Lady Ann's Holiday: Chapter Twenty Eight - Part One

Vulnerability

1

At breakfast, Ann felt a strange aloofness to the proceedings as though she were watching the scene on a moving picture.

Richard had arrived to join her and Grandmamma on his way to the office and he sat reading the newspaper while the ladies spread marmalade on their toast. It was lovely out on the balcony overlooking the park: warm but with a delightfully fresh breeze. No one was talking. They were each absorbed in their own thoughts.

The distance Ann felt from the scene prevented her from feeling the same peace and contentment she would normally have enjoyed. She was watching Richard and the more time that passed, the more she came to realize something extraordinary.

She had become so absorbed in her new life that it hadn’t occurred to her for a while to compare her performance as Ann with the former owner of that life. But she had noticed something that morning that made her do it now.

She realized quite simply that she was a far better Ann than the soul who was currently scuttling round the Griply estate doing labour. Because sitting there, watching Lord Hurley read his newspaper; reflecting on his behavior over the past few days; she realized that she didn’t love him. She didn’t love him at all. She only thought she had.

It crossed her mind to break off the engagement immediately but she wasn’t going to do that. That was why she was so much better than the former Ann.

She fully intended to go ahead with a marriage to one of the richest men in the country but she would use it to her own advantage, something the past Ann would not have had the foresight to do. The previous Ann had mismanaged her life at every turn until her final disastrous decision to trade lives with a dirty stable hand. The idiocy of the woman was beyond question.

No. The new Ann smiled coldly. She intended to take charge of her new life and do exactly what was necessary to get what she wanted.

2

The dirty stable hand in question reached the edge of Griply carrying two crates of vegetables as a delivery for the little village shop.

He still had no conception that he had been born a cultured and wealthy woman; a member of the aristocracy. As far as he was concerned he had always been Burt Harper, a labourer’s son. There was no memory high enough in his consciousness to tell him any different and he strode into the village proudly. There was no shame that he was only a servant. He’d known no other life after all. Doing chores and lugging heavy objects hither and thither was just normal life for him.

He had one crate on each shoulder, easy work for his strong arms. He could barely feel it and the knowledge of that gave him a lazy sense of contentment. He was the strong man of Griply valley; the boxing match had proven that for everyone.

A gaggle of girls on the corner tittered and whispered to one another as he passed. Burt found himself almost strutting, so proud he was of his physical endowments. His tryst with the vicar’s wife had shown beyond doubt that he was the most eligible bachelor in town amongst the lower orders. He bet he could have any woman he put his mind to now. Apart from the one he desired the most, obviously.

He sighed. It didn’t matter. When Lady Ann returned she would undoubtedly hear about his exploits and then who knew what might happen? She might start to notice him after all!

That would be right grand, that would. Right grand.

The fair was going for another couple of nights but as Burt passed the common he noticed that one of the stalls was packing away: the gypsy woman who had read his fortune.

He slowed as he neared. The old woman emerged from the partially dismantled tent carrying a box and saw him. “Good morning Burt,” she said, her bright eyes flicking up and down his body.

“Mornin,” he replied jovially. He remembered seeing her but little of the details. He must have got right bladdered afterwards. For the life of him he couldn’t work out what had been said.

“I see you’re feeling better,” she said.

“Aye,” responded Burt, but he wasn’t sure if she meant after the boxing match or something else.

“Your soul matches its body now. That’s clear enough.”

“Eh?”

“No matter. I’m just happy to see you being content.”

Burt frowned. He had no idea what this odd old woman was blathering on about. Though he had never understood gypsy folk. They were more than passing weird.

“You know who and what you are now,” she said. “You aren’t fighting against it all the time. I should imagine you feel a darn sight happier than most people.”

Burt shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I suppose.”

“And you do make a good servant.” She smiled mischievously.

Burt had a feeling she was having him on but for the life of him he couldn’t work out why. “How come you’re packing up?” he asked. He pointed with a toss of his head. “The rest of the fair ain’t moving on yet.”

The old gypsy placed the box she was carrying in the back of her little time-worn cart. She smiled her mirthful smile again and said, “I wasn’t part of the fair Burt Harper. I was only here to see you.”

3

Ann reflected on the coldness of her decision as she sorted through her jewelry, deciding which pieces would suit her outfit better. And she questioned if it was really how she felt. Did she really not love Richard anymore? Or was she just angry that he had treated her like a woman?

Perhaps it was the pinch of being sidelined when “important” matters were being discussed and put second to his work that made her feel this way. Perhaps her disappointment was that of any woman as she comes to understand her status in comparison to her future spouse, her second-class status compared to her man.

It was really rather hilarious when she came to think about it. Here she was: the thief of an aristocratic woman’s life and all she could think to do now was pick holes in the very femininity she had taken.

She put back the jewelry and walked to the window, feeling tetchy and confused. Her emotions were flipping and flapping in every direction, making her wish she could step off the earth for a minute. She placed her hands gently against her face, covering her eyes, nose and mouth and breathed deeply, the sound of it and the heat distracting her from her concerns.

When she lowered them the stable hand was at work again outside. She stepped back, a little too exposed so close to the glass, but kept him in sight, watching him again: his muscular arms and shoulders; his broad back.

She liked to watch him. It made her feel… nice. But she smiled to herself to think of her former life, loitering outside her paramour’s window, hoping for a glimpse.

How far she’d come from those days; and how near to them she was still.

But what if she were to sleep with this man? What then?

She missed the days when such matters wouldn’t really have concerned her; the freedom of promiscuity she’d possessed as a commoner. As a man she had taken what was freely given. As a woman, especially as a member of the upper class, it was all so complicated.

How would she go about doing it if she were to dare? She allowed herself the indulgence of thinking through what the sequence might be.

Coupling inside the house would be out of the question. Outside in the upstairs room he kept in the stable. That was where it would have to be.

And a credible excuse for her disappearance would need to be provided of course. She couldn’t be seen to be dallying with the help. A scandal of that nature might well ruin her matrimonial aspirations. She smirked to herself. Managing it was rather similar to plotting a murder. Every possibility needed to be anticipated and arranged.

But the real questions were: was she really prepared to go through with it and what were her true feelings for Richard? Did her affections really mean so little to her?

And did her lust mean so much?

Class - Finale

15

 

 

Barton was the seediest district in town. It was full of drug addicts, unemployed losers and council houses. We made it a rule to stay away from there normally.

Now though, we fitted right in.

