A wife notices that her husband seems to be always checking out other women. She finds a way to let him know just how it feels to be on the receiving end of such unwanted attention...

This is another old BB story which is posted here, although it has been posted on other boards and forums before.

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

An active volcano would not have fumed so much as Brenda. It always got to her. At first, she’d considered that she was just being jealous, that her husband’s roving eye bothered her because she felt threatened by other women. But now, after several months, she was certain that it wasn’t because he was jealous — it was because Dennis’ ogling really bothered her. She slapped him lightly. “Stop that,” she hissed.

Dennis turned his gaze back toward his dinner and his wife. “What?” he asked innocently. He knew his wife had caught him.

“You know what! You were gawking at her.”

Dennis sighed. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset? I mean, all I did was look at her.”

Brenda scowled. “Your tongue was dragging on the floor.”

“It was not. I just noticed that she had a nice dress.” Dennis put a bite of lasagne in his mouth to try to end this conversation. His wife had always been insanely jealous, even though he’d never given her reason to worry. Not in their college years while dating, not during their engagement, and certainly not in the year and a half they’d been married.

But Brenda was not mollified. The air during the remainder of dinner was icy cold. And once, when Brenda saw his eyes tracking yet another pretty young thing, her eyes shot daggers at Dennis.

The evening was little better. When they got home, Brenda ignored him, leaving him alone on the couch while she telephoned her best friend. When Dennis glanced into the living room, where Brenda perched with the phone glued to her ear, she gave him an angry glare and closed the door in his face. Dennis sighed, knowing that it was going to be a long night. And there was no chance of any romance.

**********

“Good morning,” Dennis said cheerfully as he sat down at the breakfast table. Brenda sat across the table, reading the paper. She didn’t even acknowledge his greeting.

Dennis frowned when he glanced at the table. Usually, Brenda had a glass of juice and cup of coffee waiting at his place, with a plate of eggs or a bowl of cereal. Today, there was nothing.

Dennis glanced at Brenda, and saw the impassive look on her face. He walked to the refrigerator and poured himself some juice, then got a cup of coffee. Glancing over his shoulder at his wife, Dennis poured himself a bowl of Grape Nuts, and then got some milk and sugar. With his breakfast, he sat down again.

Brenda still didn’t so much as glance up from the paper.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Dennis said, sounding penitent. “I didn’t know it bothered you so much.”

Brenda turned the page. “Hmmm,” was all she answered.

Dennis felt encouraged that she’d at least answered. “I’ll try to stop.”

“Hmmm.” She turned another page.

“What’s the plan for today?” Dennis steered the conversation to something safe, even though he already knew the answer. Saturday morning, they always ran errands.

“There are a couple of errands I want to run.” She didn’t even look up as she spoke.

Dennis knew something was up. She seemed to be still seething. But at least she was talking again. That was progress. Maybe some flowers would help her forgive him. He could go get them while she was running errands — based on past experience, Dennis knew that she’d be at the mall for a long time.

**********

Dennis was barely dressed when he heard Brenda’s car pulling into the driveway. He frowned. That was very odd. She’d only been gone — he glanced at his watch — an hour? The mall in an hour? And that was counting driving! Well, maybe he’d make dinner reservations for tonight since he hadn’t gotten flowers. That should do the trick.

Brenda met him at the door. “We’re going out,” she announced.

Dennis frowned. “Uh, where?”

He got no answer. Brenda had already disappeared into their bedroom. No packages from the store. A trip to the mall in record time. And now, she had plans to go out. He trudged toward the bedroom.

And nearly bumped into Brenda. She was carrying his small duffel bag and her beach bag. “Well, let’s go,” she commanded as she marched past him toward the door. They got in her car, and she drove like the world depended on getting somewhere in a big hurry.

“Where are we going?” Dennis finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Brenda didn’t even glance at him. “You’ll see.” She shut up again, leaving Dennis frustrated and confused.

As the car pulled into the Bikini Beach parking lot, Dennis’ curiosity went into overdrive. “What’s going on? A water park?”

Brenda smiled, an enigmatic little grin. “I thought a day at a water park would be fun.”

