Cruise ships have among the best food and the worst conversation on Earth.
--Robert Heinlein, Job: A Comedy of Justice
Chris Archer settled into his seat at dinner, trying to decide whether he had made the right decision after all.
Yes, he had the plane ticket, and yes, had he stayed in Chicago, all he would've done is mope around, but he wasn't sure coming on his honeymoon alone was going to make it better.
She was supposed to be here, damn it, but she'd left him three days before the wedding. She thought she could "do better." She wasn't "in love with him." She had "been sleeping with the best man." So she called it off.
It wasn't easy for Chris, especially since the one friend he'd ordinarily turn to in this situation was currently sleeping with his ex-fiancee. So he took the Delta flight to Miami, and took the cruise that was supposed to follow what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.
Yeah, it was probably a mistake.
"So who are you?"
The question broke his reverie. He probably shouldn't have come to formal dining, either, he thought. After all, he was alone, and he was going to have to talk to people. Besides, there were 98 honeymooning couples on board--well, 97 now--and he was bound to run into them.
He already had.
"I'm Scott, and this is my wife, Sarah," the man said, waving. Then, he grinned. "Feels weird to say that."
His wife, Sarah, smiled warmly. She was a pretty girl, about 21, with long, brown hair and a serious air. She reminded Chris of Julie. Unfortunately.
"I'm Chris," he said. "I'm here on my honeymoon--can't you tell?" Instantly, he regretted the sarcasm in his voice. It wasn't this nice couple's fault that Julie was a "slut."
The couple was silent for a brief moment, and they exchanged a quick glance, which didn't appear to be anything, but which held a deep meaning. "I take it things didn't work out?"
Chris smiled wanly at Sarah. "No. Unfortunately, she liked my friends better than me."
Sarah shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Chris. Are you here by yourself?"
"Yep."
"Then join us after dinner," said Scott. "We're going to the Casino for a little bit, and then in for the show."
"Oh--I couldn't," said Chris. "I mean, it's your honeymoon...."
"We're not lacking for the opportunity to copulate," smiled Sarah. Chris was taken aback by this quiet girl's directness. "But you look like a guy who needs a distraction. Come on, it'll be fun."
Chris sighed. Well, at least he was meeting people. "Okay, sounds good."
"Great!" said Scott. "Now, let's see what they've got to eat here. My friend Jake says cruise ships have the best food there is. Hopefully, he's right."
* * *
Cruise ships may not have the best food there is, but they have the most food there is. Scott, Sarah, and Chris waddled up to Deck 6, and grabbed a drink in the Casino bar.
"I just...I think it was a mistake for me to come here," said Chris.
"Don't like us, huh?"
"Actually, you two are really nice. But it's not helping to see two people so obviously in love. No offense."
Sarah showed mock outrage. "I'm wounded sir! Saying I love my husband. I just married him for the money."
"I don't have any money."
"Okay, I married him for the sex. Anyhow...we understand, Chris. You need something different. Something to take your mind off of Julie. I think...I think Scott and I have something to offer you."
Chris struggled to figure out what Sarah was driving at. She couldn't be offering....
"No, not that. Nor drugs, though this will give you a trip like you've never had. Scott, do you have the bracelet?"
"Right here." With that, Scott pulled from his pocket a silver bracelet, thin, but big enough to fit comfortably on a man's wrist.
"What--what is this?" asked Chris, as Scott handed him the jewelry.
"Magic," said Scott. "Believe me...in three days, you won't remember Julie."
"Chris, put the bracelet on."
Chris did, though he still wasn't sure what kind of game these two were playing.
"This is a charmed amulet. As long as you're wearing it, you'll have--well, some special abilities that will make you pretty much invulnerable. So don't take it off over the next four days."
"Why would I need to be invulnerable?"
"Because if you weren't, you'd be risking death. Now, what you should do is look for a woman you think is attractive. When you get near her, think the words, 'Okay. Start. Now.' Once you do, you'll be on the ride of your life."
"I'm confused...."
"It's a surprise," said Scott, getting up. "Enjoy it. We'll come find you before disembarkation. But...if you decide before that that you're not enjoying yourself, just think the words 'Okay. Stop. Finito.' Somehow, I don't think you will. Enjoy, Chris!"
Chris sat in the bar, fingering the bracelet, for some time. What the Hell was all this about? Find a woman, think three words, and what? She'll want him? It sounded ridiculous. But...well, it wouldn't hurt anything. And the two kids seemed pretty nice, and really, pretty sane.
He stood up, and started walking. Find an attractive woman. That shouldn't be hard on a cruise ship. He decided to head to Deck 10. There was a dance club there--bound to be a few hotties.
He saw the girls almost immediately. They were in their early twenties, one with brown hair in a short, butch haircut, the other with longer blonde hair with pink streaking. They were sitting at a table near the floor, making google eyes at each other. They were very much in love, obviously.
Two hot lesbians, thought Chris. Now that would be fun--if there was anything to this whole thing. Guess I'll find out. Okay. Start. Now.
He felt a hum in his brain that picked up volume until it reached a screaming pitch. He wanted to tear at his ears, but he knew somehow that the sound was originating in his brain. It grew louder, and louder, and just as it reached its apex, it stopped.
And so did everything else.
Chris tried to move, but found himself rooted in place. He was staring at the two girls, who were frozen in mid-touch. "CHOOSE YOUR FORM," said a voice from everywhere.
"What?" said Chris, if his lips would move. "What do you mean?"
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM. ITEM/SIZE/NEW OBJECT."
"My form?" he said.
"ACCESSING HELP."
There was a pause, and then a person appeared in front of Chris. Actually, not a person, but a hologram. It was a woman in her late twenties, wearing a smart, bohemian blouse and black slacks. She smiled, and said, "Welcome to the Help Program for this prototype Bracelet of Alteration. We at GTS Enterprises hope you enjoy this item. You have been selected as a test user. Please, when you have completed your test run, tell your GTS Representative what you liked about the product.
"The Bracelet of Alteration allows you, the user, to alter your size and shape at will. You can also merge with existing objects, and even merge passively with animate objects. When you want to move to a new form, simply think 'Now. Form Change.' The form change prompt will allow you to change. Remember: at present, there is a two hour delay on changes in your form. So once you've made a change, you're locked in for at least two hours.
