by D. L. Savage
* * *
“So, congratulations I guess …” Bethany said, an odd sadness entering her voice.
The two girls were sitting on one of the sofas in the otherwise empty common room of Alpha Delta House, the carnage of an hour ago now just a distant memory, the only hint of what had happened being that suspicious sticky smear on the floor in the centre of the room, and the chalky white stains on the front of Tina’s pretty blue skirt.
“I suppose this means you’re free to go now,” Bethany continued. “You did it. You kept your side of the bargain. You fooled them all and got into the sorority. And you know what? I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” Tina said, looking down at her knees, a sad feeling creeping across her too.
“Well, it’s been fun,” Bethany said. “Can’t say I haven’t enjoyed it.”
“Me too,” Tina said, shyly, catching Bethany’s eye for a brief moment.
“No hard feelings?” Bethany said, and Tina smiled, a nervous shiver running through her as she realized that Bethany was actually leaning in for a kiss.
Tina closed her eyes, feeling Bethany’s tongue slipping into her mouth, exploring it, her full sensuous lips so soft and sexy, and she kissed back, savoring every second of it, knowing that soon all this would be coming to an end. Eventually the two girls stopped kissing, and Tina got to her feet, feeling the wet gooeyness in her panties as she took a few steps towards the door.
“Wait,” Bethany called after her, and Tina stopped, turning, her heart in her throat. “I was thinking …”
At this Bethany faltered. Could she really be about to say it?
“Yes?” Tina asked, expectantly.
“Well ...” Bethany said, shyly, for once a nervous blush creeping across her cheeks, all that confidence and superiority fading away for once. “I was thinking … I was thinking that perhaps we could carry on seeing each other, if you know what I mean? As girlfriends? I’ve had such a fun time with you, I don’t think I want it to end.”
Tina didn’t even have to think about it. A big smile crept across her pretty face and her eyes flashed with happiness.
“Does that mean yes?” Bethany asked.
“Of course it does,” Tina replied. “I thought you’d never ask!”
5
Personal Assistant
“Aaron Smith? Mr Hunter is ready to see you now.”
I look up from my seat in the waiting room at the pretty blonde receptionist, then push myself to my feet. As I follow her towards the imposing double doors at the end of the corridor, I try to recall all the preparation I did for this interview. It should be easy. I mean, all I need to do is to explain exactly why I’m the best man for this position. I’ve got years of experience in the field, and I know that I just need to be myself. But that’s easier said than done, because with each nervous step I take closer to those doors, I can feel all the thoughts and memories evaporating from my head, replaced by nothing more than a deafening squall of white noise.
God damn it, I think frustratedly, as the receptionist pauses and knocks, why am I always so fucking useless at interviews?
And the cold, imposing voice that calls back from inside the room - “Send him in” - does little to help my frayed nerves.
The receptionist gives me a reassuring smile, then pushes open the door, revealing a plush, exquisitely furnished office. And there at the desk, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his jet black hair slicked back and his dark eyes burning at me with a cold fire, is the CEO of this whole company: Logan Hunter.
“Ah, Aaron,” he says, slowly and confidently, never taking his eyes off me for a moment, “please, take a seat.”
He gestures to the chair opposite, and I nervously approach it, feeling my cheap suit straining a little at my waist as I sit down. Guys like this – handsome, confident, well dressed – have always made me feel intimidated. Maybe because they’re pretty much the opposite of me.
“Let’s cut straight to the chase,” Logan Hunter says, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, resting them casually on the expensive mahogany desk that separates us, “what makes you think that you’re the right person to work as my assistant?”
I feel my heartbeat increase, the words catching in my throat as his big dark eyes burn into me with such intensity it’s almost scary. But to my surprise, after a moment I do actually start to feel my thoughts returning to normal - and to my relief all that prep work I did last night starts to kick in after all.
“Well, Mr Hunter,” I reply in a voice so calm and collected it almost doesn’t sound like mine, “I actually have a great deal of experience in your field of work already …”
To my total surprise, as I speak, all my research comes flooding back to me. I lay out all my good points, my qualifications, my experience, all the while remaining calm and on-topic, while Logan Hunter listens closely to every word I say, occasionally nodding his head in agreement, as I try to sell myself as best I can. And when I’m finished, I seem to have done a pretty great job, even if I do say so myself.
“Well, Mr Smith,” Logan says with a wry smile, no doubt a little surprised, “that really was very impressive.”
“Thank you, Mr Hunter,” I smile back, still unable to believe it went so damn well. I can’t help it; I’m already getting excited, thinking that this job is in the bag. Which is when he says it.
“Pity,” he sighs, more to himself than to me.
“I, uh, beg your pardon?” I say, confused, my stomach sinking.
“I said, it’s a pity,” he replies, the smile vanishing from his face and those cold dark eyes burning into me once more.
“What’s a pity?” I croak back.
“If you’d been a hot chick, I would have offered you this position on the spot. But as it stands, Aaron, I’m afraid that despite your industry knowledge, which I must admit is excellent, your ... appearance leaves rather a lot to be desired.”