Dennis nodded, only half-understanding. “But ... Bikini Beach? I’ve never heard of this place. Is it any good?” He felt his heart pounding, contemplating the possibilities. And as they drove through the parking lot, he saw lots of young ladies walking across the asphalt toward the entrance gate.

Brenda smiled. “Sheila told me it’s a great place. Besides, with a name like Bikini Beach, you should enjoy it.”

Dennis frowned. “I thought you didn’t like it if I admired girls.”

Brenda’s smile seemed to shift subtly. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses, unable to betray the mischievous twinkle. “Well, I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Besides,” she said, “you’re the one who keeps saying I need to be more open minded.” She tossed him the gym bag and picked up her clothes. Then, strangely, she retrieved a bag from the trunk.

As they approached the ticket booth, Brenda nudged him toward the gate. “Just wait here. This is my treat.”

Dennis walked confidently toward the gate, already watching the shapely young ladies entering the park. Masked by his sunglasses, his eyes roved far and wide, noting every curve of the attractive girls who passed his way. He smiled his warmest, most friendly smile toward the girls. For some strange reason, though, some of the girls giggled as they walked past him. He shrugged it off.

Brenda walked to the ticket window uneasily. There was no line — most of the patrons had passes. She looked up — directly at an old woman.

“May I help you?” the old woman asked simply.

Brenda felt a touch of uncertainty. “Um,” she stammered, “my friend Sheila told me that, um...”

The old woman smiled. “That this is a magical place? That it can help you with your husband’s wandering eye?” She watched the shock register on Brenda’s face. “Sheila told you the truth.” A warm smiled crossed the old woman’s face. “And you have everything you need?” The woman punched a couple of buttons on her computer. “One day, or the weekend?”

Brenda thought for a second. “One day should do it. I hope.”

The old woman smiled, then the special printer spit out a couple of passes. “Enjoy your stay at the park. And make sure you shower before you use the facilities.”

Brenda signed the credit card receipt, finding that her hand was shaking. She put the receipt in her purse, then took the tickets, then tried to smile. “Thank you.” She stepped away from the window, squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, then marched to where Dennis was waiting and handed him a ticket. “The men’s locker is over there,” she said, pointing the way. “And you’re supposed to use the shower before you go into the park.” She nudged him to the gate, where she swiped her pass and entered. Dennis smiled, swiped his pass, and walked into Bikini Beach. “I’ll see you in a couple of minutes,” Brenda said, giving him a quick kiss. Dennis noticed a spring in her step as she walked into the women's locker.

With a shrug, Dennis entered the men’s locker. He frowned at first, noticing how small it seemed. Only a couple of dozen lockers for storing clothes. Then he smiled to himself. All the better. He stripped, placing his clothes in a vacant locker, then pulled on his swimming trunks. He started to step out of the locker room, but then remembered that he was supposed to shower.

The warm spray felt peculiarly invigorating, like a thousand little fingers massaging his muscles. Dennis smiled as a warm tingly sensation flowed through his body, easing every little ache. He stayed in the shower a very long time, enjoying it. So relaxing was the shower that he didn’t notice the faint pink mist rising around him, the slight tickle as his hair spilled from his head, cascading behind him in wavy dark locks which reached to his mid-back.

As Dennis reached his arm across his body to open the shower curtain, he felt something peculiar pushing into his arm — something soft and warm. And at the same time, he felt something pressing against his chest. A wet something swished against his back, while his arm reached and reached — and still came short of the curtain. Still tranquilized by the wonderful shower, Dennis’ brain began processing these conflicting and strange sensory inputs. Something didn’t seem quite right, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Dennis turned his head, making the wet swishing worse, and glanced at the curtain. His mouth opened, shocked, as he saw the tiny delicate hand reaching from his arm. From his shorter, more slender, finer, hairless arm. A scream started, and choked off. Dennis retracted his hand, turning it so he could more plainly see it. It was a woman’s hand. Of that, there was absolutely no doubt. Fine and delicate and bearing inch-long fingernails, his hand was changed.

Dennis yanked the curtain open, shocked and angry, wondering how this illusion was done and determined to end it. And as his hand yanked the curtain, he felt it again — the soft pillow-like obstruction. This time, his eyes tracked down, his head tilting and causing that strange wet sensation on his back again.

