This choice: Martina felt a flood of new memories, fill her, laying out her history. • Go Back...Chapter #4Martina felt a flood of new memories overwhelming. by: Mr. George   Dizzyingly, she fought to keep her balance. The heels felt alien and unstable, as she walked like a baby deer's first steps. Arms oustretched for balance, ripping open her blouse hoping for some stuffing to be visible. Hoping for some rational explanation, Martin was faced with his own cleavage, framed by the cups of her new bra.
Worse she could feel them too! The tight band around her chest constraining her breathing, the straps digging into her shoulders. She could feel the lacy trim around her thighs. Either panties, or decorative tights, she didn't know which prospect was more terrifying.
Desperately, she tugged at the hem of her skirt. Needing it to hide those coltish legs, so smooth, slim and feminine. They had to be part of the illusion.
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Everything told her, she was a woman. But, she knew she was Martin. Pushing back against the memories, she felt the dizziness recede.
Martina's mind span, as she looked at the tiny scattered buttons, knowing they'd come from her blouse. Checking her reflection, she tried to estimate her age. A voice sniggered from inside, Early twenties. That same knowledge she'd rejected taunted her. She'd just graduated from head of her class from Doshisha University, and a job as secretary was frankly beneath her.
But, it exposed her to English in a far more intense manner than any course in Japan could've provided.
Taking a few calming breaths, she hoped it'd make more sense with some coffee inside her. Unsure she could trust her own perceptions, she left the bathroom. Returning to her desk, if it was some delusion, it was convincing.
She wondered if Martin was the delusion, and that seemed to make more sense. She felt the shift of her hips, the eyes of the men on her. The shimmy of her arse beneath the fabric of her taut skirt.
Passing familiar faces, she nodded a greeting to the men of the sales team she knew. However, it was a cold rebuff, that showed on their faces. The blank confusion, and lack of recognition telling her, they didn't know her!
Worse, the leering gazes that were returned made her want to rage! Openly focusing on her tits. The fantasies dancing behing their eyes were graphic nightmares summoned from the depths of her fears!
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Sitting as low as she could at her desk, she wondered how to close her blouse. Random hopes of paperclips or staplers sprang desperately to mind. Anything that'd end those lewd, disturbing glances.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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