked more serious. “If we’ve got thieves here, it’s probably for the best that we leave.”

“Yeah, though what refined and tasteful thieves at that. Not a paw on our electronics or our car, but goes straight for a vixen suit and now your twinsuit of me.”

“Well, it makes it easy to track them if they ever show up in town.” Ansen said. “I don’t think anyone at the Basilisk will fail to recognize Cinnamon. Or an extra you.”

“Looks like our vulpine visitor got our breakfast, though.” Ellie said, opening the much lighter cooler.

“So much for the warning: don’t feed the animals.”

Cinnamon caught sight of them driving down the highway in the far distance. Thinking about it, she realized she’d been an idiot not to just ask them for a lift back into town instead of stealing their costumes. He’d taken off the vixen suit and was working his arms into the arms of the Ellie costume. The padding was so lifelike that as he put the mask on and adjusted the internal pouch which held his suppressed manhood, he reflected that there had been no way he’d guess that the sexy, voluptuous blonde from the campsite had been her own boyfriend. As Cinnamon put the vixen suit back on, she reflected that now she was a sexy lady in an exotic and erotic fox costume. A sexy lady whose breasts were already intruding on her thoughts. The squishy, realistic sacs in the skin suit were so much heavier than moss! She looked and felt magnificent, but how did that help her survive winter? She was going to be warm – even with just the Ellie suit, she wouldn’t be worried about freezing as long as she had her small fire to return to. Neither of the costumes helped her get food.

Then again…

Cinnamon returned to the creek and – feeling absolutely confident that there wasn’t another person for miles around – stripped the vixen suit back off. The new Ellie was getting pretty good with the costume, and at least she had her moss bed back. Not that she needed it. The naked woman regarded herself in the water, turning, twisting, enjoying her image from every angle. The hidden zipper in the back looked like the curve of her spine and there was no sign even in her voice now that she was Vince, failed survivalist. The suit had given her a voice to match the red lips, lightly tanned perfectly smooth skin, and curves. She brushed back the thick blonde tresses, adjusted her breasts just so, and stood with her legs together, twisted just a tiny bit so that she could see her rear end peeking out. On a lady with slimmer hips and a smaller chest, her midriff might have been a source of disappointment, but balanced with the wider hips and big round boobs, Ellie’s middle looked just right. Not as afraid of spoiling the more easily cleaned skin than the vixen fur, she massaged the flesh between her thighs which hid a masculine secret, and despite them being only gel, she rubbed a boob just to watch herself pleasuring herself. White juices leaked from those seemingly feminine lips and trickled down her inner thigh until she took some water in her hand – reveling as much in how insulated she was as in her self-pleasure – and wiped it away.

She had a fully belly for the first time in weeks, a warm layer, and the beginnings of a plan. Vince might have been unable to get a lift, but … Ellie tucked the vixen’s mask into the suit and draped it over her body. A curvy blonde bimbo scantily clad in strips of fur and nothing else? What man wouldn’t stop for that?

Vince was, perhaps, still suffering from the lingering effects of his once desperate situation. Doubtless if he’d been well fed and rational he’d have never tied the vixen suit’s arms around his Ellie chest so that they formed a band that covered most of what needed covering with the appearance that she was being constantly felt up by a pair of black backed, white fingered paws. He definitely wouldn’t have crossed the legs around his generous rear and round thighs and then pulled the tail between her legs, tying the vixen’s legs around it so that she could tuck the tail under the chest band so that the white tip peeked out from her natural cleavage. Doing all of this, he would have been terrified of adding only a pair of boots and leaving all his remaining possessions behind to hike up to the road. The only sensible thing he’d done was wait until later in the day since that was when there was some chance of seeing a car go by, it meant he’d be returning to town near dusk and perhaps would be able to sneak around without being seen, and because it gave him a chance to think of what he’d say when he was picked up and if caught. The fact that it also gave him most of the day to fondle a woman in an intimate way for the first time in almost a year was entirely incidental.

However, he was just that desperate, and so there was Ellie, bare thighs and calves, her hips and sides exposed along with the top and bottom of her breasts, standing by the road with one hand on a bare hip, the other sticking a thumb out at passing traffic. The very first vehicle – a truck with a high cab – stopped. During the half hour wait for the almost deserted highway to bear fruit, she’d refined two stories and was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to use the second. If the driver had been a woman, this might have been less awkward – or at least more fun for Vince. A sob story about being left behind by a rich jerk who decided he liked the girl she’d brought with for ‘moral support’ to the camping party that had gone out of control would have been a fun one to elaborate on.

She barely had to say anything, which was a relief and a worry. The short, paunchy driver, a blue cap failing to hide his baldness and a T-shirt riding up his beer belly was almost falling out of his seat to open the door and welcome her in. Even in her sex-crazed and food-starved state, Ellie was aware of how much trouble she might be in. A glance back into the forest which would definitely kill her if she stayed much longer was enough. “Oh, thank god!” She said in a high, tremulous voice, climbing into the cab and settling into the passenger seat. “I thought I was going to die out there.” The short climb caused her boobs to slip somewhat in their band and she adjusted them even as she spoke to the driver, Vince knowing what effect it was having. Not that Ellie expected to be ejected from the vehicle for any reason, but best to build up credit as soon as possible.

“H-happy to help someone in need!” The driver stammered, eyes roving over Ellie’s makeshift fur bikini, and goggling as she demurely pulled the seatbelt into the tanned cleavage and over her fur-clad lap.

She flashed a smile at him which was mostly genuine. She was getting out of here, and the seatbelt was helping to hold her vixen top and bottom on. “You wouldn’t believe how I ended up there.” She sighed. “I can barely believe it and I lived it. I’m Ellie, by the way,” she said, noticing that the driver hadn’t yet put the truck back into gear and deciding maybe she’d better get him a little used to her before he had to watch the road again.

“Parron.” The truck driver said, holding out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

She shook the hoary hand of the horny trucker. “Likewise. That’s an interesting name.”

“It was my grandfather’s. Not sure how he got it.” A car went by and the sound and motion seemed to shake Parron out of his understandably dazed state. It wasn’t every day that he saw a leggy, curvy blonde in a red furred costume that left little to the imagination trying to hitch, but he still had his delivery to make. “Where to?”

“Not far.” Ellie said. “Just to town. I was on a camping trip when things got a little out of hand and I ended up being left behind. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and everyone had gone!”

Parron couldn’t quite imagine how anyone would overlook someone like Ellie. “Must have been a real fright.”

“You’re telling me! Lucky that the boy I was with set out this rug or whatever it is under us or I’d have frozen to death out there.” She leaned over the vent and let the warm air blow her hair back. She sighed and let out a little hum of pleasure. “Do you like it hot? I sure do. This is just heavenly.” She peeked out from the side of her lowered lashes at Parron. “You might want to look at the road more.” She said playfully. Vince knew he shouldn’t keep pushing his savior like this since he already had his ride back, but Ellie was having fun! Parron was proving to be the sort of man who was happy to have her along and to look, but wasn’t going to risk his paycheck by pulling over again. Ellie didn’t know what she’d do if she managed to tempt him into that, but she’d think of something.

She lay back in the seat and let the relaxing heat soak into her bones. It was so nice being somewhere with climate control. She drifted, aware in the back of her mind of the soothing motion of the truck and letting herself relax. As long as that motion continued, she was … mostly safe. Parron looked over at her as often as he dared, feeling as much affection and protectiveness as sexual desire for the vulnerable sleeping woman, her head tilted a little to one side and mouth slightly open. He decided she’d been through more than she’d told him. He thought about stopping to put a blanket over her – even in his truck she must be cold in that getup! – but the exit was coming up and there wasn’t much point. “Hey,” he said softly and she cooed, shifting in the seat and exposing more buttock that she probably should. “Hey … Ellie,” right, that was her name. “We’re almost there. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

She stirred, then yawned and stretched, the motion causing her top to slide. Opening her eyes, she was suddenly aware of where and who she was. With a squeak, she hastily pulled her breast band back up and glanced with mingled embarrassment and fear at Parron, who pretended not to notice. “Uh…” Vince hadn’t thought this far ahead. “There’s fine.” She pointed at a random house. Worried, she realized how light it was. Parron was a seasoned veteran of the road and had gotten her there earlier than planned. “Listen, um…” She was thinking hard. “You’re on the road a lot, right? Like, you have a space in the back where you sleep?”

Parron frowned. He’d been all for sharing his ride for awhile with an outrageously attractive young woman who … he was trying not to think of her as a bimbo but she did seem a bit oblivious. His feelings towards her as she slept were in conflict with the stirrings he felt at her invitation and the pleading look in her eyes. No, he had a job and a wife, and this wasn’t the kind of payment he wanted. “I do, but you really don’t have to-“

His reaction broke through Vince’s self-absorption. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean – you’ve been really nice but – I just meant – I need to, well, adjust my outfit a little. You’ve got a nice ride, but after the first few bumps, I think the knots slipped. It might fall off entirely if I just jump out of your truck, Parron. Please?”

“Oh,” Parron wasn’t sure how to feel about her pre-rejection. “No, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want a nice girl like you to end up in jail for indecency.” He pointed behind the seats to a cubby with his bed and a mini fridge.

“Thanks!” She dove back, proving her point as the fur bands undid themselves and she almost left her one piece car lure behind. Parron tried not to look at her bare rump as she squeezed between the seats and overbalanced into the rest area, and she tried not to notice him looking her chest – now only covered by the expedient of her keeping one arm over her breasts - as she reached back and pulled the wayward parts of her outfit from the cab where she’d left them. From then on, Parron looked stolidly forward, driven almost wild by the rustling, zipping, and breathing coming from his bedroom on the road. He glanced in the mirror and then went back to looking straight ahead, his own breathing ragged and his hands straying and then clenching as he struggled against the urge of releasing all the pent up sexual tension of the last half hour.

After an agonizing – to Parron – two minutes, Ellie scrambled back into the forward section and plopped into the passenger seat, now covered in shades of red, black, and white fur from the neck down. “Thanks for everything,” she breathed, pulling her tail – tail? – around her. She reached for him and grabbed his chin before he could draw back. He couldn’t resist anymore and let her turn his head towards her – amazingly her deep green eyes held his even though the black rubber nipples were pressing into him – and gave him the hottest, most arousing and exciting kiss he’d ever had. She glanced down and then back up, grinning. “I think that’s taken care of that.” She pulled back and opened the door. Blowing a kiss with the same white fingered paw that had caused him to almost have a stroke when it stroked him during the kiss, she turned and bounded away.

“Wait!” Parron called. She paused and looked over her shoulder with that gleam in her eye that made him yet again rethink his opinion of her story. “If you could wear it like that, then why –“

“Are you complaining?” She called back. “No? Then enjoy the view and the memories, Parron.” With that, she pulled the vixen mask over her head and Cinnamon dashed away, his last sight of her being her tail zipping between the hedges of a garden gate.

All right, Cinnamon, the vixen thought to herself as she hastily scooted across the suburban yard and out a side gate well out of view of the still parked Parron, you’ve become an urban fox. Now what? She was dressed provocatively but in a way that wouldn’t prompt arrest or – she hoped – more attention than she could handle. She was, however, still lacking a means to feed herself, get shelter, or in any way return to a human lifestyle. She loved being a fox, but spending the rest of her life escaping notice while scavenging and stealing what she needed didn’t appeal to her. She was a lovely young beast and she had learned in her brief car trip that she enjoyed warmth, feeding, being taken care of. This wild animal wanted to be domesticated!

Creeping from house to house, staying low and out of the streetlamps, Cinnamon was surprised that no one seemed to notice her. The sidewalks were sparsely after the afternoon commute but before people went out for the night, but a giant sexy vixen who was mostly failing to cover large black rubber nipples was garnering so little attention. She was doing her best to be modest, but she also needed to keep her balance when stuck standing on her toes while running, ducking, and keeping below window height. It entirely escaped her notice that her tall pointed ears stuck out even when the rest of her head was out of sight. Cinnamon had yet another brainwave and was looking for a very specific window. After checking over thirty houses, she found it. Cracked to let the air in – which meant that it wasn’t locked – lights out – so no one to have to make awkward explanations to – and with obviously feminine decoration – preferably with clothing on display like the very one she was looking through. Not only on display but to her unpracticed woman’s eyes about the right size.

The window went up silently, and Cinnamon squeezed through, heavy chest threatening to overbalance her and make her fall in with more noise than she dared make. With a jolt of panic, her hips stuck in the just-too-narrow frame and for a moment she was scrabbling and wiggling to force her wide rear end to follow the rest of her into the house. She went over in an uncoordinated roll, with the final effort and ended up sprawled in front of a closet door. Getting up, she brushed herself down and looked around. No one seemed to have noticed the noise. She closed the window and padded to the closet.

She was just taking down a likely looking ankle length skirt when the lights turned on. “Hiya, Cinna!” A bright voice chirped behind her. “Looking to ‘borrow’ some of your sister’s best again?”

Cinnamon turned around slowly and stared at the girl behind her. The source of the voice did look she might be Ellie’s younger sister, a slighter but very attractive young lady with her golden hair tied back in a tail. To Vince’s eye, she wasn’t as sexy as Ellie, but then again she was also wearing dark blue pajamas with yellow stars and was holding a teddy bear. Apparently Cinnamon had managed to break into Ellie’s sister’s house when she was preparing for an early night. “Uh, yeah.” Cinnamon put her paw behind her head, letting some of the natural awkwardness of the situation appear like embarrassment at being caught. She was very glad the girl couldn’t see her face.

“Hmmm…” The girl hummed to herself. “Cinna?”

“Yes?”

The girl rocked back on her heels with a sudden naughty gleam in her eye which Cinnamon recognized from Ellie’s own expression when she was teasing boys. “I just remembered something,” she said in a singsong voice. “I know a secret.” Going back to a normal voice, she cried joyously, “Oh, Cinnamon, what happened to you?” She rushed forward, and Vince wasn’t sure whether to enjoy or be alarmed at being brushed and petted by Ellie’s younger sister. “Oh, no! This won’t do at all, Cinna! You can’t go out like this. Your fur is all messed up and you’ve got sticks and dirt and – oh no!” She pulled the vixen back into her bedroom and pushed her into a chair in front of a vanity. “You can’t just throw on some of my clothes and go out. You need to get cleaned up and beautiful.” She leaned down and whispered, “Mils, by the way. The name you’re trying to remember is Mils.”

Cinnamon was left stunned as Mils busied herself with gathering brushes and bottles. Still tutting to herself, she left and before Cinnamon could even think of leaving she returned with a basin full of water. “Let’s get you all shiny and soft again.” She said, mixing several of the shampoos and perfumes into the basin and dipping a brush into it, attacking Cinnamon’s head fur to start and then changing out the formula to work on the rest of her body. Cinnamon’s terror at being discovered melted away under Mils’ expert attentions. The brushes were like a massage and Mils’ hands felt gloriously sensual on her vixen body, the first time a real live lady had touched her since she began the journey that had led to this furry femininity she was now experiencing. This was more like it! Being a pampered pet fox sure beat living the lean life in the wilderness.

Mils continued to hum to herself, evidently enjoying brushing and bathing the vixen. Cinnamon began to lean into the brush and purr herself, earning happy giggles from Mils. As the bath and grooming went on, they both got more enthusiastic, until Cinnamon was letting out excited yips and rubbing up against Mils every time the brush or hand strayed into a ticklish or erotic area. Finally, as Cinnamon was growling with need and pushing as hard as she could on a soft brush that Mils had been using to expertly style the fur between her legs, Mils laughed and said, “I think you might need to have your glow enhanced.” Cinnamon didn’t know what that meant, but learned swiftly when the brush was traded for a vibrating wand.

With flicks and well-timed changes to the level of vibration, Mils brought Cinnamon in and out of a sexual haze. “Who’s my pretty vixen, then?”

“I am!” Cinnamon cried, grabbing at the wand with her paw to try to get Mils to do more and always having it snatched away before she could get a grip.

“Who’s going to be a beautiful little foxy girl when I’m done?” When Cinnamon was a little too slow, she started to pull the wand away.

“I am!” Cinnamon shouted, twining herself around Mils’ arm.

“And who is going to see you at the Brilliant Basilisk tonight?”

“You are!” Cinnamon moaned, and then let out a screech of ecstasy as Mils switched the wand to full power.

“Yes, I am! And I’m going to have to clean you up down there all over again, aren’t I?” She did just that, and with the application of a few more bottles she left Cinnamon to enjoy her fluffy aromatic self while she looked for just the right thing for her new pet vixen to wear. “You’re the best, Mils.” Cinnamon said as her younger sister came back.

“I know I am.” Mils winked. “So, Cinna, I think that you’re in a party mood, so let’s make sure everyone knows it.”

The PVC dress was black, shiny, and as tight as possible without being unwearable. Mils helped Cinnamon to get into it, hiking it past her hips and hauling on the zipper to get it to close around her middle and chest. Even if a nipple showed, it would blend in with the dress itself, which ended above mid-thigh and had a hole in the back that let her tail swing free. “We don’t want your feet to get dirty again.” Mils said, clasping patent leather shoes around the bottoms of Cinnamon’s foot paws. “There. Simple, but that’s all you need. Your natural stocking and glove patterns really work with this.”

“Thanks, Mils.” Cinnamon said, pressing her muzzle to her sister’s cheek. “Are you coming with?”

Mils looked at her bed. “I was going to turn in early, but I’ll join you later. This has been too much fun to end here.” Waving to each other, Cinnamon exited by the front door after being given directions to the club her sister had told her about. A block out, Vince froze up. Why was he doing this? Why not just make a run for it? Looking down at her red and white furred cleavage, Cinnamon acknowledged that she had nowhere better to go. Looking like this, she thought, she’d easily get some food and drink out of someone at the club and all she had to do was look sexy and maybe dance with them. Her plan had been to steal some clothes and do just that as Ellie at the first bar she saw. Dolled up and given directions somewhere Cinnamon was welcome … well, that was the same plan but better.

Her newly shod feet clicking on the concrete, she sashayed down the sidewalk, content to let the sexy charm that seemed to have taken over her life guide her. If nothing else, she’d confirmed that both Cinnamon and Ellie were known in town, so while escaping to somewhere else was a good idea, she wasn’t likely to hitch a lift at this time of night. Better to make use of her appearance and maybe trick some of Ellie’s friends into treating her for the night.

The Brilliant Basilisk was easy to spot as one of the few lit up storefronts in the otherwise normal suburban main street. Everyone else was closed, but the Bask was just getting going as she walked with perfect confidence through the door, trusting that her appearance would let her past anything that might stand in her way. No one stopped her as she approached the bar, and the cute boy behind it seemed to know her because a drink was already waiting when she daintily settled her shiny black clad rear on the seat. The bartender nodded at a sandy haired man further down, and it took the inexperienced Cinnamon a minute to realize what had happened, and then with a laugh, she picked got up and took her drink over to the man who had bought it for her. So quick! Vince had been on the opposite end of this, and decided to give her benefactor what Vince had never gotten. “Thanks, handsome.” She said, guiding the straw down her muzzle and to her mouth. She dared not ask his name in case he’d bought the real Cinnamon drinks before.

“No problem, honey.” He said, smiling as she rested a paw on his knee and reciprocating.

“Too bad the music hasn’t started yet,” Cinnamon sighed, “I’m really ready to dance.”

“I can arrange it.” The man said, and with a final gulp of their drinks, he took Cinnamon’s paw and he waved to the DJ to start up.

“Mmm,” Cinnamon said as they whirled around, already closer than Vince had ever been on a first dance. “I usually only take drinks from carnivores.” She said. “But you’re cute.”

“If it’s meat you want…” The man said and they both laughed. Cinnamon didn’t protest as he rested his hand lower and lower on her back, and as they pressed closer to each other, her paw began to do the same. A truly unfamiliar sensation was creeping up on her. Cinnamon was getting hot! It had been so long since she’d even felt comfortably warm that the last two days she’d floated in bliss on ever more intense heat waves, but now that she was moving fast and keeping up with a man with no fur at all, she was starting to want to take her mask off.

“Hey, why don’t we …” she didn’t want to say, ‘get to know each other better’ in case they already did, “go somewhere quiet and have something to eat? I missed dinner getting ready to come here.”

“Sounds good to me.” The Bask turned out to have a few tables in a side room that muffled most of the pounding beat of the dance floor.

“Oh, lovely,” Ellie said, letting her Cinnamon mask hang behind her as she bent forward over the plate of sliders and fries her date brought from an order window. “I’m hungry.” She commented, tearing into it.

“I can tell.” He laughed. “So, Ellie,” that confirmed it, and Vince prepared to evade like crazy, “where’s Ansen?”

“Oh, he’s … a little tired after the camping trip. Things didn’t go as well as he’d planned, and he’s been bummed. I tried to surprise him as Cinnamon, but he wasn’t really into it and practically pushed me out the door telling me to have fun here.”

“Damn he makes it hard for me to feel right stealing you away like this!” The man said, with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m glad to do it, though, if he’s not feeling … energetic tonight.” His hand was resting on her knee.

“I’m sure he won’t mind if for tonight…” Their lips met, though not for long because Ellie was back at her food a minute later. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m famished all of a sudden.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with hauling around twenty pounds of sexy fur with another layer of plastic on top.”

“Yeah, but I look damn hot in it,” she winked.

“I’m surprised you aren’t sweating. You stand it a lot better than I could.”

“Let me show you just how much heat I can stand!” Ellie finished off the last slider and pushed her date into the wall, kissing him fiercely in an attempt to take his mind away from interacting with her as a complex woman with needs that he knew and she didn’t and into thinking of her as a sexy vixen with only one thing on her mind. She was fed again and while the room was spinning – alcohol on top of starvation wasn’t her best idea – she was ready to thank him for it and then maybe figure out what she was going to do next.

With her breath back and her Cinnamon mask on again, they returned to the dance floor and this time their inhibitions were gone. She because the accumulated night’s events were making her feel frisky again, and him because he thought his crush had just given him the green light on a one-night fling. Their hands traveled up and down, and with a lot of squeaking both of the plastic and foxy kind, his hands made their way over her well groomed and sensitive fake sex. She slipped her paw down his pants and the next thing they knew the differences between dancing and heavy petting were forgotten.

Ellie was just about to take the mask off again to pick up where the last kiss has left off when a loud click and pressure around her neck startled some sense back into her. What was she doing letting some man she’d never met into her pants, a man who she was using someone else’s face to seduce? She just wanted food and a place out of the wind. And what was that around her neck?

“Good evening, Cinnamon.” Ansen said, grinning as he rounded on her. He was wearing elaborate evening clothes.

“Oh, I guess I’d better get going.” Her disappointed date said, seeing what he thought was her real boyfriend taking over.

“Probably for the best.” Ellie said, taking up position on Cinnamon’s other side. Her floor length velvet dress and tight bodice alternately made her elegant and flaunted the body Vince had enjoyed so much.

“Ellie? Wait, then who’s this?”

“A naughty vixen who stole treats from our campsite.” Ellie explained. “You’ve had your fun, fox, but now it’s time we had ours.”

“Yes, uh…” The man wasn’t used to this level of play. “I think I’ll go now.” He beat a hasty retreat, leaving the terrified Cinnamon in the clutches of the victims of her theft.

“Sorry for the confusion, hon!” Ellie called after him. “We didn’t know this one had gotten off her leash.”

“Hey, Cinna!” A white bunny with a blonde braid called, running up to them. The matching PVC outfit and the voice told Cinnamon that it was Mils.

“Our mutual sister said she had a lot of fun with you.” Ellie said, twining the leather leash around her finger.

Ansen adjusted the studded leather collar. “It looks like you were being very naughty with Jimmy, though. Bad vixen!”

“We ought to be very angry with you, but here you are.”

Mils hopped in place. “I told you I caught you fair and square and asked if I could have a Cinnamon as my full-time pet, seeing as how she’s usually so busy with Ansen’s reynard Pike.” She wrapped her arms around Cinnamon, who briefly tried to pull away before seeing the longing look on the bunny’s face and relented. Unlike the vixen, the bunny’s mask was molded to Mils’ face, expressive and open.

“Can I take my new Cinnamon for a dance. Please?” Mils asked, looking over Cinnamon’s shoulder at Ansen and Ellie.

“All right, dear, but only one. You wanted to go to bed early tonight, remember?” Ellie smiled indulgently and handed Mils the leash.

“EEE!” Mils dragged Cinnamon onto the dance floor, though not with the leash, which she kept loosely tied around one wrist. “I’m glad you decided to come.” Mils said, resting her head on Cinnamon’s shoulder as they twirled. “I knew you liked being brushed and petted and made a fuss over, but lots of foxes would run away from that once they got outside and tasted the air again.”

Cinnamon didn’t know what to say; it was all so strange to her. Dancing with men and seducing them was one thing, but this … this she had no mental preparation for. “I … I did like it.” She said, patting Mils on the back. As Mils held her close, Cinnamon reciprocated. “You’re … you’re a sweet girl and I liked having you as a sister?”

Mils sighed. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that. I loved being your sister, though I’m more your big sister or your keeper, aren’t I? You have so much to learn about being a beautiful fox.” They snuggled in each other’s fur and for a few minutes Cinnamon forgot being sexy and was just … fluffy and cute and warm in yet another new way that she’d only discovered that day. There was warmth, warmth, and warmth it seemed. Mils had all of them at once.

Then the dance was over and Mils was handing her charge over to the man of the house. “It’s going to be so much fun teaching you to be a good little house fox.” Ansen snapped the leash between his hands. “Why don’t we go home and get acquainted?”

Whimpering, brought back to the reality that she was really Vince, a thief caught by the people she’d stolen from, Cinnamon let herself be lead by the leash to the couple’s car and bundled into the back. She didn’t look up as they cruised along, afraid and ashamed at being caught like this. The bunny Mils tried to comfort her, rubbing her shoulder and whispering encouraging things into her ear, but it didn’t help. A gentle tug told her it was time to get out and she found herself in the same house she’d snuck into and been given her makeover in.

The moment the door was closed, the stern expressions on Ansen and Ellie’s faces melted away. “Let’s see.” Ellie said, pulling Cinnamon’s mask off. “Oh, you really have made yourself at home quickly.” She giggled. “Oh, Ansen! I don’t think I’ve ever seen that expression on my face, even when someone else has it.” Confused, Cinnamon continued to let herself be led around and was seated in a chair opposite a couch where the other two settled down.

“You’re the grown-ups, so I’ll let you decide what to do.” Mils said, skipping away as if nothing were odd about any of it.

“I’m not going to lie, we were very annoyed at first. Those suits are expensive, but you’re not doing too badly for your first try.”

“But whatever you think we’re going to do to you,” Ellie leaned forward hungrily, “whatever fantasy you might be having … it will only be fulfilled if you want it.” She laughed again. “Oh, but I’m going to enjoy seeing all these new expressions my face seems capable of. Honey, we’re not going to tie you up and keep you in a kennel while we take turns violently penetrating you in between bouts of making you walk on all fours to fellate one or the other of us.”

“Well, not immediately.” Ansen grinned.

“There’s fun and then there’s cruelty. We’re never cruel to poor, defenseless, needy animals. We always feed our strays, and … well, let’s not talk about the ones with the little notches in their ears just yet. If all you do is give us back what’s ours and walk away, that’s fine. From the way you were putting that dinner away, I’d guess you somehow got stuck in that forest for a long time.”

Vince tried to speak, but Ansen broke in. “The way you took to it, though, we think you’re not going to just leave. Mils said you loved playtime, and you two were just darling dancing together. I haven’t seen Mils this excited since we decided to live together, and she’s been pining for something like Ellie and me have. It’s not quite the same yet, but maybe one day. To be clear, we’ll even go as far as a clean set of clothes and some canned stuff for the road in payment for the entertainment of watching you and how much Mils enjoyed it. Remember, it’s because of her that we’re so open to keeping you around. Mils loved having her own Cinnamon to play with, and – well – like we said, she thought you were happy to be her pet fox.”

“I – I.” Vince had no idea what to say. This was so … weird. Dancing with Mils, though, and what she’d done before … It felt somehow like coming home after a long time out in the cold. “You’re right. I made some stupid decisions and ended up living in that forest with nothing. It’s been fun, Mils was sexy … I – all right! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but being your pet at least until I can get back on my feet sounds amazing.” He laughed, conscious of how effortlessly his suited voice harmonized with Ellie’s satisfied chuckle. “I mean, it’s a better idea than selling everything and becoming a mountain man after a life with absolutely no outdoor experience.”

“I could get used to hearing that voice and seeing that face in two places at once.” Ansen grinned at Ellie, who punched him in the arm. “In that case, welcome to the family. We’re fair here, and if you do a good job as ‘pet’ you might one day be promoted as far as ‘youngest sister who has an annoying catchphrase she’s contractually obliged to use in every episode.’”

Ellie got up and pressed the Cinnamon mask back over Vince’s faux Ellie head. She undid the leash. “I don’t think we need this indoors. Let’s go tell Mils the good news. Oh, but perhaps she oughtn’t to get her own Cinnamon except as a treat. Once you’re settled in, we’ll get you measured up for something else.”

“She’s scrappy, rangy, willing to steal to get what she wants but still cuddly and cute when trying to show affection for food.” Ansen said.

“Raccoon? No, she’s got more … teeth than I’d think of for a raccoon. Maybe a coyote. We’ll see how things go.” Ellie said.

“Should she be your relative?”

“No, I’ve already got a sister. Let’s have her on your side of the family.”

Cinnamon let her new caring owners talk about the future. She was just a fox, and was happy to stay in the present. She hadn’t gotten where she was by planning and wasn’t that the truth! Looking at the two heads of the household deep in plans and conversation, she decided that being warm and full was enough for now. Sleeping in Mils’ bed as her exotic special pet and playing the pampered fox was wonderful, and if their talk was anything to go by, she was going to enjoy getting into trouble and having Ansen and Ellie punish her – but only when she got caught! Were foxes allowed to use the wand on their owners, or was peanut butter going to be involved somehow? As she went into Mils’ room and was showered in kisses and hugs by the bunny who had somehow collared a fox, she decided she couldn’t wait to find out.

Skin Spin

By Paul Calhoun

Ollie’s world exploded the moment he opened the apartment door, his senses flooded by Penelope’s body against his. Her sheer, filmy dress would have scandalized his grandparents and even more so at the thought of her pressing against him before he could even close the door with his foot. His own clothes, evocative of a pair of harem pants and a similarly lightweight shirt would have likely been even more surprising. Ollie himself could hardly imagine a world where such vulgar and offensive things as polyester and wool clothes were commonplace. His grandparents, however, had been the last generation unable to share what had eventually – and with a great deal of geeky glee – been called grokking. When Penelope embraced him, she was doing more than sharing an intimate closeness with him. She was sharing her self, or at least a knowing that went far beyond sight, vocal description, or smell. As long as they were touching, they could feel each other. It only needed the slightest contact to get a friendly read, a sort of compact impression that told a person a lot about who they’d touched, including a hint of their surface feelings. A handshake was more than enough to foster strong trust – the reason why heavy clothes were considered impolite and gloves were considered obscene except in very cold weather - and the embrace he’d been pulled into had him salivating and his filmy pants bulged as he felt her intense desire at his presence.

“Okay, what do you want?” He laughed, their lips meeting and communicating a subtle hint that told Ollie that though Penelope would love nothing more than to drag him to the nearest cushioned surface and give him a thorough boink hello, she was also interested in him for more than just his body.

The compact redhead – a funny way to put a woman with such lovely curves, and even funnier since Ollie’s diminutive height matched hers – brushed her fingers through his hair. “Let me show you.” Not letting go of his hand, she pulled him into their bedroom and only then allowed him his freedom so he could sit and enjoy the view as she bent over and pulled a small but lovingly carved wooden box out of the closet. It was her ‘treasure box’ where she put all the things she prized but weren’t worth putting somewhere safer, like the bank deposit box she kept her work documents in. Being the PA to Madame Legate Ginger Vershorn meant handling a lot of sensitive paperwork. If she hadn’t been so focused, Ollie might have reached out to grab that big, heart-shaped derriere as it swayed and bounced with her tugs to get the box out. She didn’t need to touch him to see what he was thinking and waved a finger in warning.

When she opened the box and pulled out what she’d been looking for, however, Ollie had to reach out and touch Penelope to share the shiver of delighted anticipation he felt when he saw what she was holding. “Role play?” He asked hopefully.

Pen pulled the skin to her chest. “Oh, yes! I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll do that afterwards for sure.” She laid the shed skin of her coworker Melinda on the bed next to Ollie and followed it with another one of someone else. These were the result of the same biological process that had made empathic connections between people possible. The nerve endings that sent and received sensations between people had to be immensely sensitive – a normal layer of skin would block out all but the strongest feelings. Humans had developed the need to shed their entire dermal layer to keep their senses fresh, a process that occurred approximately once every fifty to sixty days. The hormonal flood that came with each slough had finally defeated the eternal male fear and revulsion at the menstrual cycle since they now had their own PMS – post molt syndrome – to deal with, not to mention leaving behind an enormous open-backed shell of themselves. Women, naturally, ended up synching their cycles together and not much changed. It began at puberty, before which the empathic ability was weak and usually no more than vague impressions. The second childhood of the last generation to be unable to use emotional perception was thus complete. Ollie often felt bad for them, anachronisms in their clothes, their ideas, and even their very senses. No matter how healthy they were, they were unable to participate in a world that they’d never had.

