A DEVILISH TURN OF EVENTS

By Bimbo Alison

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For the Devil, collecting souls is harder than ever. So when he sees an opportunity to mess with a happily married couple, he cannot resist. After tricking the husband down a dark path, will true love prevail? For once, we get to hear this tale from the Devil's point of view.

By the way, I hope it is ok to say this, but I'd really love your comments on the story... good or bad. I'm trying to get a sense of whether or not I can be a meaningful contributor here, and your feedback will help. Just rate how much you liked it, on a scale of 9-10. :-) Seriously, I appreciate any feedback, negative or positive. Thanks and hope you enjoy.
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I stood outside the window of Room 5B of the Lucky Aces Motel, patiently regarding my fingernails. Could probably use a manicure at some point, I thought.

Inside, I can hear the muffled voices of Ted Ryan and Meg Landy. Ryan is a 38 year-old married father of three boys, and Landy is a 24 year-old sales woman at the car dealership at which they both work.

This one was a piece of cake, but it’s taking a little longer than I’d expected and I’m getting sick of standing here. Still, I can’t interfere any further. Those are the rules.

The voices are going quiet, so I think we’re getting somewhere. I peer in through the door (a neat trick I take for granted) to see Ted’s face planted squarely between Meg’s large and fresh breasts. Her manicured hand is running up and down his cock, but it doesn’t take the Prince of Darkness to know Teddy boy doesn’t need the help.

One minute later we have penetration, and my work is done. With a flick of my hand, they each barely notice a twinge of pain as they are marked. They continue to fuck each others’ brains out, unaware that their eternal soul now belongs to me... and there’s nothing they can do about it.

I light up a cigarette, and take a deep drag, leaning against the wall hearing the noise of Ted nearly at his climax. I shouldn’t say there’s “nothing” they can do about it. Every once in a while “He” grants one of those deathbed absolutions... but the fact is, even “He” knows I have to get my share, and that most of them really aren’t sorry.

As I walk towards the Jaguar I purchase at their location today, I can’t help but think how easy they were. When I walked in this morning to pick up the car I’d already “purchased” (another lovely trick that I sometimes fail to appreciate), I could clearly see the lust Ted had for Meg. It was just a parlor trick to have a button of her blouse pop off when she was bending over to pick something up in front of Ted’s desk. Another simple trick to make her sexually attracted to me... so much so that even after I’d left, her arousal level was high. And so when their eyes met, Teddy Boy had all the green light he needed to make the move he’d been waiting for since she was hired six months ago.

So there they are, in that room, fucking away their immortal souls. Ted will be constantly trying to keep the relationship going, but from what I could see of Ted’s performance, I’m guessing Meg will call a halt to it. A sexual harassment suit would be lovely. The more lawyers get involved in anything, the more potential there is for me to line up a few more souls. Have to remember to send a large anonymous donation to the American Bar Association when I get a chance.

I’d love to hear that Meg gets fired over this, and has to go sell her body to make ends meet, because that’s really gravy for me. But “He” doesn’t allow me to plant suggestions. Fine. The path is at least going to present itself to her, so maybe I’ll get lucky.

***

Tracking down souls is a bit more tedious than it used to be. I used to focus more on big events. Sodom was a huge coup for me, except the Big Guy himself rained down the fire and brimstone, so it felt kind of empty. Show off.

I remember the day that Showgirls came out on DVD. I had my minions stationed at every Best Buy, Circuit City and Blockbuster I could find, and marked anyone who came out after having purchased one. I knew that wouldn’t stick, but it sure got “Him” pissed off. I thought that evened us up for Sodom.

The thing is, my minions do most of the collecting. Ted and Meg there, they were just a distraction. As I turned left on Potter Lane, and then a quick right onto Oak (these GPS things are better than any of those ancient “all-seeing” amulets we used to rely upon), I see the reason I came here this trip — the home of Frank and Rosemary Graham.

I’m not getting the Grahams. I know this. I mean, I can cross the lines, and get them for a time... but these are the kind I never get for real. Still, what they are disgusts me, and whatever I can do to remove them as a shining example to others is worth my time here.

One time, about 10 years ago, I appeared in Dan Rather’s apartment in New York City. I like fucking with people in that way. Told him he had 30 minutes to ask me any questions he wanted. It was great. Drove the poor guy nuts. When he went around shouting “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth” the next week, no one had any idea it was because he had a 30 minute sit down with Mephistopheles and couldn’t tell anyone about it.

But the other reason I look back on that interview, is that he asked the big question. What is it that the devil fears most? There’s nothing that is even in second place. The answer is simple: True Love.

True Love sucks monkey balls. I swear that would be a great bumper sticker, but I don’t think anyone else is as fond of it as I am.

But True Love not only inoculates those involved in such a saccharine relationship, but it sets a good example for neighbors, teachers, families, and more. True Love makes my job hard.

So I’m here tonight to fuck with True Love, and I know I better bring my “A” game.

Like I told Rather, the rules are simple. I can’t make anyone do anything. I can’t just make someone commit a sin. It’s like with the police and entrapment. Can I do things to stack the odds a bit? Like I did with Ted and Meg? Yeah, but that’s about it.

But nothing like that is going to work with these two.

Frank and Rosemary Graham. Both 30 years old. Graduated from Notre Dame (hate that place!) in 1999. Frank actually had contemplated joining the seminary program when he arrived on campus, but he fell in love with Rosemary and decided that wasn’t “God’s will.”

I feel myself throw up in my mouth a bit just thinking about this.

Anyway, they are engaged as sophomores, but do not marry until 2001. And get this — they don’t have sex until their honeymoon. No hand jobs, no nothing. I swear to “Him”, where does He come up with these people?

They both work non-descript jobs, but also volunteer their time at their local parish. They actually co-teach a children’s liturgy every Sunday, as well as mid-week religious education.

They are the couple that shows up on your doorstep when you move into the neighborhood with a basket of freshly baked cookies, they mow your lawn for you when you break your leg, and they cat sit for you when you go away on vacation.

And they do all of this without a shred of ego or self-superiority.

Can you see how they must be stopped?

Anyway, about the only thing I could find to mar this saintly house of paradise is this — they’ve been trying to start a family for the last five years, but have been unable to do so.

I swear I’ve had nothing to do with this, although the idea that these two can’t procreate gives me a great deal of pleasure.

I’ve kept tabs on them. Hoped it would drive a wedge. Cause a fight. Cause finger pointing even? Nope, nothing. They just “support” each other. It’s really gross.

Still, I’m thankful for the opening, and I will take full advantage of it at lunchtime tomorrow.

For now, I pull away from their house and with a flick of my finger I knock out cable in the whole neighborhood. Why? Because I can.

***

As I sit at the counter of Annie’s Diner, I have trouble choking down this turkey club sandwich. It’s actually pretty dreadful. But Frank, of course, comes in here every day for lunch, out of loyalty to Annie herself. He couldn’t bear not to give her his business.

Today is no different.

I’ve kept the seat next to me open, and when he comes in alone he just naturally gravitates towards it. I get a refill on my coffee while he eats. I’ve had my folder and keys on the counter between us the whole meal, but I’m sure he considers it rude to look at other people’s materials, so he hasn’t even peeked.

Still, while he’s somehow forcing down a piece of what looks like apple pie, I simply get up, and begin to walk out, leaving my folder behind. For good measure, I call up a little gust of breeze from the opening door to send my papers scattering.

Right on cue, I hear Johnny Goodyshoes yell “Sir! You dropped your papers” I try not to smirk.

As I turn back and head towards him, he has gathered them up and is holding them out to me. I see his eyes momentarily flash when he reads the letterhead.

“Thank you very much, young man,” I say. “Much appreciated.”

“Oh, um… you’re welcome,” he says, a bit distracted. “I couldn’t help but notice… your papers. You work at a fertility clinic?”

“Yes yes,” I smile. “Well, work there is a bit of an understatement. I run it. My name is Dr. Stephen DeVille, the founder of the DeVille fertility clinic. Pleased to meet you, and you have my great thanks. I’d have been a wreck had I lost these.”

He holds out his hand and we shake, and I can feel him regarding me.

“Frank Graham, nice to meet you Doctor,” he says. “It’s odd, my wife and I.. well... we have been seeing doctors in your specialty for the past few years, and I’ve never heard of your office. Are you from out of town?”

I shake my head. “No dear boy, I’m up a block and a half from here. In fact, I’ve seen you eating lunch here many times, I think. Don’t I look familiar to you too?”

That always gets the “nice” people. They never want to admit that you might recognize them, but they don’t recognize you.

“Yes, now that you say so... yes. You do look familiar. But your office...?”

“I don’t waste money on local advertisements, son. No need. My clients come from around the country, and I’m booked for the next six months. If I may ask... how long have you and your wife been trying to conceive?”

“About five years,” he says. “Maybe a bit longer.”

I screw a look of compassion and concern on my face. I think it’s a pretty good one, I practice in the mirror every night. It does not come natural.

“Oh, that’s dreadful. You have my condolences. And you know what... I am also in your debt. I will tell you what, stop by today at 4 p.m. I have 30 minutes I’d planned for an international webinar I was supposed to participate in, but it has been postponed. I will give that time to you by way of thanks.”

“Oh, well, my wife Rosemary works,” he says. “She couldn’t take off. I mean, I could, but she couldn’t on such short notice. Could we try to schedule something else?”

I’ve got him.

“Oh, certainly. Call the office or stop in. We should be able to get you in sometime in the next eight months.”

I see his shoulders sag.

“That long? Oh... well... maybe...”

“Tell you what,” I say. “Why not just come over yourself today? There’s much I can learn just from you. In fact, it’s quite possible that I can help you greatly. If not, we schedule something later and you return with your wife. Sound good?”

“Yes Dr DeVille, thank you,” he nods.

“See you at 4 pm, Mr. Graham. Please don’t be late.”

I turn and walk out the door, with an evil grin on my face that DOES come quite naturally.

***

I can sense Frank walking up the stairs towards this makeshift office, which I’ve made look about as opulent as a doctor’s office could. The only thing I’ve not taken care of is the receptionist. Most of the time I’d go blond, big tits… but not with Frank. I summon a minion, and whisper “matronly” as I flick my finger. A little pie faced grandma smiles at him as he walks through the door.

We sit in my office and after I’ve taken a blood sample and handed it to Granny minion, I have him tell me about himself. He speaks clearly and eloquently for about 10 minutes. I, of course, am not listening. I know all this. What I do notice is that he doesn’t lie, nor exaggerate. The fat guy who goes into the weight loss clinic usually paints a picture of how he eats three all-vegetable meals and runs five miles a day, and the guy with crabs tells his doctor that his wife is the only women he’s every slept with.

Frank just states facts. It makes me hate him even more.

I wait for a pregnant pause (pun intended) and have Granny minion return with a sheet of, frankly, gibberish. I study it intently, while Frank waits patiently. I then screw on a smile, and look him straight in the eyes.

“Very good news Mr Graham. May I call you Frank? I can help you. I feel bad that you’ve wasted time with others. These tests show me that I can help you today, if you’d like.”

I see the stunned look in his face. Trusting soul to boot. “You can call me anything you’d like Doctor, but... You can really help us? You don’t even need to see Rosemary?”

“No son, I do not. Let me ask you this — what would you say if I told you that I could double the chances that you and Rosemary could conceive? How would that sounds?”

He leans back in the chair and looks stunned. I start to worry that he’s going to ask too many questions, but instead a huge grin covers his face.

“I’d say that’s about the most amazing news I’ve ever heard,” he says. “I mean, it’s the first good news we’ve had.”

I tell him that I cannot guarantee anything, but that the chances of them conceiving really will be increased by more like 200%, but I’m saying 100% to be conservative.

“I don’t mean to be rude, doctor,” he says. “But all these visits have tapped our savings a bit. Looking at this office and what you mentioned before about how in demand you are... may I ask what this will cost?”

I wave my hand and smile at him. “I wouldn’t dream of charging you, Frank. Do you have any idea how much money you saved me today? Those papers, contained quite a bit of proprietary information about my procedures, as well as confidential information about two of my more important clients. Had those been lost, it could have caused me great damage. I gladly will trade my services for what you have done.”

“Doctor DeVille, that is most generous,” he says. “But I will not take advantage of your good nature in that way. It wouldn’t be right. We just may need to pay you in some installments if that is ok. Whatever papers you need signed, I will sign.”

I know arguing with him on this will be like trying to convince a duck it cannot swim, and I honestly could give a fuck about this. So I just nod, and shake his hand.

“Frank, in my business, I work on trust. I don’t need you to sign any papers. Just hold my hand, and ask me to give you what we’ve discussed. That’s all I need. Yes, I know it sounds archaic, but it has always been my way.”

I tighten my grip on his hand, bringing my other hand over to encase his. He has a momentary flash of “this is odd” in his eyes, but then resumes his smile and speaks quite clearly.

“Doctor Deville, would you please make it so the chances of my wife and I conceiving a child will at least double?”

Thank Hell. I drop the smile from my face and I see the fear in his eyes as mine glow bright red. I could do this quickly, but why not savor? I send the shock of electricity coursing through his hands and watch his body convulse as he falls backward into his chair.

I don’t know what these feels like, but those I have forced to tell me, say it feels as if they are literally on fire. His body shakes and convulses in his chair, and he screams in pain.

I start slowly, taking his 5-10 frame down to 5-4. I hear the bones compress, the skin pull tight, and the screaming increases. It is music.

Next, all his hair is removed. To him, he must be feeling as each is being pulled with a tweezer, because the screaming has become a shriek.

The shaping is next. Hips widen, fingers lengthen, his adam’s apple disappears. I raise his cheek bones. I imagine that one feels like dental work without Novocain. Marvelous.

As tears flow from his eyes, they reach his mouth and drop over his now pillow shaped lips. Think Angelina Jolie with a bee sting. His bald head must feel as if the skin is being ripped off, as long cascades of curly blond hair emerge from it at a rapid rate.

His hands instinctively reach towards his abdomen, as his internal organs are replaced. I imagine this is like surgery without anesthetics. I have to remember to try that sometime so I can compare the noises.

I see him on the verge of blacking out, so I stop... just enough time for him to take a few jagged breaths, and open his eyes and look up at me in abject horror. As he opens his mouth to speak, I do it — and the pain of someone removing his cock and balls with a single ax blow overwhelms him. Glad I remembered to sound proof this room.

The pain drives him out of the chair, and he falls on his hands and knees. I’m sure he doesn’t notice the increased flesh I add to his now rounded ass, but he can’t help but notice the pain as his chest skin is stretch quickly to contain the huge boobs that now hang from his chest and reach the floor. Their size forces them together as beads of sweat run down between them and vanish.

The last bit cannot be tolerated by humans, so I save it until this moment. I reach into his brain, and it is like parts of it are being hit with small hammers. The sum of 1,000 concussions. Or a few severe car accidents. No one ever again will consider him an intellectual. The final burst of flames inside his skull cause him to pass out, his body now limply lying atop his buoyant breasts — like a young child laying atop two beach balls.

As he blacks out, I sit back and smile. The minion brings me a scotch and water, and I sip the sip of the victorious as I await sleeping beauty’s awakening.

***

I thought about dressing him in some skimpy lingerie while he slept. Or taking his virginity. But I want to savor this one, and I want him to know what I’m doing. So I simply had him dressed in his old, now poorly fitting clothing, and propped back up in the chair.

I see his eyes start to blink as he approaches consciousness. The first thing he sees is my shit-eating grin, and that makes me smile even more broadly.

“Welcome back, kitten,” I say, with a laugh.

“Wha... Wha?” is all he can muster. I have to be careful to keep him conscious, so I flick my finger and he sits bolt upright in the chair, unable to move anything but his head. I contain a chuckle as his tits wobbly a bit viciously on his chest, with him unable to contain them.

“Ssssshhh, don’t bother trying to speak right now, sweetie,” I cackle. “You’ve been through quite a trauma, and you’re probably still feeling it. Some of the punchiness you’re feeling, however, is going to be a permanent situation, so you best start getting used to it.”

I see him staring at me, but not quite comprehending. Perfect.

“As you can probably tell, your body is now that of a woman. Now, I know that math is probably not very easy for you right now, but you can add one plus one, right? You see, before I changed you... only Rosemary could conceive a child. Now you can too. So since two of you can now conceive, that doubles the chances of you having a child. Did I deliver, or not?”

“No” he says weakly, “This isn’t... this can’t be? I mean... how?”

I let him see me laugh this time. His squeaky, dim sounding voice is music to my ears.

“Actually, you’ll find that your odds are even much higher. You see, that body of yours... well it needs sex. A lot of sex. You don’t feel it right now, but every four or five hours it is going to ache for sex. And when I say ache, I mean it. You’ll find yourself in physical pain if you don’t “get some.” So that right there should really raise the odds, don’t you think? That cute little watch I’ve put on your wrist will beep every four hours when you’re about to feel the pangs of lust. Hope that helps.

“I’d never...” he tries weakly to argue, but I cut him off?

“You’d never have sex without the man wearing a condom? Oh good point. But the thing is, you’re not as smart as you once were, you know? Can you feel that? You’re going to forget about birth control a lot, I’d guess.

Oh, or maybe you were saying you’d never have sex with a man? Oh no, dear, that’s not the case. You’ll have sex with anything that moves when the feeling strikes you.

But maybe you were going to say something differently? Sorry I interrupted. Go ahead.”

I see him trying to focus, to concentrate. Neural pathways which once so quickly and effortlessly connected him to the facts, arguments and reasons he needed in the course of daily events now failed him. Instead of driving a car down the well lit streets of your home town, a trip through his brain was like driving in a foreign city, after dark, with no headlights. If he ever makes a point, it will be by sheer accident.

“I don’t... I mean, how? And why? It’s just... “ he stammers.

“Sssshhh, honey bunch,” I smile. “Don’t strain yourself. Here’s the thing. You’re still Frank Graham. I mean, if you look in your wallet, you’ll still see your driver’s license, credit cards, all that. Your place of business will still be expecting you tomorrow morning, and of course your lovely wife Rosemary is probably wondering right now why you’re late for dinner.”

“Rosemary…. How can I?...”

“Be late? Well, you slept for some time after the transformation. It’s about 8 pm right now. Won’t she worry?”

He’s fully conscious now, so I release his body, allowing him to move in the chair. His hands instinctively start moving all over his new form, touching it as someone would touch a Popsicle stick on the ground covered in ants.

“Who are you?” he demands in a voice which doesn’t sound all that demanding. “And why have you done this to me?” He stands up to, perhaps, try to physically confront me, but the stress on his body, and the weight of his new tits sends him toppling right over, face first.

I lean over the desk and see him lying there. “Oh, good thing your airbags inflated to break your fall,” I laugh.

“Now, just so you don’t think I’m heartless, I know you might have some trouble with a few things. So on the paper I’ve placed in your pants pocket you will find the name and address of a club. It’s called the Boobs Nest. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Out by the airport? No... not you. You’ve never heard of it, I’m sure.

Anyway, the club owner thinks he hired you last week. He thinks your name is Wendy Wobbles, and that you like to be paid in cash. You probably should go there tonight or tomorrow night, or he might give the job away.

“I’m not doing the naked dancing thing” he said, pulling himself to his feet. I’m sure the signals he sent to his brain said “I’d never work as an exotic dancer” but I like the way it came out.

“Of course you aren’t,” I said, taking him by the arm and marching him out of my office and towards his car. “It’s just an option that’s all. Now, you should probably get home to Rosemary, don’t you think? Here let me help you to the door. Now just take things slowly for a little while, you’ll have to get used to your new center of gravity.”

“Gravity? I... wait, I still don’t get, how?...”

I watched him struggle to pull the seatbelt over his massive tits in preparation to drive home, Was he angry? Sure. Confused? Absolutely. But combine those two with his limited intellect, and just sheer weirdness of what occurred to him, that I honestly don’t blame him for just wanting to get home. I couldn’t wait to get there myself, and it was a simple matter to not make him notice that I’d slipped into the backseat to join him.

***

I’m not sure who was more disappointed that Rosemary was not home, me or him. But not finding her there, he went rooting through her clothing trying to find something to better fit him. The thing is, Rosemary was nearly as tall as he was, and quite thin. So neither her tops nor bottoms would fit him. But as he kept stumbling around as his pants hit the ground, he simply stepped out of them, and threw his ruined shirt on the ground too.

Seeing him walk around like this, with tight men’s underwear barely containing his large round ass, his huge tits bouncing every which way on his chest, and his long blond bedhead hair falling all around his face, he might have as well worn a sign that said “fuck me.” I wish I’d not turned invisible so he could see the smile on my face.

He clearly couldn’t figure out what to do, so he plopped on the couch and turned on the television. I could see the conflict in his face. “Do I touch this new body? Or is that wrong?” he must have been thinking. But then the watch beeped for the first time, and I could see his eyes go wide. Even in his addled brain he knew what that meant.

For the first time, his hands roamed down to his new vagina. I know he was trying to see if he could feel any growing wetness, and sure enough, his poking around was erotic enough to make it happen. He brought one hand up to try to contain his massive tits, and he found touching was making waves of pleasure wash over his body.

“It’s happening…” he squeaked.

Confession time. That watch is a $14.99 digital Timex watch. I just set an alarm to go off every four hours. I might have the ability to transform matter, and I do have the ability to alter perceptions and memories, but there is no such thing as a body that “needs” sex. And certainly not on a schedule. However, making the suggestion to him, reinforcing it with the watch alarm, his newly addled brain, not to mention the fact that he has seen his body transformed from male to female, was enough to throw this man... this god-fearing, church-going, salt of the earth man, into what I’m looking at right now — a panting wet, horny slut of a woman. And I’m loving every minute of it.

It was a simple matter to make the Fed Ex delivery man think that the Johnson family next door was not home, and come to the Graham’s to get them to take the package.

And what a sight it was when the driver saw the door open to this naked living wet dream. I could see his cock spring to life in his pants, as Frank pulled him in and started kissing him passionately.

Frank ripped his pants off right inside the front door and barely started clumsily licking at the guy’s cock before he shot his load all over Frank’s face and tits.

Poor sap. I briefly thought of giving him a little help, but I quite liked the idea of his dressing quickly and leaving in shame. He’ll spend the rest of his life being embarrassed about this. Regretting the unbelievable and once in a lifetime fuck he blew because he couldn’t get a grip on himself.

And Frank lay on the ground, cum dripping from his hair, face and chin, and slowly started to realize what just happened. Then came the crying. He sobbed and sobbed trying to make any sense of what just happened. His body was still aroused, and unsatisfied, but he apparently believed the “lust curse” had passed.

And then, of course, came Rosemary through the front door.

***

“Who the heck are you and what are you doing in my house?” screamed Rosemary.

Heck. This woman sees a naked huge titted slut in her house, and still she can’t swear. Unbelievable.

“I, um... Rosemary? It’s Frank...” he stammered.

“My husband? What have you done with him? Where is he? Frank! FRANK? Are you here?”

“Yes, I mean, look what happened to me. I... I mean, I don’t even understand how?...”

Rosemary looked at this woman, and saw the cum dripping from her face. Rosemary’s cheeks grew red.

“Are you on drugs? You have to be responsible for your own actions! I don’t want this in my house! Get out! Get out!”

She grabbed her “husband” by the shoulder and pulled him towards the door, with Frank whimpering and pleading.

“Please please Rosemary, please it’s me Frank? I mean, please? I live here?” Statements came out like questions, further hiding what he was trying to tell her.

“Get out of my house you... you... whore!”

With that Rosemary closed the door, hard. She looked through the peep hole in horror as her neighbors had come out of their homes to see this. They saw a huge boobed naked woman standing on the Graham’s front porch, weeping and pleading to be let back in.

I’m sure this will come up at the next neighborhood board meeting.

Confused, Frank stumbles back to the car and gets in. He winces as the rough seat belt is uncomfortable over his now naked tits. He grabs the car keys I’d put on the seat next to him and starts it up. As he is pulling away, Rosemary comes running out of the house, screaming like a mad woman.

“Wait! That’s my husband’s car! Where is he? What have you done with him? I’m calling the police!”

As we drive away, I smile at how beautifully this is all going.

***

“So where are we going, Frank?” I asked from the back seat.

I so startled him that he nearly swerved off the road.

“How come you’re there?” he said. “When did you like come in my car?”

“Rosemary wasn’t very nice back there was, she” I said, changing the subject. “She seemed quite angry with you.”

“Yeah, but I mean, she just didn’t understand what you did. I mean, I don’t get how come she couldn’t listen to me.”

“Well, I don’t know the answer to that, honey bunch, but I do know she said she’s going to call the police. You’re driving a stolen car, you know?”

I could see him trying to understand my point. He seemed to almost have gotten it, before the blank look returned.

“This car is owned by Frank Graham. Take the next left. Even though you are Frank Graham, do you think you look like him anymore?”

“No...”

“Who do you look like, do you think?”

“Um… what was that name you said before?”

“You mean Wendy Wobbles?”

“Yeah.”

“So who do you think you look like, Frank? Take this right after the gas station.”

“I look like Wendy Wobbles, I guess.”

“That’s right, you do. And if you get pulled over by the police, do you think they’ll think you are Frank Graham?”

“Well... prolly not, no.”

“Very good. You’re not even wearing a shirt, Frank. I’m guessing that is illegal, too, don’t you? So what do you think they’ll think? Bear to your left here.”

“Umm... I don’t know.”

“They’ll think you’re some crazy hooker or stripper or something, who stole a car. And they’ll take you to jail.”

“I don’t want to go to jail! I just want to go home and...”

“I know you don’t want to go to jail, sweetie. But remember, you have Frank’s wallet and ID. There’s no ID for Wendy Wobbles. If you get arrested… they will be very upset with you for having no ID.”

“Oh that’s really bad, right?”

“Yes, really bad.”

“So like what should I do?”

“I think you should hide somewhere. That’s what I would do. Get rid of the car and hide.”

“But like, where?”

“Well, remember that place I told you about? The Boobs Nest? Where they know Wendy Wobbles? It’s right up there, see it? Why don’t you park the car in that supermarket parking lot, and I’ll take you over there, ok?”

By this point, just the rhythm of my voice was enough to have him following my suggestions. I can’t even imagine how much fun others will have with him when they find out how easy he is to manipulate.

“Ok, whatever you think is best.”

After he parks the car, I take the keys from him and check out his trunk. He had a gym bag in there, and I pull out a t-shirt with “Pay it Forward” on the front. Did I expect anything else?

Anyway, when he stretches it over his massive chest, the phrase almost seems somewhat dirty, brining yet another smile to my face as I lead him through the front door of the Boobs Nest to begin the next phase of this very satisfying day.

***

“Fuckin A, it’s about time you got here!” club owner Bud McMahon shouted at Frank as we walked through the door. Dancers arrive at 8! Do you need me to write it down on your boobs or something? Let’s go! Let’s go!”

I could see Frank trying to process this environment and not succeeding, even as Bud grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him along. I’m sure he’d never set foot in a strip club before, and here he was, in the body of a stripper, being yelled at and pulled to the backstage area.

“Lisa, get Wendy here dressed and ready,” yelled Bud at an older chunky looking woman. She must be some sort of den mother or something. “I want her tits on the stage in ten minutes.”

“Come on, honey, let’s clean you up a bit,” Lisa said to Frank, as she escorted him to the door which said “Dancers Only.” As the door closed behind them, I saw him give me a look that was at once pathetic and terrified… a wonderful combination.

Bud, who remembered me as an “old friend” joined me at a table and ordered me a scotch and water. As long as I am implanting false memories in people’s heads, I might as well make sure they know what I drink.

After about ten minutes of not listening to Bud talk about how hard it is to run his club, I hear them crank out Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” as the announcer barks “For the first time on Boob Nest stage, please welcome... Weeeeendy Wobbles!”