"This concludes the Help for the Bracelet of Alteration. From all of us at GTS Enterprises, thank you for your continued support."
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM. ITEM/SIZE/NEW OBJECT."
Chris stared. He could be anything?!? He wondered what he could be that would allow him to be with these two young women. What he wouldn't give to just watch them tonight, to be ant-sized, unnoticed....
"FORM CHANGE ACCEPTED. CHOOSE LOCATION."
In his reverie, he barely heard the location prompt. Instead, he mulled about hanging out by the pussy of the blonde as her partner went down on her....
"LOCATION ACCEPTED. TRANSPORT TO NEW AREA IN 3...2...1...."
Suddenly, the world started up again, and Chris was sliding through an outcropping of bizarre grasses, straight down into oblivion. He screamed, and grabbed at the vines around him, finally coming to rest in a tangle of branches as thick as his body.
"What the Hell--" he said, as the world shifted again. There was a strange, familiar odor in the air. His manhood instantly sprung to life in recognition of the scent, and he struggled to right himself.
"Oh my God," he said, half-amazed. He was right where he asked to be--ant-sized, by the pussy of the blonde. Thank god he hadn't thought "fly on the wall." All things considered, he didn't want to be an insect.
The world continually shifted, as the blonde subconsciously moved her womanhood in anticipation of events to come. Chris did his best to secure himself, when suddenly there was a movement that dwarfed all others--the woman was rising.
As they came out of the bar, light began to flood in. It was hard for Chris to figure out where it came from, until he saw the world below was brighter. The woman was wearing see-through panties, and he could see straight through what looked like a soccer net, down her long lovely legs to the floor below. At his size, it seemed like almost half a mile--he had to be less than a tenth of an inch tall. He swallowed hard, and hoped Sarah had been telling the truth about the invulnerability part.
The three stopped, and there was the sound of an opening door. After a few moments, the air grew sweeter, and thicker, and suddenly, the skirt which blocked his view was gone, and quickly the face of the butch girl appeared.
"OHHH, KYMBERLIE...WHAT A GREAT WEDDING PRESENT!" said the woman who was apparently Kymberlie's wife. Chris was too busy studying the beautiful, boyish face of the woman to worry about the women's wedding vows. And quickly, the panties themselves were gone, and the woman was easing her bride down onto the bed.
She pulled herself up her lover, and for a few moments, Chris' sky was dominated by the totally shaved vagina of the Bride of Kymberlie. A few drops of the woman's ardor fell like rain onto Kym's veldt. The sky slowly slid by...the navel of the woman was now above him, puncutating a well-toned abdomen...now, slowly, small, pert breasts dangled just a few yards above him...and now a chin...and now...a tongue....
It came up from below him and engulfed his world. He couldn't fight it. Instead, he was pushed along, and pulled back, smack into a soft, velvety lip. He stuck to the lip for a moment, and then was back off, on the tip of the tongue as it slid back out, toward an enormous, throbbing bulb....
His clothes were ripped off him by the tongue, as it pushed gently against the clit of her partner. He was pushed indelicatley but urgently into the soft, wet, moist button, and then, the lips pushed down around him, and the suction began.
He was pulled into the mouth, an enormous wind tunnel, and then bounced back down the tongue toward the button. Then back up, in another suction, then back down...back and forth, never quite being sucked in, never quite being dropped out, as the sultry, thick air swirled around him. Suddenly, the whole world moved in response to the first spasms of orgasm. He was pressed hard by the tongue into the button of Kymberlie, as her knees buckled and her eyes went back. He found himself coming at the same moment, amazed at the strange threesome he was a part of.
"OH, ANGIE...NOW THAT WAS A GREAT WEDDING PRESENT...."
He stuck to Angie's tongue as she licked her way upward, depositing him somewhere between the ample bosoms of Kymberlie. The two cuddled, with breasts interlocking and overlapping. Chris was caught somewhere between Kym's left breast and Angie's right. He didn't mind at all.
* * *
It was a lot of fun being a part of the action, and it was just as fun watching. But it was a little disappointing, a couple hours later, when the girls started to get dressed and get ready to go out and catch the late show. Then, suddenly, as Angie searched for a bra, inspiration struck.
Now. Form Change.
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM."
The world had stopped again. "A bra, same size and style as another one in that drawer, but one that is in Angie's hand."
"FORM AND LOCATION ACCEPTED. TRANSPORT TO NEW AREA IN 3...2...1...."
Suddenly, the world was in motion again. Chris tried to move, but found himself unable to. He could see all around him, though, and he could feel Angie's fingers lifting him upward. She pulled him around her, and her breats nestled gently against him. This was the life. He didn't even mind as she pulled a t-shirt on over him, blocking the view. This would do nicely for the next couple hours. He'd see where things went from here.
The life of a bra has its good points and its bad points.
On the one hand, much of a bra's life is spent laying in a drawer, or a hamper, or a washing machine. And even when a bra is being worn, it's hidden under a shirt, blouse, or sweater, cut off from the larger world. It's pretty dull.
Then again, when being worn, a bra has constant, tight contact with breasts, so it pretty much evens out.
For Chris, things were more than even, as he had no intention of ending up in a washing machine. He'd just sit here and enjoy Angie's small-yet-firm breasts (and to tell the truth, when you're bra-sized, even small breasts are plenty big.) Eventually, she and Kymberlie would go back to their cabin, and he'd go from there.
He could hear the show through Angie's t-shirt--a little comedy, a song-and-dance troupe, pretty much standard fare for a lounge act. He wasn't saddened at all when things came to an end, and he was back supporting two bouncing mammaries as Angie walked through the halls of the Ruler of the Waves.
After a few moments, they entered the discotheque again, and this time, instead of sitting at a table, the newlyweds decided to dance. And they could dance. Chris had never had an appreciation for how necessary a bra could be before, but after feeling Angie's breasts straining against him--not a bad thing, mind you--he knew that he'd never look at a bra the same way again.
Finally, after several hours, the two women wandered back to their cabin. Chris was happy to get light and fresh air again as Angie removed her t-shirt. He was eye-level with Kymberlie's mammoth tits, a nice view that became even nicer as the two embraced and locked lips. "ARE YOU TOO TIRED FOR A LITTLE FUN?" asked Kym. "UM...YEAH, I AM," replied Angie, much to Chris' disappointment. "ME TOO," said Kym. With that, Angie removed her bra, and tossed it onto the desk. Chris watched enviously as the two women climbed, naked, into the small cruise ship bed, and snuggled together, in exhausted amourousness. As the girls drifted off to sleep, Chris decided to do the same. Locked in as a bra, he found he was perfectly comfortable despite being tied up and twisted. With dreams of titanic lust, he slid into unconsciousness.