I sit there for a moment, head spinning, unable to believe my ears.
Did that really just happen?
“Anyway, thank you for your time, Mr Smith,” he adds with a cruel smile.
Still dazed, I push myself up from my seat and let myself out of his office, stumbling back through the waiting room, glancing quickly at the other two hopeful candidates – both clean cut, smart-looking men about my own age –
before rushing past reception, into the elevator and through the lobby, finally gasping at the fresh air of the street again.
I shoot a final angry glance back at the huge, imposing Hunter Inc building, wishing I could scream Fuck You at the top of my lungs. But instead, after a moment, I just push my hands into the pockets of my cheap suit pants and start to make my way home to my crummy apartment, over on the other side of the city.
* * *
“Flower, sir? Flower, madam?”
I’m dimly aware of the Irish accent calling out into the bustling crowd as I make my way down the busy business district, but it’s only when I accidentally come crashing into her, too lost in my own thoughts, that I look down and notice the strange old woman to which this voice belongs.
She’s tiny - four foot tall at most - and looks about a hundred years old. She’s dressed in dirty rags and the collision has caused her to drop whatever it was she was carrying on the street between us.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I say, quickly crouching down to help her retrieve her things, which turn out to be a bunch of sad-looking wilted little flowers.
I hand them back to her with an apologetic smile, and she looks me up and down, before saying, “For you, twenty dollars.”
“Twenty dollars?!” I repeat, looking down at the tiny flower that she’s holding out to me hopefully. But there’s something kindly about her expression and my heart goes out to her. So I find myself taking out my wallet and handing her a crumpled twenty dollar bill.
She grins and quickly pockets the money, before presenting me with the crushed little blue flower.
“Be
careful what you wish for,” she murmurs, catching my eye for a moment, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
“Hey man, how did it go?” my roommate James asks as I step into the apartment, a little while later.
I groan and shake my head, pausing to throw the flower in the trash before grabbing a beer from the fridge then joining him on the beat up old couch where we spend most of our time. Like me, James is still working whatever crappy temp jobs he can find while trying to permanent job in this unforgiving city. And so far, neither of us seem to be having much luck.
“That bad, huh?” he grins.
“The guy was a total asshole,” I reply. “He basically said that I gave a great interview, and the only reason he wasn’t gonna offer me the role was because I wasn’t a chick.”
“What the fuck?” James replies, shaking his head.
“It’s crazy,” I say. “I mean, I know companies these days are all about equal opportunities and whatnot, but even so. Did he really need to just straight up say it to my face?”
“That really sucks, dude,” James says sympathetically.
“You know, man,” I mutter, “sometimes I just wish I was a hot chick. Then I’d …”
But before I can even finish my sentence, it sounds like the whole apartment has exploded.
What the fuck?!
I’m blinded by an intense flash of light, and for a split second it’s like I’m totally absent from my body, and when I come flashing back to my senses, once more sitting next to James on the couch, everything feels well … different.
“What the hell?” James screams, looking at me in total horror, pushing himself up from the couch and backing away from me. “What just happened?” he asks, wide eyed. “And who the fuck are you?”
“What do you mean?” I reply. “It’s me, Aaron. What are you talking about?”
But even as I’m speaking, the voice that’s coming out of my mouth isn’t my own. It’s a soft, sultry female voice. It’s so weird. Even my throat feels different as I speak, and as I touch my hand to it, I discover that where my Adam’s apple used to be there’s now just soft, smooth skin.
I feel my heart rate quickening as I try to work out what’s happening. Because my body feels different, too. I feel smaller and lighter, and I stare down in horror at myself to see that my once-tight suit is now hanging baggily around my limbs and chest. My hands look tiny and girly, and the only part of me that feels bigger now is my chest. Well, my pecs, anyway. They feel heavy and full, kind of like what I’d imagine boobs might feel like.
I stare in horror at James, who’s still backing away from me with a similar horrified expression.
“Dude, it’s me, Aaron,” I say, in that same soft girly voice as before. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“What the fuck?” James mutters, shaking his head. “What the fuck?”
He starts pacing up and down the small cramped living room, occasionally shooting weird glances at me, eventually stopping before me and putting his hands on his hips.
“Well, if that is really you,” he says quietly, “I think you’d better go and take a look at yourself in the mirror.”
I do as he says, pushing myself up to my feet. But as I make to walk to the bathroom – which contains the only mirror we have, a tiny little shaving mirror – I almost trip over myself, as my feet come slipping out of my damn shoes. I look down at them, my once tight socks now like two cotton bags around my tiny feet, the last few inches of my suit pants all bunched up around my ankles, the pants themselves threatening to fall down too, causing me to hold them up around my waist with both hands to stop them sliding down around my ankles.
My body feels totally different as I walk towards the bathroom, as much as I’m able to in this stupid oversized suit. I’ve never really taken much care of myself, I guess – always eating junk food and always a little overweight – but now I actually feel kinda healthy. My breathing is much better and my limbs feel tight and trim.
