"Oh god," I whisper.
I quickly slide the shorts down, revealing tan lines left by workout shorts, the paleness creeping into a round and inviting ass. Beneath that juicy butt, between my shapely thighs...
"No. No no no no no!!!!"
I turn and see that it's gone. It's completely gone. My big cock has disappeared. In its place is a trimmed strip of soft, red hair and a mound that is warm and delicate beneath my fingers. My fingertips brush against the little bud at the top of my soft folds and I let out a hiss. I have a pussy. I have a pussy! And a clit!
There is a lot of screaming. Pinching myself. A shower during which I stare at the water pouring down my big, heaving breasts and pluck at my newly fat pink nipples. I gently prod two fingers into my pussy. It feels good, although not as good as touching my clit. My body is firm and athletic, but gone are my big biceps and pectoral muscles. My abs are no longer a rock climbing wall. Whatever process transformed my body into this must have robbed my muscles to give me these gorgeous, soft, squeezable tits.
I force myself to stop playing with my new body. Stepping out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom, I look at my face again in the mirror. I'm still there, traces of me at least, it's just all changed. My eyes are bigger and more almond-shaped. My nose is more delicate. The square shape of my jaw has been rounded down and my lips are much fuller.
"I look like my sister," I say. More like her than myself anyway.
"Brian?" It's my sister's voice at the door of my bedroom. "What's all the screaming about? You okay?"
"Fuck off, Andy!" I shout.
Andy is short for Andrea and my sister hates that I call her that, particularly when I'm annoyed with her. The only problem with shouting at her is that my voice isn't my own either. It has softened and gone up in pitch. It freaks me out and, evidently, freaks Andy out too. She comes barreling around the corner and into my bathroom. I don't have enough time to pull the towel around myself.
"Bri-- What the fuck?!" She looks at me with outrage and then yanks bank the shower curtain. "Brian! Who is this bimbo?"
Andrea is tall and shapely. She actually seems to be an inch or two taller than me right now. Yesterday she was a couple inches shorter. Her red hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she is still wearing her workout clothes.
"It's me," I say to her. "It's Brian. Something...something happened to me. I think a chemical spilled on me."
She stares at me in disbelief as I tell her the only possible explanation I can come up with: Dr. Guttenberg's Sample 83 turned me into a woman overnight. She seems struck with shock one second and she laughs the next.
"I guess we should call you Brianna now," she giggles.
"Not funny," I snap.
"What? It's cute. Look, bro, or sis, it'll probably wear off and you'll go back to normal."
"Maybe," I say hopefully. "Until then, I can't let anybody know what happened. Except for Dr. Guttenberg. He might be able to come up with a cure."
"You're going to school like this?"
"I have to."
A smile spreads across my sister's face.
"If you have to go to school, then you have to look the part, which means you need some clothes to wear." She walks over to me and brazenly lifts and squeezes my breasts. "These look like double Ds. I have some outfits that will fit but all the underwear is going to be tight."
"I don't need to look like a slut, Andy."
"Oh, trust me," she says.
I get the feeling that I probably shouldn't.
I wrap myself in a towel and my sister drags me to her messy bedroom. Clothes are spilling out of drawers and her walls are covered with photos of her with her friends.
"Alright, first things first, let's try on some underwear." She kicks her dirty laundry out of the way and closes the door. "Lose the towel. It's okay."
I reluctantly yank off the towel and toss it onto her bed. The cool air conditioning hits the last drops of water clinging to my naked body and I shudder. My pink nipples strain almost painfully in the cold breeze.
"Wow," laughs Andrea, looking down between my legs, "you really did change everywhere didn't you."
"This isn't a joke!"
"Right, right, okay." She turns to her overflowing dresser. "Let's see...I think I've got...here you go. And try these on. And this. These might fit too."
She tosses me several bras and a couple pairs of panties. I've barely even touched my sister's underwear before unless I'm looking in the dryer for a missing sock. Holding all this soft cotton and lace feels extremely perverted. The idea of putting it on my body feels even more perverted. She sees that I am standing in confusion and she comes over to me.