I drove round until I found the end of the road I was looking for.

Their house was number seventy eight. I tried to get Tina to help me spot it while I drove but she kept asking me to remind her of the number so I got pissed off and just slowed down to look myself.

She had been highly academic before this started. Now though, it was like she was a bimbo. No brain at all. She was finding it hard to remember things and hard to think clearly enough to make any kind of decent suggestions.

“Oh my God!” she screeched suddenly, “Look!” She held out her left hand, palm down, in front of me.

“I’m trying to drive,” I snarled. “Pipe down.”

“My wedding ring! Look at it! It’s changed!”

I slowed the car down and glanced across. It was true. It wasn’t even a diamond anymore. It was a dull green stone with what looked like a sliver band.

“Tony baby,” she said, “We have to change us back real soon or it’s gonna be too late.”

I pulled in to the side of the road. “Shut up,” I said, “We’re here.”

We got out. The van’s engine carried on rattling for a few moments then shuddered to a stop. The buildings were narrow terraced council houses. The tiny gardens were littered with rubbish, half bald grass and mud. There was an engine block on the path to seventy eight and an old car with no wheels that had totally gone to seed on what was left of the lawn.

A fat woman was sitting on the step to the house next door smoking a cigarette, a baby in nappies balanced on her knee. “Mornin’ Tony,” she said, “Hiya Teen.”

I stared at her for a moment, then said, “Hi.”

Tina said “Hiya” behind me.

It was profoundly disturbing somehow being recognise looking like this. It made it clearer than ever that unless we did something to change, we were going to stay like this and no one would ever see us as our old selves again. To everyone else in the world – even to each other – we would be Tony and Tina Miller.

I got the keys out of my overall pocket and worked my way round the ring to the one I had tried in the door to our apartment.

It fit in the slot. And it turned.

Again I got a sick feeling in my stomach that magic was at work here that was distorting every aspect of our lives. We were assimilating every habit and belonging of those vulgar people as though they were our own.

The door opened. Tina and I walked fearfully inside. The hall was dingy and bare. Damp-stains climbed the walls on both sides. The carpet was threadbare. A section of it was folded up carelessly to reveal damp boards underneath.

There was no sound coming from anywhere.

“Is this their house?” asked Tina.

I didn’t bother to even respond to that.

“Hello!”

No answer.

We continued to walk through.

The lounge was the first door on the right. There was an old TV with sellotape holding the on button in. It was unplugged from the wall. A dead plant was on top of it. There were numerous dirty pots on the wide coffee table on top of old copies of football magazines and cheap women’s magazines. Cigarette butts spilled out of several ashtrays on the table, on the arms of the sofa and on the floor. There was a half full pack of fags.

The kitchen was empty too. More full ashtrays. Sink full of dirty pots. No sign of anybody.

“What are we going to do now?” said Tina.

I shrugged. “Fucked if I know.” We wandered back through to the lounge and plonked ourselves down on the scrappy sofa. “I guess we’ll have to wait for them.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant - where the original couple had gone, or when they might return. It seemed terrifying to be in that place by ourselves. It felt like a trap, poised, ready to snap closed. To any outsider, we were Tony and Tina Miller, sitting in our home, in our lounge, enjoying a relaxing morning. To an outsider, we were here in our natural habitat.

The thought of remaining here permanently made me shudder - of giving up all our wealth and dwelling amid this squallor, not caring as the Miller’s obviously didn’t, to be surrounded by such filth and clutter. 

I had always hated soccer, thinking from a very early age that it was a vulgar sport for working class idiots but one of the magazines on the coffee table caught my eye. I picked it up and started thumbing through it. Tina picked up a copy of Woman’s Own.

 “Why don’t you go and see if they’ve got any beers in the fridge,” I said, “I’m thirsty.”

“Awwww, do I have to?” whined Tina.

“Unless you wanna feel the back of my hand, yes,” I snapped.

I lit another cigarette from a pack on the coffee table as she got up, then carried on reading my magazine. It was really interesting and I started to wonder if there was a match on TV as Tina came back in with my beer. “Stick the box on willya,” I said, “We might as well watch something while we’re waiting.”

“Okay sweetie,” she said brainlessly. I shook my head and smiled. Fuckin’ stupid cow. Then I had a good look as she got down on her knees next to the plug socket. She had her bum in the air and her sexy smooth legs looked gorgeous in those heels. I pictured her on the bed back home, naked, as I took her from behind and the monster started to stir again.

The TV came to life and my eyes flicked back to it. Before the picture even faded into view I could hear the soccer crowds roaring. “This is more like it,” I said, leaning back, cracking open my beer and grinning. I took a long swig then had another puff of my cigarette. This was the life.

Tina got back to her feet and tottered round to my side of the set.

“Aw, football?” she whined nasally, “I hate football. Do we have to watch this?”

“Sit down and shut up. Read your magazine and leave me in peace.”

 

 

16

 

 

The game ended after an hour. I really got into it, getting up and roaring when Man U scored the winning goal. It was fucking great. I felt fantastic. I should have got into footie years ago. Course instead I was wasting my time prancing around like some nancy-boy watching plays and sipping wine. What a fucking twat.

“Honey?”

“Wot?”

Tina sat forward, exposing her cleavage. “What if they never come back? What if they’re at our flat right now living our lives?”

I fingered my moustache. That was right. What if they were?

“How could we make them change back?” she said, “We couldn’t. We wouldn’t even be able to get back into the building without security calling the police. Look at me. I look just like her now. I talk like her. I’m even getting stoopid, you know, like her.”

I folded my arms then unfolded them.

“But James?”

“Wot?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. Wot?”

She cringed. “I feel bad even thinkin’ it, let alone sayin’ it out loud.”

I tried to focus on what she was saying rather than on her tits and her sexy knees.

“I think I… I think I like this… being like this; more than…”

“Wot are you saying?” I asked, stepping closer. No longer able to resist touching her legs, I kneeled down in front of her and stroked her knees.

She looked down guiltily. “I like my body better now,” she said, “I like having these big tits and seein’ the way you look at me all the time - like you wanna fuck me and not give a damn who sees or where we are. And I like not giving a shit what people think of me - if I talk bad or not. Just saying what I please.” She put her hand on the top of my bald head. “And I think you’re a lot sexier like this. I even like it when you’re nasty to me. It makes me feel all feminine and looked after in a weird kind of way, like you’re really a man now, not a wuss like you were before. After seeing you like this - feeling like this - how could I ever find you sexy lookin’ like you used to? Bein’ so stuck-up and airy fairy like you used to? ”

My cock was bursting to get free. I tried hard to resist not burying my head in her tits.

