This choice: Angie, the girlfriend of Bradley Owens, Jr. • Go Back...Chapter #5Angie, the girlfriend of Bradley Owens, Jr. by: Mr. George   Martin woke in satin sheets, turning and moaning softly as he woke. It was only as he woke that the wrongness built. His body felt different, as his eyes snapped open. Head darting from side to side, he realised he wasn't in his old, familiar bedroom. He must've been blind drunk to not remember anything of his leaving do, or going home with some secretary.
A second glance told him, this was no secretary's home. The room was too ornate, too stylish, simply too large. Looking beyond the bed, he spotted a dress casually abandoned on the floor. It provided no real clue, there was a company badge beside the dress, but nothing more.
Still afraid of being discovered, by some husband/boyfriend/fiancé he slipped from the bed.
- - - - -
It was then that Martin realised how fucked he truly was! Silky smooth legs emerged first, and the rest of the body followed that pattern with a full bum, thinner waist, and a bust. Martin caught his reflection in the full-length mirror that filled the wardrobe door. Bobbing her head from side to side, Martin couldn't deny this was her body. That woman's head moved at his command, her expression was the mask of confusion and fear that he felt.
She was breathing in short rapid gasps, as her vision started to grey and spin. Slumping back onto the bed. She bounced, the extra heft to her rump cushioning the fall. Terrified of fainting, she slowed her breathing, and lowered her head. A mane of hair cascaded forward blocking the bedroom from her sight, and ensuring she could only spot her fulsome cleavage, and smooth legs beyond. Closing her eyes, she blocked those out and took and held breath after deeper breath until the dizziness receded.
Martin still had no idea what was going on, as her sharp elbows dug into those plump perfect thighs.
The constant reminders of her new flesh were a distraction, so glowering at the abandonded dress, she snatched it off the bedroom floor. Needing to put it on, just getting dressed should feel normal. Perhaps wake her from this nightmare/fantasy... whatever. Even as she squeezed into the outfit, it felt bizarre and too real to be her imagination.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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