* * * Chris heard a ringing, and tried to rise to answer it, only to find he couldn't move. He panicked for a minute, until a beautiful, naked woman rose over him, picked up a phone, and hung it back up.
"TIME TO WAKE UP, SWEETIE," she said, gently rocking her wife's shoulder. "WE WANT TO HEAD OUT INTO NASSAU RIGHT AWAY."
"MMM...DON' WANNA."
"TELL YOU WHAT--I'LL GO BRUSH MY TEETH, THEN YOU CAN BRUSH YOURS, AND THEN...."
"WELL...THAT'D WAKE ME UP....OKAY."
Chris' heart leapt. A little more lesbian action was fine with him. Now, to decide where to go. He searched his memory. He could "passively merge with an aninmate object." He wondered....
"Form Change. Now."
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM."
"I'd like to passively merge with...." he paused. He was going to say "Kymberlie," but at the last second, inspiration struck. "Uh, with Angie's clitoris."
"MERGER ACCEPTED. TRANSFERING CONSCIOUSNESS TO NEW OBJECT IN 3...2...1...."
Chris was suddenly in darkness, with just a tiny bit of light sneaking in above him. He tried to move, but as before, he was stuck in place. There was something different going on, though. He could feel blood pumping through him, nerve cells firing. He was alive, whatever he was.
The world began to move as the thing he was stuck to got up. The world rose, and dipped, and suddenly gallons of hot liquid streamed forth a few feet below him. The stink of urine reached him. Maybe he should have waited a moment, he mused, as the sky parted long enough to see a sheet of white fabric moving around to blot the liquid. Then, the world was moving upward again. He could feel blood flowing through him even more, and a new, strange, unfamiliar feeling started to fill him. He knew that if he had a cock, it would be rock hard, but somehow, this was different. It was so...feminine.
He was conscious now of something outside his cuccoon. Something rubbing against the skin canyon above him--a leg, perhaps. Strangely, he could start to sense what was going on in the outside world--the nerves of Angie telling his nerves that she was kissing her wife hard, trying with each motion of her lips to suck love from her partner's soul. Now, hands were searching, and Kymberlie was moving into position to quickly satisfy her lover.
It felt like sweat pouring off his body, but Chris knew that the liquid that surrounded him was more holy than mere sweat. Without warning, curtains were parted, and the enormous, beautiful visage of Kymberlie was beaming down at him. She stuck out her tongue, and touched it to him.
Lightning coursed through his veins. It was like a full body blow job, but altogether different. Kym sucked at him, licked him, let her teeth graze him. He wanted to scream out in pleasure, but Angie was doing it for him. With each flick of her tongue, Kym brought joy to her wife and the unseen, unknown consciousness in her vagina. Finally, when Chris felt he could bear it no more, he felt the release of a new and altogether different type of orgasm. And then he felt it again. At long last, the world settled down, as Kym finished with a soft kiss to her lover's lower lips.
Chris lay back, or would've, had he been able to move, and mentally sighed. Now that was better than anything he'd ever experienced. Slowly, the walls closed, and after a while, he felt a small sense of arousal, as Angie returned the favor to Kym. Finally, the loving ended, as Angie got up and took a shower.
* * *
After a while, Chris began to get bored with resting in Angie's vagina.
Oh, it was fine and all, but they were just walking around, and being a clit is just not exciting when your owner is getting dressed, or heading down to breakfast.
"How long until I can transform into someting new?"
"EIGHTEEN MINUTES, THREE-POINT-TWO SECONDS."
"Okay." He mulled over what to do next. Perhaps he'd merge consciousnesses with Kym like he was origninally planning to. Even if they were just sightseeing, he'd get to see the sights, rather than hear about them through a few layers of fabric. He wasn't sure.
Then, inspiration struck. He wanted to see things, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get inside one of the women's heads--at least, not yet. But if he transformed into Kym's shirt, he'd be able to see everything while still feeling Kym within him. Not a bad idea--at least for a while. "Time left until I can transform?"
"ONE MINUTE, ONE-POINT-ONE THREE SECONDS."
Chris counted to seventy-Mississippi, then said (or would have, if clits had lips) "Form Change. Now."
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM."
"I want to merge with Kym's shirt."
"MERGER ACCEPTED. TRANSFERRING CONSCIOUSNESS TO NEW OBJECT IN 3...2...1...."
He could feel himself stretched around two ample breasts, then sliding down along a soft, sweet tummy. He looked up at Kym's face, and smiled inwardly. He was glad she liked her t-shirts tight. It makes a t-shirt happy.
Then, just as he was starting to enjoy himself, disaster struck. Just as she was about to take a bite of huevos rancheros, Kym lost control of her fork, sending salsa, egg, and refried beans plummeting toward Chris.
He saw them fall as if in slow motion. They struck right on her starboard breast, and fell to the table.
"OH, CRAP," said Kym. "THAT'S GONNA STAIN."
"IT'S OKAY, WE'LL STOP BY THE CABIN AND GET YOU A NEW SHIRT," reassured Angie.
"Fuck me," thought Chris. Two minutes as a shirt, and already he was going to be discarded to the hamper. This was no fun at all.
* * *
It was hard enough being dropped unceremoniously on the floor of the room, as Kym and Angie hurried to leave the ship, but things were getting tremendously boring. All Chris could do was sit and sulk, and occasionally check back to see how long it would be until he could change form again.
At least he knew what he was going to do. He would change into a quarter-inch tall version of himself--so small that he would never be noticed. Then, he would go hide himself until the girls got back. And then he would enter one of them, and see what it was like to be a lesbian in love. (From what he'd seen so far, he thought it probably was pretty fun.) Finally, he was able to make his change. He found himself standing atop the shirt he had until recently been a part of--standing amid the stain. He wasn't sorry, though; his stomach propelled him into the heart of it, where he was able to find enough bits of bean and egg to quiet the rumble in his newly reconstituted stomach. He jumped off the shirt into the middle of the towel, when suddenly, an enormous noise rang out. The door was opening! The girls were back!