Dennis couldn’t suppress the scream this time. On his chest were ... boobs! Nice big round firm bare boobs, capped with big round nipples. Huge boobs! Dennis’ hands shot to them, cupping the impossible orbs in his impossibly changed hands, feeling their heft in his hands while the sensations of his chest told him undeniably that they were real. He stared, open-mouthed, at the breasts, feeling his own fingers pressing against their flesh, feeling the warmth of his skin against his own skin.

A sudden horrifying thought crashed into Dennis’ mind — if he had boobs on his chest, then down below ... Holding his breath, afraid of what he might find, Dennis peered between his boobs, through the valley of cleavage, down. Down his torso, down his abdomen. His impossibly flat abdomen! Though Dennis was not a fitness freak, he did keep himself in good shape. But now — his abdomen was flat. Incredibly flat and smooth. And ... Dennis gasped. His swimming suit was altered, changed. Instead of his light blue trunks, his hips supported the bands of a powder blue thong, a tiny little female bikini bottom. A new scream sounded, echoing strangely in Dennis’ ears, sounding totally foreign to him. Even as his brain struggled with the reality that the feminine-sounding scream came from him, he stared wide-eyed at the flat emptiness of the bikini bottom. He was missing his willy.

It took several minutes for Dennis to regain something resembling composure. Something had happened to him. He took a deep breath to steady himself, flinching at the unfamiliar swaying sensation on his chest as his boobs moved with his breathing.

“Dennis? Are you ready yet?”

Dennis gasped. Brenda. She was out there — waiting for him. Panic time. What was he going to do?

“Dennis, dear,” she continued calling into the locker, “I know there have been some changes, so why don’t you come out and let me have a look?”

Dennis was caught between two emotions. She’d done this. Somehow, she’d done this to him. And as the anger simmered, he felt profoundly embarrassed, ashamed of what he’d become. Ashamed of having to face Brenda looking like this.

But he didn’t have any choice, did he? Not really. Finally, he crossed his arms in front of his new breasts and peeked around the corner.

“Come one out,” she called soothingly when she spied him.

Dennis shook his head. “Nope,” he said stubbornly, his impossible feminine voice ringing in his ears, a rich soft contralto which sounded oh-so-sexy.

Brenda took a step and grabbed his arm. Dennis prepared to fight her, but he realized that, in this body, he was much weaker, and she dragged him from the locker room.

“Now let’s have a look at you,” she said after she tugged him away from the locker room. She took a half-step back, and she gazed at him, her eyes taking in his entire body from head to toe.

“Young lady,” a stern voice called out. Dennis spun, not from being called upon, but because this new person was going to see him — changes and all.

The old woman marched up to Dennis. “Young lady,” she said again, “I will have none of that in my park!”

Dennis glanced at the woman, then at Brenda, then back at the woman. His face was a mixture of shame and puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”

With surprising strength, the old woman spun him, so he was facing a mirror. “There is no topless sunbathing at this park.” She held up a bikini top, skimpy as the bottom Dennis was wearing, and matching color. “Put this on please.”

Dennis stared at himself in the mirror while Brenda, with a catlike grin, tied the bikini top to him. He was ... gorgeous. By his own standards, he was incredibly attractive. Long wavy brunette hair, soft hazel eyes, pert little nose, soft sensuous lips. Moderately tall — Dennis guessed maybe five-foot eight or five-foot nine. Dennis’ eyes went to the feet, and then up the long sexy legs, pausing at the round hips. His new narrow waist seemed tiny, and greatly exaggerated his hips, making his figure seem all the more curvy. And above his waist ... boobs. Nothing but boobs. Large firm breasts, guaranteed to catch the eye of any red-blooded man. They were barely covered by the tiny bikini, leaving little to the imagination as the taut strings pulled them into a wonderous display of cleavage.

Dennis turned to Brenda and the old woman. “Why?” was all he could ask.

