*** EROTIC TG STORY: "ALPHA MALE' BHBH
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ALPHA MALE
Terry Rideou was halfway to the store when the van
pulled to a screeching halt beside him and a trio
of muscular, black-clad men in ski-masks spilled
out the open side door.
Terry had a few second’s warning as the sound of
well-worn breaks screaming in protest dragged his
head around, allowing him to see the dilapidated,
dark-colored van come to a shuddering stop. Even
as it halted, the trio of faceless attackers were
scrambling out in a nearly well-coordinated
movement - but there was a few feet between them
and Terry, who was standing near the entrance of
one of the many narrow alleys that riddled the
older downtown section near where he lived. He
knew these alleys like the back of his hand,
having grown up in the neighborhood, and - unlike
his massively built assailants - he had the rangy
physique that bespoke his prowess as both sprinter
and marathon runner. There was no doubt that he
could outrun the trio of men, whose shear bulk
would be a liability in a foot-race.
With all that in his favor, the tall,
ruggedly-handsome youth with the short mop of
sandy blond hair only made a token sprint for
safety, making almost no distance as a pair of
attackers grabbed him, the third slipping a bag
over his face and cutting off the late afternoon
light. He barely even struggled, making more noise
then any real hindrance, as they tossed him -
fairly gently - into the back of the van, the
sound of the door being slid shut mingling with
the roar of the engine and the squeal of the tires
as the noisy vehicle accelerated away from the
curb.
The reason that Terry didn’t put up much of a
struggle was actually quite simple.
He was looking forward to the ‘kidnapping’.
Well, not necessarily to the kidnapping per se -
he didn’t know what the ‘attack’ was going to be,
and he wasn’t looking forward to the attack for
it’s own sake. What he was looking forward to,
however, was what the attack stood for. Though the
method, execution and style varied from year to
year and from person to person, the fact that he
was ‘attacked’ was a sign that he was being
seriously considered for membership in his
collage’s most prestigious fraternity - the Alpha
Kappa Delta’s.
The procedure for becoming an Alpha Male wasn’t an
easy one. The Alpha’s were a small, ‘elite’
fraternity, and they took their membership
seriously. Their initiations for pledges were
serious tests that went through twelve different
stages, each one of which winnowed down the
prospective group of pledges further and further.
Terry had already been through eleven of the
steps, and had been waiting, with baited breath,
the final stage - if he was considered to be ‘the
right type’ of guy for the Alpha’s. that was one
of the cruelties of the Alpha initiation’s last
stage - they never, ever told anyone flat out that
they’d failed. Instead, they simply refused to
move on to the next step for the failed pledge -
but there was no set interval between stages, so
each prospective member went thorough a torture of
anxiety, not knowing whether the next stage was
yet to come, of if they’d been dropped altogether.
So - now he knew that he was still in the running
- and had a fairly good shot at making it to
‘Alpha Male’ status. All he had to do was pass
this final test...
...whatever it was.
As the van shimmied and rattled, sounding as if
each part wanted to separate from each other part,
Terry lay on the metal floorboards and simply
soaked up the vibrations rattling through the
vehicle’s frame. With his vision occluded by the
black hood over his head, he concentrated on the
sounds he heard, trying top gather as much
information as possible about his surroundings,
the route the vehicle was taking, and anything
else he could note - he didn’t know what
information would determine success of failure in
the unknown test he was starting, so he strove to
gather it all, impossible as that might be.
Above the noise of the engine and the hum of the
tires, he could hear the traffic sounds of other
vehicles slowly decreasing, which told him that
they were heading away from the center of town,
maybe towards the suburbs. He could also hear the
other occupants in the vehicle talking in low
voices, but was unable to distinguish the
individual words themselves, leaving him unable to
understand what was actually being said, aside
from the occasion word or two.
Though he knew it couldn’t be all that long a
trip, it seemed to Terry that they’d been
traveling forever - his adrenaline level was high
with excitement and anxiety, and time tried to
drag interminable as he lay motionless, afraid to
do anything lest it screw up his chances to
succeed at the test.
Then, his mind working overtime, he began to
wonder if doing nothing, in itself, would cause
the failure of the test...
The more he thought about it, the more he began to
worry - what if the test itself was to see if he
had the guts to risk expulsion by trying to
escape. What if not trying would be the failure,
whereas successfully avoiding the hypothetical
test would be the successful outcome of the real
test? What was he going to do?
Finally, he could stand it no more. Taking a deep,
silent breath, Terry braced himself...
...then contracted the taut muscles of his
abdomen, pulling himself into a sitting position
using them alone as his hands rose to yank off the
mask...
...only to be stopped dead before he got fairly
started, firm hands grasping his arms and forcing
him back to the floor. The only way that could
have happened was if two of the vehicles occupants
had been sitting beside him silently, ready for
just such an attempt.
Now that he’d started on this course of action, he
couldn’t back out - succeed or fail, he had to
play out the choice he’d made. So, he began to
struggle against the arms that held him, making a
fine balance between honest effort to escape and
the knowledge that this wasn’t truly a dangerous
situation, and he couldn’t fight indiscriminately.
Not that he had a snowball’s chance in hell,
anyway - not with two muscle-bound youths fighting
against him in an enclosed environment - they
definitely had the upper hand. There was no way he
could win the fight - he was just praying that the
attempt itself was what they were hoping for, as
part of the test.
More time passed while he was held immobile,
making the occasional - vain - attempt to
‘escape’. Then he heard the pitch of the engine
changing as the hum of pavement changed to the
crackle of gravel under the tires. This sound
continued for a good fifteen minutes, letting
Terry know he must be on one of they myriad
rural-routes that lay outside the city limits, a
good distance from either his apartment or the
campus - giving him an idea of what was to come.
Finally, the vehicle pulled to a stop, the feel of
gravity indicating that they were on the back-side
slope of a hill somewhere out in farm country. A
short pause ensued, then the hood was pulled from
his face.
