Girlfriend with Testing Device Ch. 05

So, long story short, Evan ended up in a short tartan skirt. It wasn't quite a school girl's skirt, but it was certainly designed to evoke the feeling of one. It was longer than the micro but short enough that I could still see his sexy red panties if he leaned over too far. This seemed to be a recurring theme in the skirts he had chosen, even the longest of them only seemed to go halfway to his knees.

These skirts would look great, he had explained, with the handful of brightly colored side-tie thongs he had decided to get as well. I approved of the combination, even if I didn't quite know how to feel about some of the slutty little slogans emblazoned on them.

Come to think of it, a lot of the poses Evan was doing seemed to be trying to draw attention to his ass. I guess that girl had considered hers her best feature? Not that Evan's ass wasn't great, it's just that his tits were completely out of this world -- they were the real stars here.

And, speaking of, they were now marvellously displayed by the shirt he now wore. It was a kind of ephemeral dark-blue halter top thing that did an amazing job of showing off both his midriff and his boobs. If you caught it at just the right angle, you could even see some under and side boob. It was actually much more tasteful than I wanted to give it credit for. When he had first shown it to me I was half expecting it to cut off just below the nipple. I guess it was a good thing he had gotten some backless bras. That or he was going braless. Either way, I wasn't complaining.

"So, what do you think, baby?" Evan said, giving me a little wink.

At that moment time seemed to slow down. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as a cold chill went down my spine. Evan was smiling wrong.

I'll admit, up until then I hadn't actually been looking to closely at Evan's face, not with all the body he had going on. That was quickly becoming a very bad habit of mine. Now that I was really actually looking at it though I was starting to notice just how different he looked.

Not different in that he was now some kind of super-femme bimbo with giant tits, different in all the little ways, the ways that mattered. His expressions were different. The way he smiled -- the way he wasn't smiling anymore. His perfect, big, dumb, beautiful, lovable grin was gone. And in its place was some kind of imposter: a weird, lippy, pouty imposter.

And it wasn't just that. There was the way he now only curled his mouth to one side when he frowned, the way his brow didn't quite crease when he furrowed it, hell, he had even winked with the wrong eye. All of it now looked so, well, alien.

And sure, intellectually I knew this was probably just the body language swap. It had to be. But on a not-quite-so-intellectual level it was really freaking me out. I know I had intended to make him more feminine, but everything just seemed so off, like there was some kind of stranger inside pulling the strings.

Oh my god. How had I not noticed all this earlier?

I could feel a part of myself, deep down, that had clearly not gotten the memo about what was going on. It was crying out that this person wasn't Evan, that this was some kind of pod person alien or something. It was a deeply unsettling feeling, and I could see the logic behind it. He moved like a whole different person, after all, he had a whole different dictionary of expressions, and he had a whole different catalogue of body language. It was weird. No matter how different I had made him with the device, I was prepared to accept that it was still him. But the moment I notice that his expressions weren't his own, that's the point where it crossed into the uncanny valley.

These simply weren't the familiar, comforting expressions of my Evan, and sexy as it was, I did not like this one bit.

I looked around hopelessly for that girl to swap them back, but of course, by now she was long gone.

Shit. Okay, well, at least I had her number, right?. I just needed to call her up and track her down and fix this when I could. I could put up with this until then, right? Weird as it was?

That sort of put a damper on the rest of the fashion show. I couldn't really even look at him and not be furious with myself. Hadn't I told myself that I wasn't going to use him like that? And for what? So he'd be sexier? And, oh god, don't get me wrong, sexier he was, yowza. He was the whole package now: the way he moved, the way he dressed, his voice...

My god, I had really done a number on him.

How much of the old him was even left? I'd seen first hand how minor changes could have big impact on personality. Who knows what babies I'd been throwing away with the bathwater, just because I couldn't help myself, because I was horny, because ever since I got this stupid device all I could seem to do with it is make selfish choices. Last night I had been drunk, today I had no excuses.