"Alright, let me help you."
She plucks one of the bras from my hands and gently fits the blue lace cups over my breasts. As she pulls the straps behind my back and over my shoulders the fit becomes tight. My breasts are lifted. The lace edges bite gently into the tanned softness of them. I can see in the mirror on the wall that although the bra does close successfully, it's so tight that my areolas are visible above the cups.
"That's a maybe," she says and takes it off of me.
She touches me without apparent concern, but every time her hand brushes against my nipples or she tightens a bra behind my back I feel myself getting turned on. The unpadded bras fit better, but she warns my nipples will show through whatever top I wear.
"You have big ones," she says and rubs her fingers against my nipples causing me to yelp. "The padded ones will hide the nipples, but you're more likely to pop out. Way more likely given how big these things are. I think we'll have to go with the unpadded."
Picking out the panties is much easier. My butt appears a little bigger than my sister's, but she picks out some soft cotton, full-bottomed panties and they fit almost perfectly. A little snug on my ass, clinging to my round cheeks, but I can live with it. Not too different from a pair of briefs.
Blue lace bra. Pink cotton panties. It doesn't match but it's not like anyone is going to see this other than my sister. Deciding on an outfit to wear with the underwear takes longer. Andrea keeps pushing these really sexy outfits on me and I keep gravitating back to frumpy sweatshirts and pajamas bottoms.
"Look, Brianna," she says, stinging me with the new name she has given me, "you're going to stand out more if you cover all this up in layers to hide it. People are going to see you looking like you just rolled out of bed and wonder what's wrong with you. It's better just to flaunt it. I'm not expecting you to wear high heels here, just be realistic."
"Okay, okay," I say, holding up my hands. "You know how this stuff works. I don't get it."
Andrea's blue jeans are a little too tight in the bottom for my liking, but she finds a pair of olive shorts and a dark gray tank top that are a fit just snug enough for me to live with. I walk around her room a little bit.
"Everything feels different," I say, running my hands down my flat tummy to my hips. "I can see a camel toe. And my bra straps."
"Nobody is going to be looking," She says. "Men look at your face, then your tits, and, if you're walking past, they look at your ass."
I turn and look at my ass in Andrea's mirror. I bend forward a little and push it out. To be honest, it looks fucking hot. I would love to get a piece of that ass.
"Killer," she says. "Now, let me show you how to put on lip gloss."
She gives me a quick lesson in makeup. A little foundation, just a hint of red in the cheeks, a stay-wet pink lip gloss that I think looks slutty as hell, but it's my sister's style, and a little bit of eye liner. She holds up the hand mirror and I pout my lips.
"This is so fucking weird," I say, looking in the mirror and seeing a sexy model-gorgeous young woman. "Who the hell am I?"
"Brianna," says Andrea. "And you know if you're trying to be incognito you can't take your truck to school, right? Everyone will know it's you right away. You'll have to take the city bus to and from school."
"Shit," I say. "I just realized
I have practice after school today. I'm going to have to tell Coach Dandridge what happened."
The thought is almost as horrifying as when I realized my dick was gone. Coach is not going to be happy, but I can't go to practice looking like this. In this body.
"Thanks, Andy," I say.
"No problem, sis. Let me know if you need a vibrator," she says as I am walking out the door.
I flip her the bird and head downstairs. My feet have gotten smaller, so I steal a pair of her tennis shoes and go jogging to the bus stop. Even with the bra, it feels like my boobs are bouncing everywhere. I can see men looking at me from their cars. I can feel eyes crawling all over my body. Is this what it feels like to be a woman? It's like I'm on fire or something.
It only gets worse when I climb the stairs into the bus. It's packed with commuters, standing room only, and every man looks at me with that same appraising look. Andrea was right. They look at my face first, then my tits and, when I brush past them, my butt. I find a ring to hang onto and stand as far to the back of the jostling bus as I can.