“You must hate me for saying that,” she said.

I shook my head. I couldn’t hate her for voicing exactly what I was thinking too.

“I’m not sayin’ it has to be totally permanent. I’m not sayin’ we should give up all our money and stuff. But… What if we stayed here… just for a bit,” she said, “and lived these lives. Not forever. Just for a bit.”

I nodded, whispering, “Just for a day or two. Yeah. We might never get another chance like this. Just stay here and pretend we really are Tony and Tina. Yeah.”

Tina nodded, hopeful.

I stared at her then I looked round the room at the state of the place, the smoke-stained paintwork, the mottled net curtains.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a terrible mistake to think these things, to want to live like this - I knew our minds were being affected by the magic or whatever it was - but I knew that I didn’t give a fuck neither.

I wanted to be Tony Miller and I sure as fuck wanted to be married to this little chubby slut Tina. Why the hell would I want a jumped up little skinny thing when I could have this big woman in front of me. And why the fuck would I want to be a fucking  little stuck-up runt when I could be a real man?

Just stay here.

Just live this life.

That’s all we had to do.

Go to work as a car mechanic at Tony’s job in the morning.

Go out drinking every night in the local at the end of the road.

Be Tony and Tina Miller… for the rest of our lives.

I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I knew it was a mistake. At some deep, psychic level, it felt like if I said yes now then the exchange would somehow become permanent, that we would be trapped in these lives forever.

But I didn’t care.

I did want to be Tony Miller.

I was Tony Miller.

Bald. Fat. Hairy.

A car mechanic rather than an investment banker.

A forty a day smoker, into football and sex and beer.

And my wife was Tina Miller.

A chubby tart who threw her sexuality out at the world in every direction.

A stupid dozy cow who had dropped out of school with no qualifications and no nothing.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about nothing.

Not about losing everything I had before or gaining the things that I had now.

I didn’t care.

All I cared about was shoving my cock between those massive tits and cumming all over my wife’s face.

All I wanted was a tit fuck with my chubby slapper of a wife, some more beers and maybe another shag later after we’d watched TV for a bit.

I leant closer to do it.

Tina’s eyes quivered with delight and expectation.

I slipped the straps of her dress off her creamy shoulders.

I lowered my lips until they hung less than an inch above her tender boobs, my moustache tickling the skin.

This is me now, I thought, this is who I am.

Then I threw my head back and pushed away from her. “No!”

Tina cried out.

I got up and charged across the room, turning away from her, my hands up on my face. “No!”

“What is it Tony? What’s wrong?”

I glared back at her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?”

She stared back at me, uncomprehending.

“Look at us,” I said, gesturing down at my massive stocky body and oily overalls. “Look at who we’ve become! This ain’t right! We don’t belong ‘ere! Whatever did this to us… It’s poisonin’ our minds - making us feel like we really are these people - making us wanna be! We have to stop! Just fuckin’ stop!”

“But Tony,” she whined, “I do wanna be me like this. I wanna be sexy and loose. I don’t wanna be stuck-up and frigid.”

“No!” I bellowed, “No! That ain’t you talkin’! Just think for a minute. We ‘ad perfect lives before. Fuckin’ perfect! We was rich and good lookin’. We had a fuckin’ bootiful apartment. Amazin’ jobs…” I gestured round the room. “We don’t want this - this squalor. We don’t want to be these fat fuckin’ losers!”

“But Tony!” Tina started sobbing. “I’ve been fantasisin’ about bein’ with a bloke like you are now for ages. An’ I’ve wanted to put on weight and risk bein’ fat to be more voluptuous an’ sexy. I just didn’t ‘ave the balls before.” Her tears intensified. “I just want you to fuck me so bad right now Tony. And I know you want me just like I want you. I saw you havin’ a wank in the car last night when I came outta the shop. You was thinkin’ about her from the cliff top, weren’t you?”

I didn’t want to answer but I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Do you still love me?”

I lowered my head.

“Tony? Do you?”

I looked back up at her. She looked more gorgeous than any woman I’d ever laid eyes on. From her creamy shoulders and vamp face, down past her huge knockers, to her beautiful smooth shapely legs. “Christ,” I whispered, “Course I do. But that’s the fuckin’ problem Tina. The way you look now - the way you talk even. That’s what’s scarin’ me. I love you more than I ever fuckin’ have. I wanna shag you all the time. That’s fuckin’ obvious. But more’n that: I’ve got all these new feelin’s in my ‘ead about ya. Like I wanna protect you and like I wanna go out to work so you don’t haveta. An’ I feel these urges when I think of stuff - like these jets of rage. Like I think of some bastard lookin’ at ya when we’re out together - some wanker slidin’ his eyes up an’ down your body and it makes me want to… Shit Tina, it makes me want to fuckin’ smash that cunt’s face in. Just thinkin’ about it gets all my blood goin’; get’s my muscles pumpin’. I’d wanna get that fucker and kick ‘im in the balls.”

I looked at her with tears in my eyes. “An’ I’ve never felt like that about anyone, not never before.”

Tina hugged her arms across her chest.

“Let’s stay like this Tony,” she said, “Let’s just stay here and be Tina. Be Tony.”

I shook my head. “I can’t just walk away from—“

“Then call!” she snapped, “Call our apartment! See if they’re there! They must be! But do it without my blessin’.”

I sighed. “Don’t you see I have to?”

“I don’t see nothin’.”

“The longer we stay here in this scummy little house, the more we’re gonna lose ourselves in these lives. What if we forget who we’re supposed to be? What then?”

“Then we’ll be happy fuckin’ each other’s brains out for the rest of our lives!”

“I don’t want to be a car mechanic!”

“Well look in the fuckin’ mirror you fat bastard!” she screeched, “Cause you are one!”

 

 

17

 

 

I turned my back on her and found the phone.

I dialled our number angrily, misdialling once and having to cancel.

It started to ring at the other end and in the phased out limbo of waiting my mind immediately wandered back to the harsh words to my wife and I felt a shuddering wave of guilt.

I was angry with her because I was angry with myself. I knew that but I was too big a cunt to tell her that. I was angry with myself because I wanted exactly what she did. If anything I wanted it more if that was possible. There was a battle going on inside of me because I wanted this so bad but I was terrified that if I gave in to my urges I might regret it for the rest of my sordid tawdry days.

