[bane22]

I think I'm going with the title Alternative Debt Restructuring. See, because the guy is transforming, like a restructuring? Yeah I know, it's a stretch.

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Derek has me pose both standing in front of and sitting on the couch. I begin to feel like one of those dolls that artists use to create poses for them draw. I spend the whole time painfully aware of just how much of this body is exposed, though to his credit Derek remains a professional. I take a moment to re-assert that I’m attracted to women, and am a little relieved when I saw Derek bend over to pick something up and I felt zero attraction. Lindsay on the other hand...



Before I can entertain the thought, Derek hands me a garment that’s sealed in a plastic bag. “I think you’ll like this one, it covers up a bit more than the others.”



I eagerly take the bag and zip back to the bathroom. I tear open the package with the anticipation normally reserved for kids on Christmas. My enthusiasm fades as I unfold the pre-packaged outfit.



It’s a French maid costume.



There’s a dress (though just barely, it only just goes past the tops of my thighs) which naturally shows off a lot of cleavage, feeling like its actually lifting my boobs up. There are wristbands styled to look like formal cuffs, a fluffy white headpiece, and a pair of thigh-high stockings. I grumble to myself, but change into the costume.



I step out wearing more clothes than any other photoshoot so far, but feeling more exposed than ever. Clutching my arms to my chest, I return to the living room. Derek gets a look at me and naturally bursts out laughing. I can feel my face flush as I roll my eyes and look away.



Between guffaws and wiping away tears, he manages to say, “Looking good there, buddy! Do you clean the outside of the windows as well as the inside?”



“Just hurry up and take your stupid pictures,” I say between clenched teeth.



He holds up a pair of black high-heels. “To finish the look.”



I arch an eyebrow. “I don’t know how to walk in those things.”



“Me neither. Good thing you won’t be walking a whole lot, just standing for pictures, right?”



I slip the heels on. It feels like I’m constantly trying to slide forward. The shoes aren’t quite a perfect fit (maybe off by .5 inches or so), but they seem to do the job. As I clomp my way back over to the unofficial modelling area, I can’t help but feel like some prehistoric pterodactyl awkwardly stomping around for food. Fortunately, I can handle standing still and making it look like I know what I’m doing.



Derek poses me so that it looks like I’m curtseying. I officially want to curl up and die of embarrassment. We get a couple shots that look like I’m tidying up my own apartment (including me picking up the clothes I’d been wearing earlier when I was still myself). This feels like insult to injury for me, but Derek seems to love the shots he’s getting.



Once we’d filled whatever Derek’s quota was for shots of this outfit, he hands me another. Back in the privacy of the bathroom, I’m a little relieved to discover it’s a satin robe. While it is short (stopping at around mid-thigh length this time), it at least looks semi-normal. That relief proved to be short lived, as it turns out the back of the robe is almost completely see-through. I take a moment to consider, then slip the thong back on. It’s not much coverage, but it's better than nothing.



Derek seems to either approve or not notice my addition of the underwear to the shoot, and we soon fall into a pattern. He snaps a few photos, hands me a new outfit, I change, and we repeat the process. I wish I could say the garments got less embarrassing, but that would be a blatant lie. One of them was a cupless-teddy. Derek tried to have me cover myself with my hands, but I’m pretty sure I accidentally flashed him at some point.



Eventually the sun began to set outside my little hole-in-the-wall apartment, and I could see the outside day light begin its slow fade to orange. Derek finally seems to run out of sexy, exposing, or borderline-fetishist outfits for me to wear. “Looks like you’re about done. Want to see what you look like?” Derek motions for me to come see the digital screen on his camera.



Curiosity got the better of me, and I peek over his shoulder. As egotistical as it might sound, I look extremely hot. While my facial expressions lacked variety (in my defense the look I gave the camera wasn’t bad, just the only one I really knew how to do), I have to admit that Derek was pretty good at this. I’ll even go so far as to say that I missed having guy-parts at that moment.



“Wow,” I murmur. “Can I get a copy of some of these?”



Derek chuckles to himself. “This might lead to the first time in history someone has actually jerked off to pictures of themselves.”



“Oh my god,” I muttered as I turned away to try to hide how red my face had just become. I’m a reasonably modest guy to begin with, but combine today’s activities with Derek’s little joke, and I was beyond flustered.