Frank stumbled out from behind the curtain. He is a sight. They put him a metallic silver bikini, and clear heels. At first he just stops there, frozen, when a hand from behind gives him a push. A combination of trying to balance on the heels, and his hesitancy, cause him to move awkwardly towards center stage, but send his tits into total spasm on his chest, as the hoots and cat calls from the gathered crowd shout their approval.

Clearly he doesn’t know what to do, but he was told to dance so he starts to just sway on the stage. I can see that Lisa combed out his hair, and put sparkly silver eye shadow on his eyes, and bright red lipstick on him as well.

He continues to bounce around awkwardly, as the customers begin throwing money up on stage. But I can tell he is staring into the lights, so he can’t see much of anything at this point. After a minute or so, he turns his head back to the curtain as someone is yelling at him.

He reaches behind his back and pulls the string to untie his bikini top, sending his massive tits bouncing free in front of the crowd. He just keeps walking and stumbling around, but the guys aren’t really looking for dancing. They’re looking for tits. And there’re getting the biggest set this place has seen in some time.

I watch Bud staring at her. I can tell he’s a bit shocked at how bad she is, but I can also tell he’s please with how much money is being thrown on the stage. And even though that money goes to the dancer, it means repeat customers for him.

The song ends and Frank just stops on the stage, as the men cheer. He clearly has no idea where he is or what he is doing, and just walks back off the stage, without picking up the money.

Before Lisa can step out to collect it for him, at least half of it is scooped back by the guys, and a few bucks taken by the waitresses who pass the stage and think no one is looking.

Lisa leads Frank back towards us, stuffing the wad of cash into his hands as she sits him down.

“Bud she... has some work to do, I’d say.” She says. “But great tits.”

Bud smiles and stares at Frank for a second, then waves his hand in front of his face.

“Helloooo? Anyone in there Wendy? You with us?”

“Yeah,” Frank says. “I’m like having the weirdest dream of all time.”

I suppress my chuckle.

“Dream? Oh ok... sure, whatever honey,” Bud says. “Well listen, you owe the floor manager $15 a night, that’s Lisa. You owe the DJ $10 a dance, you owe each waitress $5 and the bartender another $10 per night. You also owe the house, that’s me, $50 a night.”

He grabs the money from Frank’s hand and counts it out. There must have been close to $200 on stage when Frank left, but by the time Lisa got out there, what was left was $60.

“You’re $30 short,” he says. “You’ll make it up on your next dance in about an hour. You wanna work the room and do lap dances, fine by me. But that’s another $50. Otherwise, go back stage and be ready for your next turn. Got it?”

Frank just nods absently, and Bud gets up and leaves.

“So Frank, are you enjoying your new job” I ask?

“This... like is just a dream, a weird dream.”

“Frank, you remember being in my office today, yes? You remember me transforming you? You remember the Fed Ex guy? You remember Rosemary? This is not a dream… this is your new body. Isn’t it wonderful?”

He looks at me dully. I can see his reality starting to dawn on him, but I think it might take a bit longer.

“Can you... turn me back?” he asks meekly.

“Of course I can,” I say, completely truthfully. “Now you should go back and get ready for you next dance. Bud said you can sleep on the sofa in the dressing room for a few nights until you find a place to live. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. Have a great night, honey.”

I stand up, and kiss him on the cheek, and his mind barely registers the fact that both my hands grab his tits roughly and roll his nipples between my fingers.

“You too,” he says, confused. As I leave for the night, I check my watch. In about two hours his watch is going to beep again, and I’m sure he’ll have no problem satisfying his itch. I’m almost tempted to stay and watch, but I’ve got other places to be right now.

***

When I enter the club the next afternoon, Lisa opens the “Dancers Only” door for me so I can check on Frank.

He’s quite a sight. Passed out on the couch, naked, his face, tits and hair covered with dried cum. I can tell from his open thighs he’s been fucked as well. Makes sense, his little watch would have gone off three times since I’d last seen him.

“Wake up sleepy head,” I say, shaking his shoulders. It really is quite a thing to watch those huge boobs jiggle on his chest.

“Uhhhhhhh,” he says, opening his eyes slowly. “What is... YOU!”

Ah, looks like someone has rejoined the party.

He sits bolt up right, and pulls an afghan he’d been using as a blanket over his chest.

“You’re the one who... who... did this to me! You made my body all looking like this! Do you know what I did last night? I mean, it was so totally gross! You gotta please turn me back! Right now!”

Seems the swelling in his brain has gone down, so this is where we are. I can tell by his speech patterns and the look on his face he’s just as addled as I had hoped he’d be, no where near the zombie we were dealing with yesterday. Good, this is much more enjoyable.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to demand ANYTHING, Wendy?” I sneer.

“Don’t call me that! My name isn’t Wendy Wobbles or whatever they keep calling me. It’s Frank Graham! You totally know that!”

“Oh sure, I know it. And you know it. But do you think anyone else will believe you? Do you?”

“Well... no... but...”

“And you best be very careful, missy. Even your little pea brain must remember me telling you... you don’t have any identification. I’ve set it up so these people here pay you cash... but beyond that, I’m not sure how you’ll make a living. So you better show me some fucking appreciation!”

“I’m not going to show you any apprestiagon... uh... apperat... I’m not going to say thanks to you! You made me a woman and I’ve made love to men!

“No, Wendy. You’ve fucked men. You’ve been fucked by them. And you’ve sucked their cocks. That’s totally different.”

His eyes go wide, and then he bends over the couch and throws up into a trash can. I can see him trying to paw his hair and tits out of the way as he does so.

“Please,” he says, now more weakly. “Please just let me go home. Please?”

“You’re free to go home at any time, dear.”

“No, you know what I mean... I want to be me again… I want...”

Beep... Beep.

I see the feeling of dread overcome him as he shuffles uncomfortably on the couch. It’s not unlike a Pavlovian response at this point. As much as he might deny it, his body has been aroused sexually... something he probably seldom felt as a man. And so when the timer beeps, his mind floods with the memories of what he has done, and the pleasure he has felt... and I see his lips form into a small “oh” shape as he lets out a little sign, betraying the arousal he was trying to hide. I am so delighted that he is doing this to himself, and does not know it.

“But before you go, perhaps I have something else you’d like?”

I unzip my pants and pull out my cock.

“You want to suck it, don’t you Wendy?”

“Please… don’t call me that.” He says.

“Say to me, ‘My name is Wendy Wobbles, and I want to suck your cock,’ or I will turn and leave this room,”

He shakes his head, and I see tears form in his eyes… but I also see both his hands kneading his tits, and reaching down and pulling roughly at his pussy.

“My name is Wendy Wobbles and I want to suck your... cock,” he says, his voice fading on the last word.

I could make him repeat it, but the fact is, I’ve been looking forward to a good blowjob, so why wait? I step towards him, and he quickly drops to his knees and begins to lick at my cock awkwardly, but with great passion.

Unlike the Fed Ex driver, I can make this last as long as I wish. I think about that as I push his head towards me, pushing my cock deep into his mouth. As he begins to bob up and down, I see his fingers starting to push in and out of his dripping wet pussy.

His moans grow louder as he nears orgasm, but I push him off me and onto the ground suddenly. He looks up confused and lusting, but before he can speak am I on top of him, my large cock fucking his pussy hard and deep.

“Tell me... how much you need to be fucked,” I hiss.

“I neeed to be fucked,” he cooes in reply.

“Tell me what a slut you are,” I hiss.

“I am a slut, such a slut who needs to be fucked,” he cooes.

“Beg me to cum inside you,”

“Please... please cum inside me.”

As he says the last word, I explode, sending him into screaming orgasm. I hold myself there, hard and deep, as the waves of orgasm crash over him again and again.

After about five minutes, I pull out, leaving him a puddle of sweat and lust on the ground, as I get dressed.

“As I said, you are free to go home at any time, Wendy. Nothing is stopping you. But you should be careful not to lose this job, should things not work out at home. Have a wonderful day.”

“Go to hell,” I hear him whimper as I leave the room. He has yet to figure out that that was exactly the day I had planned.

***

I was sitting comfortably inside the Graham home a few hours later when I heard a car pull up. Looking out the window, I saw Frank squeeze himself out of the backseat of a cab, and hand the driver a crumbled handful of bills he didn’t really have the time or capacity to count. He was wearing a tight black Boobs Nets t-shirt and some pink mini shorts he’d found at the club.

The few neighbors out mowing their lawns are being treated to quite the sight, and I spy the disapproving scowl from a mid 50’s woman across the street who was tending to her petunias. The cab driver lingers for a moment as Frank makes his way to the door, not pulling away until he can no longer oogle his former passenger.

Frank would have been here sooner, but I imagine he spent about an hour trying to find his car. Once his little mind remembered it was in the nearby grocery store parking lot, I’m not sure whether he just gave up walking around looking for it, was tossed off the property by a store manager who thought he was trying to drum up business for the club, or actually remembered that Rosemary was going to call the police, and that what actually happened was that the car was discovered last night and towed away.

I’m nearly certain it was not the latter.

Nevertheless, here he was, just a few hours after I’d fucked what was left of his brains out, calling “Rosemary” as he walked through the house.

After a minute or so, he noticed me sitting on the couch sipping a drink, and jumped.

“What are you doing here?” he stammered. “Turn me back!”

“Now now, I’m here to help you, dear. I’m sure you’ll have some trouble convincing Rosemary, so I thought maybe I could be of assistance.”

Twenty four hours ago, he’d have been looking for the sarcasm in my voice, or the irony. But now, he can do little but take it at face value.

“Um… ok. Thanks. But hey... you could like just fix it by, you know, making me into me again? Could you just do that please?”

“So, do you like dancing at the club. You must love having nice big tits, yes?”

“Oh its like awful being like this! I mean, it’s a sin! And like, I don’t want these things. Everyone stares at them.”

The ease of taking him off point should make it less than fun. But it continues to amuse me.

“Still, you could probably make a lot of money doing it full time, don’t you think?”

“I... don’t know. I danced two times and both times I didn’t pick up the money. It’s hard bending down without falling over.”

“Well, I imagine you’ll get used to it, don’t you think?”

“Um… I guess so. But maybe if I... Hey! I don’t want to get used to it! I just want you to turn me back, ok? Please? Before Rosemary gets home?”

“Do you remember what it felt like to make love to Rosemary,” I asked, once again changing topic.

“A gentleman doesn’t, you know, talk about that stuff,” he said. “But I mean, it was way wonderful.”

“And do you remember me fucking your pussy, and sucking on your tits before? Do you remember me cuming inside you?”

He said nothing.

“I wonder which was more sexually exciting to you. Hmmmm. Interesting question, isn’t it? Would you like me to fuck you right now? Because I’d be happy to do so.”

“No! That is wrong. Please… just... just leave me alone. I have to like get ready for Rosemary to come home.”

I watched him pace around the house for about an hour. He was attempting, I guess, to clean up. Perhaps his addled mind thought that if all the dishes in the dishwasher were unloaded, his wife might be more accepting of the huge boobed slut in the tight t-shirt claiming to be her husband.

It honestly doesn’t get much better than this.

I looked at my watch and saw it was just after 5 pm. I’m sure he could expect his wife at any moment. Which is why it was marvelous when I heard his little watch go off again.

He started towards me, a mixture of revulsion and lust in his eyes, when I stood up and held out my hand in a stop sign. It still amazes me that these feelings are all self-induced. The human brain is truly and amazing organ.

“No, dear. I offered you my services a while ago, but you rejected me. You may not have them now.”

“But... I need...”

“What you need is not my concern. I suggest you look elsewhere. Or perhaps you can wait for Rosemary to help you?”

The mention of her name drove him into a panic. He knew she would be home soon, but he could not contain his lust. We were quiet for a moment, hearing only the sounds of suburbia. The birds tweeting, the lawnmowers mowing.

He was outside the house in less than a minute, and zeroed in on his neighbor, Harold Binderstein. Harold was a just retired widower, who had been thinking of selling his house to move to a less stressful environment. No need to worry about lawns and maintenance at his age.

Yet here he was in the hot sun, mowing his lawn again. What was different was that, for the first time, he turned in shock to see a huge boobed slut pulling off her tight t-shirt and begging, “Could I, you know, please please suck on your... cock?”

Before Harold could answer (it would have been “yes” of course), Frank had his shorts down and was sucking on Harold’s sweaty balls and cock. This time, I did help. I doubt Harold would have lasted more than 30 seconds… but I gave him about five minutes of staying power.

Realizing that he was feeling like a young man again, Harold began bucking against Frank’s mouth, forcing him to take his cock deeper each time. Harold had long been bothered by a bad back, but he was ignoring that now as he bent over and pawed at the largest tits he’d ever seen in his life.

This man, who had been only with his wife sexually his whole life, but who had heard and seen things of course, whispered half in embarrassment and half in lust... “I would like it if you let me tit fuck you, I think that’s what it is called.”

Frank had, of course, never heard of such thing... but even his brain could figure out what that meant. He rose up, pulled his huge tits on either side of Harold’s cock, and started rubbing them hard against it. Harold moaned loudly, as Frank found he could still suck the tip of the cock when it emerged through his great mams.

After a few moments of this, Harold exploded between Frank’s huge tits. The pleasure was overwhelming, so much so that he had forgotten that he was standing in the middle of his front yard, in the middle of the afternoon.

Frank, his lust quenched, stood up and ran back towards the house, Harold’s cum dripping from his tits down his stomach as he bobbled towards the front door. I could see the tears of regret in his eyes.

Harold laid on the cut grass and watched in amazement. He would NEVER sell this house.

As Frank reached the front door, he saw Rosemary’s car turn in the driveway. Trying, in his mind, to make himself presentable, he wiped the cum off onto his shorts, and pulled the t-shirt back over his head, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes as best he could.

I too came outside, and closed the door behind me. Best that this take place outside, I felt.

***

Rosemary slammed the door in a huff, and after looking around self consciously as the growing group of neighbors apparently watching the show from their yards, turned bright red in the face while she approached us.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, lady” she hissed. “But I just called the police. You stay right there, because I know you did something to my husband, and you if you hurt him in any way...”

Her voice trailed off when she looked more closely at Frank, seeing him in all his post-coital glory.

“Who are you and why are you doing this to me and my husband? Is it money you want?”

“Rosemary...,” Frank cooed, not noticing the drop of cum sliding down the right side of her full lips. “It’s me... I’m Frank. This guy? He like... he like made me like this.”

Before she could respond, I flicked my hand and the three of us were standing inside their home. The neighbors had seen what I wanted them to see, and now it was time for Rosemary to understand the truth. Or at least the version I wished her to understand.

“What? How are we here?” she screamed. “Who are you people?”

“That is your husband, Frank, my dear,” I said. “And my name is Mr. DeVille. I have transformed him in this way, at his request. “

“You did what?” she said incredulously. “You transformed someone? I don’t know what game you are playing…”

Another flick of my wrist and Rosemary was quite suddenly turned into a small cocker spaniel dog. I endured about five seconds of barking before I flicked my wrist again and returned her to her form.

“Oh my goodness,” she said. “What are you? How is what you just did possible?”

“It is possible. That is all that matters. And what I did to you, I have done to your husband, at his request.”

She looked at Frank intently, as if hoping to see some familiar glimpse of the man she once knew.

“Frank?”

“Um... Yup. It’s me. But only now I’ve got like these giant tits and I don’t really like them but sometimes I get all horny and I have to have sex and I don’t like that either but it’s like — oh my god — I have to do it, you know? And I totally miss you.”

Frank moved towards Rosemary for a hug, but she pushed him away, on hand on his shoulder and one hand inadvertently brushing against one of his giant tits.

“You are NOT my husband!” she cried. “Where is he?”

In the distance we heard the sounds of police sirens. I could redirect them, but I think better to let this neighborhood spectacle get even a bit more spectacular.

“Yesterday,” I said, “Your husband here came to my office, and begged me to transform him in this way, isn’t that right, Frank?”

“Well... no... I mean...” he said.

“Did you come to my office, with a problem of a sexual nature?”

“Um… yeah.”

“And did I tell you that I had a solution for you?”

“Yes...”

“And then you shook my hand and asked me to do this, isn’t that right, Frank?”

“Well, it’s sort of right, I guess” he said, even this simple logic being far behind his ability to refute.

“Rosemary, you can hear the police are coming. This IS your husband, which I can tell you are wanting to believe. Honestly, isn’t it preferable to believing him dead?”

She looks at us both in disgust, but I see too that part of her wants her husband back, in any form.

“Ask him anything you wish to ask him, to verify his identity. But we have but a few moments before the police arrive. And if this is your husband, do you really want him thrown in jail looking like this?”

She stared for a moment, biting on her fingernail absentmindedly while she thought. Finally, she looked at Frank, and asked him the question.

“Tell me,” she said. “What are the boy and girls names we had picked out should we ever have a child? The names we promised never to tell another soul.”

I was briefly concerned that her question would be some detail of a memory… something that, while still contained in Frank’s brain, would now take much longer for him to retrieve or if at all. But he answered straight off.

“Joseph for a boy and Theresa for a girl.”

She looked at him, stunned. We could hear the police cars pulling into her driveway, and the sound of car doors being opened and closed.

“Frank... how could you, be so... depraved? How could you wish for this? How could you do this to yourself. To me. To us?”

“I was just, you know, trying to make things better” was all he could muster. Perfect, actually.

“Rosemary, the time is short. Frank here needs to get back to the Boobs Nest. That’s where he dances under the name of Wendy Wobbles, and where he has had quite a lot of sex. If you wish the police to arrest him, that is where you will find him.”

Before she could answer, we heard the police pound on the door. With a thought, Frank I and were gone, leaving her there — stunned.

***

The next week is wonderful. Frank continues to be a reluctant and terrible stripper, but word spreads pretty quickly through the customers that “Wendy Wobbles” is a pretty slutty skank, and you are around her when she’s looking for it, you can fuck her for free.

Because of that, Frank is pretty much hated by the other dancers, and spends all of his time either on stage, sleeping in the back room, fucking in a customer’s car out in the parking lot, or up on Bud’s office being taken anally by his new boss.

A few afternoons, Frank tried to make himself presentable and went out looking for a different job, with humorous results. Of course he has no form of identification, so the only thing he thinks to bring is a flyer from the club showing a topless photo of him and identifying him as “Wendy Wobbles.” This got him thrown out of a grocery store, and a CVS. He was about to be tossed out of a Target store, when his little watch went off and he ended up getting fucked on the desk of the 62-year old hiring manager.

He still didn’t get the job, of course. But he was told that he should come back for further interviews. I’m sure Frank took that at face value and might actually do it. Too funny.

He called Rosemary’s phone at least once a day and left a message about how sorry he was and how much he missed her, but they went unreturned.

I was not at all surprised that the police never came, because... what could Rosemary have possibly told them? I’m sure the thought of this stripper claiming to be her husband would further scandalize her.

The few evenings I checked in on her she was home alone, either sobbing on her bed, or kneeling beside it in prayer. As if that would do any good.

But I shouldn’t say that I am surprised when she walks into the Boobs Nest this night. I watch her closely from the shadows. Dressed very neatly, she reluctantly pays the cover charge and walks into the room, as if being forced to walk into a pile of steaming horse shit.

She sits herself at a table in the back, and waves off waitresses before they can even get within ten feet of her. I briefly consider going to speak with her, but I prefer it this way.

After about ten minutes, the announcer calls out for Wendy Wobbles, and the customers crowd the stage, hoping that maybe they will be the “lucky” one. Frank has been doing this now for close to two weeks, and he is absolutely no better. He walks out in a red, white and blue bikini, his huge tits shaking with every unstable step he takes on his heels.

His “routine” as it is, seems to be just to try to walk in a circle around the stage. As he does so, the cash starts coming up at his feet. And when he drops his top, I look to Rosemary and see the look of disgust and anger on her face. But the look is fleeting, as she immediately stands up and walks towards the door.

Frank, of course, cannot see her at all, what with the bright lights. In fact, he now just goes into a sort of trance when he is on stage, which isn’t far from his normal mental capacity anyway.

When he is finished, he walks off the stage, grabbing a handful of money as he does so.
A few of the other girls had discussed tried to get “Wendy” fired for being such a terrible dancer, but they were simple jealous at the money she makes. And since now what they do is just scoop up all her money after her set, save for the little she occasionally grabs to pay the staff, they don’t mind her at all.

Frank comes off the stage and immediately takes off the heels, which he still cannot negotiate. He also scratches at his inner thigh, which is still coated with the now-dry leakage of cum after his watch went off about two hours before his set, and he ended up letting one of the bartenders fuck him in the supply room.

Rosemary stares at him, as she slows near the club exit. I can see how disgusted she is. A customer comes up to Frank, and jiggles his boobs a bit, apparently on a dare from his friends. Frank barely notices and sits down at a table, rubbing his sore feet.

When I look back to see Rosemary’s expression, I see she is gone. But what surprises me is that she is not gone from the club, but instead from the doorway. She walks over to Frank’s table and sits down. Her face bright red with embarrassment and disgust.

“Frank,” she whispers.

“Rosemary!” he bellows with delight, sending his naked tits flopping wildly in front of him, knocking the club soda the bartender had brought him off the table and crashing loudly on the floor.

“Oh… um… sorry Manny,” Frank says as the irritated bartender approaches with broom and dustpan. “It was like totally my fault, but I’m so excited. This is my wife, Rosemary!”

Manny shakes his head and laughs. No one listens to Wendy, and this is just another impossibly dumb thing out of her mouth. Manny smiles at Rosemary, even as he looks her up and down.

“Maybe your wife wants to join us next time I fuck your brains out, huh?”

Delightful.

Rosemary stands to leave, but Frank grabs her arm.

“Oh please Rosemary, don’t go!,” he begs. “Manny, that was like so rude. I’d never let you do that with Rosemary here! Plus, you know, its only when I really need it. I mean, otherwise its gross! I love Rosemary, you know.”

Manny shakes his head and walks away, and Rosemary just stares.

“You… you have made love to him?” she asks?

“No, its not like that. It’s just... see this watch? When it beeps I get all horny and so I let people do stuff to me so I don’t feel that way no more.”

Rosemary shakes her head in disgust. “How often?”

“Um... seems like a lot. I don’t count so good anymore, though. Isn’t that weird? But like, lots of times guys ask me to do stuff and I say no way I love Rosemary so I don’t. But only when the watch goes off.”

“You shouldn’t be in a place like this, Frank,” she says. “This place is vile.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t got no other place to go. And I can sleep here too and there’s food. I tried to get a different job, but its not working.”

Rosemary looks up at the ceiling, as tears stream down her face.

“Look, why don’t you... why don’t you come home with me? Ok?” she says. “I don’t know what I believe, or how... or how we could deal with this. But you shouldn’t be here.”

Frank smiles. “Oh I’d so love to come home and be a family again!”

“Let’s just start by getting you home, ok? Then we’ll talk further.”

I sat in silence watching this. It’s rare that I am surprised or stunned, but this was one of those times. I just sit there as Rosemary takes Frank by the arm, after gathering his bikini top and helping him retie it, and leads him out of the club and to the parking lot.

I suddenly do not like where this is going.

***
I turn myself invisible and silently get in the back of Rosemary’s car for the ride home. They say nothing. I see her glance at Frank’s enormous chest during the ride, watching the way it moves with each bump of the road, but then pulling her eyes back to the road before saying something in anger.

When we arrive at their home, Rosemary quickly gets out of the car and hurries over to the passenger side, basically pulling Frank out of the car and inside the house. It is clear she is hoping no one notices, and sadly I don’t think anyone did.

Rosemary puts Frank on the small couch in their bedroom and then goes and gets one of his old bathrooms. She returns and silently directs Frank to put it on, and sit down. She then sits down across from him, and stares at him for a minute, saying nothing.

“Let’s say for the moment that I believe you are Frank, ok? You have to tell me... why did you wish for this? Was I making you unhappy?”

“Oh no Rosemary, I love you. I done all this for you!”

“For me? How is... how is what you are for me? How has it done anything but ruin my life? The police are out looking for you, you know that right? You’re a missing person? Our friends are over here all the time… lending support. And our neighbors? Well the looks I’ve been getting, from when they’ve seen you. I just can’t take this...”

Rosemary begins to sob uncontrollably. Frank gets up and goes to comfort her, and as he does so his robe slides open and one of his breasts slaps down against Rosemary’s head, causing her to recoil in disgust.

“PLEASE, do not touch me. Please.” she cries. “This is hard enough... just talking to you.”

“I’m sorry, “ Frank says. “Sitting back down and closing up the robe. I’m totally sorry.”

“And why,” Rosemary says, wiping away her tears. “Are you talking like that? Like some... idiot? And I’ve heard you swear too. Frank doesn’t swear.”

“Um… well, I hear all these words all day now, so I kinda get used to them, you know? But I can totally stop saying them if you want, ok? Like I won’t say fuck no more, or titties, or cunt, or any other ones you think is bad.”

Rosemary bites her tongue. I can see her making an effort to keep it together, and am confident it cannot last much longer. Whether she is aware of it or not, she begins to speak to him as if he were a moron. Which of course, he is.

“Frank… do you remember our time at Notre Dame?”

“Oh sure, it was lots of fun there,” he says, perking up.

“Do you remember who we had for American History?”

“Um... We had... umm... it was a old guy with glasses and he had hair in his ears!”

She laughs for the first time. “Yes, Professor Morris. And we used to make fun of that hair coming out of his ears, you’re right. Now…can you tell me how many states there are in the United States?”

“Um... I should prolly know that, right? But I don’t remember.”

“How about this? Do you know who the President is?”

“Um...nope, sorry!” Frank says, a bit distraught. “Its hard to…think about stuff. Like I know I’m sposed to know that, but my head hurts when I try to remember it."

“That’s ok, Frank... that’s enough questions for now. Why don’t you... why don’t you just close your eyes, ok? Get some rest.”

“Ok Rosemary, I’m like so tired. I love you you know?” Frank says, as his eyes close.

Rosemary says nothing, but just stares at the big boobed blonde in front of her, and sighs. This is clearly one of those times when I wish I could read minds, but no matter. I can tell time.

And when just-asleep Frank’s watch makes its familiar beeping noises, I wish I were visible so Rosemary could see the smile upon my face.

***

Frank’s eyes opened slowly, and his face had a huge frown, even as his fingers immediately went down to his bikini bottom, pulling it aside with one hand so that his other could take two fingers and begin inserting them inside himself.

“Frank! Stop that right now, that is disgusting!” Rosemary said, jumping from her chair and moving behind it.

“Rosemary... please… you need to help me… you need to help me. I need... I need IT.”

Even as he spoke, he pulled his bikini top up over his massive boobs, leaving it around his neck as he pulled at his nipples and kneaded his tits.

“Stop doing that!” Rosemary begged. “You have to get out of here if you’re going to do that.”

I could read Frank’s face. He was thinking of Harold next door. Of tit fucking him. He got up and started to walk towards the door.

“Where... where are you going?” Rosemary said, keeping her distance.

“Um... last time, you know Harold? He fucked my big titties and it felt so good,” Frank said. “Oh... sorry you don’t like those words.”

Rosemary looked as if she was going to faint.

“Is that what you were doing when I came home the other day?” she yelped.

“No... we was all done. I need it Rosemary, so bad...”

“Well you’re not going! Come... back here here. Go lay down on the bed,” Rosemary said in a panic.

Frank looked at her blankly, and then did as she said. As soon as he laid down, he began finger fucking himself and moaning loudly. Rosemary looked out the window, expecting to see every light in the neighborhood being switched on.

“You… you have to do that quietly,” she pleaded. “Please... shhhhh.”

