Chapter #12From One Best Friend, Into Another by: Nostrum   It's hard to wrap your mind around the fact that the girl standing before you — with her radiant, flawless face, graceful and slender figure, and effortless charm — is actually your chubby friend Jimmy Wilson in disguise.
Well, not really. You did it to himself, fooling his mother. It never felt like you were wearing a costume; instead, it felt like you were merging with them, their skin becoming yours.
But you know Jimmy very well, and that was not him talking to Kelly. Even when he grasped her shirt, his subsequent complement didn’t feel off – if Kelly was spooked, it was because how nice he was. He shouldn’t behave that way, and yet he did.
And like flicking a switch – no, like tuning a guitar – he proposes you to become one of the girls at the table. Even then, he’s not breaking character. It really doesn’t feel like your friend’s helping you make a move. It feels like Samantha’s offering you one of her own.
You know he’s going to push you. You’re surprised he didn’t choose the rich cousin, but as tempting as it may be, the thoughts of her friend still linger in your mind.
And he’s no psychic (unless the pens give him that power?), but he knows how to read your face. “You want Laurie, right?”
“Pretty much. I mean--”
“Wait for me here. I’ll call you when she’s ready.” She starts to leave, making one final claim. “Oh, and pay your friend’s shake. He had to use the emergency exit. Family issues.”
At least he’s a good sport, you tell yourself. He doesn’t mind me throwing him under the rug.
As you call for the waitress, asking for the slip, you notice how “Samantha” seamlessly blends with her friends. It’s only fifteen minutes later that you see her and her friend move to the bathroom, and less than two minutes later, you feel your phone tremble. It’s a text message from an unknown number.
[Rdy when u r. Also – ur welcom 4 the #]
You check your surroundings before stepping to the bathrooms. As Jimmy claimed, they’re far enough that any sound from the tables gets muted– only the sound of the music. There are also no cameras there – though the establishment has no cameras anywhere, just outside – which means nobody will see you.
Samantha’s waiting for you outside the women’s bathroom, arms crossed. “Took you a while.”
“You sure this’ll work?”
She snorts. “I did the hardest bit already. I’ll keep an eye and distract anyone from getting in. You just keep the door open.”
With your heart racing, you step inside. It’s not so different – you expected it to be cleaner, and the lack of graffiti seemingly confirms it, but it lacks the urinals, offering an additional booth instead. There is a changing station for babies, and a machine that, when you check it, has tampons and pads.
You check the semi-closed booth and you recoil in horror. Samantha’s friend is there, her eyelids drooping and her tender smile gone, replaced by a gaping hole for a mouth. The trash bin is full of red-stained pads and tampons, with one of the deflated hands touching it. Fearing anyone could barge in, you undress her (and yourself), wondering how you’ll fit into a girl as slim as hers.
Oh, she’s got some curves – her breasts aren’t too large, sagging naturally with gravity to appear squished, and her hips have some heft – but she wouldn’t beat Kelly any time soon. (In fact – to your dismay – she looks like a slimmer version of your sister Claire, but a good look at her face perishes the thought.)
After setting her jeans and long-sleeved white blouse aside, her lacy panties and bra on top, you take a deep breath before sinking your legs into hers. They feel like undersized tights – footies, maybe? – but stretchy and clingy. It’s not as easy as when you slipped into Jimmy, as the skin starts to merge before you can even adjust it. It takes a minute or two to get a quarter of the way.
The groin will be complicated, though. With Jimmy, it was like slipping your thing inside a sleeve. But she has nothing. You heave the skin upwards, letting her hips swallow yours, and soon enough, as you fit her groin and ass with yours, you feel how your raging boner, bulging the skin, gets shoved in.
You set the upper part of her skin aside to see it, then rub your hand nearby. It’s smooth, with no bulge in sight. It even tingles when you rub the flabs of skin leading to the cavity, startling you.
You waste no time stretching yourself into her. The arms, again, are a pain, as if you had to squeeze inside gloves two sizes too small. And when you finally get her chest close to yours, it starts hungrily gripping you, feeling disturbingly off. But soon, even that is fixed. Her head hangs limp in your neck, but the rest of her body swallows you like a jumpsuit.
The sensation of being inside a girl’s skin is much different than that of being inside a boy’s, feeling nothing hanging from between your legs, but the weight on your chest disrupting your sense of balance.