The skins were usually only kept at milestones or for specific purposes and quickly biodegraded, dipped in bacterial baths so that they would be eaten more quickly and thus be impossible to use to steal DNA or fool a biometric lock. He touched Melinda’s skin, feeling how soft and natural it seemed. Pen must have gotten it into a preservative very quickly. Naturally such things had been developed swiftly; chemicals that would leave a shed skin as supple and lifelike as if it had never been molted. Pen let him play a little with the skin, tracing its curves. There was no doubt in her mind that no matter how aroused he got looking at her coworker’s naked form that he’d never stray and only be interested in seeing the skin worn by Penelope to give herself a new and exotic appearance and not in the woman she appeared to be. She and Ollie were compatible; it was nearly impossible not to be these days. Some might go for the ‘challenge’ of a relationship with someone who wasn’t a perfect empathic match, but they were fewer than those who traded skins for fun and to pretend to be a different person. That kind of role play had become a mainstream fetish and Ollie assumed Pen had traded her own for Melinda when he turned over the other one and saw what had Pen so worked up.

“How – oh right, she gives them to you to be destroyed.” Ollie grinned, dragging the soft lips of Ginger Vershorn to his crotch and sticking his hand up her neck to pretend she was giving him a blow job. Her soft, empty lips felt good resting on Ollie’s pubic area, though there was nothing but his hand inside.

“No sense in wasting that idea.” Penelope knelt and pulled his arm out of Ginger’s empty neck, substituting her own head. Ginger’s lips whisked up Ollie’s cock, stopping at the very tip as Penelope’s lips met Ginger’s and her tongue flicked across Ollie’s hole. A real mouth took him inside itself then and though it might look like Ginger Vershorn’s face bobbing up and down, it felt like Pen in every way. Her tongue on his most sensitive external part had him deeper inside her head than his was in hers. He wouldn’t have even known she was finished except he tasted his cum in her mouth and then she was off of him and he was returned to a single body in the throes of passion rather than being part of a combined experience. Instead of putting the rest of the skin on and going at him again, Penelope removed the skin-mask, wiped it off, and put it down. “I’d love to, hon,” she said, picking up his stray thought in their residual synergy, “but I’m wearing the other one and we need to get ready.”

Whatever she had in mind was something Ollie knew she thought he’d enjoy. “What’s the plan?”

“This.” She took one more thing out of her treasure box, a smaller plastic container filled with oddly shaped fleshy things she started filling the Ginger skin with. “I stopped by the adult store with your measurements and had these made.” She continued, handing him a pair of panties with a thick squishy gusset that had the imprint of a penis and balls inside, a slit on the outside that entered a pouch terminating at the imprint, and which split in back so as not to get in the way of long term use. Another thing that had developed swiftly was the trade in equipment that let people wear opposite sex skins. Drag had become very popular with the advent of a layer that made passing much easier for those with decent acting skills. There were entire subcultures of people who went out as – and with – a different person every night. With the Ginger skin filled with silicone and Penelope making him raise his arms to have a corset slipped over his head, he knew what she was thinking. “I’m Ginger and you’re Melinda. What then?” If nothing else, it would be amazingly kinky. One skin wasn’t enough to block the senses of someone in decent health, but if two people were both wearing molted skins, they’d barely be able to feel each other even with nothing else over them.

“Then,” Penelope said, slipping out of her diaphanous skirt, “we get dressed and go out.” She removed her top and wiggled into an elastic breast binder. It had been easy for Ollie to make the original mistake that she would wear the Ginger skin since the Legate was just as curvy has his wife, while he wouldn’t have needed much padding to fit Melinda’s slender tomboy body. Not that Melinda herself was at all boyish. She flaunted what little she had and worked hard to make it seem like more than it was, but in the end she was a very athletically built woman and what she lacked in obvious physical charms she made up for with a fierce competence, wicked sense of humor, and graceful movements that had made her a great match to be Ginger’s top political advisor. Ginger was rarely seen in public without Melinda and Penelope on either side of her and a step behind. Melinda whispering observations and Penelope ready to take care of whatever Ginger needed doing.

Ollie was transfixed watching Penelope squeeze her lovely curves into Melinda’s tight little skin, the treated dermal layer hugging her and compressing her into its toned firm lines and making the curves still outside the skin seem even more impressive than before. Trouble with getting it over her backside gave him the perfect excuse to grab both asses and he felt Penelope’s will fighting with her desire to turn around and take him as Melinda from the waist down. He took advantage of her moment of indecision to firmly push one tush into the other and then haul the skin upwards until her sex merged with Melinda’s. The skin could only do so much to narrow Penelope’s hips, but did their best and the difference in proportion made her breasts look absolutely enormous, bursting from a smaller lower half while the skin hung down as if to keep the modesty of its part of her body. His hand lingering on her Melinda thigh communicated this observation loud and clear, and she turned towards him. “We have time.” She said huskily, and pressed her yielding flesh to him, his hands sinking into the objects of his regard. “You’re right,” she murmured. “They do look so big on her.”

“I’d say we should just stay in like this,” Ollie replied, pushing Penelope down onto the bed now that her lower half had been taken care of, “but I know whatever you’ve got planned will be even better.” He pressed his lips to hers.

Penelope’s arms were busy fighting their way through Melina’s trim set and Ollie felt her frustration along with her enjoyment of his acceptance. She knew that he knew that she was deliberately stringing him along to some surprise and was having fun trying to figure it out. He took her hands and then ran his down her arms, stroking and petting as he helped the skin slide over her. He pretended to try to go for her boobs again and even wiggled his finger under the skin as she stretched it over her belly and chest. He let her get up and his hands were around her Melinda waist, squeezing her Melinda belly. His nose nuzzled the darker colored skin covering her shoulders. Pen was a typical redhead with pale skin and freckles while Melinda was darker, toned without any marks except a birthmark just above her right buttock that Ollie had never seen before. Penelope bundled her medium length red hair into a wig cap and reached for the skin hood and mask with Melinda’s shoulder-length brown hair still attached. The dark brown was shot through with highlights that accentuated its thickness, a luxury that Penelope had never been able to cultivate. Ollie stepped back to give her room to tug and smooth the skin over her face and the new Melinda spent almost as long dealing with a stubborn wrinkle somewhere near the crown of her skull that seemed to be vexing her. With that gone, she shook her head to give her hair a natural fall and worked at her face with her fingers from forehead to chin to make sure everything was where it ought to be. She pinched Melinda’s slightly thicker lips, made sure that her eyelids were staying in place, and then turned around. Her movements were halting and awkward as she got used to how much she’d been compacted.

“So?” She smiled, bending her left leg so the knee was across the right and turning her hips slightly with her hands out to her sides, splay-fingered. She put her hands behind her head and pouted. “Is this a good look for me?” She grabbed a double-handful of boob. “I know they’re smaller than you like, but-“ She lost her place in her teasing and giggled as Ollie swept her up and fell back onto the bed with her on top of him. The skin had been fresh when she got it, so it didn’t prevent her from feeling Ollie’s stronger urges. “Didn’t I say we’d have to save the role play for later?” She wiggled her butt over his lap, enjoying the feeling of pent up heat he exuded as he was extremely aroused by her behavior but completely trapped by the false vagina she’d put on him at the beginning. “If you can’t enjoy the view without getting too excited, I’ll have to put something on. Now wouldn’t that be a shame?” She bent to brush Ollie’s nose with hers, her hair falling to frame her face and caress his shoulders. “I could get used to not having so much hair in the way.”

“Yeah, but we both like your hair long.” Ollie said. He was enjoying having Melinda’s face so close to his while being able to tell so easily it was Penelope from the voice and expressions.

“Maybe I should get a wig like this one, then.” Penelope replied, fingering her Melinda locks. “This is nice.”

Ollie rested his hands on her hips. “Don’t I need to become Ginger soon? Unless you just want to enjoy the sight of me in tight lingerie.” He grinned. “Another idea for later?”

“You know it is!” Penelope got up and retrieved the Ginger skin from where it had fallen when they got frisky. “Time to be a good PA for my Legate and help her get ready for one of her biggest appearances of the year.” Ollie didn’t have time to object to her helping him when he hadn’t done much for her. She was kneeling and tugging Ginger’s red nailed feet over Ollie’s before he had a word out. “Don’t be silly. I’m your assistant now and the less you touch yourself the quicker this will go, so I’m better off doing it.” She replied to his unspoken thought.

She hiked the skin up past his knees and pressed hard between his legs to get Ginger’s lower lips to lie flat against the featureless slit on the femme briefs she’d packed him into earlier. Her legs were a constant pressure against his while the squishy silicone enveloping him from upper thigh to waist felt strange and alien. As if he were being cupped by an enormous squishy jelly creature. Even the crotch had silicone padding to give him a realistic swell and feel to the female organ. While he was thinking, Penelope had the skin wrapped around his midriff and he was unconsciously holding his arms out so she could pull the arms down his and his hands into the skin’s, the nails on the hands the same shade as on Ginger’s feet. When he put his arms down he began to realize how heavy the padded skin was and rather than squeeze his new breasts as Penelope zipped him up, he cradled his lower back.

“What, already?” Penelope smiled at his discomfort. “Poor girl; you always liked looking but now you have to have a pair of your own to lug around. If that’s what bothers you most, then I should have had you try drag a long time ago. I’ll get you something to help in a minute. Right now we need to get the Legate pretty for the cameras.” Her breasts pressed against Ollie’s as she put her arms around him and took hold of the head. Ollie was plunged into claustrophobic darkness for a moment and then found his way into Ginger’s nose for a relieved breath. He felt Penelope’s desire for him to keep his eyes closed and he obeyed, letting her fingers work over his face and scalp. It was like a massage and he was disappointed when she found and eliminated the last wrinkle. His eyelids were now tucked into Ginger’s, her lips over his. It was sort of like and inverse makeout.

Penelope’s hands were quiet on his Ginger skin. Two molted layers were too thick to communicate much of anything, and the padded sections of the Ginger skin would be impermeable even to a normal touch. His eyes were still closed so the supernova in his mind was a shock so great that he didn’t even open them then. He was too frozen, wrapped in a woman’s discarded flesh, relaxed by a gentle massage, and now suddenly brought to full and painful awareness by the insertion of Penelope’s tongue into his mouth. It was like his first pubescent touch, an embarrassing instant where he and a junior high school crush brushed in the hallway and both learned that they’d become sensitive and what they thought of each other.

Ollie and Penelope’s thoughts and desires were momentarily a gestalt and he was seeing himself through her eyes, a beautiful woman naked with her eyes closed and her lips parted in surprise. Ginger in an attitude that was private, unseen in public. Vulnerable in a way that a Legate never could be. She opened her eyes, feeling much more feminine and confident in that femininity than she had a second before, seeing herself as Penelope was seeing her; perfect and unblemished by any sign that she wasn’t Ginger. Penelope felt the shift in attitude and swiftly worked a tiny plastic strip under the overlap where the skin of her neck met her collarbone, then slipped one over her own true throat. “I set these up in advance,” she said softly in Melinda’s voice. “Do I sound like her? I can’t tell too easily from the inside.”

Ollie nodded Ginger’s head. “Me?” She murmured, afraid to speak too loudly in case her voice was wrong and broke the vision of the voluptuous politician.

“Perfect. Oh, I promised you!” Melinda took a bra out of the box. “Straight from the Legate’s lingerie drawer.” She said, and helped Ginger into it. “It should help quite a bit.” She added as Ginger cupped, bounced, and then twisted to get a feel for her now properly supported chest. She felt like it would take longer to get used to having bra straps digging into her and having to see past long eyelashes than it would to accustom herself to having a vagina and breasts.

“Much better.” She said, a little louder now. “Too bad I can’t feel them.” She smiled, squeezing harder. “They’re not as fun as I’d hoped.”

“Real ones are better.” Melinda agreed. She poked her own chest. “I wish her boobs were actually on me instead of having mine smushed inside hers. This is probably at least as bad as your cock being stuck in Ginger’s vag.” She giggled. “I bet you never thought you were going to have your little man so deep inside Ginger!”

Ollie’s penis throbbed deep inside Ginger’s vagina. “What I wish is that I could pull it out right now.” She spread her legs and had the tip of her finger inside when Melinda put her hand on Ginger’s arm.

“Not now!” Melinda said. She looked at the clock on their bedside table. “We need to get dressed quick.” She dressed swiftly in pantyhose, a knee length sheer skirt, a light blouse and a filmy jacket in the current style. She was already putting on makeup when Ginger finally figured out which way around her panties went and was struggling with hose. “Sit down.” Melinda smiled patiently. She showed Ginger how to roll up her hose – her set only went up to mid thigh - and helped her into an opaque miniskirt that ended an inch above Ginger’s knee. Since Legates had so much riding on their thoughts, it was socially acceptable for her to wear cotton, wool, and other thick fabrics. The skirt over the hose was alien enough without the thick silk blouse and polyester jacket, all of which were made of materials that were strangely heavy. Ginger pinched her skirt between finger and thumb, amazed at its thickness and how it scratched her skin. The blouse had a deep neckline which was partly covered by the jacket, but Ginger was sure she was showing more leg than the real Ginger usually did. She didn’t say anything, though, since she had to keep her face still for Melinda to put on makeup.

In her current outfit, she’d be expected – as a Legate was – to only shake hands of trusted people. Chance touches were unlikely to pass anything at all even if she were the real Ginger and in her current getup she knew she wouldn’t transmit a thing. She knew now what she was Ginger and Penelope was Melinda. Pen might touch someone but they wouldn’t know the real Melinda. Ollie would be unmistakably male, so even if it made more sense in body type for him to be Melinda, they didn’t dare a chance encounter ruining whatever Penelope had planned. Of course, Ginger could use her leg – almost uncovered in sheer pantyhose – to send clandestine messages, but if this was a public appearance that wasn’t expected and for the best since it wouldn’t work.

She didn’t realize she was smiling and rubbing her legs together until Melinda stuck her hand between Ginger’s thighs. “Later, boss-lady.” She said, bending over to touch her nose to Ginger’s. “And try not to look down my top like that in public. Or doing this.” She pulled Ginger up and her tongue was almost down Ginger’s throat when their shared sense caught up. Hot images passed in quick succession, snippets of orgasmically naughty sounds mixed in. Ollie felt Penelope as she nearly come telling the Legate that her appearance that night had unfortunately had to be canceled, and her wetness at explaining the call to Melinda. Her hand working under her panties as she took the skins from her recently molted coworker and employer and her attempts to sound normal when telling the man at the preservation store why she needed them treated with the chemicals. Putting the skins and all the accessories she’d bought into her treasure box and then Ollie saw himself from the outside as she greeted him at the door and tackled him with all the pent up anticipation flooding through them. “This is going to be so much fun.” They said together, moving apart at exactly the same time.

“Isn’t it just?” Melinda laughed. “I’ve been planning this for so long. Ginger was planning to duck out of this one anyway so she didn’t even ask why when I said it was canceled. She hates these sorts of things, but I know exactly how to liven things up.” She pretended to tuck a fold of Ginger’s blouse in, but was instead reaching down into her skirt to squeeze her crotch. “So you know what to do?”

“Oh yeah.” Ginger said. She didn’t have to check the mirror; she’d seen how put together she looked through her PA-turned-advisor’s eyes. Long blonde hair perfectly set in a loose bun, breasts prominent but covered, slightly too short skirt covering everything and hose turning her creamy skin a pleasant tan color. “I know exactly what I have to do.” She stepped into the high heeled pumps Melinda offered and after walking around the room several times she gave up and with another long, passionate kiss, she felt how to move her hips and hold her feet. She left the house shaky but gaining confidence, too wrapped up in the pads and sexy woman’s skin to have any doubt that she was beautiful, powerful, and a woman from top to bottom. Especially bottom, she thought as she sat and let Melinda drive them to the bar she was to make an appearance in. Several cars with both reporters and bodyguards were soon flanking them, so she restrained herself with great regret from distracting her luscious driver by slipping a manicured hand under her skirt. Melinda’s restraint was so hard fought that she could almost feel it despite the air, clothes and two molted skins between them.

The drive gave Ginger time to settle into the skin and become aware of every part of it. Focusing on the sensation helped keep Ollie’s mind off of himself and how turned on he was every glimpse he got of Ginger in the side mirror or the bouncing of her chest when Melinda went over a bump. Her feet just felt like they were in tight socks and the skin was thin enough that she could feel how wonderful the pantyhose was when she rubbed her legs together. The air was on and the little bit of breeze down them made Ollie want to shave his legs when he got out of the skin and go buy a set of these wonderful leg coverings. Once she reached her thighs, she was unfortunately only able to feel the pads on the inside of the skin. How her larger butt squished when she shifted her weight on the car seat and the restriction on her male parts inside the femme briefs. What felt strangest about that were her inner thighs, though. Instead of closing on a cock and balls, she had a little bit of squishy flesh on the outside of her vulva. She didn’t want to think too hard about it because then she’d wonder how it would feel to have something inside there. Moving up swiftly and only briefly considering the restrictions of her skirt, she went to the much greater tightness around her middle. Ginger was a big girl, but not as wide around as Ollie and the waist cincher was a constant ache. Her big rack wasn’t much of a consolation since though they felt pleasant enough when they moved and looked fantastic, they just weren’t enough. Neither sensitive nor reactive to her touch, they were just … squishy and bouncy. He could get himself worked up about them if he wanted to, but they were easy enough to ignore sexually if not physically. They seemed to get in the way whenever she moved her arms and even with a bra they were so heavy! She knew she’d have to be aware of them so as not to push them the wrong way or let them bump into things. Being squeezed all along her arms was almost nice in comparison to her midriff, and she kind of liked the noise her nails made when they clicked on hard objects, though she constantly had to stop herself from biting them when they dug into her palm. As for her face … being reverse kissed by Ginger was interesting. Like having her lips always brushing against his but never touching enough to really get him going, and never transmitting anything. Like kissing a doll. He could almost imagine how nice it would be for someone who hadn’t grown up with the expectation of psychic intimacy, but for him touch wasn’t enough.

“Wake up, boss-lady!” Melinda said, sounding very amused at how Ginger had fell into a half sleeping meditation. “You don’t want your constituents to think you’re too tired for a little photo op.” Melinda bustled around the car to help Ginger out, acting as both PA and advisor for the night. “There will be some pictures first, but nobody here rates a handshake.” Melinda explained quietly. It was tortuously erotically transgressive having Melinda’s voice in his ear like this, her lips brushing his Ginger neck, just a little too familiar. Penelope looking, sounding, even acting like the slender backroom girl was driving Ollie wilder than it had when they’d been in private and she was still mostly Penelope. Keeping up appearances for herself had Ginger’s hidden member straining and she imagined it tearing itself loose and causing her miniskirt to tent out right in the middle of a photo, only being noticed after the flash had gone and the picture was on its way to a news organization. That image in her mind only made the feeling worse and Melinda had to hiss at her not to walk so much like a man. “It’s not time for that yet.” She reminded Ginger, who had been unconsciously making room for the anaconda she feared might spring forth at any moment. Forcing her legs together to walk with that hip swinging gait was agony and she hoped she wouldn’t be wetting her knickers this early!

The bar they were having the event in was a typical example of the ‘atmospheric’ type of place that was so common in the city. Hardwood floors polished by thousands of feet, a long bar with multicolored stools, a few circular tables. Most of the space was taken up with pool tables and a pinball machine in the corner. It was clean, well lit, and cozy. The sort of place friends go for decades and celebrate marriages, births, and eventually deaths until there’s a single hand shakily raising a mug and then that old dear who had so many memories stops coming and only the bartender – third generation – is left to give a round on the house to the friends’ children and grandchildren.

It was a great relief to be able to stop and greet the owner of the bar, who was immediately enchanted with how wide and genuine her smile was. “It’s a great pleasure to be here,” Ginger said softly, in a tone that meant it with every bit of herself. The owner had at first seemed merely pleased to have a Legate choose his tavern for her publicity appearance but with every word became more receptive and his own posture became natural rather than nervous at having her and the entourage there. “You’ve just sewn up a few votes.” Melinda purred over her shoulder. “Nice work. You’re doing almost as well as the real Ginger.”

“Let me introduce you to a couple of our regulars.” The owner was saying, and Ginger almost forgot about her maleness in the sudden onslaught of photo ops and introductions. She posed, holding a mug up while sitting on a bar stool. At first she kept her legs attractively crossed, but as the photos continued, she slowly relaxed and even flashed her underwear at least once. She tried not to let her breasts end up resting on the bar, but she knew she’d accidentally done it a couple times. Melinda was nodding encouragingly over the photographers’ shoulders so she knew she was going at the right pace, especially when no one looked at Melinda and the advisor stealthily squeezed a boob or licked her lips in anticipation. Ginger sipped the beer slowly, aware that the tight skin and tighter support garments would make her feel the effects more strongly. She was extra careful not to touch anyone, making sure that if they wanted a photo with their arm over her shoulder that she didn’t reciprocate. Her clothes would protect her, but if someone noticed that they weren’t getting a read despite her hand being on their clothing there might be trouble.

“Yes, I’m sure you do get some good tips…” Ginger way saying to a busty waitress – judging it the right time in the night to be able to look down her top without it going against their plan – when someone took her hand. Her heart went into her throat but then she saw it was Melinda, who she could tell was not laughing only because it would ruin their cover.

“The Legate is actually quite good at pool.” She said to the owner. “Not quite as good as me, though.” She winked and Ginger caught on that it was time to up their game.

“We’ll see about that,” she said with the tone politicians take when they want to compete but need to appear good natured about it. She had been enjoying herself and noticed acutely how nice her heels sounded as she clacked across the floor to the nearest pool table. “Oh, thanks!” She chirped to one of the regulars she’d been introduced to earlier as he swiftly set things up for their game. He tried to brush her hand as he handed her a cue, but she grasped it awkwardly to stop him and smiled in professional self-deprecation. “It’s been awhile,” she said sheepishly to the press.

Melinda took the first shot, leaving Ginger to try to be discreet as she watched her girlfriend in the skin of the graceful Melinda bend over in her high heels to level herself with the surface. Soon it would be her turn. Now that she knew why Melinda had kitted her out in such a short skirt, she was eager to put it to use again. The balls smacked against each other with authority and Ginger took Melinda’s place, though when she bent over there was a very obvious patch of bright pink visible – Penelope had wanted to make sure that everyone knew when Ginger was showing off too much – and the only think keeping her breasts from spilling out and brushing the green velvet was her tight blazer. They took several more turns as Ginger enjoyed the expanse of tight rear – smaller than she was used to seeing on Penelope, but cute – when it wasn’t her turn, and then ignoring how the snicks of shutters increased dramatically in frequency whenever she bent to line up a shot, acting as if they were only looking for action views and not the upskirt she gave them every time. Just to make sure they got the picture, she even started to take her time in lining up her cue, wiggling her rear and shifting back and forth to get a different view. It was hard to ignore even that backside alone – wide, round, with an invitation for a pinch that none of the onlookers dared to take. With the hot pink peeking out from between her legs, it was an irresistible sight to capture.

About ten minutes in, she was starting to line up when she rolled her shoulders. “Oh, this jacket’s so constricting.” She said with a hint of annoyance. Her fingers rested on the top button. “Wait! How about a friendly wager?”

Melinda knew what was coming but looked totally innocent. “What?”

“Strip billiards.”

“Ginger!” Melinda whispered loudly enough to be heard. “Think of the press.”

“Afraid you’re going to lose and end up in the newspapers instead of me for once?” Ginger grinned.

“No, I’m afraid you’re going to be naked in the front page tomorrow!”

“In your nightmares, Melinda.” Ginger held out a hand. “Let’s go.”

“All right, but you’ll regret it.” Melinda said in a tone that said her boss was making her humiliate her and it would be her job to fix it later.

Suddenly Ginger’s game seemed to deteriorate. She frowned prettily and bit her lip as miss after miss mounted up and soon she was shrugging out of the jacket. “Lucky!” She said impishly to Melinda, who sighed and gave the jacket to an assistant to keep for the Legate. Her boobs free, she pretended this made all the difference and won the next game, in the process also giving the photographers something new to focus on as those breasts threatened to lift out of her blouse and her lacy bra was exposed every time the cue slid through her fingers. Melinda kicked off her shoes, making herself even less of a target than before. She wasn’t bending as low or sticking her rear out as much, so now almost all eyes were on the Legate even when she wasn’t playing. Melinda won by a hair the next time and Ginger acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world not to take off her shoes or even hose but instead reach under her blouse – letting the cameras get a long look at her bare back – and unhook her bra. “Now I’m sure I’ll win!” She said.

Her nipples were quite visible through the sheer white blouse, and completely on show when she wasn’t careful in bending – and she rarely was. “Oh bother!” She pouted when they swung out and knocked her cue with every other shot. Her loss was more decisive this time and she was soon reaching into her skirt to carefully loosen and then shimmy out of her panties. Up until then Ollie had been very careful. He knew he was hard under the skirt, lingerie, and Ginger skin and every time she approached the table with her boobs jiggling, hips swinging, and heels clicking, Ginger had held herself tightly inside and kept from climaxing. The slow gyration of her hips and seeing all those people watching her was too much, though. Her dance grew more intense and she threw back her head, hair flying out of its bun and across the right side of Ginger’s face and she felt the hot juices spurt out and then flow through the channels in her femme briefs into the vake vagina and over her Ginger skin’s crotch. Her panties were dry when they touched the floor but she knew that Ollie’s cum was going to soak into her stockings. Her hidden member twitched to life yet again when she hooked the waistband of her discarded underwear with a heel and flicked it into her hand. “Here.” She handed it to Melinda, who didn’t need communion psychically to know what Ollie had just done.

The rhythm of the game entranced her and with her sexual appetite momentarily sated she began to forget herself again, getting into actually playing rather than making a good show of it. Her concentration was broken by how silent one of her shots had become and she realized the photographers were starting to stop paying attention despite the flashes of flesh she gave them every time she bent over. She’d soon fix that! Looking like she knew how to play was important, but keeping up the slow game of making the Legate expose herself more and more was the true reason. Her next turn was a particularly difficult shot, and so she did what she might have done as Ollie. Bending low, she raised one leg and rested it on the edge of the table, finding it slightly harder than usual to balance since she was in a high heeled pump rather than Ollie’s usual sneaker or work boot. However, the effect was immediate and the cameras were going at full tilt again, capturing the Leggy Legate showing off not a hint or a flash but the whole package. If this was where she stopped, it would be the picture in every tabloid in the nation, an excuse for even the most stolid journal to print a graphic – or in the cases of the truly stodgy, pixilated – image of a sexy woman’s exposed genitals in the name of covering the news. Of course she couldn’t stop!

She walked around the table one last time, her clicking heels and obvious sexuality torturing herself, Melinda – who was so turned on that she was behaving almost totally like Penelope now – and all those watching. With one last swing of her hips she acted as if her heel had caught on some tiny imperfection of the floor and toppled towards the table. Balls flew as it took her weight easily, but the damage to her image was complete. Ginger’s skirt rode up and several buttons on her blouse came undone, leaving her looking like a picture from a mens’ website: naughty girl on pool table. Her blonde trimmed Ginger vulva, glistening with Ollie’s semen, spent several seconds in the limelight before Melinda pretended to spring to the rescue and pull her skirt down, showing off not only her most intimate area but also how turned on she was at playing strip billiards in public. “I guess I’ve had enough!” She joked as Melinda frowned hard and helped her up, straightening her clothes as best she could and almost having to force her into her blazer. Ginger waved jauntily at the cameras. “I hope you all got a few good pictures out of this.” Since she wasn’t as worried about her behavior any more, she signed a napkin and pressed a lipstick kiss into it to give to the owner of the bar. “Thank you so much for letting us come here.” She beamed, knowing from his glazed expression and the bulge in his apron that a lot of people would be coming there soon.

“It was a pleasure. A great pleasure, Legate,” he said dazedly. “You’re welcome here any time.”

“Any time!” The busty barmaid called. “I got so many tips from this!”

Ginger wiggled her way back to the car and collapsed in the seat. When they were on their way, she smiled a tired but satisfied smirk and looked at Melinda. “Good?”

“Wonderful.” Melinda cooed. “Role play rewards tonight for sure.”

Ginger leaned back and – deciding the press wouldn’t expect anything less – allowed herself a couple of fingers to explore her fake sex now she has something inside to lubricate it. “Won’t Ginger be really angry?”

“Probably,” Melinda shrugged. “But she’ll cool off when she realizes it’s brought her tremendous popularity. It’s a scandal, sure, but not a political one. Her face – or some part of her – will be in every newspaper in the world tomorrow. A dick pic over the phone is sleazy, but a beautiful woman showing herself off and appearing not to even notice the people around her, that’s something completely different. There’ll be a censure in the legislature, maybe, and campaign commercials about the wanton in office, but those will only remind people that if they elect her to another term they might be able to see a tit or some vag in the newspaper again. It’s not often the political section gets to be more graphic than page three! Every old codger whose wife throws out his naughty magazines will want her just for the potential of being able to say ‘honey, I was just reading the newspaper.’”

Ginger giggled and brushed her hair out, holding it up in one hand and pouting at Melinda. “I hope she appreciates how much work I did to make her a celebrity.”

“Ew, you’re going to have to wash your hair when we get home.” Melinda laughed. “You’re getting spunk all over it.”

Ginger flipped open the passenger mirror and groped her breasts, sliding back and forth in the car seat with the bucking of her hips. The evening of erotic activity had helped forge more of a connection with her boobs which though they were still completely inert to sensation felt a lot more like the real thing when she squeezed. She lifted one out of her blouse and sucked a nipple, looking as innocent as she could through wide, soft eyes at Melinda. Penelope’s fake Melinda skin didn’t show anything, but she shifted in the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel harder. Trying to get even more of a rise, Ginger wrapped her fingers around the gear shift between them and ran her hand up and down over it, still idly sucking on her big, heavy boob.

Melinda gulped. “Are you trying to cause an accident?”

Ginger didn’t lose her innocent gaze but also didn’t stop giving a hand job to the car as she let her nipple fall from her mouth. “No,” she said sweetly. “If I wanted to do that,” she licked her lips slowly, “I’d be under your skirt and getting acquainted with my girlfriend’s new pussy. I know it’ll taste the same, but I’m sure the difference in texture will make it a completely different experience.” Melinda’s eyes grew wider as Ginger explained what she planned to do, and as the Melinda act evaporated and all that was left was Penelope in a sexy, exotic disguise, Ollie’s arousal grew and consumed him. The press cars and bodyguards left them and Penelope looked almost ready to orgasm just touching Ollie’s hand when she put the car into park. She was out the door and around the car before Ollie had disentangled the seatbelt from Ginger’s deep cleavage. She wrenched the door open and Ginger could feel the hot lust through the skins’ layers when their hands met, red painted fair with purple painted olive. Ollie almost tripped in the heels in their sprint for the door and they went down in a tangle of limbs on the hall carpet, Penelope kicking the front door closed just as their lips met. Ollie felt transcendent bliss and need through Penelope’s tongue, but for once it was his lust that overwhelmed hers and for a long interval they couldn’t move from the spot, too busy groping, touching, and trying to press together as hard as they could, smooth crotches grinding against each other and Ginger’s big tits squishing against Melinda’s smaller set. Melinda had hold of Ginger’s wide, round behind and seemed set on sinking the phantom erection Ollie was experiencing inside her. The kiss grew more passionate as their frustration mounted and both felt like Ollie’s penis was in two places – both inside and outside Ginger, but in neither case inside Melinda and Penelope. The pins fell from Melinda’s hair and her black mixed with Ginger’s blonde. Then they were up again and the bedsprings protested loudly with their impact.

Ginger’s clothes were quite loose already and Ollie didn’t remember how they came off, nor at what point Melinda escaped her own. The first clear moment came with Melinda straddled over him, hands on Ginger’s shoulders. Ollie could tell that Penelope was having as much fun with Ollie as Ginger as he was seeing Melinda acting like her. He reached out and their bodies melted together, intimacy focused in one location just like their grandparents, though in this case it was their mouths. Despite weighing the same and feeling like Penelope on the inside, Melinda was so different to hold and make love to. Her body was tight and small, with curves that Ginger’s fingers had to explore carefully to appreciate, like the little space made between buttock and thigh, or the wrinkle of skin on her hip. There were tantalizing hints of grokking in places where the two skins were thinnest, but not enough to do more than whet the appetite for more. Ollie didn’t need a psychic link to know that Penelope was having even more of an interestingly unfamiliar experience feeling up Ginger. He imagined what it must be like to know a male body so well that way and then have the chance to touch the same person only with a big chest, wide hips, and a lusciously squishy behind – not to mention having the face of her charismatic and beautiful employer. Then their lips met again and he didn’t have to imagine. He felt her hand enfolded under his Ginger butt, buried in his cleavage and stroking his matted hair. The strangeness of him having such soft lips and smooth skin. Then an image flashed and he knew they’d calmed down enough to do more than hungrily explore.