“Please... I need to get fucked, Rosemary. I need a good fucking!” Frank was writhing on the bed now, finger banging himself with one hand and pulling hard on his nipples with the other.

“I don’t... I don’t know what to do for you. Please... please stop this,” she pleaded.

Frank moaned louder and louder, in both ecstasy and frustration. Rosemary looked as if she thought the paintings would be shaken off the wall.

She watched Frank fucking himself harder. And while I expected to see a look of utter disgust on her face, it looked like... she wanted to help him?

“What can I do?” Rosemary said. “How can... I help you?”

“Fuck me,” Frank said. “Fuck me. Fuck me, FUCK ME!” I’m quite certain he had no idea what he was saying.

Rosemary scrambled around in a panic. Occasionally she would move close to Frank, as if she were considering touching him, but then immediately recoiled as if he were radioactive.

With tears in her eyes, she left the room. Frank continued to moan and try to masterbate himself to climax, but he could not. I actually do not know why. Perhaps it was that he was having trouble reaching his pussy, with his giant tits not allowing him to get deep enough. His moans echoed through the night air. It was music.

The next thing I saw was Rosemary reentering the room, holding a cucumber of all things. Her face was swollen with tears.

“Here” she said to Frank, trying to put it in his hands as he was continuing to try to masterbate himself. “Please... take this. Maybe this...”

But his moaning only increased, and he would not take it.

I was so caught up in this, I hadn’t noticed that I had let myself become visible as I stood near the bed. She saw me, and the expression on her face was of true anger. Hatred even.

I expected a barrage of semi-profanity, but what happened next was just... amazing.

Rosemary bent down at the end of the bed, and gingerly brought the cucumber to Frank’s sopping wet vagina, and slowly inserted it.

Frank howled with pleasure.

“Oh please... yes... Do me... Do me... please,” he pleaded.

Rosemary looked up at me, glared, and then began pushing the vegetable in and out of Frank’s pussy, faster and faster as the screams mounted. After a few minutes, Frank came violently, knocking a sobbing Rosemary back onto the floor.

She got up to see that he had fallen asleep almost instantly. She stood up, the cucumber still in her hand, and walked toward the window. She opened it further and saw there were several neighbors out on their lawns, trying to figure out what all the screaming was about.

She stuck her head out and screamed “Go to Hell!” at the top of her lungs, and flug the cucumber out into the night.

She came back, glared at me... and then went over to Frank and pulled the watch off his wrist and threw it out the window too.

“I never want to hear that thing again,” she glared at me, and then immediately went into the bathroom and threw up, clutching at the bowl and sobbing wildly.

Still unsure as to what I had just witnessed, I vanished into the night. Sure to return tomorrow morning.

***

When I returned in the morning, Rosemary was sitting on the bed, stroking Frank’s hair as he slept.

“Good morning, Rosemary,” I hissed. “Did you have fun last evening? I found this on your front door, and thought I’d bring it to you.”

As I handed her the notice of a neighborhood board hearing to discuss violations of the resident policy, she looked at me blankly and set it down on the dresser calmly.

“What did we do to you, to make you do this to us?” she said.

“Quite honestly, nothing.” I said. “This was purely for my own enjoyment. And I must say, I am quite enjoying it.”

“Well you can enjoy it all you want,” she said. “This is my husband. Whatever you have done to him, he is my husband in there."

Our discussions brought Frank back to the land of the living. He smiled as he opened his eyes to see Rosemary sitting beside him.

“I love you,” he said in his little girl voice.

Rosemary took a deep breath, looked at me, and then looked Frank straight in the eyes.

“I love you too,” she said, and leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips.

The moment their lips touched, the skies grew black outside, and claps of thunder shook the house. “He” is so fucking overly dramatic, it makes me want to puke.

“Good damn True Love,” I hissed.

Rosemary and Frank looked at me quizzically.

I leaned against a nearby dresser, trying to look as casual as I could while delivering the words I was required to say. Rules are rules.

“You have demonstrated true love, in most extraordinary circumstances. As such, I am bound to grant your requests, where possible, to rectify my previous actions.”

“What is he saying, Rosemary?” Frank asked.

“He’s saying we beat the devil, and now we get to make him eat crow,” she answered.

“Yes, yes, gloat all you will,” I snapped. “But I am not bound to do more than the minimum, and do not test my patience or I will leave and deal with the consequences in other ways.” I was lying through my teeth, but I cannot imagine they would notice.

“Fix him,” Rosemary said. “Turn him back.”

“Fine,” I said. “If that is what you wish.”

“Wait, tell me what you are going to do before you do it,” she said.

“I am going to do what you asked. I will make his body male again. As it was before I transformed him.”

“And his mind?”

“I will repair the damage I caused to it. He may still have some residual effects, but he will be a lot smarter than the loaf of bread he is now.”

“And his memories? Of what you made him do?”

“I did not make him do anything,” I cackled, watching Frank’s face twist in confusion. “He acted on his own, somewhat dim, volition. All I did was provide him a nice wrist watch.”

“Rosemary, what is he saying? I didn’t want to do... I didn’t want to do all that...”

“Ssssh,” she said, stroking his hair. “Just be calm, Frank, ok? Let me handle this.”

She stood up and walked towards me.

“I was his memory of all that has happened erased,” she whispered. “And for that matter, the memory of all our neighbors.”

“No,” I said.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean the opposite of yes. I mean that I will not alter his memories. I did not alter them before, so I am under no obligation to alter them now.”

“But the things he has done,” she said angrily. “He will remember all of it?”

“Oh yes, and with his brain damage repaired, he’ll remember it in more vivid detail than he does now. Should be wonderful.”

She paced the room for a minute, and then turned back to me.

“So the rules for this are, what?”

“There are no rules. I will make your situation better, but only as I see fit.”

She looked at Frank lying on the bed, smiling up at her, and shrugged her shoulders.

“Fine. Here is what I wish. Turn me into a man. I want to be a male version of myself. My friends, family, everyone will know me as the man you turn me into. No problems with identity, or anything.

Further, leave Frank… as a woman. But make him a real woman. With a name, a social security number. The same situation as me. We will still be married. And put him in body of an average, attractive woman. With his mind repaired.”

I could not believe what she was requesting.

“Well first off, I will not change her body. I quite like it as it is. I will restore half of her intellect, and give her a name and ID of your choosing. As for your requests for yourself, I will do so.”

“You will not leave her in that body!” she yelled.

“I will simply leave then,” I said, staring at her.

She walked over the bed and sat down, once again stroking Frank’s hair.

“Frank honey? I’m going to make things better, ok? But only if it’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you say, Rosemary, I love you.”

This was making me sick.

“No, its not whatever I say. It’s whatever we say. We can stay married as man and wife, dear, but you’d have to be the wife. Would that be ok? I don’t think you could handle being a man again, not with all the things you’ve done.”

“I don’t want to work at that place anymore Rosemary, I don’t want to do those things.”

“Sssssh, you won’t have to work there ever again. We’ll try to get you another job, ok? Or maybe you can stay at home for a while while I work.”

She turned to me. “I want a 50% raise at my current job. They pay men higher there anyway, so that should be no problem.”

I reluctantly nodded in consent.

“Ok Rosemary, so you would be my husband?”

“Yes dear. And we could make love again.”

“I’d like that,” he said, sickeningly.

She leaned in, and kissed him again.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” he said.

She stood up, and got right into my face.

“You lose. Do it.” She said.

I sneered at her, and snapped my fingers.

***

It has been six months since I lost to the Grahams. I would have completely ignored them, except that “He” keeps text messaging me with updates, or pinning written updates to the back of unsuspecting minions. “He” really knows how to rub it in.

Ronald and Francie Graham moved out of that neighborhood into a larger house in a more secluded location outside of town. “Ron” hadn’t wished for any changes in the neighbors, so they were still to be thrown out of the community had they not voluntarily moved.

Ron was doing quite well at his job, apparently, and had earned another promotion above even the one I had manufactured for him, and now was making almost three times what he had made as Rosemary.

Francie, with Ron’s salary, was able to stay home. With her mind restored, she was able to better come to grips with her new womanhood, and apparently greatly enjoyed it.

She would even tease Ron about going back to work at the Boobs Nest to make a little extra cash. Her body was still a sexual dynamo, of course, and even that muscle memory was hard to undo.

Just a few weeks after their transformation, Francie let a door to door carpet cleaner in for a demonstration. The man wore a beeper for work, and when it went off, Francie felt familiar longings. Unable to contain herself, she gave the man a reluctant blow job.

I was encouraged by this news, except when I later learned that the man gave her a 50% discount on carpet cleaning, and she confessed the whole thing to Ron who forgave her and continued to help her understand how to deal with her new urges.

And of course, as expected, the latest news I received is that Francie is now pregnant, with twins no less.

If “He” is expecting me to throw them a baby shower, “He” has another thing coming.

Fucking “True Love.” I really do hate it.

All Things Being Equal, I'd Rather Have a Pepsi

By Bimbo Alison
July 2008

Rick is very thankful that Stan the Sprite showed up to save he and his family from a fatal car accident. But when a magical creature with a gambling problem asks you for "one little favor" in return for his help, you can be sure that there'll be nothing little about it!

Author's note: Haven't written a story in a while, so I might be a bit rusty. But I do hope you all enjoy it. Have a wonderful summer!

-------------------------------------

I’m not a perfect person.

Anyone who tells you they are is trying to sell you something.

And yes, I don’t go to church that much. But I go most years on Christmas and Easter with the family. And my wife and I have talked about going more often than that. So that has to count for something, right?

Do I believe in God? Eh, who knows? I mean, I believe in something. Let’s just leave it there.

So when I hit that damn patch of ice on I-87, and tried with all my might to steer my car away from the oncoming tractor trailer, or at least turn it so that I took the brunt of the impact rather than my wife and kids… was I being a hypocrite in whispering “Dear God, please help us?”

Probably. I admit it. Probably. But would you have done anything differently?

The thing is, I prayed to God, and got Stan.

Not that I should complain, I guess.

It was the oddest thing. You’d honestly have to see it to understand it, and I hope to… well… “Stan” … that you never do.

Everything froze. Or if it didn’t freeze exactly it was like watching a DVD frame by frame to see if you could actually see Sharon Stone’s coochie-coochie during the interrogation scene from Basic Instinct. Not that I ever did that. But I’m sure others have. Perverts.

Anyway, everything slowed down, except for this little nebbish of a guy who was suddenly sitting on my windshield. I looked to my right and my wife seemed frozen just as everything else did. A glance in my rearview mirror saw the frozen look of terror on both my kids’ faces. It broke my heart to see that.

But right in front of me? Moving like normal and with a very nonchalant look on his face, was Stan.

“Hey, how goes it?” he asked. He looked back at the oncoming truck and then back to me. “Oooh, this is going to be messy, huh?”

I looked at him in disbelief. And although I was frozen with terror, I wasn’t frozen like the others. I just kept thinking that this was the most fucked up thing I’ve ever seen.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Stan,” he said. He reached forward and his arm went effortlessly through my windshield, as if it weren’t there. My hands were locked on the steering wheel still.

“Oh, you can let go,” he said, cheerfully. “Your car’s not going anywhere now. Trust me.”

With hesitation I removed my hand from the wheel, which did not move, and then shook Stan’s hand.

“I’m Rick,” I said. Or at least I think I said that.

“Yes, yes, I know you’re Rick,” he said, shaking his head. “Rick Charles. Forty-six years old. Married to June. Forty-five years old. Children Lisa, 17, and Marcus, 15. Seems like everyone is present and accounted for. Great, great.”

“Not great!,” I shouted. “We’re all about to die! And the only thing I regret is that I didn’t get a chance to slug the guy at that burger joint who gave me the tainted meat that led me to see you!

Stan shook his head and laughed. Meanwhile, I noticed our car and the tractor trailer getting a bit closer.

“Nope Rick, I’m real,” he said with a smile. “And I’m here to help you. I can save you and your family and make this just another one of those near-miss accident things.”

I’m not genius. But I’ve got this guy, who has stopped time, sitting on the hood of my car, and saying he can save me and my family’s lives. Would any of you have said no?

“Ok… great,” I said. “Thanks, Stan.”

It was then I saw the first glimpse of trouble. Stan smiled weakly, and then started scratching his head and conspicuously stopped making eye contact.

“Um… the thing is,” he stuttered. “I kind of need something from you in return. It’s not a big deal, honest.”

A tip? Any time anyone tells you that something isn’t a big deal? It is a big deal.

“What are you talking about, Stan?” I asked. “What do you need? And who are you? And… THAT TRUCK IS GETTING CLOSER!”

Stan snapped out of it, saw the truck and waved his hands over his head. There was a flash of light, and the next thing I knew I head the sound of my own screeching tires as the car tugged hard to the left and ended up in the breakdown lane. I sat there shaking, with my hands on a wheel I hadn’t turned myself, as I heard the sound of the truck horn blaring in anger as it sped on by.

“Oh my god!” June screamed, her face white as a ghost. Both kids were screaming in the back seat. And there on the windshield, apparently unseen to them all, sat Stan.

“I’ll be in touch,” he whispered. And then he waved his hands over his head again, and he was gone.

***

It had been two weeks since the near accident. As all things do in a busy family, it went from being the world’s biggest event and talked about all the time for the first day, and then forgotten under the morass of sport practices, homework, social lives and everything else by day three.

I thought about Stan a lot, but never said a word to June or the kids. Finally after a week or so, I just wrote it off to some sort of weird vision that helped me avoid that truck. Whatever you want to call it… fate… some sort of mystical thing… I don’t know. But I’d pretty much concluded whatever happened was in my mind, and it helped me to swerve and avoid the truck.

So imagine my surprise when I got to work and saw Stan sitting nervously on a chair in my office.

“Hi there Rick,” he said cheerfully. “Remember me?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. He was some sort of magical creature who appeared to me during what could have been a fatal car accident for my whole family and saved our lives. So… yeah, I remembered him.

“I started to think you were a figment of my imagination,” I said, internally kicking myself for using such a trite cliché. But you try putting together a sentence in a situation like that.

“Nope, I’m not a figment. I’m a sprite,” he said. “And before you ask, NO, I’m not a lemon-lime beverage. That was only funny the first 1000 times I heard it. Actually, it was one of my kind who named the beverage, I think. Or maybe not. I read it on Wikipedia. You really can’t trust the stuff on there, you know?”

I just stared at him. “Sooooo, why are you here,” I asked?

“Well,” he said, sheepishly. “I kinda need something from you, in return for saving your lives.”

Before I could even start to question him, he continued.

“It’s not a deal or anything,” he said. “My job is to help people. Honest. That’s what I do. But, you know, I also like to have fun and get bored. And I get into trouble. I’m a gambler. And a bad one.”

“And what does this have to do with me?,” I said.

“Ok, see… I really did want to help you. Honest I did. But the thing is, I can’t help everyone, you know? I mean, I’d never get a moment’s rest. You understand, right?

“Well I lost some money to this guy who owns a bar around here. Kinda a lot of money. And I sort of promised that, to pay off my debt, I’d help him with his business.”

The number of questions I had were too numerous to mention. I settled on just one.

“And what does this have to do with me?”

He smiled. “You’re a business consultant, right? I thought you could… you know… help him out. See what his problems were and help him out. See, I went looking for people like you who were in trouble that day, and figured, if I saved you you’d do me a favor. That’s all.”

“But can’t you just do that arm waving thing….”

He cut me off quickly. “Nope. I can’t make money. I can’t do stuff to people that they don’t want done. I can’t bring back the dead. Rules. There are lots of rules. Plus, I only have so much magic, you know? If I use too much, then I sort of have to sit out a while.”

Now it was my turn to chuckle. “An allowance. You have a magical allowance? Can’t you just, you know, take out the magical trash or wash the magical dog and earn some more?”

“Hardy har har,” he said. “I’m serious! We’re not supposed to even show ourselves to the people we help if we can help it, and now this guy who I didn’t help has me over a barrel. I could get in a lot of trouble! So can’t you just, talk to him? Help him out? Please?”

I nodded. Stan seemed like a goofball, but he didn’t seem like a bad sort. And lest I forget, he saved my life… whatever his motivation.

“Sure Stan,” I said. “It’ll be like a pro bono case. We do those. Tell me about this guy and his business.”

***

“This is a decent looking place,” I said, as Stan and I walked into Meredith’s Bar, a pub about half a mile from my office. “I’ve driven or walked past this a bunch of times, but never came in.”

“You and most everyone else,” said a booming voice.

I looked up to see a big meaty hand extended towards me, and I shook it. Or at least it shook me.

“Bob Meredith, I’m the owner,“ he said, apparently unwilling to ever end the handshake. “You must be Nick. Damn glad to meet you Nick, and so great of you to see if you can help us out.”

“Rick, “I said.

“Right, right, Rick. Rick,” he said laughing. It was about 60 degrees outside, and this guy was sweating like it was 90. Which was probably also the number of pounds he was overweight.

I somehow managed to get my hand out of his sweaty grip and went into my normal business mode.

“So tell me, Bob, what element of your business are you the most proud of, and what element concerns you the most?”

Bob looked at Stan, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Well,” Bob said, “I’m the most proud that we have a nice little bar and restaurant here, and I’m most concerned about how we’re fucking dying here!”

For a split second I just stared at him, and then he broke into a big sweaty grin.

“Stan said you could help me,” he said, looking right at Stan. “In fact he GUARANTEED it, didn’t you, Stan?”

Stan nodded.

“I’m losing a ton of money every month, Nick, and I have no idea why. I mean, yeah, we don’t got a tons of customers, but we’re over the breakeven point.

“Rick,” I said, apparently without impact.

“The only thing keeping me going is the poker games I run out of the back, and I ain’t officially coded to do that, if you get my drift,” he said, sticking his elbow in my ribs.

“But it normally brings in some good cash… at least from the guys what end up paying what they owe!” he said, smiling at Stan.

Stan smiled weakly back, and they both started laughing.

“So what do you say, Nick? Can you help me out?”

“Rick,” I said. “I’m happy to try, Bob. How about we get a look at your books and see what’s going on?”

“Right this way,” he said, taking my head in a headlock and pulling me towards his office. One thing I was sure of: this guy wasn’t wasting his money on deodorant.

***

“Someone is ripping you off, Bob,” I said matter-of-factly.

“I knew it!” he shouted. “I just knew it! Who? Tell me who!”

I looked up slowly from this mess that he called his “books” and smiled.

“Basically? Everyone.”

I explained to Bob that it was obvious from what he was spending on food and liquor that someone in house was stealing from the till. But also that he had receipts for food and products that he paid for, without accompanying delivery slips.

“I think because you’re careless, your suppliers have been overcharging you. They must know your records aren’t well kept, so they have been getting away with it. I figure you’ve lost about $10,000 in just the last three months,” I said.

“And unless you charge $20 per drink,” I laughed, “Either your bartenders, floor managers or waitstaff are stealing from you too. Maybe all of them.”

Bob put in face in his hands, and Stan patted him on the back. I try not to get emotionally involved with clients, but I felt bad for this guy. He seemed a nice guy, just sloppy and lazy.

“Look Bob, the good news is this — most of this is easy to fix. First off, you have someone you trust take your deliveries every day. Or better yet? You do it. Make sure you’re getting everything you pay for. And second, figure out who is stealing from you, and fire them. Even if five people are stealing, once you fire the first one, you’ll see that the other stealing stops right away.”

I stood up and extended my hand. Bob looked up and reluctantly shook it.

“It was nice meeting you, Bob.” I said. “I wish you the best of luck. I think you’ll see improvement in no time.”

“Stan?” he said, a bit angrily.

“Um… Rick,” said Stan. “I don’t think that’s enough to get me out of trouble with Bob. I’m glad you found some problems, but could you please help him see it through?”

I told Stan that as a consultant, we identify problems, and give people a series of steps they can take to fix them. Normally it takes a few weeks to unearth the real problems in a business, but that Bob’s were so obvious, it was just a few hours. Even still, what I’d just done for him would have cost him about $7,500.

“That’s a start,” Bob said.

“Stan,” I said, arms crossed. “Just how much do you owe Bob?”

***

I’d been working at Meredith’s Bar for two weeks. Coming over for an hour before work, sometimes at lunch, and occasionally after work. Nothing really different than I did when I was working for any client, but I wasn’t getting paid.

I’d helped Bob receive his deliveries, and I felt that we’d solved that issue. The very first day alone, one of his vendors tried to overcharge him by $175.

But we hadn’t been able to crack who’d been stealing from the bar itself, and Bob was getting frustrated.

“I’m losing money every week,” he groused. “I’m going to have to close down! Stan, I’d rather just have the $100,000 you owe me than this fucking guy saving me $175 a pop!”

Stan nodded quickly and spoke very fast, promising Bob he’d work it out. He grabbed me and pulled me aside.

“Rick, I’m in a lot of trouble here!” he whispered. “My supervisors? They got wind of what I did and how much I owe Bob, and I’m in a lot of trouble if I can’t fix it. Plus, I’m getting way behind on my quota for helping people!”

My sympathy for Stan was slowly being replaced by my annoyance of him in the last week. I know he saved my life, but my muscles were sore from hauling boxes, and I too have been falling behind at my real work.

“Stan, I don’t know what else I can do. I’m trying to be a good sport, but enough is enough. Sometimes businesses just close.”

The look of panic in Stan’s eyes was obvious.

“You don’t understand, Rick.” He said. “If… you don’t help me repay my debt to Bob, then… I have to… put you back.”

Before I could say anything, he quickly continued.

“I mean, take you and your family back to that place and time on the highway, and let that truck…. You know.”

My face grew red, and I grabbed Stan by the collar and lifted him up to my eye level.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded. “How could you ever threaten me like that?”

“No…no….”he stammered. “It… it… isn’t a threat. You see, when my supervisors found out what I did… I told them I fixed it by making a deal with you. I’d save your life and you help me fix Bob’s business. And since it’s a deal, if we fail, then … I have to …do what I said. But I don’t want to. Honest!”

“We didn’t have a deal you little shit!” I said, as Bob approached us hearing the screaming. “I never agreed to anything like that!”

“I know… I know,” Stan said, his eyes full of tears. “But I had to tell them something. Please… please… we can fix this. I’ll make everything all right, I promise. But I need your help. Please?”

I put him down and shook my head. I briefly thought about how much money we had in the bank, but realizing it wasn’t more than about $5,000 — which a week a go I thought was a lot of money, I knew that wouldn’t work.

“Ok,” I said. “What do you suggest.?”

***

I have to admit, what Bob and Stan came up with, while weird, was turning out to be ok.

I’d been around the bar way too much for the staff not to think of me as Bob’s eyes, so there was no way they were going to pull anything when I was there.

But when Stan did his little hand waving thing, things were different. Wow, were they different.

When I looked in a mirror I could swear I looked just like my college graduation photo. In every possible way, I was a 22-year old version of myself. At Bob’s suggestion, we took to calling me Nick.

I was the new lunchtime bartender. Stan made it so that from 11:45 am to 1:15 pm every day, I’d turn into Nick. The only weird part was the clothing. I had to have a spare change of Nick clothes at the office, and Rick clothes at the bar.

And I had to make certain I had no working lunches.

But I have to say, I was digging it. You don’t realize how old you’re getting until you get a chance to be young again. It was weird, but pretty great.

I was kind of bummed that it was only Wednesday of my first week as Nick that I found the culprits. Pretty much everyone. The waitresses would pocket money when the customers left cash for payment. I’d see them tear up the tickets and rewrite them for less.

The bartenders did the same. Someone would buy three drinks, but they’d enter “two” in the register, and keep the rest.

Kids these days, huh?

I was a little disappointed that one of the waitresses, Wendy, was one of the biggest thieves. I have to admit that my 22 year old hormones thought she was awesome. And being young again, suddenly 22 year old women don’t look at you like you’re invisible anymore.

Luckily for June, and for me (because who needs that guilt!), that I wasn’t exactly a looker at 22. But hey, at least Wendy smiled at me once in a while.

I gave Bob my recommendations. He’d have to install a computerized ordering system, which would cost him about $6,000, to stop the waitresses. And a video surveillance system at the bar to catch the bartenders. That would be nearly $7,000.

And he’d probably have to fire his staff.

We shook hands, just after I transformed back to Rick for the last time, and I wished him the best of luck.

Stan was nowhere to be found.

***

My eyes grew wide in panic as I hit a patch of ice on I-87, and tried with all my might to steer my car away from the oncoming tractor trailer, or at least turn it so that I took the brunt of the impact rather than my wife and kids.

Before I could scream, everything froze. And there was Stan again, with a sad look on his face.

“I am so sorry, Rick,” he said, tearing up. “So sorry.”

“Stan,” I pleased. “Please. You can’t do this. Please.”

“I don’t want to… but… Bob said the deal was that we fix his business. And it’s not fixed. All that stuff you did, it helped… but he’s still losing money. And my supervisors are really really angry. We can’t welch on deals. It’s a rule.”

“I don’t care about your goddamn rules, Stan,” I said, seeing the car moving towards the truck again. “This is my family we’re talking about!”

“I know,” Stan said. “I know. It’s just… will you agree to a deal? I will save your life and your family’s lives, and in return you and me will help Bob’s business? If we make it a deal then I don’t have to lie anymore. We’re not supposed to lie, either.”

“Fine,” I said. “I agree to the deal, Stan. “I agree.”

“Oh that’s so great,” Stan said. “We have to agree to get him out of debt and back in profit in six weeks, ok? That’s what Bob wanted.”

“Fine, fine! Just stop this, Stan!”

With that he waved his hands in that familiar way.

***

“You know your bar is located in Worcester, Massachusetts, don’t you Bob?” I said, exasperatedly rolling my eyes.

“That’s why this is a such a great idea, don’t you think Stan?” Bob boomed.

Stan shrugged.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid the franchise fees with that loan we took out, so it’s done,” Bob said. “And it is going to be great!”

I’d been spending my lunch hours at Bob’s place, trying to work on his business plan. We talked about trying to do some lunch specials to attract local businessmen. Some theme nights to attract a younger crowd during the week, and maybe making a huge deal of Sundays during the NFL season.

Partly through my relationship with them, I got the bank agree to at $25,000 equity loan to help him upgrade the place, pay for some promotion, and generally help his business.

But what did this fat slob do? He blew most of it on buying in as a Hooters franchisee. In Worcester. Massachusetts.

In some ways, I was happy. It had become a real pain coming over here at lunch every day, and I was getting tired of making excuses at work. But now that he’d gone to a Hooters, there’s no way I could be seen here on a daily basis.

Bob and Stan understood.

The first week did better than I expected. I guess the novelty of the whole thing. But then he was right back in the shit. Luckily, some guys from my office said they wanted to check it out, so I “reluctantly” went along.

The problems were obvious. This was, after all, Worcester, Massachusetts. And while I’d not been in a Hooters before, I’ve seen the pictures of the girls. These were NOT what they were supposed to look like.

When I got up to go to the restroom, Bob and Stan signaled to me.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m with people!”

With that, Stan did that hand waving thing, and I was “Nick” again. Have to say… I missed it.

Still, when I shuffled over to them, I was a bit pissed.

“Look, I’m with people from work,” I said. “What do you want?”

Bob grabbed me into a bear hug. My god did he stink.

“You gotta help me,” he said. “It’s not working out. I’m going to go out of business. I’ve got maybe two or three months and then it’s over. Please?”

I looked at Stan and he had a scared look on his face. I’m glad he hadn’t told Bob about our deal.

“I can’t help you if you don’t listen to me, Bob.” I said coldly. “I tried to help you, and now you’ve spent all this cash to open a Hooters with girls who aren’t even as cute as the ones you had at the bar before!”

I turned to Stan. “Can’t you…. You know… Do anything about that?”

