Exchange Students

He draped them over his arm, feeling a bit awkward to be doing that in a public store, but realizing that it really wouldn't look awkward for a girl. He proceeded to the panties, and then caught the eye of a couple of boys looking at him, looking at the pretty girl with the short skirt, tight sweater, perky boobs, carrying a ton of brassieres over her arm. Frankly, they seemed to be more leering than looking, and he glared back at them. They quickly looked away. He couldn't really blame them, of course. He would have done the same thing, as a guy. But, as a girl, he didn't really appreciate it.

When he got to the panties he was again stuck. What the heck were these sizes? The doctor said she was a petite 12. But, the size 12 panties looked awfully big to him. Frankly, it seemed to him that she was well on the small size, hence the word 'petite.' She wished the saleslady was still there. He could ask her. But, he then realized he really shouldn't ask her. At his age, a junior in college, he really should know his own panty size. Although, what was her age? He didn't even know that. He knew she was a college student, like himself, but for all he knew she could just be a freshman. Well, no matter what class she was in, she most certainly would be at least 18 and would have to know her own panty size.

He studied the panties for quite awhile. He actually didn't mind doing that. These were even more fun to consider, to feel, to explore, to fondle. He probably should, though, go to the dressing room to see what size he was currently wearing. The warmth in his thighs was getting stronger and stronger. He knew that if he still had his own body, he would be sporting quite a big erection right now. One advantage of being a girl is that you can get pretty darned excited without anyone being the wiser.

The professor appeared behind him. The saleslady had drifted far away, around a corner and out of sight, and he wanted Michael to hurry it up. "C'mon, c'mon, pick something out and let's get going," he urged. He didn't feel this was going so well, and he was getting more worried about bumping into someone he knew, or knew her.

Michael was annoyed. He was finally beginning to enjoy this and now the professor wanted him to hurry it up. He decided to take two sizes: 2 and 4, plus quite a few options within each size. He didn't select as carefully as he had done with the brassieres, but he still got quite a variaty.

"What are you doing?" the professor complained. "You don't need all of those!" He knew that girls tended to buy a lot more clothes than they really needed, but this was a boy for goodness sake. Maybe his mind was becoming more feminine the longer he was in her body? That would make sense, but it concerned him. When he returned the students back to their own bodies he was assuming that there would be no lasting harm from occupying the body of the opposite sex, but perhaps that was naive. Michael was so far, up to this point, rolling with the punches, but he wondered how Marcia would take to becoming more masculine.

Michael though was not becoming more feminine, or at least he didn't think so. In any case, it was his male gender that motivated him to buy all of these panties. They would again be another great souvenir. And, besides, he kind of liked sticking it to the doctor. "I don't know what size I am, and I gotta have a fresh pair, don't I?"

He was right about that, the professor acknowledged. But, it was like he was buying enough for a whole week. Still, given that he didn't really know if he would have the apparatus fixed by tomorrow, a few more extra panties might not be a bad idea. Of course, why couldn't the boy wear his own underwear? Who was going to look under his skirt?

Well, he didn't really want to get into an argument with Michael in the store. What if that saleslady came back? Besides, the cost of a few extra panties was more than outweighed by the benefits, prizes, and rewards he would receive with the publication of this study. In fact, the garments, as part of the study, would also be tax deductible. He really shouldn't be so restrictive. Let the young man buy anything he wanted. He needed to keep his eye on the ultimate prize, the Noble Prize.

Michael dumped all of the panties and brassieres into the shopping cart. It was getting pretty full. They stayed only a short time within the make-up section. Michael was not the least bit interested in this, but the professor did say that they should get some things, like perfume, rouge, eyeliner, and mascara. But, the selection was so difficult and they were so worried about that saleslady returning. The professor just grabbed what looked like the closest to what she, he, was currently wearing. But, even the lipstick seemed awfully difficult to match.

With that last set of purchases they appeared to be done. They now only had to get through the checkout line and they would be home free. The professor, though, noticed one additional matter as they passed through feminine health care and beauty products. "Do you think she, um, you, well, need some feminine hygiene products?"