The light from the over-head dome wasn’t all that
bright, but Terry had been hooded for at least
half an hour, and it took several seconds for his
eyes to adjust. When they did, he found himself in
the back of a van filled with the detritus of it’s
day-time function as the janitor’s van - mops,
buckets and odd cleaning supplies vied for the
space filled by the five youths who had filled the
van, now looming over him with their mask-covered
faces focused on him alone.
“Okay, bud, listen up.” One of the masked man
said, trying to (and not quite succeeding) sound
gruff and threatening. “We’ve been hearing things
about some group that calls themselves the
‘Alphas’, and we want to know all about them. Now,
you got three choices her. First: You can tell us
all you know, and we’ll take you back home.”
Opening a small satchel, the masked man extracted
a hypodermic syringe. It was about a quarter
filled with a slightly yellowish liquid.
“Second: we can inject you with this. This is
Pentobarbitol Sodium - a kind of ‘truth serum’.
Then, after we wring you dry, we’ll dump you here
and you can try and get home by yourself, while
still doped up. Trying to flag down a cop for help
in that state would be... interesting, I would
think.”
He gestured, and a second masked youth reached
into the bag and pulled out another needle - this
one full to the top of a murky, dark-green fluid
that looked decidedly unpleasant.
“Third choice - you manage to keep from talking
under the truth serum - and we inject you with
this, then bury your body where it’ll never be
found. So, pal - what’s it gonna be.”
Terry now knew exactly what was going to happen.
Rule number one about the Alphas was simple - you
never, ever, under any circumstance, discussed
anything about them with anyone else. True, these
guys were really Alpha Males themselves, but for
the purpose of the test he was supposed to pretend
they weren’t. if he simply blabbed things about
them, he’d fail for sure.
“Forget it - I’m not telling you a damned thing.”
Terry said, defiantly. He could have chosen to
deny he knew anything, but figured that this would
‘look better’.
“Okay, then - the truth serum.” The man said. He
nodded at one of the youths holding Terry’s arm,
and the youth pushed up the sleeve of the
light-gray sweatshirt Terry was wearing, holding
firmly onto his arm.
The first attacker then leaned forward, squeezed
the plunger on the needle slightly to make sure
there was no air bubbles in the syringe - then
plunged the needle into Terry’s vein and emptied
the contents of it into his bloodstream.
Terry hadn’t been sure how much of this was a
bluff, and how much was ‘real’, to make the test
truly demanding. He wasn’t terribly surprised at
being injected, though - many of the Alphas were
taking pre-med, so they were probably using ‘truth
serum’, exactly as advertised. Just to see how
much willpower he had, as well as to test his
willingness to ‘take a needle’ for the Alphas.
The assailants sat back on their heels and waited,
their obvious leader keeping an eye on his watch -
obviously, he knew what he was doing, and knew how
long it took for Pentobarbitol Sodium to reach
it’s full effect. The whole ‘abduction and
interrogation’ routine was well worked out and
played, impressing Terry with the Alpha’s
dedication and imaginations....
Murphy’s Law is famous, the world over. Everybody
knows it, or some close variation on it. Slightly
less known is O’Tooles comment on Murphy’s Law:
‘Murphy was an optimist’....
The van was parked on a hill. The van was also
old, dilapidated - and currently ‘untended’, the
occupants all in the back. So, there was no one
immediately handy when the parking brake began to
slip, and the van began to roll forward, rapidly
gathering speed as the vehicle rolled down the
incline.
With a curse, the masked youth nearest the
driver’s seat scrambled to the front of the van,
Terry watching him move with an odd sensation. It
seemed almost as if the youth was moving in slow
motion, though he was obviously hurrying. At the
same time, the whole scene seemed to be oddly
exaggerated in it’s aspects - everything seemed
heightened in intensity, with the colors being
starker, the noises being sharply and clearly.
Strangely, despite the enhanced sensations, it was
also strange distant from Terry, as if he was
watching it all on a movie screen - a high
resolution, high-contrast movie screen with Dolby
Surround sound, granted, but with that odd
disconnection from his own sense of self. It took
a second for him to register that it must be an
effect of the drug kicking in - his own thought
processes were also effected with a duality,
trivial thoughts and ideas seemingly clearer and
more profound then they’d ever been before, yet
his ability to separate important thoughts from
unimportant ones and follow them to a logical
conclusion was fuzzy and difficult.
He watched the slow-motion figure of the youth
slip behind the wheel, and it seemed that he could
read the man’s near-panic through the set of his
shoulders and angle of his wrists. Terry could
actually see each of the muscles in the man’s legs
move in a chain reaction as they bunched under the
dark jeans he wore, pushing his foot down on the
brake with a firm motion, ‘slamming’ the breaks in
a languorous set of motions.
In the ‘real’ world, the actions were quick and
hard, and the van rocked to a sudden stop just
before it would have rolled off the curving road
at the bottom of the hill and down the embankment.
The sudden stop jolted all the passengers
forward...
Terry could feel the needle the third youth was
still holding slide into his arm. It seemed to
take forever to slide through his skin and into
his vein, and it seemed to Terry that the slender
metal spike was the size of the Empire State
Building as it shouldered aside cells to make room
for itself in his flesh. Then the rubber seal at
the top of the needle itself pressed against his
skin, stopping the forward motion of the needle -
and the continued weight of the youth holding it
forced the plunger inward, sending the contents of
the syringe into Terry’s bloodstream, where he
could feel it slowly spreading throughout his
bloodstream, seeming to burn slightly as it spread
through the veins and arteries of his suddenly
more ‘there’ body.