He was wrong, though. It was the cabin stewardess, here to put the room to rights. She was a young Latina, with dark eyes and even darker hair. From Chris' vantage point, she was nothing short of a Goddess.
He scurried backward as her eyes landed on the towel and shirt. She clucked, and muttered something in Spanish that had to refer to how messy Americans were. Thinking nothing of the unnoticed man, she reached down, slung the towel over her arm, and moved the shirt into the corner of the room.
Chris was thrown onto the woman's shoulder. It was all he could do to cling for his life as she made up the bed into a couch, and left some new ice. He kept looking for an escape route, but there was none. As they left the room, he memorized the cabin number--he would have to find his way back here.
They journeyed on to the next room, where Chris finally lost his grip. He tumbled as the stewardess bent over the desk, and fell into the slightly-open desk drawer. As he impacted a pile of fabric, he gasped for breath. Finally, he righted himself, just as the woman left for her next room.
Chris thought about escape, but to where? He was better off staying right where he was, and waiting until he could transform into something. Then, he could merge with the door to cabin 7822, and wait until the girls came back. Seemed like a good idea.
A few minutes later, he started hearing some noise, and suddenly, an enormous hand reached in to a suddenly open drawer, grabbing the fabric around him and lifting it into the air. He saw the mirror-polished wedding ring on the left hand of the woman who held him, and saw just enough of her to tell she was incredibly hot--and currently, incredibly naked--when the fabric dropped to the floor and came up fast on her pussy.
Chris was pressed firmly between the rubbery pink fabric of bikini bottoms and the clean, well-trimmed bush of a hot young bride.
A deep, distinctly male voice said, "JESSIE, YOU LOOK GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT."
"A.J., WE DID IT ALREADY THIS MORNING...HOW 'BOUT WE WAIT UNTIL JUST BEFORE DINNER?"
"OKAY...THAT A PROMISE?"
"MMM...WHAT DO YOU THINK?"
Chris wanted to retch--a young couple in love. Just what he didn't need. He could feel his cock hardening as Jessie thought about what was going to happen "just before dinner."
Then, suddenly, they were moving. Chris slid down the fabric to a spot directly between Jessie's legs. They were probably headed to the pool. Chris prayed they were just going to sunbathe--he wouldn't survive underwater if he was here.
Thankfully, it wasn't too long until Jessie was laying prone, and Chris could smell the scent of coconut--tanning oil, he was sure. As Jessie stretched out, Chris formulated a plan, just in case she decided to go swimming after all.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he pushed his way into the great doors of her vagina. The going was not easy, but he was able to push inside into a chamber where there was some air. He figured he would hide up along the cervix. If she did swim, he would have a pocket of enough air to sustain him. Besides, it was kind of fun, hanging out in the pussy of an attractive woman.
The sultry scents and heavy air had an effect on Chris. He laid down, and fell asleep.
When he awoke, it was because there was an earthquake, combined with a flood.
"Fuck!" he shouted, as he struggled to keep his head up. "It must be just before dinner.
No sooner did he say that when he saw the head of an enormous penis entering his hidey-hole. "Oh, fuck me. How long until I can change form?"
"THIRTY-EIGHT SECONDS."
As the penis began to move in time, Chris tried quickly to think of a plan. Then, suddenly, it hit him. "Time?"
"TWO SECONDS."
"One...Zero...Form Change. Now."
"CHOOSE YOUR FORM--"
"Merge my consciousness with the owner of that cock!"
"TRANSFER ACCEPTED....."
Suddenly, he was making love to a gorgeous woman. He was quite aware that he had no control over the body he was in; but he could feel everything the man could, and when he came, Chris came as well. Much better than being swept up in come, he thought."
A.J. was something of a putz. Jamie deserved much better.
So thought Chris after walking a mile in his shoes. Jamie was amazingly attractive. She looked good. She felt good. She even smelled good.
Let's just say A.J. was a little out of his league.
Chris was counting down the moments until he could crawl out of A.J.'s skin. There was no way he wanted to stay in the body of some random guy. So as they moved out into the hallway to head to dinner, Chris was looking for somewhere else for his consciousness to alight.
He finally saw it with a woman in the casino. She was wearing a jade pendant that dove deliciously into her ample cleavage. Without a second thought, he spoke the words that made him a part of the pendant. There was a lot of ground to cover on this ship. He looked forward to what would come next.
Chris was getting bored again, but at least the view was good.
He was a jade pendant around the next of a beautiful, well-endowed woman, and he was nestled in just above her cleavage. With every step she took, he saw the floor beneath him quiver and move in a delightful fashion. It wasn't half-bad.
But it wasn't as much fun as hanging out with two lusty lesbians, nor was it as much fun as playing around in the pussy of a young bride. No, Chris was definitely going to have to find something more constructive to do with his time.
As two hours ended, Chris mused to himself about what to do. He wanted to go back to Kym and Angie, but he stopped himself. Oh, he'd go back, but not tonight. No, he had a lot of exploring to do, and he wanted to see more sights before he went back to them.
The woman was walking into the restaurant on the lido deck. He scanned the distant horizon, trying to figure out what to do. What he really wanted to do, he thought, was find a single woman, one who wasn't with a husband or boyfriend, and just hang out with her for a while. He wasn't asking too much, he thought. Then, inspiration struck.
"Can you make me ant-sized, in the purse of the nearest girl not traveling with a boyfriend or husband?"
"FORM CHANGE AND LOCATION ACCEPTED...."
A moment later Chris was sitting in the twilight shadow of an enormous billfold. He was surprised at the color and fabric--it was sort of a neon orange, with some sort of cartoon on it. The purse wasn't moving at the moment--undoubtedly, the owner was eating--so he crawled inside the billfold to see just who he was tagging along with.
He was surprised to see no driver's license or credit cards. Just a library card and, above that, a social security card. He turned, and his jaw dropped as he saw the third form of ID in the wallet.
It was a photo ID, but not the one he'd been expecting. It was a school ID.
For Robert E. Lee Elementary School in Peach, Georgia.
* * *
Chris sat down heavily as he reached the bottom of the purse. A little girl? She couldn't be more than what--seven? eight? What the Hell happened?
"SPECIFICATION WAS FOR NEAREST GIRL WITHOUT HUSBAND OR BOYFRIEND."