“Hey, I thought I was going to pretend my cock was a strap-on!” He said, seeing her burying one end of one inside herself and securing it with a stretchy thong.

“My boyfriend has a tight, new, fully penetrateable pussy. I’m not missing out on that!” Melinda crowed. Sex toys had been made that could – to a limited extent – transmit like the real thing, so now there were two places that their psychic presences met, though not immediately.

“Having fun?” Ollie asked dryly, watching Penelope as Melinda swing her hips and make her pretend dick flop around.

“Lots!” Penelope grinned. She crawled up the bed towards Ollie, who spread Ginger’s legs at Penelope’s gentle push. Penelope nuzzled Ginger’s belly and looked up at Ollie, who was craning Ginger’s neck to look back at her through the valley of Ginger’s breasts. “Ready?” She asked, stretching Ginger’s skin out with her teeth and letting it snap back onto Ollie’s corseted belly with a satisfyingly stinging slap. She inched her way up, letting her nose trail between Ginger’s boobs before she stopped with her lips on Ginger’s neck and her hands gripping the erect fake penis.

“Yes.” Ollie breathed.

“Are you sure?” She whispered, her lips trailing over Ginger’s and transmitting the barest tingle of anticipation.

“Come on, Pen!” Ollie laughed.

“I always wanted to do this to the boss-lady. Oh, and to you!” She quickly jerked her hips up and sent her strap-on all the way into the femme briefs’ passage. Her face slid up and Ollie experienced her entering him as she did it. She maintained tongue to tongue contact so he could feel everything from both sides, her familiarity of being penetrated from him and his experience of doing it from her while at the same time they both felt the opposite firsthand – not that either needed it. They’d been intimate so many times that there wasn’t much more to learn, though neither had ever had to do the maneuvering themselves. The scrape of the dildo over Ollie’s real shaft was stimulating, and he could tell that Penelope was having fun with the other end inside her, but the real sexual thrill was coming from doing what the other always did. Ollie learning from his experience with Penelope in how to use his legs to squeeze, and Penelope handling the rhythm of being on top. Penelope’s thrusts were weaker than his and couldn’t go as far in, and he couldn’t contract around her except by using his legs, which were soon otherwise engaged in being wrapped around Melinda’s middle so Ginger could keep Melinda inside her longer. To heighten the realism, Penelope’s toy squirted something into Ginger’s vagina when it was done.

“Now eating you out is going to be even better.” Melinda purred. “Your cum is nice, but it’ll be much better mixed with raspberry syrup.”

“Oh great, I have raspberry cum in my vagina.” Ginger deadpanned and held her expression for a split second before they dissolved into giggles and she squirmed and rolled until they were sixty-nine and Penelope could make it up to her by cleaning out the briefs with her tongue. That left Ginger with a face full of Ginger’s strap-on. Ollie didn’t feel like using Ginger’s hands, so instead he took the shaft in her mouth. “What are yoooouuu…” Melinda moaned. Ginger’s mouth was full of rubber and raspberry spunk so she couldn’t answer, only keep worrying at it with her teeth as her tongue transmitted that she knew what she was doing. Ollie got it partly out and then grabbed the elastic thong with her teeth and pulled on that until the toy was finally out and she could get at Penelope’s Melinda covered sex.

Both of them took their time in exploring, Melinda licking Ginger clean on the outside before letting her tongue run along Ginger’s sex as Ginger did the same to Melinda. Ginger had been right about it feeling both the same and different to taste Penelope in the droplets of cum leaking from inside her but also feel a different woman under her tongue. Every part of her was covered in a different texture, a slightly different shape, folds in different places and skin not quite the same smoothness. All of a sudden it was too much for her and she dove in, her impatience traveling through her tongue, into Penelope’s vagina and deep into her to make Penelope do the same. They mingled through Ollie’s mouth and her slit immediately and Ollie tasted the raspberry she was methodically sucking and lapping out of his Ginger parts. He felt her wry thanks at his thought that she tasted just as good, and then as their tongues went deeper he finally felt her on him and through him, the tip just reaching deep enough to brush across his penis, bound and hidden under a mound of female form. He had her to climax first, his male fatigue and the greater work it took for her to keep stimulating him making him the ‘woman’ in this for the first time. Eventually Penelope ran out of syrup to lap and before Ollie could process her thought she’d given up and with an impish smile shoved a vibrator inside him, turning it on with a flick of her wrist. The machine hum did what she couldn’t and she shared his final, paralytic orgasm with him with Melinda’s lips pressed to Ginger’s, her thought being sent to him just as he came that she liked having Ginger’s hips to hold on to.

“No, stay that way.” Penelope murmured, turning him around as she felt his desire to take the skin off. She hugged him tightly. “You’re so cuddly right now.” She nuzzled into Ginger’s shoulder grabbing a handful of boob and another of butt. “Aren’t I petite and huggable?” She asked, giving him a cute Melinda pout.

“Of course you are.” Ollie said, taking out the voice box. “I can tell you’re being squeezed though.” He gathered her into his arms as she took out her own voice changer and laid it down on the other nightstand.

“Yeah, but I want to be on the outside of the spoon for once.” She smiled. They were both tired and soon they drifted into a rare non-shared dream.

Ollie woke up and after trying to push away the weird pillows that seemed stuck to his chest, he opened his strangely heavy eyelids and remembered why his gut ached and everything else felt either cozily squishy or warmly bound up. Without a disguised girlfriend to distract him, he became enthralled in the fleshy bit between his legs and for a couple minutes he couldn’t stop pinching the fleshy mound above her pubic bone and rolling it around in her fingers. The rest of her body, though still very arousing, was familiar from her explorations the night before and a couple squeezes of a boob, running her long nailed fingers through her hair, and then wiggling them around in her Ginger slit was enough to wake her up and get her to thinking about what was next.

Penelope kept rolling around on the bed, letting out tiny grunts of annoyance as she grabbed at the Melinda skin and pulled on it, trying to escape what in her dream was probably something that had swallowed her. In particular, she kept trying to free her well bound breasts and get relief from the constriction holding in her marvelously round butt that was usually so much more of a handful. Ollie thought about waking her up by doing the same, but a glance at a newspaper that had been delivered through their mail slot gave him an idea. The front page featured multiple pictures of Ginger in her progressively greater states of undress, with the largest being what was sure to become a famous picture of her sans underwear and lying in a pin-up pose on the pool table. Seeing her from the outside for the first time, Ollie thought he made a damn sexy Ginger all laid out ready for someone to come along and take her home. In the background he saw Melinda and he was probably the only one who’d ever see that her expression said she wanted to do just that. Just seeing himself from last night, butt up in the air and nipples just brushing the pool table as she levered herself up and arched her back had him straining against the constrictive femme briefs.

Ollie slid out of the bed, growing warmer with the feeling of how much easier it was to slip through the sheets with Ginger’s smooth, soft skin. He giggled at himself ostentatiously tiptoeing to the bathroom and then ruining the silence by turning on the shower. Before he got in, pressure down below told him it was time to test something he’d been avoiding since Penelope stuck him in the Ginger costume. It was more inconvenient than anything else to use the toilet; he didn’t have a real woman’s plumbing, so all he was doing was pushing harder to get everything through a bent cock and some plastic tubes. He was going in the shower anyway, so when the dripping was mostly done, he got up and washed off, paying close attention to getting all the love out of Ginger’s luxurious blonde hair. For good measure, he used Penelope’s shampoo and conditioner, and even the hair dryer to get that authentic soft mane that he loved on women but usually was too lazy to try for himself.

Penelope was still sacked out – exhausted from the night before – and though Ollie felt tired too, he was keyed up enough to go on with phase two. If Pen had woken up, she’d have gotten a clean, happy, feminine boyfriend to have breakfast with and likely a few romps before it was time to go to work. For her ‘laziness’ she was going to wake up to something a lot more fun, Ollie thought, working the Ginger voice box under the skin of her throat. She hummed softly to herself and suppressed giggles as she flitted around the room, letting herself jiggle all she wanted and not caring that it made her back hurt.

Ginger was about the same size as Penelope normally was, so Ollie skipped using her real clothes and got some of Penelope’s professional outfit wardrobe. A set of lacy black lingerie, a knee length pencil skirt, the absolutely lovely feeling hose, a white blouse and a charcoal jacket. He thought about taking one of her necklaces, but it might be too obvious. Penelope seemed to know her jewelry very well. Ollie found a pair of black high heels that he could get his feet into for the short time he’d be wearing them and carried everything to the front door – it wouldn’t work to wear the same shoes he’d had the day before. He dressed quietly, lingering on letting the skirt whisper up his pantyhose covered legs, feeling his round rear end as he zipped up the skirt, and let his hands rest on his boobs for much longer than they had to as he put on the bra and buttoned the blouse. He thought that his legs looked wonderful in the hose and again thought about shaving and buying a set for normal wear. He didn’t know how to arrange a woman’s hair, so just let it stay loose. He applied as much day makeup as he dared - lipstick and mascara – and put on the shoes last. Teetering on the ill fitting high heeled pumps, Ollie went out the door, closed it, turned around, and started beating on it.

He had to go on for over two minutes before Melinda appeared, blinking blearily at Ginger and dressed in a robe sized for a much more buxom woman. “I should have guessed you’d be here!” Ollie said stridently. “Couldn’t even make it home after you destroyed me?” She pushed past Melinda – almost losing her balance again when her feet tried to come out of her shoes. “Where’s Penelope? I know she must have been the one there and you sleeping at her house makes me sure of it!”

“I – it’s not – I mean, she’s here but…” Penelope in Melinda’s skin sputtered.

“Still asleep after betraying me like that? I’ll go wake her up so I can fire you both at the same time.” Ollie scooped up the paper. “Look at this! It’s not like I’ll need a political advisor – even one as treacherous as you – when this is on every breakfast table in the country. Who paid you? Never mind, I’ll get it out of you when we’ve got Penelope here and you can explain yourselves together.” Ollie started back towards the bedroom, fighting between the need to swing her hips and focus on not falling out of the shoes while still acting like Ginger.

“Wait!” Melinda croaked, her voice box not in but also difficult to make out as Penelope’s after just waking up. She looked panicked and Ollie could guess her thought process. The last thing she wanted was for Ginger to barge in, find her copy naked on the bed and then shake ‘Ginger’ awake to find her talking with Ollie’s voice.

“What? Are you going to make some sort of excuse for her? You’re here! How can she not have been involved? Who else would have gotten my skin and who else would fit?” Ginger pushed her breasts up as exhibit A, wondering if that would give Penelope a clue.

“Well – I mean, she could have – what I mean is…” Penelope was at a total loss for how to explain anything and didn’t seem to notice Ginger’s slightly too sexual behavior. “Please! Try to calm down.”

Penelope was breathing hard, eyes wide, and looking like she might cry or pee herself in fear. Ollie knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer even if he could keep fooling Penelope. She just looked so vulnerable and frightened. “Calm down? After what you did, I’m going to… going to… do this!” Penelope squealed as Ginger leapt at her – and out of her shoes - but couldn’t get out of the way. Ollie got his arms around Penelope and before Penelope could register that Ginger’s bare hands weren’t transmitting, their lips met and Ollie’s tongue rammed into Penelope’s mouth.

“You … you … you!” Penelope gasped when they separated. She kissed him back just as hard and tasted his mind. “I’m a bad influence on you.” She giggled. “That was good! You really nailed it. I was going to do something nice, sexy, and considerate for you to pay you back for vamping it up last night as Ginger, but you can forget that now! You’ve been paid in full.” She crossed her arms, which moved just a little bit wrong as if they were expecting to meet her chest before they did.

Ollie left lipstick on Penelope’s nose with a short peck. “Good morning to you too, love. How I make breakfast while you get out of that? I know it must be squeezing you a lot.”

“Hey, that was going to be my offer this morning! Stop doing what I was going to do.”

“Were you going to pretend to be Melinda this morning and try to whisk me off to a press conference?” Ollie asked, knowing he didn’t have to.

“Well of course! Imagine how much fun it would be to get you all panicked about having to speak as Ginger on camera. I was going to have you petrified and then pretend like I always had a crush on Ginger.” Penelope looked down at her dark Melinda skin. “This is really tight, though. What about you?”

“I’ll keep the curtains closed and if someone knocks during breakfast, I’ll run and change.” Ollie replied.

“Okay, but take that silly voicebox out. It’s fun to pretend to have her coming on to me, but I don’t want to have breakfast with her.”

“Just me with her curves.” Ollie said, taking the voice changer off.

“Well yeah.” Penelope’s hand darted out and grabbed one of Ollie’s boobs. “I’m starting to enjoy squishy you.”

“We’ll have to do it again.” Ollie said as Penelope went into their bedroom.

Penelope gave him a last, sultry smile with Melinda’s face over her shoulder, her face half covered by Melinda’s dark hair. “Next time you can be the advisor and I’ll be the buxom boss.” She promised.

“As if you aren’t all the time!” Ollie shot back. He picked up the newspaper. “I wonder if Ginger will want someone to do photo shoots for her. She’s going to get offers and now that I’ve tried it, I wouldn’t mind being paid to pose for her – as her.”

Spooked – Part 1

By Paul Calhoun

“Hey look!” Marion Loquita said, pulling Benny Fitzpatrick along with her. Her boyfriend allowed himself to be taken away from a painting he was examining, knowing Marion wouldn’t stop until she’d shown him whatever she’d seen.

“What is it?” Don Fennis – almost always called by his last name - asked, following at a more sedate pace, his fingers and Lakshmi’s lightly touching as she joined him.

“It’s the missing exhibit!” Marion told them, leaning over the railing to get a closer look at the empty plinth in its poorly lit side room. It was surrounded with faded notices, a corroded bull’s-eye lantern and a set of rusty handcuffs next to a pile of wooden clubs with carved handles. Shoved even deeper into the corner was a battered credenza that was missing most of its varnish.

“Riveting.” Lakshmi Mungal replied.

“I remember seeing this when I was in school.” Benny said.

“It’s the only permanent exhibit in the whole museum.” Marion replied.

“Yeah, because a cookie cutter town like ours doesn’t have the money to actually own art.” Fennis said. “We just borrow it from museums that can afford to be generous. I think this pretty much sums up Brandifish in one sad, roped-off statement. Our only permanent exhibit is a dusty pillar surrounded by antique crime scene equipment and a desk from the Victorian era that looks like it was dragged in by the police and interrogated with a billy club. I’d almost forgotten about this silly corner and was better off for it.”

“My grandfather told me about it.” Benny replied.

“Most of us have grandparents who tell that story,” Fennis said, giving his girlfriend a squeeze. “Those of us who aren’t refreshingly new to the area.”

“So what’s the story?” Lakshmi asked, knowing it was expected.

“It’s the reason most of the museum is empty!” Marion broke in.

“Honey.” Benny put his hand on her arm. Marion loved museums, even the almost totally pointless one that Brandifish had never found a better use for. He loved keeping up with her, but Lakshmi preferred to have things set out in order. Marion rested her cheek on his shoulder and poked him.

“Fine, you tell the story.”

Benny cleared his throat and Fennis rolled his eyes. “About two hundred years ago – so our grandparents were telling a story that they heard from their own grandparents – Brandifish museum was actually considered a big attraction. The curator had done several tours acquiring artifacts and art for the British Museum among others and so was well liked and known among his peers. A lot of really good stuff spent time in Brandifish while their main museums were being renovated, or when something else was being shown.

“One of the biggest draws Brandifish ever had was when the Tiara of Teotihuacan was displayed – you can guess where this is going. People from all over the country came to see it. The tiara was a gold band with the most enormous jewels you can imagine stuck to it. They were likely set in it over time by the mercantile ruling families as a sort of prosperity icon, but the jewelers knew what they were doing and the arrangement was very well done. Anyway, the tiara was stolen and only some of the thieves were caught. One had the band itself and two of the smaller gems were recovered, but the rest vanished. They were probably set to meet up again years later to reunite the jewels so they could sell the tiara intact, but after the band was sent back I imagine the jewels were sold to collectors. Anyway, no one has ever admitted to owning one so it’s all conjecture after that.”

“Then there’s the rumor.” Fennis said. “That the robbers who weren’t discovered were local citizens – even the chief constable- who put the jewels in secret places around town so that their descendents could prosper. One of my ancestors was that constable and I know he always got the odd looks afterwards because of the stories.”

“I have a granny whose granny was supposed to have been in on it.” Marion agreed. “Pretty much everyone in town was suspect.”

“Mine was the curator.” Benny said. “Imagine the questions he had to answer.”

Marion was leaning over the railing again. “What’s in that drawer?” She asked, pointing at the desk. A small door in the side was partway open and yellow paper could be seen inside.

“I dunno. I think it was the curator’s, so probably something to do with the museum at the time.”

“Then why’s it still there?” Marion looked around. “I’m gonna look!”

“Hon – wait, hon!” Benny sighed as she scrambled over and ran to look. “I’m so glad this exhibit doesn’t have an alarm.”

Marion took the papers out and ran back with them. “Look!” She spread out the sheets. “What do you think they are?” She asked. Instead of an invoice or diary, it looked like each page had a kind of map with random letters and numbers next to them.

“I don’t remember ever hearing about these.” Fennis replied. “Nothing in school.”

“Guys, look at the drawer.” Marion said. She’d closed it on her way out and now the outline was almost invisible.

“No!” Benny said.

“What?” Lakshmi asked as Marion giggled.

“No, no, no!” Benny repeated.

When Fennis caught up, he smirked. “Why not? Maybe my great-something grandpa wasn’t very bright.”

“A secret drawer nobody ever found that opens-“ Benny checked his watch, “a week before Halloween containing map to a centuries lost treasure. I don’t buy it.”

Lakshmi laughed. “It sounds very contrived, doesn’t it?” She picked up one of the pages. “I’ll see if I can find out what this says.”

Fennis joined his girlfriend in laughter. “All right, I’m in.” He took one of the other sheets. “I’m not ending up with my girlfriend finding buried treasure all alone.”

“Afraid of becoming a kept man?” Lakshmi asked.

“Yes!”

Benny looked at them, and then bent to scoop up one of the maps at the same time as Marion. “All right, I’m in. But if we don’t find anything in a week we tell the authorities.”

“Done.” Fennis grinned.

“Treasure hunt!” Marion squealed.

“See?” Fennis said. “Isn’t it a good thing nobody ever comes here?”

Benny pored over one of the maps, knowing that the area it showed looked familiar but unable to quite place it. He’d found that each page included more than one location, so he’d focused first on the most obvious. It was surprising that any would be even remotely recognizable after two hundred years, but he was sure he’d seen something very like the map in its reddish tracery on yellowing paper. Thinking that if he’d seen it before that it must be readily available, he tried an image search and with some filtering was triumphant when he saw a map of the local cemetery pop up. It was obvious looking from the angular map on the page to the cemetery surrounded by streets that intersected at its corners that he’d found what he was looking for.

The legend on the side was a substitution cipher that was likely clever for its time but now could be solved with an online puzzle solver. “Well damn.” He sighed. The lines were a riddle or perhaps just a reminder written to confound police if they figured out the code:

‘This is wet and grassy. This is woody and wet. This is willow and alder when you squelch through the mud. What is?’

Rubbing his forehead, Benny stared at the words for a few minutes, then gave up and went to get dressed. He had a night out with Marion planned and didn’t want to be late because of a silly treasure hunt.

During dinner Marion kept fidgeting and tapping her chin. Finally after she’d stirred her food for over a minute in silence he said, “Is there anything wrong?”

Marion started guiltily. “No, nothing wrong.” She looked down at her now totally mixed up food. “I’m just thinking.”

“About the treasure?” Benny joked.

“Sort of.” Marion looked around. “I’m wondering about something and I’ll need to have a long look to be sure. How about we try again in two days. I’ll be fine by then. Promise!”

She’d almost run away after the goodnight kiss, leaving Benny to wonder if she’d already solved one of the puzzles. He took out his own map and pulled up the words on his computer. Wondering if it was some sort of general information reminder he tried plugging in some of the words. ‘Alder’, ‘willow’, and ‘mud’ brought up an article pretty quickly about geography. “Fens. But there aren’t any swamps near town.” He mused. “What is? Fennis!” He looked back at the modern map of the cemetery. “Great. So I have to grave rob one of my friends’ ancestors. At least it’s a mausoleum.” He thought about how all of Fennis’ family must be in there. “Didn’t he have an uncle who died recently? I really hope they do cremation these days. I do not want to have to wander around a charnel house so close to Halloween. Yuck!”

So the following night after work Benny found himself entering the predictably creaky cast iron gate of the Brandifish cemetery, a location with the unfortunate sign, ‘Brandifish Internment Facility: Duirt me leat go raibh me breoite,’ a subtitle that had just beaten out ‘Gone Fishing’ in the recent renaming after ‘Nevermore Rest: Non miserebor, sed terror nimus’ was decided by the town council to be too morbid. Benny looked around at the crooked trees, classical low fog, and jutting stones in the dim light of sunset and decided that the town council had evidently never visited the graveyard at night. As he turned on his flashlight, he wished he hadn’t either.

The smooth gravel path and recently mowed grass showed that the cemetery was well tended, but it still scared the willies out of Benny to walk past the mixed granite and limestone markers. The newer ones were tolerable, mostly just simple oblongs with names, dates, and a bland epitaph. Those installed in the last couple years could be creepy with their pictures of the deceased in 3D that turned to watch him pass. The oldest – and nearest his goal – were the worst. They were made when it was popular to put pointing fingers and the skeletal angel of death on the slowly melting stones. The letters were mostly gone, but the winged skulls remained. Their gaze was fixed but far more menacing, a truer depiction of what the stones guarded than the kindly regard of the still mostly alive. Some glared, others were impassive, but all seemed to condemn him for his planned disturbance of the rest that those below shared.

Benny stopped well away from the hulking stone construct whose door led down into the catacombs the Fennis family had begun building generations earlier. Fennis himself wasn’t really old money, but his ancestors had been wealthy enough to have their own private place built and maintained so that they and theirs would never have to share earth with anyone else. It wasn’t the thought of opening that door and descending into the mortuary abyss that terrified him – it did – but something much more immediate. Standing on a plinth on one of the biers between him and the steps of the Fennis burial chambers was a statue. Female, wearing flowing robes and with a pair of small wings on her back. Unlike many of the statues that dotted the graveyard, she wasn’t looking up to heaven in hope or down in compassion to the visitors. She stood with her palms pressed to her face, hiding her features. Benny hoped there was nothing behind them, but in this place with no one but him and the neat rows of the dead as witness it was easy to begin to believe in monsters. Even ones made up for television shows.

Benny watched the statue for a long time but it didn’t move. Of course it wouldn’t. Even if it was a fictional alien chronovore, it wouldn’t just jump down at him. He had to pass first. Feeling like he was passing through the gate of Minas Morgul and with only a weak lamp rather than the reflection of a silmaril to drive the shadows back, Benny rushed past, feeling the gaze of the angel through its hands and into his back. He hurried up the steps and shined the light on the door. ‘Fennis’ was carved into the stone and there was a large, somewhat ornate iron lock holding it closed. As he was looking at it, he heard grinding and a loud thump. His heart pounding in his ears just as loudly, he turned around.

The angel was off her pedestal and turned towards him, though he’d heard the screech of stone on stone as he turned and her palms were again on her eyes. She was totally still then, not fidgeting, swaying, or even breathing. Just there. Silent and waiting for him to make a mistake.

Benny considered his position. If he waited too long, he’d blink hard enough that she’d make a move. If he turned and ran she’d catch him easily if she was what she looked like. He looked back at the door to check the lock and cursed himself as he turned back and she was a few steps closer. The face was now uncovered, tooth-filled mouth agape and ready to feed. Her hands were claws, a single jump away from rending his flesh or casting him through time. Even if he got into the mausoleum and closed the door she’d be on him before he could get to the bottom of the stairs. Escaping one was impossible, he reasoned, but he’d never seen anyone try to go straight for one. He’d seen them shot at, yes, but they were quantum stone-stuff and impervious. Could a Weeping Angel be tipped over? Benny took a deep breath and grinned desperately. Time to find out!

The moment he launched himself down the stairs he knew he’d made a mistake. The angel flinched! With a sound of grinding stone, she moved her arms despite him looking right at her and tried to step aside. He was on her before she could turn and bore the strangely light stone statue to the ground. He heard her rough rocky body strike the gravel in a satisfying crash and the grind of her extremities against herself. She felt rough to his touch, like sandstone or slate. She was also letting out a low moan. Definitely not a quantum chronovore. The adrenaline cleared Benny’s mind and he realized how silly it was that he’d just tackled an animate statue. Her legs kicked ineffectually under him, apparently unable to clear much of her stiff molded robe as she reached behind her back to try to touch him. Her middle appeared solid so her squirming was limited to her extremities.

Benny got up and looked at the prostrate monster who was now rocking back and forth an attempt to get onto her back. Turning her over, he saw a wide crack in her face. The blank stare flickered momentarily to a sharp-toothed snarl so quickly that she was either a Weeping Angel or her face was some kind of projection. She tried to push him away as he pulled at it, seeing white and green wires underneath the smooth screen-like visage as well as the glimpse of a green eye wide in panic. One of the wires sparked and he snatched his hand back.

The angel touched the side of her head and the whole face pulled up – jerkily as the wires sparked – into her scalp. Blonde curls burst out and Benny was confronted with a familiar face. “Uh, hi sweetie. Surprise?” Marion said, smiling weakly out from the stone hair and neck. Her cheeks were red and she had a pleading ‘aren’t I silly’ look of submission, one that he’d only ever seen once before when he’d caught her trying to ride the washing machine. She rocked, but couldn’t seem to sit up. Her body appeared too rigid. As he got up, she held out her hand and he grasped it, feeling how rough it was. Had he taken the time to touch the statue on his way past, he would never have guessed it was his girlfriend in a costume. She was extremely heavy and he was sweating when she finally got her feet – carved to look bare – under her.

When she was standing and had brushed the worst of the dirt off, Benny tilted his head. “So?”

“So, uh … I guess we solved the same map, huh?” She rubbed the back of her head and they both winced at the sound.

“I guess we did.” Benny crossed his arms. “Why the angel act?”

“Well, I didn’t want anyone else to go in!” She smiled weakly. “I didn’t expect you’d be the first to arrive after me.”

“You’re silly. Are you dressed under that?”

“Of course!” She said, booming as she put her hands on her hips.

“Then take it off. I’m taking that home with me so you don’t give anyone else a heart attack.”

“Spoilsport!” She gave him a whack that sent him sprawling. “Sorry! I forgot how strong this makes me.” She pressed on her chest and the costume opened up along her middle. She climbed out of the mechanical innards and grinned as she stretched her lycra bodysuited form. “Time for bed. Good luck dragging that thing home!” She laughed and skipped off, leaving Benny to try to pick up the powered costume. It was as heavy as it looked and when it almost fell on him, he knew he’d never be able to move it on his own. He thought about closing it up and leaving in the graveyard as the sculpture it appeared to be, but he was curious and afraid of what might happen to it.

He took a break to look inside, feeling the soft black pads in between the many shiny metal contacts that tracked the movement of the person inside. Behind them was a scaffold on which the stone skin had been attached and wires running the length of the costume. Looking around to make sure Marion had left for sure Benny did the only thing he could think of and climbed in, feeling a tiny thrill at dressing up as a female monster. He was slowed by the thick padding and tight confines, though at least it was so heavy that he could jump up, put both legs in and let himself slowly sink into it.

The inside was mostly warm after his girlfriend’s recent exit, though some of the metal plates that pressed against him had cooled. It was a tight fit since he wasn’t her size and he felt a pang of panic when the chest closed and he felt like he was being squeezed by a giant robot hand. At that thought, he considered how the costume felt and was relieved that the soft, padded inside kept him from being harmed by being a walking piece of sculpture. He felt something in the mechanical gloves, a click when he moved certain fingers. Nothing seemed to happen, so he focused on getting away. Afraid of what would happen if he lowered the mask, he snuck – if that could be applied to a heavy chunk of female shaped stone that crumped against the ground with every step and scrrrched whenever her arm brushed her body. Mercifully he found his way home without being noticed.

At home and safe, he checked himself out in the hall mirror. But for his face, he looked exactly as Marion had when she was in the suit. He looked at his dainty seeming hand and extended a bare, feminine foot. Putting a hand on his hip with a squeal of stone on stone, he thought he made quite the striking female monster. “Why hello there, ghastly.” He said in a southern twang, touching his chest. “Care to show a ghoul a good time?” The touch opened the suit and he climbed out.

He closed it up and lowered the mask, still intrigued. It looked so ... stony standing there in the middle of his living room, now in a relaxed posture. He ran out and came back with electrical tape. It wasn’t hard to fix the broken wires and fill the crack in with black clay which made it look like the angel had lost a chunk of her face across her left eye. With the wire fixed, the mask moved more smoothly and didn’t flicker between expressions. On a hunch he struggled with the fingers of one hand and found that when he bent some the expression changed from blank to monstrous.

Satisfied with his work, he went to bed, wondering first why his girlfriend had decided that scaring people off was a good idea and then where she’d gotten the costume. The second question followed him into his dreams and was his first thought when he woke up.

“Have a nice day!” Benny said.

“Um, I don’t think you’ve started, dear.” The elderly lady on the other side of the counter said.

“Oh, sorry!” Benny began scanning and bagging her clothes.

“Long day?”

“Sort of.” Benny smiled and gave her the receipt. He’d been distracted at work, thinking about the costume store on the other side of the shopping center. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d ever paid attention to before and when he’d glanced at it Benny had assumed that the mannequins in the picture window were just that. Now he was thinking that maybe the attractive and scary figures were merchandise and that it might be where Marion had gotten that incredible angel outfit. He rushed through handing over the register to his replacement, Holly, and felt himself trying to run out. Benny swallowed his anticipation and forced himself into a measured pace towards the wide windowed store front. There was a popular superhero on display that day, next to a Victorian woman and a robot. From far away he might think they were cardboard cutouts, illustrations that the cloth and plastic the shop sold wouldn’t live up to. After seeing and feeling the transformation from human being to animated celestial golem he was willing to be more open minded.

Benny’s expectations were again defied as he opened the door expecting either a very large and open floor plan made bright by the wide windows and high lights or perhaps a cramped and dusty corridor of shelves going back to a dingy desk with a single mysterious person at the register. Instead it was more like a car rental with one long counter just inside and a pair of young ladies who looked like twins. One had her coppery red hair down her back while the other was in a more fashionable short style. “Hi!” Piped the long haired one. “Welcome to – well we haven’t really decided on a name yet.”

“The sign outside said ‘Any2Any’” Ben replied.

“Really?” She turned to her sister. “Sounds like your idea.”

“It does.” The short haired one replied. “In that case, welcome to Any2Any. Who or what do you want to be?”

Benny’s mind worked hard but there was still an awkward silence. “What are my choices?”

“Animal, vegetable, mineral, or thing.” Long smiled.

“Or something else!” Short added.

“Done while you wait.” Long continued.

The suspension of Benny’s disbelief broke and the bridge from reality to fantasy fell into the river of his doubts. “Right. How about this then?” He took out his phone and showed them several pictures of his girlfriend Marion. “I want to be her. Can you do that while I wait?”

“Will you stop waiting in five minutes?” Long grinned.

“Uh…”

“Be right back!” Short assured him. She ducked through a door the same color and texture as the rest of the wall behind her. There was a faint sound of a thump and then an odd machine screeching that went up and down in volume and pitch, interspersed with an odd pinging.

“We get that request a lot.” Long said conversationally.

“What?” Benny asked, distracted by the noise.

“Wanting to be a partner. She’s your girlfriend, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Benny shook his head. “Was she in here yesterday?”

“I couldn’t answer that.”

“Confidentiality?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

Short reappeared with a long box. “Here you go.” She hefted it onto the counter. “How much were we charging?” She asked her sister.

“Eh, it’s Halloween. Fifty bucks.” Long told Benny.

That was either a huge amount for a joke or a ridiculously low price for something amazing. He thought of the angel statue. “Twenty,” he haggled.

Long rolled her eyes. “Fine, but the next one’s a hundred.”

Benny put the money down. “How do you know there will be a next time?” Benny said, finding the box heavier than he expected.

“Trust me. I know.”