"What?!" Michael's face turned a deep red, as he glanced over to where the doctor was gesturing. There were all sorts of things: sprays, douches, powders, lotions, and soaps, all for what was in between his legs. He had no fucking idea, and he had no fucking interest in any of them. "No fucking way, doc," he spoke with considerable authority, and not at all sounding like Marcia.

The professor could hardly blame him, but he felt he should at least bring it up. He wondered if he should bring this up with Marcia. He was intending on calling her that evening, to see if she was doing fine, or at least holding to the agreement, the contract. And, there was one quite important matter. "Yea, well, we should at least get some tampons."

Michael looked away in mortified embarrassment. He felt like a prepubescent girl out with her father, shopping for her first tampons, or at least he imagined that its got to feel pretty much just like this if your dad took you out to purchase them for the first time. He started to walk faster, trying to separate himself from this man. He really didn't want to talk to him about this, although he had to admit that he did see a tampon in Marcia's purse. Maybe it was the time of month for her? For all he knew she might have one stuck up in there right now? What a screw that would be! He gets a girl's body for the evening and she's on the rag the whole time! If he was renting it, he would definitely ask for his money back.

The professor could see his embarrassment, but he did reach over and pick up a box. He had no idea though what size to purchase. Why did there have to be different sizes for these as well? Well, actually, it made sense to him that there would be different sizes and he certainly didn't begrudge Marcia for not telling him her tampon size. Although, when he did pick up one of the boxes, they didn't really seem to be different sizes more than they were different strengths, plus there were different applicators (plastic and cardboard), scented and unscented (he picked scented, that sounded nice), and then four different degrees of flow: lite, regular, super, and super plus. She was awfully petite, so he doubted he would need the heaviest size. But, in a matter such as this, it was best to err in the direction of too much rather than too little protection.

"Doctor," Michael complained, standing down at the end of the aisle. "Hurry it up, that saleslady is coming back." She actually wasn't, but he wanted him to end this now. He was taking much too long to pick something that there was no way he was going to use. Although, actually, if it was happening, he knew he didn't have a lot of choice in the matter. He felt like telling him that the next time he does this experiment he should really screen out the girls that are on their periods.

The doctor grabbed a box for super flow: Pearl, plastic, super scented. That seemed good. He dropped it into the cart and they made their way to the check-out line. Michael stood off by the side. He didn't want to even watch him buy the tampons while he was standing right there.

The cashier was a bit surprised at the extent of the purchase. The number of blouses and skirts weren't that unusual, but so many brassieres and panties, and two different sizes. Well, she had seen worse.

The two of them were rather quiet on the ride to Michael's apartment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As soon as Marcia had left the research building she opened her purse, retrieved her compact mirror and studied the face. She had not yet been able to see what she now looked like.

'Goodness,' she thought, 'he is cute.' That was at least something. He has dark, thick wavy hair, a sharp, rough, manly chin, even with a bit of stubble (now it didn't seem so bad to her; in fact, it looked kind of nice in the mirror), and really nice, sweet, even romantic blue eyes. Well, at least she had been put into a nice body. That was some sort of consolation.

But, she then realized that she, or he, was holding a purse. That would have to look awfully weird. She clutched it to her side, hiding it with both hands as she quickly made her way back to her apartment. She lived alone, which was certainly good, given her situation. As she made her way to the second floor location of her apartment she briefly worried about someone seeing her, or him, entering her apartment, but just as quickly got over it. He could easily just be a relative, a cousin or, even better, maybe a boyfriend. She didn't mind her neighbors thinking that she had a cute boyfriend, and even one who now had a key to her apartment.

Tammie, who lived across from her, had tried to set her up with a guy a couple of times. It obviously didn't work. She didn't mind Tammie trying but she really hated blind dates: all the tension over whether he would like you, whether he would think you were pretty enough, whether he might obviously just want to end the date as soon as possible. Plus, the conversations on blind dates were just awful. They would both try so hard to pretend like what a surprise it was that they were such a great match, and isn't Tammie a wonderful person, when in fact by the end of the evening they were largely bored, the novelty had worn off, and they were noticing things they didn't like in each other. They promised to get in touch, but they never did, and both hoped that they wouldn't run into each other again, which made it difficult going out with Tammie. Well, this might at least end that. Perhaps she should even stop by to see Tammie, introduce herself, himself, my self, as a guy, as a guy dating Marcia. This was a little hard to get used to.