The helpful explanation from the bracelet was not what Chris cared to hear. Though it did explain things. Now, he just had to try to survive the next two hours until....
Before he could continue the thought, the world was in motion, as the little girl had picked up her purse. Chris thought he would be sick as the girl skipped back to her cabin. When she finally threw the purse on her bed, Chris was relieved as he could be merely to spill out onto the flat, solid plane.
He looked up in awe at the "little" girl. She looked like her picture--brown hair, tied back in a pony tail; a sun dress; a bit of a sunburn. Chris knew he wanted to get clear of her--he was not into little kids, and while he was awed by the girl, he wasn't turned on by her.
"HEY, LIZ, GET YOUR STUFF OF MY BED."
The voice rang out, and Chris turned to see an enormous girl walking towards them both. She was taller, and...well, she was definitely the older sister, as the swell of her chest and graceful curves attested.
"I WANT THIS BED TONIGHT!"
"NO, YOU DON'T," said the new girl and Chris simultaneously. He was already moving a safe distance from the purse.
"THEN WE GET TO WATCH CARTOONS."
"WHATEVER."
Liz picked up her purse, leaving Chris to goggle at the older sister. She was still a teenager--probably fourteen or so--but she was well-developed. Besides, if Chris was going to be stuck with someone for the next two hours, he'd rather be stuck with someone who had breasts. He reached the lee of the pilow just as the girl started to change.
* * *
The next couple hours were delicious frustration for Chris.
The girl--Brittany--was beautiful. And her young, developing breasts showed clearly through her tank top. It would be easy for Chris to explore them, to visit her young pussy, to touch her firm, young rump.
But he stopped himself. She was too young. She was nice to look at--and indeed, a whole bunch of thoughts were going through his head as he looked at her--but it just wasn't right to do it. As she turned the lights off, he sighed, and tried to figure out where to go from here.
He started to descend the bedsheet. He wanted to get away from this girl, and indeed, out of the cabin. Once his cock stopped throbbing, he'd be able to think more clearly.
Fate would conspire to keep him there a bit longer, though. As he descended, Brittany rolled over, causing the mattress to flex, and causing Chris to lose his balance.
He fell a long, long way, finally landing on something soft. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't dead. Breathing hard, he decided to not even try to figure out where he was. He'd just count his lucky stars he was alive. Besides, it was soft in here. He'd sleep tonight. Tomorrow, he'd head out....
* * *
Chris awoke slowly, stiff and sore from last night's fall. But aside from stiffness, he was basically fine. He stood up, trying to figure out where he was in the cool light of day.
He was standing amidst a sea of orange grass. That couldn't possibly be right. He turned around, and saw an enormous cave ahead, made of the same orange vines. It looked like carpet, but the way this area was constructed, this had to be a....
Suddenly, Chris was lifted into the air. He saw an enormous foot approaching. He was still half-asleep--otherwise, he would've remembered that he had the power to get the heck out of there. Instead, the foot caught him and drove him into the toe of a massive slipper.
Why Liz felt the need to put on her slippers would forever be a mystery to Chris. She literally walked to the bathroom, peed, and walked back out. She pulled her slippers off, and put her feet into the sandals she would wear for the day.
Chris was stuck to the little girl's foot, and stuck fast. He was, he realized, nearly flat like a pancake. It was only the power of the transformative spell that had allowed him to live....
The bracelet! He just had to go somewhere--anywhere--and he'd be away from this unpleasant situation. "I'd like to merge with Angie's clit again," he said, hoping that wouldn't tax the bracelet too much.
Nothing happened.
He glanced at his wrist--he couldn't really turn his head, but he could move his eyes--and his heart sank.
The bracelet was unclasped. Yes, it was still with him--held fast between his flattened wrist and Liz' sole--but it had come loose.
And there was no way for him to reconnect it.
This was going to be a long day.
* * *
Each step Liz took was torture.
Chris thought idly that he was glad he was at least trapped under the foot of a little girl. Being caught under Brittany's feet would be much worse.
To make matters worse, the world was pitching and heaving. Chris had no way of knowing it, but they had boarded a tender that would take them to a small island in the Bahamas. Chris vomited more than once, and was just glad that, at about 1/12th of an inch tall, Liz would never realize that she was stepping in puke.
Finally, blessedly, the sandals were removed, and Liz stepped into the warm, sandy beach of the island. To Chris, she was stepping into a field of boulders the size of cars. It didn't take long for him to get scraped off, and fall into a gap in the rocks.
He held tight to the narrow band of silver, and as his body unflattened, he managed to fasten the clasp again. "Okay..." he gasped. "I'd like to merge with Angie's clit now."
"SYSTEM REINITIALIZING."
"Huh?"
"SYSTEM REINITIALIZING. ESTIMATED TIME NINE HOURS, EIGHTEEN MINUTES."
Chris sat down heavily. Whatever had happened to the bracelet was going to take some time to repair. So he was stuck, ant-sized, on an enormous beach.
This sucked.
* * *
Chris struggled on toward the people, in great feat that at any moment, he could be crushed under another foot.
At least he seemed pretty invulnerable. Oh, the ordeal under Liz foot hadn't been fun, but it hadn't killed him, either. He was looking for a good place to stow away, and make it back to the ship. He didn't want to be stuck on the island overnight. He had almost made it to a sunbathing beauty when disaster struck.
A couple of kids were running on the beach. He saw them moving fast as jet fighters toward him, and he screamed in terror. Thankfully, they didn't step on him--but they did kick sand, dust, and him up into the air.
He tumbled end over end, finally landing with a bang on a hard, clear surface. he struggled to stand up, and then tried to figure out where he was.
At first blush, it looked like he was standing in the middle of Soldier Field--an enormous stadium, with high walls all around him. Enormous yellow walls rose in the distance, and a large plastic pipe lay nearly parallel to the edge of the wall.
A shadow fell over him. He looked up the long, tan leg of a young woman in her early twenties. She was looking down right at him. Her hand reached for him. He screamed in terror.
Suddenly, her hand grasped all around him, and lifted. He saw the ground below falling away, and then turned to see her tipping the world toward her. He moved toward her eyes, and stopped as the world around him affixed itself to her face.
He skidded down the surface toward her cheek. He impacted right along the tight seal of what was clearly a snorkeling mask. The world was a panorama as the woman turned toward the sea.