But it was getting harder to visualise exactly what I would be losing, to remember what was so great about it. All I remembered was being some jumped up little wimp barely out of puberty, thinking I was better than everyone else. I was a man now. A real man. I felt so strong and masculine. I felt like it was me looking after my wife, not my money. And I felt like I didn’t really need the money as long as I had her.

The phone was still ringing. No one picked up.

I dumped it back down into its cradle and sighed.

What the fuck was I going to do?

We didn’t know the first thing about how this had happened. We didn’t even know where our counterparts were. How could we ever change back?

 

 

18

 

 

I paused in the lounge doorway.

Tina was leaning back on the sofa, thumbing through a copy of a celebrity gossip magazine, her legs crossed.

“They aren’t there,” I said.

She looked up at me, worried.

I scratched the top of my bald head then smoothed my moustache thoughtfully. “We can’t go back there. We might end up gettin’ arrested by the pigs. And we don’t ‘ave the money to stay at a hotel that’s any better than this place. Until we get through to them or find them… we’re going to have to stay here.”

Tina’s eyes lit up but she restrained herself from speaking.

“We’re gonna have to just wait,” I said. “And it could be hours. Could be even days. If ever. I don’t know what even fuckin’ made this ‘appen.”

Tina pulled the strap off one of her shoulders. “Then let’s just pretend this is really our house… Tony. Just for a while. Let’s pretend we really are these people. Please.”

My eyes went down to her gorgeous legs. I was tired of this. I was tired of fighting something that my whole being wanted more than anything.

So I let myself grin and popped open the press studs at the front of my overalls. Then I started walking toward my sexy wife.

 

 

19

 

 

The water in the shower was so hard it stung my shoulders, but it felt good all the same.

I poured some shampoo into my palm and spread it over my head, only second thinking that I was bald now. It felt odd to be running the lather over bare skin but good as well. It was hard to vocalise but so much about our present situation seemed right. I smoothed it into what little hair I had, then rinsed it out and cut the stream of water.

There was a heated towel rail next to the shower cubicle. I pulled the large one off and wrapped it round my waist. The other towel on the rail dropped off onto the wet floor. I went to pick it up like I would normally have done but stopped mid-motion. I didn’t see why I should be doing fucking women’s work when Tina wasn’t even fucking working. That was her job. I brought the money in. She was the slave. I left it where it was and walked over to the sink.

Long-dripping taps had left brown stains on the porcelain. The mirror was steamed up. I reached over with my fist to wipe it clear and paused. There was a tattoo of a dragon on my hairy forearm that hadn’t been there before. It was an old one, the ink long-since faded to green. I turned my outstretched arm, flexing my tendons so I could see it clearly.

I liked it.

I remembered the night when I was eighteen me and the lads went and got it done after work. It was a right laugh watching that pansy twat Keith getting woosy when he saw all the blood. I remembered me mam balling me out when I got home after cause of it and the wink me dad gave me. As if to say, “That’s right son. You’re a man now.”

I wiped my eye then continued to clear the mirror. Then I thought to myself: Wait a minute. That never happened. I never got a tattoo. And my father would never have approved in a million years.

But I remembered it. I remembered it clearly. I remembered the names of every kid I was with that night. I remembered when I got my other tattoo done six months later, the girl in the bikini on my other forearm. I remembered the bird I was with at the time. It didn’t look like her but it was close enough to buy me a shag. She thought it was romantic. I just wanted a picture of a sexy bint on my arm. I never even seen her again after that night.

I remembered what I was wearing, where I was working at the time. Where I was working now - the garage at the end of the road. I remembered my boss, my co-workers Tommy and Geoff, Sally, the receptionist who was a sexy little tramp, just like her daughter Loraine. I remembered—

Fuck.

I remembered everything.

The mirror started to clear of steam by itself. My naked upper body came into view. Huge sagging belly. Stocky but muscular arms. Thick covering of curly black hair  across my chest, down my stomach, on my arms and across my shoulders. Bristly double chin. Bald head. Thick moustache. I tapped a fag out of the pack I’d brought up with me, stuck it in the side of my mouth then lit it, cupping my hand round the flame from habit as much as anything. Then I blew out toward the glass, the smoke hitting the mirror and spreading out in an inverted fan.

I shouldn’t be able to remember anything from my—from Tony Miller’s past. I weren’t there. I sure as shit shouldn’t be cupping my hands round a lighter flame out of habit. I’d not smoked a fag even once before this started.

I stared into this stranger’s eyes that looked back at me from the mirror beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Where was the fear? Where was the panic that this was happening? Why did it all seem so natural to slip into this man’s life as though it had always been mine?

Why wasn’t I scared shitless? 

But I wasn’t. There were several beers in me. I felt dozy. Drunk. As though this were all happening to some other person. But it wasn’t. It was happening to me.

And it struck me suddenly, as I stared into that unfamiliar face, as these memories of another life seeped into my mind, that maybe my own memories might be affected.

I pictured my mother, the image I had of her as a child and immediately felt relieved that I still could. I shuddered to imagine what it could have meant if my own memories were being overwritten by these crass ones. But they weren’t. There she was in my memory image, lounging on the sofa in my childhood home, a cardigan over her nightie, a fag in one hand, a half empty bottle of bourbon in the other, smiling her crooked smile at me that was beautiful despite the blackened tooth at the front of her mouth.

Then another memory came, linked to this one, to Christmas day that year; my father’s voice shouting at my mother, saying he knew about the men she’d been with, calling her a slag and a whore. I remembered crying and running to my room, thinking then what I’d do if my wife ever had an affair. What I’d do to her and to the fucker who—

No.

I shook my head.

This wasn’t right. None of it was. I put my hand to my temple, pressing hard enough to drive stars into my field of vision.

What was happening to me? When was it going to end?

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind, but I was starting to realise that there was no clearing it.

I’d thought the change was complete when my face and voice changed, when the overalls became oily; but I was starting to realise that the changes were still happening - still going on right now. And I didn’t know where they were going to stop. If I’d even know myself when they did…

 

 

20

 

 

Tina had the TV on when I entered the lounge. A soap opera was on by the looks of it.

She glanced up and shushed me then did a double take. “You’ve shaved.”

I nodded. “The bristles were pissing me off,” I said.

“But you didn’t shave off the moustache.”