I took a deep breath. Okay, I told myself, I can deal with this.

I needed to come clean with him. Confess to everything I had done. I had to hope he could forgive me. It was the only way. But how do you even broach a subject like that? How do you tell someone you love that you've been taking advantage of them? How do you start that conversation? I didn't know if I had it in me.

My guilt cast a heavy shadow as we paid for our new clothes and left the store. What was worse was that I didn't even know if I even wanted to change everything back. As hard as it was to keep myself in control, I kind of liked the new me. Maybe it was a side effect of getting my libido kicked into high gear around the same time I got the new body, but something about being so lusty had me feeling more sure about myself than I'd ever been before. One of the things I had noticed earlier today was that I was clearly the more sexually aggressive one in the relationship now. Evan had always been a acquiescing gentleman, of course, but now I was clearly topping in more ways than one, and the feeling of self-confidence that had brought was intoxicating.

I didn't know if I could go back to the meek little me I was before. I didn't know if I wanted to. And new me wasn't going anywhere without new Evan. If I turned Evan back into a proper man, I wouldn't be attracted to him anymore, not without giving up this confidence.

My perfectly shaped nails dug into my skin as I clenched my fist. I had really swapped myself into a corner, hadn't I?

We were just passing a row of benches when Evan stopped and turned to me. I was so lost in my own thoughts I practically ran right into him. I hadn't really been paying attention to where we were going and now were off in some corner, away from the crowd. I hadn't even noticed.

"Baby," he said, "is everything alright? You look kind of upset."

Shit. I guess I had been pretty obvious.

"What?" I squeaked "No! Everything's fine. It's nothing."

"Nothing, huh?" He stuck out one hip and put his hand on it -- something I'd never seen him do before -- and raised an eyebrow. Anything that drew attention to his killer hips was sexy, but all I could think about was how he was lifting the wrong eyebrow. Suddenly all those stupid emotions flooded back into me.

"I... um..." I was at a loss for words. I had fucked up big time. He seemed upset. Did he know? He must have realized something was amiss. How could he have not? I was in trouble now.

"Hey," he continued "you don't have to hide things from me. I know that look. Something's bothering you. Whatever it is, it's okay, you can tell me. Is it about the clothes? I saw those girls giving you the stink eye earlier, but baby, I think you look great in them. I mean, you'd look great in a burlap sack, but I really do mean it, you looked amazing back there."

Oh. Underneath it all, there was my Evan.

"No," I replied, "It's not about that." I paused for a moment before adding "Thank you though."

"What is it then?" his eyes sparkled up at me.

"It's um. It's just that..."

I inhaled deeply. I should tell him. Right now. The longer I kept this from him, the worse it was going to be. What good was all this so-called self-confidence if it couldn't get me through something like this? Best just to rip the bandaid off all at once, right?

My mouth had suddenly become completely parched. I took another deep breath and tried to steady the nervous pounding in my heart.

"You, um," I began, "you may want to sit down for this."

He did, languidly smoothing out his skirt and crossing one shapely leg over the other as he did so, all in one smooth motion.

"Evan... I," I fumbled for the words. "I may have, um, made a swap or two that I'm now starting to regret."

I just hoped that he didn't hate me. I think that's the one thing I wouldn't be able to bear.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Is that all?" His eyes flitted away from mine to roam my body. "I can't even tell. What did you swap? I'm sure you can just put it right back to normal, can't you?"

"No. Um. Not like that. It was um... you," I mewled, "and it's not exactly something I can just swap back, not right away at least. And it's, uh, a little more complicated than that actually."

He looked me deep in the eyes. The worst part was that I couldn't read his expression. Was that betrayal? Or confusion? Anger? I had what felt like a lifetime of experience mapping Evan's moods and now I felt completely lost, adrift in a sea without a compass.

"Wait." His eyes furrowed. "You swapped me?" He patted his body by way of inspection, but he didn't seem to notice anything amiss. God, of course, that was the irony, wasn't it?

