Shifting the Sci-Fi Guy
[4]
“Where does the mass go though?” Connor questioned.
Kuni raised a thin eyebrow. I understood what Connor was going for. Kunio used to be remarkably tall. He got pretty close to six feet and was quite proud of every inch of it. Now, she seemed below five, if I had to estimate.
Connor pointed out that she had been on the fence about things with our transformations and Taylor‘s. We were each much smaller than before but the uncertainty existed that it could’ve just altered our original mass. She focused on her bust for emphasis. The problem was fat was much less dense than muscle, and while our shapes had certain weights to them, it just didn’t seem to be enough to offset the losses. Taylor was suspicious and we were on the margins, but what happened to Kunio completely broke the equation.
This disparity completely monopolized Connor’s ponderings. I took that as a good sign. At one point, Kunio fished her phone out of one of the bags and stared long into the lock screen. Her family.
What did mine think? Quiet but wild gurgling in my stomach replaced twisting thoughts. I both really wanted to call and yet really wanted to avoid it at the same time.
Eventually, Kuni got to her feet and tapped her phone. Someone picked up quickly and she wandered into the connecting hallway lit by strings of lights. She spoke in Japanese, so neither of us had any clue what she was saying. While she was gone, Connor drifted away from the physics of our situation and instead cozied up to me, firmly pressing our thighs together. I dodged around locking lips again though. Was it normal for a girl to be this freaking horny?
Nothing about any of this was particularly normal though. We were still ourselves on the inside, as far as I could tell. We’d just been granted bodies full of sensitive mysteries in large portions. A ravenous part of me wanted to ravish Connor and wield whatever I had upon her soft contours. Meanwhile, another part of me wanted to lay back and embrace her touch, like a tickle crossing into the forbidden. I was horny too, I just wanted to keep a leash on it until the appropriate moment was reached. If it ever came.
Connor quietly accepted my hesitancy, sighing with pronounced emphasis as she still stuck close to me. This really wasn’t how either of us envisioned the unlikely culmination of our silly promise. It should’ve been a total, unrelenting fuckfest. But the reality was much different than the expectation.
Kunio soon returned, squeezing her phone and relaying, “Everyone’s all right back home. I made sure to ask them if anything weird was happening around there or they saw in the news. I also went to go look at my socials. A lot of people online are questioning why… A bunch of girls from ‘that girl school’ are acting weird and ‘roleplaying’ like they’re guys. At least, that’s what I get from a little bit of searching. It’s just the university."
That lifted a load off my thoughts which I didn’t even know was there, but I could feel when it was gone. Connor sat up but remained pressed against me as she asked about the details of Kunio’s family. We had met them on several occasions when driving out to San Bernardino. He invited the three of us to meals and special occasions. His mom was an adventure freak who loved paragliding and writing romantic but tense global travel thrillers. His stepdad was a photographer in the same mold. His birth father had a cordial relationship with the rest of the family despite the separation. And there were so many aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Kunio once like to joke that his family could recharge Japan’s dwindling population all on its own, except his extended family back there often gave their American relatives the cold shoulder.
The tiny girl standing before us relayed that everyone she spoke to treated her like delicate pottery. They wanted to know if she was well, used a reserved tone around a moderated whisper when speaking, and made sure she was eating. It felt more to her like when they talked to grandma. Nothing about Kunio ever gave the faintest hint of being fragile or delicate. But that seemed different as Mari.
That was apparently her name now. Mari. I was vaguely aware of it as a Japanese name through fragments of animes I either saw on my own or through Kunio‘s influence. I passed along my new name of Trisha with a measure of ambivalence and uncertainty. Then, Connor surprised us both by relaying that she had managed to discover what her new name was by looking at some of the things labeled in the bathroom.
“Riona. RIONA. Digging deep into my ancestral Celtic and Irish roots. I figured it would’ve been spelled differently, but this is cute. I don’t know how I feel about it yet and Zach isn’t too sure about his or hers yet. Whatever you two feel most comfortable with.”
Kuni made it abundantly clear that nothing that had happened lately felt the least bit comfortable. But she promised to think through it. She made gestures toward the shower but also looked at her bedroom door.
Ultimately, the bedroom was the easier choice. The gasp and squeak as she peered through the doorway all but invited us to take a peek too. Simon’s side didn’t appear drastically different. This space acquired all the little pampering and coffee stations the same as ours. The film aesthetic Simon cultivated now tilted more toward famous cinematic dresses and costumes than pure celluloid. Zod and the Princess in the NeverEnding Story highlighted an area now adorned with lights, little succulents, and a very large fern.