Stan shook his head. “I can’t. Mostly because I can only help people that are in danger, and these women aren’t in danger. But also… I’m in a lot of trouble for this whole mess and I’m not allowed to do too much right now.”

My young face felt like it was burning hot. For the first time, I was really afraid that my family could be in real danger.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” I said. “Can you get your money back from Hooters? Go back to the bar?”

Bob shook his head. He then looked at Stan, and gave him a “come on, do it” look.

“Look, Rick…um… I mean Nick,” Stan said. “What if… you know… what if, just for few hours a day….”

I cut him off.

“No. Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. No.”

“You gotta do it,” Bob said. “Look, just one cute girl… and a girl who got good business sense… you could really help. Please… just at lunch time. Please?”

I looked at Stan. He shrugged. He also looked scared. That scared me too.

“Bob,” I said. “If I agree to this, and we try it… and it doesn’t work, will you admit that we did all we could for you?”

“Sure, sure,” Bob said. “Sure I will.”

“Then fine,” I said. “Two hours day. No more. And you have to make me as… masculine as you can, Stan.”

Bob shook his head.

“I got that already! I think that one girl has a mustache!”

I laughed. “No, I just mean… you know that girl on Baywatch? The one with the short hair and the only one without fake boobs? She’s a million times better looking than anyone here, but not ridiculous. It has to be something like that. Pretty but athletic. Ok?”

Bob nodded. As Stan started to wave his hands, I stopped him.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “I have to get back to work.”

With that he waved his hands, and I was back to my old self again, and returned to my co-workers.

***

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep that night. June wanted sex, and that was a great thing. Because more than anything, I needed something to affirm my masculinity right then.

I left the office at 11 a.m., saying I had a doctor’s appointment. We hadn’t worked out the clothing thing, so I wanted to get there early and figure out how this was going to work.

Bob and Stan were waiting for me in Bob’s office.

Stan explained how it would work. I would be changed for two hours a day, whenever I wanted. I could change back and forth as necessary. He said I just had to think about the change and it would happen. The same going back.

Bob handed me a small bag, a sick smile on his face. I pulled out the tiny orange shorts, a pair of very small underwear… and a white shirt that seemed about the size my daughter wore when she was five. In the bag were also a pair of sneakers, socks, a bra, and some pantyhose.

I looked at them in horror.

“Guys,” I said. “I don’t know how to put this stuff on? Pantyhose? Are you kidding me?”

Bob pushed across a booklet. It was the code of conduct for a Hooters waitress.

“That’s the rules, Nikki” he said with a laugh. “Seriously, they take it serious and if they see I’m not enforcing it then I can get fined.”

I sighed.

“Rick,” said Stan. “I can make it so… so… you know how to do that stuff. If you want. It’ll be like you’ve done it before.”

I nodded.

I took the bag and walked into Bob’s bathroom. As I was going, I saw Stan do the hand waving thing out of the corner of my eyes.

I took a deep breath and thought “Nikki” in my mind, and I was stunned at how fast it happened. It wasn’t much different then when I become Nick. It was instantaneous.

I looked in the mirror and there was my face. My pretty female face. My suit hung on me and made me look ridiculous. Luckily I didn’t get much shorter… maybe an inch tops. But I also couldn’t weigh more than 110 pounds.

I hung up my suit coat, and as I undid my tie and opened my shirt, there they were. Breasts. I had breasts. They weren’t even as big as June’s, but they were on my body. And I’d kind of forgotten what 22 year old breasts look like. So perky and alert. Gravity and age had taken their toll on June’s body, like it does every woman.

I felt like a pervert staring. Getting turned on… by myself.

I quickly picked up the bra and put it on. I usually fumble with June’s when I’m trying to take it off of her, but I put this on in quick order, without even thinking. It was weird.

I tried not to even look at the below the belt changes, but it was a bit obvious when my underwear fell to the floor that there was nothing flopping around. As I pulled up the panties, they covered my now smooth front.

I sat on the closed toilet and quickly and carefully pulled on the pantyhose as if I’d done it a million times before. Pointed my toes and carefully pulled them up my thin smooth and pretty legs.

What snapped me out of this was the shorts. They were so tight. I got them on, and I could feel my ass pressing against them. I was athletic, no doubt, but there’s still a difference between a woman’s ass and a man’s. I had “back” no question about it.

The shirt was tight. Very tight. And it made my little breasts look a bit bigger, and my smooth tanned arms look even more golden next to the bright white arms of the shirt.

The last thing in the bag was a little name tag that said “Nikki”. I pinned it on and walked out back into Bob’s office.

Stan looked stunned. Bob started laughing. But I could see they were both looking at me differently.

I said nothing and walked into the restaurant.

Luckily it wasn’t too crowded, but Bob, who had followed right behind me, grabbed my shoulder and stopped me.

He turned me around like I was a rag doll.

“You need this… honey,” he said with a smile, as two other waitresses were walking past. He tied this brown little sack around my waist, and put a pen and a pad of order slips in it.

“There’s your first table… go,” he said.

I walked up to the table, and put a smile on my face. It was four young kids, all wearing shirts and ties. Probably college interns at a local company. Their expressions changed when I walked up. They were smiling, and looking at me…in a way I’d never been looked at before.

I remembered how I’d been greeted when we came yesterday, so I took a little breath and just said “Hi, I’m Nikki. Welcome to Hooters. How can I help you today?”

The rest of the two hours was a blur. Waitressing is hard work, it turns out. First of all, the trays of food were heavy to this little body. And I didn’t like the way I could feel my ass shake when I walked. Thank heaven for a tight shirt and smallish breasts. The only embarrassing moment I had with them was when I was waiting on a table right under the air conditioning vent, and I could feel my nipples poking through my shirt. And I could see the guys noticing it too.

I purposely avoid talking to the other waitresses. It just felt too weird, and I didn’t want to have to answer any questions.

My last table was a pair of couples. At one point I caught the eye of one of the women. She was probably a few years younger than me. The real me.. not.. Nikki. And she shot me this look. It was… not nice. I think it was because she didn’t like the way her husband or boyfriend was looking at me.

But all I did was smile back, gave them their check, and waited for them to leave.

When I walked back into Bob’s office, I was exhausted. Mentally, and physically.

“Well done well done!” Bob said, grabbing me for a big hug. The hug wasn’t the least bit sexual, but I have to say I found it very violating. I pulled away as soon as I could.

“I got lots of compliments from people, saying we finally have a real Hooters waitress in the place! I tell them to come back tomorrow! I think maybe this will work!”

I couldn’t share his enthusiasm. I unclasped the bag around my waist, and handed it to him.

“I think there’s a few hundred dollars in there in tips,” I said. I tried to speak as little as possible, as the sound of a female voice coming out of my mouth was so strange. “Add it to your take for the day.”

Bob pulled out the cash, and smiled. I shrugged and went back into his bathroom. As I closed the door behind me, I looked in the mirror and saw an attractive, but tired, 22-year old Hooters waitress. That’s who I was.

It was a relief to get out of the uniform and back into my own body and clothing. I quickly dressed and went back to the office, without saying a word.

***

A strange thing happened the rest of that first week. I started to enjoy, or at least not mind, my time as Nikki.

First of all, even more so then when I was Nick, it felt amazing to be so young and have so much energy.

And although I missed having the strength of a man, I watched the other waitresses and learned how to use balance and leverage in toting the food. It made it easier.

Most all of the customers were nice. I always smiled and was polite, and avoided all chit chat. But they didn’t seem to mind. Bob had his best week by far financially.

He says that I was bringing in some word of mouth business, but I think it was mostly due to the fact that he had an extra waitress on duty that he wasn’t paying, and who was giving him about $200 a day in tips. That adds up.

The only problem came on the weekend. I agreed to just work during the week, and Bob understood that. But the thing Stan did to me… I had to spend two hours a day as Nikki… even if I wasn’t working.

I had no way of contacting Stan to fix this, so I learned to deal with it. But it was strange.

I showered as Nikki. I used the bathroom as Nikki. And then normally after my wife and kids were in bed, I went down to my office in the basement and sat around as Nikki until the two hours were up.

Once I got past the weirdness, god was it a turn on. Yes, I masturbated. The first time I did it it freaked me out. A male orgasm is so different. As a guy it just builds up and then boom, it’s over. But in a woman’s body the building up is amazing. And then when I thought this was the orgasm part, it would get bigger and better. And then even more than that. Even when it was over, if I just touched myself in the wrong way my body with shiver with pleasure.

Experiencing that, I couldn’t understand why women didn’t want sex all the time.

On Sunday night, when June was packing her work folders into her car, I went into her drawers and got a pair of panties and one of her night shirts. I jammed them in my desk drawer so that I wouldn’t have to always be naked when I was Nikki. I had tried on one of my t-shirts, but was surprised how coarse the shirt felt on my nipples. It was unpleasant. Her night shirts were so nice and soft.

As I sat at my desk later that night, a pair of black panties covering my pussy that was still throbbing from my latest orgasm, a light pink night shirt coolly titillating my perky breasts, and setting my fantasy football lineup on the computer, I had to laugh at what a strange place I’d reached in my life.

***

“Tell him!,” I heard Bob yelling at Stan. “Tell him or deal’s off!”

I wasn’t sure what I was walking in on this Monday right around noon, but instead of going into Bob’s bathroom to “change” I approached the two of them.

“What’s going on?”I asked. I was pretty sure whatever it was, I wasn’t going to like the answer to my question.

“Ok, Rick,… see…” Stan mumbled. “See? Um…..”

“Tell him!” Bob boomed.

“Ok, here’s the thing. The business is doing better, you know? And Bob’s happy… ish. But we’re nowhere near paying off all that I owe. And he’s getting impatient. The only time he makes money is when you’re here… and … well….”

“You’re not here enough!” Bob said loudly. “And I need my best waitress on the weekends! I mean, that’s my busiest time! Plus, your goddamn tits are too small. A pretty face don’t feed the bulldog around here.”

I know I shouldn’t have, but I lost it.

“You fat piece of shit,” I screamed at him. “You lazy, STUPID, fat piece of shit! You lazy, stupid, have-no-idea-how-to-run-a-business fat piece of shit!...”

Stan grabbed my shoulders and stopped me. I don’t know how long I would have kept going, but I bet I had another 10 or 11 minutes in me, easily.

“Boys, boys,” Stan said, as soothingly as he could. “We can work this out, right? Bob, you understand how it’s hard for Rick, right? Being here more?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Bob shrugged.

“And Rick, this is Bob’s business. He’s got his life savings invested here. You can understand why he’d want us to do anything and everything we can to help him, right?”

I nodded.

Stan had a plan. I would work one shift each weekend, not two like Bob wanted. I’d have to lie to the family and say that I had a new client. I hated doing it, but I understood. Hell, the fact was that if we didn’t put him in profit, I could be sacrificing the lives of me and my family. So it was easy to understand. My time each day would move up to 3 hours. I’d try to arrive a bit earlier and stay a bit later each day, but I wasn’t going to come back after work like Bob wanted. And I had to agree to… bigger tits.

Bob smiled. “A lot bigger!” he growled.

Stan waved his hands before I could say anything and the results were… amazing. Not only did I turn into Nikki, but I was fully dressed in my uniform. I looked down, and all I could see was the gulf between what apparently were two pretty goddamn big tits.

Instinctively, I reached up and felt them. They were heavy.

“How big?” I said to Stan.

“You’re a C cup now,” Stan said.

In this tight shirt, and since they were on my chest, they felt a helluva lot bigger.

Bob, it seemed, was only somewhat satisfied, and grumbled “Get on the floor” and shoved me out of his office.

That first week, my tips more than doubled. I didn’t act one iota differently, but everything I did or said, with these two big flesh bags on my chest, took on some sort of playful sexual innuendo to the customers it seemed.

I stopped asking altogether if guys wanted milk in their coffee, for example.

I do think my new tits, and extra hours, was working. Business was picking up, but Bob was still complaining that when I wasn’t here, the place was kind of dead. But he’d had no luck hiring any new staff that could… well…stack up.

I again reminded him that he was living in Worcester, Massachusetts.

And beyond Bob’s problems, I was having problems of my own. First of all, these tits made my back hurt, and the extra hours of carrying them around made me tired as well.

My boss at work, my real boss, certainly noticed, and I started getting a few snide remarks around the office. Ken Tighes was a fair guy, a good guy. But he was 35 years old, and kind of thought that any of us “old” guys who worked for him must be without ambition. So when he sensed we were slacking off, it wasn’t good.

Not much I could do about it, though. Just had to get through this.

Ken being ticked at me, though, had one side benefit. It made it easier to lie to June. I told her he’d been coming down hard on me, and that because of it I had to work one weekend day each week. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

Our sex life suffered too. I admit that being Nikki made me horny, and made me so much more want to have regular sex as a guy… but I was so damn tired, it didn’t happen much.

***

Sex, apparently, was not just an issue in my household, but at my second job as well.

After two weeks of being the new Nikki, Bob reminded Stan that we had three weeks to get him into profit, or he’d consider the deal a failure.

Stan just looked at me. We both knew what that meant.

I never knew how much Bob knew about Stan’s situation, nor the deal he made with me. Until this moment.

“In the next two weeks, either I’m making money, or my business is dead, and so is your family,” Bob sneered. He was so angry all the time, it seemed. I didn’t like being threatened, but Stan shot me a look before I could say anything I’d regret.

He was right. I kept my mouth closed.

Bob pulled a dog-eared pamphlet out from his drawer and threw it on his desk.

“I been reading this handbook, and it gave me some ideas. And this time, we’re doing what I want and that’s it. You both understand?”

I didn’t like where this was going.

Bob grabbed Stan, and started talking in his ear. He was animated, and had a smirk on his face. Stan looked scared. I imagine I did as well.

“Do it, “ Bob said.

“I can’t,” Stan said. “You know I can’t. Not like that. Rick… you have to.. .agree. Or I can’t do it. Just say you agree. Please.”

“Agree to what, Stan?” I asked. “I need to know what…”

“No, you don’t. It’s better… just… agree. Trust me. Please?”

I thought about the car. The truck. The ice. My family.

“It’s just for three weeks, right?” I said.

Stan nodded.

“Ok, then…. I agree.”

This time, when Stan waived his arms, I actually felt something that was closer to pain. It was over in an instant, but I felt like my body and had been electrocuted. And I felt it inside my head as well.

When I looked down…

“Holy Shit!” I said. But in a voice so much higher and sexier than it had been before. It almost sounded cute.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Bob said, smiling.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him, putting one meaty arm around my shoulder, and the other, was actually grabbing my tits. My now… huge tits.

He smelled… almost … good?

“Stan?” I said, meekly… confused and aroused.

“Bitsy,” he said. “You have to go by Bitsy now when you’re a girl. With all these changes, no one is going to buy that you’re still Nikki, ok? “

I nodded, my name was the least of it. And why wasn’t I stopping this grope-a-thon Bob was doing on my new body?

“You’re in there for five hours a day now, Rick,” Stan said. “Just for three weeks. Those… breasts. Those are double D sized.”

I looked up to Bob, who now seemed taller, and he smiled down at me.

“I’m shorter?” I asked.

“Almost 5-3,” Stan said. “Bob wanted you even shorter, but then you would have trouble with the trays.”

Bob turned me towards him, he put both hands on my huge tits and started massaging them. It felt good. He then started to kiss me, and I kissed him back. He smelled so sweet, so sexy.

I felt his tongue in my mouth, and I returned the favor. My hands were on his chest. He was so big and strong. He took my hands and put them down on his crotch. I could feel his growing dick in his pants…

“Bob, stop that!” Stan yelled. “Stop that right now!”

Bob pushed me away, holding up his hands as if to say “Oh sorry” but with a wide eyed grin on his face.

I could still taste him in my mouth, and feel my own wetness in my crotch.

“Rick… you’re… bisexual now,” Stan said. “Bob said he’d had enough of the ice queen. He needed someone who’d flirt more, and just overall be more…. amenable to things. To men. Do you understand?”

Before I could say anything, Bob grabbed me again, and pulled me in for another kiss. While we were kissing, I could feel him grinding his hard dick against my smooth, wet front.

Before Stan could protest, Bob spun me back around, patted me on the ass, and said “Out on the floor!” as he pushed me out into the restaurant.

***

Those first hours as Bitsy were a disaster. For one thing, the other girls had gotten used to Nikki. And while she was pretty, she didn’t look like I look now. Now, they could have set their hair on fire and every eye in the place would still be on me.

The customers seemed to take every opportunity to brush up against me. Or maybe being so big, I just hadn’t figured out how to bend over a table without my huge tits rubbing the shoulder, or arm of a customer.

And I’d never noticed before how many cute guys came here. Seems like all our customers were just so attractive. I imagined what it would be like kissing them like I kissed Bob, or having them feel me up like Bob did.

And because I was thinking that, I was messing up orders. Forgetting drink refills.

The tips were huge, but they other waitresses were pissed at having to cover the stupid mistakes I was making. It only took about 30 minutes for them to start complaining to Bob about the new girl.

“We didn’t hire her for her brains,” Bob said loudly in front of not only the staff, but the customers. I couldn’t help but blush. “But I’ll shape her up, you’ll see,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later, after I delivered two platters of wings to a table that had no one sitting at it, I heard Bob scream “Bitsy, my office right now!” and I followed him in, noting the delighted and satisfied smiles of the other waitresses as I did so.

I wanted to tell him to just give me a few days to get adjusted to this, and that I’d go back to being a good waitress, but I knew right away that’s not what he wanted to hear.

He didn’t want to hear anything, actually. As soon as the door was shut, he pulled down his pants and let loose his big, thick cock.

I looked nervously for Stan, but he was gone. Bob had waited for him to leave.

He didn’t have to say anything, nor did I have any interest in resisting. I was all over him like bar-b-que sauce on a spare rib. I’d never sucked a cock before, and certainly June wasn’t into doing it, so I don’t know where the skill or passion came from, but I was loving every minute of sliding it inside my mouth and down my throat.

At one point Bob stopped me, flung my arms over my head and pulled off my tight top and unhooked my bra.

The first time I got a good look at my new, double d’s, I was wrapping them around his big sweaty member and letting him tit fuck me.

It was just a few minutes later that he picked me up and put me on his couch. I didn’t even notice him take my pants off, but he must have done so… because when I opened my eyes I could see him rolling a condom onto his dick before plunging it into my pussy.

The only thing I’d put into it before was my fingers, and this was… not that. It was so big, and hard and good. He pumped me like a dozen times, his hands squeezing my huge tits, and pinching and pulling at my nipples before I heard him grunt and push further inside me.

He pulled out and there was a wet “pop” as he did so. He leaned down and kissed me hard, and then got up and went into the bathroom to clean up.

I laid there for a minute, my head spinning. I should have felt violated, but I didn’t. I liked it. But I didn’t have an orgasm either, so it was a bit frustrating.

When he emerged, her threw me a damp face cloth.

“Get you ass cleaned up and back out onto the floor,” he said. “Time is money.”

I did what he said, wiping his sweat off of me and getting my clothes back on. When I did so, he was at his desk with his face in the franchisee manual, so I just went back to work.

***

Stan was no where to be found the rest of that first week, and Bob seemed happy about that.

I usually started and ended every shift with some kind of sex with Bob. God was he sexy. I never had an orgasm with him, but he was always pleased and it turned me on something fierce.

On Wednesday, I showed up at 11:30 and was hoping I was going to get to give him a blow job, but instead there were these big lights in his office and another man standing there.

Bob explained that he was going to make a poster of me, and sell it in the restaurant. Seemed like good thinking. I wore my uniform, and the photographer, Michael, kept telling me what to do. I found it so erotic. Posing like this.

When it was over, Bob pushed me towards Michael, and I was happy to comply. He was sexy too. I got on my knees and gave him the blowjob I was going to give to Bob. He came quickly and then I went to work.

When I was Rick, things were just as weird. Stan didn’t explain that this “bisexual” thing was not just when I was Bitsy. At the office, I’d look at Ken and get aroused. The interns too. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but I had to work so hard not to get caught staring at other men.

On Thursday, Ken and about six of my colleges from the office showed up for lunch. I have to admit, I found it a turn on. I spent way too much time at that table, making sure that Ken had plenty of good looks down my shirt, as well as brushing my big tits against him whenever I could.

They left a $100 tip. Which of course I gave right to Bob.

In some ways, it felt better that week being Bitsy than being Rick. Things made sense as Bitsy, but as Rick, they were fraught with peril.

My time at home was difficult. I felt so guilty about having sex with Bob, and the photographer, that I couldn’t bring myself to make love to my wife. I kept saying to myself that it was only another few weeks, but that didn’t make it much better.

The real problem came on Friday night. June and the kids were going to her mother’s house for the weekend. Since I had to work, I was happily excused.

But that left me alone in the house on Friday night.

When I got home, I was so longing to be Bitsy, but I’d used up my hours for the day. So when midnight came, I immediately transformed.

I spent the next three hours masturbating with anything and everything I could find. I tried on some of June’s clothes (none of the tops would fit) and basically drove myself to orgasm after orgasm, finally falling asleep in bed in a puddle of my own wetness.

***

When I walked into Bob’s office, he didn’t even notice the sheepish look on my face. He just stood up and walked around the desk. The ass wasn’t even wearing pants, as he was obviously waiting for me.

I had to fight the urge to tell him that I thought he was sexy.

“Bob, um…. We have a problem.” I said.

“I don’t want to hear about problems, go ahead and change, I’m horny here,” he said.

“That’s the thing,” I said. “I can’t change. Not today I wish I could, sorry.”

I started to explain what happened, but I got midway through it before he just screamed “STAAAN!” at the top of his lungs. Two seconds later, Stan appeared. That’s all I had to do to call him?

Bob started screaming at Stan, retelling him my story. He made it sound worse than it was, but most of it was true, so I just let him go.

Stan shrugged, turned towards me and waved his arms, and I was Bitsy once more.

“There,” Stan said, not really making eye contact with me. “Fixed.”

With that, he vanished, and Bob pulled me towards him. I felt so guilty for what I’d done, I gave him the best blow job I knew how.

I’d been on the floor for almost three hours without a break, trying to do the best I could to help the bottom line. The other waitresses went from scowling at me, to just pretending I didn’t exist.

I noticed I only had 20 minutes left, so I went into Bob’s office. I wasn’t sure he wanted me to work, or to let him fuck me with the rest of my time. But he’s the boss so it’s his choice.

By the way he threw me on the couch and pawing at me, I knew the answer. He was more animalistic than before, and I found that so attractive. As he was pumping into me I felt something I’d not felt before… an orgasm coming.

“Oh god Bob,” I cooed. I never spoke during sex, but I couldn’t help it. “Please, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He didn’t, I felt the waves of pleasure crashing down on me as he continued to pound me. I loved every minute of it. He was squeezing my big tits so hard, but it felt so good. Everything did. I leaned up to kiss him, and he met me passionately.

He kept pounding, even after I could feel that he’d finished, and I kept having wave after wave of pleasure.

I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes.

I awoke 30 minutes later with a start. I was lying on the couch, still sweaty and naked, and Bob was at his desk deep into the day’s ledger.

“Why…am I still like this?” I asked groggily.

“Because you’re like that until I decide to change you back,” he said. “I told Stan we couldn’t trust you to do it any more, so now you change when I say. So get your ass back into the restaurant, you’re working a second shift.”

Stan said that he couldn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want, but I wasn’t going to argue. Plus, I did tell him that I wish I could have changed for him. I guess that was good enough.

Working a second shift in this body was going to be near impossible. These tits feel like they weigh 10 pounds apiece. I’m sure they don’t but they sure feel like it.

Bob knew this, and after a few minutes he set up a table near the bar, and had me sit there and sign my poster for the customers (after they paid their $10 for it) and let them take pictures with me. Me kissing them. Them pretending to grope me. That sort of thing. A week ago, it humiliated me. Now, it was just what I did.

Bob called it a second shift, but I worked until closing time. The only breaks I had were for sex, and each time, I orgasmed. I got wet just looking at him. He was so hot, so sexy. God, I think I loved him.

At the end of the night, while I was sucking his cock, Bob said that today was the best day in the history of the restaurant, and that with today’s take, he was officially out of debt. I smiled as he said it, and moments later I smiled again when he pulled out and came all over my big tits. I was growing to love that.

I cleaned myself, but didn’t bother to get dressed, since I’d be heading home.

“Can you please change me back now, Bob,” I said?

“I don’t think so, sweet-cheeks,” he smiled. “You said your family is gone all weekend, right? Wouldn’t you rather spend the weekend with me?”

I had to admit, he was right.

It was kind of exciting. I’d only been a woman at the restaurant and in my house. But we went out to a club and went dancing. I didn’t have any clothes to wear, so he let me wear my Hooters uniform. I remember reading in the manual that it was a huge no-no to wear it outside of work, but when I told him that, he told me that we’d take a chance and maybe drum up some business.

From the way all the guys were staring at me as I grinded against Bob on the dance floor, I think he was right.

Dancing as a woman was fabulous. Just moving around was sensual and arousing. I could feel the wetness between my thighs, and my dancing would cause my tits to wobble even inside my skin tight shirt.

By the time we got to his apartment, we barely made it to the bed before I was naked and he was inside me.

We made love all night long. Or maybe we fucked. God, it felt more like making love. He was so strong, but gentle. There’s something about a big man, that’s so manly. It’s arousing. I feel asleep on his chest.

***

It was the first time I’d woken up in a woman’s body. It wasn’t much different than waking up as a man, except instead of scratching my balls, I found myself tugging at my nipples as if to say “wake up, sleepyheads”.

I grabbed one of Bob’s t-shirts and threw it on. He wore a 4X, wow that’s so big and manly, I thought. And it fit nicely over my tits. When I walked out into his living room, I saw him and Stan sitting there. They seemed to be having a bit of an argument.

“Hi Stan,” I said sleepily. “Long time no see. Did Bob tell you, he’s in the black? We’re done, we did it. Come to think of it, why am I still Bitsy?”

I leaned over and kissed Bob good morning.

Stan just looked at me, and frowned. “Because yesterday, I gave Bob the ability to change you back, and now he won’t.”

I looked at Bob. “C’mon Bob, you’re in profit now… we kept our bargain.”

I should have been angry, but I spoke calmly and sweetly.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna stay that way,” he said. “Moment you leave? The business goes to shit again. Plus, you love being with me, don’t you?”

I nodded. The sex was great. He was great.

“Enough,” Stan said. “That’s enough. I can’t fix everything, but I can fix that!”

Stan stood up and waved his arms. I instinctively looked down at myself expecting a change, but nothing happened. I looked up at them quizzically, and then I saw Bob. That fat, ugly, sweaty, smelly guy… who I’d had sex with constantly for the past three weeks.

I immediately ran into the bathroom. I was going to be sick.

Stan came in and held my hair back while I leaned over the toilet, expecting to throw up. False alarm.

“I’m so sorry, Rick, really I am,” Stan said. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, that’s why I couldn’t be around to see it. Bob didn’t want you to be bisexual or flirty or whatever. Didn’t you notice you weren’t attracted to women? To your wife? He wanted you to be a horny, heterosexual female, and madly in love with his body to boot.

Since it was just for three weeks, I thought you could deal with it. For your family, you know?”

I sat back on the floor and looked up at Stan. I should have been furious at him for what he did, but the fact was, he was right. And if he’d told me what was going to happen? And I had to specifically agree to it? With my family’s lives in the balance, I would still have done it. Who wouldn’t have? At least let me keep my dignity by not having to specifically wish to be Bob’s huge boobed slut for three week.

I leaned up and patted him on the shoulder.

“Not your fault, Stan,” I said. “Whatever you did, I certainly didn’t find it anything but great when I was doing it. It’s just thinking about what I did that makes me… you know.”