Derek laughs again at my discomfort. “Alright, you’re done buddy. Go get changed.”



I frown. “Into what? Nothing I own fits me anymore.”



Derek starts to say something, then stops as if he hadn’t considered that. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” He thinks for a moment, then says, “Just put your t-shirt back on. It’ll cover what needs covering. It’s not like you were planning on going out tonight, right?”



He had a point with that last statement. I’m not the biggest social butterfly out there, but even if I wanted to go out, I’m pretty much flat-broke. I scoop up my t-shirt (which I’d folded and put on the table during my French maid shoot) and let it hang by the shoulders. It still looks large enough to double as a picnic blanket. I also recall that, while the soft cotton fabric didn’t bother me as a guy, it had felt a little coarse against my newly-tender nipples.



I look up at Derek with doe-eyes, and he just sighs deeply. He goes back to his backpack and retrieves the least-revealing bra and panty set he has. “Here, I’ll tell them they got lost during the shoot or something.” I snatch the items like a hungry man grabbing a sandwich. I go back into the bathroom and get changed one last time. I return draped in my t-shirt nighty, and feeling surprisingly okay with wearing a bra underneath.



I hand Derek back the last of the garments I’d been wearing, and he finishes packing up his stuff. “Well, I’d say this makes us even. Thanks for playing along.”



I try not to grumble too loudly. Afterall, I didn’t have much say in today’s shenanigans. Then a thought occurred to me. “How am I supposed to get something to eat? I’m out of food.”



Derek sighs dramatically and shakes his head while grinning. “Looks like I’m always coming to your rescue,” he says with faux-exasperation. He reaches into his pocket and produces a handful of bills, which he places in my delicate hand. “This one’s on me for being such a good sport. Order yourself a pizza.”



“And what about tomorrow?”



Derek snorts. “You’ll be back to your normal handsome self tomorrow. You can go grocery shopping when you’re a guy again.”



I sigh, feeling a little defeated. “And what do I do until then?”



Derek shrugs. “I don’t know, I’m not the guy with a pair of boobs to play with all night long. When’s the last time you touched girl-flesh anyway?”



I instinctively blush. “Uh, I guess since college?”



“Sounds like you’re overdue then,” Derek begins hoisting his stuff up. “And since I have no desire to see my friend play with himself – er, herself,” he smirks at the correction, “I’m getting out of here. Have a lovely night, girlfriend!”



Derek showed himself out. With the sound of the front door closing, I was officially alone in my apartment with my new body. I stand there, feeling paralyzed with the sheer number of options open to me for how to spend my night. On the one hand, the smart thing to do would be to just treat this as a night in. Order my food, stretch out on the couch, and watch TV until I pass out, effectively killing time until I revert to my old self.



On the other hand, I’ve got an opportunity that most guys only get to dream about. Really the only thing in the way of that is my sense of modesty.



I begin pacing around my apartment, hearing the light slap of my dainty feet against the linoleum of the kitchenette and then transition to the worn yet soft carpeting of the living room caressing my souls. My shirt’s collar slips off my left shoulder, and I take moment to readjust. I pause for a moment, then pull my collar out so I can look straight down. My breasts fill most of my view downward, nestled in the bra I’m wearing like they’ve been holstered. If I arch my head a bit I can see my panties, and the disturbingly smooth crotch they’re covering. I decide it’s time to get better acclimated to this new body, and head back to the bathroom.



Parked once again in front of the full-body mirror, I take a little comfort in knowing that I’m alone now and can take my time a bit more now. I remove the shirt once again and let it land on the floor. As I look over my new body, I start to take in new details. My thighs are just thin enough to have a gap between them. My tummy is smooth, devoid of both fat and muscle. I unhook my bra and let it slide off my chest, allowing my breasts to hang free. They look sort of tear-drop shaped, but not so much that they look cone-shaped or drooping. They look orb-shaped, and just sort of hang there. I idly wonder if the women of my family have naturally big breasts or if this is just a side-effect of the chemical.



Another thought occurs to me: with my body so much slimmer, have I lost any musculature? I turn to the single window in the bathroom. This window has always been stubborn to open, usually requiring a decent amount of effort to open. I unlatch the window, slip my fingers under, and try to lift. Nothing happens, the window doesn't so much as budge. I plant my feet down, square up my shoulders, and give it much more effort. With a recalcitrant squeak, the window finally lifts up. I practically stumble back from the increased effort and breathing hard. I wasn’t exactly a body builder before, but I’ve definitely gotten physically weaker.