Kuni’s side looked drastically different, yet not terribly altered. What once had been merely images for body pillows were replaced by the real thing sprawled across her bed. They included a magical girl, a shrine maiden, and a tattooed shirtless guy with blue hair. Plush animals spilled out from the foot of her bed. Copious wall scrolls with lovingly detailed girls in ornate dresses practically covered the entire space. Massive figurines topped glass cases with even more inside. A rainbow of manga and Blu-rays stretched out from the corner, leading to what looked like a miniature stage set aside with lights and a camera for detailed filming of the figures. The closet was bursting with outfits that challenged the color and beauty of the girls on the walls. A dual monitor computer with plentiful decals and a pastel aesthetic occupied the other side with massive cat ear headphones on a plush, black gaming chair. And I still felt like I was only taking in a tiny percent of all the stuff spread out before me.
Gently plopping down on her bed, Kuni surveyed her new room and asked the question, “… Am I a lesbian?” Kuni sure had a different reaction than I would’ve.
That seemed like another word wrapped in a huge ball of confusion and complication for all of us. The aesthetic that this Mari went with had hints but I didn’t feel like it landed in any particular direction.
In response, Connor or Riona lifted up her top and nearly took off her bra too. Kuni‘s eyes widened as her perpetual blush since she arrived deepened even further. Connor calmly asked, “How do you feel?”
The petite girl seemed to make herself even smaller as her eyes flicked to Connor but didn’t linger there, instead finding a safe haven in my features. She fussed with her lengthy stockings, drifting up occasionally to flatten the twisting hem of her skirt. We clearly each felt like our skirts were way too short for comfort.
“Really really weird. And really not sure,” was the best response she could come up with. She gently checked the boundaries of her small body, as if making sure it hadn’t changed or escaped when she wasn’t looking. My natural inclination was to tell her that she looked pretty and that whatever comparisons she might be draw between herself and us were unfair. She had boobs. Not huge ones, but they were unmistakable. She had a subtle, hourglass shape despite her dainty size. Unfortunately, I doubted that specific reassurance would be comforting.
Past a minefield of possible responses, terms, and pronouns, I settled on telling her that we were here and would offer our support no matter what feelings came about and what was needed. She slowly stood up from the bed and shuffled over towards me. I was surprised when she hugged me with both arms. Dodging around the mega cushions took skill. Then, she started crying.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks before the sniffles, faint whimpers, and girlish sobs spilled out. This felt both horrifying and familiar. It was ingrained in what felt like my social programming to comfort a crying girl. That was normal. But this was Kuni, my anime bro. The dude we chilled with. What on earth was he doing crying? And why the hell did her crying feel like it was activating damned-up reservoirs inside me? Don’t friggin cry!
Not as though this new girly body of mine cared a lick about what I wanted it to do. Whether it was some loose memory of my mom or my aunt, I automatically held Mari close and comforted her with a soft touch on her head all while rivers of tears let loose from my eyes. At least I managed to keep the sound down to a minimum instead of whimpering and squeaking too.
Gosh, so freaking girly. Or whatever. Connor hugged from the side, which split the boob pillow for us. She managed to make the embrace not feel as weird as whatever I was doing. Eventually, Mari’s tears dried up and she quietly managed to say, “I hope Simon will be back soon. Probably the same thing happened. I’m going to nap. My stomach and a lot of other things feel really lousy.”
I barely managed to halt the absolute river from my eyes and slowly make my way back to the hall. My freaking boobs had tear stains on them and I felt and probably looked like a gross mess. My girly little legs were trembling and part of me feared I would just lose control of the rest of me and become a blubbering, frantic, incontinent freak. A quick trip over to the bathroom cleared away some uncertainty and actually got my legs settling down once I ran the hot water and splashed my face. The lady in the mirror was pretty but looked like she was having a rough day.
Putting on a reinforcing smile was freaky because it was something I was trying to express and she was translating through features that I was able to control. This girl was me, I had her face...and the rest of her. I was her. Something I could express and scream a dozen times over but there was still a disconnect. None of this had truly hit me yet. My brain innately knew that it all had to be a weird virtual reality, a dream, a costume to slip off, or a drug trip.