“Oh, shit!” John LaPointe swore, under his breath,
staring at the empty syringe he held. He was a new
pledge himself, made a member of the Alpha’s only
two days ago. His test had been to break into the
bio-med supply room and fill the two syringes -
one with a Sodium Pentathol derivative, the other
with something ‘threatening’. Since they’d never
planned to use the second syringe, John hadn’t
even paid any attention to what he was filling it
with, having chosen solely on appearance. He knew
that it wasn’t a poison, alkaloid or acid, because
the different substances were stored in different
lockers, and he hadn’t bothered to pick the locks
on any of the really dangerous cabinets. He’d
picked the lock on the Barbiturate cabinet to get
the Pentobarbitol. Then he’d broken into the
Faculty locker to get the ‘other drug’, because
the ‘new’ drugs that the tenured staff worked on
as side-projects were most often the scariest
looking. Whatever was now flowing through Terry’s
veins was one of those projects, a drug that was
not designed to be specifically lethal - but,
other then that, John had no idea what the drug
was, what it would do, or what the correct dosage
- and dangerous overdose amount - was.
This could get him kicked out of the Alphas...
A quick glance around showed that nobody had
noticed what had happened. All this had taken
place in the space of an instant, even his
frenzied thoughts and horrified conclusion - and
everybody else was focused on the drop-off just in
front of the beaten-up Ford’s bumper.
Panicked and scared, John dropped the empty
syringe into a puddle of cleaning fluid that had
spilled, then stepped on it with his heel,
crushing it.
“Shit!” He swore loudly, drawing the leader’s
attention. Catching John’s point of focus, he
looked down - and saw the shattered syringe, the
fluid surrounding it keeping him from realizing
that it had been empty.
“Don’t worry about it.” The leader of the little
group said, shortly - he was angry at the
unplanned situation, but was forcing himself from
lashing out at somebody else because of it, and
was actually being more reasonable about the
‘accident’ with the syringe as a result.
“Sorry...” John said. In another situation, he
would have been caught cold from the expression on
his face, but the featureless ski-mask he wore hid
his guilty expression from view.
Terry wasn’t about to tell on John - he was lost
in a sort of a daze, his drugged mind having
latched onto the idea of a great new type of
infallible parking break. Though he remembered
being injected, and had planned to say something,
it didn’t seem as important as the new train of
thought he’d hit upon, which seemed so obvious and
clear that he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t
thought of it before...
“Hey, Terry.” The leader of the group said,
snapping his fingers in front of Terry’s face,
breaking his chain of thought. For a second, Terry
just stared at the fingers in front of his face,
amazed at their shape and texture, and they way
the moved as they slipped across one another with
slow, sharp movements. A second later, terry’s
mind made the connection between the fingers
themselves and the muffled reports that seemed to
echo through his head, and he realized that he was
watching a hand snapping it’s fingers. His brain
then slowly connected a chain of reasoning, and
Terry realized that the man who the hand belonged
to was trying to get his attention.
His body feeling heavy and slow, Terry slowly
forced himself to focus on the man in the
ski-mask.
Seeing he had what little attention Terry could
give, the masked man began to question Terry about
the Alphas. Nothing serious, and the answers
didn’t matter to him - he just watched as Terry
struggled against the drug’s effect on him.
It was a foregone conclusion that Terry would
eventually answer the questions. It took
considerable training to be able to ‘spoof’ the
drug. What interested the leader of the group was
how well Terry fought. Finally, satisfied that
Terry was giving the answers ‘unwillingly’, he
decided that Terry had passed the first half of
the test, and it was time to proceed to stage two.
“Already - that’s all we need to know.” He said,
not bothering to act the ‘thug’ anymore - Terry
was in no condition to notice. Gesturing, the
leader had one of the others help him, and they
hauled Terry out of the van.
“Okay - now you get to find your own way home.”
The leader said, as he and his companion climbed
back into the van, which was now running. The
vehicle backed away from the edge of the
embankment, made a three-point turn, then sped
off....
...just as it was beginning to dawn on Terry what
he was supposed to do.
He stood there on the side of the dirt-and-gravel
road, just soaking up the atmosphere of the late
summer evening. The sun was heading for the
horizon behind a stand of trees, stark shadows
intermingled with long, slanting rays of
pinkish-orange light. A soft, cool wind was
stirring the foliage, and Terry found himself
entranced in the motion of the leaves...
..after a few minutes, it dawned on him that he
was just standing there staring at a bunch of
trees, and he snapped his attention away from
them, feeling disjointed and awkward. He looked
around again, recalling which direction the van
had come from, and departed to - up the hill he
was now facing, the one it had rolled down.
It seemed to take considerable effort to get his
body moving - it felt heavy and awkward and
uncoordinated, as if his brain wasn’t directly
connected to his body. He felt as if ‘Terry’, the
quintessential him, was a small man inside the
head of the body, looking out through the eyes and
operating a complex series of levers, switches and
knobs to make the body work. At the same time, all
his senses seemed hyperactive, reporting things
with more clarity then he ever thought possible -
when the wind ruffled his shortish, unstyled mop
of sandy blond hair, he could swear he felt each
individual strand’s movement.
He’d just started up the hill when his
hypersensitive senses began to report something
odd going on in his body.
Confused at the strange sensations running through
him, he looked down at his left arm, whose sleeve
was still pushed up from being injected, and which
it hadn’t occurred to him to push down. As he
stared dopily at the arm, he realized that the
flesh itself was writhing, as if it were an ocean
and the tide was rolling in. the undulating motion
of the flesh and sinew was causing the hairs of
his arm to fall out, and he watched them drift to
the ground in bemused amazement, not really
capable of worrying about it at the moment.
When his eyes made it back to the arm itself, it
was because the sensation had ‘deepened’, now
reaching right to the bone itself. He watched in
amazement as the arm reshaped itself, becoming
slimmer and finer. The wrist narrowed
considerably, as the hand at it’s end became
smaller with longer, more supple fingers, each
tipped with a nail that was somewhat longer then
it had been before.
It took him a couple of seconds to think about
comparing it to his other hand, and he found that
both hands had the same, slender appearance.
“hey...” Terry giggled, finding his voice thick
and slightly slurred. “I’ve got hands like a
girl!”