After about a minute I feel something against my butt. I don't think about it until it squeezes my ass. I look down and see a man's hand gently kneading my butt. I follow the arm up to a middle aged man wearing a business suit. He's well-groomed, fairly handsome, not the sort of guy you would imagine would be fondling a teenage girl on the bus.
"Hey," I say to him. "Get your hand off of me or I'm going to kick your ass."
I give him a shove and he doesn't budge, which is weird because I should have been able to practically shove him through the window. He smirks at me and suddenly his hand reaches around my hip. He grabs my crotch through my shorts and squeezes it as he yanks me towards him. My ass collides with his crotch and I feel the hard shape of his cock through his trousers.
"Get off of me," I cry.
The chugging noise of the bus and the murmur of conversation surrounds us. I'm literally walled in by people and I feel like nobody is noticing what is going on. He chuckles and his hand slips down the front of my shorts. I gasp as his fingers roughly slide into my panties and he fondles my fuzzy peach, fumbling fingers at my soft mound, spreading me and squeezing me. I rock back against him as I attempt to squirm away. My ass rubs against his hardness.
"You like that?" he asks, leaning over my shoulder.
"No!" I moan. "Let me go!"
The worst part of being touched by this creep is that my body is responding to it. My breasts are heaving and my nipples are stiffening under my tank top. My clit, this weird button of nerves, throbs with pleasure as he rubs his fingers against me.
"You little high school bitches wear less and less every year," he whispers to me. "You're not fooling anyone. When you wear shorts like that it means you are looking for cock. I've got one for you. Why don't you get off at the next stop with me."
He grinds his hardness against my ass. His fingertips dip into the increasingly overheated and slick flower of my pussy. He's touching me in ways I've never been touched before and my body is reacting with treason.
"Go to hell," I hiss. "You fucking pervert. I'm not...oooh...not getting off with you."
"You don't think I can get you off?"
He begins to rub my clit harder and harder. His other hand releases my ass and he grabs my free wrist. He pulls my hand back and thrusts it into his trousers. My eyes go wide as I feel his hot, hard cock beneath my fingers.
"Stroke it, you little slut," he whispers. "Stroke my cock."
He lets go of my wrist as my hand closes around his shaft. I hear him unzip and lower his underwear. The tip of his cock rubs against my thigh. God, what he is doing to my pussy feels so good. I can't help myself. I squeeze my hand tight around his dick and begin to work my hand on him.
I turn a little so we are almost face to face. I look down at his cock. For the first time in my life, I am touching another man's cock. My mind is repulsed by what I see, by what I am doing, but my body tingles with desire.
"That's a good girl," he says. "You like to play with that big dick, don't you?"
I shake my head, refusing to admit anything of the sort, but my hand does not stop moving on his throbbing cock. His fingers are busy too. I lean my shoulders back against the wall of the bus as his fingers strum the wet length of my groove and stroke my aching clit.
I wasn't prepared for this. To be touched like this guy is touching me. I can't fight against these new, strange sensations his fingers are driving into my throbbing, wet pussy. His free hand slips under my shirt. His fingers drive under one of the cups of my bra and he roughly squeezes me.
"Yeah, I knew you would like this, you little slut. Stroke me faster. Come on, make me cum."
I do as he says. My body is ruled by my lust. I thrust my hips and push my slick groove against his fingers. I can feel something I have never felt before. A tightness inside me like a spring being pushed down farther and farther. He grunts and I feel liquid splashing against my thigh. I don't look down. I don't stop jerking off his spurting cock. The spring...it's going to...
"Aahhhhhh!" I cry out, finally drawing the eye of some of the people standing around us on the crowded bus.
The spring releases. It leaps through my body. My breasts shake and my back arches reflexively as my climax hits me. I can feel it rippling through me, both more powerful and more diffuse than any orgasm I have ever experienced. There is no liquid gushing into my panties. No sudden release that is over and done in a few seconds. This last, shuddering through me and slowly fading like a dying echo.