As soon as Marcia got into her apartment she felt so much better. All around her were things she recognized, the things that were hers, the things that defined who she was, as a girl. She instantly went to her bedroom to get out of these boy clothes and into one of her own outfits. She knew she would feel a whole lot better when she was wearing a nice frilly dress, a pretty blouse, perhaps even put on some perfume and make-up, making her feel, once again, like the girl she really was.

She tore off his shoes and socks, noticing with disgust that one of the socks had a hole in it. What is it with guys anyway? Don't they have any self-respect? She then took of his shirt, and stopped. 'Goodness,' she thought, 'he does have a nice chest.' She paused for awhile to admire its muscle tone, its strength. She went over to her wall mirror and stood before it. 'Whoa! He is not only cute, but gosh darned muscular and manly.' She clenched her chest muscles, admiring how toned and crisp they were. She turned to the side: not a bit of a paunch, really nice abdomen. She ran her fingers along his stomach muscles. He was even a bit ripped. She stood facing the mirror again and raised up her arms, clenching, squeezing her, his, biceps in the traditional muscle pose. It was a silly pose, but it really looked kind of nice.

Her interest, her curiosity, went somewhere else, someplace a bit more interesting, someplace even more masculine than his chest and muscles. Her heart began to race as she slowly undid the buckle of his belt, the button for his slacks, and slid down the zipper. 'Oh my goodness!' she thought. She was actually taking down a boy's pants! It was a little strange watching herself do it, and certainly even more strange doing it to herself, as the boy, but that did not diminish the drama, the excited expectation. If anything, it made it even more intense, watching herself do it. Plus, she was by herself. She was feeling no pressure of the boy's watchful eyes, wondering what he was thinking, worrying what he was thinking. She could explore this boy all by herself. Perhaps the professor had been right, perhaps this might be interesting; in fact, real, real interesting.

She pulled down his slacks, stepped out of them, and turned back to the mirror. Now he looked a little silly, standing there in his jockey briefs. Jockey briefs were for boys, weren't they? Didn't real men where boxers? These were the undies that her little brother wore. It was a little disappointing. Nevertheless, he did still look awfully cute, standing there in his briefs. She could now see his muscular thighs, and more fully appreciate his narrow waist. She turned to the side. He even had a bit of bulge, and her face reddened as she gazed at it.

She had never actually seen a naked boy's penis before. Well, that's not at all true. She had seen plenty of pictures of them. It's kind of hard to avoid them on the internet, even when you wanted to. Well, that's also not true. You did have to look for them, but they were pretty easy to find. But, she had never seen one in real life before. She could feel a strange sensation in her, his, loins, his crotch, a sense of growing energy, even movement. 'Oh my goodness,' she realized, 'he's, I'm, getting a boner?!'

She pulled down his underwear, kicked them aside, and returned to look in the mirror.

And, there it was, just beginning to swell, standing out from her a bit, like a big, thick, heavy, worm. Well, that wasn't the best word for it. It was a lot bigger than a worm. It was more like a snake, but she didn't care for that word either. Whatever it was, it was intriguing, to say the least. She wrapped her fingers around it, and a spark of instant pleasure coursed through her body. 'Whoa! This does feel good!'

She placed her thumb just below the lip of the crown and her fingers along beneath the head and stem, squeezed it tenderly, and began to stroke it softly, up and down, up and down, up and down. It immediately began to swell further and further and further, growing before her eyes. 'Wow,' she thought, 'this is so impressive, and it feels so darned good!'