Terry’s attention was pulled from his hands by a
pushing/pulling/swelling sensation elsewhere. His
hands slid down to slide across his hips and ass
as they slowly expanded outwards, pulling the
slightly baggy denim of his faded jeans tighter
and tighter s the flesh underneath reformed
itself, making his hips wider and his ass fuller
and firmer. At the same time, he felt the
strangest ‘pulling’ sensation in his crotch, and
he agonizingly fumbled open his fly and slid his
hand down his silk boxers just in time to feel the
last remnant of his once-proud manhood retreat
inside his body. Under his questing fingers, he
felt the flesh at his crotch reshaping itself, and
he gasped at the sensations created as a clit
formed under his roaming fingers, perfectly
matched with the rapidly forming cunt.
As amazing as it seemed, his attention could be
diverted from his lost manhood and newly-formed
womanhood. He was staring down at his crotch, his
mind just beginning to catch on to the fact that
this wasn’t right, when he noticed that his view
was being occluded by his sweatshirt, which was
slowly being pushed out at the chest, accompanied
by an odd swelling sensation. His hands rose from
his crotch and slid over the sweat-shirt, and he
could feel the firm mounds of flesh beneath the
sweater - as well as feel his hand’s pressure
through the flesh itself.
“I’m growing tits...” He said, as the swelling
mounds continued to push out against his hands,
already the size of grapefruit and still
expanding.
It took a second, then...
“I’m growing tits!” Terry gasped, stunned and as
horrified as he could get at the moment. “I’m
turning into a.. a.. chick!’
There was no denying it - her breast were
continuing to expand, even as sensation through
the rest of his body informed him that the rest of
his body was configuring itself to a new gender.
The initial euphoric ‘high’ of the drug was
wearing off now, though it was still in his system
and functioning in it’s main capacity as a
hypnotic. Terry, of course, wasn’t aware of that -
he just knew that the artificially induced
euphoria was fading, allowing him to respond more
naturally to what was occurring to his body, even
if he still felt somewhat light-headed and
disconnected.
“Holy shit!” Terry swore. Completely disregarding
any modesty or legal ramifications, he stripped
out of his clothes. The worn-but comfortable
sneakers, the faded jeans, the sweatshirt - even
the athletic socks and the boxers, all came off
and were dropped in a pile as she tried to get a
good look at the body whose changes were just
coming to a completion.
Of course, getting a really good look at your own
body is nearly impossible without a mirror - but
she definitely tried, even as the sensations from
her body fed more information to a brain that was
starting to rev up the emotions.
Fighting against the new weight and drag at her
chest, Terry leaned over and stared down at a pair
of feminine feet. They weren’t all that changed,
in absolute terms - but what had changed was
enough, definitely pushing them into the ‘feminine
category, as they’d become slightly shorter in
length and significantly narrower in width. The
proportions had also altered on more subtle
levels, leaving her with feet that were
unremarkable for a woman - but definitely
remarkable at the base of a person who, until a
short time ago, had been male.
Attached to those feet were a slimmer pair of
ankles that led up to legs that were feminine, and
- while not amazingly so - definitely sexy in a
sort of cute, athletically toned way. Those legs
led upwards to hips that had suffered relatively
minor widening, to the point where they looked
feminine, even if they were fairly slim and
athletic for a woman. Though the new woman
couldn’t see her altered ass, she could defiantly
tell that it was fuller and firmer, to a
considerable degree.
There, nestled between her new, firmly silky
thighs, was the undeniable outer lips of a pussy,
unadorned by any pubic hair at all.
“I’m not going to faint...” Terry told herself
firmly as the world grayed out for a second at the
rush of emotions from finding herself ‘unmanned’.
The words brought little comfort, as they emerged
in an unremarkable, but definitely feminine,
contralto.
She couldn’t see the slender, toned waist she now
possessed, though her roaming hands informed her
of such. She couldn’t see the waist and taut
stomach, because of the tits blocking her downward
view.
And what a pair of tits they were! Of course, she
could only see the upper halves, but what she
could see, plus the feel of them in her hesitant,
feminine new hands, informed her that they were
huge - the size of basketballs, though no piece of
sport paraphernalia had ever felt so resiliently
soft, so silky smooth. Tipped by large, frank
nipples, the massive boobs were almost spherical,
gravity not yet having a chance to work on them
like naturally-occurring tits. They looked more
like surgical implants, with their firm texture
and round shape - but, then again, they lacked the
under-sized nipples and the unnatural ‘hardness’
at the center of saline- or silicon-inflated
implants.
Her shoulders were somewhat broad for a woman, but
not remarkably so - in fact, they were nicely
rounded and toned, leading to shapely, smooth arms
that matched the undeniable feminine nature of her
slightly broad hands. The shoulder blades led to a
slimmer neck that led up to the one part that she
couldn’t see in any form or fashion, her altered
facial features - but her fingers could (and did)
foam over her face. What they reported to her
stunned and dazed brain was a slimmer, if still
somewhat squarish jaw, a much smaller nose with
more of an upturn at the end, and lips that were
considerably fuller and softer then before. They
could also inform the new woman of the longer
status her eyelashes had achieved, and of the
finer, more up-swept eyebrows that had replaced
her previously heavy, straight ones. She also
found that there had been changes in her
cheekbones, which felt higher and slightly more
prominent, and in her ears, which were smaller and
more finely curved. In fact, they only thing that
seemed unchanged was the shaggy mass of
sandy-blonde hair topping the whole package off.
“Oh... my.. god...” Terry said, heavily, wincing
at the sound of her altered voice. Not knowing
what else to do, she slowly began to dress as she
tried to come to terms what had happened to her.
From what she could gather, she’d been turned into
a tomboyishly attractive woman who would have been
cute and mildly sexy in a wholesome, somewhat
vague sort of way - if you could ignore the
massive, spherical tits her athletic frame now
sported. In fact, all things considered, she was
just about what you’d expect Terry to look like,
if she’d been born female - she had the Male
Terry’s same athletic frame, given the necessary
adjustments for gender. In fact, she was the same
height as she had been, as a male, and the
clothing she was putting on fit pretty well, with
the obvious exceptions of the hips, ass and
breasts, where it clung much more tightly then it
had before.
