Game 4Game 4 Outline| Game 4 |
Game 4 Outline |
Your father steps back into the house and looks toward the staircase. "Maureen, where are you?"
"I'm coming!" you hear your mother's voice call. A chill runs down your back. You hope no neighbors have seen you. You shift uncomfortably, noticing that your clothing does not fit you nearly as well in your male form as in your "Hillary Duff" body.
Deciding to play a little mind game, the brunette types in something else and points the device at you again. You feel your body once again change.
Your father reappears at the door with your mother right beside him. Your mother gives you a puzzled look. You are at a complete loss for words.
"Uh . . . hi," you manage to say. Something seems odd about your voice as the words come out.
"What kind of a joke is this, Irv?" your mother asks your father with a suspicious look on her face.
Your father's jaw drops. "Maureen, I swear our son was standing here a moment ago."
"Oh, yes, I see the resemblance," your mother chuckles. Looking at you, she says, "Sorry, no offense, young lady."
Young lady? The penny drops. You have been changed back to a girl. It did seem as if your panties were fitting you more comfortably in the crotch again.
"I . . . I swear he was here," your father stammers.
Your mother pushes your father aside and leans closer to you. "I'm sorry about his behavior," she says. "He's been pretty stressed at work lately."
You smile sweetly. "It's okay. I . . . I was looking for Evan. I'm a friend of his."
"Oh, I see," your mother replies, smiling back. "Are you and Evan . . . .?"
"We're friends," you quickly reply before she finishes the question.
"Oh, right," your mother says. She probably is assuming you ARE Evan's girlfriend . . . er, YOUR girlfriend . . . whatever. "Well, he's out right now. I remember him saying something about going to the mall. Do you have his cell phone number?"
"I do," you reply. "I'll try that. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you," your mother says. Out the corner of your eye, you see your mother nudge her elbow into your father's rib cage.
As soon as your parents are back in the house, you run up to the brunette as quickly as you can in your platform shoes and pleated skirt. "What the hell did you do that for?" you hiss.
"Better watch your tone, young lady," the brunette admonishes you, grinning evilly. "You're lucky I changed you back into a girl when I did. If your mother had gotten you on camera dressed that way . . . ."
"Right, thanks for that," you sarcastically say. "So now what? You going to make me pull my skirt up in the mall again?"
"Not a bad idea," the brunette laughs. "Or maybe I'll . . . ."
Written by an anonymous author
(This page has not yet been checked by the maintainers of this site.)