“But how come I still look like this now? Can’t you fix it?”

Stan explained that because of yesterday, giving Bob the power to change me back, he could not. Bob was given a one-time power to change me back. And obviously he was enough of a business man to know you milk a good thing when you’ve got it.

I reached up and hefted my huge boobs. I probably shouldn’t have used the word “milk”, I thought.

***

Our discussion with Bob didn’t get anywhere. He could keep me looking like this, yes, but I obviously was not going to work for him. Stan was clear that my end of the bargain was settled, as was his with Bob.

But Bob wanted to cut another deal. I keep working for him, and he lets Stan change me back.

“No dice,” I said. “I’ve done enough. More than enough. I’ve got a family that needs a father and husband. If you leave me like this, you’ll never see me again. And sadly, neither will my family. I’ll have to go away somewhere. And all you’re going to get is the satisfaction that you’ve ruined the lives of me and my family, Bob. Nothing else. And you know, even before you made me your sex toy, I really did work hard to help you out.”

Bob rubbed the back of the neck, and nodded. The guy got drunk with sexual power the last couple of weeks (and who could blame him? In this body, I’m a Hall of Fame piece of ass), but overall he was just a guy trying to make his business work.

“I wish you were changed back again,” he muttered.

Even after changing back, the conversation continued. Stan and I were under no obligation to help, but we did like the guy. And as I put on a happy face while giving him suggestions about inventory, pricing, hours, promotions and so forth, I knew in my heart that it wasn’t going to be enough.

It was nearly 10 a.m., and he had to get to the restaurant to open. He shook my hand and said thank you.

“I really appreciate everything you did, Rick,” he said. “And sorry about… you know, all that other stuff.”

By the other stuff he meant making me suck his cock and let him fuck me anytime he wanted for three weeks. I’m not sure “sorry about all that other stuff” really is a worthwhile apology, but it was the best I could get.

“No problem,” I said.

***

It had been a month since I’d been in the Hooters. I drove by every day that I could, trying to see how full the parking lot was. It seemed like he was doing ok.

Back at my real job, I was kicking major ass with a few clients. Ken was impressed. Even so, I bet he was still more impressed by the view of my big tits he got that one time.

Life at home was good too. June was thrilled I wasn’t working weekends. Our sex life was back to normal too.

Everything was great.

Except it wasn’t.

I was… bored. I woke up every morning to the aches and creaks of a 46-year old man’s body. June was still pretty for her age, but my arousal was because of how much I loved her, not from her body. I hoped she couldn’t see tell that.

I’d fallen back into my old routines. And before all this stuff with Stan and Bob happened, I think I’d convinced myself that my life was pretty exciting. Well that ship had certainly sailed.

I kind of missed the excitement of the transformations. It was exciting to see life from that perspective. Yes — I’ll admit it: Hello, my name is Rick, and I liked being a big boobed Hooters waitress.

Doubt they’ll ever have a support group for something like that.

***

It was tricky to pull off.

It took two weeks of joking about it, and testing the waters. But finally I convinced June that we should check out the city’s newest restaurant.

She rolled her eyes at me, and finally gave up. She did say that if they opened a restaurant with all hot guys working in tight little shorts called “Cocks” (with a big rooster as the logo, naturally) I better be just as accommodating.

I agreed.

It was a Wednesday evening. We never saw the kids much during the week until their curfews — they were teenagers, and there’s nothing less interesting to a teenager than time spent with their parents -- so it was a perfect time for June and I to go out to dinner.

The place looked the same. It seemed like Bob had hired a few new girls. Not bad. One had a nice set of tits, but her face was not much to look at. And a few others could easily be called “cute.” Maybe he could find girls in Worcester after all.

As we were seated, I noticed a stack of my posters at the bar, with a sign that said “$1. Clearance.” Oh how easily we are forgotten.

June and I were munching on some chicken wings — they really are pretty good — when I saw Bob come out of his office. It took him a few minutes to see me, but when he did he smiled and waved me over.

June didn’t see him do that, thankfully, and I just excused myself to use the bathroom.

“Hey there, Rick,” Bob said, almost in a whisper. “Thought I’d never see you again! That’s the missus? How’d you get her here?”

“I wanted to check in on you,” I said, trying to get my hand out of the handshake that had, as usual, lasted too long. “How’s it going?”

Bob pulled me down the corridor towards the bathroom, out of earshot of the staff.

“I think it’s going as good as it can go,” he said. “We might make it. It’s going to be month to month.”

Up close, he looked exhausted.

“How about you?”

I told him that business was good, life was good, family was good, etc. I think he could see the tired look in my eyes too.

I glanced over to the table to make sure June wasn’t on the prowl. I saw her give the waitress a disapproving glance as she delivered her another Diet Coke.

“To be honest, Bob,” I said. “I kind of miss working here. Being here. Being… her.”

Bob laughed a bit too loudly for two men standing outside a restroom. I hit him on the shoulder.

“I knew it!,” he whispered. “I knew you liked sucking cock!”

Before I could hit him again, he started laughing. “Just kidding, just kidding,” he said. “But Stan said he bet you’d miss it at some point.”

“You still see Stan,” I asked?

“Oh sure, every Friday night, I still do the poker games in my office. He’s still a terrible player.”

We both had a laugh.

“Hey Stan,” he whispered to no one. And then Stan appeared.

“What are you, at his beck and call,” I said, smiling while shaking Stan’s hand.

“Well, just for a while. I could have sworn my three jacks would win that damn hand.”

I shook my head.

“Hey Stan,” I said, looking at the ground. “Look, what if I….”

Stan and Bob exchanged smiles.

“What if you wanted to spend some time as Bitsy?,” he said. “I’m not sure I could do anything for you, Rick.”

I remembered Stan’s rules.

“Thing is, Stan, I’m in trouble. I mean, I’m bored. And that’s troubling… right?”

Stan smiled.

“Ok, ok, I’m a softy. Here’s the deal. Ten hours per week. You decide when. But you have to promise to work at least two shifts for Bob. Is that acceptable?”

Now I smiled.

“Make it 12 hours, and I’ll try to work three?” I said.

Stan waved his hands and I became Bitsy. “Done!” he said, too loudly for three guys standing outside a restroom.

And WAY too loud for three guys standing outside a restroom when one of their wives is standing two feet away, arms crossed and really pissed.

***

We sat in Bob’s office for an hour. The first 55 minutes were spent with June yelling at me. The next five she yelled at Stan and Bob. I would have thought she’d have been amazed by the magic of the transformation. The site of her husband as a big-boobed woman. But she was too busy being incredibly pissed off at me to really appreciate it, I thought.

Still, when she got tired from yelling, Stan and Bob stepped in. Stan explained about the car accident. Bob explained about Stan’s gambling. I prayed to God that neither of them explained about me and Bob, and they didn’t.

June just keep nodding, and looking over at me. She had made me stay as Bitsy the whole time. I think she thought it was a punishment. I tried to pretend that it was.

Her mood seemed to be softening. Stan really put on the hard sell about the accident, and about how I said I’d do “anything” to save my family… and how this was that “anything.”

She started to cry, and leaned over to hug me.

I changed back before she did. I figured that was what she’d have wanted.

After she calmed down, she looked at me and, very sadly, asked just one question.

“But why do you want to keep doing it when you don’t have to anymore?”

Lie. I knew if I lied, said that I’d had to make another deal to save us, that Stan and Bob would back me up. But looking into her eyes, I couldn’t.

“Honey,” I said. “I can’t help it… being young again, and being a woman, I find it so exciting. I still love you and the kids. I don’t want to be this way forever, but just once in a while. It’s like a little adventure. And also, it really helps Bob here out. And he’s a good guy. I don’t want to hurt you though. If you want me to give it up, I will. I promise.”

June sat silently for a few minutes.

“Turn back,” she said, almost clinically.

I did it, and never felt more self conscious in my life.

“Stand up,” she said, and I did so.

“Those boobs are huge,” she said, laughing. “Don’t they hurt your back?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Well… yeah,” I said. “But… you get used to it.”

“Well I don’t want mine to be quite so big, Stan,” she said. “And I’d like to be a little taller, and a brunette.”

We all stood there, stunned.

“Same deal as my… “husband”” she said, slapping me on the butt and smiling.

Stan just looked at me, and I shrugged.

“I’d like April,” she said. “Might as well stay with the months. And in that kind of body, being called “May” might be a tad too suggestive.”

Stan nodded, waved his hands and said “Done!”

June was gorgeous. I mean, phenomenal. She must have been 5-7, long legs, and nice C or maybe D cup breasts. Just beautiful.

“If we’re going to have adventures, we have them as a couple,” she said, hugging me boobs to boobs. “That’s what couples do, right… Bitsy?”

“Right… April,” I said, laughing.

Bob, speaking for the first time, walked over, patted us both on the asses and said “Get out there, time is money you know!”

***
EPILOGUE

Life was anything but boring now. April and Bitsy, featured on a new Hooters poster locally, had been selected to pose for the national calendar.

Bob’s was the only Hooters in the country to have two waitresses selected, and business was booming because of it.

June and I worked a few shifts a week, always together. And after a little grumbling from Bob, we decided to keep our tips. We figured it would add up quickly to a nice little vacation fund.

And at home, when the kids were not around, we’d make love as Rick and June, as Rick and April, and as Bitsy and April.

It was never, ever boring.

So when Stan showed up asking me to write him a letter of recommendation to his sprite supervisors, I was more than happy to do so. He thought it might help him out of a few new “situations” he found himself in.

I don’t think his life was boring either.

QUITE A LOT OF SEX

Hi all - This is the first story I've submitted here. My others live at Fictionmania, but it was suggested to me that I should put them up here as well. If people enjoy this one, I'll bring the others over too, and post my new ones here as well. If people say "Lord no, keep that dreck away from here!" I'll slink quietly to my bed and cry in my pillow. :-)

It's a story about Wilbur Green, who desperately wants to be transformed into a huge boobed bimbo. Imagine his delight when he finds out there is indeed magic in the world and his dreams are possible! Imagine his distress when things don't go exactly as he planned!

Hope you enjoy!

----------------------------

Wilbur Green grabbed a hold of his guide's outstretched hand and pulled
himself up into the small cave entrance, just as the rocks beneath his
feet crumbled and dropped the one hundred feet into the rough waters
below.

"Uh, thugs re cha," Will spoke in his best Tibetan. "Thugs re cha."

His sherpa guide bowed in return, making Will feel a bit more confident
that he'd actually said thank you.

Each time Will had tried to get his guide's attention, though, he got a
strange look in return. Not so much yesterday, the first day of their
journey, but very much so this morning.

"Sa Mik Mar we... go.. now?" Will asked. He'd wanted to start calling
the guide by a shorter name, but didn't want to assume that "Sa" was what
he was supposed to use. So he kept using the whole thing.

He hoped he was pronouncing it correctly. Will never heard it
pronounced, it was just written for him on top of the itinerary, which he
picked up in the small Tibetan town from which he began.

The guide looked at him, confused, and smiled. Sitting in small cave on
the side of a mountain... on the way to something he's sought his whole
life... Will knew this was not time to take chances.

Will pulled out the piece of paper and read "Sa Mik Mar" and pointed at
the guide.

The guide smiled, unfolded the schedule Will had given him and said "Sa
Mik Mar" while pointing at the calendar for the day before.

"Sa Mik Mar," the guide said. "Tooos day."

"Great," Will thought. "I've been calling this guy a day of the week."

Whether it was the cold, the climb, the language barrier, or just the
total frustration of a fool's errand, Will sat down against the cave wall
and began to sob.

He felt his guide's hand on his shoulder, and looked up.

"Tuesday", or whatever his name was, was smiling.

"Here," the guide said, pointing to the back of the cave. "Here"

Will wiped his eyes and saw what he'd missed - a small entrance in the
back of the cave. The entrance was surrounded with ancient cave
paintings of gods and men interacting.

Will stood up, and clapped both his hands on Tuesday's shoulders. "Here!"
he shouted! "Here!"

Will reached into his pack for a small notebook, and then made his way
towards the small opening. He looked back at Tuesday, and held his hand
up to him as if to say "stay."

Tuesday nodded in agreement, although the look on his face told Will that
Tuesday wasn't too keen on proceeding even if he'd have been invited.

Will ducked his head and entered the small tunnel, which he could see was
less than 25 feet long. His heart was pounding in his chest, causing his
flashlight to shake as he saw the mouth of the next entrance in front of
him.

And as he drew closer, he could see that, somehow, the room itself seemed
to have its own source of light, which just could not be possible.

Sure enough, however, when he finally reached the entrance and stood
straight up, there it was - the statue of Nyima Mu, the Tibetan god of
the Sun. The statue, almost impossibly, seemed to give off its own
light, bathing the small cave room in an eerie glow.

Will's hands trembled as he pulled out his notebook, nervously flipping
through the words he'd reread thousands of time. Legend had it that the
person who finds the statue, and stands in its presence, is given one
wish in reward for his journey, and to prove the power of Nyima Mu.

He had told his friends and family nothing of this legend, because he
knew they'd laugh at him, but he had no choice but to speak of the legend
in looking for a guide in Tibet. And although many laughed at him, he
found some who believed it.

One man, a former guide who had studied in Europe for many years before
returning home, said that this legend was feared by most in Tibet, as the
wisher could bring great doom upon their people.

In fact, Will had to promise to use the wish only upon himself, and do
nothing which would harm his surroundings. He agreed easily, and was
given access to a guide.

And now that he stood in front of the statue, he felt for the first time
that his dream might finally come true. Will took a deep breath and
smiled. He could finally wish to be what he had always longed for, to be
transformed into a beautiful woman.

***

Will had read as much as he could on the legend of Nyima Mu, but there
was not much written. Still, he had seen what the supplicant must do in
order to have his wish granted.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cut diamond he'd
purchased and laid it upon the small stone altar. Then, dropping to one
knee, he read the words he'd so carefully crafted in his notebook.

"Oh great Nyima Mu, powerful as the sun and so great for providing warmth
for your people, I kneel before you now wishing for you to show mercy on
me and show me your great power. I, Wilbur Green, wish for the body of a
gorgeous woman. A living embodiment of sexual energy and desire. I have
deep respect for the ways of the Tibetan people, but I respectfully
request that this body look and speak as if born in America. With this,
I make my wish"

Will bowed his head, and pulled out a second offering of a diamond and
laid it at the foot of the altar.

When he pulled his hand from it, he felt a strong current of air enter
the cave, as the sand drew up and swirled around him. He held his eyes
tightly closed, as the sand was beating against his skin feeling like the
pricking of millions of needles. Still, even with his eyes closed, he
could sense that the room was full of light. The wind increased, and the
pain on his body from the beating sand increased.

Will felt himself changing. The sand continued to pound on him, but he
felt a heaviness growing on his chest, and at his bottom. He could feel
his growing ass pushing against the back of his bended knees, and grew
excited as his wish was finally, after all these years, coming true.

And then, suddenly, it stopped.

Will remained frozen for a moment. Scared to open his eyes, yet so
anxious to do so. His mind raced - should he feel his new breasts first?
Look at his new face? He'd remembered to pack a small travel mirror in
his jacket, and eyes closed, he reached in and got it.

He could hear himself breathing, labored and shaking. He pulled the
mirror up to his face, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes.

"I'm beautiful!" Will cooed, in a deeper voice than he'd imagined. In
fact, it sounded very much like his own voice. Which made good sense,
since the face he was looking at... was his. Dirty with sand, yes, but
his regular face nonetheless.

He stood up, confused. As he did so, he felt immense amounts of sand,
which had gotten into his shirt and pants during the sand storm, flow out
of his clothing.

With a huge sigh, he shook himself hard, watching the sand which he
thought had been his new feminine parts tumble back to the cave floor.

Both diamonds were gone, swept away, he assumed, and Nyima Mu's statute
was gone as well.

Legend stated that upon granting of a wish, the statue would again seek a
new place, never to be found by anyone who had wished upon it ever again.

Will continued to look at himself in the mirror, confused and saddened.

"Maybe," he said to himself, "Maybe the change takes time? The statue's
gone. The diamonds are gone. The wind... it... seemed to work."

Will was 35 years old, and had wished to be a sexual, big breasted woman
since his late teens. It had been almost 10 years ago that he began
seeking out ways to accomplish this through myths and legends that most
dismissed, and today was the first day any of his work had resulted in
him actually finding what he sought.

So he was not going to let himself be defeated that easily. He would
return to his hotel room, and await the changes. Or perhaps fly home and
do the same.

As he made his way through the short tunnel again, hoping that Tuesday
had not been scared off by the sand storm, he had convinced himself that
the changes were to come. That he'd done everything right and would soon
be rewarded.

When he reentered the main cave, however, and saw a naked, large boobed
blonde woman finger fucking herself to orgasm, he felt somehow less
confident.

***

"Who... are you?" Will chirped. But in his gut he had a sinking feeling
he knew the answer.

"Mmmmm, you can keep calling me Tuesday if you like," the girl said. "But
I'm hoping you'll want me every day of the week, not just one."

Will stood there, stunned, as Tuesday walked over to him, pulled down his
pants, and began to give him what would be the greatest, most awkward,
and frankly shortest blow job of his entire life.

As Tuesday lay naked on the stone cave floor afterwards, Will pulled up
his pants and didn't know what to say. He went over to his bag and
pulled out a second set of clothes and his spare jacket, and dressed
Tuesday herself, as she spent her time just feeling and groping her own
body.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean this to happen to you. It was
supposed to happen to me! Maybe we can find it again and..."

"Oh, don't bother," Tuesday said. "It was really wonderful. Mmmmm, the
sand was warm. Then it was hot. So hot.... And now I look like this,
and I still feel so hot. I know you wanted to be a woman like me, but I'd
have to say I'm glad you're not!"

"But your life, I didn't mean to mess it up like this... "

"Mess it up? I climbed these mountains for a living. Most of my friends
and family have been killed doing it. It's horrible work. And now... I
can come back to America with you.... And ...mmmmmm"

"Wait," Will said. "I can't take you back. I mean, we have to fix this."

Tuesday reached down on the ground and pulled out a US Passport with the
name Tuesday Brown on it.

"See? I'm a US Citizen... and your total sex slave! Come on, let's do
it right here in the cave."

Will was surprised that he did not have a stroke and drop dead right on
the site. Or maybe, he thought, he had. He'd spent years tracking the
legend of Nyima Mu... putting so much effort into something no one
believed. But he found it, and it was actually true. It could make a
man into a woman. And it did. Except, it made someone ELSE into one,
someone who now wanted to fuck his brains out. In the middle of a cave.
In Tibet .

"Surreal just doesn't cut it as a word to describe this," Will thought.

"Look, we need to get down from here Tuesday... do you remember how?"
Will said, trying to close the jacket around her big chest, even as her
hands were rubbing against the crotch of his pants.

"Mmmmm, I think so," she said. "Lots of stuff from my life before are
just fading away... but I think... I think I still know how to get us
back."

"Well then we better get going before you forget ok?" Will said.

Tuesday started to pout. Will could see her mind being rewritten with
every passing second.

"Um look, I promise to fuck you as many times as you want when we get
down, ok?"

"Yippie!" said Tuesday. "Let's go."

Will put on his jacket and his pack, and took one more furtive look back
towards the small cave room, which was now dark with the absence of the
never-to-be-found again statue of Nyima Mu.

He shook his head and followed Tuesday out of the cave.

***

Getting Tuesday back to his apartment in Silver Springs , Maryland was no
small feat. Each step required some sort of sexual payola for her. He
had to fuck her in an abandoned hut to get her to board a pontoon boat on
one leg, and had to let her give him a blow job in the bathroom of an
American Airlines flight from Chicago to Baltimore on the final leg.

He even had to let her give him a hand job in the cab on the way to his
apartment.

Will had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, in just the three
day trip home, he'd had more sex than he'd ever had in his life. But
part of him still ached to be on the other end of the equation. Tuesday,
for her part, was loving every moment of it, wanting nothing more than
constant sex with the man she now called Master.

"Please, just call me Will," Will whispered in the cab, hoping the cab
driver was not listening, nor had picked up on Tuesday's groaning in the
backseat as she made Will cum in his pants. "You have to stop that
Master stuff"

"Mmmmm, whatever you say, Master Will," Tuesday said loudly as they
pulled up to his apartment. No way the cabbie didn't hear that, Will
thought.

After exiting the cab, Will handed the driver $20 for the $19 fare,
realizing that it was the last of the cash he had on him.

"I wish I could give you a bigger tip," Will said weakly, hoping the
cabbie didn't notice the bulge and stain on his paints.

"Listen buddy, the only tip I want from you is how do I get one of those
for my own?" he said, nodding towards Tuesday.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Will said. The cabbie gave him
a "fuck you" glance and drove off.

"Is this where we live, Master?" Tuesday asked, even as she had stripped
naked and was squeezing and juggling her boobs to the gawks of the few
passersby on this late winter evening.

Will turned and saw her, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his
building.

"Sorority week," he said brightly to a pair of older women waiting for
the elevator inside.

"We'll get the next one," they said in unison, as Tuesday was pawing at
Will's crotch just as the elevator doors closed.

***

Having Tuesday in his apartment was quite the adjustment for Will. He
couldn't take her out, she wouldn't wear clothes for long. He'd given up
trying to get her to call him anything but Master, and instead had just
used that status to keep her in check.

But her mind was so addled by sex, only a few minutes after he
"commanded" her to wear clothing, she'd forget and get naked again.

After his Tibetan "vacation", Will had returned to his job as Associate
Vice President for Carlson Industries, as moderately successful paper
goods manufacturer. His job was just that - a job. He was paid
moderately well, but he and his fellow AVP's spent much of their time
complaining about how overpaid and underworked their boss was. Of
course, no one questioned why Bruce CARLSON had gotten the job.

Still, Will had one advantage in his position - since his boss didn't
really do much of anything, Will had plenty of time to continue his
search for the magic that would help him using his office computer.

Prior to Tibet he had done much of his work at home, but he found it
difficult to get much work at home done at all, what with the tremendous
amounts of sex he was having.

A few times he'd almost slipped and told his best friend, Martin Cohen,
about Tuesday. He wanted to tell someone. But he could never figure out
a way to do it without sounding like either a complete loon, a slave
trader, or a kidnapper.

He fed her, he gave her as much attention as he could, and she was happy.
For now, that had to be enough.

And when he finally got a line on an antique ring called the "Ring of
Reversal", he thought he might have the solution to both of his problems.

The ring, he had read, granted the exact opposite of the wisher's wish.
The stories of it were always told to point out how the greedy got their
comeuppance. It had become a mere tool of fiction writers in the last
twenty years, but he had seen enough references to it in the late 1800's
to believe it may have been real.

So when he received an e-mail from one of the many antique dealers around
the country he had searching for a "special" ring for him, his heart
leapt.

" Two rubies on the side," he read, "And two intertwined snakes on the
face. One in gold, one in silver. The gold snake had a silver head, and
the silver snake has a gold head..."

Will sat back and smiled, and then pumped his fist in the air.

"This is it. It has to be!"

The auction was over the weekend, at an estate sale in Georgia . All he
would have to do is fly down there, purchase it and...

And then he remembered Tuesday.

There was no way he could successful get her to behave long enough to
make the trip, and he didn't think the antique crowd was the kind of
place to understand a naked woman with her face buried in the crotch of
someone desperately trying to bid for an old ring.

He thought briefly of just leaving her for a few days, or maybe
purchasing a small cage... but he realized he could never do that to
someone.

The only way this would work was with some help, and the only person he
could think of was Martin.

He reluctantly e-mailed his friend, and they agreed to grab dinner that
night. Will had asked Martin to meet him at his place first. Now he had
the rest of the day to figure out what he was going to tell him.

***

When Martin arrived, Will was standing outside his apartment door waiting
for him.

"What are you doing out here, buddy," Martin said with a grin on his
face. "Haven't cleaned up in a few weeks? I could give a shit."

"No, it's not that," Will said. "It's something I brought back from Tibet
. I... haven't shown anyone yet. But I've been dying to. I need some
help with it."

Martin grinned, and rubbed his hands together. "You scored some Tibetan
weed? I've never heard of it, but if it's got you all freaked out it
must be some good shit. I'm game!"

Before Will could respond, they both heard a light tapping at the door,
coming from inside the apartment, along with a muffled female voice.

"Dude, you got someone in there?" Martin said. "Since when did you
become Mr. Stud?"

"Since Tibet ," Will said, opening the door to reveal the naked Tuesday,
her hands pulling at her erect nipples and smiling.

"Dude!" said Martin, as Will pushed him inside and closed the door.

"Martin, this is Tuesday. Tuesday this is Martin."

"Um... hi," said Martin, his face bright red.

"Are you Master's friend?" Tuesday asked.

"Master?" Martin said, looking at Will. Will just shrugged and put up
his hands.

"Um, yes, I'm his good good friend," Martin said.

"Then do you want to fuck me?" Tuesday cooed.

"Tuesday, go to the bedroom and um... I want you to cum 10 times before
you come back out, ok?" Will said.

"Oh, yes Master" she said, bounding back into the bedroom.

"Dude. What the FUCK is going on here? This is... totally awesome!"
Martin said, holding up his hand for a high five.

"No, it's not," Will said. "Martin, I'm in some trouble."

"Wait," said Martin, taking a step back. "You're not like on of those
sexual predators or whatever. This isn't some freaky Dateline NBC thing,
is it?"

"No," Will said. "Look, I ... I promise I'll explain everything to you in
a few days. The thing is, I've got to go out of town for a few days, and
I can't take her, and I can't leave her alone. I was wondering... would
you stay with her for the weekend? Please?"

Martin looked around the apartment, and then leaned into Will very
closely.

"I swear to God, if like Aston Kutcher pops out right now, I am not going
to be able to be your friend anymore," Martin whispered.

"It's no joke, Martin." Will said. "Just stay here with her this weekend.
I left $200 on the counter. Order in. Please don't try to go out. And
meet the delivery people outside the door like I met you it's... easier."

Martin crossed his arms. "So. You want me to stay here, in your
apartment, with this drop dead gorgeous naked girl, and order food all
weekend?"

"Yes," Will said. "And you'll probably have quite a lot of sex. Quite
more than you think you would want. Right now you don't think that's
possible. We'll see how you answer that on Sunday when I get back."

Before Martin could answer, Tuesday emerged from the bedroom, her hair
messed and her body gleaming in sweat. A huge smile on her face.

"Ten times?" Will asked?

"Um... eleven times," Tuesday giggled. "I lost count."

"Eleven times?" Martin asked Will.

"Eleven times," Will said flatly.

"But it was like two minutes? I mean..." Martin stopped what he was
saying, and hugged Will. "I love you man. You know that, right? I love
you!"

Will pushed him away. "That's a yes, I take it?"

"Hey, anything to help a friend," Martin grinned.

Will walked over to Tuesday, and took her hands. To Martin it looked
like almost a romantic gesture. But to Will it was the only way to keep
her hands off his cock for 10 seconds.

"Tuesday, honey, I have to go away for a few days. But my good good
friend Martin said he'll stay with you, ok?"

"Awwwww, you're going away? Why can't I go?" she whined.

"Well... because it's business for people who wear clothes, honey," he
said. Will had taken to talking to Tuesday as if she were about eight
years old. "But Martin will be here, and he thinks you're really really
sexy."

"Mmmmm, you do?" said Tuesday, fixing her hair. As if Martin had even
noticed her hair.

"Oh yeah, very very sexy," Martin said.

"Well.... Ok, if you say so Master!" Tuesday bounded over to Martin and
grabbed him by the hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. "Come on
Master's friend, let's have some fun."