My fingers went up to it. “No,” I said, “I…”

I didn’t know why I hadn’t. Hadn’t I always hated the things, always associated them with classless thugs who watched football and drank beer till they were sick?

I ran my hand down the smooth side of my fat face to where the bulge of fat hung under my chin. “I kinda like it,” I said.

Fuck me, what was happening to us?

 

 

21

 

We watched TV for a couple of hours. It started to get dark. I kept meaning to call the number of our apartment, see if our doubles had taken our places there by the same magic that had transformed us, but I couldn’t work up the enthusiasm. There were a couple of sitcoms that were pissing funny and I got carried away with a gameshow. Gameshows had never appealed to me before but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I talked a lot of shit before. I didn’t know what life was all about. What could be a better way to spend an evening than a few beers in front of a gameshow or two; maybe an episode of Eastenders?

But then again, what was I thinking? I’d always loved gameshows. Most nights if I wasn’t out on the piss it was possible to watch a string of sitcoms and gameshows right through until the news. Then I’d turn off and shag Tina before going to sleep.

That was what I did most nights.

After my bath I hadn’t wanted to get dressed in my overalls again. I stuck on a pair of old jeans from my wardrobe and my favourite football shirt. I’d owned it for years and it always felt good to pull the old thing on.

Tina went upstairs for the time it took me to smoke four fags.

When she came down she was wearing black heels, a black leather mini-skirt and a top with thin straps made of reflective plastic. She posed in the doorway, a fag hanging from her lip, a bottle in her hand, her face made up a bit over the top but how I liked it. She raised one eyebrow, blew me a kiss and winked. “How do I look?”

“You remind me of my mother.” 

She grinned. “Well would you take your mother out for a drink dressed like this?”

I got to my feet. “She always dressed like that.”

“Kiss me Tony,” she said.

I took her in my arms and pressed my chest up against her tits. Then I shoved my tongue between her lips and closed my eyes, shoving my right hand up her skirt and grabbing her inner thigh.

Then the phone started to ring.

“Jesus Christ. Who could be fucking calling now?”

I shrugged and went to pick it up. “H’lo?”

The voice on the other end of the line said, “Tony Miller?” It sounded like some posh bastard or other.

“Yeah.”

“Is that Tony Miller?”

“Yeah, this is Tony Miller. What do ya want?”

“My name’s James,” said the voice, “James Fountain.”

My mind blanked. I’d heard that name somewhere but I was fucked if I could remember where. “Never heard of you.”

The man on the phone paused. “You’ve never heard of James Fountain?” He sounded like a right stuck-up twat.

“No I fuckin’ haven’t,” I snapped, “Why the fuck would I have?” 

“Who is it?” asked Tina.

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “Some fucker thinks he knows me. Never heard of the bastard.”

“Well let’s go then,” said Tina, pulling her skirt up to show more of her leg. “I want you to get me drunk then fuck me in the loos at the pub like you did last week.”

I took my hand away from the mouthpiece. I didn’t need  no more encouragement than that. “Look mister,” I said, “I ain’t never heard of James whatisname and I’m busy, all right?”

“Is that Tina Miller I hear in the background,” said the voice.

“Yes it is,” I said, “You got a problem with that. She’s my wife. If you know what’s good for you you’ll fuckin’ stay away!”

“What do you do for a living Tony?” asked the voice.

“I work in the garage at the end of Duggin Street. I’m a mechanic. What the fuck are you?”

The voice said, “I’m an investment banker.”

Sounded more like an investment wanker to me.

“Look, piss off willya,” I said. “I’m on me way out and the last person I wanna be talkin’ to is some toffee-nosed cunt from the posh end of town allright?”

“Fine,” said the man, “Be my guest. I hope you have a good evening.”

I looked at Tina’s bountiful cleavage. “I fuckin’ plan to.”

I jammed the phone back down into place, cutting the signal.

 “Come ‘ere ya tart,” I said, grabbing her bare arm and pulling her close. I knew she was a pricktease and a flirt. I knew she probably gave it away when I was out. But I wasn’t perfect meself. I’d had me own share of sowing me oats with Sally the receptionist at work and a bunch of others. But Tina always came back to me and she knew I’d kick the balls in of any fucker I found her with.

But she was fucking gorgeous. A real slag in bed and I liked that. She didn’t have no education or nothing and she was about as thick as three short planks, but I wasn’t exactly blessed in the brain department meself.

It didn’t matter none. We was well suited and I’d never seen another woman could look so fucking sexy as she could.

I took her in my arms and started leading her out the door. We paused in the hallway and kissed again, tongues interlinked, my hand squeezing her tit, her hand groping my cock.

“I love you Tina,” I said.

“I love you too Tony,” she replied.  

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

(and they all lived happily ever fucking after)

Class - Part Two

9

  

“What is it? What time is it?” She turned her head from the pillow, looking up at me with sleep filled drowsy eyes that cracked wide open with alarm when she saw me.

She scrambled up onto her pillow, back against the headboard and screamed. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“It’s me,” I said, “James.” I reached toward her. She flinched. “I’m your husband.”

“I’ve never seen you before! Get out of here!”

I shook my head. “Something’s happened to us,” I said, voice still husky and unrecognisable, “We’ve changed. I woke up like this – all fat and hairy.” I held up my arms. There was thick curly hair covering my forearms.

She peered at my face. “James?”

“Yes. It’s me! I swear it is!”

“But it can’t be. You look so different.”

I pointed at the mirror. “Look at yourself,” I said.

She looked at the mirror. Then at me. Then she looked down at her own body.

She didn’t scream but her mouth dropped open and her lips quivered as she lifted her arms up in front of her.

She was still wearing the overlarge sleeveless dress from the night before but now it fit her! Her entire body had swelled, becoming voluptuous and full. Her arms and shoulders were soft and round instead of reed-like and slender. Her stomach bulged into a spare tyre rather than being perfectly flat. Her face wasn’t fat but it was soft and round, a slight double chin around her neck. The transformation was incredible. It was still her face and her hairstyle but her body and bulk was in every way the image of Tina, the woman from last night.

Theresa started to moan and then the moan became a stream of “no’s” that merged into a long drawn out shuddering cry. She shook her head over and over again. I wanted to comfort her but I caught sight of my hairy forearms again and couldn’t help turning back toward the mirror.

I stared at my bloated body – at the stubbly double chin and moustache – then I looked at the patch of pale skin I could see in amongst my hair where I’d pulled out a chunk moments earlier.