The man looks at me with a satisfied smile. I look down and see his cum all over my thigh and dripping down my leg and onto my shoe. He slowly withdraws his fingers from my panties and lifts them up. His fingers glisten with my juices. He brings them up to my mouth and I look at him, feeling a desire I've never known before as I lick and suck his fingers clean.
"Good girl," he says and in a last, almost tender gesture, he smoothes some hair away from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear.
I stumble off the bus at the school stop. My legs are shaking and my thigh is still smeared with that stranger's cum. I didn't even make it to school before someone took advantage of me sexually. I'm in a daze. I feel sick and excited all at once.
"Hey, uh, you got something on your leg," I hear.
It's Becky something. Becky Reynolds maybe. She is in my grade, but one of those smart girls who hangs out with the smart people. Her brown hair is parted down the middle and pulled back into short tails. She is wearing overalls over a striped shirt. Shapeless and terminally uncool. The sort of thing Andrea was trying to keep me from wearing.
Becky walks up to me and hands me a tissue.
"Oh, thanks," I say. "Someone was, uh, eating a donut on the bus."
I crouch and daub at the sticky slime on my leg and shoe, aware of how crouching makes my ass stick out in these tight shorts. I feel even more on display than usual with Becky watching and other people heading into the school.
"Thanks," I say. "I got it."
She gives me a weird look, acts like she is going to say something, and then hurries off. Smart people are so fucking weird.
I take a deep breath and head into school. If I felt ogled on the street, it's twice as bad inside a high school. The guys are practically drooling over me. I brush past them and head straight for the workout room. I have to talk to Coach Dandridge about practice and then talk to Dr. Guttenberg.
Fortunately, the workout room is empty. The lights are out and I have to squint and wave past all the weight equipment in the dark room. The lights are on but the blinds are pulled in Coach Dandridge's office. I knock at the door. He quickly closes out of whatever he was looking at. His frown turns into a smile when he sees me standing in the door. I don't see recognition, I see the same lecherous look 90% of other guys have given me.
"Come on in," he says. "What can I do for you, young lady?"
"Coach, uh, I don't know how to put this and you're probably not going to
believe this, but I'm Brian Harrison. I'm your starting quarterback."
He blinks. He squints and looks at me. He gets up from his desk and comes around.
"Don't put me on," he says. "I'm not in the mood."
I blurt it all out. The detention, the lab, the spill and waking up as a woman. His expression goes from disbelief to the familiar stern look I've come to expect from him when he is pissed off about something. He folds his arms over his trim chest as I finish my story.
"You believe me, right?" I plead.
"What I believe," says coach, "is that you don't want to go to practice after school. So you dressed up like this and put on some sort of costume and you think you can put one over on me."
"I'm not lying, coach!" I protest. "Dr. Guttenberg will fix it. He has to."
"Prove it to me," he says.
"Prove what?"
He takes a step closer to me, lowers his voice, and says, "Show me your breasts. Prove they're real."
"I can't do that!" I cry, taking a step back until my butt collides with the closed door of coach's office.
"Then I'm going to have to bench you and let Kuntzmann play QB. I can't have my starter skipping out on practice without a valid reason."
An image of Alex Kuntzmann throwing pick after pick and costing us state flashes in my head. Then, even worse, an image of him throwing a Hail Mary and being lifted into the air on Wyatt's shoulders to a cheering crowd. I have to get Doc to fix me and I have to convince coach not to bench me, whatever it takes.
My face flushes as I reach for the bottom of my tank top. Coach nods his head slightly indicating I should proceed. I take a deep breath, look away, and lift my shirt up. I can feel coach's eyes on me. It feels worse than when he gets that pissed off stare on his face after I fuck up on the field.
"All of it," he whispers intensely. "Take the bra off too."
I fumble with the bra strap. My heart is beating like crazy. I know this isn't right, I know coach is being weird, but I'm used to doing whatever he says. I can't get benched.
Girl Trouble Page 2