This choice: Breath-taking beauty, and held away. • Go Back...Chapter #4Breath-taking beauty, and held away. by: Mr. George   The tight constriction of the corset is impossible to ignore. Nor the rise and fall of your bust, with every breath. She's certainly... You're certainly blessed. You could certainly do without the stockings and suspenders. You remind yourself with a calm you don't feel. This is meant to be a fantasy to be indulged and enjoyed.
Everything feels more alive, even the air smells sweeter. You wonder if that's just you new senses, and if you'll discover things taste differently now... with different taste buds. From the periphery of your vision, you see other changes. Subtle changes to the room.
Whirling around to your dresser, you feel the slosh of your bust, as it catches up, then keeps going. You'll have to get used to that, you tell yourself. Though not for long, the dresser now has a three-fold mirror atop it rather than your books.
A few, expensive perfumes and make-up things are there, along with a couple of hardback books. Well, you guess they're expensive from their ornate bottles, and so forth.
Sitting at a stool, you aren't surprised to find it's at the perfect height for you. The perfect distance to see your face from every angle. It's oddly comforting, as you find various names swimming to the surface. Your fantasy woman knowing how to make her look her best. You squirm where you sit, wondering how superficial you were as a guy.
As you squirm, you wonder how much of that is the stool's padding, and how much your own full rump. You scowl at your reflection, a woman for only a few seconds and already wondering if your bum is too big. Perhaps your fantasy is as superficial as your were... No! As you are... You will return to being Nate, once this experiment is over.
Flicking through the top hardback, you find the pages are thick and stiff. There aren't any photos in it, and riffling through you see only simple black and white sketches added to illustrate there instructions.
You slam it closed, when you realise it's a book about becoming a beautician, and applying make-up. Your college course on French, Japanese and international business. Well, it seems like you're majoring in becoming a beautician.
Finding yourself drawn to admire your make-up, the subtle colours, and the shade of your lipstick. You rise from the stool with a start wanting to escape those thoughts... that grow more interesting, more intriguing, as you admire your reflection.
Not caring if you make a display of yourself, you rush to the window. You need a breath of fresh air, this is one shock after another.
"Smart, but not as smart as me." Your old voice seems to whisper from nowhere. Sticking your head out the window, you take as deep a breath as you can. Only the tight corset limiting your gulps. A zephyr slips over your exposed flesh, and you feel it goosebump in protest. Too much exposed flesh. Your sudden appearance also draws a few eyes, and it's the male ones that keep looking. Ducking down and retreating back inside, you both crack your head against the window frame, and your bust against the window sill. The impact setting the girls in motion, your hands rising to shield them, and heave them back in, if they escape.
Sinking to the floor, your back to the wall. Your legs clutched against your chest. You can only take the shallowest of breaths. Allowing your legs to splay out in front of you. There were more changes out there, too.
Your errant lewd curiosity had had wider consequences than you realised. Shutting your eyes, against all those changes, you try to bring them into some kind of coherent order. You dismiss the eyelashes, you feel fluttering aching to open.
Then it hits you in waves. The tree in the yard wasn't so tall. The students dress was more staid. The buildings looked fresher... newer...
The air truly was cleaner and clearer. With a start your eyes snap back open. You hadn't seen any cars... or any modern technology. Shaking your head, even as you knew it was true. You'd seen a buggy... a horse-drawn buggy... and the nearby road wasn't paved.
You realise, your desire to see your fantasy woman has taken you back in time to when she... when you existed.
"A woman knows her place." That same irritating voice from before... from your future taunted out of the empty air.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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