Sliding my hand down and around my skirt sent an echoing shiver up through my body. The pendulous pillows were defining to my entire identity. Probably what some classes would call 'objectification'. But they felt overwhelmingly prominent and impossible to ignore. At the same time, I fell into a weird blind spot sense where I knew they were there and I could feel them and they did all sorts of crazy things, but they just felt as ever present and ignorable as your nose. They were just my boobs.
Not as though I was getting used to them already, but I had the mental framework for how I might get used to them. I always figured that anyone could get used to anything after a while, but it was trippy to see my acceptance of such a drastic physical change. Kuni mentioned magic. Considering how many foundations of thermodynamics this violated, magic seemed like a decent catchall for whatever the hell is going on. Did it have rules as well?
I brushed my long brunette hair back and ambled over to our dorm room. Connor was already there and inspecting the Lord of the Rings map rug along with everything else. It wasn’t long before we poked around our closets. I inspected a dresser inside and found where the vast majority of my bras and panties were spread out. Seeing them outside of their natural habitat felt normal and yet bizarre. These were my bras and panties. To be worn on my body. The sudden ringing in my ears when playing this notion through my head calmed down once I took a few breaths.
Hesitantly sifting through the garments, I soon got a picture of exactly how big of a girl I was. H cup, XX-large, GG cup, extra large in a different variety, HH cup, and a triple X large. The GG gave me a brief gamer smile but the rest left me with expressions of horror. That was quite a range. There were even more outliers and unmarked bras that seem to be for uplift and other things. But the vast majority had a glaring H on them. Fuck, they were huge.
Despite internal, screaming reservations, I relayed this information to Connor, who soon started digging through her dressers. Remarkably, she was ever so slightly smaller than me. A solid G cup with some variation into the F’s. More like F’s for me feeling like a total fucking cow. While I was wrapping myself up in this twisty, tangled notion, Connor slipped around behind me and wrapped her arms around my slim stomach.
“This one’s all for you, Little Miss Trish.”
It was a good thing that she was hugging me from behind because, if she faced me, she would’ve seen the bright red blush I felt heating up my cheeks. Not long ago I was ready, yearning, and gagging for Connor to put himself inside me and now I was blushing like a chaste virgin from the smallest, lightest contact. I was a pretty girl being held by a pretty girl.
Acting on instinct to swing around this hesitancy, I swiveled in her grasp. It took a little maneuvering to not bring about a second wave of boob jousting from the twisting momentum. It didn’t take her long to figure out what I was trying to do. Soon, I was the one snuggling her around the waist from behind. My brain started to remind me to be careful about poking my erection before it could comprehend we didn’t have that anymore.
Between having soft arms wrapped around you and wrapping soft arms around someone else, it was immensely difficult to choose which I preferred. Not long after that, we were pressed together on Connor’s big bed with our clothes vanishing one piece at a time. I still kept my bra on but swiveled it to the side. Connor tossed hers behind her. She looked like a woman from old fairytales, a mature Rapunzel.
Our hands roamed everywhere we could touch, seeking without skill, and feeling with earnestness but uncertainty. It wasn’t long before Connor got especially intimate between my legs. The phantom sensation of something poking out still existed but deeply buried with raw feelings. Fire upon the ocean sinking and shifting and spreading. And the sense like a riverbed slowly filling up with water traveling from somewhere above. It was getting there, inexorably, like gravity drawing forth alien pleasure. Reciprocating the same was a challenge as Connor seemed desperately devoted to making me feel good above all else.
We embraced and rolled as her busy hands did their magic. Somehow, that magic conjured up a large, pink phallus with two ends. She squirmed and panted as she prepared it for herself and then teased me with it. Neither of us knew a damn thing about how this should’ve gone, but we leaned into what felt good. Every part of our bodies that we could conceivably wield was put to the task of drawing the other closer in liquid ecstasy. We stumbled and staggered our way towards crashing waves of bliss.
I lamented the mess that I left on the sheets while we rested against one another. Virgins no more, I suppose. It was good. It was really really good. It was better than what I managed before in some key areas. I had someone with me and they were insistent but also receptive. Like forcing a tickle upon yourself versus being tickled by someone you trusted. You could shiver and feel something, pushing yourself on imagination and sensation alone. But the experience together was beautiful. My entire body was involved and felt like it had been twisted up in delight like soft taffy. I almost regretted that we didn’t get the opportunity to finish our first attempt.
There was still so much to process within and throughout. My brain settled down against Connor’s warmth and gradually itemized the stimuli of being this new girl.
During that quiet lull, Connor grinned playfully and whispered softly in my ear, “Would you like to get married?”