The old woman looked impassively at him. “This is a private club for women. I created it so women wouldn’t have to feel stared at by such as yourself.” Dennis’ mouth dropped open — how had this woman known that? She smiled as recognition dawned on him. “Oh, yes. I know your type. Well, as long as you’re in my park, you’ll wear this form so you won’t be so tempted to gawk and ogle my patrons.”

Dennis stared at her for several seconds, then at Brenda. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he demanded.

Brenda smiled at him. “It’s time you learned a little lesson about ogling women.”

Dennis stared at her, then at the old woman. A smug little grin crept over his face. “But there aren’t any guys here. So no-one will be staring at me. I can just leave and end this little game.”

The woman smiled, an innocent smile that nonetheless sent a chill through Dennis’ spine. “The change doesn’t wear off until about twelve hours after your pass expires.”

Dennis’ jaw dropped again. “Then I’m stuck ... until tonight?”

Brenda’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Assuming I bought you a one day pass.”

The old woman was walking off, her job done. But then she remembered something, and turned back. “Oh, and young lady?” Dennis looked at her, his mouth hanging open. “If I were you, I wouldn’t ride the speed slides. Not in that bikini. Unless you enjoy having to keep putting it back on.” She turned again and vanished around a corner.

Brenda’s eyes gleamed. “Now, since you’re stuck as a girl for a while, I think we should call you something besides Dennis.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “How about Denise? It’s close enough, but much more fitting than that other name.”

**********

“Well, how was it?” Brenda asked as they walked back toward the lockers.

Denise was smiling. “Not too bad. Once I forgot about the change, it was pretty fun.”

Brenda was surprised at how well Denise was acting. She’d expected a lot of resentment and anger. Instead, Denise was almost — bubbly! Very pleased. And try as she might to be angry about that, Brenda couldn’t help admitting that she, too, had had a very good day. This park was ... fun! “Well, I guess it’s time to get dressed.”

Denise almost missed a step. Brenda saw the smile disappear, replaced with a worried frown. “Uh,” Denise said hesitantly, “can’t I just wrap up in a towel to go home?”

Brenda tried to suppress her wicked grin. “No. Because we’re not going home.” She watched as the color drained from Denise’s face. “That’s right. We’re going out. I’ve got reservations for dinner, and then I thought we’d go dancing.”

Denise looked as panic-stricken as she felt. “But....” She tried to find something to say. “I just want to go home,” she finally said.

Brenda shook her head. “Nope. We’re going out.” She led Denise into the men’s locker and retrieved her clothes, then led her, still protesting, into the women’s locker room. Denise glanced around, suddenly feeling self-conscious around the other women. Brenda saw this and laughed. “Oh, come on. It’s just us girls in here.” She untied Denise’s top. “Now let’s get dressed.”

Brenda quickly shed her swim suit, then opened her locker and began to dress. Denise gulped, glanced around, and finished disrobing. As she started to pull on the bra which Dennis’ t-shirt had become, Brenda grasped her hand. “Uh, uh,” she said, shaking her head.

“But ... I have to get dressed,” Denise protested. “I can’t go out like this!”

Brenda looked up and down Denise’s naked body, eliciting a blush from Denise. Then Brenda grinned. “I guess you can’t. And you can’t very well go out in those ... clothes!” She frowned in disgust at the clothes Dennis’ duds had become. With a vicious smile, Brenda pulled a bag from her locker and set it down beside Denise. “Here. Wear these.”

Denise knew she’d been had as she pulled the bright red dress from the bag. Brenda had this all planned, right down to the lacy bra and matching panties. Down to the nylons and high-heeled shoes. Down to the jewelry and cosmetics in the bag. Denise looked up, knowing that Brenda had gotten the upper hand.

Brenda finished stuffing Denise’s old clothes into her bag. “Come on.” She saw the look of anguish on Denise’s face. “It’s that — or nothing.”

Denise gave up. There was no way out of this mess. With Brenda’s help, she got dressed. It took quite a while, she realized, especially since she wasn’t used to these ... feminine clothes! The panties weren’t so bad; a bit lacy and soft, but not so much different from Dennis’ underwear. But the bra — damn if she could get it on right; it just didn’t feel like it fit properly. And it pushed her boobs up and together, making them look even larger and accentuating her cleavage. Denise felt like crying — the damned things were so big, and then to wear something to accentuate that!