Martin looked back at Will with a huge smile on his face, but a hint of
fear as well.

"Have fun," Will said. "I'll be back on Sunday."

***

Will was a bundle of nerves at the estate auction. He hadn't been to one
before, just seen them on TV. This seemed like more people than he'd
imagined. He was so shocked at how large the gathering was when he
arrived that he hatched a secondary plan: He would try to get a hold of
the ring here, under the guise of checking it out, and then make his
wish.

The only thing he couldn't figure out was how to word the wish so that
he'd be back at home, or how he'd get home. Being turned into a hot sexy
woman in the middle of an antique show might cause some major problems,
he thought.

The idea was moot anyway, when he saw the ring displayed in a sealed
glass case. It was beautiful. His hands were shaking just holding the
case.

"May I see that, please," said an oddly deep voice behind him.

Will's heart sank, as he put the case in the large meaty hand of a very
manly looking "woman".

"Oh, quite nice," she said, deeply. "Quite lovely."

The woman put the case down and moved on, but Will was in full panic
mode. He hadn't anticipated someone who knew about the ring too, but now
face to face with a cross-dresser, and not a very good one at that... he
was panicked.

Will had about $13,000 in his checking account, as was prepared to spend
as much as possible. The pre-auction estimate on the ring was $1,500 to
$2,000, but after seeing the cross-dress he knew that number would be
irrelevant. He'd hoped to save some in order to get him started on his
new life, but he realized that there won't be a new life unless he wins
the ring, so he decided to pay whatever it takes. And just hope that it
is enough.

It was two long hours of watching people bid on smoker's cabinets,
butter churns, paintings by artists he'd never heard of, and beaten up
looking collectible toys before the ring - lot number 216 - came up.

Will scanned the room and saw the "woman" staring back at him, smiling.

The bidding opened at $500 and quickly moved to $800, with the cross-
dresser and a few other bidders in the mix. Will sat silently, not
wanting to give away his interest to the others until he had to.

When the cross-dresser bid $950, and no one went to $960, Will raised his
card for the first time.

He and the cross-dresser went back and forth for a bit, with Will
wondering if he could go over his savings and use a credit card. He HAD
to have the ring. But he was sure "she" felt the same way.

Which is why he was shocked to hear, "Going one, going twice... sold" on
his bid for $1,100. He looked over to the cross-dresser and smiled, and
she smiled back. As she did so, a young girl bounced over to her and
grabbed her by the neck. "Mommmmmyyyy!" the girl said. "Are you having
fun?"

"Oh, so much fun, sweetie," the cross-dresser said. "I bought you some
lovely jewelry so far."

"Oh...yeah!" said the little girl.

Will laughed. This wasn't a cross-dresser after all. Just a very, VERY
homely looking woman. And by looking at her, the daughter was heading
towards the same fate.

Will felt guilty, but he had made an honest mistake. Still, as he
triumphantly wrote a check and received his prize, he couldn't help
thinking that it was probably a very good idea to buy that young girl as
much jewelry as possible.

***

Will did nothing but hold the case in his hand the entire flight home.
He didn't dare open it and touch it, for fear that he wouldn't be able to
contain himself from making his one wish. There was not a ton of
information about the Ring of Reversal, but the consensus seemed to be
that you held the ring, clearly state your wish beginning with "I wish"
and that's it.

"Just a few more minutes" he said out loud to no one in particular as he
road the elevator up to his apartment. "I'm getting this one right."

When Will opened his apartment door, he was greeted by the site of Martin
sprawled out on the floor with Tuesday on top of him, riding his cock for
all it was worth. She was holding both of Martin's hands tight to her
boobs, and moaning loudly.

Will couldn't tell if Martin was even awake.

"Master!" Tuesday shouted, and jumped off Martin, his cock making a loud
"pop" sound as it quickly pulled out of her wet pussy. "I missed you!"

Tuesday jumped into Will's arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and
starting nibbling on his ear. "I'm soooo happy you're home."

"Yes, me too," Will said, gently pushing her off. "Tuesday. Couch!" he
said firmly, as she dismounted him and walked to the couch and sat down
quietly.

"Martin... you still with us?" Will said.

Martin rolled over towards Will, without the energy to even consider
hiding his naked body from his friend.

"She.... Never... stops.." Martin said. "I slept like... two hours,
total. I think I.... blacked out a few times....It was.... It
was......AWESOME, DUDE!"

Martin sat up, and pulled a pillow over his crotch.

"You know, you can tell her things like SLEEP or COUCH or EAT and she'll
take a break," Will said laughing. "I probably should have told you
that, huh?"

"Wouldn't have used them my friend, wouldn't have used them," Martin
smiled in response.

Martin got up and walked towards the kitchen. His walk had the
unmistakable air of someone who'd be fucking for about 30 hours. Will
recognized it at once.

"I've walked like that," Will laughed. "It looks good on you."

Martin grabbed a box of Life cereal from the cabinet and started eating
it out of the box.

"Seriously, though man, what is her deal?" Martin said. "We talked
some... but not too much. And what she said... didn't make any sense."

Will frowned slightly. He had prepared a little speech to tell Martin,
but it seems that maybe Tuesday had already done it. In some ways,
however, he felt relief.

"What did she tell you?"

"Well... she said...she was your guide in Tibet ? She said you wished on
an ancient sun god and turned her into this, and then brought her back
here."

Will nodded. "Yeah, I know it's crazy, but it's also true."

Martin then spoke at bit more delicately. "She also said, and granted, I
know her elevator stops many many floors before the top... but she said
that you had actually wished that it was you who got changed into the
woman? But something went wrong?"

Will sighed.

"Dude, is that true?" Martin said. "Cause, you were always kind of a
ladies' man, you know? I mean, you want to be a chick?"

"I'm not... I'm not gay, Martin." Will said. "Or ... I don't know.
I've just always wanted to be in that kind of body. To be a big sexy
woman. To have that life. I'd do anything for it. And obviously, I've
tried."

Martin sat silently for a minute, crunching the cereal. Will was afraid
of what was coming next.

"Well... how come you didn't just do the surgery and stuff, buddy? Don't
people do that all the time?"

"You ever see what those women look like?" Will said. "Plus, even the
good looking ones... I mean, I can never be as hot and sexy as I wish for
Martin. And the longer I wait the harder it gets. Maybe if when I was
18 I did it... I don't know. But the fact is, yes, that's what I want.
And that's what I wished for in Tibet , and I fucked it up."

"Is that what was in Georgia ?" Martin asked. "You found something?"

Will nodded, and pulled the case from his carry on.

"It's called the Ring of Reversal."

Martin scooted over to get a better look.

"Looks old," he said, taking the case from Will.

"I think it is," Will said.

"How's it work?"

"Well, you make a wish, and it bounces back on you. So if I wished I was
really tall, I think I'd become really short. Or if I wish you got fired
from your job, then I'd get fired."

"Or I'd get a promotion?" Martin asked.

"Well...hmmm... maybe," Will said. "I don't know. But I've got my wish
all worded out, and I think I can make it work."

Martin stared at him. "You really gonna do this, huh?"

Will nodded.

"But, I need your help, Martin. Once I get changed... I'll be like
Tuesday. Would you ever... I mean, would you ever... take care of both
of us? I've tried to think of a way to get what I want and wish her back
in the same wish, but I can't do it. But I need to know she'd be ok."

Martin smiled. "So what are you going to wish?"

Will smiled. "I am going to wish that you get turned into a big boobed
sex hungry young woman, Martin."

Martin's eyes grew wide.

"You better be fucking sure this is a Ring of REVERSAL then" he said.

Martin opened the case to look more closely at the ring.

"Don't touch it!" Will screamed.

"I'm not touching it, believe me," Martin said. "Just getting a look at
it. Martin then set it down on the table, careful not to touch the ring.

"You sure about this reversal thing, Will?" Martin asked.

"Yeah," said Will.

"Ok then," Martin smiled, looking over at Tuesday. I mean, it's weird
cause you're my friend, but I'd love to have two big boobed slaves that
look like her!"

There was a sudden, blinding flash of light in the room, followed by a
large popping sound.

When Will opened his eyes, he saw Tuesday sitting where Martin once
was... but Tuesday also sitting on the couch.

"Oh, COME ON!" Will screamed. "HE DIDN'T TOUCH IT! HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY "I
WISH"! COME ON!"

"Stop screaming, Master," said the transformed Martin. "I really like
this. And I'd really really like to show you my appreciation!"

As the transformed Martin started moving towards Will, Will started
backing up.

"Hey, no fair without me!" said Tuesday, popping up off the couch and
heading over towards them.

"Hey... you look like me!" said Tuesday. "I'm Tuesday!"

"Um... then I'm Wednesday!" said the old Martin.

"Hee hee" they said in unison, as Wednesday kicked off Martin's clothing.

"You have got to be kidding me," said Will, before being dragged by the
twins to his bedroom for a night of amazing sex.

As they entered the bedroom, the Ring of Reversal vanished, leaving only
the empty case.

***

The next two weeks were exhausting for Will. At one point, he'd given up
and went to an adult superstore right outside of town. He was
embarrassed to enter, and horrified when he got inside. Still, he felt
he had to do it.

He had never been dildo shopping before, but if he didn't pick something
up soon, he was going to have a crisis on his hands at home. Plus, he
was really fond of having a banana in the morning for his breakfast. And
ever since he got back from Tibet , any bananas he'd purchase from the
market... well, he just wasn't that interested in eating them.

The guy behind the register was creepy, but Will figured it went with the
territory. He was smart enough NOT to pay with a credit card, and took
his purchases to the front.

As he put the assortment of sex toys on the counter, the clerk looked at
him and smiled.

"If you need someone to use these on you, son," the clerk said. "We gots
a list in the back."

"Uh, no thanks," said Will, leaving a $50 dollar bill for $42 worth of
merchandise and quickly leaving the store.

As he drove away, though, Will wondered if when he finally goes get
transformed, would he consider going back to that store to find some
"fun"? He sure hoped not. That guy gave him the creeps.

His bigger issue was work. Because of his long night at home with
Tuesday and Wednesday, Will was a zombie at work most days. And he was
more dedicated than ever find a way to be transformed. Now having found
two ways, and messed both of them up, he at least knew for certain that
there was magic in the world.

But there clearly was no magic at Carlson Industries.

Will knew he deserved it, because he had been slacking off, but being
reprimanded by Bruce Carlson still rubbed him the wrong way. This guy
might be his boss, but he had no right to complain about anyone not
working hard.

Still, as a result of reduced performance, Will was forced to log his
daily activities more closely... a task usually done only by the
company's junior employees.

Will complied without a peep. The fact was, he needed his job more than
ever. Keeping Tuesday and Wednesday stocked with food and sex toys was
eating up most of his monthly expenses, and between the cost of the tip
to Tibet and purchasing the Ring of Reversal, he'd taken a bite out of
his savings.

So most of his time searching for new artifacts was at work after hours.
Tuesday and Wednesday did not like that, making them extra horny each
night when he returned, thus keeping him up even later.... And thus the
cycle continued.

Ordinary, Will was very careful about which websites he would visit at
the office, and even what searches he would run. He had heard many times
that deleted files can be recovered, and the last thing he wanted was to
be caught doing this. He'd be fired for sure.

But he had little choice. The first few weeks, he went to a few sites,
but after about a month he had thrown caution to the wind. The only
problem he had was that some of the pop ups he was getting were quite
graphic, and the spam in his mailbox was perverted.

But he rearranged his desk slightly so that his monitor was not visible
from his office door, and that was as good as he could do.

He almost deleted the e-mail without reading it.

He got so many each night asking if he "wanted a bigger penis", he almost
didn't read the one asking if he "wanted a big change".

But having hit a brick wall in some reports of a dark magic spell he'd
heard rumored, he opened it on a whim.

He was instantly glad that he did.

"Dear Ron - Do you seek a change in your life? Work got you down? Can't
attract women with that scrawny body? What would you give if you could
change it all? For just $299, you can use the PC Changer, the first
automated computer program which will rearrange your life, or the life of
anyone you wish, in any way you see fit.

How can we offer such and amazing deal for just $299? Because we want
YOU to be happy, Ron, and we're such nice guys.

Just click here to see testimonials of those who have bought the program,
and click here to buy it for yourself!

Act soon, as this offer expires in three days!"

"Probably a crock of shit," Will thought. And who is this Ron? But
considering what he'd seen the past few months, he could not just dismiss
it. The only instances of a program like this he'd ever come across were
in fictional stories, but maybe, he hoped, there was some truth to them.

He stayed until nearly midnight reading the testimonials. Guys who
wished themselves wealthy. Guys who gave themselves big muscular bodies.
Guys who got promotions, or hot women to fall in love with them. Guys
who wished their wives had bigger tits.

There were, of course, no ways to contact any of the people making the
testimonials. And Will had read enough for the night. He felt grateful
that neither Tuesday nor Wednesday could quite figure out how to use the
phone anymore, or they'd be calling him non stop.

He closed the offer and shut down his computer. He had been a long day,
and maybe a little sex would relax him.

He knew he wouldn't find out, as he was on his way to having, as usual,
quite a lot of sex.

***

The next day was a disaster. He was forty-five minutes late for work,
when his morning shower turned into a three-way fuck fest, and neither
Tuesday nor Wednesday would let him leave until he watched them cum using
their new two-headed dildo.

They had broken the first five two-headed dildos he had purchased, and he
was glad to see this one holding up to the wear and tear, but still he
didn't like being late for work.

But that was just the start of things.

When he arrived he was immediately called into Bruce Carlson's office.
It had turned out that Will had somehow infected the office e-mail system
with a virus that was corrupting everyone's address books.

The tech department had confirmed that it came from Will's computer, and
they would be up later in the day to check out his system and hard drive
themselves.

"It wasn't intentional, Bruce," Will said. "These things happen. I'm
sorry but it's not my fault."

"Maybe," sneered Bruce, "But I've told them to block internet access on
your log in for a while. Internet access is a privilege, not a right.
And you've lost the privilege."

Will was steaming. "It's not a privilege, I need it for work, Bruce!
That's one of my sources for getting pricing, and watching the market
each day. What am I supposed to do about that?"

Bruce really didn't know what Will did for his job. He honestly didn't
know, or care, what most people did. He just knew he didn't like it when
he heard from the board of directors that there was a problem, so he
decided to act "like a boss."

"If you can't do your job, maybe we should get someone in here who can,"
said Bruce full of bluster.

Will thought of talking back, but instead just left and returned to his
office. He was angry at Bruce, but much more at himself. "The guy's an
idiot," Will thought. "But he's also mostly right. I did it. It came
from my e-mail, and it was done looking at non-business related stuff."

Will knew he had a few hours to clean up his computer the best he could,
and hoped that he wouldn't be found out. He pulled all his research text
files onto a flash drive, and then started going through his email.

That's when he remembered the PC Changer.

"What do I have to lose?" he thought.

He opened the link and paid the fee with his credit card. In only a few
minutes, he was staring at the start up screen for PC Changer.

The whole program was based on a questionnaire, so Will began filling it
out.

YOUR NAME: Will Green
IS THIS CHANGE AT HOME OR OFFICE: Office
YOUR BOSSES NAME: Bruce Carlson
YOUR TITLE: Associate Vice President
YOUR AGE: 35
GENDER: M
HEIGHT: 5-9
WEIGHT: 180
HAIR: Black
EYES: Brown
GLASSES: No
IQ (estimate if don't know): 120

IDEAL BODY M OR F: F
AGE: 19
HEIGHT: 5-2
WEIGHT: 110
HAIR: Blonde
EYES: Blue
CHEST CUP (up to GG): GG
PERSONALITY (angel, normal, sexy, slutty): SLUTTY
IQ: 90
OCCUPATION (pick one or "don't care"): Don't care

TYPE OF CHANGE REQUIRED (CHOOSE ONE):
BODY ONLY: No
MIND ONLY: No
REALITY, OTHERS, ONLY: No
REALITY, YOU, ONLY: No
PICK UP TO THREE: Body, Mind, Reality

HIT ENTER TO EXECUTE, OR HIT SAVE TO RETURN LATER.

Will sat there, looking at the cursor. He clicked on "reality, others"
and a pop up box opened up that said that all reality would be altered to
match the changes, and that the person transformed would have existed
since birth, the old person would not have. Everyone but the person
running the program would accept the new reality.

He smiled. This would be great. If he, Will, had never existed... then
he wouldn't have gone to Tibet . Tuesday would be back home, as would
Wednesday. Each of the other options also had pop up boxes, but he did
not have time to do them, as he saw the tech person in Bruce's office at
the moment.

"Why not?" Will thought, and hit "execute"

His screen went bright blue, followed by bright pink. This, he thought,
was an encouraging color.

An hourglass appeared on the screen, with a small dialog box saying
"Processing", but Will could see nothing happening to him.

He nearly leapt out of his chair when his intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Green, will you come in here, please?" Bruce's voice boomed.

Will tried escaping from the program, but they keyboard had no effect.
He tried holding the PC power button down, but it did not power off.

"As soon as possible, Mr. Green," Bruce's voice boomed again.

Flustered, Will turned off his monitor, so at least the bright pink
screen wouldn't be visible, and walked to Bruce's office.

As he arrived, Bruce brushed past him with a scrowl, saying "I'll leave
you two alone" and closed the door behind him.

Will sat down at the small conference table, where Rita Brennan from the
personnel department had a file open.

"Mr. Green, as you know we have a problem," she said.

"Oh, God," Will thought, "I'm going to get fired."

"Look, Ms. Brennan," Will said. "I don't think it is that big of a deal.
It was an accident and it won't happen again."

Rita sat back in her chair, and stared at him, a frown on her face.

"Mr. Green," she said. "I think perhaps you are not realizing the
severity of this. And it is not, an isolated incident."

Will felt a warm flush over his body, and felt unsettled for a moment,
but it quickly passed.

"Look, Rita? May I call you Rita?," Will said. "Just because someone is
related to the founders of the company, I don't think it is fair for them
to be able to harass people like this...the whole thing.."

Rita cut him off. "I quite agree, Mr. Green." She passed him a sheet of
paper.

"These are all the recorded offenses in the past 45 days, alone," she
said. "Our security cameras have caught a constant stream of
inappropriate behavior, some of which has been reported, some of which
has not. For goodness sake, sex with custodians?"

Will leaned in closer. "Come again? Sex with... what are you talking
about?"

"Exactly, Sir." She said. It's best if we keep you out of this. We have
asked Ms. Carlson to clean out her desk. She has been fired. And her
family has told her she is no longer welcome back, this was her final
chance. If I may say... the woman... is a slut."

Will's head was reeling.

"Oh wait... oh, not again." He said, grabbing his hair with his hands.

"Not again, what, Sir?" Rita said, but without even answering, Will
escorted her out of the office and thanked her for her time.

He looked all around the office. It now had Will's pictures on the wall.
Will's diplomas. And a name plate which said, "Will Green - President."

Bruce Carlson came bouncing into the room. Or at least what WAS Bruce
Carlson. And by the size of his tits, "bouncing" was his only mode of
transportation.

"Oh, Mr. Green... please. I'm like so so sorry. Don't fire me, I got no
where to go!"

Will stared at his former boss, speechless.

"Uh, just to humor me... what is your name?"

The girl giggled. "I'm Bryce Carlson, silly. You know that!"

"Um, Bryce... sit here and stay here, ok? I'll be right back."

Will ran out to his former office, but found someone else sitting there.
He then looked over to where "Bryce" had come from, a secretarial cube,
and saw his old computer sitting there.

Hesitantly, he turned on the monitor.

"TRANSFER COMPLETE:

OFFICE TRANSFORMATION EXECUTED, NEW REALITY FOR ALL BUT (Will Green).
FORMER BOSS (Bruce Carlson) TRANSFORMED TO IDEAL FORM TO FACILITATE
PROMOTION.

CLICK HERE TO ACCEPT, CLICK HERE IF UNRESOLVED ISSUES

"Unresolved issues?" Will hissed. "That was supposed to be me! I didn't
just want a stupid promotion!"

Will clicked on "unresolved issues" and followed the prompts:

PLEASE ACCEPT OR REJECT EACH CHANGE MADE:

BRUCE CARLSON TRANSFORMATION: Reject

REASON (text only please): I didn't want him kicked out of his family! I
didn't want his job! I was supposed to have the ideal body!

The pink screen briefly returned, but "PROCESSING" was quickly replaced
by "TRANSFER COMPLETE."

This time, however, the screen returned to his Windows Desktop, and the
PC Changer program was nowhere to be found. Will looked down, and he was
unchanged.

He returned to his office to see Bryce sitting at the conference table,
as if nothing had happened.

"Bryce?" Will asked.

"Um, sorry. You got me confused. I'm Bunny Boobies." The girl cooed.

"Oh, of course you are," said Will.

"You are like... OMG hot," Bunny said. "Like... your body is like... it's
like... ummm..."

"Wait, let me guess," Will said, dejectedly. "It's 'ideal'?"

"Ohhh, big word, yah," said Bunny. "Mostly, I just want to fuck you."

Will went to close his office door, before a co-worker named Brain
Chestler stopped in.

"Hey man, I just wanted to say congratulations," Brain said, shaking
Will's hand. "I mean, you deserved it. When old man Rogers retired, we
knew the board would hire you."

Brian noticed the hot woman sitting at Will's conference table, slowly
unbuttoning her blouse.

"Um... holy shit, Will! Who's she?"

"Uh, she was here for an interview. Look, thanks but I gotta go."

"Yeah, you go!" said Brian, as Will closed the door on him.

"Bunny, huh?" Will said. "Do you have a driver's license or anything?"

"Um... no," she said, taking off her blouse.

"Any credit cards?"

"Um... no," slipping out of her high heels.

"Do you have a place to live?"

"Um... no," she said, unhooking her bra and letting her gigantic tits
free to wobble on her chest.

"Do you remember anything about who you are?" he asked, desperately.

"Um... yeah, I'm Bunny, and I totally want to fuck you... Mr. President!"

Will sighed, closed the shades on his new office windows, and let Bunny
have her way with him.

***

The first few weeks with Bunny were difficult for Will. First off, his
tiny apartment really wasn't big enough for four people, and second of
all, the amount of sex needed by Bunny, Tuesday and Wednesday was off the
charts.

Bunny seemed to fit in well with the other girls, though. She had the
largest breasts of the three of them, and Tuesday and Wednesday seemed to
enjoy playing with them.

Feeding them became an issue as well. Will had no time to cook for them,
as they really wouldn't allow it anyway. So he took to getting food in
bulk at the price club. Large bags of cheetoes, giant boxes of crackers,
huge jars of pickles... whatever he could find.

The girls didn't care, and just ate for energy.

For his part, Will began taking several multi-vitamins a day to try to
keep up. He was fortunate that now in Bruce's old job, he had a lot more
time and flexibility at work.

And the extra money helped too.

He spent hours and hours at work trying to find another way to be
transformed. He had heard of a native American warrior spell when he
first started his quest, and he focused most of his energies following
that path.

It finally paid some dividends, when he found reference to it in a book
on the "great spirit". Legend has it that when the members of a tribe
were down in numbers, and needed someone to defend it, they could join
together and transform someone who is willing intp their champion. Only
the will of the gathered and the willingness of the one can accomplish
the feat.

Will was frustrated by the vagueness of the description of the ceremony,
but its one paragraph description did seem to provide him with the way.

"The hopi would take a talisman of another great warrior, and the
"chosen" would hold it. The tribe would encircle him and chant for what
it wished. If their collective will was strong enough, the "great
spirit" would pull the essence from the talisman and grant their
requests. Each tribe could make this request only in its darkest hour,
and then only one time in its history."

Will thought this posed many issues, the first of which was... who
carries talismans these days? Second, where would get a "tribe" who
wished for what he did?

Later that night, while Tuesday was sucking his cock and he was sucking
on Bunny's tits and finger fucking Wednesday to a screaming orgasm, it
hit him... Balder University.

Balder University was just a few miles from his office, and known locally
for its active fraternity system. Certainly, a fraternity full of horny
college kids would be interested in what he wanted.

Actually, he knew almost at once, they wouldn't. Would a group of 20 year
old men want to listen to a 35 year old man who says he wants them to
turn him into a girl? Will realized that he needed another tact. He
needed to speak their language.

And when Bunny sat on his face as he licked her orgasm, he knew just what
that language was.

***

Will had a pounding headache as he drove up to Balder's Fraternity Row.
He had done some research and determined that the Beta Theta Pi house was
the one which most often got into trouble at Balder. Just what he was
looking for.

But his headache had nothing to do with research. It had to do with
getting Tuesday, Wednesday and Bunny to wear the bathrobes he'd laid out
for them, and keep them on in the car for the 15 minute ride.

It was the first time he'd taken the three of them out of the house, and
it was a nightmare.
Twenty seconds into the trip, all three robes were off, and the girls
were masturbating each other in the back seat and begging Will to pull
over and fuck them.

He tried threatening to "turn this car around" as his father once did,
but all that did was make them excited about the idea of going home and
fucking.

So by the time the arrived at the Beta house, he was exhausted.

"Listen girls, if you will put those robes on for 10 minutes, I promise
when we get home I'll stay up all night with you, ok? And I'll even go
into work a bit late tomorrow. Is that a deal?" he begged.

"Clothes are stinky!" Bunny whined.

"I love being naked!" Tuesday and Wednesday said in unison.

"Fine, fine... I ... um... know they are stinky. And I know naked is
better. But 10 minutes, ok? Please?"

"Ok, Master," said Tuesday. "It's a deal. But first you got to do
something for us, ok? Pleeeease?"

Will nodded and got out of the car. The backseat was tight, but he laid
down on the seat and let the three of them share in a blow job, each
taking turns until he exploded in Wednesdays mouth. He zipped up as he
watched the three of them kissing deeply to share in their "reward."

His knees a little wobbly, from the experience, Will got out of the car,
and walked towards the front door with his temporarily robbed girls.

"HEY, MARK, DID YOU ORDER ANY STRIPPERS?" Colin Hart screamed after
opening to door to see Will and the girls.

"NOT THAT I REMEMBER... BUT MAYBE!" screamed a voice from somewhere
inside the house in response.

"Excuse me, no one ordered these girls," Will said. "My name is Will,
and if you'd let me come in, I have a proposal for you that I think
you'll like."

Colin looked over the three girls, wiped his floppy blonde hair out of
his face, and noticed each of the tugging on the robe they were wearing.
He noticed that Bunny's was barley containing her giant tits.

He couldn't move out of the door way fast enough to let them in.

When the frat brothers had gathered in the common room, Will tried to
explain his proposal. But all eyes were on the girls, each of whom kept
tugging on their robes as if they were radioactive. Will explained about
the Hopi Indians, he explained about the Great Spirit, and he explained
about the tribe who needs a new warrior.

Finally, out of frustration, he turned and said "10 minutes are up".

The girls gleefully took off their robes, began rubbing against each
other.

Will shouted "DO YOU GUYS WANT ONE OF THESE FOR YOUR OWN? THEN LISTEN TO
ME!"

Will instructed the girls to put their robes back on, and they did so,
begrudgingly, murmuring "yes Master" as they did so. He instructed them
to go back to the car and wait, and to the chagrin of the gathered frat
boys.

"Hi, I'm Mark Floyd, chapter president," said the young man who took
Will's hand and shook it. "You're telling me, we could get one of those?
Do we have a choice? Because I think we'd take the one with the giant
boobs. The others look like twins, and we'd hate to break up your set."

Will laughed.

"No, no, Mark," Will said. "You'd get your very own, designed to whatever
specifications you all want. All I'd need from you is that you track
down something from a girl you all lust for, and then get everyone to
focus on what you want when I perform a little ceremony... and that's
it."