In fact - Terry realized that she must also be the
exact same weight, as - remarkable and ‘magical’
as the change seemed - there was no way for mass
to simply vanish. It had to go somewhere, since
her frame was more slender and less muscular, for
the most part.
Which, she realized, explained the massive tits
thrust so roundly from her chest. All the extra
muscle mass had been converted into breast-flesh,
and was now straining the sweatshirt to the limit,
each round, firm mound clearly defined by the taut
fabric covering them.
Her mind was strangely composed and analytical
about what had just happened to her - or, more
accurately, there was nothing strange about it,
despite how it might seem. It was the reaction
that any first-year medical - or, perhaps more
accurately, psych - student could have recognized.
Terry was in shock.
So many emotions had thrummed through her at one
time over what had happened, that her body - in a
self-preservation instinct - refused to recognize
any of the. Her mind, instead, whirled aimlessly,
unable to focus on anything ‘major’, while
seemingly obsessed with minor things. Just as a
mother in shock might become obsessed with finding
her child’s favorite toy, or a businessman in
shock might become obsessed with tomorrow’s
scheduling conflict, Terry’s mind was incapable of
dealing with the overall condition, and was
jumping from one aspect to another.
She found herself thinking about her shoes, which
no longer fit. With obsessive car, she once again
removed them and picked them up, her movements
almost dreamy, her eyes not quite focused as she
went about the task with a single-minded attention
to every detail and movement, making her almost
graceful - in a disconnected sort of way.
That done, she found her attention focused on her
massive new bust, the weight of it, the way it
thrust outward from her chest, straining against
the fabric of the sweatshirt. She found herself
moving with a slow deliberate motion, to keep them
from jiggling or swaying too much, and she was
over-aware of the feel and heft of them. including
the fact that the sensations themselves were
actually quite pleasant. In fact, over all, she
was aware - from the male viewpoint that reigned
within the female body - that she was an
attractive-looking young woman with massive tits.
Though, as a male, he hadn’t been terribly
attracted to big busts, she was all-too-aware of
her new endowments, and the feminine connotations
they held.
All of this was ‘natural’ - but, as any
psychologist could have told her, dangerous.
Treatment was to bring the person out of emotional
shock gently but firmly, getting them to deal with
reality, no matter how painful.
Worse - Terry was still under the influence of the
hypnotic drug coursing through her new, feminine
system. As her mind focused endless on detail
after detail, it effected her much more deeply and
profoundly then it would have, otherwise, making
the obsessive qualities not only sharper and more
‘important’ - but much longer-lasting, as they
‘infiltrated’ past the purely conscious level of
normal shock, slipping into the deeper recesses of
her subconscious.
Worst of all was the fact that she wasn’t aware of
the drug’s influence. With the euphoric portion of
it’s effects gone, she wasn’t aware that she was
still deeply within the hypnotic stages. She had
no conscious control over what her brain
processed, which would have happened on a basic
level if she’d just known that she was under the
influence. Just as telling somebody not to think
of elephants would invariable cause them to think
of just that, knowing she was vulnerable would
have forced her to consciously consider each of
her thoughts for content. Unknowingly, she was
letting anything at all roll around in her
unprotected brain, without the most basic of
defenses - critical thinking - coming to her aid.
Not realizing any of this, from the shock to the
vulnerability of her psyche, the new woman could
only deal with what she knew, in the best fashion
she could - under the circumstances...
“It’s part of the test...” She said, aloud, in a
dazed sort of voice, hope slowly blossoming on her
tomboyish new features. “It’s the second half of
the test, and I’ll be changed back once I get to
the frat!”
In psychiatric circles, this was what was known as
‘denial’. A common effect of emotional shock.
“That’s it!” Terry said, snapping her fingers as
animation flowed back into her new voice. “They’re
testing me to see how I react to being female on
the trip back. I bet if I freak out over it, I
fail - that must be it!”
This was ‘rationalization’, finding a ‘reasonable’
reason why the denial must be ‘true’....
Some of the tension seeped from Terry’s athletic,
feminine body as she ‘figured out ‘ what was going
on. Now everything ‘made sense’, as far as she was
concerned. This wasn’t permanent or anything, it
was just a test, after which - pass or fail -
she’d be made male again. So - the only question
now, was what she was going to do during the test
itself.
Terry’s full new lips curved upwards in a grin.
“Hell, why not enjoy it?” She asked herself,
‘reasonably’. After all, since it was only a
short-term thing, there was no reason she couldn’t
have a little fun while she passed this latest
trial. Sure, being made suddenly female was
unnerving - but it wouldn’t have been much of a
test otherwise, would it? So, once she was ‘over’
the initial shock, she figured she might as well
milk the new situation for all it was worth, as a
sort of a ‘once in a lifetime’ chance to walk the
other side of the gender barrier. After all - the
test here was to see how she coped with the
(completely temporary) change into a female, and
by provisionally ‘embracing’ the change and
playing the role to the best of her ability, she’d
be succeeding at the test, while making it easier
for her to cope with the situation. (While it
lasted.)
Of course, she was completely oblivious to the
glaring errors in her reasoning, her higher
faculties by-passed by shock and the effect of the
Pentobarbital still coursing through her system.
So, as she started to walk up the hill in the
direction the van had vanished, Terry...
...or, as she’d decided to call herself for the
(purely intentional-yet-limited) time she was
female, ‘Terri’...