Benny had to admit one thing to himself as he loaded the costume box in his car. He’d expected a strange or mysterious person behind the counter and he’d gotten both. When he got to his house he made dinner, still not really believing what was happening. He placed the box next to the statue that nobody would guess was filled with electronics and pads. The two costumes called to him as he ate, making him want to rush through and put them on. He again had to work to slow down, forcing himself to experience something normal before he again dove into the bizarre. Knowing he wouldn’t taste dessert even if he’d had the patience to eat it he dragged the box into his bedroom and opened it.

He knew what he was supposed to see, but his expectations were low and so when he saw what looked like his girlfriend lying in the box he couldn’t help jumping back before sheepishly picking up the somewhat empty fleshy costume. If nothing else it would be a fantastic sex aid, he thought, stroking the smooth cheek. He turned it around and the suit fell open at the waist. The inside was less padded and more tightly packed but between the skin layer and the stretchy liner his fingers closed on wires and knobbly electronics. Removing his clothes, he touched himself with the skin’s hand, letting the empty girlfriend costume caress his skin. Her lips were full and begged to be kissed. He obliged and then let the empty mouth brush across his chest and belly. His enjoyment was interrupted as he went to finger her and found a mass of machinery surrounded by squishy stuff. He recoiled from disgust and realized that he was fondling a costume, though one that felt amazing as he got the mask to close its lips over him. Again feeling a little ashamed of himself, he fought down the conflicting feelings he had and tried a frank assessment of the costume’s appearance.

Starting from the top, he thought, they did the hair perfectly. Loose curls, shiny, almost an unnaturally perfect shade of cornflower blonde. Her face was a little off, looking like it was permanently made up with the heavy foundation she used to cover her freckles when she thought he was likely to take a picture of her. It made sense since what he’d provided had been photos of her. Her wide sea green eyes and nose a little longer than she liked were faithfully replicated, as was the brown mark on the side of her neck where she’d had a mole removed. If there was anything wrong with her breasts, he couldn’t feel it, though her arms felt a little too smooth. She’d fought against having hairy arms, but always ended up with downy fuzz. Her nails were painted pink, as were her toenails. The rest of her body seemed good, if sometimes slightly curvier than he remembered and definitely lacking her pubic hair and the patches she missed while shaving. He put the curves down to the pictures being of her in her most flattering evening dresses – he enjoyed them and she’d made him delete pictures of her in a bathing suit or just sitting around in jeans. He’d secretly kept them but not on his phone. He gave the butt a squeeze and got down to business.

He lay down to put his feet in, the costume feeling tight though not tight enough. He could already see his thighs through hers, turning her slender legs into drum sticks. Feeling silly, he wiggled his feet in and stood to pull it up. There was a pouch for the obvious which he used and then the suit was up over his hips and he was struggling to figure out how to get both hands and his head in at once. He might not look like Marion, he thought in consolation as he felt the weight of the squishy chest sliding over his, but at least when this was over, but he would have a nice pair to play with and a large female body to look at as he did so. He’d be Marion’s heavier sister, really. A resemblance worth enjoying.

He had to pull the hair out of his eyes – the lenses had retracted as he pulled the mask on – several times, then it was on and he was pursing his lips to get the mask to stick to them. As he pulled the belly down over his he couldn’t help giving his new rack a test squeeze. Though he couldn’t feel all the texture through the suit gloves, they felt nice. His body felt constricted and the electronics were hard on his skin and a little cold as they absorbed his body heat.

“So now what?” He said, disappointed when his own voice came out of the soft pink lips. He went into the bathroom to look in the mirror and was confirmed in his belief that he looked like a fat Marion. Though the pads at least made him look female in it, there was too much of him in her to be believable. He saw a crease in the belly, smoothed it out and found a catch in the navel which he took a minute to figure out turned a tiny bolt that held the belly to the hips. It wouldn’t come off if he moved around, which was nice because he wasn’t quite ready to take it off.

The catch snicked and then the electronics whirred. Then the squeezing became tight, acute, painful. He staggered to the bed and lay down to let it happen, already giving up on trying to operate the finicky latch with unfeeling fingers and semi-blind eyes. He moaned, hearing his voice change, and then he felt the sheets under his back. The stuff in between his legs climbed up and pressed on the pouch, pushing his penis further into his body cavity. The gel wrapped around him, softening his flesh while the liner tightened across it. The lenses fell over his eyes and when he blinked they went in like contacts. Her eyelashes were thick and heavy with the pre-applied makeup. Her hair was soft and a little prickly against her back and over her nipples, which were beginning to tingle and make her wet. She sat up, her boobs shooting tiny jolts through her as she grabbed them to keep them from sliding around. She got her feet on the carpet and stumbled, dizzy, disoriented and off balance to the bathroom. Marion looked back at her as she leaned on the sink, her mouth slack. He wanted to reach out, grab her around the waist and ask what was wrong as he tickled her. Instead she touched herself between her legs and flushed at the slight stickiness that came away as she put her fingers inside herself and then took them out. If she thought about it, she could feel Benny inside her, but mostly she just felt Marion. “Holy mackerel bones.” She said. She giggled at Marion’s voice saying one of Benny’s pet exclamations.

She put her hand behind her head, turned to look over her shoulder and pouted at the mirror, pushing her hair up into a loose up-do. “Damn I’m hot!” She said. She ran back into his bedroom and flopped down on the bed, hugging herself and closing her eyes. She rolled back and forth, unable to contain the joy at feeling and embracing her own body. Then she began moving up and down to massage her boobs on the sheets. Opening her eyes wide, she rolled onto her back and spread her legs, finding that she didn’t have enough hands to touch, stroke, squeeze, and grope every part of her that she wanted to all at once. “Oh, Benny!” She sighed. “Oh, you’re so big. You fill me up all the way! I love you, I want you. Take me, Benny, take me!” Her voice turned to a shout and then she fell back, momentarily feeling Benny inside her pumping and twitching and then seeing his cum leaking out of her vagina. She sat up, grinning and already feeling herself up again. “See, hon? I told you I loved you for you! I love you so much that I even love being you.”

She stood and went to clean herself up. Even that was sexual in her fresh, unfamiliar femininity. “This is ridiculous.” She laughed. “Everything I do is sexy.” She tapped her chin and smiled. “Of course, I always thought that about Marion – myself.” She laughed again. “I guess I should start talking like I’m me, huh?” She regarded herself in the mirror, posing and turning to watch her naked body move. “I shouldn’t abuse this. I’d hate to get too used to it.” She reached for her navel and paused. “Of course, that stone death house is probably haunted.” She tapped her chin again, trying to act like Marion. “I – Benny me – don’t want to have spooks after me my whole life. And I – Marion – was a naughty girl scaring me – B – I get it!” She shook her head and then had to smooth her hair back over her ear. “It would serve me right to have ghosts come after me after what I did to me. So there!” She stuck her tongue out at herself. “I’m going in looking like me so that when I run out with that diamond the ghosts will haunt me instead of me. I think.” She put her hands on her hips. “That and because I look way too good in a sexy adventure outfit not to go out in one.”

Marion had bought the adventure costume the previous Halloween, but Benny had seen her regularly in it since then. She’d noticed how much he liked it and left it at his house so she could occasionally slip into it before he got home and surprise him. It was in the corner of the closet she’d taken for when she stayed over. She opened the plastic chest of drawers she’d bought and took out a pair of pink satin panties and rubbed them against her cheek. Needing to watch every moment, she took everything she needed into the bathroom so she could see herself in the mirror. Marion didn’t mind strip teases, but hated it when he watched her get dressed for some reason and Benny felt like a voyeur as Marion stepped into what felt like the most feminine thing she could wear, pulling them up slowly so she could feel the material against her legs before the waistband encircled her and the satin whispered against her labia and butt, clinging and whispering promises she could now keep and enjoy at the same time. She was bright red, feeling supremely transgressive at not only dressing in Marion’s clothes but passing for her as she did so. It was the penultimate invasion, surpassed only by somehow inhabiting her real body. Benny wanted to take Marion back to the bed and start the self-pleasure all over again.

She surpassed her desire by focusing on figuring out how to get into the lacy bra, vainly attempting to clasp it behind her back before finally realizing she could clip it in front and turn it around. Again she felt the transgressive thrill at wearing the very items that drove the boyfriend inside crazy and even letting her watch him do it like the real Marion never would. The Marion here had no choice but to titillate her boyfriend because no matter what she did, he was there not just watching but deciding. She was breathing hard as she pulled the black belly shirt over her head, shrugged into the khaki bolo jacket and tugged the matching short shorts up over her rear, letting herself swim in the feeling of the shorts tight on her thighs and clinging to her behind. She slipped on the calf skin ankle boots and accustomed herself to the kitten heel, trying out different gaits and doing all the things Marion did to get Benny in the mood. She swung around, her hair floating in the breeze and smiled at the mirror. “I love you, Marion. And I love you, Benny.” She answered herself, playing with her bared belly as if Benny might decide to burst from the suit right there.

She had to take the boots off and put them in a carrier bag when she’d gotten used to them. Since she had Marion’s body, she reasoned, there was no reason she shouldn’t wear the angel statue just in case someone else was going to the graveyard that night. She looked at Benny’s phone as a text came in from Marion. ‘Gonna be late.’

She once again felt that naughty glee at using Marion’s nails to tap out the message back. ‘OK. Let me know when.’ She slipped the phone into her back pocket, patting the place where it stood out in start relief from the fabric, proof that the shorts had been filled perfectly.

The angel suit went on more easily now that the constriction was being achieved by the Marion costume. The pads enfolded her, made to fit the body Benny now wore. She reached into the gloves, feeling the feedback from the machines as they made the stone covered lattice move with the curl of her finger. She touched the chest and it closed around her smoothly and with the time to think about it she was impressed at how every piece moved with a tiny amount of resistance as the costume predicted her motion and the motors helped her swing the stone arms and legs. She lowered the mask and saw that the screen on the outside was replicated inside, projecting the world around her with a tiny bit less fidelity than she herself would have seen it. She checked the hall mirror and found the combination of finger curls that turned the blank face evil. Returning it to impassivity, she put on the shoulder bag and left the house, wincing at how the door slammed at her causal push.

Her body ground against itself and her feet made loud scratching sounds on the cement along with the booms of her footfalls. It was too early to rely on there being no one in the street, so she made a game of checking to make sure there was no one nearby and going from yard to yard, standing perfectly still as groups passed and then making progress again after they’d passed, her bag tucked behind her. Some looked at her strangely, either having seen the tail end of her hurried arrival on the grass or wondering when the angel had been bought and put on a familiar lawn. One child – less willing to disbelieve in walking statuary – tugged her parent’s sleeve. “Mommy! That statue moved!”

The costume didn’t interpret fidgeting as intentional motion, so it was easy for Benny to stand absolutely still as the mother glanced at her and then pulled her daughter along. “Come on, honey. It’s just your imagination.”

“But mom!” The girl’s mother had turned away and Benny waved. “She just waved at me.”

“Gardenia! It’s just a piece of rock shaped like a person. It’s not a real angel.”

“But-but…”

“I know it’s creepy, but we’re late.” She took another look at Benny, who had gone back to her pose of mute supplication, hands clasped in front of her. She stared for a long moment. Benny realized her hands were in a slightly different place than before, nearer her belly than her chest. “Let’s go.” She said doubtfully. Benny waved again as they left and the girl hesitantly waved back.

The sound of her footfalls drowned out her quiet giggles, but didn’t dampen her rising need to have a little fun before she got down to business. She got her opportunity when she had to stop for a pair of young men passing and one came right up to her to look. “Hey, do you remember this being here?”

“Dude, I don’t usually pay attention to lawn ornaments.”

“I don’t think it was here yesterday, man.”

“So?”

“Then why’s it got that big crack in its face?”

“I dunno, maybe the guy who owns it bought it at a garage sale.”

They were both looking closely at her now and she twitched her fingers to change her face from plain to monstrous for a half second. They both jumped back. “Dude! Did you see that?”

“Yeah, spooky.” The second one reached out and she grabbed him. He screamed and tried to break away but her augmented grip and weight held him fast. “Help!” He called to his friend, who was already running away and screaming about murderous statues at the top of his voice. Benny stooped over her prey, letting him struggle against her golem grip. She switched to her hungry, fierce face and loomed until he was red with panic and then let go, taking one loud step towards him as he made his escape. He ran after his friend, as likely to clobber him as help spread the word. Benny wasn’t far from the cemetery and made a quick dash for it, her stone skin squealing at the sudden burst of speed as she tried to pull up her skirts and then laughed at herself for forgetting they were as static as her chest and belly. A pity. She was actually quite the attractive angel when she wasn’t scaring the pants off of someone and she wouldn’t mind having a little more action in those places.

The graveyard was as creepy as ever, but this time Benny felt like she belonged. Just another broken monument, a lost soul walking among the markers and contemplating her next life. As the sun set, she pretended to stop at each headstone to kneel – though the best she could do was give a little curtsy since if she knelt she’d fall over – and clasp her hands in a benediction. She made her way in that fashion to the steps of the mausoleum and it was there that she remembered the important fact that the door was locked. The metal screeched as she passed her hand over it and she jumped back at the unexpected noise of her stone fingers on the old iron. She looked around to make sure no one had heard and saw someone coming. Afraid of what might happen if she was caught lurking there, she pressed her winged back against the mausoleum wall and pretended to be a guardian of the door, immediately regretting her pose with one arm out in warding since it meant that she couldn’t rely on the mechanism to keep it steady. The person came closer, angling straight towards the death house and Benny went from nervous sweat to relief and evil joy. Lakshmi was coming, flashlight in hand.

Benny stood and waited for her to come near, knowing that Fennis’ girlfriend must have figured out the riddle and come looking. When Lakshmi was at the door, Benny turned in place and raised her arms, her fingers bent into claws and her face transfigured into hunger and death. Lakshmi looked up at feeling that something had happened just out of view and saw the motionless Benny. She opened her mouth but at first nothing would come out. The flashlight fell from nerveless fingers and then she ran, spurred on when her first dash was met by Benny lunging at her, the angel’s hand striking the iron door behind her. Time seemed to slow down as her hand struck the metal.

The hand flashes brightly and Benny feels like it’s caught on fire. She can see the sparking wires poking out as well as her own hand where the stone layer has cracked and fallen off. She spares a quick look to make sure Lakshmi has gone before she taps her chest and clambers out. A glance convinces her that neither Benny’s real skin nor her smooth Marion flesh has been harmed and though the glove has stopped sparking she decides it’s best to abandon the angel suit. She seals it up so it looks for the most part like a statue, though one with green and white wires sticking out of a broken hand. Hopping from foot to foot, she put on her soft ankle boots and opened the now broken door.

Had Lakshmi not dropped her flashlight Benny would have had to give up immediately. She’d forgotten hers in the heady rush of becoming Marion and laughed at herself for bringing a shoulder bag exclusively for her sexy boots. The Fennis family had been forced to build several underground vaults for their various generations and the door to each was heavy, stone, and mercifully labeled. It was the leftmost and oldest that Benny wanted; a portal already ajar. She squeezed through and began descending the stairs. The stairs were a colossal helix around the biers and sarcophagi occupying the floor in the center, with columns stretching from that floor to the ceiling she was coming from. Benny could see between them and slowed as she realized that hers was not the only light there. In the midst of the tombs was a lantern.

The rays of the lantern illuminated and pierced the bones of the skeleton standing beside it. The corpse must have been one of those interred nearby since the skeleton was yellow with age and missing some of its teeth. It was bent over something Benny couldn’t see, intent. Every so often one of the bones would strike another with a hollow, appropriately dead wooden clack.

Benny stopped entirely and watched in fascinated horror as the skeleton produced a skin costume like the one she was wearing and started to put it on, the fleshy suit covering the naked bones and giving them the semblance of vital life. Even from that distance Benny could tell that the face of the mask hanging on the skeleton’s now well endowed chest was Marion’s, a face which covered the skull as she – it shrugged Marion’s skin over its shoulders and grabbed the hair to duck inside. The costume must have had lenses like Benny’s since Marion straightened up and blinked, her face impassive and wide eyed as the skeleton made the final adjustments, looking a little shocked perhaps at going from dead to living so quickly. As it straightened up, her shoulders pressed together and the skin held, leaving a line that Benny wouldn’t have seen if she wasn’t looking right at it as it closed. Benny started to back up, ready to run when the door behind her slammed shut with a sound like a cannon firing. She gulped and stumbled down, the only direction she could go. She had some idea of attacking her double, but wasn’t paying attention and found herself passing out with something pressed to her mouth.

Benny woke up wondering first why he felt like he was being squeezed all over, then where he was after she remembered putting on the Marion suit to investigate. She felt something rough and cold across her back and down her legs and opened her eyes to see Marion bending over her, dressed in the sexy adventure costume. Benny felt a mixture of desire for the girl who was gently stroking her cheek, disappointment at missing being stripped naked by the Marion imposter while she was unconscious, and horror at the realization of her predicament. She was also becoming aware that she was not just tied up buy lying on something that stuck into her back and between her buttocks, making a very uncomfortable bed for her to be trapped on. The skeleton Marion seemed to be teasing her, almost but not quite mounting her as it saw she was waking up.

The skeleton now dressed as Benny had been straightened and grinned, showing the yellow teeth of the skull beneath. She flicked her hair back and mocked her victim, “Good morning, beautiful. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your clothes.” She laughed cruelly. “I’m sure your boyfriend won’t. He probably won’t even notice, and he’ll definitely appreciate having a much better lover.” She winked, squeezing her breast and sighing with delight. “I haven’t had a good roll in the hay in centuries, so you can imagine that I’m going to be quite appreciative.” It saw Marion staring at her face and clapped a pink nailed hand to her cheek. “Oh, I almost forgot! Thanks.” She reached into a crevice and took out a set of white tooth caps. “I need to be able to give my Benny a winning smile.” She said, flashing the now white teeth. She pushed her breasts up and ran her hand over her tight bum. “Especially since I’ve decided to put on something like this for him. He’s going to have a very special night and an even more amazing rest of his life. I appreciate my new body a lot, thank you.”

“You – I –“ Benny struggled for words as she fought the rough bindings keeping her wrists behind her back.

“Oh, don’t be sad.” The skeleton dressed as Marion patted her belly. “I’m sure you’ll rot away enough to get out of there in a few years and maybe one day some silly bint will come down here and you can have her life.” The undead impostor kissed Benny’s forehead and minced out, her blonde curls bouncing along with the rest of her body. Throwing a, “Bye!” over its shoulder, it closed the door, plunging Benny into darkness.

“Your brain’s rotted out.” Benny murmured, pulling her arms out from under her. The skeleton had decided to put her on a sarcophagus rather than in one and chosen a bier already occupied by a depiction of the occupant who for some reason had decided to be buried holding a sword edge on. She’d sawn through the rope while the skeleton was talking. Brushing the dust off, she made her plan. The skeleton wasn’t in a hurry, but then again Benny was naked. Looking down, she shrugged. Benny wasn’t naked, really. Marion was. With luck at this time of night she wouldn’t fall foul of a policeman or someone quick with a camera. If she was … well, Benny would work extra hard to help Marion with the consequences. Right now she needed to get home fast and she raced up the stairs, shoving her shoulder against the door and wincing at the scrape.

The skeleton was gone by then, though Benny could see it in the distance just leaving the cemetery. Skipping trying to put on the angel suit – which was slow even if it wasn’t broken – she jumped the fence and kept to the shadows, sneaking and sprinting to get home before Marion’s undead doppelganger. A detached part of Benny’s mind thought of all the attractive ways his Marion body was jiggling and jumping with her swift movement unfettered by clothing and wished he was a bystander watching the beautiful young woman streaking home rather than being her. The rest was intent on the plan. It occurred to her that she had forgotten her key which was fine because she’d also neglected to lock the door. She raced in, her finger already deep in her belly button. When she pressed down hard she felt the suit relax its grip and almost tripped over her skin as it became loose. Benny pulled the suit up over his head and shimmied out of the bottom half in time to throw on a quick change of clothes before he heard the knock at his door. He kicked the Marion suit under his bed and went to answer.

“Hey there.” Marion said as he opened the door, posed with one leg bent and one arm up on the doorframe. She seemed to chalk down his red face and heavy breathing to her appearing on his doorstep dressed up for the bedroom and gave him a sultry smile.

“Hi, love.” Benny said, not wanting to tip the skeleton off. He made a show of looking her up and down and taking in the adventure costume. It wasn’t hard and the tenting in his pants was genuine. It was kind of a turn-on to know that the Marion in front of him wasn’t real but an undead monster trying to take over his girlfriend’s life. “What’s the occasion?”

Marion flowed towards him, pushing him back a little in an embrace and kicking the door closed with one heel. “I wanted to apologize for being late.” Their lips met. She was soft and warm in the embrace, her lips inviting and as his tongue explored her mouth he found no sign that the teeth were ancient or the tongue a cunning fake. “And I’m not really in the mood for a lot of talking and dinner.”

“That’s a shame. I made something special.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” She breathed, climbing up so he could carry her with his hands filled with her full rear. He felt his phone still in the back pocket.

“I thought you left this outfit here last time.” He said after a long kiss.

Marion nuzzled his neck. “I grabbed it while you weren’t looking so I could surprise you one day. Surprise.” She continued to nibble and kiss him as he carried her into his bedroom, but when he fell back onto the bed with her on top of him, she got up. “I know you don’t really need to be put in the mood, but…” She hooked her waistband. “I know we’ll both enjoy it anyway.” She disrobed, starting with her shorts in a long gyration, then bouncing and caressing her boobs as she took off the bolo jacket and belly shirt. She kicked off the boots and lay down next to him in only her underwear. She reached into his pants and he stopped breathing at the first squeeze. “It seems like you were as much in the mood for this as I was.” She straddled and kissed him and he put his arms around her. Her coos grew louder as he expertly unhooked her bra and slid her panties down as she worked on his clothing. He couldn’t help being curious and horny, so he forwent trying to reveal the monster at first in favor of caressing and squeezing her inviting anatomy. He almost lost himself as he squeezed her breast and she returned the favor further down. Knowing he’d be going too far with a creature of the night if he didn’t get on with it, he hugged her tight, his arms around her waist.

She went completely still as he grasped between her shoulder blades and pulled. “Sorry, I don’t think it’s quite your night.” He grinned as he pulled the skin apart. She tried to turn over, only making it easier for him to remove the skeleton by keeping his grip on the skin. The fake Marion’s eyes fell away and her sockets were filled with red malevolence. “I don’t know how you were warned, but I’ll have my fun yet!” The skeleton announced. Benny pressed his advantage and the skeleton was forced to abandon the Marion suit in order to escape his grip, foiling its previous gloat that it would take Benny by force. He leapt at it and knocked it down, but the rough bones scraped his skin as it struggled and he had to let it get away or else risk it tearing him apart. He felt the skull give way a little with his last desperate grab, but then the monster was gone into the night and he was left with a second, mostly unpadded Marion suit. That interested him since the skeleton ought to have needed a lot more. He replayed the fight in his mind and concluded that several times he’d grabbed something the skeleton ought not to have, blank spaces that looked empty but were smooth and squishy. As the adrenalin rush faded and he locked the door, he decided it had to be another monster costume. Marion? Maybe. Or someone else who wanted the jewels.

He picked up the discarded skin and confirmed that it was thick, but mostly lacking in soft bits, though it did have the same color lenses as his. It was also, he realized, wearing real makeup and as he looked down he found it had all of Marion’s freckles and marks as well as pubic hair and the down where she’d missed shaving. With a little washing he got the makeup off the face, showing the dusting of freckles on her cheeks. So now he had a much more accurate Marion suit to go with the other one and a mystery as to who had put it on. The skeleton had felt real, but he could just about convince himself that he’d also felt some soft parts between the bones and that the rib cage was curved in places it shouldn’t have been, no doubt to accommodate whatever had filled the suit’s chest. Or it was an evil magic creature.

He was putting the suits away when he heard the message come in. Checking his phone he saw it was from Marion. ‘Sorry again. Be there ten :) ‘

The rest of the evening was mercifully normal and Benny decided that he’d hold off on further excursions for a little while. Marion had apologized again for being late and for the angel scare. She’d been pleasantly surprised at his strong, urgent lovemaking and fallen asleep next to him looking very satisfied. He held her as they slept and wondered if she’d enjoy cuddling her body as much as he did.

Lakshmi woke up tired. After thinking she’d done so well at finding one of the hiding spots she’d been attacked by some sort of robot statue guarding the Fennis tomb. She’d have to have a long talk with her boyfriend later about his family’s rampant paranoia. Imagine installing a terrifying thing like that where it might give someone a heart attack! Fennis had acted surprised over breakfast and she’d grudgingly had to admit that maybe he hadn’t been involved and it had been someone else in that crazy bunch who’d done it. After thinking about it she decided that maybe it was a good thing. She’d probably end up with that machine guarding her one day and at least it would keep people from sticking their noses into her urn.

“I guess your museums aren’t the only ones who lose things.” She said, skimming the headlines.

“What now?” He asked, putting his arm around her and his head on her shoulder to read what she was.

“Several animals escaped the zoo last night. Keepers are currently searching and caution the public not to approach. Look! They lost a bear. And a wolf, and … a penguin. Well, at least one of those won’t kill us.”

“I’m sure they’ll catch them soon.” Fennis said. “There’s also something about an experimental exhibit being stolen but they don’t want to say what yet. Great. Hopefully they weren’t breeding a liger.”

Lakshmi kicked him. “You always think the worst.” He pushed her down and kissed her. “And the best when it’s a bad time.”

“You need to get to work.”

“I need to get to work.”

Fennis sighed. “So do I.”

Lakshmi thought about the other map she’d figured out. “I might be late home.”

“Oh well. So will I.”

“You’re out looking for treasure, aren’t you?”

“And you aren’t?” Fennis asked.

Lakshmi kissed him back. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“I should hope so!” Fennis laughed. “It’s not the sort of thing couples hide from each other.”

“Unless they intend to break the news at Disney World.” Lakshmi retorted.

The news had not improved Lakshmi’s outlook. She stared at her spreadsheets blankly several times during the day, thoughts turning to how unfair it was. First murderous statues and now escaped animals. Why did the next gem have to be hidden under the bird house at the zoo? She had to admit it could be worse. The old monkey house had been turned to an aviary when the zoo decided a hundred years earlier to build larger enclosures for the apes and if the robbers had been really nasty they could have put it under the lion house which still housed big cats during cold weather. The monkeys must have been bad enough. She’d checked the old guides against the current ones and thought that taking it from a surly macaw woken from its slumber would be plenty of challenge for her.

Lakshmi doodled her way through the day, planning for the evening. Since she and Don – she tried and often failed to call him by his first name – had as much as admitted that they were both out treasure hunting she didn’t feel bad about dashing home and changing so she could get out before he arrived. If he got home before she was ready she’d probably lose her nerve and keep him at home with her. Then neither of them would get anything.

The previous night she’d just worn normal clothes since she didn’t expect anyone to be around the graveyard. This time she was going to be trespassing at night. Though she had nothing illegal in mind – she wasn’t sure but she thought that recovering artifacts on private property wasn’t illegal – she’d still be at the zoo after hours and the police wouldn’t see it her way if she got caught. She’d read that pure black was more obvious at night than a dark gray, so she found a pair of tights and a knee length dress in about the right colors. She’d never done anything like this, but she guessed that the uneven hem and wavy motion of the skirt might better approximate the appearance of shadows than her lithe but slightly angular form would if she wore something too tight. The only problem, she thought wryly, was that her sneakers were purple with rhinestones. She’d bought them years ago when she was still not quite used to Western culture and thought that they looked pretty. Her professional life had her in low heels and her social life in either boots or higher heels so she’d never had a reason to replace them other than for being little girl shoes, which seemed like a silly reason to spend money.

Hoping that she wouldn’t be caught just because of her shoes, she set out with a dark sling purse to hold her shovel and keep the gem in if she found it. The parking lot for the zoo was empty but she knew better than to park there. Instead she stopped several blocks away and walked the rest of the distance, jumping the fence halfway along the length of the zoo so she wouldn’t be picked up by cameras if there were any in the entrance. Every rustle of the trees above the shadowed walk made her jump, as did the many shadows. Her trepidation aside, she was enjoying herself. Not only was she doing something both illicit and harmless, but she was also getting to wander the zoo without adults crowding the exhibits or kids getting underfoot and screaming. The food carts and brightly colored kids areas seemed forlorn and purposeless without visitors.
Most of the animals were diurnal and so more or less asleep, but it was still a joy to pick her way past unreadable signs and see the silhouettes of the cats as they lay on their tree branch beds or the sloths picked out easily by their hanging shapes. Some of the nocturnal species were much more active than she’d ever seen them and curious at their unexpected visitor, coming right up to the glass to meet her.

It wasn’t all fun, though. She bit her tongue to keep from making a noise when a she saw the bear shambling towards her. She froze as it came nearer, picking up speed and rearing on its hind legs to tower over her. She was shrinking back from the huge paws when they pressed against the glass, the bear’s black nose twitching. She put her hand up to it and it pressed its paw against the clear barrier where hers were. Blushing at how close she’d been to wetting herself, she waved and the bear waved back. When she thought about it, the escapee was supposed to be a Formosan black bear and she’d seen an American one. In her defense, she thought, the first thing a person did when a bear ran at them wasn’t check its chest for a white V. The moment of panic left her feeling looser and oddly safer, as if one bear encounter inoculated her against future ones. She felt at home at the zoo and only realized how dumb she’d been a moment after seeing the light coming from one of the indoor aquatic exhibits and opened the door to look.

The lamp in the pool threw dancing lights onto the ceiling, designs which drew Lakshmi’s eye long enough for the dark shape inside to skim towards her and surface. Lakshmi’s surprise was complete when instead of a dolphin, a man with a fish tail burst from the water at the pool’s edge. The man threw back his head, water droplets cascading from his long blonde hair as he brushed his blonde goatee to get rid of the worst of the dampness. He looked at Lakshmi with dancing blue eyes and heaved himself onto a platform that extended from the edge of the pool partway into the water. His skin was darkly bronzed and his tail was cerulean and sparkling with the reflection from the many scales. Lakshmi replayed the previous observation, her appreciation of his chiseled belly and toned abs as well as his handsome features slowing her noting how strange it was that he had frills around his waist and was a fish from there down. “Care to help a guy out?” He said in a low baritone that warmed her insides. She tried to focus on the mental image of Fennis, but then the merman smiled and she started to melt.

“I – uh, I shouldn’t…” She stammered, cheeks turning dark at her lack of articulation.

The merman flicked his tail, playfully throwing drops at her from the wide, thickly veined fins. “You’re here and I could use the assistance.” He smiled that winning smile again. “I was practicing and forgot how hard it is to get my costume off without help once it gets cold and shrinks.” He waved his tail again to illustrate and Lakshmi could see where his knees were bending under the rubbery cover.

“Oh, right! Of course.” Lakshmi laughed self-deprecatingly. “Duh. If this zoo had a real fish person they’d get a lot more ticket sales.”

“And a lot more night visitors.” The merman laughed.

“Yeah, about that…”

“Don’t worry. You don’t match the profile of the klepto or the rabid animal freedom nut.” The merman replied. “Just grab the end. Don’t yank, but give me a constant pull.” He swung around and Lakshmi’s color rose further at the sight of how the tail clung to his butt. Feeling silly, she took the fins in both hands and started to pull. The man pushed down and outward on the waist of the tail and it started to slide down, falling off swiftly once it cleared his hips.

“Thanks!” He said, then saw Lakshmi’s expression. “Oops.” He didn’t move to cover himself and Lakshmi to her shame couldn’t turn away. It wasn’t so much his endowment as how natural he acted and the whole tan, casually muscular package. She might not be able to love someone so carefree, but she could see how he could end up with a harem of cougars looking for excitement and she wasn’t thinking about the cats next door. “Liking the view?” He asked, stepping forward. He smelled of fish, but somehow in a good way.

“I – uh – I have something I need to do.” Lakshmi said. “Glad I could help.”

“Why the hurry?” He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in. “You know you want it.”

“Really,” Lakshmi stepped back. “I have a boyfriend.” She was losing herself in his eyes glanced down to keep from being pulled in, though the view there wasn’t much less enticing. It took a great effort of will to break with the deep blue eyes and the lips that brushed hers just as she took another step back.

The man sighed and shook his head. “This could have been pleasant for you.” He let go and reached into his mouth. He discarded what looked like teeth and the next time he spoke Lakshmi saw rows of sharp fangs. “I guess I’ll have to eat you the other way.” Oh no, not again, she thought, rooted by fear as he grabbed his lips and pulled, stretching his face away and up until a slick, shiny black and white head emerged. It looked at her with pure black eyes and wriggled out of the manly skin, shedding the package she’d just been staring at, replacing it with a smooth white swell of slimy skin, though the flopping as the beast hopped to get it off was just as distracting. A thick black and white tail burst from the suit, bouncing up and down with the pent up energy of being stuck to the man’s back, compressed by the suit to be almost invisible. The creature lifted webbed feet from the suit and threw it aside with webbed hands.