Will didn't see any reason to tell them that it would be he that is
turned into this woman, nor that they'd also end up inheriting the three
other girls too. Because if he had, they might have gotten freaked out
about having a former man, or worse, said that three is enough and just
tried to take Tuesday, Wednesday, and Bunny.

"Well, why waste time?" Mark said. "I don't have to conference with my
housemates, we'd want one like the big titted one."

Will suddenly felt nervous. They were going to do this now? He tried to
contain his excitement, especially considering how his luck had been
running. But he took a deep breath and said "sounds good to me."

Will told Mark that they needed to clear out the room, and draw a small
circle on the floor, and then a larger circle around it. Will could tell
that Mark probably thought a lot of this was bullshit, but he also could
tell that Mark saw the three huge boobed girls being escorted back in
from the car by Colin. The robes obviously were left in the car.

"Colin, get one of the hairs off the head of the big titted one, will
ya?" yelled Mark.

"They're all big titted, Mark," responded Colin.

"The REALLY big titted one," Mark said, shaking his head.

"Pledges," he said to Will, smiling.

As the frat boys cleared the room, Will laughed watching Colin try to get
one of Bunny's hairs, while Tuesday and Wednesday were rubbing their
bodies up against his. Will was glad to see someone else in the line of
fire, and for a moment grew excited thinking he could soon join them all
in making a real man out of Colin.

Within five minutes the room was cleared, and two pledges had painted a
small red circle in the center of the room, and a larger one filling up
the rest of the room.

"You could have just put down tape or something," Will said to Mark. "I
didn't mean for you to wreck your floor."

"You've never lived in a fraternity, have you?" said Mark with a laugh.

With the circles drawn and Colin handing Will the hair, there was no
reason for further delay.

The frat brothers were certainly revved up, not only by the thought of
what was to come, but by the three gorgeous naked women milling around
their house.

Will was panicked a bit. He didn't want to mess this up. Still, after
making the girls promise to stay out of the room (he didn't want their
thoughts mingling with those of the frat boys), he strode into the
circle, and held the hair high above his head.

"Now, I want each of you to think about what you most desire. You need
to start chanting it. Can you do that?" Will said.

Will took a deep breath, as the chant of "sex, sex, SEX, SEX" grew louder
around him.

With no script to use, he remembered the paragraph, and the words he had
prepared to say.

"Oh Great Spirit, we beg of you to show your mercy. This tribe needs a
new champion. I hold here the ...talisman, I guess, of that which they
most desire. Take its essence, oh Great Spirit, and give them what they
desire. Give them the champion they call for. Heed us, Great Spirit!"

Will felt momentarily ridiculous, until the whole house started to shake.
He looked up at his hand, holding the hair aloft, and noticed it was
glowing. He smiled. The glow flowed like oil, moving down his arm and
slowly covering his body. He was giving off a light, and the chants of
"Sex, Sex, SEX, SEX" grew louder and louder... and higher and higher.

Will was frozen in place, unable to move, as the substance encased him.
When it went over his face, he was unable to speak... but he could see
just fine. He watched in horror as one by one, each of the frat boys in
the circle turned into woman. Some looked nearly identical to Bunny.
Some had different hair color, a few were shorter, many had breasts that
were more the size of Tuesday and Wednesday.

The last two transform were Mark and Colin. He could see the look of
fear on Mark's face as the changes moved around the circle towards him.
Will guessed that they too were unable to move. And as Mark changed into
what looked like Bunny's younger, smaller boobed sister, his look of
panic turned into one of lust... for Will.

Colin mouthed the word 'sorry' just as he was transformed, and with that
the house shook furiously and Will fell hard to the floor, as did each of
the now transformed fraternity brothers.

"What did you do?" Will demanded of the transformed Colin. Will could
see Colin's brain being rewritten as they spoke, but luckily Colin had
enough of the old him left to croak out a response in his now unfamiliar
voice.

"I ... uh... the girls were like... doing stuff to me," she said. "I ..
never done that before and I couldn't, you know....get a hair? So I
just, I just ... took one of mine and figured you wouldn't notice you
know? I'm so sorry.... But like... you can fuck me really really hard if
that makes you feel better! I know it would totally make me feel
better!"

Will, felt sick. He got to his feet as about 20 hot, naked, young women
started moving towards him, with lust in their eyes. "You're our
champion! Please fuck us" some shouted. "I love you," came from others.
"My titties are nice and big" from one red headed vixen.

As Will was fending off what could only really now be called his harem,
he figured out that the Great Spirit did as he asked. Took the male
essence of Colin, and since Will was already male, the only way the men
could get the sex with the woman they desired was for them to actually
become it themselves. The great spirit delivered, making Will their
champion.

"I hate the Great Spirit," said Will, his voice muffled as his head was
pulled between a pair of massive tits.

Hearing all the commotion, Tuesday, Wednesday and Bunny returned to the
room, and joined in the fun.

Will knew he had a whole new problem now. Reality didn't get altered
like it did with Bunny. People were going to miss a whole fraternity of
college students. But he couldn't fit twenty or so people in his car,
either.

He tried talking to the new girls to see if they knew anything that could
help, but they were too far gone at this point, simply wanting to fuck
and suck their "champion" as much as they good.

Will managed to escape the room for a moment, however, and noticed as U-
Haul parked in the back driveway. It was early in the semester, and
obviously one of these "boys" was moving in stuff from home.

And while he imagined U-Hauls had been used for many things in their
lifetimes, as he herded 19 busty naked bimbos who used to be fraternity
boys (he counted) into the back of the U-Haul, he imagined that this
might be a first.

And rather than deal with issues on the ride back, he put Tuesday,
Wednesday and Bunny in the back too.

He had no idea how his apartment was going to hold all of these girls,
but it was all he could think of. He'd have to come back and get his car
later.

And he didn't doubt for a moment that he'd never be able to invoke the
Great Spirit again, either. That was just his luck.

***

Will took the next week off from work. He made daily trips to the price
club to get food, and spent the rest of the time in an endless orgy of
sex with 22 large breasted women who considered him their master.

The girls took turn sleeping on the bed, the couch, and the floor. They
didn't all sleep at once, so no matter the hour, someone was having sex
with someone or someones else. And anytime Will was awake, the girls
made sure he was part of it.

At one point he tried to figure out all the new girls' names... but to no
avail. None of them seemed to remember their lives as boys, and they all
seemed to have named themselves.

He felt horrible at what had happened to them, and incredibly jealous and
envious at the same time. He was incredibly turned on by seeing them,
and he had been having more sex than any man on the face of the planet,
but he also wished more than anything he could just trade places with any
one of them.

In short he was cranky, tired, and sore.

And even more motivated to find some way to make things right, and get
what he wanted.

But the reason he took the week off was that he had to find a new place
to live. They couldn't keep on living in his little one bedroom
apartment.

He also knew that he'd have a tough time moving the group to another
building, as it would obviously draw quite a bit of attention.

So instead he found that a two-bedroom apartment in his building was
available, and decided to make the move.

Moving was a pain in the ass, of course.

He had to move all his stuff by himself. He couldn't take the chance on
movers, and he couldn't use the girls. He needed them for the furniture,
though, but he did so in the middle of the night.

If there were any light sleepers in the building, they would have seen
quite the show had they looked out their peepholes.

He ordered two sleeper sofas online, but because he'd already moved the
girls to the new apartment, he had to have them delivered to his old
apartment, and then dragged them to the new one.

At least in this new space, he had enough room for everyone to have
access to a bed, pullout or sofa... at least for the few hours a day each
of them were not trying to suck Will's dick or get him to fuck them.

***

The worst part for Will was that he had exhausted all the avenues of
research he'd compiled over the years. The irony that they ALL worked,
but none of them worked on HIM, was not lost on him.

But even with his greatest leads exhausted, the fact that he now was
certain that true magic did exist made him more likely to chase what he'd
previously thought of as flights of fantasy.

Which is why he only felt a little silly traipsing through the woods in
some backwater part of Massachusetts which intersected with a section of
the Appalachian Trail . Silly, because he was doing it because of rumors
of a witch that lived in these woods and enchanted hikers who were trying
to complete the trial walk. It sounded a lot like the Loch Ness monster
to him, but after what he'd seen in recent weeks, he couldn't discount
anything.

He left Tuesday in charge of the girls. He didn't know if that would do
any good, but he had left jumbo size bags of Doritos and breakfast
cereals, as well as gallons and gallons of juice, and hoped that would
work. They all seemed resistant to even the sniffles, so he didn't think
it mattered too much what they ate. He started to understand what it
must be like to work at the zoo and be in charge of the monkey cages - if
the monkey cages were full of giant boobed sex maniacs.

When Will stumbled upon the small hut in the middle of the woods, with
smoke puffing out of a small chimney, he felt that either he'd found his
target, or that Hansel and Gretel would be showing up any minute now.

Will steeled himself, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. The
worst part for him was that he had a strategy... but he hated it.

The door opened a sliver, and a nervous looking man peered out.

"What do you want?" he said, nervously.

Will shrugged. "I demand to see the witch," he said with as much false
bravado as he could muster.

The door opener's eyes widened.

"There's... there's no witch here! Be on your way!"

As he began to close the door, the door opener whispered, "Run as fast as
you can!"

Will knocked again.

"You're still here?" whispered the man, opening the door a bit wider this
time. "Run away, you have no idea..."

The door swung open, revealing a surprisingly lavishly decorated room,
and a tall, thin strikingly pretty woman with straight black hair.

"Adrian! Shoo, go fix dinner!" she hissed. "Leave us be!"

Will braced himself again, and tried to play the part of a pompous ass.

"What is this, some bad fairy tale?" he said. "I suppose I should be
thankful that you don't have a crooked nose with a wart on it."

Just as the words crossed his lips, her figure shimmered and she turned
into a duplicate of the wicked witch from Snow White.

Before Will could even say anything, she reached behind her back and
offered him an apple.

He tried to contain himself, but he couldn't. He tried to keep the cool,
hard look of a tough guy. But he couldn't. He started to laugh. And he
couldn't stop.

Adrian stared at him from horror in the back of the room. The witch, for
her part, just stared at him, although a small smile seemed to appear in
the corners of her mouth.

"What brings you here?" she said.

"You don't know?" Will said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Can't read
minds? I want... I demand... that you grant me a wish."

"You don't strike me as the demanding type," she said, looking at him
curiously. "I will humor you. What is it you seek?"

Will steeled himself, reciting the words from his carefully prepared
text.

"I wish to have a huge breasted, dumb bimbo of my own. Be able to
manipulate her body whenever I wish, without resistance. She will think
of nothing but sex."

The witch stared at him, a small smirk crossing her lips.

"That is what you wish? Exactly that?" she said.

"Yes," Will said, as strongly as possible. "Give me what I deserve."

Her eyes grew wide at that part, and Will had a glimmer that this might
well work.

"Yes, yes," she sneered. "I think I will give you EXACTLY what you have
asked for, and EXACTLY what you deserve."

It took all of Will's efforts to contain a smile.

The witch began to chant under her breath. The wind in the woods picked
up, and Will felt a chill go through him. Her chanting grew louder,
drowning out the wind, and her eyes turned bright green.

"INACTO!" she shrieked and Will braced himself... but the wind suddenly
died down, and it was over.

He looked at her, a perplexed look in his eyes. But before he could say
anything, she stepped to one side, and where Adrian was once standing,
now stood a naked, curly blonde haired woman with impossibly huge breasts
and a look of utter lust in her eyes.

"Come to your new master, GIRL" sneered the witch, and the transformed
Adrian approached Will hungrily and began rubbing up against his crotch.

Will was speechless.

"Her name is Adrianne now," the witch said. "And she is yours."

Will just stared.

"Well?" the witch said.

"Um.... Thank you?" said Will, utterly defeated.

"Yes, yes, you caught me on a good day," said the witch. "Plus, this one
has been in my service for almost two years, and frankly has been getting
on my nerves of late. I'll take a new slave from the hikers. I'm glad
to be done with him."

The witch pushed the new couple out the door, and began to close it
behind them.

"Neither of you will ever see this house again, so do not seek it," she
said.

Will started to say something, but the witch cut him off.

"Despite your attitude, I can tell you are a good person," she said,
almost softly. "You are lucky that I could sense that. Your wish was
worded quite poorly. I could have also granted your wish by turning YOU
into the large breasted bimbo. You should be more careful in the future.
Good day to you."

And with that, she slammed the door shut, and Will stared forward at the
large trees where the hut stood just a second before. And as he stood
there, he noticed that Adrianne had already unzipped his pants, and was
taking his cock deep into her new female mouth.

***

The two months after Adrianne joined the group were tough ones for Will.

He was taking several multivitamins each day to try to keep up with the
girls' needs, but it wasn't enough. Still, he noticed that his sexual
prowess had increased to an amazing degree. Out of necessity, he'd
learned to bring women to orgasm through several methods in a very short
period of time.

Of course, he realized that these women were so constantly aroused that
sitting down on a fabric couch cushion in the wrong way could, and
actually often did, lead them to orgasm on the spot. So he couldn't take
that much credit.

He had gotten his schedule down to a routine. Each Monday he would go to
the sex shop and stock up on dildos and other sex toys for them. On a
particularly busy week he'd have to go again before the weekend, but
sometimes they could make it through. He'd given up worrying about only
using cash. Not only did he use his credit card now, but he had a
standing order each week that he just picked up and paid for.

Tuesday was grocery night. At first he was aware of the odd looks he got
at the Price Club, buying all the junk food he was buying in enormous
bulk. But now it was so commonplace for him he was aware of nothing but
the tasks at hand.

He no longer felt bad about the girls living on a diet of chips and
breakfast cereal. They seemed to like it.

What worried him more was that there were still articles in the paper
about the missing group of Balder University students. Obviously, all
articles revealed that no progress was being made, but Will felt badly
that he couldn't do something for the parents of the transformed
fraternity boys. For their part, the new girls couldn't be happier with
their lives, it seemed, and had no memories at all about their former
lives.

He checked in on his friend Martin's family from time to time, and it
seemed as if they thought of Will as an old friend of their younger
daughter. There were no pictures of Martin in the house, nor any mention
of him. That was a good thing.

Bruce Carlson, too, seemed to never have existed.

As for Tuesday... Will had almost forgotten she'd ever been a man before.

He thought many times of some way to get the girls out of his apartment,
but nothing he thought of worked. Obviously, the group of them could
staff the world's most popular strip club or brothel, but only Tuesday
had any form of identity or identification... so anything like that,
would invite trouble. It had gotten to the point where Will just
accepted that they were his, forever.

But what he hadn't given up on, was joining them.

He had, if anything, become more obsessed with his search. At work, the
painful, bowlegged way he had to walk due to his near constant sexual
activity was explained by the fact that he'd taken up horse riding as a
hobby.

Everyone seemed to buy it, and it left him a ready excuse for afternoons
away doing "riding" lessons. In fact, he would take his laptop to a
nearby coffee house and take advantage of their internet service to
continue his searches.

And a discovery that very afternoon had him very excited as he made his
way home that evening.

In fact, as he was fist fucking both Tuesday and Wednesday, having his
dick sucked by one of the frat girls, and eating out Bunny while the rest
of them tried to get in there somewhere, Will's mind was hatching a plan.

As the frat girl pulled his cock out of her mouth so that he would shoot
his load on the face and tits of several of them, Will had decided what
to do. It was high risk, but what choice did he have?

***

A "smash and grab." Will was pretty sure that is what your basic garden
variety breaking and entering was called.

As Will walked into the Silver Springs Antiquities Museum , he was
partially troubled that throughout this whole, surreal ordeal... he had
yet to commit a crime. And yet that was what he was about to do.

He felt his breathing quicken, and briefly thought about turning around.
But even as he started to turn, he felt a stinging feeling in his groin
from the muscle he was sure he pulled this morning when he fell off a
pile of at least 11 women who had dragged him up on top of their giant
boobed pyramid and had their way with him.

Maybe one little crime wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, he
thought.

Plus, if this worked, he knew he'd never be caught. If it didn't work?
Well, he knew he'd be one of those "stupid criminals caught on tape" you
see on TV every night. But at least being in prison he might get a good
night's sleep.

He exhaled deeply, and walked towards the new Persian display on loan
from the Museum of Natural History in New York and mentally committed
himself to the task at hand.

It wasn't hard to find. It looked just like the picture he'd seen in the
paper. In a glass cabinet with many other old bits of pottery from
Persia sat something that looked like, well, a magic lamp.

Will balled his fist up in his jacket pocket. He shook his head
slightly. All the other avenues, he'd researched, double checked, triple
checked. Spent years trying to develop.

And now, he's left with seeing a picture of something that looks like the
lamp from an Ali Baba movie and deciding to steal it.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures. He was pretty sure that is
what his exhausted cock would tell him if it could speak, he thought with
a laugh.

There were about 15 people in the room, not counting the two museum
guards. And, of course, two video cameras mounted on the wall.

But it was time.

Will took a deep breath, pulled his fist out of his pocket and smashed it
through the glass.

***

Will thought the alarm was a lot louder than it would be at a Silver
Springs Maryland museum, but then he realized it wasn't an alarm. He was
shrieking in pain.

He opened his eyes and began rooting through the broken glass for the
lamp, grabbing it just as the shocked museum guards were walking towards
him with confused looks on their faces.

Will grabbed the lamp, pulled it out of the case, and before he could
even rub it or speak, there was a hissing sound and a thick cloud of
smoke surrounded him. He heard a loud popping sound, and seconds later
he was back in his apartment, the lamp in his now unbloodied hand,
staring at a woman who looked like a genie straight from central casting
in Hollywood .

"I'd say I can't believe this," Will sighed. "But I can."

"I think 'thank you' is in order," said the slightly perturbed genie.
"Don't you? I saved you back there."

"Yes, sorry. Thanks," said Will. His return slowly started dawning on
the pack of naked women, and they made their way towards him like
zombies. Huge boobed, naked zombies with smiles on their faces. Ok, he
thought. They are nothing like zombies.

"So," Will said. "You're a genie, yes? And I get ... three wishes?"

"I am a djinn, yes," she said. "My name is... Marjorie."

"Marjorie?" That doesn't sound much like a genie name," Will said with a
chuckle.

"Want to go back to the museum?" Marjorie snapped.

"Want to go back to the lamp?" Will snapped back.

Marjorie waved her hand and the lamp left Will's hand and vanished.

"No, I really do not," she said, smiling.

Before Will could say anything, she continued.

"I was stuck in the lamp, yes," she said. "So thanks for opening it. But
let's face it, no one opens a genie lamp for anything but selfish
motives. So don't get all high and mighty with me. Someone got me drunk
about 500 years ago, and stuck me in the lamp. Let's leave it at that.
But now that I'm out, I'm out. I don't owe you anything."

Marjorie looked around, and smiled.

"Plus.... Looks to me like there can't be too much you could want, huh?
You have some other djinn working here too?"

Will shook his head, and sat down on the edge of the couch, putting his
face in his hands. Even as he did so, Tuesday and Wednesday started
massaging his shoulders.

"Look," Marjorie said. "I didn't mean to be snippy. It was cramped in
there. And most of the time, the wi-fi signal stinks. My fantasy camel
racing team was totally messed up this season, because I couldn't get
online to make transactions during the whole trip from New York to.....
where are we now?"

" Silver Springs , Maryland ," Will answered, his face still in his
hands.

"Whatever," she said. "So when you let me out, I was able to bring you
'home' and fix your hand. But you seem almost impossibly unhappy for a
man in this situation... so if you want to fill me in, maybe I can help
you out."

Will explained everything. From the very beginning. At one point, when
he started to get too distracted from the women trying to get his pants
off, Marjorie waved her hand and all the housemates laid down comfortably
and fell asleep.

It took Will nearly an hour to tell the story. And he was exhausted when
he was done.

"Hmmm....yes, yes, yes," Marjorie said. "Guess the lesson about not
getting involved with things you don't understand was lost on you, huh?"

Will just frowned.

"Ok, I was just teasing," she said. "As with all things like this,
there's good news, and bad news. Which do you want? Wait, don't answer.
I'm pretty sure you could use some good news. And that good news is, I
can help you. I can turn you into a woman."

Will, for the first time, smiled. But the smile slowly faded. "You said
there's bad news, too," he said.

"Yes. The magic you've been dealing with is powerful stuff. I cannot
undo it. I can't put these... lovely ladies... back to what they have
been, sorry."

Somewhere inside of Will, that did register as bad news. But the shock,
joy, and utter relief of the good news still colored all his reactions.

"You really can do this? You can change me?"
"Yes, I can. And I will... if you want it," she said. "But what of your
friends here?"

"Can't you do something with them?" Will asked.

"I cannot turn the fraternity boys back to what they were," she said.
"And I've probed their minds... there's nothing left of what they used to
be. They all have unusual names, by the way? Did you know one is named
Vanilla? And why would one be called Cheetos?"

Will blushed.

"But what I can do, is create duplicates of their old male selves." she
said. "I will create them from their parents' memories of them. They
won't be exactly who they were, of course. In fact they'll be idealized
versions of them. In effect, they'll be the people their parents THOUGHT
they were. I'm sure they'll all end up being virgins," she said with a
chuckle.

"But the parents will be thrilled and notice nothing, and the police
investigation will be over. And my guess is they will all lead good
lives. That is the best I can do there."

Will nodded. "Sounds good, but that really doesn't do much for my
situation, does it?"

Marjorie sighed. "No, it does not. But then, you are getting your wish,
aren't you?"

"Yes," Will said. "I wish to be a beautiful woman. Please."

Marjorie nodded. "But I will not do something to harm innocent people.
And if you are not here to support these girls, that will harm them. So
even once transformed, you must care for them. Agreed?"

Will frowned again. She didn't seem to be able to read his mind, so he
agreed. He knew he could always deal with this other issue later.

What Will did not realize was that Marjorie did not need the ability to
read minds in order to read his intentions. She looked at him intently,
and nodded in return.

"So be it," she said. "You are ready, so we will begin."

Will sat up straight, and looked at the piles of huge titted naked women
sleeping all around him. Soon, he would join them. This, he knew, was
going to work.

Marjorie did nothing for what seemed like two minutes to Will, but in
reality was about ten seconds. Then, when he could see here eyes open
wide and stare right at him, she waved her hand.

Will almost jumped at the sensation running through his body. He felt
that he was lifted up off his seat as he felt his ass expand, and quickly
put his hands on his chest so he could feel his new breasts growing.
They started slowly, but then grew out and out... getting bigger and
bigger. His hands grew more and more delicate and he was overjoyed. But
his breasts kept changing. Instead of growing out, he felt their weight
pulling downward, and as his hands tried to contain them and lift them
back up, he saw them growing more and more frail and spotted. All around
him he heard popping sounds, along with odd, guttural howls.

He was pulled out of his stupor by a knock at the door. His instinct was
to get up out of the chair, but he found himself unable to do so. As he
looked to the door, though, he saw it open, and a pair of young women
walked in.

"Oh, good morning Ms. Wiggington," the brunette said a bit too loudly.
"How are you today?"

Will, too shocked to say anything, just nodded. At that point he felt
something jump into his lap, and looked down to see it was a cat.
Scanning the room, there seemed to be at least 20 of them...and the
strong smell of cat and litter hit his nose.

He tried to stare at the girls closely to see if he recognized them, but
his eyes seemed almost to have a total haze over them. And words would
not come out of his mouth. He began to pet the cat in his lap with a
frail, shaky hand.

"Janice here will feed your cats and change their boxes for you, Ms.
Wiggington," the brunette shouted. "We're sorry we couldn't come
earlier, it was a busy day. And I'll take care of you."

Will felt himself being hoisted out of the chair by the brunette, and
taken to the bedroom. She laid him on the bed, and lifted up the light
blue house coat he was wearing, and felt her pull down what at first
seemed like panties, but he realized instead were adult diapers.

"Oh good, it seems like you got up yourself today, Ms. Wiggington! Good
for you!" said the brunette brightly.

As she changed Will into fresh clothing, the brunette saw a picture on
the bedside table. She picked it up and showed it to Will. It was hard
for him to make out.

"You were quite a beautiful young woman," the brunette said. "I bet you
had lots of gentlemen in your day!"

Will scanned his memory, hoping to find any experiences he, or this body,
might have had at a younger age. But there was none. His mind was
unchanged. He started to frown, and a tear came down his face.

The brunette hospice nurse, assuming that she had somehow insulted her
client, stammered and corrected herself.

"Oh, I didn't mean to say that you aren't a beautiful woman now," she
said. "Because you are. You are! I only hope I look as pretty as you do
when I'm 94."

With that, the brunette sat Will up, and began combing his long, gray
hair. When she was done, she returned Will to his chair in the living
room.

The two nurses stayed for another hour. Will was spoon fed some sort of
food, given one injection, and had his hands rubbed with some sort of
cream. He tried to speak a few times, but just could not muster the
effort.

When the two nurses got up to leave, Will heard Janice, who it seemed had
not been here before, say to the brunette "please kill me before I ever
get like that, ok?" The brunette suppressed a small chuckle as they
reached the door.

"Good bye Ms Wiggington," they both said loudly, and in unison, as they
closed the door.

Will sat in the chair for another hour. Still and silent. The only
thing he heard was the constant meowing of cats, many of which would jump
up onto his lap for a few moments to be petted.

Here he was. A woman. A once beautiful one too. For the four or five
seconds he felt the body of his dreams, he was so happy. But now all he
could feel was heartache, anger at Marjorie and sadness.

At that moment, a cat jumped into his lap again. But this time, he felt
the weight of the cat pressing hard on his lap. The weight grew heavier
and heavier, and as he looked down on it, his eyes cleared and he saw the
cat transforming into Wednesday. At the same time, his own body was
changing as well. Getting bigger, stronger, and much younger. He soon
realized that he was transforming back into himself. And as both
transformations completed, Wednesday sat in his lap sucking hard on his
cock. He was so relieved to be back that he just sat back and enjoyed
it.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Marjorie glaring at him.

"You were going to just leave them here, or dump them off on someone,
weren't you?" she said.

"No," Will said. "It's not like that. It's just, I didn't ask for all
this... it's not fair that I.."

"Do you realize," Marjorie said with a chuckle, "that what you have is
even beyond the wildest fantasies of almost every male on the planet?
And don't tell me you haven't loved the sex you've been having. I saw
you enjoy what that one just did to you."

Will blushed. He couldn't figure out how to respond.

"You wanted to be a woman. To be a huge boobed woman. Well now you're
literally surrounded by them. You have all the tits, and pussy, and soft
womanly curves you could ever have asked for. And you don't have to
date, or worry about relationships or hurt feelings. You have more than
you ever could have dreamed of. Any fantasy you want, these girls will
fulfill for you... without a second's hesitation. And yet you still
complain. Pathetic. So here's the deal," she continued. "You brought
this on yourself, and you have to take responsibility."

She waved her hand, and Will felt his cock spring back to life, much to
Wednesday's excitement. Wednesday immediately went back to sucking on it
again.

"I have made it so that you will be given quite a large bonus from your
work, enough to make you set for life. And because, admittedly, the
sexual odds are stacked against you in here, I've given you the sexual
stamina of about 10 of your porn stars. You are fortunate that these
women are impervious to disease and aging, so you need to do nothing in
that regard."

Marjorie waved her hand again, and an odd looking lamp appeared on the
mantle above the fireplace.

"That lamp, is what you call a lava lamp," she said. "Yes, I know it is
not current. I believe you call it 'kitschy' or something like that. As
you can see, it is now a bright pink. When these girls are unhappy, its
color will change. When and if it turns blue, they are unhappy, and you
will once again turn into Ms. Wiggington.

The first time, it will be for a day. The next time, a week, and then
next time... a year. The fourth time, and I will be back. Trust me,
Will, you do not wish me to come back."