Slowly, irresistibly, I raised my hands to the rest of my hair and touched it. I gave a bunch of it an little exploratory tug - just a very simple soft pull – and the hair came away in my hands.

I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t utter any real words beyond a gravelly moan but I also couldn’t stop myself pulling at my hair. It came away in chunk after chunk, all my beautiful glossy hair falling away to reveal bald skin below. I tugged it more and more, become more and more desperate. It couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening!

But it was. And within moments I stared back at my fat, bristly face, only short black hair in a crescent above my ears. The top of my head was completely bald!

 

 

10

 

 

I was stunned.

I just stared at myself.

Minutes passed.

Theresa’s cries died away.

Then I sensed movement to my left and in the mirror I saw Theresa’s new chubby body come into view. I could tell that she was shell-shocked too. Neither one of us could understand or conceive of what had happened. I turned my eyes away from my own image and concentrated on hers.

I looked at her hips and smooth shiny legs, at the pretty skin of her feet in the high heels she had slept through the night in. I looked at her pot belly and smooth, slightly chubby arms. And at her sensational cleavage, fully revealed in the low cut dress. I stared at the soft plump flesh of her breasts. And suddenly I realised that the fear I had, the panic, was gone. In my now tight overalls, my erection pressed up against my overhanging belly.

And I thought… I’d love to shove my fat cock between those tits.

My eyes flicked up to her face. It shocked me because she wasn’t filled with fear anymore either.

She was filled with lust. 

Raw, animal lust.

She wanted me.

She had fantasised about being with a fat balding hairy man in overalls with a thick moustache and here he was standing in front of her. Here I was in front of her.

And she… She was the complete opposite physically to how she was before. There was nothing slender and elegant about her now. She looked like a real slapper – a real bimbo – and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anything.

I grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, shoving my face into her chest and kissing her neck. She cried out, “Yes! Oh yes!” her hands desperately stroking my arms and shoulders and my bald head.

I wanted her so badly and the bald head and fat belly pressing against her, the moustache I could feel as my lips touched her, pressing against her soft fleshy tits turned me on all the more.

I pulled the straps of her dress down off her shoulders and kissed the round creamy white skin. I tugged them down even further, pinning her arms by her sides and revealing her boobs. Then I took the nipples in my mouth and bit them. She screamed out, half in pain and half in pleasure.

“Oh yeah!” she cried, “Oh yeah! I like that you fat bastard! I like that!”

I chewed her soft skin, loving it; loving the feel of her new plump tits. Then I pulled her dress all the way down and manoeuvred her round to the bed. Her eyes were on fire as she fell back on the covers, knees pointing up, legs spread, high heels still on. I grabbed her calves, feeling the smooth soft skin. I was so fired up. I loved this new body of hers. God help me I suddenly hated her old slim body. I wanted this. I wanted her to stay like this from now on. She pulled at my overalls, popping the press studs and pulling my shoulders free. I glanced down as she revealed my hairy chest. It had been hairless before. Now it was a tangled mat of thick black fur. Theresa’s eyes widened but a grin formed on her lips. “You’re so sexy,” she gasped. “Come here you big sexy man!” She pulled me closer to her.

I got onto the bed, grabbing her smooth knees. She scrambled up so that she was on her knees in front of me then she pulled my overalls down around my new fat hairy arse.

My cock sprang up out of the fabric. It was huge – a couple of inches longer than it had been and wider. Theresa gasped when she saw and her grin widened. “Oh look James,” she said, “You’re a real man now. You’re so masculine.”

I took her head in my hands and started to guide her down to it. She resisted, pulling up, not wanting to. We locked eyes. Her gaze flicked down to my cock.

“Call me Tony,” I whispered.

Theresa smiled. “Tony,” she breathed. “My big man Tony.”

My cock ached to have her lips round it.

“And you call me Tina,” she said, her eyebrows crinkling - nervous.

“Tina,” I whispered, “My chubby little whore.”

Her eyes flashed again and then she let herself be guided down to my waiting cock.

It felt so good. I moaned loudly, “Oh yes, you fat little slag.”

I could see our reflection in the mirror and it turned me on even more: a fat bald man with a moustache. A chubby woman with huge tits hanging from her chest, leaning forward to suck his cock.

It was too good. I was going to cum too soon.

I moaned, pulling her off it and pushed her away from me, turning her round so that her fat arse was facing me.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “James, it’s too much. You know I don’t like it from behind.”

I slapped one of her bum cheeks hard. The peach-soft flesh rippled. Then I climbed over her, my fat belly resting on her bum. I grabbed her hair, pulling it slightly so that she felt a little stab of pain – not much, but enough to show her I meant business. “My name’s Tony,” I said, “And you’ll do it any way I fuckin’ say so you daft bitch. You’re my wife and you’ll do what I say if you know what’s good for you, all right?” I grabbed her tit and ran my other hand down the soft skin of her arm. “Besides,” I whispered, “You’re going to love it. I promise you.”

She whimpered. “Yes Tony. Sorry.”

I manoeuvred my dick up against her cunt, feeling her shiver.

Then I thrust inside, not caring that she was a little dry now. I forced my way in, grabbing her love handles and needing her arse as I pumped.

She was on her hands and knees, her entire body shuddering with each pump and as it went on I heard her start to moan in pleasure too. I looked at us again in the mirror. I saw my hairy belly resting on her fat arse. I saw my thick arms and hairy hands playing with her pendulous tits.

“Oh yes, Tony! That feels so good!”

I pumped harder. You’re nothing but a cheap slut,” I said, “Nothing but my chubby little whore!”

“Yes!” she cried, “Yes I am! Fuck me harder,” she screamed, “Fuck my like I’m your whore!”

Then suddenly I was cumming; my whole body shuddering, all movement taken over by the mindless animal part of me, punching my cock over and over again into her until I was completely spent.

11

 

 

I lay back against the headboard.

Theresa sat on the edge of the bed, her head lowered.

“What’s happened to us?” he said.

“How the fuck should I know?”

She looked at me. “Why you talkin’ like that?”

“Speak for yourself,” I said.

She touched her neck. “Does my voice sound diff’rent?” She paused. “Fuck me, it does!” Her voice was higher in pitch than it had been, a very nasal sound that came across at once as whiny and irritating as well as very common and working class. “What’s ‘appened to us?”

“We’ve turned inta that couple we saw at the cliff top is wot,” I said, walking over to the mirror and gasped. “Shit me. We’ve changed even more than before.”