* * *
It wasn't bad. Like being in a glass-bottomed boat, only much more frightening.
The woman had fastened her mask tightly, which was good, as even the slightest of leaks could have meant doom for Chris. As it was, he was almost enjoying himself. He had a great view of the sea, and of this woman's gorgeous blue eyes. It was strange that she could be looking straight at him and not see him, but he had decided early not to make a spectacle of himself. He would just enjoy the ride.
For a good hour, the girl swam through the crystal blue sea, before finally returning to shore. Absentmindedly, she pulled off her mask, and headed over toward the lunch buffet. Swimming was hungry work.
Chris had been planning on staying with the girl's mask, but he was unprepared for the forces involved in removing the mask. he found himself falling right into her long, curly, wet red hair. It was all he could do to hold on to the tree-trunk sized strands of her hair as she strode majestically across the beach.
This was going to be a long day.
* * *
After a while, Chris found himself more able to relax.
The hair was drying in the warm West Indian sun, and he had managed to find a place atop her head where her movements were merely earthquake-like, rather than apocalyptic. Indeed, he had a good view at the moment down the girl's front, and it was a very rewarding view. More to the point, he had figured out that she wasn't a bad person to play with.
Her name was Sandra. He had caught it in a few conversations she had with a couple of lecherous old men. She was a teacher in Minnesota.
This was supposed to be her honeymoon. But she was here alone.
Chris wondered how anyone could let this girl go--then reminded himself that life doesn't always move as we want it to. He had checked a couple of times with the bracelet--it was going to be a while before he could change into anything else.
He was going to have some time to explore.
The ride back to the ship was a difficult one, as the wind whipped through Sandra's curly red hair, threatening at any moment to blow Chris into the sea. It was all he could do to hang on, but somehow, he managed. Now, they were heading through the corridors of the ship, heading (he surmised) to her cabin. He hoped she'd do something that would let him get to a safer position--in short, he wanted out of her hair.
As if reading his mind, Sandra obliged him. Reaching her cabin, she undid her bikini top and wiggled out of her bottoms, and lay down heavily on the bed.
Chris spilled out amond dozens of red vines onto the pillow. He wanted to stay with Sandra, get to know her. But most of all, he was trying to figure out how to get her attention without scaring her off.
He'd have to get bigger, that much was certain. And it would be another three hours before he could do that. But he'd have to play his cards just right....
Suddenly, Sandra rolled off the bed, tossing Chris off the pillow. She headed into the bathroom, and closed the door. Standing up, Chris tried to figure out what to do until he could enlarge himself.
His answer came about fifteen minutes later. Sandra emerged from the shower, naked and glorious. Chris shook his head in wonder that anyone could've dumped her. Rummaging through her drawer, she pulled out a pair of panties and a bra, and lobbed them idly toward the bed, before beginning the search for her green dress. Tonight was formal night, and she was going to dress to the nines.
Chris looked at the circus-tent-sized panties laying but a few feet from him. He couldn't. No. Well, maybe. Okay, sure, why not? He'd visit, look around a little. It'd help him pass the time until he could present himself better.
Carefully, he pulled himself into the lacy, silky garment. She must've packed before the break-up, he mused, as he grasped some lace around the crotch area.
He didn't have to wait long until the panties were grasped and the world spun about, moving upwards and downwards at light speed. Before he knew it, he was lying face-up, moving rapidly towards a dense red bush--and then he was within it.
He could smell Sandra all about him. She had cleaned herself up, but she still smelled deliciously like a woman. He snuggled into her fur, hoping not to be detected but hoping to enjoy the moment for as long as he could.
The world moved around as he was accustomed to it moving as Sandra headed down to the dining room.
* * *
The smell of food above made Chris aware of a different sort of hunger. He hadn't had anything since the beans this morning, and he definitely could go for some of the salmon he could smell above him. There was no chance of that, though. Instead, he consoled himself by circumnavigating Sandra's bush, finally reaching her giant labia.
He touched them gently, ever-aware that he had to be careful--he didn't want her discovering him down here, not this way. Still, as he stroked her pussylips, lightning coursed through his body. This was where he wanted to be, for as long as he could.
They rose, and headed off to somewhere else. Chris kept wondering when he could change. Finally, a voice said "SYSTEM REINITIALIZED."
"Yes!" he said. He thought about how best to make contact with the giantess. Then, he smiled to himself. "I want to be six inches tall, under the bed of this woman."
"FORM CHANGE AND LOCATION ACCEPTED."
Abruptly, Chris was standing in a darkened room, hiding underneath the bed of Sandra. He had wanted to find a non-threatening way to approach her. He just hoped this would work.
About forty-five minutes later, the door swung open. Chris started to move out from under the bed, only to freeze. It wasn't Sandra. It was instead a maid, here to turn down the bed and fold towels into swans. Chris started to turn, but it was too late. He had been spotted.
The woman gasped, and said something in another language. She crouched down by him as he backed away. She was drop-dead gorgeous--Polynesian, with an incredible body. Twenty-four hours ago, Chris wouldn't have thought twice about whether this was a good thing or not.
Now, though....
She picked him up roughly--bringing him to her face and smiling. She spoke to him again, but he didn't understand. Then, she lowered him into a pocket on her dress.
This wasn't going to plan.
* * *
Chris had to remind himself that all was not lost. He would just wait out the next hour and put himself right back into Sandra's room. With any luck, the maid wouldn't even get around to checking on him before he changed.
As it was, he couldn't say this was totally horrible. He was basically reclining in a pocket on her skirt, and it was a pretty relaxing ride. He had an hour. He decided that he should rest. Laying back in the pocket, he let his eyes close....
"FORM CHANGE AND LOCATION ACCEPTED. TRANSFER IN 3...2...1...."
Chris awoke with a start. It had been a really strange dream. He was full-sized again, and chatting up Sandra. Things were starting to go well, when suddenly, he was drowning in a sea of purple liquid--nail polish. He'd blended and merged with it, and then a brush was dipped in, and he was pulled out and slammed into a nail. Far off, he saw that the nail belonged to Brittany--the young girl from the other night.
He tried to right himself, but he couldn't. He was completely formless. The world was a uniform shade of purple, with gold balls all around him.
He wanted to cry out in frustration. The bracelet had interpereted his dream as a request to change form. He was one with nail polish.