Finally, the moment of truth. You take a very deep breath, then shove your face inside her head. You flip her hair and rub your fingers on her soft, supple face, letting each bit of her surround you. You sigh, and the sound isn’t that of a young man, but a girl.
At this point is where you notice just how different it is to be a guy than a girl. For one, you feel... shorter? (Maybe compared to Claire, though she’s still growing.) Her hair – a lighter brown than your natural hair color – falls as a cascade from your shoulders, covering your head like a veil. You have to fight against it as you observe her legs, smooth and soft, but also strong.
Strong? You feel like you could kick a guy’s balls and crush them. You feel like you could beat Trish in a match. (And Trish has trained since youth to be a runner!) Everything from her hips to the tip of her toes feels shaped to perfection. And it’s strange, because that’s the least you’d notice about her.
You hear the door, and you shirk. “You okay, Laurie?”
“Sort of,” you reply with a timid voice. And yet, that voice feels so fitting to her.
“Cool.” You hear the door slam, prompting you to grab her underwear. You hear a click, then a rubbing of hands. “Open up.”
“Why?”
“Psh! To see your new bits, of course!”
Rolling your eyes, you open the booth, staring at your friend with fierce eyes. “I like it better when you’re in character.”
You see him pose, leering. “Like I haven’t seen you in panties.”
“Then why not try to remember how I look in them?”
You see a look of confusion in Samantha’s face. “Because I can’t.”
“Hold on. What about ‘you can’t’?”
“Like I’m telling you! It’s like, I know I’ve seen you in underwear, but I can’t imagine it! Or, well, see it.”
“That sounds like a problem.”
“It’s not as troubling as it seems,” she insists. “I mean – I know I’ve seen you... I mean, her in underwear, and I could even recall what we spoke about last time I did, but I probably couldn’t identify her house or her room. It’s...” She snaps her fingers, shocked. “Think of it as knowing things second-hand, because she’s telling you that.”
“But then, if it’s second-hand knowledge, how could you--?”
“You’ll know once you try it. Still...” He turns around you, lifting your arm while admiring your new body. “Dude! Your titties are bigger than mine!”
“Really?” You grab them, heaving them upward. “I don’t feel them that big.”
Almost immediately, your friend takes off his – her? - jacket and vest, revealing her torso. For someone who you know as a singer, she’s got an incredibly flat and smooth tummy. (You also do, but yours has a semblance of abs.) it’s obvious she’s got a healthy lifestyle – contrasting Jimmy who’s a big eater.
As she claims, though, her breasts are smaller. Even when she lifts her bra to show them, they’re small – like an orange, but cut in halves and squished on her chest. Compared to yours, they’re perky (and bouncy, as Jimmy decides to hop in place).
“See for yourself,” she tells you, almost daring you. “You got the better body, but I’m smoking hot.”
You look at yourself in the mirror, approaching it almost reverently. It’s not just her doe eyes and pouty lips. It’s an innocent look – the kind that makes you want to hug her and tell her she’ll be safe from everything and everyone. And that innocent look gives way to the cutest smile you can imagine.
“Well, well, well...” You feel two slim arms hugging your waist. “Look who’s enjoying her new looks!”
“Stop it!” You slap her arms away, sternly gazing at your friend. “What if the owners see us here, and think we’re two lesbians trying to hook up?”
She grins with delight. “That’d be so hot.”
“Well, your cousin and her friend are gonna worry about us.” You return to the booth, grabbing the rest of her clothes. “So let me dress up.”
“Can you stay like that for a while?” You turn around, mortified, and she grunts at you. “Goddammit, dude! I was checking that fine ass!”
“We don’t have time! Besides, it’s not like I can check yo--” Almost immediately, she lowers her jeans and panties, shaking her rear. “Nevermind.”
“You asked for it, girl.” She turns to meet you, and you can see her bushy groin. “This one’s a freebie, though. I’ll let you dress up before the next step.”
“Next step?” you say as you adjust her panties.
“Though...” You see the grin on her face, and you know what it means, because it cannot be hers. “I want to see how she’d react to find herself naked in a bathroom...”
You feel a slight jolt on your chest, and soon enough, the world goes black...  You have the following choice: 1. Continue |
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