The wine had clearly taken its toll on Lucy. I didn’t know when she’d come to bed, but she was still asleep when I woke up, and it took me several tries to awaken her. I wouldn’t have at all, but I knew that she had an early session that day.

Despite the hangover, she seemed a little better than the previous morning. She ate a good breakfast. We chatted briefly about household upkeep stuff. She didn’t leave without saying goodbye.

🔗

I had even more trouble focusing than I had the day before. I didn’t know what it all meant. Was she bi? A lesbian? Was that why we were having so much trouble with sex? But what was the night before last? Why the lingerie?

About an hour before Lucy was due home, I heard beeps outside the front door. That usually meant a delivery, so I went to the door to get it before porch pirates could.

I brought the package in. It was addressed to me, but I didn’t remember ordering anything in the past few days. Then I remembered Lucy’s order.

I stared at the box for at least ten minutes. If it had been addressed to Lucy, I would have let it be. But, it was addressed to me, so there would be nothing wrong with me opening it. But, I didn’t order it. She must have accidentally been on my account, which she sometimes used for features she didn’t have. So I shouldn’t open it. But if I didn’t open it, she’d wonder why, and I didn’t think I could lie to her if she asked. I’d end up telling her about my snooping. But . . .

So, that took around ten minutes.

I opened the box.

Sure enough, it was the lingerie set. It was tiny.

Lucy did not want to be tiny. Quite the opposite. She’d gone from 5’4” to 5’8” since getting the chain. She’d talked about how much she loved the toned, athletic look she’d given herself. I had no complaints, either. 

She’d addressed the package to me.

Once I’d tried one or two changes to myself, I’d given Lucy free reign. I’d tried every item of clothes she’d come up with. I’d been shorter, taller, muscular, chubby, broad, narrow, and everything in between. We’d even removed all my body hair once, at her request.

Could she have addressed this to me on purpose? Did she want me to open it? To use the chain?

This would be a weird way to do it, but, as noted, talking about sex was not our strong point.

New question—what would I have done if I hadn’t snooped on her? How would I have reacted to the package? What would I have done?

I thought about our discussion when we’d first started experimenting.

“I’ll try anything once,” I’d said.

“Anything?”

I’d thought about it.

“Anything except being a child, or somehow something not human. Give me a piece of clothing that won’t do one of those, and I’ll try it.”

I’d been desperate for her to want me again.

I still was.

And she’d given me this.

And, if I was honest with myself, I wasn’t repulsed by the idea. I’d die of embarrassment if anyone found out, of course, but otherwise? I wasn’t especially attached to my masculinity. My body was just something that was there.

I was even curious. What would it be like to be tiny? Curvy? To have smooth, soft skin?

I could live with that for sixteen hours.

Couldn’t I?

I retrieved the chain from its hiding place and clasped it around my neck.

I stared at the lingerie. Sixteen hours. What could go wrong?

I knew one thing that could. Dysphoria. I’d read a few articles about transgender people, and it seemed like being in a body that doesn’t match your gender could really fuck with your head. But if trans people could live with that for years, I could deal with it for half a day.

Before I could think about it further, I held up the lingerie and said the words.

“Fit this.”

My entire body burned with cold fire, but without any actual pain. The only changes that had come close to this intensity were the changes to and from bodybuilder. It took a moment for the sensation to not be completely overwhelming.

I could already feel the seat of my pants getting a little tight. I quickly slid them off and tossed them in the hamper. Next came my shirt. I left my underwear for the moment. I never liked looking at myself in the mirror naked, but I wanted to watch this change.

The changes seemed to radiate out from my center of gravity.

My waist was pinching inward, which felt very strange, even over the heat. I didn’t have a lot of body hair to begin with, but what I had was rapidly fading and either falling out (I’d need to vacuum later) or being pulled inward. My ribcage was shrinking, but at the same time boobs formed on it, and, on those, my areolas were growing from dime-sized circles to something considerably larger.

My neck began to thin and lengthen as my shoulders pulled together and my upper arms started to shrink. And everywhere the changes were happening, my skin became somewhat paler, and smoother, and seemed to be softening.

It was a lot to take in.

I had to shift my weight as my hips widened, and my ass swelled. My legs didn’t seem to be changing length, but they began to take on a more feminine shape, and, since my torso was shortening, they seemed longer.

I could feel the changes happening in my underwear. I shifted uncomfortably, and finally pulled off the underwear before it could get torn by my expanding hips and butt. I was just in time to see my penis give up the ghost and retract under newly formed folds. Somehow, that didn’t bother me at all.