The nylons were a big surprise. Denise didn’t quite know what to expect; their silky softness felt so — exciting. And then the dress. That tiny short red dress. Denise pulled it on, but then couldn’t figure out how to get herself zipped. After Brenda helped her, Denise looked in the mirror. Part of her wanted to run and hide, and part wanted to stare at the very curvy young lady. She glanced down, into the gaping cleavage, and felt like she was spilling out of the skimpy very low-cut dress. She glanced back in the mirror, seeing herself again, this time more aware of her assets. Dennis’ eyes would have locked on this figure.

Brenda guided Denise to the bathroom, then took out a comb. Denise was surprised at how much her hair had become tangled, both by the swimming and by the shower afterward. And Brenda laughed at how, in trying to towel her hair dry, Denise had made the tangles worse. With lots of merciless combing and tugging, Brenda finally got Denise's hair combed; Denise had tears in her eyes by the time the ordeal was over. A little work with the blow dryer, and the waves in Denise’s hair really perked up.

Denise turned, ready to leave now that her hair was combed, but Brenda stopped her. She wasn’t done yet. Out came the bag, disgorging the cosmetics. On went a little blush and a little eyeshadow, some lipstick and lip liner. Some mascara. The works.

Brenda worked with Denise’s back to the mirror, so Denise couldn’t see what was going on. When she finished, Brenda spun Denise.

Denise froze, her mouth agape. She was - very attractive. No, that wasn’t quite right, she thought. Beautiful. Gorgeous. She gawked at the beauty she’d been turned into, transfixed by the difference a little carefully applied makeup had wrought. Without the cosmetics, she’d been good looking, at least by Dennis’ standards. But now? As she gazed, she felt a tug on her ear, and saw in the mirror that Brenda was fastening earrings. Large gold hoops, just like Dennis seemed to like. She watched, almost enraptured, as Brenda lifted her hair and fastened a necklace around her neck — a simple pearl on a modest gold chain, dangling tantalizingly close to her gaping cleavage. And then Brenda gave her a little spritz of perfume, a delicate flowery scent directed at her neck — and the exposed portions of her breasts.

Brenda gazed at her handiwork, grinning. She picked up the bags, then took Denise’s hand and led her out of the locker room. Denise felt awkward on the heels, like she was walking on stilts, tottering along and feeling like she would fall at any moment. Fear filled her eyes — fear of being discovered like this, fear of being stuck, fear of what Brenda had planned. And as the pair walked slowly across the asphalt parking lot, Denise saw the same look in a few other eyes, the same unsteadiness on heels, the same uncertainty in how a few girls carried themselves. All of them had started the morning as guys, she realized. And like her, all were now stuck.

Denise sat, a shocked expression on her face, as Brenda drove the car. She didn’t even consider asking where they were going; Brenda meant to torture her, and Denise didn’t want time to contemplate what might be happening. She just sat, wide-eyed, unflinching, reminded of her change with each bump in the road which set her boobs jiggling and with each corner which caused the seat belt to dig between her breasts. Eventually, Brenda pulled the car into the mall parking lot. Denise looked fearfully at Brenda, silently pleading no, but Brenda grinned and pulled her from the car.

As they walked into the mall, Denise realized that guys were starting to stare at her. Not just glance, but openly ogle her. Leering from passing cars, gawking at her shapely legs and her generous bosom. She pleaded in a whisper, begging Brenda to go home. Brenda, however, had other plans. They walked through the mall, slowly meandering from store to store, never lingering anywhere for very long, and always returning to the main corridors, the hallways seemingly full of the lustful stares. And Brenda laughed when she saw Denise’s stride. She was trying desperately to have a plain walk, to not attract excess attention. Inwardly, Denise knew what a woman’s walk could do for her sex appeal, and she was determined to minimize hers. But she was not used to the heels, and concentrating on keeping her balance and poise was inadvertently causing her hips to sway in a very alluring fashion. And the funniest part to Brenda was that Denise actually thought she wasn’t wiggling her butt as she walked.