All around him, Will could see the other girls awaking, and moving
towards him, smiling. Some started kissing him and rubbing him, while
others started doing that to each other.

"You said... they won't get any older?" Will said. "But I will. I mean,
eventually, I won't be able to ... keep them happy."

"Yes, yes," Marjorie said. "And when that happens I will return. And
we'll have to think of something to do with them. But for now, I believe
your admirers want to test out the new you," she said with a laugh.
"Enjoy"

And with another "pop" she was gone. Will stared at the pink lava lamp
on his mantle, and saw it slowly being obscured as huge mounds of tit
flesh from every direction blocked his field of vision.

Will sighed, and dove into the pile of girls with a passion. He had to
admit that Marjorie was right about a lot of the things she said. Plus,
he had to really admit that he had no desire at all to be Ms. Wiggington
again. So as the waves and waves of jiggling tits slapped against his
face and pressed against his body, as he felt his cock being sucked and
licked by a dozen tongues, he realized that he rest of his life was going
to be spent surrounded by these girls, and taking care of them.

And, of course, having quite a lot of sex.

STRANGERS ON A TRAIN

By Bimbo Alison

A bored but romantic-at-heart witch enjoys a cross-country train trip. On her journey she touching many lives aboard the train and tries to make them better, while working around many of the rules and regulations of the magic community.

Hope you enjoy!

---------------------------

My given name is … well, my given name you couldn’t pronounce. There is a part of it which sounds like “Amy” so I’ve normally gone by that for the last, say, 250 years. Actually, that’s not true. I had to stomach some dreadful Victorian names for a few hundred years, so “Amy” has really only been in use for the last 70-80. You lose track.

You see, I’m a witch. There, I said it. The few people who have found out make SUCH a big deal out of it. But to me, it’s just normal me. There are a lot of us out there.

Don’t get all worked up. We’re nothing like you see on TV or the movies. There aren’t good witches and evil witches. It’s not like that. It’s like, are there good waitresses and evil waitresses? No. Well….I’ve met a few who seemed somewhat evil. But that is a tough job.

I digress. For the most part, being a witch is just boring. There’s not a lot new going on that I haven’t seen many times before. So most witches travel around a lot. Every so often, we decide to try something different. I’ve been married a few times. Let me see… I think 15 times. Give or take. It can be fun. But I was married until about 10 years ago, and want to take another 50 or so year break. You see, when we marry, we let ourselves age so even our spouses don’t know. And getting old can be a drag.

So I’m seeing the USA for a little while. In fact, I’m on my way from Toccoa, Georgia to New York City. No, I’m not flying on a broom. Nor even in an airplane. I’m on a train.

I guess if I had only 70 or 80 years to live, I’d be in a rush too. But since I don’t have to worry about that, I love the train. I remember the early years of train travel. It was somewhat romantic, so for me, it still holds that allure.

At least that’s what I tell myself. Of course, we’re two hours into the trip, with about 15 more to go, and now I’m thinking maybe I should have flown. Now, could I just speed up the train and make it get there in like 20 minutes? Short answer — no. I mean, I could make it go fast… but what about other trains on the tracks? Or other scheduled stops? See, magic is not as easy at it seems. Lots of things to consider.

Still that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun on this train. Why not, right? Might as well kill the time. Anyone remember that movie “Strangers on a Train”? Great Hitchcock movie. Must have been early 1950’s. Those years blend together. I was actually an extra in that, in a scene boarding the train. Actually… I think I was at least four extras, as I recall. A friend of mine was working in films on set construction. Helped to be a witch in those days, before these computers! Anyway, I was visiting her and they were doing some scenes at an actual train station, and she needed a few more extras. So I was a young girl, and older man, and two average looking women. Fun memories.

But I digress again. What is interesting me now is this young man sitting alone in a sleeping cabin. I am not nearly as intuitive as some of my friends, but I can sense he’s a good person. So might as well do a good deed for the day.

I knock on the door and he opens it immediately, greeting me with a “May I help you ma’am?” Nice manners. Although my current body is supposed to only be 30, so I’m not thrilled with the “ma’am” thing. Remind me to de-age before we arrive.

I tell him that I was just looking for a quiet place to read, and does he mind if I join him. He doesn’t of course. I catch his eyes checking out my body ever so briefly. Nothing wrong with that. If I didn’t have a few hundred years of experience as a woman, I wouldn’t have noticed it either.

I started with some small talk. Twenty-two years old, fresh out of college, heading to New York for his first real job. Ah, how wonderful. I can tell, though, that he’s a bit soft. The big city is going to be a bit too much for him, I’m afraid. Needs a boost of confidence. Hmmm. I have an idea.

I ask him to tell me about what kind of woman he likes. At first he is very polite. Smart, nice, likes to laugh… all the usual bullshit that men say. So I know there’s a little con artist in him. Good. With a flick of my finger, the water he is sipping has become tasteless vodka. And I increase his thirst level. Within a few moments, I get the real answers. He was always attracted to the tall athletic girls in college. The bright ones, the popular ones. Pretty and wealthy… all the things he could never attain.

As he spoke, I made subtle changes… first, I added about four inches to my frame, moving me up to 5-10. Hadn’t been this tall in a while. It’s nice. I made by boobs a bit fuller and rounder, as my age came down towards his. Perhaps around 20, I thought. Long blond hair followed, professionally made up face, smart, but sexy business clothes.

I could see his arousal growing, and I gradually pulled back his inebriation. But I made sure to do it slowly. He hadn’t noticed the changes to my body, he thought this was the person he let into the car, but I wanted to make sure his confidence didn’t suffer.

He was charming. I mean, seriously. I knew it was his “act” but it wasn’t bad. Of course, a real 20-year old would have no interest in this. Especially in Manhattan. Too cynical. But I laughed at his jokes, touched his knee when he made a good point, and gave him a little hug “for good luck” when he told me about his job.

I could see the confidence rise in him. Yes, I could see another “rise” in him too, but I wasn’t focused on it. But I did see it as a compliment. After about 30 minutes, I told him I had to go, but also that he was wonderful company. I leaned over and gave him a nice kiss. Nothing crazy, but some tongue and a nice clear look down my shirt. As he sat back with a big smile on his face, I told him I wished that I lived in New York, and that any girl in the city would be crazy not to fall for someone like his.

As I shut the door behind me, I knew he’d have a little more wiggle in his waggle as he ventured into the big city. Girls love a guy with confidence.

The next car I almost skipped. Two good ‘ol boy rednecks from Georgia. I didn’t take much magic to see what they thought of women, nor of what they’d done to some of then. A few years back, I wouldn’t have thought twice about just turning them both into big boobed little airheads, and letting them see what that was like. But the 2002 Witches Council Report found some surprising information in a survey which changed things. First, lots of guys end up being INTO this, and then we didn’t punish them at all. And second, almost 90% of the big boobed bimbos in the world are now former men who someone of magic has turned into this for some punishment reason. Turns out, we’re propagating the stereotype ourselves. It kind of blew us away.

But I still can’t let this go without doing something.

First off, my appearance. I hate doing this, but I close my eyes and focus, and when I open them I’m a walking wet dream. These must be at least D-cups on this little blond body. Short cut off jean shorts, and a thin stretchy top. I’d laugh if I wouldn’t get annoyed with these boobs bouncing around everywhere.

I don’t even have to knock before they’re up opening the door. George and Larry they tell me, as they sit me across from them. I could offer either one $100 to guess my eye color and they wouldn’t have a clue. Turns out that Larry’s father died and left him some money, and he and George were taking the train into NYC to see all the sites before coming back to open a gas station.

“The sites” they call it, but I can hear in their mind that they’re looking for a week of total sexual deviance. And then they’ll return and inflict that attitude on two girls like the one I’m playing right now. Well no they won’t, not on my watch.

Larry seems the nicer of the two, so I pick him. Maybe it’s the death in his family, or just the practical aspect of the fact that he’s now without family and this is easier. Slowly he starts to change, his body becoming a nearly exact duplicate of mine. I make the boobs smaller, no need to give the poor girl back issues, and make the clothing a bit more appropriate. A nice sweater, and some butt hugging jeans.

Poor George over there barely notices, and as the finishing touch I put wedding rings on both of their fingers, as they close their eyes and fall backward, asleep.

I stand up, and change back into my normal form… lean over the two of them.

“You George, and you Le-Ann, are on your honeymoon. Going to New York City for a week. In your bag you’ll find two tickets to Wicked, as well as your confirmation number for a room at the downtown Marriott.

You’ll have a wonderful week, and then return home for George to open up his gas station. Le-Ann, you want a family, and will be a very attentive wife to George. As for you, George, Le-Ann here is the love of your life, and you will treat her like a princess. If you two behave, you should have a wonderful life together. A nice family, a good business, and many years of happiness.”

I lean back and watch their eyes roll around in their heads. The new Le-Ann? I think she’ll enjoy this. And hopefully I’ve just taken two jerks and made a productive couple out of them. But still.

I sigh. I know I’ve got to leave a failsafe, just in case. I lean over to Le-Ann and whisper:

“Le-Ann, dear. George should be a wonderful husband. But if he is not, if he treats you poorly, you will go to your local library and sign out “the Joy of Cooking”. Attached to page 26 will be simple incantation. You will read it aloud when George is sleeping, and it will allow you to make one suggestion that he will take as his own idea. Tell him to sell the business.

A week later, after he has sold, you will turn to page 30, and read the incantation there. It will turn George into your younger, submissive sister. Your children will call her Auntie, and remember their father as a good man who was killed in an accident. And Aunt Georgie will go to work for the gas station he had sold as George, as well as working a second job in town to provide you the money you need to live. You’ll be provided for, I promise you that.”

I pull out a little notebook and jot down that I have to put another spell on yet another copy of the “Joy of Cooking.” I’ve been using the same book for like 30 years. It just helps to remember. But now I’ve got to Google the location of their local library and remember to hex the book. Sometimes I used to forget, so that’s the reason for the notebook. And no, its not some magical enchanted leather covered thing. It’s a small spiral bound lined pages notebook from CVS. I think it costs $0.79, if you’re interested.

Anyway, as I leave George and Le-Ann, I hope very much they will be happy together, but I can’t help seeing the image of George selling his ass on the street in their little Georgia town. The sisterhood will get kind of pissed at me if that happens, but hey, I gave them the choice of a happy life. That’s the best I can do.

What struck me next was a feeling of overwhelming goodness, and sadness As I knocked on the compartment door I passed next, a very debonair older man opened it up and invited me in. I had a pang of regret that I hadn’t kept the big boobs I’d shown to George and Larry, but what can you do.

Michael Maloy was a neurosurgeon from a big New York City hospital. He was a modest man, but just little probes of his memory revealed that he’d won many honors and was considered one of the best in the business. At 48 years of age he was a strikingly handsome man. He told me that he’d flown to Atlanta for the funeral of his uncle, and still feeling a bit blue just decided to take the train back and try to regain his spirits.

I could tell it would be difficult. His wife had died of a long illness 10 years ago. They had no children, and he lost both his parents before he graduated med school. In fact, his uncle who had died had been pretty much all he had left in terms of a family connection.

What amazes me in this man is that he put all his energy into his work. And I can tell from his stories that he enjoys helping people, but he also deals with more stress than most humans I’ve come in contact with. Still, he has led a rewarding life. A life of value.

We had a lovely chat. Remember when I said I’ve seen it all before? This, I hadn’t seen. This man, this wonderful man, was unique. And what made him so unique was that I couldn’t think of something nice I could do for him. He serves a valuable role in society, so putting him in a less stressful situation does more harm than good. To be honest, the idea of marrying him springs to mind, briefly. But I’m not ready for that, and don’t think I’d make much of a wife for the next 30-40 years. Need some “me” time.

He’s got money, he does have friends… I’m stumped. We make plans to meet for dinner later in the club car, and I hope I can find some way to make it up to him.

The universe always provides, so the saying goes. And after poking at a plate of overcooked penne for a few minutes, I first saw Lori. She was working the club car, but dealing with tables behind Michael’s back, so he couldn’t see her. Probably just as well. As polite and genteel as he is, I doubt any straight man alive would be able to carry on much of a conversation while looking at her. Was she a great beauty? You’re talking to someone who met Cleopatra (slut) and Marilyn Monroe (very sweet). So no, Lori was no great beauty. Fact is, she was rather plain looking. Nice clean features, relatively slender. Clearly she did some sort of exercise routine. But nothing most people would notice.

Of course, she had just about the largest pair of natural breasts I’d ever seen. And believe me, that is saying something. Jayne Mansfield had some very big boobs, I recall that. And I’d met a few others. I’d even tried on a few really big pairs from time to time… just to see what it was like. But Lori’s, these were a whole different story.

Her mind was easy to probe. That is a very sad thing. An inactive mind, a mind not hoping and dreaming and planning, is very clear and readable. Think about trying to view some writing on the bottom of a calm swimming pool. You can read it as if looking through a sheet of glass. But if there are waves and splashing about, you can’t read anything.

Lori Greene was 21 years old, and was born and raised in a small town in Mississippi. She had six brothers and two sisters, and was child number five in the chain of nine. She had been a good high school student, but her parents could not afford college for her. She knew this was a likely outcome, but yet still worked as hard as she could in high school… just in case.

She was a dreamer back then. She dreampt of leaving her small town. Of making something of herself. Of being “someone.” It wasn’t wealth, it wasn’t fame. Although I could tell that those things had crossed her mind. But it was more being someone who mattered. When she would read about historical figures in high school, she wondered what it must be like to be someone who others wrote about. Who others thought were important.

It is sad to say that I can tell she grew up in a loving environment, but that she did not appreciate it. She was so focused on her future, she never enjoyed her present. She tried working for a few years in her hometown to save money for college, but a year ago she realized that she wasn’t doing much more than treading water.

So she decided if she couldn’t learn about the world, she might try to see at little bit more than just her hometown. She was interesting in being a flight attendant. At one point, she drove to Jackson Municipal Airport to see if she could talk to a few flight attendants. She met a couple of very nice ones who told her, that her high school degree was enough to get her foot in the door, but it was her other “assets” which would preclude her from working in the friendly skies.

“There’s just not enough room up there for you, honey,” I can hear her being told. “You just wouldn’t be able to move around comfortably.” The fact that I can hear that voice so loudly in her head tells me it was a very important, and very crushing, moment in her life. Poor thing.

Her friends at home were no help. Boys and girls alike, they’d tell her to move to Jackson at work at the Hooters there. A couple of her more lewd friends even mentioned exotic dancing. Lori, at that time, was still determined to see the world. That’s when she took the job at Amtrak. Her size might have been an issue with this job too, but the hiring coordinator was clearly taken with her, and hired her to work a club car. At first, Lori worked as much as she could. She liked the view out the train windows, even if she never really got to spend any time in the destinations.

But working in the club car also made her a sitting target for men to gawk at her. Not a day went by when she couldn’t hear the laughs or see the amazed stares of men as her chest jiggled and wobbled with the movement of the train. And it wasn’t like she could go hide somewhere. She had a place to be, and a job to do. So she stood there, like an object.

In the last month, I can tell, things changed. To look in her eyes now, you can see nothing. Like she’s not here. She doesn’t even look out the windows anymore, nor really speaks to the passengers. She just does her job, and goes home. I can tell, too, that lately she’s been thinking about going to work at Hooters, or maybe even posing for photos on the internet. If guys are going to stare anyway, she may as well get paid.

It seems that money is the last thing she can hold onto from her dreams. Money, and whatever kind of “fame” would come from using her boobs as a career choice.

I’ve only been half listening to what Michael has been saying, but it couldn’t be helped. And when he reaches an awkward moment when he apparently asked me a question that I was supposed to answer (don’t you hate that?) I had to act. A quick spell and the train hits a very bumpy patch. Not enough to cause damage, but enough for the conductor to come on and ask every to sit down while they get through it.

I beckon Lori to join us.

“Sit here, hon,” I say. “We don’t mind.”

Lori shrugs, and quickly joins us. I can tell the moment she sits down that she feels great relief. Turbulence cannot be fun with those girls on her chest.

“My name is Amy,” I say, holding out a hand, “and this is my friend Michael. Nice to meet you.”

Lori shakes my hand, and nods at Michael, purposely avoiding eye contact. “Lori” she says, leaning back in the booth to get her boobs off the table. Michael might be half dead from stress and exhaustion, but the part that is not dead cannot help but stare a bit at Lori. Still, I am proud of how he breaks it off as quickly as possible and tries to begin some pleasant conversation.

“Lori,” Michael says, “Tell me, how long have you…”

I’m dying to freeze time for a few minutes. I want some time to think. But freezing time is a whole different bag of peanuts. I freeze time here, and all other magical beings just sit around, pissed off. “Who the hell is freezing time now?” I’d be thinking in their shoes. Plus, there’s paperwork afterwards. I hate paperwork.

“…been working on a train? It must be exciting?”

Lori shrugs and gives a polite nod.

Before the weather gets discussed, I just blurt it out.

“I’m a witch,” I said. “I witch. You know? A witch.”

They both look at me, trying to figure out what the joke is.

“No joke, it’s for real. I can do magic. I’ve lived for a long time.. blah blah blah blah blah. Same old story as every other witch.”

“Every OTHER witch, Amy?” Michael says, smiling. “What are you talking about?”

“If you’re a witch, show us,” says Lori. The tone of her voice is what I expected. She sounds like she’s as skeptical as Michael, but I can tell there’s a little part of her that hopes magic is real. That maybe magic is all she has left as hope. She’s not wrong.

“Fine, each of you, think of a number. Go ahead,” I say.

“A number from what to what?” Michael says. “You know? From one to 100? What?”

“I don’t care, just think of a number. Ok, good?”

Before they can speak, I continue. “7,643 for Michael, and 3 for the very basic Lori,” I whisper.

“Satisfied?”

Lori leans forward, now not interested in the fact that her boobs have now pressed against the table, causing them to bobble.”

“Wait,” she said. “That’s magic? That’s all magic is? Card tricks?

That one hits me in a way she doesn’t even know. Hundreds of years ago, witches did most shows of magic with cards. It was just the “in” thing to do. Tarot cards were really popular.

But then one witch, thinking it was funny, taught this human how to do a few little slight of hand tricks with tarot cards. Just to show off to some other witches, you know? I mean, he GUESSED I was a witch, I didn’t tell him. PLUS, just because he then showed his friends and then all mortals were doing these card tricks, and all of a sudden us witches couldn’t use cards to show our powers anymore, does NOT mean that all of that was my fault, you know? PLUS….

I shrugged. I could see them staring at me while I said nothing while I had that little Euripides play going on in my head.

“You both trust me, and believe me. I’m a witch.” I don’t like magic as force. But this is just a time saver.

The nodded, and then grew quiet. Almost scared. I’ve seen this before, many times.

“Nothing to be scared of, you two. I only tell you because I think I could help you. Both of you. But you must have an open mind. Are you minds open?”

They both nod, but I’m not sure if they’re telling the truth. Mostly because they aren’t sure.

“I’m just going to say it, instead of beating around the bush. I think that you, Lori, would be much happier as Michael. I think you Michael, would be much happier as Lori. And I can make that happen.”

They both start shaking their heads, protesting about how they’d never want that, I have them all wrong… all the things people say when they’re afraid someone will judge them for a choice they might make. I could easily force them to agree, but that is something I would never do.

“Michael. Lori is a lovely girl. She has a big, warm family back in Mississippi, and her whole life ahead of her. You’d be away from the most stressful job any person could have, and embraced by a family — a feeling you’ve missed for so long. So yes, you’d be changing sexes, big deal. Trust me.

And you Lori, yes you’d become a man. And you’d be 26 years older. But you’d be one of the most famous and successful neurosurgeons in the world. In the world. You’d be helping so many people, and be one of the leading people in your field. In short, you’d have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

I let them soak it in for a moment. And just as both we ready to pepper me with questions, I continued.

“Yes, yes, I know you have questions. Lori, you didn’t go to med school, you don’t know how to be a neurosurgeon. Well, in Michael’s body, those skills and memories would be yours. Michael, you would have memories of college and med school, but they’d fade after time. And while Lori is a sweet girl, she only has a high school education. That would become your capacity Michael. But there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

As for how it would work, and when? It would happen right now. Or as soon as you both wanted it. And then you would sit here for a few hours, telling each other about your lives, and then you’d go your separate, very happy ways. So, what do you think?”

Michael looked at me. I could see he was still so scared that this was a joke. Afraid to say “yes” and then have me tell him it was a prank. Damn that Ashton Kutcher. I’ll have to make it to Hollywood sometime soon and Punk his skinny little butt.

Lori though, looked me straight in the eyes for the first time and said, simply, “Yes.”

I could hear hope welling up inside her. It was wonderful. But Michael still wasn’t speaking.

“You’re worried about what, Michael? You’re worried about your friends? They’ll be Lori’s friends now. As will your patients. She will have your skills and abilities. Believe me, I wouldn’t do something if I thought it was going to hurt people.”

All of a sudden, though, I realized that wasn’t it at all. I smiled.

“Michael, Lori’s family loves Lori. And they’ll love you. And you don’t have to feel guilty about anything. You’ve given enough, and Lori wants this. Don’t you?”

His head down, he whispered “Yes, I do.”

“Great!” I shouted. A little too loud, actually. Startling a few passengers. To make it up, I make the turbulence (which I’d forgotten about) stop. Everyone seemed much happier.

“Ok, you two… are you ready.?”

“Amy,” Michael said. “If we have problems… or questions… how do we, you know, get in touch with you?”

Oh shoot, I’d almost forgotten. What a rookie mistake. What am I, 300 years old?

I look around and spy a cheap plastic hook against the wall, holding open the curtain. As I start to unscrew it with my fingers, I turn to Lori. “Lori, hon, I assume you’ve got replacements for these things?”

“Boxes and boxes of them,” she said. Good, I’m not big into property damage. I unscrew the little hook and put it on the table between them.

“Here’s the deal, when you both touch this, the change will occur. And in your mind… you’ll believe this little thing somehow caused the change. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. We’re talking about you switching lives, and the part about the curtain hanger is the part that makes you think I’m crazy? Seriously, though, after a few minutes, you won’t even remember meeting me. Sorry, but them’s the rules.”

They both frown, but it has to be done. I don’t want them tied to me, nor looking for magic to continue to solve their problems.

“If you’re ready… go ahead.”

Lori eagerly touches it first. Michael reaches towards it hesitantly, and then looks up at me and smiles slightly. When his fingers touch it, the change is instantaneous. Anyone watching wouldn’t see more than two people blinking at the same time.

“Oh my lord,” says Michael, now in Lori’s body. “This is so strange. I feel like I’m having a heart attack.”

“Lori,” I say (with emphasis), “you know how someone says a heart attack feels like having a huge weight on your chest. Well… well…. Look at yourself!”

Lori, now in Michael’s body, lets out a small laugh.

“Now you two, I’m going to go. But you’re going to stay here, at this table, for the next two hours and talk. In fact, I’ve made it so your feet cannot move for the next two hours. Tell each other everything you need to know about your old lives, and I wish you both nothing but the best.”

I lean over and kiss each one of them on the forehead. They probably think it’s me being motherly, but it’s just some old magic. Both their minds are now interconnected. What the old Lori tells the new Lori, will forever leave the old Lori’s mind. And vice versa. As I told them, there’ll still be remnants of their old lives, but after a few hours, they’ll be ready.

I can see the new Lori having a bit of trouble processing things. That’s a natural adjustment. She went from one of the smartest men on the planets to a girl with low to average intellect. But there’s nothing wrong with that either. Just some adjustment time.

As I get up to walk away, I can tell they’ve all but forgotten about me. I can see the information flowing both ways, and see that it is working.

I feel pretty proud of myself, until I see his middle aged guy with a comb over storming down between the seats. I realize its Lori’s shift manager, and he’s not too pleased that she’s not doing her job. Forgot about that part.

Problem is, I react too quickly. Bob Jordan becomes Bitsy Jordin in a flash. Hey, knee jerk reaction, what can I say?. But not a big deal. Bitsy is now working the club car for the next two hours. She’ll do a nice job too. And when Lori and Michael are done, Bitsy turns back into Bob and just remembers the whole thing as a long, weird dream.

I don’t think I’ll get any flack for that.

I spend the next two hours sitting at the bar, ordering the craziest drinks I can think of so that Bitsy has to scramble all about. I’m enjoying myself. I think also that this “dream” might force Bob to be a lot nicer to whomever replaces Lori.

The future is a funny thing, I think, as I sip on a Sloe Gin Fizz. I am very tied into to the new Michael’s mind right now, and the new Lori’s too… and I from that, and some natural precognitive abilities, I begin to see a picture of the rest of their lives.

The new Michael will get back to New York and attack his job with a vengeance. His friends will marvel over how his attitude seems so much more upbeat than it had in years. Being a close friend means sometimes rationalizing behavior, and old Michael’s friends had kind of forgiven him his moods because of the death of his wife, his job, and so forth. But seeing the “new” attitude, they remember just how even more amazing a person he could be.

The new Michael will continue to be one of the best neurosurgeons in the East for another 10 years, but eventually will find his time spent more and more on issues of research. He will never remarry (no time), but will continue to have a circle of close personal friends. And when, at the age of 75, he is the leader of the research team which finally comes up with a cure for Alzheimer’s disease, it will be a discovery lauded world wide.

Michael’s last years on earth will be spent continuing his research, lecturing, and enjoying the number of people he has helped. When he starts to see that his life’s work is taught in Medical school, and mentioned in history books as well, there are glimpses of the old Lori inside him that realize that all of her hopes and dreams came true.

And the new Lori? She returns to Mississippi and moves in with her family for four years. She has some difficulty adjusting to her new gender, and her new body, but she is thrilled to be part of a large and loving family. She cares for her younger siblings to take pressure off her parents, and works at a restaurant as well. After two years, she saved enough money to enroll in a local community college, where she receives her associate’s degree in English in only four years.

The new Lori isn’t enamored with the old Lori’s friends, but still does socialize with them a bit. She eventual adjusts to her body being an object to be coveted by men. But while the old Lori might have used that for profit, or in a profession that would have caused her and her family some shame, the same thoughts never cross the new Lori’s mind.

She gets a job as an assistant editor of a weekly newspaper, and eventually meets a very nice, slightly older man who runs a local business. It had been six years since her transformation, and when the new Lori finally has sex for the first time … she finds it mind blowing. And while she waited until she and Andrew, her fiancée, were engaged, the first time opened in the new Lori and well of sexual desire that she had not expected. It was probably the moment that SHE first truly accepted her womanhood. Andrew was considered the luckiest man in town. No one knew the half of it. Lori would satisfy his every carnal desire. They had sex at least twice a night, and many mornings she woke him up with oral sex. She loved pleasing her husband, and he treated her like a princess.

Lori would leave the newspaper after two years as she and Andrew began a family. They would have three children, two boys and a girl, and Lori would be a wonderful mother. Education became the most important thing to her. Despite her own limitations, she would be active in all her children’s school activities, serving as chair of the local PTA for 11 years. She championed new after school care programs, reading contests, and helped raise money for a new library.

She would eventually be given a great honor, having a little league baseball field in town named after her. She and Andrew would have a wonderful life together, full of passion, family, and friends. And when their children were grown, they would spend their later years traveling the world together. She too would lead an important life. Just as the old Lori had wished for.

I was feeling pretty good. I had old Bitsy scrambling around to make me a Blue Iguana… which come to think of it might be the name of a movie and not a drink. And as Lori and Michael arose from the booth to begin their new lives, and Bitsy turned back into a VERY confused Bob, I sat by the window and watched the countryside pass me by.

Train travel was just as romantic as I had remembered it.