In fact, none of it bothered me. Instead, it was fascinating to watch. I moved my gaze upwards and caught a slight smile on my reflection’s face. 

A face which had lost its harsher angles. My already longish hair had grown another six inches or so, and lightened from a faded brown to an almost vibrant blonde. 

My eyes continued to roam up and down my new body. The changes were slowing to a stop when I heard the front door open. Shit. I started hyperventilating. No, calm. I knew she’d be home around now. I was ready for this. Deep breaths.

I turned to face the bedroom door just as Lucy appeared and stopped, gaping at me.

I gave her a little wave, keeping my arms pressed close to my body.

“Ja—” she started.

I interrupted her. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to hear that name while I looked like this.

“Yeah, but call me,” I paused, “Daisy. For the moment.”

My voice was much higher and . . . smoother(?) than before.

“Holy shit.”

She was still staring. There was shock on her face, but something else, too. Most importantly, she didn’t seem upset or angry.

I gestured at the lingerie draped across the box it had come in, both sitting on the bed.

“I did say I’d try anything you gave me, once.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off me. Her gaze swept me from toes to head, then back again. After pausing somewhere in the middle, she wrenched her gaze back up to meet my eyes.

“Are you okay in there?” she asked. There was genuine concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I think so. I was a little worried about dysphoria, but it hasn’t kicked in yet.”

She tilted her head to the side.

I realized that I was standing there completely naked. I never liked to do that, even with her, except, now it wasn’t bothering me. Probably because this wasn’t really my body, or something.

I made a decision.

“Would you like me to try it on?”

She nodded mutely.

I picked up the panties of the lingerie and slid them up my smooth legs. Wow, that felt nice. It fit snugly against my flat crotch. Then I slipped into the camisole. I looked at Lucy. I couldn’t keep a little smile from appearing on my face.

“You should probably breathe,” I said.

“I didn’t think . . .” she trailed off.

“That I’d go through with it? You did address it to me on purpose, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Well, I’m a man—” I stopped and considered, then shook my head and went on, “of my word.”

Her eyes were drilling holes through me. I hadn’t quite had a chance to take in the final results, so I turned back to the mirror.

I could still see me in there, somewhere—me, but female. I wasn’t a knockout or anything, but I had a ‘girl next door’ thing going on. My body, on the other hand, was only ‘girl next door’ if the girl next door were a hot cheerleader, or possibly a stripper. 

Even as distracted as I was by my own image, I couldn’t help but wonder again exactly how the chain decided what ‘fit’ a given unworn piece of clothing. My ass definitely did not have to go that hard. The panties were a little stretchy, and would have looked good on a woman with noticeably smaller ass and hips. The same applied up top. If anything, I was pushing the limits of what would qualify as ‘fitting’ into it. 

Not that I was complaining.

I took a deep breath. Ooh, that was fun to watch. I took another.

I turned back to Lucy.

“Well, my turn to make dinner tonight. I’d better get to it,” I said, and slipped past her. The stretch of my skin that brushed hers felt like it was on fire, in a very good way.

“Wearing that?” she managed to say, following me into the kitchen.

“Did you order me anything else that would fit?”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw her shaking her head.

“Then I guess so,” I continued.

I quickly ran into a problem.

“Honey, could you hand me down the mixing bowl?” I asked Lucy.

I was at least six inches shorter than her now—down from three inches taller. It was frustrating, not being able to reach things, but there was something else. When she handed me things down from the higher shelves I got a warm feeling. I found myself picking items and ingredients that were out of reach, just because they were out of reach. 

Admittedly, I enjoyed watching her ass when she had to stand on tiptoe to reach things.

I also found myself brushing against her repeatedly as I moved around the kitchen. Each time my skin touched hers, I got that burst of warmth. From the look on her face, and the fact that she seemed to be in my way more than strictly necessary, I was sure she did too.

When I was done, we had a nice meal of lemon chicken with a rice pilaf and steamed broccoli. It was not my best effort ever, but I don’t think either of us paid much attention to the food itself.

“Would you like help cleaning up?” I offered, once we were done.

It was amazing how often I had to bend down away from her. To retrieve a dropped fork. To close the dishwasher. To wipe up a small spill of water. Everytime I did it, I could hear her stop what she was doing. I could feel her eyes on my ass.

This was something she used to do to me. She knew it affected me, and loved to tease. The way I saw it, turnabout’s fair play.

Despite a couple of near misses, we managed to complete cleanup without breaking any dishes.