...made a conscious effort to mimic the walk that
would fit a ‘natural’ woman with this body, to the
best of her ability. Not that she ‘wanted’ to,
precisely - it just seemed important for her to do
so, for many vague but compelling reasons, not the
least of which was the fact that her body would
feel off to her, even if she attempted to walk the
way she always had as a man. On top of this was
the fact that, to a hypothetical observer, the
feminine stride would look less noteworthy then
the male stride. So, she let her legs take
shorter, more in-line strides while she made up
for the lack of motion of her feet by adding more
action to her hips - kind of a swivel-dip, her
hips rotating more while each hip dipped further
with each step. This action caused some noticeable
motion in her breasts, which she compensated for
with a sort of rolling motion of the shoulders as
she sung her arms, converting the walk from a
strong, if somewhat ‘careless’ male stride into a
smoother, more feline feminine stride.
That still didn’t keep her tits from moving within
the tight confines of her sweatshirt, of course -
despite being amazingly firm for their size, her
tits were huge, and they had all the inertia that
mass imparted. With every step she took, they
shifted from side to side, her large, bare nipples
sliding over the fabric of the sweatshirt. She
could also feel the drag and mass of the tits
themselves, something which she couldn’t have
described with exact accuracy if her life depended
on it. the closest analogy she could come up with
was to have to large, warm-water-filled balloons
tapped to her chest - but, somehow, capable of
transmitting sensations through the ‘balloons’ as
well as from the chest wall that was bearing the
weight.
It left a lot to be desired as a description,
though - much of which came as a surprise to her.
Somehow, she’d always thought of breasts as
somehow being ‘part-of-yet-separate-from’ the rest
of the body, self-contained and creating only
sensations within themselves. She was amazed to
find that it also affected the skin under her
armpits and over her shoulders, which tightened
and loosened with the movements of her new,
massive endowments. More then that, the weight and
soft mass of her breasts didn’t just affect her by
pulling forward on her chest, though they
definitely did that. The muscles in her back, legs
and waist also had to ‘compensate’ for both the
constant drag of their presence and the shifting
balance created by their movement. She couldn’t
claim to have given much prior thought to what
walking around with huge, firm tits would feel
like - but, if she had, she wouldn’t have expected
everything she was feeling as she headed up the
hill.
That was just her breasts - she didn’t even want
to get into the hundred-and-one other sensations
that her newly female body experienced from the
simple act of walking. Like the way her crotch
felt, without the bulge of genitals to ‘walk
around’, her thighs moving over each other in ways
that would have been painful as a man. Like the
way her fuller ass felt with each step - as a man,
she hadn’t really, consciously, noted that the ass
itself was musculature, and not just a
‘passenger’, but an active part of walking itself.
All this, atop smaller, slimmer feet that didn’t
seem nearly as well suited to inherent balance,
requiring more of a conscious effort and grace
then walking - or even standing - as a male did.
Terri tried to ignore all this as she walked -
ignore it, consciously, that was. She had to pay
attention to every single movement she made to
allow her to move at all in this new body. All her
old ‘habits’ for walking and balancing were
completely off for her new build, meaning that she
had to supply a certain amount of her
concentration for simple acts that she used to do
without thinking, as a man.
Which is why she didn’t notice the car until it
pulled right up beside her.
“Well, helloooooo miss!”
Terri’s heart skipped a beat as she spun around,
almost toppling over as - for a second - surprise
made her react out of now-useless instinct.
Adrenaline shot through her altered system at the
surprise, and she felt keyed-up, ready to fight or
flee....
Then she got a good look at the car and it’s
occupant, and wasn’t sure how to react.
The car was a mid-eighties Mustang convertible,
one of the less distinctive ‘Pony Cars’ Ford had
ever produced. At lest - that’s how they were when
they rolled off the assembly-line. This one,
however, was anything but factory stock.
It was painted the brightest, most eye-searing
shade of yellow that Terri had ever seen, with
enough coats of KlearKote to give it a near-mirror
shine, like the one boasted by the add-on chrome
bumpers, running-boards, and the massive ram-scoop
intake that rose from the center of the car’s
hood. The interior was a little more sedate, being
‘simple’ Zebra-skin-pattern leather.
The young man sitting in the driver’s seat and
ginning toothily at her was just as gaudy as his
car. He was short, but almost as broad as he was
tall, his oak-tanned body rippling with massive
musculature. Covering the upper half of that
musculature was the brightest, loudest, ugliest
Hawaiian shirt it had ever been Terri’s misfortune
to see, and a pair of knee-length black neoprene
swim-trunks with a lime-green stripe up the side.
A pair of iridescent Ray-Bans’ rested on the
notched lump of his once-broken nose, and his
teeth where almost surrealistic, they were so
perfectly white and even. Topping the whole
package of was a long mane of raven-black hair,
tied back into a ponytail.
“Oh, hi...” Terri said, with a relieved little
laugh. “You... startled me.”
“My mistake, then - the K-Man wouldn’t purposely
do anything unpleasant to a lovely lady like
yourself.” He said, his grin - if possible -
actually growing wider.
“K-Man?” Terri asked, trying to keep up with the
conversation while part of her was concentration
on just remaining upright against the weight of
her chest.
The guy whipped off his sunglasses, revealing a
pair of startlingly blue eyes. “Kyle Kantor, at
your service. And what can I call you?... beside
‘Gorgeous’, of course.”
“Terri.” She said, “Terri... Ritter.” She was
feeling distinctly uncomfortable - because the
‘K-Man’ seemed to be speaking directly to her
tits, his eyes firmly riveted to where her massive
new endowments were staring against the fabric of
her sweatshirt.
She was, of course, disgusted and annoyed, as well
as embarrassed and ashamed. The thing was, she had
the absolute conviction that she had to act - and
react - the way she would if she’d been born to
this body. Or, rather, the way she thought that a
woman who looked like this would act, which was a
different proposition.
In her current condition, it never occurred to her
to wonder about the origin of that absolute
conviction. Instead, she found herself compelled
to act upon it...
...so - not liking it at all, be feeling that it
was necessary - she took a deep breath and pulled
her shoulders back while she leaned forward,
practically thrusting her tits in Kyle’s face.