Chris tried to calm down. This wasn't the worst possible outcome. After all, he just had to wait out two hours of liquidity before he could jump again. Before too long, he could go back looking for Sandra. Besides, it wasn't very likely that Brittany would choose right that instant to apply nail polish, was it? Most likely it would just be a boring wait.
Just as he was reassuring himself, the world jolted. He was shook up by the sudden movement. He wished he was against the glass wall of the container, instead of the middle. He could see what was going on.
Suddenly, a tremendous noise filled his world, and sudden suction pulled him upwards. Then, a force pushed down, and up, and down again. Suddenly, the uniform purple and gold world was punctured by a series of enormous rods, each twenty feet long. Chris was impaled on the rods, and then pulled out by them into the world.
It was a dizzying ride, and he couldn't see anything for a moment, before he saw an enormous flat, pink plain rapidly approaching. SLAM! The rods impacted on the plain, forcibly ejecting him onto it. CRUSH! The rods pushed and pulled him, flattening him out into the thinnest of layers, before withdrawing completely.
Chris looked up from the nail helplessly. He wondered which finger he was attached to. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't affixed to a finger at all, but instead to the littlest toe on Brittany's right foot.
This was too strange.
* * *
All he could think as he looked up was that he would never let his daughter wear a dress like that.
He was getting a hell of a show. Brittany was wearing a wisp of a skirt, and she certainly wasn't concerned about hiding her underwear from her toes. He had already had some very good views, especially while Britt changed. She was going out to the teen discotheqe, and she was dressing like a seventeen-year old. Well, she could almost carry it off, especially since guys don't usually card girls they want to hook up with. After throwing on a pair of open-toed sandals, Brittany headed off for a night of dancing.
Chris bounced along as best he could--not that he had a choice. He was just marking time until he could transform himself into something else.
The dance club was as you'd expect. Bad music, kids hurling themselves at each other in an attempt to hook up. The usual. It didn't take long for Brittany to latch on to an immense guy. Chris decided quickly that if he ever did have a daughter, he wasn't going to let her date. Period.
After a time, Brittany and the guy left the club together. A short time later, they were in a cabin--and lounging on a couch, getting to know each other a little bit better than Brittany was probably ready for.
The bracelet was telling him that he could transform, but Chris held off. Not that he didn't want to go--but he just had a bad feeling about this situation.
The bad feeling was justified a few minutes later when he heard Brittany say "NO...THAT'S ENOUGH. NO..."
The movement became less intimate and more violent. Chris struggled for what to do, before thinking, "Mace. In her hand. And have her know what that's what she's holding."
Abruptly, he was being held by an enormous hand, and the hand was pushing down on his head. He felt a rush of liquid pass through him--it almost felt sexual, he thought. He watched the boy--maybe 17--fall back, grabbing his eyes. Brittany was up and running out of the room, before he could get up. She ran all the way back to her room before collapsing on her bed, sobbing.
After a while, she looked up at Chris, quizzically. "How--?" she asked, dazed. She picked him up and rolled him around in her fingers. He saw her whisper the word "Magic?" before setting him down on her nightstand. With that, she got up to use the restroom.
She went to sleep not much later, and Chris finally got to transform. But not into a tiny man in Sandra's room. It was too late in the evening for that. Instead, he merged himself with a pair of panties in Sandra's drawer, folded neatly. It was late in the evening, and more than anything, he wanted to get some sleep.
Chris awoke from a very deep sleep to an earthquake.
He would've blinked his eyes in surprise if he'd had eyes to blink, but he was still wholly constructed of cotton, his spirit intertwined with one of the more functional pairs of panties that Sandra had packed for her trip. She was towering over the drawer, naked except for a Tanzanite pendant around her breasts. She'd obviously just stepped out of the shower--she was still damp--and she was drop-dead gorgeous.
She reached out and grabbed him, and unceremoniously dropped him almost to the floor, before pulling him up along smooth, sculpted legs, and finally securing him around her firm, toned behind and her most precious of body parts.
Not a bad way to wake up.
Chris couldn't get a good view upward, but he was more than satisfied with his presence here. Every part of him could experience every sense, so he could simultaneously gaze at her vagina and feel the delightful way her ass moved. His view of the outside world was suddenly and unceremoniously obscured by a purple sun dress. Then, Sandra sat down to put on her shoes and all he could see was thighs. He felt her weight pressing down on him, softly and tenderly.
He was going to have to figure out how to meet her. But not yet, not yet.
* * *
It was hot in Key West.
Sandra was sweating in spite of herself. Not that she was alone. Probably anyone out and about that day was. Chris was well aware of this, as his host body was filling slowly with her perspiration.
It was about time to vamoose, no matter how much fun it had been.
But where to? He wanted to meet Sandra, but he had to admit, he wasn't sure how. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure his plan from last night was fatally flawed. What if Sandra saw him standing six inches tall and was frightened? Or convinced he was a pervert? Or worse? Who could say how a person would deal with something like that?
No, he needed a better plan. But he had no idea what that plan would be.
Still, as he drank in Sandra's ass sweat, he decided that it was time to go somewhere, do something. He needed a change of scenery.
"Form Change," he thought. Hmmm...but where? Then, an odd thought. Yes...that might be interesting.
* * *
He was stretched out, long and thin, plugged into a terminus at what felt like his feet. It was twilight here, the sky obstructed by what appeared to be wicker latticework and myriad vines.
He was one of Sandra's hairs.
He tried to get a sense of where on her head he was. Somewhere near the top, falling behind her left ear. He could see a sparkly tanzanite earring hanging down not far from him. Below him, he saw her bare shoulder, and watched as her skin dove deliciously down the front of her sun dress, her skin glistening with perspiration.
There. This was a bit better, and he could think now without being drowned.
He had to think of a way to meet Sandra, to get her to like him instantly. He had to figure out what the best way to do that was. Probably, he thought, it would be full-sized. But even then--how? What could he say? How could he win this beauty in the twenty hours left in the cruise--when they'd never met before?
Hey, is the wicker latticework of her hat moving upward?
Hey, why was he moving upward?
The hat was removed quickly, and Sandra ran her left hand quickly through her hair. Of course, everyone has a few hairs that are about to go. Occasionally, the mere act of brushing one's hair, or running a hand through it, will cause it to dislodge. You don't notice it. Unless you're the hair.
