This choice: You have to admit you don't know how... generous... you'll become by wearing it. • Go Back...Chapter #5You have to admit you don't know how you'll look. by: Mr. George   With an outfit that hasn't been worn before you wonder and worry about how you'll look. Naturally, the bikini is hard to estimate. Certainly, you don't know how it'll fit, as you try to project a confidence and familiarity you don't feel as you buy it.
Your fear makes you nervous and too hasty to linger over the choice. With so many unknowns, you rush, and pick almost the first outfit.
Eager to be out of the shop, and feeling their eyes on your back. You guess most guys don't buy a bikini without their girlfriend present, to give their opinion or ... consent.
You manage not to break into a run, as it flee the shop. The paper bag proudly advertises 'The bikini boutique', in curvaceous script that playful hints at the curves they'll contain. Making you even more self-conscious.
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Even as you feel your heart slow, and the pounding of blood in your ears ease up, you worry that the outfit is too brief. It looks vanishingly petite as you take it in. Imagining it containing your as yet unexpressed curves. The patches of fabric look lewdly tiny and provocative.
Approaching a quiet spot, you take it out. Trying to imagine wearing it... Your nerve snaps as you picture yourself wearing it. The back of the bottoms is a simple thong! It drew an amused smile from you in the shop. But, the reality of it dividing your ass cheeks feels deeply unnerving.
You caught your own gaze drawn to the other beach visitors. Their bust bouncing and swaying provocatively as you fight to avoid staring. An unrelenting instinct guiding your eyes to that succulent flesh, that holds your gaze with an unswerving pull. You caught the smirks of some women, who spotted your attention.
Others, kept your attention as they walked on. Their rumps so much fuller and mobile than your own. The svelte hips providing a sharp contrast with the swell of their hips.
You're quite an average guy, lacking impressive muscles. Equally, you lack the pot belly of others.
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The medallion sits coldly in your hand, no obvious hints of life-changing power. You take in the angel as just another crude figure, the medallion cheap. In your distraction, your foot catches on some uneven ground, the medallion flying free.
Belatedly, you snatch it hand closed, capturing the chain before it can completely escape. However, it swings wildly, you feel it bounce around, brushing against the bikini in your other hand, and bouncing off your flesh.
That shouldn't do anything, you tell yourself. Cursing the uneven ground. Even as you do, you feel a tingle spreading out from your ribs, where the medallion briefly made contact! Shit! It's real!... It's real, and you're about to become the woman that fits the damned bikini... just as you chickened out of wearing it.
You're almost at your chosen spot to hide and change... So you quicken your pace... as you feel your skin soften and smooth, your chest softening and swelling, your eyeline drops as you lose inches in height too!  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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