I open the door to the bathroom and make for the mirror.
And what I see in it knocks the air out of my lungs.
Because there in the little circle of glass, dressed in a cheap men’s suit, is the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You okay in there?” James’s voice calls from the hall, a few minutes later.
I’m still in total shock, sitting on the toilet, head in my hands. I’m a girl. Somehow, I’m a fucking girl. It makes no sense. What the hell even happened?
“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” I call back shakily, still totally spooked.
I get to my feet and stand once again in the cramped bathroom, my heart pounding as the reality of my situation slowly starts to sink in. I reach up to touch my head again, dragging my fingers through my new long, silky hair. Then I untuck my shirt and push my hands tentatively beneath it, first touching my stomach – which is now totally flat and toned, instead of chubby and out of shape – then moving further upwards, gingerly taking hold of two perfectly-sized breasts, just big enough to fit in the palms of my hands.
It’s the weirdest sensation. Part of me can’t help but feel a little horny at holding such perfect tits in my hands, but at the same time, they’re now my tits. I savor the soft warm weight of them in my palms, and I can even feel my nipples growing hard; starting to push into the soft skin of my palms. This is totally different to how my nipples used to feel. I nervously start to tug and tweak at them, feeling the pleasure quickly increasing in my body, in particular between my legs.
Which causes another weird feeling. Because it’s kinda like I’m getting a boner, only totally different. Instead of feeling my dick growing hard, all I can feel this soft yet insistent throb, right there between my legs.
My heart starts to beat even harder as I let go of my right breast and push my hand tentatively beneath the loose waistband of my pants, then inside my cheap cotton boxer shorts. At first it feels the same - pubic hair, only it’s a little less rough and wiry than mine normally is. But at the point where my dick would begin, instead my fingers touch against the source of that throbbing sensation and I gasp involuntarily as the pleasure quickly magnifies in my body, way more powerfully than I was anticipating.
Holy shit, that was almost the strength of an orgasm, just from a single touch of my finger. This must be my clit, I think, again shaking my head in total disbelief at what’s happening. I let my fingers slip a little further downwards, to about where my balls would normally be. Only instead, what I touch are two soft, moist pussy lips. I ease my finger just a little way inside myself there, the warm gooey wetness quickly spilling out onto my fingers, and again I gasp and shudder at the sheer force of the sensation. It’s so fucking intense I almost can’t take it.
I pull my hand quickly from my pants and inspect my fingers, and sure enough, they’re covered with a sticky sheen of clear, fresh pussy juice.
What the hell?
My heart still pounding and my head spinning, I quickly pull my pants back up around my waist, tightening the belt to its smallest notch, then pad back out to the living room, where James is waiting nervously for me.
“So that’s really you in there?” he asks in a shaky voice.
I nod. “I don’t know how it happened but … Oh my god.”
I touch my hands to my face as I remember.
“What?” James asks. “What is it?”
“The old woman,” I murmur.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“There was this old woman as I was walking back from the interview,” I explain in a garbled rush. “I bought a flower from her and she said, Careful what you wish for …”
I run over to the trash and begin rooting through it, but it quickly becomes apparent that the flower I threw in there is now totally gone – disappeared into thin air.
“What are you doing?” Alex asks me, totally perplexed now.
“It’s gone. The flower’s gone. I threw it away,” I exclaim. “But it's no long
er here. Remember when I said I wished I was a hot girl?”
James nods.
“Well that was just before that flash, remember? It must be some crazy spell from that flower or the old woman or something.”
“But that’s just totally insane,” James says, shaking his head.
“Well, how else do you explain this,” I say, gesturing to myself.
And for once in his life, James actually seems lost for words.
Even though my mind is still racing, I decide on an early night, hoping that when I wake up tomorrow morning, this whole mess will be over. After all, maybe the spell the old woman put on me is only temporary? So I say goodnight to James, then head to my messy apartment, strewn with clothes and empty takeout containers.
But as I begin unbutton my shirt, I pause, realizing that I’m about to get naked in my new body for the first time. A body I haven’t even really seen properly yet, let alone explored, apart from those brief seconds in the bathroom.
I cast a nervous glance at the door – making sure it’s closed – then start to unbutton my shirt, beneath which I’m only wearing a simple white cotton tee. It’s so weird, watching the bumps of my breasts appear beneath the fabric as I open the shirt and shrug it off my shoulders. I can even see the bumps of my nipples, which are softly tingling and growing hard, the more excited I’m getting.
And I can feel that throbbing between my legs again, too.
Next I step out of my pants, not even needing to unbuckle the belt to free them. And then finally I push off my boxer shorts and pull off my t-shirt, leaving me fully naked. There’s no mirror in my room, but I only need to gaze down at my brand new body to know that it’s perfect – slim, but shapely in all the right places too.
I reach around to cup my butt in my hands, feeling how big and round it is. Then I reach up and take my breasts in my hands again, my fingers once more tugging and tweaking at my nipples until, to my surprise, I actually let out a soft little involuntary moan of pleasure.