“I don’t suppose you’d care to give me a lift,
Kyle?” She asked, consciously - and unhappily -
pitching her voice into a smoother, more seductive
tone as she forced her full new lips into an
equally warm, seductive smile.
“Sure thing, Babe.” He told her tits. “Hop on in.”
Terri headed around the other side of the car to
climb in. Aware that Kyle was watching her, she
‘ducked it up’ and walked the way she thought
women did. Being on the inside, however, and
unable to see her own walk from an outside
perspective, she had no idea that she was
over-doing it, over-emphasizing the roll and sway
of her hips, walking with one foot after the other
in an in-line glide full of feline grace that
looked damned seductive.
Opening the door to the car, she slid into the
seat and smiled over at Kyle. “I’m heading to the
Alpha fraternity. Do you know where that is?”
“Sure do, honey.” Kyle said. “Say, you droppin’ by
to see your boyfriend.”
“Of course not!” She said, almost indignantly, out
of reflex - then cursed herself, silently.
“Oh - so what’re you doing there?” Kyle asked,
flashing another thousand-watt smile.
“Going to a party.” Terri said, coming up with the
explanation on the spur of the moment.
“Oh, a party girl - I like that.” Kyle said. “As a
matter of fact, that’s where I’m going - me and
some friends are having a party at my place, just
a few blocks from the campus. I promise you, our
party’s bigger and better. Why don’t you hang with
us for awhile? Then, whenever you get bored, you
can head over to the Alpha house from there.”
Damn. The last thing she wanted to do was spend
time with Kyle and his friends. But she couldn’t
refuse - now that she’d said she was a real party
girl, she had to accept the offer of a bigger and
better part. She couldn’t turn it down, because it
would be out of character.
Mentally grimacing, she smiled brightly. “Sure,
sounds great!”
Again, it didn’t even occur to her to wonder why
she felt such a powerful need to stay in
‘character’ - especially since that ‘character’
was being created out of stray comments made by
her and Kyle. If she’d been capable of thinking
straight, she would have realized that she could
have found a hundred of different ways to weasel
out of the party - but, right now, the thought had
never even occurred to her. Kyle thought she was a
party girl - so now she had to be one.
Dropping the car into gear, he headed towards his
place.
“Hey.” Terri said, to make conversation. “If you
live near the University, what are you doing way
out here?”
Kyle grinned. “Well.... Promise not to tell, but I
was seeing my connection. A little of the fun
stuff to party with. You must know what I mean.”
She did - and winced, internally. The thought that
she could use the drugs as an excuse to avoid the
party didn’t come to her at all. Instead...
“Sure, I know - Like I said, I’m a real party
girl.” She said, brightly, not even recalling that
it was Kyle who’d defined her as one, not herself.
Now that he thought she was also a user, Kyle
dropped the circumspect manner. “Hey, that’s
great. Like I said, it’s a real party, and we went
whole hog on this. Grass, hash, oil, ‘cid,
‘shrooms - the works. Even got some exxtacy.”
“Hey, that’s great!” Terri said, feigning
enthusiasm out of misplaced ‘need’ to say within
the spurious ‘character’ she was unconsciously
creating for ‘herself’.
“We aim to please.” The K-Man said with another
blinding grin as he guided the speeding
bright-yellow missile into the city itself,
hurtling towards the campus. “We also got just
about every type of liquor known to man, too.”
With skilled precision that bordered on a
performance, he slammed on the breaks and cranked
the wheel had, sending the car into a long, wide
skid that left it aimed at the driveway to a
sprawling old building badly in need of a coat of
paint. Gunning the engine, Kyle shot into the
driveway and parked behind a big ‘Monster’ truck,
the last in a long line of vehicles that filled
the backyard of the house, turned into a
churned-up parking lot for the latest of what was
obviously a long line of parties. The big frame
building was already shuddering under the heavy
blows of bass from a powerful stereo, and Terri
had the feeling that Kyle blew all his money on:
1)His car 2) His stereo 3)Booze and 4)Drugs.
Not necessarily in that order.
Wanting to whimper and run away, Terri ‘had no
choice’ but to act as if she was looking forward
to partying, pasting a smile on her new lips and
swinging out of the car with feigned enthusiasm.
With the same over-stated, sexy jiggle-and-sway,
she followed Kyle up the walk and into the side
door, which led to a ‘mud room’, where fans where
stirring air heavy with the scent of three Glade
Plug-ins.
The reason was immediately apparent when Kyle
opened the inner door and escorted her in.
Terri didn’t know what hit her the hardest - the
air, heavy with a haze of smoke the smelled evenly
of pot and cigarettes, or the heavy driving bass
rolling through the house.
“Hey, everybody - this is Terri. She’s gonna hang
with us for awhile.” Kyle informed the people
lounging around the huge main room of the strange
‘house’. There were maybe two dozen people all
told, two thirds of whom were male. Some had the
‘hippie’ look around them, others looked
border-line grunge, and still others looked oddly
preppy for such a gathering. There was also two
guys and a girl who shared a ‘semi-surfer’ look
similar to Kyle’s own...
...and something ‘clicked’ in Terri’s mind as she
saw the woman. About her own age, the woman’s
‘semi-surfer’ look was remarkably similar to
Terri’s own outfit, with the exception that she
was wearing pedal-pusher jeans instead of
full-length, and a pair of sandals. There was also
a good chance that the sweatshirt and jeans were
worn over swim wear, but that didn’t show.
It was more then just the outfit, though - the
woman had a similar athletic build to Terri’s own,
though not nearly well endowed. Her hair was more
brown the blonde, though not truly brunette, and
it was somewhat longer then Terri’s, though of the
same ‘careless’ styling - or lack thereof.
Though she didn’t realize it, the instant Terri
saw the woman, something deep in her mind said
‘There’s who you should model your ‘character’
after.’
Noticed Terri looking at the woman... and sighed.
“Oh, sorry - I didn’t know.”
Terri blinked, confused - then realized what
conclusion Kyle had drawn.