The orca-man grinned at her with those big pointy teeth. “Dinner time!”

It lunged at her and she sidestepped. Being attacked by monsters was becoming a habit, she thought. She led it on a chase around the pool area, its tail jumping up and down with each step. It gained ground partway through by diving into the pool and using its strong limbs to swim faster than she could run, though its tail only seemed to be a rudder rather than a flipper. She ran through the door, breathing hard and hearing the monster wheezing as well as it climbed out of the pool behind her. Instead of running further, she jumped to the side and let it run past her, only turning around in time to see her pull the door closed behind her and hitting the glass as she locked it. She’d decided that she was safer locked in the aquarium than running all over the place with it right behind her and possibly making a racket to call the police. Fennis and his friends had made her sit through enough horror movies to know better than to expect the police to see the monster chasing her and arrest it instead.

The monster pounded on the glass door, but she ignored it, too interested in the skin it had shed and the tail she’d removed from what she’d thought was an attractive actor/trainer. She picked it up in one hand, huffing a little at the weight. Since there was no one else around, she did something she’d always wanted to do. “Honk.” She said, grabbing the suit’s meaty member and squeezing. She almost dropped it when the penis is jumped to attention and grew hard. Stretching the mouth so she could look, she saw that crotch of the suit was filled with plastic and a rubber item that she’d seen on adult web sites. She hadn’t seen a slit on the monster, but then again the teeth had been distracting her from a close anatomical study. She felt warm at the thought of putting on the costume and having that inside her, looking like a man but in fact being a woman walking around with a sex toy inside her all the time. She got even hotter thinking about talking to people and having them think she was a slender and fit man when every step she took would shift the dildo around inside her. Lakshmi looked around again. There wasn’t anyone there and she was even more curious about the suit now that she’d seen the inside.

The only one there was the monster and it was a simple matter of dragging everything around to the other side of the pool to escape its glaring black eyes. She took off her simple shadow garb and sat down on a bench. Stretching the mouth of the suit open again, she entered it with both feet, feeling her way into the legs and then reaching down to pull them up until her feet fit inside the costume’s. From there it was easy to stand up and just keep pulling until calves and then thighs were smooth. She ‘ooh’ed and ‘aahh’ed while slowly drawing the hips up, the dildo inside sliding into her until she felt like she’d never be able to close her legs all the way. Standing now with her legs a little apart, she got it to her belly and then had to work her arms into the gaping mouth, feeling awkward and a little pained by her shoulders as the suit went further up with her efforts to get her hands all the way down the sleeves and into the manly gloves. She shrugged her shoulders, finding that the mask’s mouth was now around her neck, tickling the skin with the blonde goatee, though she couldn’t feel the hair on her back. Her breasts felt like they were being squashed terribly by the broad pecs of the suit. She grasped the mouth, stretched it a little further and pulled the mask over her head. The mouth’s taut elastic closed, settling the features over her face without effort.

She checked to make sure the lips were secure and found the tooth caps on the floor. She felt like she needed to go all the way with it. When those were in, she stretched and felt something odd on her lip. She found it was a tiny button embedded in the mask and squeezed it. Something whirred and she felt the cold, rough concrete beneath the soles of her feet. Her legs rippled and she could then feel the air passing over her calves and the flex of her larger thigh muscles. The rubber inside her warmed, grew, and then suddenly she could only dimly feel it, though now she was aware of an intense pleasure almost outside her body. It faded when the suit bulked up her belly and then further compressed her chest, forcing the suit’s broad but now believable pecs together so that they matched her wide shoulders. His beard itched and he shook his head to feel his shaggy hair brush his back. “Okay.” He said, not really surprised when his voice came out like the merman’s had been. He pinched his nipple and all he felt was pressure. “Weird.”

He felt his body and then noticed the sudden change between his legs as his new member grew and swung. It was so very strange to have that much sensation in one place that was almost outside his body. He grabbed the dick and gave it an experimental pump, then closed his eyes and continued jacking off, his whole attention now on the external joy stick in his hand. He felt a tight, hot flow through it and the meat in his hand started to soften. He opened his eyes and saw a sticky stream on the floor and the side of the glass pool. “How-“ he shook his head. “Silly question. How does any of this really work?” He did his best to wipe off the cum and picked up the tail. There was no reason not to try it out while he waited for the monster to give up and find someone else to chew on. It forced his legs together and after a few minutes of trying different places for it, Lakshmi resigned himself to the fact that there wasn’t a good place to stick his dick with his thighs pressed against each other. He worked the tail over his legs and tucked his package inside. With it all the way up, he found himself very frustrated. If he’d still had boobs he could have at least played with them while enjoying the image of the toned man flopping around and finally slipping beneath the water. Instead his only organ of pleasure was stuck under a thick layer of rubber-like stuff, inaccessible and crying for attention as it tried to grow stiff in the tight confines. The cold water doused some of that, though looking down at the frills around his hips and the smooth aqua lines of his legs in the shimmering tail, he couldn’t quite get down all the way.

Clear water rushed past as he grew accustomed to having one big mer-tail instead of legs and his strokes became stronger. In time he forgot about his narcissistic arousal and focused on learning to surface quickly and smoothly, taking a breath and arching himself to go straight back into the water for another few flicks of his tail. He raced laps around the pool and finally burst out of the surface in attempted jumps with mixed success. By the time he noticed the monster was gone, he’d gotten good enough to slide up onto the platform under his own momentum. “I should do shows.” He said with satisfaction, grasping the tail and wriggling out, starting to notice himself again as he saw his reflection swinging his tight buns in the air. Doing his best to ignore his growing hard-on, he put on the only clothes he had, laughing at himself at the image of his muscular, trim body in the gray tights and dress which felt like it was bursting at the seams when he finally squeezed into it. Luckily the purple sneakers still fit fine, so he wouldn’t soil his tights now that the monster was gone and he could leave.

Lakshmi briefly considered just going home, but now that he was a man in an ill fitting dress he thought he had the perfect disguise. Nobody would ever think he was Lakshmi, so he didn’t even have to worry about cameras now. If he thought a policeman was coming, he could dash out, duck into a ladies room and shimmy out of the suit, confident that the police would pass her right by. His swagger was short lived. As the old monkey house came into view, he saw someone else arriving by a different path. His first thought was that it must be a nocturnal zookeeper there to feed one of the night birds, but when the woman stepped into the pool of light shed by the aviary’s door, he relaxed. Her shapeless gray dress that barely came to her mid thigh was not the sensible brown uniform of an employee. She seemed to be trying to sneak around like he was, and had the same destination in mind. Lakshmi saw the girl was carrying a bag like his and bit his lip, thinking that the girl must be after the same prize as well. She had to laugh, though, because the girl was also very obviously as ill suited to the task as he was at the moment. Like Lakshmi’s shoes, she had a flash of color that would give her away immediately – the enormous fluffy blue hair that piled on top of her head and fell down her back, which was bad enough without the lighter streaks that shone out.

The girl looked around and when she turned towards Lakshmi, he saw that her dress ought to have been longer on her but that it had not been fitted for a chest as generous as the girl’s. Her boobs were round, bouncy, impossibly well supported and a couple sizes too large for her slender shoulders. In fact, her hips and rear were pretty curvy as well, made all the more dramatic next to her healthy but narrow waist. Her skin was tan but not quite as dark as Lakshmi’s, and her eyes were a slightly lighter shade than her hair. Lakshmi thought she was cute in a quirky way. She had a snub nose, wide eyes, and lips that looked made for mischievous smiles.

“Hi there.” Lakshmi said, stepping forward. She couldn’t think of any other way to stop her rival from getting to the treasure. She would make as unconvincing an employee as the girl, who turned to look at her. Lakshmi wasn’t interested in women, but tried to smile invitingly. “Looks like we’re both out for a private stroll.”

“Yeah,” the young lady said, biting her lip. She had a pleasantly high pitched voice.

Apparently she was as attracted to Lakshmi as Lakshmi was to himself at the moment, and despite himself Lakshmi felt his tights grow tighter as their lips met and suddenly they were on the ground rolling around, the girl’s large chest squished against his. Seduction was easy, Lakshmi thought, when you look as good as he did. He was clumsy at acting male, not sure where to put his hands. The young woman seemed equally confused, though perhaps she was having difficulty with the fact that the man she’d jumped was wearing such girly clothes. Once their writhing landed them in a soft grassy embankment it got easier as their long kiss deepened and they abandoned themselves to instinct. Lakshmi answered the call from his member and ground his hips against the girl, who cried out in pleasure and what sounded almost like surprise as he pushed her against him with one hand on her rear and used the other to dive into her dress and grope her breast. Perhaps she’d never had a man who had such expert knowledge on how to massage a boob. The kisses were urgent, Lakshmi drowning in the sudden role reversal. It was all so different and so new, the sensations and experience of pushing a woman’s skirt up and having her push his waistline down so that he could put his throbbing, needy shaft into her waiting, moist opening. It didn’t even occur to him until he was a few pumps in that she hadn’t been wearing any underwear. She contracted around him and neither could hold in the vocal exhalations of their shared ecstasy, all doubts driven from Lakshmi’s mind. I guess I’m a great lover, he thought.

“Right there!” The girl was crying. “No, there! Oh, no! Right there! Oh, yes!”

When the girl was lying in his embrace, Lakshmi felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t really cheating, she thought. She had to. It was a distraction and besides she wasn’t Lakshmi. He was someone else. Lakshmi would never have a quickie with a sexy strange girl who he’d met while prowling around a zoo and needed to seduce so he could get an old buried treasure.

“That was wonderful.” He said to the girl.

“Mmm.” She sighed. She clung to him tighter and he opened his legs to make her more comfortable. He stroked her enormous fluff of hair as she rubbed her cheek against him.

Lakshmi realized he was now stuck with her. She wouldn’t be going in, but neither would he. “So, I guess we should get out of here.”

The girl looked up, desire plain in her gaze. “I suppose.” She stretched and smiled at Lakshmi’s immediate and unintentional reaction. “Ready for more already?” She took the shaft in her hand and gently massaged it. Lakshmi gasped and relaxed in the intimate massage. The girl let go and helped him up.

He returned her favor by running his fingers around her nipple in a way he knew would make her knees shake and was not disappointed. “I wish I could, but I think we’ve made too much noise.”

The girl covered his lips with hers, wrapping her arms around him. He reciprocated, but only put one arm around her, using the other hand to pull up his tights.

She sighed and straightened her skirt. With a playful smile, she touched his crotch. “See you tomorrow night. That is, if you want to keep me away from there.”

“Likewise,” Lakshmi grinned back, slipping her hand under the girl’s skirt to tickle her sweet spot. It wasn’t the gem she’d been after, but that was safe as long as they were both too busy getting busy with each other to grab it. She’d never had any interest in another girl, much less in stimulating them the way that seemed so casual and natural to her as she played her fingers across the girl’s body and then let go. Again she felt guilty about seeing the girl again since that would definitely qualify as an affair. She felt a pull towards that sexy, adorable girl as she walked away, hips swinging and butt flexing. The draw spread in a cold, needy strumming through her nerves along her arms and legs. She didn’t just want to see her again, she needed to. She hoped she’d figure something out before Fennis started to wonder.

It wasn’t until she was halfway home – taking it slow in her dreamy haze - that it occurred to her that she hadn’t taken the boy suit off. Relieved when she saw Fennis hadn’t gotten home first, she dashed into her bedroom, pressed the button in her lip and grabbed the lips to stretch the suit’s mouth open so she could take it off. The dildo was difficult to get out and she had to take it slow. She heard the front door open and close and bit her lip to steel herself against what came when she pulled it out the rest of the way. Gasping, she pulled hard and shoved the suit into her closet just as she heard Fennis call, “Lakshmi?”

“Be right there!” She shouted back, trying to fight down the mixed feelings of guilt, lust, tenderness from the suit’s quick removal, and the awareness of how strange it was that she was putting on normal clothes so soon after what had just happened.

Earlier that night…

Fennis hoped Lakshmi would be all right. She was a tough woman, but occasionally showed that she still hadn’t quite assimilated. She’d probably be all right if something happened, he convinced himself as he walked. She’d taken the car, which might tip off the authorities, but it was better than evading their notice by taking a long trip on foot after dark like he was. He kept his head down as he passed through the neighborhoods between him and the jewel he’d found the location of, relaxing only when he entered an affluent part of town within a mile of where he was going. He was still trying not to look around too much and so ran right into someone. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“It’s OK, nya!” He looked up, blushed and looked further up to keep the young lady he’d walked into from thinking he was staring at what she was displaying. Her outfit pegged her solidly as an early Halloween reveler on her way to a party, secure in the wealthy part of town and utterly unworried about what might happen. No one who wasn’t one hundred percent assured of their safety would walk down the street dressed like she was. He caught himself in the sexist thought and then dismissed the social guilt. Right or wrong, it was still the case that a young woman wearing little more than a few white fur strips and a cat eared headband with light pink velvet insides was a target for lascivious looks if nothing else. She tilted her head, her slow, playful smile revealing a pair of tiny fangs protruding from her upper lip. She brushed him off with thick, white, pink padded paws that reached up to her elbow. “I’m so clumsy!” She exclaimed, her light blue eyes inviting and her thick blue hair falling down in a curl over her nose.

“It’s fine.” Fennis smiled weakly. “I really have to go.”

“Meow?” The girl seemed to be taking her character very seriously, staying in a kitty pose that accentuated her cleavage and lifted her tail up to highlight her round behind. “Are you sure?” She stepped up close and he wondered how her voluptuous breasts weren’t sagging but only bounced attractively, despite being covered only by a single stripe of white fur that crossed her mid back and curled upward on either side, just reaching her nipples and only as wide as her aureole so that no pink showed around the white. Her belly was crisscrossed in a diamond pattern with the furry lines, enhancing the shining olive skin and drawing attention to the fact that they really didn’t cover much of anything. On closer inspection – as if he could help it – he saw that the breast strip angled down over her sides to join the belly diamond.

“Sorry.” Fennis said. He walked past her and she padded after him on white furry thigh high boots which had something in them that boosted her onto her tiptoes. Five red claws clicked on the pavement with each step, spread as if she was permanently ready to jump on top of someone and rake them with the sharp nails. Her long tail bobbed just above the ground. Fluffy white garters adorned her thighs to match the arm rings near her shoulders. She continued to smile and act playful, running ahead of him to crouch in waiting, wiggling her fluff clad rear and arching her back so that when he looked back to see if she was following he could see the outline of her sex in the bikini bottom and how the tail sprouted just above low rise. He admired her dedication, especially in keeping her blue hair so fluffy. The whole ensemble must have taken ages to put on and he guessed that she was going to show off as much as she could before she had to take it off.

As Fennis got further away, she pouted and turned around, still on all fours. She bounded at him and he fought his physical desire down at the sight of her body in such beautiful motion before she jumped and struck him, pushing him down an alley and into a wall. “Are you sure?” She purred, licking his cheek. “Meow, you’d have so much fun.” She let her feet fall back to the ground but kept her paws around him, pressing her bounty up and almost into his face. She rubbed up against him, teasing him with alternating handfuls of soft flesh and luxurious fur. He avoided her kiss, so she settled on nibbling his shoulder with her little fangs.

“I’m flattered.” He said, suspecting she had taken something before going out. “But I have a girlfriend and we’re faithful.” He pushed her gently away. “I’m sure you’re nice and that I’d have a good time, but like I said, girlfriend, place to go. Good evening.”

She stamped and clenched her paws, the cat boots making no noise and the paws too thick to flex far. “This was your choice!” She said, her voice becoming deeper. She grabbed her boobs and at first he thought she was going to try to feel herself up to entice him again as she moved her paws counterclockwise, but instead pulled them apart, a rent in her skin growing. Something black was inside, forcing its way out of her skin. Fennis turned and tried to escape the alley, but the black blur of whatever had emerged passed him and blocked his way out. “I have more than one hunger to sate tonight, the panther-like androgynous beast growled, long black tail thrashing. It advanced, unsheathing wicked claws. Fennis looked around, tripping over the panther’s discarded cosplay skin. It stood over him, short muzzle dripping as sabertooth fangs extended. He bent his legs in front of him and kicked out, forcing the animal person back. It growled again and hissed. Its yellow eyes glowed malevolently in the gloom and despite being in a fighting position it seemed bigger than it had been when bundled in the girl suit. Round black ears swiveled to take in every sound as it unfolded its angular, shaggy black form, ready to pounce when Fennis showed a moment of weakness.

Fennis knew he didn’t have long. It would get tired of playing and tear into him with its claws eventually and he had no defense. He had to weapons and was only keeping it at bay by being aggressive, which wouldn’t stop it forever. Even as he thought this, it swiped at him and he gasped, though it only made a shallow cut and tore through his shirt. He fended it off with his bag and looked around. Seeing a metal garbage can to one side, he feinted right and when the panther pounced, he broke left and grabbed a pair of lids. I can’t believe I’m about to do this he thought just as he brought the two lids together with a crash on either side of the panther’s head. It yowled and turned to fight, by which point he’d gotten a grip on one of the cans and brought it down on the creature’s head. It screeched again and Fennis scooped up the shed skin with its bundle of half-attached costume and ran, hoping that the panther’s sense of smell would be blocked by the contents of the trash can. He didn’t know why he’d grabbed the skin except perhaps to keep the creature from luring anyone else that night. That and it seemed a good prize for winning – escaping – a fight with a fierce predator in a dark alley.

Fennis took stock of his situation. His shirt had been torn to ribbons, there was some sort of werecat on his tail, and he was carrying what looked like a scantily clad female. Point two was deadly, but points one and three would eventually attract the wrong kind of attention. A man in tattered clothes with an unconscious and mostly naked girl over his shoulder rang a lot of alarm bells. His fear mounted, he had nowhere to escape to. There was a gas station ahead and he ducked in, hurrying and staying low so the bored looking man behind the counter wouldn’t see him. He vacillated and finally ran into the ladies room, locking himself in a stall. The affluence was very apparent in how clean the gas station restroom was and he was thankful for it as he stripped out of his clothes. There was only one way out that was sure to keep him from suspicion and that was inside the body of the cosplayer whose identity he’d liberated. He sighed with relief when he spread the costume’s chest and found that it was only that. A softly lined costume that though heavy and filled with wires and shiny skin to machine interfaces was only a costume. Hefting the breast, he reflected that the panther monster was either flat chested or male. Either way it worked all the better for him.

The entry slit went as far as the cosplayer’s belly, pulling some of the white furry strips off when he opened it all the way. Her boots fell off as he sat on the toilet and put his legs in, which was fine because they wouldn’t have fit his bigger limbs. He’d be a stocky girl, but at least he wouldn’t be a scruffy ruffian carrying a prone damsel. It took him four tries to finally slide his penis into the attached sheath but it was worth it since the suit seemed to take care of the rest, bending it back and hiding it behind a soft mound he could feel through the bikini that had stayed on as he dressed. The gloves also had to come off and the bands around thighs and upper arms were tight as he flipped the mask from its place hanging down his back to cover his head, lining up the eyes with his own and flaring his nostrils against the small nose of the mask. The hair had amazingly stayed mostly intact, being held in place by the headband and what must have been an amazing amount of product. The sharp toothed cat dentures almost fell to the floor, but he caught them in clumsy, numb fingers before they did. He might have to stick them back in and even the cleanest bathroom floor was no place for teeth.

He pressed the two halves together, sucking in his gut so it would go. Mashing his boobs to do so, he got the chest closed and gave his belly a little brush to make sure it was smooth. It was, and he wondered how the panther had looked so good when he knew he looked blocky and nowhere near the slender waisted young cosplayer who had waylaid him and threatened to take the way off later. He was still big chested and hipped, but the rest wasn’t coming together until he gave both breasts another squeeze and felt a click. Experimenting, he squeezed, pulled and finally pushed them in a circle, feeling the clicks more than hearing them. When the circle was complete, she gasped and almost lost consciousness as the costume very quickly contracted everywhere, forcing the air out of his lungs. He wheezed and held on to the bowl.

“Are you OK in there?” A lady called.

“Yeah…” Fennis breathed. Then she straightened up. “Yeah, sorry. Uh, cramp.”

“You should see someone if they’re that bad, honey.” The lady advised her. Then the door opened and closed, leaving Fennis alone. She flexed her leg and experimentally stuck it in the boot. It slid down and the boot stretched a little to let her foot through, fitting perfectly when her foot reached the paw at the end. She put the other on and fixed the rest of her costume, swiftly figuring out that it used some sort of self adhesion that didn’t leave a stick on her fingers. She put the gloves on, strode out of the stall and checked the mirror. “Wow – I mean, meow.” She said, crossing her eyes to look at the lock of hair between them. She giggled at the bouncy catgirl reflected. Reaching back, she checked to make sure her tail was removable and stuck it back on, pulling it around to nibble the end. That reminded her and she fumbled the dentures back in, the fangs making her cute tail chew a hundred times more adorable. “I’m gorgeous!” She bounced happily and purred as she watched her chest flow. “I’m going to have so much fun with this.”

She frowned at herself and put up a paw. “Remember. You’re going to go get that jewel.”

She grinned back at herself. “And now I’m a sexy catburglar! No problem!”

“Noticeable.” She countered.

“Fine.” She blew her lock up again and stuck out her tongue. “I’ll change to something a little less eye catching.” Sauntering out and enjoying the pop-eyed stare from the cashier, she exited the station and looked around. Tapping her chin – and loving how soft her paw was – she decided her best chance was to go a few blocks west to where there wasn’t quite as much money floating around. It was a risk, but she wouldn’t be out too much before she found what she needed.

Fennis was at heart a show-off and a little bit of an anti-feminist. So it not just didn’t bother her that she was walking with an exaggerated rolling gait and boots that made her walk like she was in very high heels, but made her feel good. So did the gazes of the men she walked past, putting on a show of being even more alluring in her indecent, extremely sexy costume. Their regard and her awareness of how attractive she was with her boobs bouncing on display, her long legs, her curves and her olive skin made her nipples hard and her vagina wet. The unfamiliar sexual feelings which she couldn’t address in public drove her wild, making her smile and shake her booty even more, which drove the cycle of lust until she felt like she was going to cum just from putting one pawed foot in front of the other.

On the outskirts of the wealthy district was a thrift store that catered mostly to the youth who felt like it was fashionable to buy secondhand. Since ‘secondhand’ in this case usually meant what their best friend had donated the day before, most of the clothes were of a very different quality – and price – than most. Nevertheless the shop tried to keep to its charitable roots with only one person on desk and long racks of items arranged by size rather than brand.

Fennis laughed quietly at what she was about to do, and then stalked catlike into the store. She kept below the level of the desk, her tail brushing the ground and her front paws occasionally doing the same as she crouched, darted and slunk her way to her goal. Feeling even more like a predator on the hunt, she pushed through the clothing to the inside of the rack, stalking the thick jungle of fabric for something that would fit her. She snatched the first dress that looked her size and wasn’t a loud color off its hanger and removed all of her costume but her boots, using the clothes as cover and putting everything into her bag. The boots came off soon after when she found a pair of sneakers that fit. Now she was merely a stunningly sexy young lady with unusual hair and ill fitting clothes instead of a pornographic cosplay star. She looked around, shrugged, and brazenly walked out, daring the cashier to notice her. He didn’t. He had never even looked up from his book.

She was close to her goal and sped up, climbing over the fence with the grace as she felt her disguise deserved and making a beeline for her target. She ignored the strange sounds, the shadowy carts to either side, the dark trees. She knew where she was going and slunk from shadow to shadow to get there, uninterested in anything but her prize. There it was, a stone edifice with a small lamp outside, producing a pool of light just around the door. She had her foot on the step when something rustled behind her. She turned, ready to flee, and saw it was a handsome blonde man who for some reason was dressed in grey tights and a matching dress that fit him about as well as Fennis’s did. He had a bag over his shoulder and was staring at her like she was at him.

“Hi there.” He said, showing white teeth. He stepped forward. “Looks like we’re both out for a private stroll.”

Fennis’s mind was racing. He must be after the same thing she was. It was fight, run or … He bit his lip at the thought. He was a sexy girl and the man coming towards her looked interested. “Yeah,” she said, making her decision. She arched her back.

She didn’t know who made the first move, only that he was as into her as she’d hoped and now they were on the ground, lips together and hands roaming. Yum! The cat part of her thought, smelling the faint fishy aroma around him. She’d never had sex as a woman, never kissed a man as a woman. Where was she supposed to put her hands? Now they were on soft grass and he was touching her in places that made her body ache and the doubts melt from her mind. He was clumsy but so was she. Poor man. He must never have had a girl as perfect as me before. She thought. Fennis had never thought he’d ever want to feel a dick pressing against him, but she had one now and loved it. She knew where it was going and wanted it inside her. The decision to take off her furry panties was mostly to titillate Fennis, but now she was even more glad of the choice since all she had to do was pull his odd tights down and then it was in!

His hands moved over her body and his dick inside her. She couldn’t keep up with the myriad ways he pleased her in the space of a few seconds. His grunting turned her on and her delighted squeals of guidance seemed to be having the same effect on him. Then his warm juices were inside her, blending with those released by Fennis and making it seem like he’d shot the most monumental load ever.

“That was wonderful.” Her lover said.

“Mmm.” She sighed. She thought of Lakshmi and pulled him close, trying to take comfort in his solidity and masculinity to keep from thinking of the gross infidelity that he’d just committed with the man. He stroked her hair and she channeled her inner cat, brushing her cheek against him, trying to think only of comfort.

“So, I guess we should get out of here.” The man continued.

Fennis couldn’t help the love in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I suppose.” She got up and felt the mischief rise in her. She stretched, knowing full well what effect it would have on the man she’d just made love to. “Ready for more already?” She asked, egging him on as he reacted predictably. Takes one to know one. We really are that easy to excite. She took it one step further and grabbed the rising erection, daring her maleness to revolt as she caressed the shaft and brought it to life. She only wanted to tease, though, and let go long before he could climax, using the same hand to help him to his feet, though she continued to regard his swinging dick with affection.

Not to be outdone, her lover stroked her boobs and she could barely stay upright. Fennis had always loved breasts and now she adored them utterly for what they could do to her by being touched and caressed by a skillful hand. “I wish I could, but I think we’ve made too much noise.” He murmured and she heard the lie in his voice.

Fennis kissed him and felt him getting ready to leave. The kiss convinced her that it wasn’t her, but something else pushing him away. She sighed to herself and fixed her skirt, knowing it would have to be mostly decent for the long walk home. “See you tomorrow night. That is, if you want to keep me away from there.” She reminded him, drawing him back into the play.
“Likewise,” the man smiled and she melted a little again, wanting to hold him. Lakshmi rose in her mind again and for a moment she thought she had the strength to stay away now, but then her hand was on his crotch and his was inside her and she was falling for him all over again. Forcing his girlfriend firmly into his mind and telling himself it was only a necessary diversionary pretense, she pulled away. Well if I’m supposed to be distracting him… She thought, giggling to herself. She walked away, making sure to flex her butt with each step and swing her hips as much as she could, feeling his gaze and his hard-on on her back. By the time she looked back he was gone and she was alone.

Fennis shivered. He wasn’t sure he ought to come back. An accidental fling was one thing, but an affair was another. Better the mystery man get the rock and he get the real jewel. He hurried home, hunching himself against the now unwelcome eyes that followed him. The sooner he could get to his room and take off this disguise which had led him into betrayal of their relationship the better. Then again, she thought as she entered her own neighborhood, she’d seduced a man. She’d done better than the monster who’d worn her body last and gotten someone to stop and ignore their goal for her. They’d caressed her skin, succumbed her lips, entered her – then it occurred to her that she’d been seduced as well. Absently feeling the curve of her bottom she had to believe she’d been the real victor, the true seductress, but something nagged at her. She’d enjoyed it, it had felt right.

She shook her head. Just get out of the costume, stop thinking these strange thoughts and having these emotions. He saw Lakshmi’s light was on and went to look, hoping that the sight of his girlfriend in the familiar setting would steady him. Peeking through the window, she was both shocked and aroused to see the blonde man in Lakshmi’s room. He was naked and pinching his lip. Fennis was about to run in and demand to know how he’d found out Fennis’ address – and secret – when the man’s skin slackened and he spat out his teeth. By the time Lakshmi had poked her head out of the suit’s mouth and shook out her hair, Fennis was laughing so hard that she had to retreat from the window. No wonder it had felt so right to fuck him!
Her playful lust restored, Fennis slipped into the house silently and skipped to her room. Throwing the frumpy stolen clothes into a corner, she triumphantly held up her cat ears and started taking the cosplay out of her bag and putting it on. It relieved her how easy it was to smooth the white fur over her body, her hands shaking as she lined up the breast bands to perfectly cover her nipples. She buried her face in the bikini bottom, inhaling her own scent and feeling the softness she was about to share. The boots slid over her legs, clinging and comforting her with the reassertion of her nature, claws out and ready for fun. The sharp toothed dentures pricked her lower lip as she put them in and bit down. She stood and stuck her tail just above the fur covered derriere, following it with a caress of her paws as she put the gloves on. She rubbed her cheek against the back of her paw and her arm, submerging herself in catlike luxury.

Dancing out of her room, she opened and closed the door loudly and then grabbed her neck. She could just about stretch the skin away and when she hummed she confirmed that it was mostly Fennis’ voice. She knocked on Lakshmi’s door, imagining her girlfriend suddenly galvanized into swift action at her boyfriend’s return. “Lakshmi?” She called in Fennis’ voice.

“Be right there!” Lakshmi called back. Fennis smiled at how rushed she sounded.

“It looks like something followed you home!” He shouted back, then let go of his throat.

“What?” Lakshmi opened the door and was bowled over by the soft, luscious cat cosplayer.

“Surprise!” She licked Lakshmi’s face, grazing her gently with the sharp canine teeth.

Lakshmi instinctively put her arms around the bundle of fur and warmth. “How did you-“

“I guess we both had the same idea!” Fennis laughed. She pretended to sniff at Lakshmi, nosing under her skirt and then looking up with mock disappointment. “Aww. Where’d it go?”

Everything fell into place for Lakshmi a moment later and she scrambled to her feet, yanking the man skin out from under her bed. “You! Did you know?”

“Not until I got home.” Fennis admitted, crouching in a kitty pose on the bed.

Lakshmi looked stormy and then shook her head, laughing at herself and Fennis. “So much for a fling. Be right back!” She ran into her bathroom and Fennis made herself comfortable, curling up on Lakshmi’s quilt. The man emerged a few minutes later, severely encumbered by a big mer-tail. “This is what my assailant was wearing.” He explained, flopping down on the bed and flexing the tail.

Fennis sniffed its length and then straddled her boyfriend, gnawing on the fins. “Fish! Meow!”

Lakshmi now had a face full of Fennis’ ripe womanhood and tail. He stroked the tail for a few seconds, then took the fur clad rear in both hands, enjoying the feel of her soft butt and how he could grab it in both hands and still have plenty to spare. The soft, fur covered part squished in his grip and suddenly he couldn’t wait to show Fennis what real loving felt like. He pulled the bikini down and put the tip of his tongue inside her. She immediately let go of his fin. “No fair! I can’t do the same for you.”

A lot of wriggling, jiggling and touching followed, then they were in each other’s mouths, doing their best to show the other what oral sex was like when it was someone intimately familiar with what was good doing it for someone who had never experienced it before. It didn’t take either of them long for their first innocent orgasm and then their cum was mixing both above and below as Fennis turned around and kissed Lakshmi, their hands on each other to guide him into her. The frenzy, the relief, and the comfort send the merman and catgirl into sleep together, mutually in love and lustful of each other and themselves. Occasionally one would wake up a little, Lakshmi smiling gently at how Fennis purred and meowed quietly at his caress, and Fennis amused at how strong and virile Lakshmi felt, his arms around her and his body curled to accept her cuddling.

Staying in Character Part 1

By Paul Calhoun

A trade with Dieter Schaumer.

An actress playing a queen being slowly turned into a legendary wolf has to wear her costume home for budgetary reasons. Her boyfriend isn't very happy and after he refuses to have sex with her she has an idea to show him what it's like.

“… and so, Queen Anaria, I finally catch you without guards or magic to defend you.” The sorcerer Gyri said, standing over the prostrate body of the queen of Althwe. He extended a slippered foot from the black hem of his green and gold silken robe of office of the archmage of Kinsanna, a kingdom recently conquered by Althwe after a series of aggressive raids by Kinsanna on the small, idyllic mountain kingdom. “Come, come!” The archmage said. “Surely you have a few words to say to the new king of your country before I dispose of you.”

“You’ll never hold on long enough to enjoy your new dynasty.” Anaria said, looking up with tearfully defiant green eyes at the archmage rather than the teenage boy sitting on her throne. She tossed her long black hair in contempt for both of them even as she raised a hand to keep her torn blue and gold bodice from revealing more of her heaving bosom than she could.

