Paying attention to detail

I went back to my room, leaving Gerty and Robert to work out what those changes meant to them, as I had a hot date with a very messed up employer. My room was clean, damp and quiet so I closed the door, found the complimentary biscuits and was about to watch TV to see what news coverage there was of the event when a familiar knock on the door heralded the return of Mike.

"Mike, stop swearing, I know you're frustrated, but stop swearing. Where's the $200?"

"Right here, and I need you now."

"Condom?"

"Here."

And to gloss over a frantic ten minutes, Mike was satiated and I was enjoying the post coital drain of energy when Mike began to properly examine himself, and since watching a fantasy explore itself is work of the very highest calibre, I somewhat joined in.

He had not bothered to take his leather catsuit off - it had. of course, a zip between the legs and so he was exploring him at skin level for what seemed the first time.

"I've not actually had a clear enough mind to work out everything there is" he admitted.

Starting with the zips on the inside of each leg, which opened upward gave him access to his platform boots, shiny black and with about a six inch heel and a two inch platform. He undid the zips and took his boots off, leaving sheer stockinged feet. He stood up and found it impossible to put his heels on the floor. "Dammit, feet that must wear heels, yup, that was part of the script" he muttered to himself as his heels hoveed about four inches from the floor, sat back down and undid the zips from wrist to elbow and down the front of the catsuit. I helped him shrug the leather off his shoulders, as he was having difficulties manipulating the material with the long fingernails. I noticed that the leather was soft and lined with a satin lining. Under the pink satin slip which I guess was part of his original costume, his bra contained considerable mounds of flesh, but when the bra was released there was no sag - his breasts simply stayed pointing straight out. What was absolutely noticable now that the nipples were released from fabric is that they were unnaturally wide and long, on areolas that gave them further distance and height. Each one did not look like a normal nipple, more like a tube with a hole at the end. Perhaps Mike had not encountered a real nipple before, because each looked more like a small straw with a single opening. He lifted each breast and examined it. It looked not quite right.

"May I feel?"

"Pervy bastard" he said, but his body moved as if to say yes.

The breasts were light, as if filled with air, certainly not solid. When I let them go they went straight back to pointing straight out, nipples erect.

"I know that they are going to get bigger" he said sadly as he looked down at them.

"What do you mean?" I asked

"Didn't you notice when I first walked in, they were much larger than this. This is small size - they grow as I get hornier."

He stood up and balanced on the balls of his feet as he removed the rest of the catsuit, garter belt, stockings and pink matching satin knickers. Now naked he went into the bathroom to examine himself in the mirror. There was somthing wrong with his walk. He looked every inch a shapely and beautiful woman, but when he walked his walk didn't match the body. It took me a while to realise what it was, and my suspicions were confirmed when he came back in the room and sat down, facing me, legs wide apart, bush in full view.

"Mike, you walk and sit like a man."

Mike closed his legs and blushed.

"That is hardly the worst thing though, is it. I'm Mike, and suddenly I'm Mike in a womans body, and some of my brain has been taken over by this body and it's really horny and the only thing that I know for sure is that I need to know where the next screw is coming from, because that little bit of my brain that is operating this body is going to give me about eight hours of peace before I go mad again and need sex. And I can't afford $600 a day to feed this habit. You are a bastard Jesse, taking advantage of me like that. Give me my money back."

Just when I thought I was beginning to understand Mike he went off in another direction.

"No, and if you've not found someone else to screw in seven and a half hours, I'll be wanting another $200 from you. This is a business arrangement."

"Bastard." He went to my closet and helped himself to one of my cotton shirts. As he put it on it changed, and after a few seconds was a form hugging, fitted PVC shirt revealing a cleavage and tight waist.

He went into a tyrade of expletive abuse about his condition. Frankly I was somewhat interested in what was going to happen, so I sat on the bed while he tried on different garments from my wardrobe. Cotton boxer shorts - shiny crotchless latex knickers. Polyester trousers - PVC hobble skirt. Cotton running shirt - satin negligee, every piece of normal garment turned into somthing fantasy and more suited to a brothel. As he took the garment off it reverted to it's original form. Naked worked, from there on it was strictly glamour, exotic dancing and materials entirely unsuited to a temperate climate. Even my spare running shoes morphed into high heeled patent ankle boots.

"I need a pee." he said

"Remember to sit down."

While he was in the bathroom there was a loud hammering at the door. I looked through the peephole and found a man in a shirt and trousers waiting patiently for me to open the door.

"What do you want?"

"I found your room number in my room and I wondered if you knew where my pony is?"

OK, think fast. Deny knowledge, door comes in, get beaten up. Say I know somthing, have to let him in. Might get beaten up. Mike will be no good in a fight. Least best alternative...

"Yeah, I saw your horse, she needed water and when I got into the room she barged past me and ran off. And I left the note to let her know which room I was in if she came back..."

"How is a horse going to read a note, are you simple or somthing?"

She's a clever horse, no. Introduce someone else, will get complicated. Act stoopid?

"Of course, you are right. I'll let you in."

Simon seemed normal enough. He came in, sat down on the bed, I sat in the desk chair, I offered him some tap water.

He told me a whole backstory that simply could not be true - that he had driven down this morning from his ranch with his best pony in a horsebox behind his station wagon, was exhibiting his pony at a horse show, and suddenly for no reason the pony began to act all skittish and play up, and he couldn't control her properly so he went to take her home and the horsebox had been stolen, so without anywhere else to take her he took her to a hotel room (which seemed odd to me but fine to him) and left her in the room while he went looking for his trailer, and there were a lot of crazy people about all in a panic, and the law enforcement was about stopping him moving about, and he got interviewed by people and sent back to his room and found his pony had escaped and that there was this room number written on a scrap of paper, so how was I involved in all of this and where is his pony?

"I honestly don't know."