Brenda did insist on stopping in one store for a while — Victoria’s Secret. Denise felt a mix of emotions — relief at being out of sight of the gawking, and humiliation at having to try on the lacy teddies that Brenda was pushing on her. And the secret, dreadful thrill of the soft lacy sleepwear on her skin, a tantalizing and almost erotic sensation that Denise was afraid she was enjoying too much.

After wandering for a couple of hours, Brenda glanced at Denise, smiling. Denise had been blushing almost perpetually since they got here, especially when she saw how guys’ eyes locked onto her tits. She was walking nervously, very self-consciously, aware of and embarrassed by the attention to her body.

“You feeling as hungry as I am?” Brenda asked casually. Still, her tone had a biting edge to it that made Denise shudder.

“Can we go home and fix something?” Denise asked softly and hopefully.

Brenda smiled and shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got reservations at Tony’s.”

Denise blanched. “Tony’s?” she echoed, her voice having shifted from nervousness to outright fear.

Brenda pushed open the doors and strode confidently out of the mall, with Denise following her hesitantly. “You like Tony’s, don’t you? That’s what you said last week, isn’t it?”

Denise looked down. “That’s different,” she said softly.

Brenda grinned. “No, it isn’t.” She set off across the parking lot, smiling happily at every passing car, knowing that any guys were staring at her companion.

**********

“Reservations for Jones, party of two,” Brenda announced to the hostess. Denise was standing to one side of the foyer, pressing her back against a wall as if to blend in. The red dress made that impossible, however.

The hostess glanced at her chart. “Jones. Yes, your table should be ready in a few minutes. Would you care to have a cocktail in our lounge while you’re waiting?”

Brenda smiled. “That would be fine.” She beckoned Denise, then the pair went into the lounge. A couple of small tables were empty, and Brenda took one.

“Couldn’t we at least sit somewhere a little less ... visible?” Denise hissed as she sat. Then she realized her position at the table maximized her visibility to both the foyer and the traffic flow to and from the lounge.

Brenda smiled sweetly. “I thought this was your favorite spot.”

Denise realized she’d been caught, again, by her old arguments.
“Well, not now it isn’t.”

Brenda stifled the smug grin. “White wine, please,” she said to the server who’d appeared at their table. “For both of us.”

Denise spent most of the wait staring at the table. She knew that eyes were fixed on her, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. And when they got to the table, Denise knew that Brenda had arranged this table — perhaps the single most visible table in the restaurant, where it was guaranteed that nearly every guy could see her.

Dinner was horrible. To be more precise, Denise found the meal quite good, but the experience was worse than the mall. She’d had to glare angrily at a couple of guys. The waiter, a young college kid, had stood beside her, gazing down her cleavage and nearly drooling with desire, making every excuse in the book to check on them. Denise was annoyed at his behavior, but Brenda was amused. She even left him a large tip, which angered Denise.

**********

Denise looked sullenly at Brenda. “I’ve learned my lesson,” she admitted. “Let’s go home now.”

Brenda smiled in triumph, but she wasn’t done yet. “I said I wanted to go dancing, and we’re going dancing.” She led Denise into the club, an oldies rock-n-roll dance club that was very popular. Brenda stood in the entrance for only a moment before she found what she was looking for — an empty table for them to sit. She led Denise through the crowd to the table.

“Pretty lucky to get a table,” she said loudly as she sat down. She pried open her purse and dug out a large bill. “Be a dear and go get us some drinks.”

Denise frowned, then nodded. “Wine?” Brenda smiled and nodded. Denise trudged across the floor, still swaying her butt. Brenda couldn’t help but laugh as she saw all the eyes tracking her like radar, locked onto her short bright red dress and her bosom spilling out of the low-cut neckline. As Denise stood at the bar ordering, a guy walked casually over and tried to talk to her. Denise’s face went through shock, disbelief, humiliation, then on to anger. She said something, and the guy turned and slunk away, his lips moving as he muttered something. Probably calling Denise a bitch, Brenda decided through her giggling.

“Well, what did he say?” Brenda asked gleefully as Denise sat down.

Denise glowered. “Some stupid line about a beautiful girl and getting to know each other better.”

Brenda laughed softly. “So why didn’t you go dancing with him?”