Gyri made no attempt to pretend that the boy king Nyriel was anything but a puppet, nor that the shapely body of the queen was of any interest to him. He paced back and forth, always facing towards the front of the throne room. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“The Guardian will-“

“I’m not afraid of some mythical lupine monster you put on your crest to scare the peasants!” The archmage cried. “It’s the peasants that worry me. No, no, you’re right. Your army wouldn’t follow Nyriel any more than I’d follow a duck.” He knelt and smiled, holding Anaria’s chin. She shivered at the touch and tried to look away. “Your wolf may be your salvation yet, dear Anaria. What a pity it will also take such loveliness from this world.”

“You – no one will believe the beast of legends killed me.” She wavered, fear beginning to win over rage.

“No, but they’ll believe that you sacrificed yourself to call it.” The archmage said, quietly but with enough projection to be heard through the hall, empty as it was of any but himself, the queen and the new king. He drew slender, wicked looking rosewood wand from his robe and hummed a spell to himself as he paced around the queen, who looked beseechingly out and down the throne room. He raised and lowered his arms, sometimes altering the pitch or volume of the incantation that came so quickly that it seemed to be a single ululation.

“What have you done to me?” She whispered when he concluded his chant.

“Made you into the noblest thing this silly superstitious nation could hope to ever see in their lifetimes.” The archmage said, stowing the wand in his robe. “In time. The spell will take hold in a few moments and begin transforming you into the Guardian, the Gonwolf of Althwe. It won’t happen all at once. If it happens in stages, you see, then people will see and know that it is indeed you and that you are becoming the Gonwolf for their benefit , sacrificing your humanity to make sure that the new dynasty reigns justly and with honor.”

“What-“ she convulsed, losing her grip on her bodice and baring one breast as she clutched her belly. “What keeps me from telling everyone the truth?” She grated when she recovered.

“Oh, my dear, but the Gonwolf has never been known to be capable of speech. You will be able to talk at first, I grant, but truly do you think I’d let you walk among the people in those days? No, I will say it is too traumatic and that you don’t wish to be seen until you are later into the transformation. When they can be reassured by how much to resemble both yourself and the creature. There will be a few of those who you trusted who will be allowed to see you early on. So they can assure others that it is indeed you. Should you make any attempt to tell them the truth you die and they die and I have lost little more than I would have had I killed you right now.” He stepped back as she had another convulsion. “I believe that covers everything.”

“Great job everyone!” The director called as the mood lights turned off and the studio lights came on.

Jacob Kinney helped Christine Anne Kingsley to her feet. “Time for the big change, eh?” He said in a soft British accent.

In post, the animators would show her feet getting larger and then pan up, lingering on a bulge in her lower back and her tail slowly poking out from under her bodice. They’d continue, showing the growth of fur on her arms, claws extending from hands turning into thicker fingered paws. To her hair getting thicker and ears poking out. She’d turn her face to the camera and open her yellow eyes while fur grew out of her cheeks and her nose widened, becoming black and shiny. She’d open her mouth just as her teeth turned to sharpened canines. Then they’d switch perspectives to the mark she’d be on after changing costumes. For now, she’d had to act like it was happening and they’d use stills of her after putting the costume on to do the animation.

“I can hardly wait,” Christine said drily, reaching for the crown of her head.

“No, no!” Lisa Brown swooped on them and rapped Christine on the knuckles. “Bad girl! You know you’ll get the wig mussed if you take it off like that. Here,” she fluttered around the starlet, adjusting her costume and taking the wig to hand off to one of her assistants. “Everyone’s in a tizzy about getting you all fuzzed up, ducks, so we’d better hurry.”

“Don’t hurry too much on my account.” Jacob said as Lisa bustled off with Christine in her wake. “I’ve got plenty of scene chewing to do on my own and I wouldn’t mind getting ahead.”

“Hmph.” Lisa snuffled as they went to the costume department. “That boy always inflates his parts so terribly.” She extended a long, bony arm ahead as she opened the door. “Afer you, ducks.” She took the opportunity to tug on Christine’s dress. “You actors mess things up so much doing those big histrionics.”

“I don’t know why you’re fussing.” Christine said in a southern brogue that would have appalled her agent if she’d used it in public, brushing her hand through her short dirty blonde bob. Her growing popularity meant she had to moderate everything about herself, including what used to be a very thick accent and almost stereotypically long curly blonde hair. “You’re only taking it off me now. Besides, what’s a wrinkle or a rip on somethin’ so tattered?” She teased, pointing to the artful rips in bodice and skirt.

“Now don’t bait me, ducks!” Lisa said, wagging a long finger. “You know how hard it is to keep an R rating when you’re showing as much as you are and that’s without your ‘help’ in making the dress even more ragged.” She snorted. “And you know what a fit those continuity fellows pitch when you get one thread out of place in the wrong scene.” She crossed her arms. “So. Get your butt out of my dress and let’s start on the big transformation.” She moved over to her tool cart and began gleefully removing tools, bottles, jars and other accoutrements.

Lisa loved her job and Christine had long since grown accustomed to being starkers in the presence of the people who treated her body more like a canvas or a statue than something private attached to a person. She and Lisa conversed easily but as Christine very carefully slipped out of the torn gown and royal slippers, she was further convinced that Lisa’s perception of her was in two very distinct segments. There was the body she added clothing, prosthetics and makeup to and the person she spoke to who was Christine and was little more than a voice that occasionally did things that messed up her work on the body.

They’d been through several pictures together and were great friends, but even when they were off set at a restaurant somewhere, she could see Lisa checking on whether she’d gained or lost weight, where, and where her newest bits of makeup and seamcraft would be best displayed. It was a very thorough and totally clinical objectification that worked wonders on screen. Her agent was quite emphatic about movies keeping her recognizable even through makeup and prosthetics, and she trusted Lisa to make that happen. So far her faith had proved well placed, though the producer in this film had finally hammered through a clause that in a few scenes she’d be behind a more thorough mask, but only for maybe fifteen to twenty minutes of the movie total. Her agent had grumbled but she’d secretly been pleased. She was looking forward to those shoots where she got to really branch out as a feral monstrous wolf critter. She shook her imaginary mane and growled, earning a reproving glance from Lisa. “All right, ducks, time to hold still and let me do a bit of foundation work.”

The naked starlet sat back in the chair as Lisa played the airbrushes, puffs and other applicators over her body. This was the most relaxing part. When she wasn’t having to sit up straight and still, barley breathing, or squeeze into something two sizes too small. Or worse put something on her face that tasted of rubber. Lisa had heard that complaint often enough that she had assured her dress-up doll that she’d considered Christine’s comfort for once and had made the stuff near her mouth and nose totally tasteless and odorless. Christine was reserving judgment until it was on. She focused her breathing exercises to keep from fidgeting, knowing that Lisa was as nervous as she was though for different reasons. What was being applied was the foundation not for makeup that would be seen on set but for a costume that would cover her entire body. What made them both edgy was that since she was the only actor who had to wear an elaborate costume or prosthetic, the studio had decided to pay her and Lisa extra and keep on schedule by having her stay in the costume when she went home at night rather than remove it at the end of the day.

“All right, ducks, let’s get you bundled up.” Lisa said, guiding Christine into standing without disturbing the layers of cooling adhesive which would hold the costume on and give Christine a little extra comfort in it. She started with a long tube of dark brown fur with a stirrup at the end that Christine put her right foot in. Lisa had to call in one of her helpers to get it and its mate up Christine’s leg and when the helper blushed slightly at Christine’s state of undress, the actress decided she liked Lisa’s clinical attitude better. The artist had emphatically refused to let Christine help. “No, ducks, we don’t want you sweating yet or smearing your foundation any more than we have to.” She assured Christine with a light pat on the cheek. “Bend your knees now and let’s see how I did.” Christine obliged and walked a little circle around the room, marveling at how Lisa had designed it so that it even hugged her knees and gave her full range of motion. She pet the fur that looked like it was growing out of her legs. “I guess I’d better not gain any weight.”

“No! Or lose any!” Lisa said. “Everything is sized perfectly right now.” She slapped Christine’s rear. “No growing or shrinking, ducks. Not if we want to stay on schedule.”

She and her helper – who Christine found out was named Linsey when Lisa shouted at her for holding the arms wrong – put a pair of fingerless furred gloves on Christine with arms that reached up to her shoulders. After showing that she could bend her elbows to Lisa’s satisfaction, the artist actually looked apologetic as she held a short, hollow rubber tube that bulged at one end. “This one’s going to feel really strange, honey.” She said, spreading something slippery over it. Christine fought down tension. Lisa rarely called her ‘honey’ unless it was bad. Trusting Lisa, she bent and did her best to remain relaxed as Lisa slid it up her rectum and then put a differently shaped one into her vagina. “The good part is that everything that goes on top of it is interchangeable.” Lisa said, letting Christine recover. “So we won’t have to do that again all week.”

“I’m going to have these in me all week?” Christine squeaked.

“Yup.” Lisa said. A tiny bit of pride entered her voice. “I designed them myself so you could do just about anything with them that you’d do without them there. They keep the fur on top from getting all matted and yucky from going to the bathroom and that. You can clean yourself like normal with maybe a bit of extra work on the fur nearby if you’re messy. Your hygiene isn’t anything I ever had to worry about before.” She stuck out her tongue. “I hope you’re not too bad because I’d like to use this outfit again.”

“Uh … I’ll try.” Christine said.

“Great, ducks!” Lisa said brightly. “Let’s keep going then. The worst is over now.” She held up a furry body that held its curvy shape despite being empty of a wearer. The sleevelets and pantlets would cover the edges of the gloves and tights with what Christine had no doubt would be a seamless transition. She stepped into the open back and not for the first time had to be hung from a slender cord attached to a pulley to get the body to finally go all the way up. “I think I will need to lose some weight after all.” She said, brushing the belly.

“Nonsense.” Lisa said as she sewed the back closed with tiny stitches that would be almost imperceptible to touch and invisible even to the HD cameras in the studio. “It’s a grand fit. Look,” she said, having Linsey roll up a mirror so her subject could see the results so far, “it’s like you’re a real werewolf.”

“Gonwolf.” Christine corrected.

“Not till the end of the week, ducks.” Lisa replied.

Christine really was impressed. The costume fit so closely that she still felt naked and so well that she could move with no feeling of stretching or pull from the fabric. The first day’s bodysuit had short, velvety brown fur that highlighted all the best parts of her body. It held her breasts individually in darts that had been made with her exact measurements with a tuft in the cleavage and the same went for her butt, which was helped by the costume’s having a ring inside between the curves of the cheeks and between her legs that went a little way into the inserts Lisa had put in before. The detail between her legs was well hidden by the longer fur that went from between her boobs down her chest, widening over her belly and then narrowing again to go along her crotch so that when those parts were bare in front of the camera they wouldn’t be seen.

Lisa held up a short tail with a short, ridged metal rod which she slid into a hole just above Christine’s ass that had been hidden by fur. Christine yelped at that and almost jumped despite all her training with Lisa to stay still no matter what her costumer did. It felt very strange. Like something cold and tingly was going inside but only in a small area. Lisa squeezed her arm. “Didn’t expect it to be like that.” She explained. “It’s in now, so give it a try.”

Christine twisted so she could see her tail in the mirror and frowned as she tried to flex the prehensile rod without making her whole rear end move. “Oh!” She complained.

“Does it hurt, ducks?” Lisa asked worriedly.

“No. It’s fine.” Christine threw up her hands. “Now I have a whole new limb to emote with and I don’t have nearly enough time to learn how to do it properly!”

“Oh, actress stuff.” Lisa took out a pair of clawed feet. “Sit down and let me slip these on you.”

Christine yelped again when she sat on the tail. “Holy moly, Lisa! I can actually feel it when you touch it.” She said when the costumer stroked the tail to make sure she hadn’t damaged it.

“It’ll help your reactions on set, won’t it, Chrissy?” Lisa said cheerfully.

“Yeah, it will.” Christine said with awe at the skill of her artist friend. She sat cautiously and found a way to sit back without crushing her tail. Lisa slid her feet into the canine boots that were barely bigger than her regular feet and had them sewed on in a few minutes.

“Walk around a little.” Lisa fussed as Christine paced, adjusting the fit until the padded feet moved as naturally and comfortably as she could make them. Christine was glad for anything that minimized how long it would take her to acclimatize to having bigger feet. Motion was key on camera and the closer the wolf feet followed her normal stride the better. Close fitting black-clawed gloves followed and gain came the tests of dexterity, though since the gloves were exactly like her own hands but for a set of paw pads and claws she wasn’t as worried. Lisa frowned when she asked if the paw pads could be made smaller to make gesturing easier, but a quick consultation with the director and writer had them agreeing to make larger pads part of the next day’s transformation. So she got smaller pads for that day and could get used to them before going up a size.

Finally came something she was quite used to: sitting back for an hour or so as Lisa glued the facial prosthetics in place. The lupine mask came in pieces with little bits of fuzzy elastic that connected them so that Christine’s own facial structure was still recognizable and she could freely change her expression and speak without impediment. That day. The next would change that. For the time being she kept her expression totally neutral as the glue set and Lisa hid her ears with a longer, more mane-like wig of black hair in the same color she’d been wearing as Queen Anaria. A pair of dark brown wolf ears poked out of the top and it was secured to her scalp with an arrangement of glue that made sure that it flowed naturally but never revealed her human ears. She opened her mouth on command to have her teeth covered with canine dentures and to secure the lips to hers. To her amazement the whole set was as lacking in rubbery taste and smell as Lisa had promised and she was almost bubbly despite now being covered totally in fur and with a wolf mask glued to her face. She was even optimistic about the new contacts. She hated wearing them, but it was cheaper than making her eyes yellow and gold in post production and these were supposedly super comfy. She hoped so since she was going to have to sleep in them. They stung for a moment and then the feeling mostly disappeared so she was satisfied with that.

“How is it, ducks?” Lisa asked nervously. This was the moment where she was most vulnerable. She could deal with directors giving her grief, but she hated it when Christine had even the smallest problem.

Christine turned, bent, almost pressed her broad black nose to the mirror. She wagged her tail, tucked it between her legs, posed with her claws displayed and then with her hands one her hips and her back twisted in the way she was always shown in posters so that the horny men could see her bum and boobs in the same picture. It was the mask that impressed her the most. It kept her heart-shaped, high cheeked face intact while still being completely covered in fur and with a wider black canine nose which, like her lips, had been changed but still retained some aspect that made sure the audience could tell it was her. She smiled and licked the sharp teeth that were hers but pointy. She looked at Lisa, grinned with that wolfish face and spread her arms. Her costumer beamed back and hugged her. “You’re just a big ol’ teddy bear.” She said. “Best to run along, ducks. I’m sure everyone is just dying to see how you turned out.”

Christine threw on a robe and strutted confidently back into the studio, giving little swipes with her paw and ‘rawr’s to passing grips, assistants, and stagehands. Jacob was in the middle of a scene in which he was telling the Marshal of Althwe’s army that he would serve or die and Christine waited to enter so that she came in just as he ended a line about what spells the archmage would use if he was defied and how many would die if Marshall Alverin refused to submit. When the scene ended, Dereck came up and punched Christine lightly on the arm. “You weasel. I do not need help with my shocked look, thank you very much.”

“Weasel?” She growled, practicing the rougher, deeper voice she’d be using for when they called her back up for another scene. She bared her teeth. “Call me that again! I dare you.”

“Now now, children, behave.” Jacob said as he stepped off the platform they’d built the throne room on. “Lisa did a bang-up job this time. You look marvelous, dear.”

“I do, don’t I?” Christine said, raising her arms, shedding the robe and turning to show off her body.

“Egomaniac.” Jacob replied, tweaking her wide black nose. She snapped playfully at his hand and he laughed. “You’re a feisty puppy, aren’t you? Will’s a lucky man.”

“I don’t know…” Christine said. “He usually doesn’t like me taking my work home with me.”

“Honey, if I were twenty years younger I’d be ecstatic if Lily came home looking like you. But maybe I just enjoy a bit of rough animal style. Oops,” he winked, “it looks like Harold’s trying to get our attention. I think we’re up.”

Christine rolled her shoulders. “Up we go then.”

“Lisa outdid herself,” Jacob said as he took his place standing above her as she lay on her side with one arm out in a pose of exhausted pain. The lights changed and they got their cue.

“Come now! It wasn’t as bad as all that.” The archmage said jovially as he reached down to pull the queen up to sit with her back on the wall. A camera off to one side was filming this so that they could focus in on her face. “Surely-“

“Cut!”

“What now?” Jacob asked peevishly.

“Lisa forgot to give Christine her dress back.”

“Oh for-“ Jacob looked heavenward. “This is what we get for hiring such lovely leading ladies. We get so wrapped up ogling them that we lose track of important things like clothes.” He grinned at Christine as a hand ran to get the dress. “I suppose I should have guessed that I wasn’t supposed to be getting nearly the eyeful that I am.”

“You’re fine, but we don’t want to scandalize the folks in row eight.” Christine joked back.

Lisa ran in with the dress and a brush, mumbling an apology to the director and an annoyed snuffle at how Christine’s fur wasn’t arranged right if she was supposed to have just been changed. When everyone else had been chased off and Christine was back in her royal blue and gold gown, she lay back in her ‘hurt’ curl and Jacob took his place standing triumphant again. They got as far as her sitting up when the director insisted on a close-up of her face and she regarded the camera with large, lambent liquid eyes until the director was satisfied. She knew not to summon tears that would flow and potentially soak into the fur of her mask or loosen the glue.

The director called for the next scene and she struggled to her feet, defiantly refusing to take Jacob’s hand. She fell fully back into character, raising her chin and asking in a voice that resonated with a deep growl, “Am I to be chained like a common dog for your amusement, wizard?”

“Your highness!” The Gyri said, clutching his heart dramatically as Anaria’s eyes widened momentarily at not being addressed as ‘majesty’ and then a glare at his using her new title. “You wound me. Your chambers and comforts will remain unchanged, save that you will have but one maid. I’m sure Tamsin will be happy to stay on, but the rest of your staff will have to be kept way. For their own protection, of course.” He added as she snarled at him. “Your transformation may make you dangerous for a time before your master your inner beast. I’m also certain you would not speak of my involvement in your change to your dearest friend, nor would you lash out at her.” He held her chin and she snarled again. He laughed. “We shall also have to find garb more fitting of the legendary Gonwolf. Your legs must be allowed to move freely if you are to pursue the unjust and your arms must be unfettered to best rend their flesh.” He tore the dress off of her along the premade rip seams.

Anaria covered herself with her paws, her tail between her legs. Then her head snapped up to bare all her teeth as she focused back on her captor. Her growl grew in menace as the archmage surveyed his handiwork. “Lovely even in this beastly form.” He said. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers and call Tamsin to educate her in her new duties. You must have all the comforts that can be given during your transition.”

The lights offstage rose again and Christine slapped Jacob’s hand away as he playfully lunged at her. “Down boy!”

Jacob panted at her and grinned. “I’m going to need a cold shower soon.”

“Go and cool off, then. My next scene isn’t with you, thank goodness.”

Lisa was on them the moment Christine stepped off the stage. She peered into Christine’s eyes until the actress finally broke. “What?”

“The lights are too hot for the glue.” Lisa said. “You’re starting to peel.” She took a pot out of her pocket. “Hold still.” She stuck some of the mask back on to Christine’s face and then turned on the director. “You’d better get the thermostat down ten degrees or you won’t be on schedule much longer. Either that or lower the lights.”

Harold sighed. “That’s not going to be a popular decision with those of us not under the lights.”

“Tough. You wanted her to wear that long term, you’re going to have to deal with it.”

Harold had a whispered conference with some of the hands and nodded to Christine. “Your next few scenes are in your chambers anyway. We lower the temperature a couple degrees without much fuss and the lighting there won’t be as strong. Happy?” He said to Lisa.

“That’ll work for today, but we’ll have to figure out another arrangement soon.” Lisa reminded him.

“Twenty-four hours is a long time in shooting,” the Harold replied. “I’m positive that a lot of headless chickens have already been released. Okay, Chrissy, set two. Dinah! Where – oh, hello, honey. Yes, up with Chrissy for the scene. Remember your character. You’ve been serving her majesty since you were a little girl and grew devoted to her. Remember! Seeing her like this will be a big shock but one you’ve been warned about. Balance that. You know in your head, but not your heart but you also don’t want to upset the woman who is your whole life. Go! Oh, and Chrissy your character is preoccupied with her curse, worried about saying the wrong thing to Tamsin, needing sympathy but trying to keep her convinced you chose to do this. Mix all that together and go for it!”

Queen Anaria stood, her head bowed and shoulders tense. Her entire body was perfectly still, fighting competing urges to throw herself on the bed, beat on the door, and pace. She turned as the door opened and Tamsin knocked. “Your ma – your highness?” She asked meekly. “Eep!” She squeaked when Anaria turned around completely, her tail swishing briefly at the sight of her favorite maid.

“Hello, Tamsin,” she said with a brave smile. Her maid shrank back from the mouthful of sharp teeth and Anaria put her paws on her hips. “It’s still me, Tamsin!” She said, the growl in her voice growing stronger with her frustration.

“I’m sorry, your highness.” Tamsin said. She slipped in and closed the door.

Anaria stared for a moment at the young woman cowering in the corner and then sat down. “Please, Tamsin. This is hard enough without you being frightened. It’s me.” She looked up at her maid beseechingly and Tamsin smiled shyly, stepping forward.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t expect-“ She bit her lip.

“You weren’t expecting your lady to have changed so rapidly?” Anaria asked. Tamsin nodded. “I don’t know how fast the changes are, but you’ll always be safe with me.” She tossed her head. “My hair is a mess.”

“Let me.” Tamsin sat beside her and began brushing Anaria’s hair. Offstage, the actors could see Lisa staring intently at Dinah, making sure she didn’t hurt the costume. Tamsin moved the brush down and Anaria jumped. “Is that all right, highness?” Tamsin asked, stopping.

“Yes – yes.” Anaria put her paw on Tamsin’s hand. “I guess I’ll need a lot more brushing from now on.” She arched her back as Tamsin moved the brush down – pushing her fur covered boobs towards the camera – and then stood to let the young woman finish brushing. Luckily for the take, Dinah’s back was to the camera when she got her first close look at the costume from below and Christine was able to keep the expression of building relaxation and affection for her servant despite wanting to burst into giggles or push the brush into less sensitive spots. She jumped when Tamsin went over her tail, but turned it into part of the performance, acting as unaccustomed to the tail in character as she was in reality and twisting around to wag it experimentally. “I should find something to wear.” She said as Tamsin finished flicking the brush across her feet.

“His honor Gyri told me that you were to wear something less restrictive than a court gown.” Tamsin said, sounding doubtful that her lady would be properly garbed in anything less.

“I must agree,” Anaria said, the growl growing in the back of her throat, “that I do not wish my … new fundamental anatomy … to be covered. It is quite sensitive right now.”

“All right, wardrobe montage!” The director called. Christine sagged, but bore up as she was made to model a succession of gowns, split skirts, peasant dresses and other ‘period flavor’ outfits all while pretending to be enjoying it and looking at herself critically. If they weren’t on a schedule, she might have actually enjoyed trying out all those dresses on her new wolf body. By the end she was in what Tamsin on screen called a ‘scandalous’ green corset that left her shoulders and arms bare as well as ending above her tail, and a pale green split skirt that went just below the knee. Then she and Dinah got to have some time to sit and chat about their lives and the studio as they shot a silent piece showing how comfortable the two characters had gotten which would have uplifting music added for production. “I’m really jealous.” Dinah said as Christine sat in an ornate chair and Dinah pretended to be doing some domestic tasks around the bedroom set. “You’re the lead anyway, but with that on…” She stopped and touched Christine’s arm. “Everyone will be paying attention to you. You look so sexy and like you’ve really been turned into a wolf thing.”

“Your time will come, hon!” Christine said, squeezing Dinah’s arm back. “Besides, I have to live in this, remember? Sensational or not, it’s going to be a pain getting to my place and back without being seen. And my boyfriend’s probably not going to be very happy.”

“No?” Dinah pretended to dust a wardrobe.

“No.” Christine replied. “He likes playing dress-up, but he also likes taking it all off when he’s done.”

“Yeah, I guess mine would be all fun and foreplay at first, but he might get tired of spooning a giant stuffed animal and want his girlfriend back eventually.”

“Thank goodness it’s not that bad yet. Later this week…” Christine bit her lip and had to be reminded by the director to stay cheerful and Lisa not to scratch her mask with her false canines.

“Great!” Harold called a few minutes later. “Christine, you can go home for the day. Jacob, Dinah, we need to do the previous scene. Christine has two more tomorrow before her next stage in transformation, so let’s get her done early so we can have a big block of others done while she’s in the chair.”

Christine padded back to her dressing room where Lisa had laid out an outfit for her to go out in. The studio didn’t want anyone getting a good look at her costume and spoiling things, so she was stuck wearing an extra layer on top of the fur. Lisa had done her best with a long, loose white linen skirt and a green and white striped sweater with extra long sleeves that she could pull her paws into when she was out in public. A pair of soft booties to protect her feet was followed by the kind of huge sunglasses that everyone but Christine seemed to think all young women should wear, a shawl and a bandana. All in all, she thought, no one would know it was her much less her in a wolf suit. When Lisa came in to check on her, she said, “The skirt and top are a bit genki girl.”

Lisa laughed. “I was a teenage werewolf geek. Watch what you say or someone will think that’s a good idea and you’ll be right back in that costume doing a B movie parody. Is Will picking you up?”

Christine nodded. “The studio’s letting us borrow a driver and a car for going back and forth, though, so he’s there entirely to make sure nobody bothers me.”

“He’s a good man.”

Christine nodded again and adjusted the sunglasses. “I love him even though I know he’s going to be down on me spending a week straight in costume like this.” She pulled her paws into her sleeves and went out. William was waiting for her in the lobby, staring vacantly out the door and down the road at the ever present collection of photo journalists who hung around the entrances of movie lots hoping for a good shot. Knowing Will was going to be unenthusiastic anyway, Christine decided she may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb and removed the shawl, sunglasses and bandana, stretching her arms over her head to free her paws from the sleeves of her sweater. She pulled the elastic waistband down so her tail poked out and wagged it to show how she felt about what she was about to do.

Christine crouched down, finding that her tail naturally arched so it kept low when she did so. Creeping forward, she got right behind Will before she saw the guard at the desk looking at her. She put a claw to her furry, split lips and the guard recognized her facial features well enough to grin and turn slightly away, though she kept one eye on Christine to see how her boyfriend handled what was coming. Christine jumped up and wrapped her arms around Will, pressing her cold black nose against his neck and leaping into the air so her weight fell on him. “Hi, honey!”

“Blargh!” Will said. “Christine!” He laughed. “Stop sneaking up on me, and what was that cold – gack!” He’d finally turned and seen his lupine girlfriend.

Christine put her paw on her hip and pretended to look exasperated. “Is that any way to react to seeing your beautiful girl after a day away?”

“Chrissy…” Will glared at her. “What’s all that?”

“What this?” She held out a fold of her skirt and turned in a model’s pirouette. “Just a little something I threw together to surprise you with. Surprise!” She wagged her tail and pretended to pant at him.

“You know what I mean.”

Christine held his face in her paws and pressed her masked lips against his, keeping the pressure up with her tongue until he reluctantly opened his mouth and kissed her back. He relaxed a little in her embrace. “See? It’s not so bad,” she crooned. “We’re on a tight schedule, so I’m going to have to stay in costume all the time so I can do my scenes whenever they need me. Don’t you remember me telling you?”

“I thought you meant coming home and going to work in some princess dress. Not … this!”

Christine tweaked his nose. “Now how would that be a big savings in time? You know I do a lot of work in these sorts of prosthetics and that. It’s ironically less expensive these days than animating me.” She picked up her headgear and covered herself up again, gladly accepting Will’s help when he softened and tugged her sleeves over her paws.

He held her like he always did on the way to the car, a close embrace that gave her security and screened her from stray photographers. He even opened the car door for her and helped her in before sliding in next to her a little more slowly than usual. She immediately reached back to untie the bandana and Will put his hand on her paw. “We’ll be there soon. Shouldn’t you leave that on?”

Christine looked at him as she continued removing her disguise. “I’m hot, Will. Look at this.” She rolled up her sleeves. “It’s all over and with the mask on my face I don’t cool off easily. Besides,” she cuddled up to him and rubbed his chest. “You know you like it.”

He put his arm around her and massaged her back. “You do look cute…” He said at length. “Do you really have to keep the mask on?”

“That’s what takes the longest,” she pressed the nose into his belly and was rewarded by a cry of dismay at the cold. She relaxed as he pet her and lay her head on his chest. “It’s only for a week, honey.” She wheedled, her accent getting stronger. “Let me be your lil’ puppy dog.”

“I’m sorry, Chrissy, I’m just not into that.” Will said. “I’ll try to be more supportive, but I can’t pretend I like it.”

Christine nuzzled him. “That’s all I can ask. Pretend I’m not wearing it.” She pushed his hand under the sweater. “I’m totally me under this.”

Will obligingly let his hand wander up her belly and to her chest. She squirmed at his touch and growled. “That feels so good.” She unzipped his pants and ran her claw down the length of his shaft. “How does this feel?”

“Those pads, ”he gasped, “feel pretty good.”

“Good.” She slid up to kiss him. He slowed down and she scratched him lightly on the cheek. “Now, honey, remember when you grew a beard? I wasn’t thrilled but I got used to it.”

Will smiled at that. “You would bring that up.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“Then…” She pushed him down but they’d barely regained their amorous rhythm when the car stopped. Christine sat up and ran her paw down her hair as she looked for the bandana. “I should have told Lisa to take the wig off.” She said.

“That would have helped.” Will said. “With the heat and … other things.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have these adorable little ears!” Christine said. “And wouldn’t I look like a silly doggy without her ears.” She shook her sleeves down and shrugged. “How do you feel about a bit of erotic brushing?”

Christine had hung the skirt and sweater up within moments of their arriving at the three-room house she’d bought in the suburbs. When she descended the stairs wearing nothing over the costume, Will whistled and Christina threw a sock she found on one of the steps at him. “That’s so bad!”

“So is walking around the house buck naked.” Will countered.

“I am one hundred percent not naked.” Christine said. She turned away, craned her head around to look over her shoulder at Will, bent over and wagged her tail. “I just look very suggestive.”

Will took a handful of brown furred buttock and squeezed, eliciting a squeak of outraged delight from Christine, who straightened up and threw her arms around him. “So I’m sexy?” She said in a soft voice.

“I’m not sure there’s anything that can stop that,” Will said, smiling as his human nose rubbed her canine one.

“Maybe I ought to put something on.” Christine said.

“Only if you want to, I know you’re hot.” Will leered. “In so many ways.”

Christine cupped his chin in her paw. “Perv.” She drew away and started up the stairs.

“Too bad they didn’t give you holes for your nipples.” Will called up. “You’d look a lot more natural and sexy that way.”

“Yeah, well…” Christine exited their bedroom tugging on a pair of ripped jeans and holding a belly shirt in her paw. “R rated movie, hon. Take it up with Lisa if you want me to make any changes when she gives this to me at the end of the shoot.” She looked up in surprise from the button she’d given up on fastening. “Wait, so you want me to put it on again?”

“Honey, I’d be ecstatic except for you being stuck. I like being able to get rid of the costume and feel your skin when things get hot. And that mask. I like kissing the real you.”

“Aw, thanks. Now go make dinner.”

“Alpha-“

“Finish that and I will totally bite you somewhere uncomfortable.” Christine warned him.

“By the way, I actually kind of like the teeth.” Will said from the kitchen.

“Really?” Christine asked as she settled in the love seat.

“Yeah. It makes kissing you feel dangerous.” He emerged with a pair of plates and a tray table.

“I’ll show you dangerous!” She said, growling and pretending to try to take one of the plates away from him in her mouth.

“I think you’d look adorable with just the teeth in. I also think the eyes are nice. Those two by themselves could be fun.” He said, poking one of her sharpened canines.

She rested her head on his shoulder as he sat next to her and he stroked her leg, playing with the fur sticking out of the holes in the jeans.

“So, Chrissy…” He nuzzled her hair, staying clear of the ears poking out.

“Yeah, hon?”

“How are you going to eat?”

Christine looked at her paws and opened her mouth. “I’m actually getting pretty good with these pads on.” She picked up a fork and easily got the food in without it touching the fur around her mouth. “See?” She said smugly, worrying at the next bit with her sharp dentures.

Will stroked the fur on her cheek. “Showoff. I was ready to be a good boyfriend and feed you.”

Christine snuggled into him, twisting to put her head on his chest and free her tail from the cushions. “You can be a good boyfriend other ways tonight.” She yawned as she took another bite, wagging half heartedly at the thought of them getting intimate. Unlike Will, the idea of going to bed with him while dressed as a werewolf made her warm inside.