It was the perfect ‘excuse’... but Terri couldn’t
take it. She couldn’t even consider it. Instead,
unwillingly, she giggled. “Oh, geez, no - I’m
strictly into guys, Kyle.”
Great - now she needed and excuse to explain why
she’d been looking so hard at the other woman. She
came up with one on the spur of the moment.
“I was just wondering what make-up she buys.”
Terri said, having noticed the dark-blonde woman
was wearing a pale lipstick and mascara. “I’ve
never been able to find make-up that I look good
in, which is why I don’t wear any.”
“Well, why don’t we ask her?” Kyle said, grinning
again. He motioned the woman over. “Terri, meet
Nicki. She’s the co-owner of this wonderful
abode.”
Nicki smiled somewhat wryly. “If you wanna call it
that - it used to be a Cadets’ barracks.” She held
out a callused, tanned hand. “Hey, Terri,
goodameecha. Come on in and grab a drink.”
“Sure.” Terri said - then, since she’d brought it
up with Kyle, was ‘forced’ to say. “I was just
saying to Kyle that I was wondering what make-up
you use. I’ve never been able to find anything
that really suits me.”
Nicki stepped back and eyed Terri with a wry look.
“Lemme guess - you also have a hard time finding
clothes that suit you.. and jewelry... and a
hairstyle... No offense, but if I looked like you,
I wouldn’t be downplaying myself.”
Click. ‘Model yourself after Nicki...’
“Well...” Terri ‘admitted’. “The truth is, I grew
up with five brothers, raised by a single father.
I really haven’t had much of a chance to be, you
know... ‘girlish’.”
Nicki laughed. “Well, hell - that’s do it.” She
cocked her head, eyeing Terri more
‘professionally’. “Except for the bust, you look
to be pretty close to my size. What say we see
what we can do for you?”
‘Shit - why are they doing this to me?’ Terri
lamented. “Sure - that’d be great!”
“Follow me, then.” Nicki said. With ‘no choice’,
Terri did as she was bidding, following Nicki
through the group of people - most of whom where
staring at her, unabashedly - and into the
muddy-blonde’s room.
Shutting the door, Nicki turned to Terri. “So, the
first thing we need to decide, is what look you’re
going for. Personally, I like these parties Kyle
throws because of the chances of getting laid
without having to waste time and money going out.
‘Course, if I had a body like yours, it’s be a
hell of a lot easier.”
‘Oh, shit...’ Terri went cold inside, and had to
fight to keep herself from showing it. “Yeah,
well, to tell you the truth... that’s why I like
parties, too.”
“Great!” Nicki said. “Let’s see what we can do for
you. Go ahead and get undressed.”
Now Terri was feeling really, really awkward,
uncomfortable - and scared. She ‘couldn’t’ let any
of that show, though, as she pretended to be
nonchalant as she undressed. The lack of a bra
made Nicki’s eyebrow rise - the boxers, however,
she had to comment on.
“Lemme guess - your dad was a firm believer in
‘hand-me-downs’.”
“Yeah... With just him, money was tight. I didn’t
even know they sold ‘womens’ clothing until I
turned eighteen and could afford to buy my own
clothes - then I felt weird buying anything other
then what I was used to wearing.” Terri said.
“You really do need my help.” Was Nicki’s
response, said over her shoulder as she rooted
through her closet. Unfortunately, she wanted to
chat... and Terri wasn’t exactly prepared for what
Nicki’s ‘chatting’ consisted in. though she was
consciously aware of her situation, Terri hadn’t
considered all the ramifications of it, and had
never really considered what ‘two women’ might
talk about while alone...
“So, how the hell did you manage a sex life with a
bunch of protective older brothers hanging
around?”
Terri winced. “Actually.... Until the past few
months, since I’ve come to University, I haven’t
had a sex life. I’m still really new to this...”
Nicki winced. “Poor girl! Guess that’s why you hit
the party scene - looking to make up for lost
time.”
“Oh, yeah!” Terri said, feigning the enthusiasm
she figured that her character required... while
wanting to run out of the house and to the Alpha
frat, to get changed back this instant. Just the
thought of having sex with guys, even
hypothetically, was making her skin crawl.
“Well, lemme give you some advise.” Nicki said,
still rooting for the clothing she was looking
for. “Sex can be the greatest pastime in the
world, as long as you don’t get to hung up on it.
Most girls seem to want to hang all sort of
complications on sex - but that just spoils it,
the way I see it. No reason to ruin perfectly good
sex by getting emotionally involved with it, or
the guy. It feels great, it’s fun to do, and it
doesn’t have to have any messy after-effects, if
you don’t drag them into it.”
“Yeah - that’s the sort of thing I’m looking for.”
Terri agreed, feeling nauseous.
“Good for you. Here’s some more advice for you,
then. Life’s a hell of a lot easier if you aim at
playing the guys. Let ‘em know you’ll give ‘em
just what they want, as long as they give you what
you want, too. Don’t be afraid to use your body -
and, let me tell you, you’ve got a hell of a body
to use.” She paused. “Ah, here we go...”
She handed Terri a bundle of clothing, and Terri -
internally horrified and disgusted, externally
‘excited’, dressed.
First, there was the underwear - a pair of
pastel-blue high-cut bikini briefs with lace
trimming at the top. Terri felt utterly mortified
to be putting on such a feminine undergarment, and
her acting ability wasn’t enough to hide the low,
slow blush rising in her face - but, with her
story, that seemed natural to Nicki, who merely
thought Terri was so used to dressing in men’s
clothes from her years of wearing her brother’s
hand-me-downs.
Over those feminine panties went a faded blue
denim skirt, with natural leather accent
waist-band - much to short for Terri’s taste,
barely coming to mid-thigh, but...
“What good is sexy panties if there’s never a
chance of showing them?” Nicki quipped.
Just the beginning…
IF YOU WANT TO READ THIS REST OF THIS STORY, IT
CAN ONLY BE FOUND AT:
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