She came and stood next to me. It was true. There was no sign in my face anymore of who I had been. I looked exactly like the man from the cliff top car park.

Theresa touched her hair, marvelling at it. She hadn’t had it cut but most of the length had vanished sometime while we were having sex. It was cut straight in a bob just below her ears now, swept back off her forehead. And her face – her face was Tina’s face. It wasn’t hers anymore at all.

Her eyes were slightly closer together, the lids thicker. Her nose wasn’t turned up anymore like it had always been. It was straighter and a bit bigger. Her lips were fuller too. She wasn’t who she was at all but she was still very sexy. Part of me thought she was a lot sexier than she was before but I felt immediately guilty for thinking that.

She looked at herself. “I’m not me anymore,” she said, “I’m ‘er. I’m Tina.” Tears formed in the sides of her eyes.

“Theresa…” I touched her arm.

“I’m not Theresa anymore,” she snapped. “Look at me! I was beautiful and thin! Now I’m fat and ugly!”

“You’re not fat.”

“I am!”

“You’re full-figured and voluptuous. And you certainly ain’t ugly.”

“Look at me!” she screamed. “Just fuckin’ look at me! And listen to the way I talk now! I sound like some uneducated fuckin’ slapper! I am a slapper! You saw how we were acting. We don’t just look like those people. We’re acting like them too!”

I turned my back on her. She was right of course. There was absolutely no denying that. “Theresa, we have to—“

“Stop callin’ me that! I’m Tina now! I don’t want my name to be linked with this flabby body! I don’t want you to call me that until we change back!”

“For fuck’s sake!” I stormed through to the bathroom.

What a stupid slut! What kind of stupid logic was that supposed to be?

I leant on my fists against the edges of the sink, glaring at my reflection.

Of course it wasn’t my reflection anymore. It was his.

Bushy eyebrows. Piggy eyes. Big wide nose.

I went back through and opened the wardrobe. Tina was on the bed, feeling her boobs. “Put some clothes on for fuck sake,” I snapped. I grabbed a pair of slacks and one of my Armani shirts. The last thing I wanted to wear was that set of overalls. I didn’t know what had caused this transformation to occur but dressing like him and acting like him must have been a factor. I pulled the jeans up my legs and got as far as my thighs. They wouldn’t go any further. I grunted and wheezed, pulling harder and managed to get them up round my arse after several minutes of effort, but there was no way in hell I was going to get the zip done up or the button. I gave up and kicked them off in a rage. It wasn’t even worth trying the shirt but I held it up to my chest. It looked like a teenager’s shirt next to my new manly body.

Tina gazed mournfully at her own clothes. She was taller and broader now. She too wasn't going to be able to fit in them.

We both turned sourly back to the bed and the clothes we had bought the night before.

Tina walked around to her side of the bed and picked up the large knickers and started putting them on and I grabbed the overalls. They had been left inside out from when we fucked. I reached my hairy arm down into the leg and pulled them the other way out.

“No way,” I said. “No fuckin’ way!”

“What is it?”

“Look at these,” I said, holding them up for her. “Just look!”

“What is it?”

“They’re covered in oil is fuckin’ what,” I bellowed, “Look! Old fuckin’ oil!” I pushed them at her and she recoiled. “They were brand new yesterday! Now they look like I’ve been fixin’ cars in them for years!” I shook them at her and then looked down as something black and square dropped out of one of the pockets.

It landed on the floor between us. I knelt down with a wheeze to pick it up.

“What is it?” asked Tina, and reaching for her dress.

“It’s a wallet.”

I turned it over in my hand. It was old and battered, the leather cracked and worn. A single clasp with a press-stud held it closed. I undid it and flipped it open in my palm.

It was his.

There were a couple of old five-pound notes and a twenty shoved into one of the slots next to a credit card. A zip-up pocket was filled with heavy change. In a plastic window was a picture of him and her, Tony and Tina. He was wearing a vest. She was wearing a bikini. Her hair was tied up in a bunch on top of her head. They were both laughing. Tina was pitching forward, her plump cleavage fully revealed. My cock stirred just looking at it.

In a slot toward the back was a badly creased photo driving licence with a picture of the face I now had and a full name and address.

Tony Miller.

The address was somewhere down in Barton, on the other side of town. I recognised the road name. It was part of a council estate.

“It’s his,” I said. “Tony Miller.” I looked at her. She had pulled the dress on over her head and was just straightening it over her pot-belly. “That would make you Tina Miller.”

“Fuck me Tony,” she said, “Wot’s goin’ on ‘ere?”

“Don’t call me that!” I snapped. I threw the wallet down on the bed.

“Well pardon me for breathin’,” she said, her voice rising in pitch, “but you don’t look much like a bleedin’ investment banker now do ya?”

I folded my arms. “Why are you being such a stoopid bitch? There ain’t no way we’re gonna be stuck like this, an’ I’m not lettin’ you call me that, all right?”

“I’ll call you what I want,” she snapped, her irritating nasal voice clipped and sharp, her fists on her hips. “I’m your bloody wife ain’t I? It’s my right!”

I grabbed her by the hair, pulled her forward and shoved my stubby finger in her face. “I told you to do what I fuckin’ say. I fuckin’ warned you!”

“No! Please!”

“Stop whining you daft cunt!” I snapped, “I’m not gonna hit ya!” I threw her onto the bed.

“I didn’t mean no harm,” she whined, “I just thought it was better to call you that til we swapped back.”

“Well it’s not!”

I snatched up the overalls and struggled into them. Now I was so fat it was hard to get them up round my shoulders. The oil was ground into the fabric. It was never coming out. It stunk of it and of bad B.O. and cheap aftershave. I picked up the boots that she had bought the night before and pulled them roughly onto my feet.

“What are you doing?” asked Tina.

“We’re going out,” I growled.

“Out? Where?” Tina looked stricken.

I picked up the wallet and shoved it in my pocket. We’re going to find those two bastards we saw on the cliff top and find out how they did this to us and then we’re going to threaten to break their faces if they don’t fuckin’ turn us back!”

Tina got to her feet fearfully. “We can’t go out like this. What if people see us?”

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Now that my face had changed I looked exactly like Tony Miller. It was as though I were looking through a window at him rather than into a mirror. “Then they’ll see us,” I said sullenly, “so fuckin’ wot. They’ll see us as we are now.”

“But they’ll know it’s us. They’ll laugh at us!”