Will rubbed her side. “Are you up for much? You said that was hot and it must be hard work at the studio.”

“Mmm…” Christine murmured, closing her eyes to enjoy his massage. “I think I’d like to sleep on the window side of the bed tonight.”

“Chrissy, it’s October. I was going to turn the heat on tonight.”

“Please…” Chrissy sighed. “I’ll be your extra blanket.”

“All right.” Will squeezed. “It’s probably for the best anyway. I’m not sure I could … well, I mean with you in that mask and I never had a thing for hair and …”

Christine kissed him lightly. “S’okay.” She yawned again and didn’t open her eyes again. A few minutes later Will gently guided her down onto his lap and shifted her so he could pick her up as he stood. He carried her upstairs to the bedroom and opened the window, setting her down on the bed near it. She immediately stretched out, hugged herself and started rolling around. At least, he thought as he burrowed down, she wouldn’t hog the covers.

He woke up with her sprawled out on top of him, providing a very effective extra layer against the cold of the room. With the black wig pooled around her head, the jeans and cutoff tee still on, and her face down in the covers, she looked almost normal. He had to admit that even with the mask she was really just a doggy, fuzzy version of herself and he resolved to make it up to her for the night before when she woke up. He sped the process by stroking her back until she stirred and then yelped when he tried to fondle her tail. “You can feel that?” He asked as she reached towards her face to scratch an itch, realized it was the glue holding her mask on, and forced herself to ignore the scratchiness of her mask as some of her skin shed while other parts were still glued on.

“Uh-huh.” She burrowed under the covers and pressed her nose against his belly and it was his turn to yell as the plastic cooled by a night in a room with the window open made contact. “Like that.” She said.

“Weird.” He said as she emerged.

“It helps with reactions.” She explained, blinking away the sleep and the soreness of keeping the contacts in all night. “How do you think I could do this?” She wagged the tail and then arched it over her back. “It’s in … deep.”

“Oh… but you can still –“

“Yeah, hon. Try not to think too hard about it.”

“No arguments here.” He sat up and ran his hand through her wig. “I think I’ll try that brushing now.”

“Yes!” She jumped up and came back with a thick brush, throwing the shirt aside in her excitement. “Gogogo!”

“Down, girl!” He started at the top and worked down her body, enjoying the very Christine arch of her back as it passed over her narrowing waist and flaring hips and the even higher arch when she rolled over and he made sure the little tuft between her boobs was tidy. “I’d better do this part by hand,” he said, pulling her jeans down and carefully working the knots out between her legs as she vocalized her pleasure. A pair of clawed paws pressed against the back of his head and he pressed his face between her thighs. Her smell hadn’t changed at all, but his first lick got a mouthful of fur and he sat up. “Sorry, Chrissy. I can’t get into it like this.”

Christine pouted, sitting up as well and hanging her head like a sad dog. “No?” She said in a small voice.

“Sorry.” He repeated. “I’ll get something to dry you off with.”

“What if you just close your eyes and let me-“ she began as he dabbed at her with a towel.

“Chrissy, no.” He said. “I wanted to be intimate, but I can’t get over this. Maybe if we’d talked about it before and I’d had some say. Like if it were a costume we’d bought for each other. But not a professional one. I’m sort of afraid of messing it up.” He finished lamely.

“Really?” She asked.

“No, I suppose not.” He sighed. “You look adorable, but I can’t get in stride when every place I touch is fuzzy. It doesn’t feel right. You move like you, sound like you, act like you. But you don’t feel like you or always look like you. It’s offputting.”

“All right, all right.” She said. “I’m not exactly going to force you, am I?” She got up. “I guess the fact I woke up in the clothes I feel asleep in should have been a sign. She kissed him on the forehead. “Your loss.” She teased, swinging her hips at him as she went into the bathroom.

“Yeah…” He said to himself after she closed the door. “I sort of think it might be.”

Harold met Christine on her way in. “Change of plans. We’re doing the big speech scene this morning and all the others are being moved to change number two along with part of the wardrobe montage. We want to show more passage of time before the general’s visit and how Tamsin is surprised but not very bothered by change number two. We’ll move the general’s visit to change two and Tamsin’s confession to change three.”

Christine resisted pinching her nose – which wouldn’t have worked anyway – and nodded shortly. “Right, right. So I get checked over and decked out by Lisa, speech scene and right back to Lisa for the second change.”

“Good girl.” Harold patted her on the back and hurried off towards the film studio as Christine turned to go to Lisa’s. “Oh, and we worked out a way to do a bit of lighting enhancement in post and everyone agreed that we could lower the thermostat.” He called over his shoulder.

“Looking good, ducks.” Lisa said as Christine walked in. “Shouldn’t need more than a little touching up and brush work.” Christine sat and in what felt like an incredibly short time Lisa had reapplied some of the adhesive and straightened out her fur, clucking over a loose claw on her foot and a wobbly paw pad. “Your face’ll have to wait,” she said when Christine mentioned the itch. “I’ll clean you off when you come back for the second mask, kay ducks? And don’t scratch!”

“Easy for you to say.” Christine grumbled, crossing her arms.

“Which one of us gets to be on magazine covers?” Lisa helped Christine into a leather chest harness and a belt with a leather panel front and back that covered exactly as much as was necessary to keep their rating. The panels and the center of the harness had green plastic circles with painted runes that would look like gold embossed gem stones on camera. Christine struggled for awhile with the bracers that had the same gem-like adornments until Lisa helped loosen and tighten the buckles. She tied pair of low heeled calf-strap sandals and sent Christine on her way.

“Stand back! Warrior princess coming through!” Jacob shouted as she came in.

Christine bared her teeth at him as he helped her up onto the stage. “This isn’t even your scene. Take a hike.”

“I have to stand behind you and look sinister.” Jacob reminded her. “Isn’t that right, Harry?”

The director nodded. “We thought it would add atmosphere. Besides, you have to do the scene right before this one next, so we may as well keep him here so he doesn’t run off.”

Christine stepped up onto the balcony set and turned a warning golden eye at Jacob. “Hands off the merchandise, buddy.”

Jacob raised his spread palms. “No touching happening here. Much as I’d love some time with that exquisite tail.” He added, waggling his eyebrows.

Christine wagged it in his face. “For my boyfriend and scenes where it’s integral to the plot.”

“Tease.”

“Lech.”

“Well, now you’ve established antagonism, let’s move on with the scene.” Harold said. “Five seconds!”

Christine took a deep breath of crisp air and remembered her character. She’d rehearsed this speech out of costume several times to get the feel of the rhythm. When she felt like she had it down, Queen Anaria opened her eyes and surveyed the imaginary group of loyal soldiers, retainers, and handpicked nobles that had gathered under the balcony of her suite to hear her speak. She summoned a smile for them and even raised her tail from between her legs where the stress of having to lie to all of them had put it. “My loyal subjects.” She said with a soft voice but loudly enough for them to hear, trying to keep the rumbling undertones steady. “I know that many of you have feared for me. I thank you, but as you can see I am unharmed.” She tapped her claws on the rail and smiled crookedly. “Relatively. I made this choice. I made it for the good of the kingdom and though many of you may have misgivings about your new ruler,” she shot a glance over her shoulder, pretending to forget that the boy prince was on her right and instead looked at Gyri, “know that I will remain to keep our traditions as the symbol of our people. As you can see, I am receiving the greatest honor an Althewean can hope for. I will become the legend, I will be your Gonwolf.” Her body shook and she hunched her shoulders, her tail hanging limp as she thought about what was to come and what she wished she could say. “It is a great sacrifice, but I am equal to the task I have been given the opportunity to embrace.” She closed her eyes and grasped the balcony rail as they turned on a fan to add a breeze to ruffle the longer fur on her body and face, though it would have looked more impressive in change two. She wished she could hold that pose and enjoy the air being blown over her, but pressed on with the speech. “Althwe is greater for the sacrifices of every man, woman and child who has supported us in our wars and in our prosperity. This is my gift to all of you, to be your protector in the best way I can be. Our enemies will see me and know our strength, our resolve. My subjects, weep not for the loss of your queen but celebrate the arrival of a beast of legend come forth to walk among you again. When the change is complete, you will have the great Gonwolf with you, protecting you and striking down our enemies.” She stood up straight and looked out past the keep wall. “Walk proudly, my subjects, for you shall have your queen beside you. I -” since the mask was going to come off soon anyway, she let a tear fall, “I thank you for all you have done. As long as you remain a good people, Althwe will be great and I will be the symbol of that nobility of spirit.” She turned and left, Nyriel stepping forward to say whatever he’d planned on to assure the assembly that their former queen would be safe and that he would try to emulate her sacrifice or something like that. All words put in his mouth by Gyri, who followed her in.

“Very good, your highness.” He said. “Even I was convinced of your sincerity. Of course I would never hazard your person in battle, fearsome though you may become.”

“No. I suppose you have already disposed of me politically, wizard. It makes no sense to lose your inspirational figurehead.” Anaria replied coldly, the rumbling undertone growing in strength as she snarled at him. “Now unless you wish to parade me in front of my subjects any further, I will be returning to my suite to change into something less ridiculous.” She swept past him and –

“Cut! Back to marks.” Harold called.

“What?” Christine asked, aggrieved at losing her momentum.

“You turned too fast the wrong way and flashed the camera.” Harold said.

“Oh come on!”

“It only has to last one frame and someone catches it.” Harold said apologetically. “You know how it is these days now that we’re doing about a billion fps.”

Christine tossed her head. “It’s not like there’s anything to see.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Chrissy.” Jacob grinned. “There’s a lot to see.”

“Most of it on display already.” Christine shot back. She stomped back to her mark and sighed as Lisa fussed with her wig and made sure her ears weren’t flopping. Then she brightened and her tail swept back and forth. “So the big speech scene went off?”

“Beautifully, honey.” Harold said. “Not a hitch.”

“I’m going to hold you to that next week.” She told him.

“Let’s not go crazy.” He smiled back at her. “All right, try to get back in character.”

Christine rolled her shoulders and used the leer Jacob gave her as a jumping off place for her outrage. She repeated the scene and made sure that her exit put more of her emoting in her tail and her face, working the mask hard to make the expressions she needed, and pushing her tail down at the very end just in case. Harold was satisfied and Christine jumped down and almost ran to the bedroom set. “I’m glad to see someone’s having fun,” Jacob said.

“I’m feeling a lot better.” Christine told him.

“You’re lucky my costume’s heavy or I’d be complaining about the cold.”

Christine put her paws on her hips as Jacob didn’t make a move to get up onto the set. “Oh no. I’m not letting you ‘help’ me up from down here.”

“Have a heart, Chrissy.” Jacob said. “I’ve never copped a feel of a wolf butt before.”

“Up!” Christine ordered and scrambled up herself without taking the offered hand. She was getting to her feet when the writer ran in. “Wait! Stay right there.” Christine remained her on her paws and knees as the screenwriter had a whispered conference with Harold and one of the producers. After a lot of arguing, Harold walked up to Christine. “All right, Kincaid had an idea and after a bit of wrangling I think it’s a good one. We’re going to have your character ‘trying out’ walking around on all fours and acting like a wolf for a few seconds before Jacob makes his entrance. We’d have Dinah up here to be supportive about it, but we’re short on time.”

“That reminds me. I’m no continuity expert,” Christine said, settling into a cross legged sit, “but how can we do the clothes montage with change two if I’m doing the speech in change one?”

Harold frowned and then shouted, “Kincaid!” The screenwriter ran over. “Tell him what you told me.”

Christine asked the question and Kincaid rolled his eyes. “I said move the montage to change two and bridge with change one’s speech.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Harold asked.

“Never mind.” Kincaid sighed. “You’d better put the speech back in change two.”

“Oh no! Christine performed brilliantly on that speech and we’re not making her do it again in another costume.”

“It would be a good backup.”

“No!”

“Tick tock, kids,” called a passing producer.

“New strat,” Kincaid said. “We put change two’s solicitude scene back in.”

“It’s going to be close.” Harold replied.

“When isn’t it?”

“Fine, fine. We’re going to lose half this in editing anyway. Back on your knees, Chrissy. Jacob, get ready to knock when I give the signal. Right, motivation curiosity and fatalism, go!”

“Wait!” Lisa jumped up on stage and took Christine’s armor off with a ‘you idiot’ look at Harold, handing the pile of leather to Jacob with a glance that warned him not to mess with it. “One less fit for the editors.”

“Can we get on with this?” Christine asked. “My hands are padded, but my knees aren’t.”

“Oh but to be behind you right now.” Jacob said.

“One more word and I’m docking you for harassment, Kinney,” one of the producers said.

“You know I’m not serious.”

“Don’t push your luck. Oh, and put a dress on Christine. We can’t risk-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lisa produced one of the skirt/top ensembles from the clothing montage and helped Christine into it.

“I’m not bending over again until I know we’re ready.”

“We’re ready! We’re ready! God damn, but we’re ready!” Harold said. “Go for it with whatever’s left of your concentration.”

Christine took a deep breath, silently thanking Lisa for putting enough give in the body suit of her costume that the her furry skin expanded and contracted naturally. She decided that with all the distractions that had broken her train she was going to take the whole thing slow and get into character and maybe give the editors some extra scene to play with. Queen Anaria stood, able to consider her new body privately in a way she’d never do in public. She touched her tail, wincing at how it twitched and how she could feel it now. She looked in the mirror, baring her teeth to examine and flexing her paws. She swished her skirt and looked down, thinking. Slowly, reluctantly, she sank to her knees and put her paws on the ground, looking like she was thinking about something weighty. Like how this would be her permanent perspective soon. She shuffled around, looking at her lupine face in the mirror. She growled at herself, whined, howled softly. It was as much herself as her character acting as she dwelt on her next couple of costume changes. The knock took Christine by surprise as much as her character and she jumped to her feet guiltily, checking to make sure there wasn’t dust on her skirt before she opened the door.

“Ah, your highness!” Gyri said, effusive in his victory over the queen. “Are you ready to speak to your loyal retainers?”

“If I must lie in order to save their lives, that is what I will do.” Queen Anaria said archly. “You need not take so much pleasure in your victory.”

“Your highness!” Gyri replied. “I am merely expressing how much I appreciate your wisdom.” He stepped back and frowned, his eyes roaming over her body. A little too much, Christine thought, as she glared at him. “Well?” Both she and the queen asked.

“That dress. It won’t do.”

“Am I to appear naked?” Queen Anaria asked. “I will countenance much, but I will not be paraded to show every inch of my cursed form.”

“Of course not,” Gyri assured her. “I would never affront your dignity so. Even when you are fully changed, you will be garbed as befits the Gonwolf. As you ought to be now.” He presented the pile of armor Lisa had handed him before the scene began. “This armor was made in the image of what your artists show the Gonwolf wearing. Made for someone transitioning between human and beast, of course.”

Anaria looked disgusted as she held up the skimpy armor, made to look like the war harness of the wolf. “I will not wear this abomination.”

“Then you will not speak.” Gyri said.

Anaria growled and pulled her upper lip back. “Leave me! Send in my maid to help me dress.”

“As you wish, highness.” Gyri sketched an all too short bow and left.

“Hold position! Dinah? Where’s Dinah? Oh, you’re so quiet, dear. Up you go then.” Dinah leapt up onto the set seemingly without effort and took her place behind the door. “All right, scene continues. And remember to be careful about what is showing to which camera, Chrissy!”

“Your highness?” Tamsin knocked softly as she opened the door. “I was right outside. Is there a problem?”

Anaria looked for a moment at her maid and then shook her head quickly. “No, my dear. A simple argument over propriety. I must reluctantly agree with the sorcerer that I should dress the part when in public, even though I have yet to go into the advanced stages of my afflic – my new condition.”

Tamsin looked like she wanted to say something, but then nodded and smiled at her queen. She picked up the chest harness. “It is pretty even if there is so little of it. You will look as regal in this as anything else. Like Queen Demetria who led her army into battle.”

“Demetria.” Anaria said. Her eyes softened. “I am honored to be compared to such a courageous woman. Thank you.” She let her paw rest on Tamsin’s hand for a little longer than was proper before turning her back to her maid. “Let us prepare.”

Tamsin picked at the ties on Anaria’s blouse, Dinah momentarily having difficulty with the knots Lisa had made. “Your bravery is the talk of the castle, highness.”

“They do me too much honor.” Anaria said, rolling her shoulders to help her maid remove the blouse. Christine’s training kept her from showing her relief at Harold not interfering there. She was positioned correctly this time, thank goodness.

“You’re giving up your humanity for them, ma’am. There is no greater honor they can give than to praise that every day.”

Anaria let another tear fall, making sure Tamsin couldn’t see as she undid the skirt and helped her queen out of it. This was a tricky shot and three cameras had been set up. They wanted to show the entirety of Christine’s bare brown furry back, her tail and a generous amount of PG-13 (thank goodness this didn’t count technically as nudity) curve. The problem of course being that since this was a ‘live-in’ costume, there was the matter of the sometimes hidden sometimes not labial lips covered by shaggy fur and the fact that her nipples stood out under the fabric. So they had several angles to pick from in post. “Annie.” She said quietly.

“Ma’am?” Tamsin buckled the chest harness around Anaria. Christine didn’t have to manufacture a wince as Dinah accidentally pulled one of the straps so it was too tight over her fur covered bosom.

“Call me Annie … Tammy. I won’t be able to speak soon and I would like at least one person to know they can be familiar with me before I cannot give permission anymore.”

“Your – Annie… Thank you.” Tamsin buckled the belted loin piece as Anaria slipped on the bracers and knelt to tie up her sandals.

“You’re my only ser … friend as I make this transition, Tammy.” Anaria said. “You will be named my companion when I am fully Gonwolf. I will make sure that the title comes with at least a barony.”

“You … you are too generous, ma – Annie.” Tamsin stepped back and let Anaria look at herself in the mirror.

It was Christine’s first time getting to really see how the costume looked on her wolf body and as the lupine queen twisted to look and tweaked the leather armor, Christine checked herself out. It was a good look for her, she thought. The colors and cut complimented her well and turned the cute wolf girl into an exotic warrior woman. Twitching her black nose and letting her tail swing a couple of times, queen Anaria sniffed, “It’s absolutely appalling, but it will have to do.”

“I think you look very noble, Annie.” Tamsin ventured.

Christine agreed but her character had to act more aloof. “I am nearly naked, Tammy. But I suppose I must accustom myself to this sort of attire. I will be wearing even less when I am fully changed.” Christine wished it was the sort of movie where she could feel herself up since that was really something Anaria would do, framing it as adjusting her harness and checking her belt – and she really did want to adjust the harness because it was too tight. This had to pass the MPAA, though, so as directed she said goodbye to Tamsin and walked off to join Gyri on the balcony in the scene she’d just done.

The moment she was off camera, she reached for the buckles but Lisa was quicker. “Better, ducks?” She asked after fixing the length of Christine’s girth.

“Much, thanks.” Christine said. “It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? Since we’re going to be doing the second change now.”

“They want to take a couple of publicity pics, ducks.” Lisa said.

Christine shook her head. “Of course.” She brushed back a lock of hair. “Are my ears good?”

“Everything’s perfectly in place. They’re waiting.”

Christine tried to have fun with the standard poses, letting her teeth show when half crouched with her claws out, trying to look as regal as possible in the side on shot with her looking out into the distance, and ending up accidentally doing a set of combatitive shots with Jacob after she took some swipes at him during the cast photo. Then Lisa whisked her to the makeup room. “Scheduling note,” Harold said, poking his head in before they could start anything. “We’re doing lunch in about an hour so we won’t need you in full costume until about an hour after that.”

Christine looked pleadingly at Lisa. “Please?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “All right, ducks. I’ll do what I can.” She snipped the threads on Christine’s paws and feet and the actress sighed in contentment at having the skin bare again. The second change required a different set of both, so Lisa left them off as she went to work with a pad and solvent removing the mask. Christine closed her eyes blissfully as inches of cheek and forehead were caressed by the light breeze from the window. Lisa had left it open for her, opting to wear a sweater in her studio.

Rather than let her canvas wash herself, Lisa rubbed Christine’s face and hands with a damp cloth, removing the last of the glue and leaving the actress feeling refreshed. “Up we get, ducks,” she said after thoroughly cleansing Christine.

“What about the wig?” Christine stroked her wolf ears.

Lisa shook her head. “That stays until change three.”

Christine shrugged and stood. She’d gotten more from the soft hearted makeup artist than she’d expected. She raised her arms and Lisa called Linsey over to help stretch a fur covered elastic backed garment over her arms and torso and then step into a similarly stretchy set of fur pants. The augmentations were made to let the fur of the bodysuit come through and add length, making her shaggier all over. To offset the loss of some of her curves, the fur was thicker around her hips and bust. She shook herself out at Lisa’s request, fluffing the fur and making it sit evenly. Christine buried her face in her arm, feeling the softness that the camera wouldn’t be able to convey. “I’m a cute lil fluffy dog.” She sighed.

“Hold that warm feeling.” Lisa said, and briskly tore out her tail. Christine leapt almost a foot in the air and rubbed her backside. “Did you really have to do that now?”

Lisa held up the short tail. “If you want to keep your gloves and mask off during lunch I have to get everything I can done before then.” She selected a longer, furrier tail and Christine braced herself as the cold metal beads replaced the familiar warm ones that had just been taken out. She bent and gave her new appendage and experimental wag, curled it, and made it tuck between her legs. “I can put even more emotion into this one,” she said, making it stand out and vibrating the very end.

“You have all of lunch to practice,” Lisa said. “Now scoot, ducks. The sooner you eat, the longer I’ll have to get you ready.”

“Lovely.” Christine replied, but she gave Lisa a little wag to show she didn’t take it personally.

“And stay clean!” Lisa called after her, earning another swing of Christine’s tail.

Chrissy noticed a couple of people watching her pass and swung her tail a little more in time with her hips, showing off her longer fur. “It’s a good look for you, Chrissy!” Arnie called. Arnie was playing an officer who never directly interacted with Christine’s character. Chrissy grinned back and wagged her tail.

She sat down with her tray in the commissary and a moment later Dinah sat next to her. “All right, this is totally unfair.” She smiled. “With just that body suit on, you’re probably the cutest thing in the world.”

Christine saw Dinah’s hand moving toward her and smiled back at the actress. “Dy, I know what you’re thinking.” Dinah blushed and Christine turned, holding her arms out. “Come on.”

Dinah squealed and almost bowled Christine over. “I could hug you all day.” She said, resting her cheek on Christine’s shoulder.

“Save it for the budding affection scene.” Harold said as he passed.

“Why don’t I get one?” Jacob commented to Harold.

“Because Dinah’s a lot cuter than you are.” Christine stuck out her tongue, remembering for the first time that Lisa hadn’t taken the dentures or contacts out and she still have a wolfish air to her.

“Don’t tempt me, dear.” Jacob said, continuing on his way.

“Can you tell my agent that?” Dinah said.

“Hmm?” Christine grunted, tearing her attention away from Jacob.

“That I’m cute.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sure he knows that. He has eyes, doesn’t he?” Christine rubbed Dinah’s back. “What’s really wrong?”

Dinah looked up at Christine, still holding her. “I broke up this morning.” She murmured.

“Oh, honey!” Christine hugged her tightly. “You were doing so well in the shoot; I never realized.”

“I haven’t told anyone else yet.” Dinah replied, tears gathering in her eyes. “I was afraid they’d send me home and I’d lose the part.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Christine held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Will you be OK for the day?”

“Yeah.” Dinah nodded.

“Good. Then after the shoot we – oh rats. I can’t go out for drinks dressed like this, can I?”

Dinah giggled. “I think the producers wouldn’t be happy with you.”

“That’s the right attitude.” Christine wagged her tail. “How about you come home with me and Will and we can have a night in.”

“Won’t Will mind? I don’t want to stop you-“

“Honey, we aren’t doing anything while I’m in this costume.” Christine said. “It seems like Will’s the only man in the world who isn’t turned on by it.”

Dinah’s tears dried up. “Men, huh?”

“Damn right.” Christine said. “I guess Will just isn’t a dog person.”

“He should see what it’s like.” Dinah said. “That’s why Gary broke up. He said I spent too much time in the studio.”

“Jerk. Can’t handle a career woman.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Better to find it out now.”

“That gives me an idea, though.” Christine broke out in a fit of giggles. “I’ll have to check with Lisa.” She finished her lunch and got up. “You all right?”

“Sure, I’m fine. Thanks, Chrissy.”

“Any time, Dy.” Dinah got up and hugged Christine one more time before they parted. Dinah to do a scene and Christine for makeup. Unlike Christine, Dinah was an extra in several places to make extra money. She was a nice girl. Christine made a mental resolution to see if she could help her.

Lisa was ready and with Linseys help on sewing she had her new paws with the thicker pads and longer claws on in a few minutes, followed by the longer, leaner feet. “Walk.” Lisa said and Christine acclimatized herself to the long lupine feet. When Lisa was satisfied that Christine wasn’t going to trip and could walk without the feet flopping, it was time to lay back and let her go to work. The mask was similar the previous prosthetics but with longer fur and thicker rubber bone structure, removing some of her ability to express with her face by adding stiff lines to her jaw that ran up her cheek and added depth around her eyes. Instead of molding over her nose there was a short muzzle, though her lips were still covered with the same black canine split lip. When the nose went on, Lisa ran a pair of tubes up the nostrils and actually nodded with satisfaction when Christine sneezed. “I felt that, ducks. It looks like you’re getting air.”

Christine rubbed it with a thickly padded paw. “It feels weird. What’s the sticky stuff on the inside?”

“Check the mirror.” Lisa said proudly. Christine got up and looked and Lisa said, “flare your nostrils.”

“Oh, this is so amazing,” Christine gushed when the nostrils widened. She looked down her muzzle cross eyed. “I still look attractive, I think,” she said judiciously.

“You’re still our puppy.” Lisa assured her. “I actually made that muzzle using pictures from wolf pups. I thought it would be a good transition to have you start out with puppy parts and move on to adult ones in the later changes.”

Christine flopped her paw. “It doesn’t work so well here. It’s cute, but…” she flexed her fingers and showed how the padding interfered. “I’m losing a lot of grip.”

“You knew you’d need help when you started.”

Christine twisted and admired how the longer fur flowed over the paws and feet, and up her neck along the mask into fluffy cheeks. As she was looking, Lisa picked up a pair of ears. “I almost forgot.” She slid the larger ears – which were partly hollow – over the existing ones on the wig. “Instant lupine enhancement.”

“I thought they were a little out of proportion.” Christine concentrated and succeeded in brushing Lisa’s hand with her tail. “I love it. Not as cute as before, but I like the feral look. Oh, speaking of looking good,” she glanced around. “I have an idea.” She couldn’t quite whisper in Lisa’s ear since it ended up with her muzzle pressed to Lisa’s head and Christine’s mouth still four inches away, but she was able to speak quietly and outline what she wanted.

“Ooh, naughty ducky.” Lisa smiled. “Be a good dog this week and I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“Yes!” Christine hugged Lisa, who said, “Mind your costume!” And immediately produced a brush to fix Christine’s fur. “Speaking of which, if you start feeling really backed up I have a few things I could let you borrow. The costume’s made to be lived in, so they’d go right in.”

Christine rubbed a claw self consciously over the long fur between her legs. “I might have to.”

“Though cleaning you afterward would be a pain.” Lisa murmured to herself and earned a swat with Christine’s tail.

“I’d better get on set.” Christine pretended to wipe her forehead. “This extra fur’s already warming me up.” She pressed her nose to Lisa’s cheek in lieu of a kiss and skipped out.

“Solicitude scene,” Harold said as she came in. “Dinah’s already up for a change.”

“I remember.” Christine told him, letting Dinah pull her up. Dinah took her place on the other side of the bedroom door and Christine lay down in the bed.

“Why aren’t you lying flat?” Harold asked as she shifted to her side.

“Because I have a whacking great tail sticking out of my ass.” Christine told him. “You wanted things to look natural, so I’m going to have to lie down in a way that makes sense for my character’s anatomy.”

“All right. Just as long as you can toss and turn.”

“What about fetal?” Christine asked, sitting up and putting her paws between her knees so she could bend to look at Harold. “Instead of turning in pain, I curl up. It’s more animal.”

“That could work. Go for it and if we don’t like the look, we’ll fix it in next week’s wrap-up.”

Christine settled back down and when the signal came, she tucked her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself rocking in simulated pain. She grit her teeth and screwed up her eyes, her moans turning into deep growls – or they would in post. From here on out all of her lines were going to have a lot of editing done on the sound. There’d been talk of some sort of choker or something to add it in studio, but eventually Lisa convinced them it would ruin the lines of the mask and the sound department said it would actually be easier on them to put growls and deepen her tone themselves rather than rely on a gadget that might ruin things totally. The animation for this scene would also be quicker and less showy than the first since she was mostly under a thick quilt. A few shots of the quilt distending with her longer feet and tail, a shot of her muzzle growing and that would be it.

She put all of her effort into sinking into the simulated pain until she felt the hand on her shoulder and suddenly straightened her entire body and grabbed the hand with her paw, growling at the nightgown clad wisp of a girl at her bedside.

Tamsin squeaked at being so roughly handled. “Your highness. Annie! It’s all right. Shhh.” She held her transfigured queen’s face, stroking the muzzle that had just grown out of her. “It’s all right,” she crooned, pressing Anaria’s face to her shoulder. Christine almost laughed at the complete reversal from off camera and turned them to sobs as Tamsin stroked Anaria’s hair. The lights grew to ‘dawn’, revealing the extent of Anaria’s change to Tamsin – and the camera. “Oh dear, your highness.” Tamsin said, dismay making her fall back on protocol.

“Am I that hideous?” Anaria asked morosely.

“No. But we shall have to send down for a more robust brush.”

Anaria laughed and let Tamsin arrange her so that she could see the best of herself in the mirror, putting her in a loose green blouse and a blue skirt in a gypsy-styled color combination. Anaria swished her tail as she examined herself. “It’s not so bad as I thought it would be,” she said, smiling. She’d gotten used to her new teeth and didn’t even draw back at the prominent canines. She flared her nostrils and stood up straight. “It is a shame that the magic seems to have focused itself on my extremities,” she said at last. “These feet… and I can barely hold anything now.”

Tamsin took her paw. “I’ll help you, Annie.”

“Thank you, Tammy.” Anaria said. She sat on the bed and pulled Tamsin down with her. “I feel like I need something to take my mind off the changes. Tell me a story about Queen Demetria. I’ve read her history in the library, but I know that the stories told in the families of those who live here-“

“Servants, ma’am.” Tamsin said.

“I don’t think of you as a servant.” Anaria replied softly. Putting a claw to Tamsin’s lips, she continued. “Your families have stories about us. I know Demetria had some very good ones attached to her.”

“There’s the tragedy of her and her court Magus, Nikolo.” Tamsin said eventually. “Doomed to be kept apart for they loved each other but the kiss of true love breaks all enchantments, even to ending the lives of those who use them. It’s said that is why all who practice the arcane arts are so lonely and often go to evil. They can never know love but at a distance for fear that the first tender kiss will be deadly.”

“Cut. Editing goes to flashback and then to end of scene. Anaria asleep and Tamsin tucking her in.” Harold called. Christine put her head on Dinah’s shoulder and Dinah wrapped her arm around Christine’s waist.

It was still early, but Anaria had spent the night in pain and was tired. As Tamsin ended her story, she found her queen’s eyes were closed and her head was on Tamsin’s shoulder. Her nostrils flared at regular intervals with her breath and her tail twitched in uneasy dreams. Tamsin stroked her long black hair and fingered the soft brown fur of her body. “You are truly beautiful … Annie.” She said.

Tamsin gently laid Anaria down and undressed her, pulling the covers over her body as the queen turned in her sleep to free her restless tail. Tamsin smoothed back her hair and held her hand over an ear before letting it fall. She bent low, her lips almost brushing Anaria’s short muzzle. Then the lights went up and Christine opened her eyes. “Good?” She asked Harold as she sat up and Dinah shifted to make room.

“Beautiful, girls.” Harold replied. “Take a few minutes and then we’ll do the general’s visit.”

Christine kicked off the covers and went to sit with her legs dangling from the set. Dinah hung down over the side and scooped a jacket off a chair next to the set. “Is it that cold?” Christine asked as Dinah sat next to her.

Dinah nodded. “Uh-huh. This thin thing,” she picked at the nightgown, “isn’t enough.”

“I’m so hot.” Christine sighed, lying back and putting her paws behind her head.

Dinah jumped off and ran back a minute later with a tall cup. “Drink, my queen?” She asked, putting a straw in the cup.

“You’re a life saver, hon.” Christine replied, sitting and taking a deep drag from the straw. She opened her arms to Dinah, who didn’t need any more encouragement to enter her warm embrace.

“That had better be water.” Lisa admonished as she joined them. She began brushing Christine’s wig. “You need to stay properly hydrated.”

