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I smiled in reply. Raji and I grew up in Bangalore under the strict surveillance of our parents. At 19, she looked like the typical angel from the heavens. I knew that there were many guys who would do anything under the sun for a date with her. I was thrilled to see her grow into a gorgeous teenager and obviously, my eyes were attracted to her sexy curves and wonderful well-shaped tender breasts. Not so surprisingly, she remained my favorite fantasy during all those masturbation sessions. I was understandably upset to know that she was in love with Karan. I was jealous of him although he was a handsome guy with neat habits and hailing from one of the illustrious families in the city. I knew that my parents had other ideas about Raji’s marriage and hence it would be impossible for her to convince them about Karan. Somehow, I realized that I had a fat chance of getting her laid if I extended some support to their love affair. Soon, she began trusting me to the hilt unsuspicious of my. Or blackberry and nettles, bee stings,blisters -- the usual first aid things. What happened was something noneof us ever could have foreseen.It was our fourth day out. We'd just stopped for a lunch break when wenoticed something coming toward us out of the east. It shimmered andlooked like a heat wave washing through the forest. It came so fast thatwe were paralyzed.As the shimmering wave passed over, I changed. One second I was a 40-something male and the next second, I was a woman. Just like that. Nowarning.My clothes adjusted with me. I felt a bra under my flannel shirt, whichbecame denim, the tails knotted around my waist to reveal a middle-agedmidriff. My blue jeans turned into cotton shorts, showing off femalelegs.I could feel different sensations around my body. My upper thighs werechilly without the warmth of my genitals. I could feel the fabric of mypanties in a whole new way. My new breasts were weights where I'd neverhad weight before. My fingernails were long. My hair was.
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McCarthy was an elderly widow with one son, and he had a wife and three boys of his own. She was a bit on the lonely side. She was close to only a few of the older residents on the road. Her son and his family visited every other weekend, but mostly she was alone with her recipe collection and her TV.“Jay Leno’s my favorite. I don’t know what I will do when he retires,” she said.“You watch him every night?”“Every night but Thursday. That’s bingo night, the Thompsons from up the road—you know, the house with the green and white trim— well, we go to the bingo together and after to the Old Loudon Diner for the Thursday Night Special. It’s usually turkey or ham,” she said.“So, you miss Jay Thursday night,” he said.“Oh, no—I tape him. My son got me this special DVV thing,” she said.“A DVR for the cable TV,” he said inspecting the setup that sat in the living room, “looks complicated.”“Yes, too much for me, but my son has it set. If I mix it up, when he comes, he resets it,” she said with.

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