I cross my arms and lean on the window sill, taking a deep breath of fresh air. The warm breeze outside feels great on my skin, and I bask for a bit in the fading sunlight. As I gaze out on the world, I see a few people walking down the sidewalk outside. It was no one I recognized, but it felt nice to be reminded that the world continues to move on, even when my world has been rocked to its core.



Suddenly I remember I’m completely topless, and not a man anymore. Just as the figures on the sidewalk seemed to start looking up in my general direction, I quickly hit the floor like I’m being shot at. I awkwardly cover my bare breasts with my hands, even though I’m definitely out of sight now. After sitting there for several minutes, I quick pop back up to close the window. Unfortunately, I’ve already forgotten my reduced strength, and it takes both hands and quite a bit of effort to close the window back up. I lower the blinds and take a deep calming breath. Clearly, I need to be more careful of what I do, as even everyday activities like opening a window can threaten to expose me (in more ways than one).



At this point I happen to catch a glimpse of the shower. I consider the idea of doing a little ‘exploring’ while getting cleaned up. Afterall, I reason with myself, I haven’t had a shower yet today, might as well take the opportunity. In the back of my mind, I wonder what happens to any dirt or grime that’s on me when I transform (or for that matter, if anything happened to any existing grime that was on me when I transformed earlier). Ultimately, practicality won the day, as I definitely need to get cleaned up.



I suddenly remember that I’m still wearing the makeup from earlier, and that Lindsay had given me some facial cleaner pads. I retrieve them from the living room. Luckily, they have instructions printed on the packaging and while my first attempt at cleaning my face left huge streaks of makeup all over, the second and third wipes bring me back to the ‘au natural’ look. Something about having the layers of foundation, lip gloss, and eyeliner removed makes me feel refreshed for some reason.



With that taken care of, I strip off my underwear and fire up the shower. Once the water is warmed up, I tentatively step in. I’m not sure what I was expecting would happen when I stepped under the steady stream of steamy water; maybe all my senses would light up, or the roof would collapse. Instead, it felt like most every other time I’ve stepped into the shower. Sure the sensation was a little different (I chalk that up to a more sensitive body), but ultimately it just felt like a shower. I smile a bit, feeling a bit more secure.



That feeling goes away as soon as I look down. The sight of my breasts greets me, and they look just as attractive as ever, but now they have a wet sheen to them. Unable to resist the temptation, I begin to play with my breasts in the shower. I smush them together and watch how the various trickles of water stream down the valley I form.



My nipples perk up and poke out at the sudden attention they’re getting. Out of curiosity, I give one of them a playful flick. A wave of pleasure seems to flow over my body, and I gasp involuntarily. I begin tracing circles around both nipples now. It feels like my blood has been replaced with champagne, bubbly and happy. I begin to sigh and moan as my head spins with euphoria.



My hands seem to move instinctively to my butt next. I give one of my cheeks a playful slap. I instinctively jump a little, surprised at how good this feels. I begin massaging my butt with both hands. The champagne seems to flow through my body now, making me feel tingly and upbeat.



That just leaves one last place to explore.



Cautiously, I let my hand brush against my front door. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel overwhelming or immediately sends me over the edge. Instead, it just feels like my hand touching part of my body. Clearly, I’m going to need to get more adventurous. I let my index finger trace the outer folds of my vagina. My body shivers on its own, despite being immersed in warm water. I begin to let my fingers probe further inside me. The more I push in, the more intense the pleasure I feel. Before long, my head is spinning with natural endorphins, and any attempt to regain control is being thoroughly rebuffed. My body wants what it wants, and it’s going to get it.



After a few minutes of touching, rubbing, and the occasional gasp, it feels like a dam has broken in my head, and pure orgasmic ecstasy comes crashing through my entire being like a tidal wave. I begin uncontrollably crying out loud. Any attempt to regain control is quickly rebuffed as I reach climax. My legs feel like pool noodles, and I crumple to the floor into a ball of ecstatic bliss. My vision even seems to cloud for a second, though that might just be the steam from the shower.



Finally, the orgasm subsides, and I’m left sitting on the floor of my shower gasping like a fish out of water. When my head clears, I finally make my way back onto my feet (though my legs still feel shaky).