She knew of course that penises could get really, really big, but somehow she had not expected, imagined, it could be this impressive, or feel this good. She gripped it tighter, stroked it harder. Michael was apparently not circumcised and she noticed how she could use the foreskin to really stimulate that soft, round swollen bulb. Boy, wouldn't it be so nice to have some lips wrapped around that, kissing that? She wasn't sure right now whose lips. She just knew that wet, soft lips would sure feel awfully good.

In any case, she certainly knew now why boys liked to masturbate. She heard from her friends, as far back as in high school, that boys masturbated a lot. She had done so a few times herself; well, even more than a few times. It did feel good, awfully good, and she wasn't suggesting, thinking, that it's better for a boy than for a girl. Perhaps it felt better right now because this was the first time she masturbated as a boy, and the first time is often the most intensely pleasurable. But, still, it was so, so cool to see this thing get bigger and bigger and bigger, swelling up so hard that it looked like it might just burst through its own skin! Talk about a visual demonstration of your excited state! She was really impressed.

When she felt she had gotten it about as big as it would get she let go to admire it, to study it, in the mirror. She loved it! She really did love it. Well, that was a bit much. It wasn't like she wanted to date it, to marry it, to have children with it. Actually, that was kind of what you did with it, didn't you? After you married him? Well, it was a little early in her relationship with this erect penis to be thinking of children. In fact, if there is one sure way of scaring away a guy, it would be to talk about marriage and children on the first date, and she sure didn't want him to lose his proud stiffness. Of course, it was also rather obvious that whatever might slacken him, she could bring him back into action pretty easily and quickly.

She swung her body back and forth, watching his stiff dick swing left and right, like it was a crane on a reckless tractor. She jumped up and down, watching it bob and bounce. It looked a little funny, but it was still so cool! You could probably do a lot with these things.

She stepped up closer to the mirror, to study the erect penis more closely. She was really impressed by the head, the crown. It was so large, so swollen, so purple. It was like the crown of a big, bad battering ram, split down the middle by a deep fissure, through which he would deliver his seed, his sperm, his, dare she say it, his cum.

She reached with her, his, left hand to grasp his balls. She lurched and bent over with pain. She had grabbed them too eagerly, too hard. She stood back up, and more gently felt, fondled, and cradled them. It was from these that his sperm, his seed, his cum, was generated. It was from these that he would make a baby, a baby for his wife. For such an important organ they felt so soft, so vulnerable. Leave it to a guy to be the weakest where he makes his babies. Well, that really wasn't his fault, was it.

She took hold of his cock again with her right hand, and softly stroked it while she also fondled his balls with her left. This really did feel awfully, awfully good. Her eyes half closed, losing herself in the blissful sensation of her masturbation. She imagined what it would be like to put this thing up inside a girl's vagina, her vagina. She had put things up her vagina herself, of course. Certainly her finger(s) a number of times. She even had a little woman's helper in the back of her bedside table drawer. But, she now realized how good it would feel, to the penis, what was now her penis, to have it slide up inside such a warm, wet, tight channel. Oh, to have one right now, tightly gripping this, this, this, big hard cock!

She opened her eyes, and stopped. She was breathing so heavily. Her heart was racing. She wondered if she had ever felt this sexually aroused, this excited before. Well, she knew she had, but she sure now appreciated the lust of a boy. As one of her professors had said, you never really know somebody until you walk inside their shoes. Well, she was doing a bit more than that right now.

She paused to regain her composure, and to again admire herself, or him, in the mirror. Wouldn't it be nice to have both of them, both a penis and a vagina, a cock and a cunnie? Imagine being able to do it to yourself, with yourself. It was a rather perverse thought, perhaps, and she was kind of surprised that she was thinking such a thing, but wearing a guy's naked body, sporting an awfully impressive erection, will take a girl's mind in new directions.

She suddenly wondered how truly impressive his penis really was. She rushed over to her vanity table, where she kept her sewing things, her stout pole waving before her, giggling at the sight of the stiff thing swinging around, and once there she pulled out a measuring tape. She stroked her cock a few more times, trying to be sure that she was getting it at its longest, biggest state, and then carefully measured it from the base, all the way up to the very tip. It was about 6.5 inches long. That didn't sound very big.