Denise’s glare was all the answer Brenda needed. Then, as Denise looked in horror, Brenda slowly and deliberately took off her wedding ring and slipped it into her purse. “What are you doing?” Denise asked, horrified.

Brenda shrugged. “With you like this, I can’t very well be married to you, can I?”

Within seconds, a guy came over to the table. As he introduced himself, Denise knew what had happened. He’d seen the ring come off the finger. He knew that she was out for a fun evening. To the guy, that meant a good chance at a quick affair with zero chance of commitment. A perfect target for a cheap and sleazy one night stand. And Brenda got up to dance with him, leaving Denise alone at the table.

“Excuse me,” a hesitant voice sounded beside him. Denise spun, startled, and found herself staring up at a young man. “Can I buy you a drink or something?”

Denise started to get angry, then she recognized something. Something she’d done before as a guy. Hesitantly approaching a good-looking girl, nervous as hell, fearful of rejection, but still wanting to ask her to dance or something. And now, she was that girl. “No thank you,” she finally said calmly.

Brenda came back to the table after a bit, leaving her would-be suitor searching for other targets. “So when are you going dancing?” she asked as she slid into her chair.

Denise sat impassively. “I’m not,” she answered firmly.

Brenda’s eyes flashed. “Oh, yes you are,” she retorted in a veiled threat. “I want you to go out and dance.” She got up from the table and walked to the bar. Denise wondered what she was up to, and then breathed a sigh of relief when Brenda came back with drinks. Then Denise’s eyes widened. Following Brenda was a guy. Heading directly for Denise’s side of the table. “Denise, this is Jim. He asked me if you wanted to dance. I told him you loved to.”

Denise glared at Brenda, knowing that she was trapped. There was no way out of this without making a huge scene. Slowly, she stood and walked with the man onto the dance floor.

Time seemed to stand still for Denise. Every move, every turn, every single step seemed to make her boobs bounce. Her steps were halting, hesitant, as she tried to adjust to the altered center of gravity and wider hips. She tried to move slowly, unhurried in a bid to keep from tripping on her heels. And Jim’s eyes were locked onto her bouncing and swaying breasts, his lustful stare plain to even a child. To him, she was an object, a sexy body to be ogled and stared at and fantasized over. She stayed on the floor for four numbers, watching from the corner of her eye as Brenda grinned at her.

That set the pattern for the evening. A short break with Brenda, followed by a few dances. Another break and a little more wine, then some other guy would ask her to the dance floor. A stop in the potty with Brenda, then another glass of wine. All the while, something unknown was happening to Denise. Her movements became smoother, more confident, as experience in the body built and the wine dulled her anxiety. Brenda watched in awe as Denise slowly transformed into a pretty good dancer, losing her self-consciousness and gaining a bit of confidence. But still, her mind fought, rebelling at the concept of having fun dancing in this very feminine and sexy body. And finally, after what seemed an eternity, it was time. Brenda led Denise from the club and to the car.

“What now?” Denise asked hesitantly.

Brenda smiled. “Home,” she answered. The sigh from Denise was evidence of her relief. They drove in silence for a few minutes. “Well?” Brenda asked simply.

“I think I’ve learned my lesson,” Denise finally said softly, her
speech heavily slurred. “It’s not much fun to be treated like ... like a sex object.”

Brenda nodded slightly. She drove on. “But you were getting pretty good dancing.”

Denise blushed. “It was kind of fun, but weird. Like the guys were dancing with ... “ she lifted her hands, cupping her bosom, “with my boobs. And my figure. But not with me.”

Brenda smiled. “Like you weren’t there?” She chuckled. “The bane of every attractive woman.” She turned into the driveway, pressing the button and waiting for the garage door to open.

Denise tottered into the house. “And the slow dances!” She couldn’t suppress her shudder. “One of the guys was so ... disgusting!”

Brenda took her arm and guided her into the master bedroom. “How?”

Denise cringed. “He was pressing himself against me, rubbing his ... dong against me! Like he was trying to jack off on my body.” Another shudder coursed through her body. “And he kept whispering suggestive things.”

Brenda shook her head. “Happens all the time,” she clucked. “Some guys are real assholes. Think they’re God’s gift to women, and that we should be grateful to get a chance to boink them.”

