Chapter #3Oh Captain, my Captain. by: JackHalf   While Wren was engaged in her enforced dance practice in the backroom of the store, Mike steered his Olds-Ma-Buick into the parking lot.
Disheveled and half-awake, he stumbled across the lot, nearly dropping his coffee and lunch bucket at various points. "It's too early for this shit," he grumbled as he juggled his burden in his hands while retrieving his keys to the store's front door.
Normally, he'd have hit snooze a few times and headed in later, possibly after the Sun had risen, but Wren had been giving him a lot of crap about being late and how it set a poor example for the rest of the staff. So, he had decided to be a good boy and show up on time for a few weeks to shut her yap.
Locking the door behind him, he headed into the manager's office, taking a swig of coffee as he set his belongings down. Pulling up his khaki trousers that had slid down a bit, he pulled the computer out of sleep mode and began to scroll through the corporate e-mails.
As Mike took another swig of coffee, he noticed his phone vibrating on the desk as a text message arrived. "That better not be Kyle calling off again..." he mumbled as he picked it up. He frowned a little, seeing that it was indeed from Kyle.
"Oh, Captain, my Captain. Would you be the Captain of the squad?" he read aloud. There was a YouTube link at the bottom. Not giving it a second thought, Mike tapped it causing it to play on his phone screen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTTLqIBM...
As the line-up of gorgeous, smiling, sexy NBA dancers stomped to the music, Mike, being a normal, red-blooded American man, couldn't help but smile. "Yowza..." he whispered as he smiled. As the camera panned down, showing the ladies' fancy, stiletto-borne footwork and legs to great effect, Mike adjusted his position a bit in his task chair. He could feel his dick hardening in imagined anticipation.
He wanted to respond to Kyle, telling him that the vid was a nice find, but found himself unable to do so. The video began to repeat, playing over and over. Mike's smile faded, as he found himself unable to do anything other than sit there and watch the video. "What...what is this..." he whispered as he focused on the short, sexy little brunette dancer at the far left of the lineup. "I can't stop..."
At around the 10th or 11th replay, Mike began to grow dizzy, swaying in his chair. A bright, gradually increasing light enveloped him, with him losing all sense of self and sensation for the briefest of moments.
Mike exhaled like a whale breaching the surface as the light faded, gasping for breath. He started to regain his composure, but realized immediately that his breathing felt different...he felt different. Something was very, very wrong.
He felt lighter, smaller...smoother...exposed.
"Wha...?!?!" he gasped as he looked down at his seated body, dropping his phone as he got a good look at himself. A pair of smooth, gorgeous legs emerged from a pair of tight white stiletto-heeled knee boots. He could see a pair of open hands, their delicate fingers moving as he willed them too, held out before him. He could see his chest heaving with each breath, a pair of perky breasts straining against the fabric of a sports bra style garment.
The sensation of the erection that had been forming was gone, replaced by the tight, smooth feel of a pair of white booty shorts pulled taut against the void that had replaced his member. He could feel a pair of large, dangling hoop earrings affixed to his earlobes.
Unless his senses were deceiving him, he now had the body of the pretty little brunette dancing cheerleader he'd been watching in the vid mere seconds beforehand!!!
Glancing up at the mirror hanging on the wall that the lady managers used to check themselves before heading out to the sales floor, he saw his shocked, bespectacled male head sitting atop the neck of that dancer's body!!!  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 JackHalf (UN: jackhalf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
JackHalf has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author