“It is, mother.” Christine told her.

“I talked to Harold and they’re trying to convince the union to lower the temperature another couple degrees when you do the third costume tomorrow. I really don’t know what we’re going to do about number four.”

Burrowed deeper into Christine’s fur and shivered. “It’s getting pretty hard to carry on already.”

“And she’s feeling exactly the opposite.” Lisa said.

“I can speak for myself.” Christine said.

“Sure you can, ducks.” Lisa moved around behind Christine and took the brush to her back fur. Christine wagged her tail at the massage and put her paws on the floor so she could arch her back against the brush.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to do that?” Jacob asked, resting his arms on the set floor.

“My domestic arrangements are none of your business, Kinney.” Christine said. “Scram.”

“He was a lot easier to work with before I started wearing fur.” Christine said as Jacob laughed and retreated to a safe distance.

“Maybe he has a fetish.” Lisa said. She began buckling the rhinestone covered harness back onto Christine’s body.

Dinah blushed. “Lisa!”

“What? It’s a valid observation. Some guys like a bit of wildness, something exotic. Christine’s a sexy pup, not to toot my own horn too much.”

Christine gave Lisa a thwack with her tail. “Go ahead. You’re a miracle worker.” She stood and stretched, wagging her tail at the whistles. “I’d better get to the conference room set. I’m sure Harold’s on edge to get this one over with.” One her way across the studio floor, she passed Jacob. “Hey, Kinney.” She said.

“Yes?”

Christine smiled, showing all her sharp teeth and then swayed her tail. “If you and your lady need to spice things up, I’m sure Lisa gives good rates.”

Jacob bowed low. “You see straight to my innermost core, Chrissy.”

“It’s not hard when you wear your ardor on your sleeve.” She riposted. She continued on her way, making sure to take mincing steps and sway her tail extra slow for Jacob. It was nice for all the work she and Lisa did to be appreciated, she thought. Then she snorted, her nostrils going extra wide. Not even forty-eight hours and she was already letting her lack of sex with Will get the better of her. She’d have to take Lisa up on her offer for sure.

Still feeling frisky, she took a running leap up onto the set and could almost feel the wind of the necks of her co-stars snapping as the men all watched the jump make her barely constrained brown furred chest bounce. Sauntering to the head of the long table, she took her mark – bending over with her tail high in the air and her claws tapping the table – and waited for Harold to give the signal.

An establishing shot of the outside of the castle with Anaria’s voice echoing in the war room. Cuts to inside after approximately two seconds. “That, gentlemen, is the situation as I see it.” Anaria said, resting her paws on the table as she bends over a parchment. “I know there is a clamor to see that I am safe, but it would be foolish to risk me collapsing in the middle of an appearance and altering form in front of half the kingdom. I know that the court mage and I are often in disagreement, but there we are in absolute harmony. It would cause irreparable harm for me to be seen changing shape. Far more than if I wait until I am fully transitioned into the Gonwolf to first appear.” She took her seat and rolled up the note from Governor Arkadi, tossing it into the center of the table to let the others look.

“Your maje – your highness,” General Aradun said, glancing at the crowned teenage boy who was looking nervously around and not making eye contact with anyone else in the room. “Anaria,” he fell back on the familiarity they’d had since she was a little girl and he was a colonel tasked with overseeing the castle’s garrison. “If you disappear completely now and a creature – no matter its resemblance to the paintings or our assurances it’s you – walks out by our side, many will refuse to believe. They must see you now, before you become …”

“Inhuman?” Anaria asked, her tail swishing with amusement through the back of the chair.

“Unrecognizable from a distance.” Aradun said kindly. “Right now, people will believe if you make a public appearance. Not just to retainers, but to anyone who wishes to gather and see. It is far easier for them to accept if they can see you halfway through, hear your voice before it is silenced. It would also inspire our troops if you did an inspection in your current form. Remind them that we all sacrifice something.”

Anaria stood, her harness sparkling in the simulated morning sun, and went to the window. “I don’t feel comfortable doing that.” She said huskily, her growl making the words even more emotional.

“Why?” Aradun asked, joining her as the others cleared their throats and proceeded to military matters.

“I – I’d rather not talk about it.” Anaria replied, not quite meeting Aradun’s gaze.

“My queen –“

“I’m not your queen, Martin.” Anaria said, resting her paw on his hand. “Not any more.” She shook her head, her hair spilling more evenly over her shoulders. “The soldiers only. No one else.”

General Aradun stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching for something in hers. “Thank you, Anaria.” He bowed and went back to the table.

“Marks for King’s confrontation,” Harold called. Marty Stokes, the young man who was hoping this part would be his big break, went out the door into a small ‘hallway’ set. Christine stood on the other side until the signal and then went through.

Nyriel was waiting for Anaria as she left the war room. “Wasn’t that just touching?” He snarled. “Even looking like an oversized mongrel they love you.”

“Yes.” Anaria said, sounding completely calm. “I worked hard for them and didn’t abuse my power. Now I’m sacrificing my humanity to help the transition. Were you expecting them to fall on their knees and worship you the moment you walked in? You’re not even the real ruler and they know it even if they won’t say anything to you.” Anaria shrugged. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Gyri. So go whine to him if you’re feeling emasculated.”

Nyriel glared at her. “You’re not even doing it by choice. They love you for a lie.”

“No, child, they loved me first. It’s not even a lie, really. If I didn’t do this, most of them would have been executed.” Her tone didn’t change as she grabbed his throat. “Remember, young prince, that you are only a somewhat more convenient excuse than another member of your family. Gyri can always find more lackwitted nobles to warm the throne while he did the real work.” She pressed Nyriel against the wall and bared her teeth. “I’m not really in a very patient frame of mind right now and it would please me to annoy the sorcerer by killing you.” She let him fall and wagged her tail. “I think you’re more spoiled than evil. Learn from this.” She turned her back on him and the lights came up. “Good?” She asked Harold.

“We could use a bit more toothiness in the threat. Also, I’m not positive about the wag at the end. Oh, and Marty lost it when you grabbed him. I saw him smile for a moment.” Harold told her.

“If I showed any more teeth they’d fall out.” Christine told him. “If you want teeth, go hire Russell Brand.”

“I had to smile! Some of her fur tickled my neck.” Marty added.

“Back to marks and do the scene over. We can salvage most of the angles, but I want to be sure.”

Christine squeezed Marty’s shoulder. “You’re doing pretty well, though.”

“Thanks, Ms. Kingsley.” He smiled shyly.

“Chrissy.” She insisted. She brushed him with her tail as she went back through the door and let him think he got away with petting it without her noticing. She’d gotten good at hiding the fact she felt every touch and breeze on it.
On her way out, Christine saw Dinah go by. “Thanks for the help.” She said, putting her hand on Christine’s shoulder. “I think you need some time with Will and I’ll be OK on my own. We can have those drinks to celebrate the end of shooting.” They hugged and Christine continued back to the costume room.

Christine was feeling very accomplished as she donned the previous day’s disguise. The bandana now stuck out a little and the shawl couldn’t quite hide the points of her ears, but with Will helping to cover her, she wasn’t worried. He was facing the stage door when she exited and she had to giggle at his obvious wariness of being stalked again. She threw her arms around him and pressed her muzzle to his ear. “You’ll have to work to kiss me today.” She said.

He smiled weakly and put his arm around her waist, snaking his hand under her sweater. “You’re even shaggier today.” He said as he took her out to the car.

She waited for him to slide in next to her and freed her tail to wag it. “Everything’s longer today.” She tapped his pants. “I hope.”

“You wish.” They sat in silence for a few minutes and then he squeezed her knee. “I guess I’ll have to wear a hat to bed.”

“You could always sleep right up close to me,” she replied, pressing his hand to her chest. “Feel that.”

“You are one hot critter.” He agreed.

“Still not interested, huh?”

Will shrugged and looked guilty. “No. I told you I like the teeth and the eyes, but the rest of it just isn’t my thing.”

“So you’d rather if I’d gotten a part as succubus, maybe?” She replied, smiling widely. Sharp teeth, weird eyes, but only little horns, a pair of wings and a tail.

“I wouldn’t say no if you took that home with you.” He said.

“You’re so shallow.” She kicked him in the shin.

“Hey!” He said, grinning back. “At least I’m honest.”

“Don’t be surprised if you get replaced by a battery operated boyfriend, then.”

“Looks like a night with Rosie Palms for me.”

Christine let him help her out of the car and shed her clothing the moment the door was closed. “I’m not even trying to put anything on over this.” She said.

“It doesn’t seem as necessary anyway.” Will agreed. “Leftovers?”

“Fine by me.” Christine sat down and dozed as he fixed dinner. She woke up when Will sat down and squeezed her thigh. “Hey, Chrissy.”

Christine wagged her tail slowly and snuggled up to Will. “Hey, hon.” She rubbed his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Will put his arm around her. “I keep trying to be good about this, but I just can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.”

“No, it’s OK.” Christine said. “It’s not like you haven’t said it before. I can’t make you like my new look and it does get in the way.” She tried to pick up a fork to take some of the lasagna off the plate, but she kept losing her grip with the large paw pads getting in her way. Will gently took the fork from her and took a piece out to her. She tipped her muzzle up and grabbed the bite with her teeth. “Thanks, hon.”

Will rubbed her side. “No problem, Chrissy. I want to help, I want to support you. I just can’t get it up when you look and feel like this.”

“You never had a cuddly stuffed animal when you were a kid?” She asked, letting him continue to feed her.

“Well, yeah, but …” He laughed. “I didn’t cuddle it that way.” He kept hugging her and feeding her, feeling the exhaustion in her body. “I know you need to work some of the passion out after a day of acting. If you really need to use the vibrator, go for it. I’ll even hold it for you.”

Christine licked his cheek. “You’re sweet. I’ll just have to hold it all in until this weekend.” She growled at him and dug her claws into his chest. “But when I’m out of this costume, you are going to get a week of bonking all at once, so you’d better rest up and get plenty of vitamins.”

“Speaking of which, sort of not,” Will said. “How’s the movie been going?”

“Really well!” Christine said. “I’ve been nailing it almost every scene.” She wagged her tail. “At this rate I’ll be done early.”

Will massaged her shoulders and she leaned in to his touch. “That’s good.”

“It’s a really silly plot, though.” Christine murmured. “I think there’s supposed to be some sort of curse that kills people who I tell about it, but they made it sound more like the villain just executes them. Honestly I’m not very impressed with the writing. I’m thinking this is going to be one of those movies that’s just a vehicle for a lot of battle scenes and me looking pretty.”

“That’s really too bad.” Will said. “You get all dressed up and they fall down on the writing.”

“Yeah, really.” Christine agreed. “What a waste. Not just me and Lisa, but all those animators and Harold and the other actors.” She curled up and opened her mouth to get another bite from Will. “Maybe it’ll be popular anyway. It’s just kitchy enough."

After dinner she followed him up to bed under her own power and was half asleep by the time he’d bathed and changed to pajamas. When he got into bed, she sleepily grabbed his hand before he pulled the covers on and flopped down on top of him. “You won’t be cold tonight,” she promised, curling up around him. Despite the window being opened, he had to agree that having a hot wolf was better than a blanket and though he was still not really interested in her sexually, he appreciated how warm and soft she was and she sighed in contentment and wagged her tail as he held her close.

Symphonic Seductions
By Paul Calhoun
With illustration by Turkranma

Dear reader: It's not exactly accurate to say that Turk illustrated this, as the story came second. Better to say that the comic inspired the story. Anyway, you can find him at www.furaffinity.net/user/turkranma
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PDF with panels broken up here: http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/319/6/a/symphonic_sed...

You've found something odd in the basement? Well, what is it? You look like you've seen a ghost. A skinned corpse? I can't think of what - oh, you've found Roxanne. No, she was never alive. See that ripcord? Well, don't pull it or you'll get the wrong idea. If I'd known I still had that old thing, I'd have moved it somewhere before sending you down there. As it is, I'm sure you won't stop asking until I tell you about her, so you'd better go and get something to eat before I start because this might take some time. And while you've got that cotton tail in the fridge, get me some radishes.
Comfortable? Right, so where to start? I guess I'd better start at the concert. It was in the era when we used to go berzerk at the mere possibility of meeting band members and getting autographs. When concerts were live and in person, and so loud that you had to tie your ears down for protection. It was an all-rabbit boyband, the idols of my fourteenth year. The concert wasn't for another two hours, but I knew they were backstage. How'd I know? I'd been hanging around at the back door watching, of course. I wanted those autographs bad.

Now, they had a mean looking wolf as a bouncer, a real tough customer as my grandpappy used to call them. There was no chance a fourteen-year-old bunny was ever going to get by that guy. I had a pretty high opinion of myself, but I wasn't stupid. I'd been keeping my eye on him, though, hoping something would occur to me when one of the two reasons I'll never need Viagra went by. Hooee, my boy, I'll never forget those legs. Or that face, those arms. Those boobs, that perfect ass. What? I'm not allowed to talk about sexy vixens? She was hot! Hey, you were the one who didn't keep his trap shut and came bouncing up here with Roxanne in your arms.

Anyway, this pretty young vixen with a chest about the same size as her head - minus muzzle length, of course, she wasn't a mutant - walked right up to that bouncer and at the first sight of those assets, our tough customer melted on the spot. Held the door for her became chock full of 'here you go, ma'ams' and 'my pleasure, ma'ams.' She knew what was expected, too, and took some time to flirt with him properly while she was on her way. She even had to close his mouth for him as he got a good look at her tail and what went under it. That backless minidress didn't leave much to the imagination. In fact, it left nothing to the imagination, heh heh. Nope, won't need any Viagra, no sir. OK, I'll get on with the story, but that vixen will be back. Those black-backed ears, white-tipped tail and violet-lidded eyes could hardly leave the story for long.
Well, all that gave me an idea after I'd picked my own jaw up off the floor. But now I'm going to have to go off on a tangent again, now won't I? You young bucks don't know anything about ACME these days. Oh, I know they're still going as strong as ever, but in my and my grandpappy's day, they weren't quite the benevolent rulers they are now. In fact, they were a profit-making corporation for almost a century before the Powers that Were in the organization decided to use their resources to take over. But that's a story for another visit. Even in granddad's time, they were quite the respectable firm. They operated out of store fronts and magazines back then, but you could still get almost anything you wanted and they'd apologize if you didn't get it in four seconds or less.
By the time I needed their services, they'd gotten tired of the "slow way" and had linked to everyone's bank accounts and were monitoring their minds for desires. You got what you wanted immediately, no hassle. Of course, sometimes when a desire was...not entirely clear, they'd send what they thought would work. That's how I got Roxanne.

Ah yes, my idea. Well, I'd figured that if that vision of vulpine loveliness could enter, then another equally sexy creature could gain entry as well. And so I called on ACME corp. to send me one of the costumes they'd become famous for. In my hurry, I'd been inexact in my request, and so I got what the boys at ACME thought would do the trick. It was expensive and when my friends found out how I'd gotten those autographs I'd be a laughingstock, but I'd get the last laugh. I'd have the autographs and they wouldn't.
So before you could say, "Walla Walla Washington," there was a box with a scantily clad, voluptuous cat on it. Of course I would have preferred a bunny, but then again I hadn't said what kind of well-built dame I wanted to be, so I could hardly complain. And I later learned I had no cause to.

In any case, there I was with a box containing the disguise I needed to get backstage and meet my favorite band. I didn't even bother to look closely at the costume as I put it on. I just shoved my feet into the costume's got my hands in, the zipper up and the mask on. Boom boom boom, just like that. It was then that I realized that the thing was just hanging off of me. It was way too big! I looked deflated. As I recall, though, a couple parts were in decent shape. The boobs were already filled up nicely and the hair was already styled in a way that you only see in old movies these days. They wore it big and fluffy back then.

It was then that I panicked and wondered if ACME had made a mistake. I should have known that ACME never makes a mistake. You get what you want, even if it turns out to be a bad idea. After a bit of flailing to try to smooth it out, I found the plastic ring hanging off my - that is, the costume's - hip. I pulled it and the cord attached to it out and was only able to piece together events afterward. See, the costume inflated so fast that it seemed instantaneous. That's why I didn't want you pulling it just now; you might have mistaken it for a sex doll and thought your old grandfather a pervert!
By the time the inflation had finished, just about every part of the costume had inflated at least partly. My feet were now locked into the costume's knees, my fingers got into hers only if I stretched my arms all the way. My butt had been forced into contact with hers, my tail going just a little into hers, which was almost all air. My chest was up against hers, as well as my face being pushed all the way forward into the costume’s, and something stiff wrapping around my neck along with the mask covering my lips, tongue and teeth with a more feline version. This left air bladders taking up space from her knees - the bottoms of my feet - down, the ends of her fingers, all the way around her thighs - my legs - and arms. Also I had a lot of inflation going on around the hips of the costume, the face and there was some action on the rest of my torso as well. And since my butt was right up against hers, and hers had to be much bigger and rounder than mine, the short fall was made up by a lot of inflation going on around my crotch. More on that later.
Once the inflation had finished, I fell right on my nicely padded ass. After all, I was now standing on what amounted to very wide stilts. The only thing that kept me from breaking my tuckus was having that big air-filled tail. I'd thought the game was up right then and I'd pop, but I just bounced and the tail got itself out of the way. After a moment of being stunned, I managed to get myself up on my knees. That is, her knees and my feet, and with a great deal of care, I levered myself up onto my new feet. The stance I'd been forced into left me permanently bent over a little, which I later was thankful for, as it showed off my cleavage and rear end to best advantage.

With some doing, I managed to reach into the box and pull out the mirror that ACME had included. The first thing I saw was the fully-inflated face of the costume, which was amazing enough as it was. Then I propped it up against a wall and saw the second thing that has kept me off the happy pill in old age. My own reflection. That's right, seeing myself in the mirror at age fourteen had become one of the top two turn-ons in my entire life. And why not? I was a dish.
"Here, let me describe what I looked like. Hair of gold in the style of the day, half-lidded eyes that turned my normal blues into something burning and seductive. Inviting lips, a perfect nose and whiskers. And boobs! They defied gravity! And those nipples could be seen through a concrete vest. The legs were indescribable and the butt was as perfect as the rack. Most cats have long, sort of thin tails that go everywhere. Not this cat! My tail was fluffy and big, bigger even than that vixen's was. I couldn't move it, of course, but it seemed to do a fair job on its own. My fur was a nice cream color and I'd noticed it was silky even as I was getting into the costume. Now it felt even better; I know because ACME had made the paw pads super sensitive. To a fourteen-year-old male bunny who'd only ever seen naked girls on the internet, it was a wet dream come true! And believe me, the figure in the mirror was better than any of the bunny girls I'd looked at on naughty websites.
Much as I was tempted to do something else, I was still determined to get those autographs, so I shook off any thoughts of enjoying myself otherwise and got back to the business at hand. I may not have been too clear in some ways, but the reason I wanted that costume was crystal clear and ACME had obliged. I would have been arrested if I'd gone out with nothing on but the costume - the whole point was that I could be taken for a nubile female at the closest range, after all - but what ACME had included for clothes were more provocative than simple nudity.
First I put on the top. I don't know what they call them. You know those things that look like big bandanas knotted at the navel? One of those. That was actually easy enough as they'd already knotted it. What I had real trouble with was the miniskirt. Stepping into it proved almost impossible as I had neither a chair nor could I stand on one foot while bending over. Not with two big and heavies on my chest and feet clear up in the costume's knees.
Eventually, I had to sit on the floor and do my best to bend things so that I could get the skirt on. I'm sure that if that wolf had seen me getting dressed, he'd have fainted at the spot from blood loss from his nose. I spent long enough with my ass in the air and my legs splayed to satisfy any voyeur. Well, once I'd gotten that skirt tucked nice under my tail - which by the way I had to shift out of the way a lot during the process, making me wonder if having such a nice big one was such a good thing - I was ready to tackle the hard case guarding the door.

My lack of decent balance and the position my body had been forced into made me sway from side to side as I walked, which was to my advantage as the wolf caught sight of me. He seemed one step away from falling on his knees and genuflecting as I got close, and I must say that it helped the expression of cheerful flirtation to see him reduced to such a state. I decided to play my part to the best of my ability anyway. I mean, I had to have some fun. I pretended to ignore his reaction and struck a pose with one hand on a colossal breast. Pretending that he hadn’t noticed me I said, "Oh, excuse me sir." Once the pair of us had gotten over the sex my voice was oozing, I continued, "Hi there, big boy. Mind if I go back to see the band?"

He was already in my power and he knew it. Stepping sideways with all the chivalry that wolf could summon, he said, "Right this way, ma'am."

I made sure to brush past him with as much contact as I could, rubbing the bottom of his muzzle with a paw, closing his slack jaw in the process. I didn't even intend to, but my tail seemed to have a life of its own and brushed the same place as my hand had as I kept going. I was already thinking about how I was going to ditch the disguise when I felt something sharp on my rear end. That letch was pinching me, claws out!

Well, I can tell you I was a little worried at that point, seeing as how I was mostly full of air at the time. The first thought I had was of the costume deflating around me, leaving a rather embarrassed looking young rabbit's head poking out of the inviting lips of the sexy young kitty the guard had been talking to. I'd have had to run for my life! Luckily, someone in ACME must have been reading the desires of the lecherous guard as well, since my ass was reinforced with a nice thick layer of rubber. I'd learned once again never to doubt the ACME Corporation.

The thought only took a moment to pass, but while I was thinking it, I'd stopped. I must have looked quite alarmed - despite it being a costume, I think I managed to get all of the hair and fur on that suit standing on end, and I actually noticed my fluffy new tail getting a lot bigger for a moment - because the guard asked, "Is there a problem, miss?"
I was actually about to fall over since he'd pinched me in mid stride and I still wasn't very well balanced on those foot-tall platforms that made up my new calves, so I was glad for the excuse to lean on something. I turned, chucked the guard on the biceps and then put an arm around him. "Not so hard, big boy. I'm a delicate item." Once again, that tail had a mind of its own as it curled around the guard.
He closed his eyes and grunted in appreciation. "I'll sure keep that in mind, ma'am." He said, making sure to 'apologize' by rubbing the affected section gently.
I leaned in and whispered, "But I wouldn't mind a bit of roughness later if I have a bit of warning." I don't know what made me say that, or peck him on the cheek, but it certainly had the desired effect. He was already fooling around with me in his mind and barely noticed as I turned, brushed him with my tail and was inside.
Once I was inside with the door safely closed, I heaved a sigh of relief, sagged against the corridor wall and fanned myself with one hand as I put my hand to my breast with the other. I stood there like that for about a minute before I managed to calm down and take a look around. I'd hoped to find a bathroom - any would do, but a single-seater would have been perfect - but there wasn't one anywhere in sight. Just a long corridor with some unmarked doors along it. I would have been a lot less ladylike in my strides at that point if I could have been, but since I still had my feet trapped in that elegant young cat girl's knees, I had to continue to walk with my hips swaying, my tail flicking back and forth and my boobs bouncing in just such a way as to drive a man crazy.
And boy did it. I never even caught a glimpse before Jake was on me. Jake was the lead bass on the band, and he was ready to do a number on me. Obviously he was used to attractive females looking for some time with him, because he lost no time in coming up alongside of me, putting his arm around my middle and pulling me towards him. "Hey there, sexy. If you're looking for a real man, you've found him."
I was stunned, and didn't protest or even make a sound before he'd guided me through another door, down a hall and into a large room full of snacks and comfortable furniture. All I could do was stare at him mutely with a look of total — but still adorable — surprise. The other band members were already there, along with at least one groupie for each one. The vixen I was talking about was sitting on Nick the lead vocalist's lap. Harry the drummer had a bunny who didn't look old enough to be a groupie standing with her arms around him and Bill the backup guitarist was making out with a tall wolf girl.
Jake sat on a couch and drew me down onto his lap in a similar pose to that of the vixen. The state of my legs made it impossible for me to resist, and quite difficult to do anything but sit there docily with my legs out. I tried to cross them, but had to settle for keeping them as close as possible to each other. Jake was oblivious to my troubles and my sex, opting to nuzzle my back, working his way up to the tips of the pointed ears that hid a much larger pair folded up. He shifted, and through the rubber padding on my butt, I could feel his excitement. He may have been experienced with groupies, but he certainly still enjoyed having them around.
He pulled back and turned me around, forcing me to do my best to straddle him without bending my legs in a way that would give away the fact that they were half empty. "So, gorgeous. What's your name?"
I was panicking by that point, and said the first name I could think of. "Roxanne."
He smiled hungrily. "Well, Roxanne, the concert's starting in about fifteen minutes, so we can't do too much." He pulled me down into a kiss which I couldn't stop. Thank goodness for that inflatable tongue and new teeth. I'd never kissed anyone like that before, but he seemed not to mind that I was a bit slow to respond. He broke the kiss and said, "So, are you with anyone, or did you come alone?"
This was my big chance and I started thinking fast to make it believable. "Actually, I was watching some youngsters before I came in here. Some friends' kids wanted to see you as well and I agreed to watch them. The oldest was responsible enough, so I left him in charge. As a matter of fact," I'd gotten the hang of this voice modulator and managed a respectably sexy, inviting and desirous tone, "the oldest one is a big fan and would love to meet you. I'm sure I could express his love myself better once he's gotten some personal autographs."
Jake had been around the block enough to know that I was naming my price. I hadn't even considered what it would mean to make good on my promise. I was going to meet the band as myself and I was going to get their autographs. I didn't care what I had to do. Jake nuzzled my cheek and whispered, "If that's what you want, gorgeous, that's what you'll get. I'll just tell the boys to go fetch him and-"
I was ready for that. "Uh-uh, big man. Someone has to keep an eye on the kiddies. You tell that goon outside to let him in, and I'll go fetch him myself. He'll come backstage, meet all of you, and when he comes back, I'll take his place."
Jake let out a longing sigh. "All right. But once he's got what he wants, hurry back so I can get what I want."
I somehow managed to get myself to my feet, such as they were, and leaned over to put my paws on his shoulders. "I'll be back as fast as my little legs can carry me. By the way, is there a bathroom around here?"
Jake pointed. "Third door on the left."
I kissed him on the forehead. "Thanks, hot stuff."
I was really getting into character, but I was also very eager to get out of that character and resume being me at least long enough to get what I wanted. I noticed out of the corner of my almond-shaped, heavy-lidded eye that the vixen had made an excuse and was getting up to follow me. Brilliant. Under any other circumstance, I'd have loved to spend a few minutes alone in a bathroom watching that foxy lady make herself prettier. Instead, I was going to have to get creative.
As a matter of fact, the only thing I could think of wasn't very creative at all. The vixen was taking her time, and with a bit of work I managed to speed up enough to make it into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall before she could catch up.
I figured I wouldn't have much time, so as soon as I was in, I got a handful of hair and pulled as hard as I could. Nothing happened. The mask didn't even stretch. If anything, it pulled a little on my hair, making me stop before I could get very far. So I felt around near my neck for the zipper. No such luck; it was gone. When I'd pulled the cord and inflated the costume, it had sealed me in and hidden all hints that the curvaceous cat was anything less than she appeared. I was trapped, the instructions were outside and now the vixen was standing near the stall, obviously waiting for me. If not for the vixen waiting me out, I’d have probably panicked right there. As it was, I decided the best thing to try was bluff her and try to get back to the alley where I'd hidden my stuff. I'd have to get past the guard as a fourteen-year-old bunny boy, but Jake had said he'd take care of that.
I tried to leave without talking to the vixen at all, but no such luck. As soon as I opened the stall door, she said, "Having trouble getting it off? That's the trouble when you use inflatables."
I stiffened at the accuracy of her statement, but did my best to defend myself. "I don't know what you're talking about!" I said, with as much indignation as I could manage.
The vixen just laughed. "Right. That tone might work on a bloke who'd never done this or a first-timer, but not on me. Drop the act, sug. It's not doing you any good."
Before I could summon a reply, she turned and bent over a little, giving me an unparalleled view of her rump and that exquisite tail of hers. I'd thought mine was bigger, but up close I had to concede defeat in every way. This chick was perfect. She stood there like that for a moment and then said, "Well? Aren't you going to help me?"
I swallowed and in a voice much more like an adolescent male than a sexy young girl, "With what?"
She turned that cute little muzzle towards me and half-smiled as she saw the object of my inspection. "Eyes further up, dearie. This really must be your first try at something like this. I know that part of me can't be improved. Check my upper back."
I took this as an invitation and got a bit closer. Nothing seemed to be amiss, but then I saw it. A little bit of her fur was hanging off, revealing a zipper! She was as much a fake as I was, but a much better one. I ran a single claw over the area and she giggled. "OK, so I'm right. It's starting to come off. Just push that back on, will you, hon? It'll stick on its own, but must have come loose when that cro-magnon grabbed me last time."
I ran my claw down her spine, smoothing the fur down over the zipper, hiding it from even the closest search. As I did so, she arched her back, closed her eyes in appreciation and sighed a little. "Ah, that feels so good." She breathed. Then she straightened up, grinned at me and winked. "I bet that turned you on so much that you’d take me right now. I noticed you're not good at the little things. You were lucky. Jake's taste runs to the brazen, but most marks will want a girl who is more complete. That is, they'll be far more in your power if you do little things like that. And that kiss! You're really lucky you got Jake or there might have been suspicion. I could see the surprise from the other side of the room. That surprise saved you, by the way. If you'd been any less astonished, you might have let slip the disgust any newbie feels the first time one of those sex fiends gets serious."
"So they're all-"
The vixen laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that. We're the only two traps this time. The others are actual women trying to get something. Not that it makes much of a difference. Now," she said, her voice taking on seductive tones, "maybe you'd like to learn how to make a man forget everything." She pressed up against me, her tongue entering my mouth and making me forget everything for a moment. She had to work to keep the kiss going since our breasts were big enough to make it hard to get in close. She leaned in to nuzzle my cheek, whispering, "There's a CCTV camera in here. The boys often like to see what it is we ladies do when we think no one is watching. There's no sound, but they already think something's going on since we've been here so long."
"So we're going to make out?" I asked stupidly.
"Of course," she replied with a small laugh. "That's what they expect. It'll make them even easier to handle when we go back." She wrapped her arms around me and I reciprocated, giving the band a show as we passionately kissed. She broke again and whispered, "How far do you want to go? I'm sure you're underage, so I don't want to get serious if you don't, but I can show you things that will make it a lot easier to manipulate men and women. And I frankly haven't had a girl, simulated or no, in awhile. Say the word and I'll teach you enough to get the autograph of every randy guitar jock in the world."
I'd never even come close to this sort of encounter in my entire life. I was plenty underage, but I wasn't going to admit that to her. Not with an offer most of my friends would kill for. I swallowed hard made my choice. I licked her ear and said, "I'm game if you are."
The vixen arched with desire. "Good. Then let's make those horny men down the hall forget the girls they've already got in there."
I think you're a little young to hear what she did with me. Let's just say that your grandmother was quite pleasantly surprised on our wedding night. Not to mention what that vixen did after covering the camera for a few minutes. I'll leave that at an appreciation for certain inflatable parts. She told me that covering the camera would also make the men in the other room wonder what we were doing that we didn't want them to see. I figured it was just the man inside getting his own enjoyment out of things, not that he hadn’t gotten plenty after ‘testing’ me on what he’d already taught.
When we'd finished giving the boys nosebleeds, the vixen made a big show of straightening her clothing and fixing her hair. As she did so, she said, "Do you still want to go back in there as a little boy? You know you're going to have to pretend even more than you do as a girl."
"Huh?" I asked, still a little dazed.
She smiled at me. "Hero worship of those kinds of people tends to dissolve when you see what they're really like. You know Jake will expect sex from you as you are now so the boy you really are can have his autograph and moment with the star. Can you really go in there are pretend that they're the best and nicest men in the world knowing that? It's how it started with me, and I can tell you that after my first time, I always got my autographs as the groupie rather than as the fan. They got what they wanted, I got enough autographs to pay for this costume a hundred times over and we both felt like we were pulling one over on the other." She flicked her tail. "If you want, I can get you out, back in as the boy, out again and in as the sex object. Naturally I'm going to want to make sure you do return to make good on your promise. I don't want to risk my own prospects. If you want to run now, I'll make your excuses for you and no one will mind."
I was tempted by her offer, but drew myself up. "I wanted those autographs, and I'm going to get them."
The vixen nodded. "OK. We'll have to flirt with the guard again, but I'm sure you can manage that."

And that's the story of how I got Roxanne. And of her first adventure. Yes, there were others. I didn't retire her after only one use, though I didn't go out every time I put her on. And look at the time! Hmm. The nightclubs will be opening soon. How's about you put on Roxanne, and I'll go get Liza - I always preferred dressing as my own species, and you'll need the inflatable if you're going to pass anyway - and I'll show you how to get a free meal without giving anything away but an hour longer than it takes to eat it. Or you could go home and do your school work. It's up to you.