I prodded her in the chest. “Don’t be such a dunce! What the fuck’s ‘appened to your brain you daft bitch? You’re actin’ like your thick or somethin’.”

“I’m sorry Tony.”

“James, you stupid cunt! My name is James!”

She cowered. “I’m sorry! James!”

“No one’s gonna laugh at us cause they’ll just think we’re who we look like – a fuckin’ car mechanic or somethin’ and his slutty wife.”

She started crying again. “I don’t wanna go out.”

“Well you’re comin’.” I grabbed her arm. “Put yer shoes on and stop sniffling or I’ll fuckin’ lamp ya!”

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. For a moment I had a mental image of Theresa as she was all her life. Such a gesture would never have occurred then. She would have dabbed at her nose with a silk handkerchief.

Shit, what was happening to us?

I grabbed my keys off the hall table and pulled her forcefully out the door, slamming it after me.

“Wait,” said Tina, “I want to get my coat. Anything to cover up this cleavage.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“Please. I just want to cover up.”

“Okay!” I snapped and shoved the key back in the lock. Behind me I heard the lift door ding open. “Something’s wrong with it,” I said, frowning.

“Wot?”

“Fuckin’ thing’s jammed,” I said, “It won’t open.” I tried again but the key wouldn’t turn in the lock.

“Excuse me sir.”

I turned. Reggie, the building security guard was standing a few feet away. He was dressed in the same uniform as always but the normally sedately polite expression was absent. “Can I ask what you think you are doing?”

I looked at the lock and at Tina’s dull-witted face. Then I looked down at my clothes and back to Reggie. I knew what this looked like and I had absolutely no way of explaining myself. He was never going to believe the truth. “I’m er… I’m just visiting a friend.”

Reggie’s expression remained closed and sceptical. Tina tugged at my arm. “Tony, let’s get out of ‘ere.”

“Would you mind stepping away from the door please,” said Reggie.

I pulled the keys out and did so. “I know ‘im,” I said. “He’s a frienda mine.”

Reggie stepped forward. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I call the police and you can explain that to them.”

I dropped the keys in my pocket. Then I smashed my fist into Reggie’s face.

Tina screamed.

“Scarper!” I shouted. I grabbed her arm and dragged her to the lift. Reggie was on the floor, gripping his face.

The lift closed before he could get up. My pulse was hammering. Tina was blubbing. “What did you do? What did you do? You hit him! James, you’ve never hit anyone in your whole life!”

Then she just stared at me because I started laughing. I started laughing and I couldn’t stop. A deep slanting uncouth ah ah ah ah ah! That came up from my chest and bellowed out, shaking my enormous belly. 

12

 

 

By the time we ran out into the underground car park we were both laughing.

Tina’s laugh was high pitched and too loud. It came out in a nasal hih hih hih hih hih! She ran after me towards our reserved parking space, tottering in her high heels as I lumbered in my big black boots.

It had felt so great to lamp that fucker in the face. He deserved it for pissing me off and it was like nothing I’d ever felt to really lay someone out like that. I’d never been a violent man but I was starting to think that the person I’d been before was a bit of a fucking wimp. When I got back to being myself I was going to be a lot more manly – not so much like a fucking poof, prancing about in expensive suits and going to the opera. I wasn’t so keen on going bald but I liked my moustache. When I got back to normal I was going to grow one just the same. Maybe get a couple of tattoos as well.

When we got to our parking space I stopped short. Tina came up behind me and gasped.

The Mercedes was gone!

And in it’s place was the exact same van we’d seen the Millers get out of at the cliff top! 

13

 

 

“This ain’t possible,” I said, slapping my bald head, “This ain’t fuckin’ possible!”

“What ain’t?” asked Tina.

I glared at her. “You really have lost the plot ‘aven’t you? You really did become stupid!” I pointed. “The car! The fuckin’ car’s gone and that piece of junk’s been left in its place!” I looked back toward the lift. “Shit, we’re going to have to use it anyway or that bastard’s going to have the pigs here. Last thing we fuckin’ need is to get arrested now, lookin’ like this.”

I pulled the door handle. It was locked.

“Jesus Christ,” said Tina, voice rising in pitch again, becoming even more nasal, “what are we goin’ ta do?”

I got my bunch of keys out. Hand shaking, I put the car key into the lock. I felt sick to my stomach when it turned and the lock disengaged.

But we had to get in. We had to get out of there.

“Come on!”

It stank inside. There was dirt and dust everywhere. Empty beer cans and rubbish in both foot wells. The ash tray was open and overloaded with cigarette butts. A pack of cigarette’s lay in the cavity on the passenger side of the dashboard. In the back of the van were assorted oily or rusty car parts, strewn all over amongst the rubbish.

Tina got in the other side and turned her nose up, daintily flicking what rubbish there was onto the floor.

“Hurry the fuck up!” I snapped. “Just get your fat arse in here, you daft cow!”

She climbed in. I gunned the engine and we blasted out the doors, the engine growling and backfiring, clouds of black exhaust spewing up behind us. 

14

 

 

“Give me one of those fags,” I said, pointing to the cigarettes on the dashboard.

“But you don’t smoke,” said Tina.

“Look,” I said, losing my rag again, “As you keep telling me, I’m Tony Miller until I get my own body back. Tony Miller smokes. Now give me a fuckin’ fag cause I fuckin’ want one!”

“All right.” She reached for them.

“Why don’t you light it up for me and have one yourself.”

I came up to a junction. There was a lot of traffic and the car on the side road was hoping I’d stop to let him out. I accelerated. I knew I would normally stop but I suddenly couldn’t see why I should slow down just so some fucker could push in front of me. Let him wait!

Tina handed me a lit cigarette. I glanced across at her. “Thanks luv.”

It felt great to have a strong inhale. It felt as though it were an old habit. There wasn’t a trace of a cough as the smoke filled my lungs and it immediately relieved a lot of the tension I was feeling.

She had a cigarette of her own in her mouth and God did she look hot. It wasn’t Theresa anymore in any way. She was completely Tina now, from her vacant expression to her mannerisms, the way she moved her hands. Her huge tits. Her sexy unsophisticated looks. My cock swelled inside my overalls. I realised I didn’t want her to be Theresa. Why would I want some tight-assed frumpy frigid stuck-up bitch when I could have this sexy bit of fluff? No, I didn’t want Theresa. I wanted Tina. I wanted her. I still hadn’t got my tit-fuck yet and I wanted it real bad now. If there was any way I could work it that she stay like that when we changed back then I was going to do it.