Denise slumped onto the bed, her legs splayed open in a very unladylike fashion. Brenda looked at her, and shook her head softly. “But you kept dancing?” She watched for a reaction, but got none. “Were you starting to get, you know, curious?”

Denise’s head snapped up, and she shook it in denial. “No,” she said quickly. Too quickly. She looked down, biting her lip. “Maybe a bit,” she finally admitted, her cheeks red with the guilt of having been caught.

Brenda shook her head. “You’re a bit drunk, aren’t you” She watched Denise try to look up, to deny it. And she knew she’d nailed it. “I guess I got you out in time, then. Before you got carried away.”

Brenda guided Denise to the bathroom, where she helped her get ready for bed. Denise didn’t even protest when she slipped on the lace teddy. Within seconds of hitting the pillow, Denise was out, worn out by the long day’s activities and the wine.

**********

Dennis awoke, feeling a bit strange. What a weird dream! Wasn’t it? For several long moments, he lay on his back, paralyzed with fear. If it wasn’t a dream, was he still stuck? Was he still in the sexy female body? Finally, he couldn’t stall any longer. He slipped off the sheet, staring open-mouthed at the lacy and very feminine teddy stretched tightly on his male body. His head felt heavy, like he was on the verge of a hangover. As Dennis crawled slowly from the bed, he began to unfasten the buttons, finally dropping the garment around his ankles as he stepped into the bathroom. Bleary-eyed, he stepped to the toilet and relieved the pressure in his bladder. That finished, he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his stubbly face. Slowly, his eyes traced down his reflection — and stopped suddenly.

On his chest, a bit more tanned than yesterday, there were two faint triangles, less tanned than the rest of his skin. Two tiny triangles, made by the itty-bitty cups of the bikini he’d been wearing. The bikini he’d worn after he’d been changed.

Dennis looked up, back into his eyes. His mind whirled, digesting the data. Yesterday had been real. Brenda had changed him into a girl. And then she’d taken him out, so he could be ogled and leered at. The mall. The lingerie store. Where they’d purchased the teddy he’d awakened in. The restaurant where every guy drooled over his body. The club. Drinks and dancing. And then ... blank.

Dennis began to feel panic. What had happened? He knew that he’d had some wine, and danced a few times, but things seemed a little ... foggy. What else had he done? He didn’t think there was any reason to panic, but he wasn’t absolutely sure. What if he had ... gotten carried away? What if he’d experimented with the body?

Brenda came in behind him, wrapping her arms around him from behind and laying her head on his shoulder. “Morning,” she purred.

“Morning,” he answered hesitantly.

“Have a good day yesterday?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Dennis hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll stare at women quite the same way ever again.”

Brenda smiled. “So you learned a lesson?”

Dennis nodded mutely. Finally, he stared at her reflection. “What did we do last night? At the club, I mean?”

Brenda looked at him, then grinned. “You don’t remember?” She couldn’t help laughing. “You honestly don’t remember?” This was rich. She could string him along, make him really truly miserable. Make him think he’d done things he’d regret forever. “Nothing,” she answered after thinking only a moment. “I brought you home before you did anything stupid. You were getting a bit ... drunk. And losing your inhibitions.” She shook her head. “Curiosity, hormones, and alcohol don’t mix.”

Brenda felt the sigh of relief course through Dennis’ body. “From what I do remember, it was kind of a mixed blessing.” He swayed as Brenda hugged him tighter. “On one hand, it really sucked to have guys staring at me like they did. On the other hand,” he said almost wistfully, “that body gave me so much power over the guys. Like I could get them to do anything with just a smile or a wiggle.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Is that how it is?”

Brenda smiled. “Sometimes.” She let go and picked up her toothbrush. As she opened the toothpaste, she turned. “So what do you want to do today?”

Dennis shrugged. “I don’t know. You got any ideas?”

Brenda grinned. “I saw a coupon in the paper. Two-for-one admission at Bikini Beach today. What do you think?” Dennis’ shocked expression was all the answer she needed. She started laughing aloud, knowing that she’d just gotten him good.

FIN