Chris was ripped out of Sandra's scalp and went flying. The wind caught him and whipped him the length of the tour bus, finally impacting on the vacant last seat.
"FUCK!" Chris screamed silently. Well, it had been interesting, but this was definitely not what he was interested in. He'd just have to rest, until....
Just as he was completing that thought, two girls on Spring Break entered the bus, and without even a how-do-you-do, sat down right on top of Chris. He was pinned beneath the right ass-cheek of a pretty young brunette. The end of him snaked out between her thighs, and he had a good view of her nubile legs.
Not what he was planning on. But an okay respite while he thought.
* * *
Time drug.
Chris would have frowned to himself, if a strand of hair had a face. Oh, he didn't mind his current position, but the more he tried to think of the perfect way to approach Sandra, the more he was convinced no perfect way existed. He'd watched her casually shut down the hucksters who had propositioned her on the beach. He had never been good at opening lines--and he knew he had but one chance to get this right.
He considered just being with her, a part of her life. He could be her panties, or her bra, or one with her bush...but that seemed awfully unfulfilling. No, he had to get this just right.
And then it hit him. The perfect way to do it.
It was time.
* * *
She was laying out by the pool on the ship, and he was one with her earring.
He would have to time this out well, and hope to God he didn't blow it. He was risking death, but he thought this would be one sure way that she wouldn't miss him, and one sure way she wouldn't blow him off.
Whether she'd actually want to be with him...well, that was up to her. There isn't a perfect way to make the girl of your dreams love you. He just wanted a good shot.
It wasn't too long before Sandra ordered a drink--Piņa Colada, in a pineapple. Perfect. Chris had long since rejoined her, and let the timer run. He was ready to make his move.
"Form and position change. Three inch tall man floating in the Piņa Colada that is being brought to Sandra."
At once he was awash in a slushy pineapple-coconut sea. Well, more accurately, a pool. At his new height, he was relatively safe, he thought, though he'd have to execute this quickly, lest hypothermia kick in. He couldn't see outside the glass; he'd have to shout for her attention.
The glass was handed off--it was a rough transition between the waiter and Sandra. But he knew it was her--he had faith in the bracelet, and what's more, he recognized her voice.
Okay, here goes.
"Help! Help! Somebody, help me!" he cried.
His cries were met with slurping, as Sandra started to sip her drink. Chris felt the undertow immediately, and was shocked as he was pulled under by the suction of his hoped-for rescuer.
He broke the surface, sputtering and gasping. He knew he was supposed to be largely invulnerable, but it had sure seemed close there. "Hey! Whoever you are! Help me!"
The suction started again, and again he was pulled under. This time, the straw was moved, pinning him against the wall. He tried to dig his way free, but he was stuck tight. The walls seemed to be closing in. This couldn't be right, he couldn't fail like this. He tried to free himself, but the world was getting hazy....
* * *
Chris felt warmth, and softness. Like he was lying in a king-sized bed on the beach.
It was a phenomenal feeling. He never knew just how good it felt to have the sun beating down on you. He started to move a little. Everything seemed to be in working order, and it all felt right.
He heard an extremely loud gasp.
Opening his eyes, he saw Sandra staring down at him. He looked around for a minute, and realized she was cradling him in her right hand. "OH, THANK GOD," she half-whispered, half-prayed. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE A GONER FOR SURE."
Chris coughed for a second, and said, "I tried to call, but--"
She smiled down at him. "I THOUGHT I HEARD SOMETHING, BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS MY IMAGINATION. IT WASN'T UNTIL I TOOK THE TOP OFF THE DRINK...."
Chris was starstruck. He was looking at a beautiful woman who had nothing but concern for him. "Well, thank you so much. I mean, if not for you, I might have died."
"I SHOULD HAVE BEEN LOOKING, THOUGH."
"Why would you be looking for a tiny man floating in your drink?"
"I SUGGESTED IT."
Chris turned, and saw another titaness sitting down next to Sandra. "I KIND OF HOPED YOU TWO WOULD RUN INTO EACH OTHER. SEE, SANDY? I TOLD YOU TO KEEP LOOKING."
"Sarah?"
"THAT'S ME."
Chris looked admiringly at the young newlywed. She was wearing a bikini that flattered her--and of course, she was enormous, which was something Chris had taken a liking to.
"SO YOU MUST BE CHRIS," said Sandra, smiling wryly.
"I'm a little confused."
"DON'T BE," Sarah said breezily. "PART OF OUR WORK IS FINDING WAYS FOR PEOPLE WITH SIMILAR...INTERESTS TO MEET. YOU AND SANDRA SEEMED A PERFECT MATCH. OF COURSE, WE DID HAVE TO SIMULATE DAMAGE TO THE BRACELET TO GET YOU TO STAND STILL LONG ENOUGH TO MEET HER."
"You guys were monitoring me?"
"OF COURSE. WE WEREN'T GOING TO LET YOU GET KILLED, OR WORSE. OH, DON'T WORRY, NOBODY WILL SEE EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID WHEN. WELL, EXCEPT FOR THE REPORT WE FILE WITH THE SOCIETY."
"The Society?"
"VERY LONG STORY. BUT CHRIS...WHY ARE YOU WASTING TIME TALKING TO ME?"
Sandra was smiling down, like a patient, kind billboard. I smiled back. "So Sandra," Chris said. "What are those interests that Sarah mentioned?"
* * *
If Chris had one regret, it was that the cruise ended too soon.
Sandra and he most definitely did share interests. They were both fans of Dan Savage, they both liked They Might Be Giants, they thought highly of Thai food.
And they were both macrophiles, though neither had known it at the start of the trip.
The cost for the bracelet was pretty reasonable. $1--and continued reports on successes and failures. GTS Enterprises was headquartered in Saint Paul, not far from Sandra's house. They'd get updates.
Chris was already planning to move. He needed a break from Chicago, and what better reason than the love of a woman? Especially one who was turned on when she found out he'd secretly melded with her panties?
Actually, her exact words were, "You bastard!" Then, about six seconds later, "Would you like to try that again?"
So it was that Chris was on a flight to Minneapolis, hiding beneath the jeans of a woman he was smitten with. From time to time she'd flex her thighs to remind him she knew he was there. Neither of them knew if time would be kind to their newfound love. But they were both interested in where this was going to take them. For Chris and Sandra, the honeymoon was just beginning.