So much for ripping the band aid off all at once. I took another deep breath and let the truth roll out like a log crashing down a flight of stairs.

"I um. I kind of, um," I gestured fruitlessly with my hands, "I kind of swapped your, uh, body language? I guess? With someone else, and while I didn't really notice at first now I can't help but realize that all of your facial expressions and stuff are all completely different and it's really weirding me out cause deep down I feel like you're not you anymore and I'm worried I broke you or something and I don't want to lose you even though I know that that's stupid and I feel bad cause I didn't tell you and I've used you as a stupid test dummy without your permission and I told myself that I wasn't going to again and again and again and I still did and, and, I didn't know how to tell you or if I should tell you cause you don't even notice it and I don't want you to be mad at me and now I'm realizing that maybe you don't even notice and you won't get mad at me and that just makes things worse because I love you -- oh god do I ever love you -- and I keep making you less and less you and and...I just... even though it's not a huge thing it made me realize that I've been terrible to you and you don't deserve that. D-does that make any sense?"

He just looked up at me and blinked, trying to process what I had said. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Wait, hold on," he said, finally, "body language? Is that what this is all about?" he gave me a kind of earnest half-lidded smile and seemed to relax just a bit. "You had me worried. I thought you'd swapped my body around with that cute girl who was flirting with you earlier or something."

"N-no, not that, exactly."

"Though I mean, come on, could you imagine me in a girl's body?" he gave a sexy waving gesture to draw attention to his porn-star cheerleader body. I bit my tongue. Let's handle this one step at a time.

"But why on earth would you -- wait, hold on, that thing can swap body language around? I thought it could only do like, body part swaps and stuff?"

"Right?" I couldn't help but blurt out "That's what I thought at first too, but I've been trying it out and it can do some really crazy things!"

"That's amazing! But uh, why would you want to do that in the first place though? Swap my body language, I mean."

"Cause, um, well..." I looked down and blushed. "Cause you look really good. Like, really really good. And there's this girl strutting around and she doesn't even look half as good as you but she really knows how to work what she's got and I just got to thinking that it would be... neat... if you moved a little more sexy, you know?"

Evan laughed again then leaned in towards me with a predatory grin upon his face, his expansive cleavage bouncing prominently in my field of vision.

"Baby..."He half-whispered in a sultry tone, "If I acted any sexier, you'd explode."

I swallowed loudly. Shit, now I was getting hard again.

"Y-yeah," I said, doing my best to look him in his dark, smouldering eyes "Now."

He laughed again and leaned back, taking his stupid jiggling cleavage with him. I breathed a sigh of relief. This conversation was going to be hard enough without that kind of distraction.

"It's weird." He said as he looked himself over, supply stretching out his arms with all the slow purposeful grace of an erotic dancer. "I don't think I believe you. Does that make any sense?" He frowned slightly. "Like, I believe you -- I trust you and know that you wouldn't lie about it -- but, I... I guess I'm just having a hard time internalizing what you're telling me. It's like, how else would I behave?"

"Evan," I said, pointing at his smooth, exposed knees and long slender legs. "You're sitting with your legs crossed. Like a woman."

"I've always sat like this." He said, looking down at his legs, "It doesn't make me any less of a man, sweetheart." He gave a laugh and continued. "Besides, with all the skirts I wear, I kind have to, you know? I mean, if I went around spreading my legs whenever I sat down I'd wind up flashing half the mall my pussy!"

"Okay," I said, "well, what about the way you wiggle your hips when you walk? You move around like Jessica fucking Rabbit!"

"Hey, that's not my fault," he smiled, "I'm just drawn that way." After seeing that I wasn't laughing he hastily continued. "Besides, how else am I supposed to walk in these heels?"

I stared at him dumbfounded. This was not how I was expecting this conversation to go.

"Alright then," I said slowly "What about the way you keep sticking out and over-accentuating your big sexy girl-butt? And your enormous jiggling girl-tits?"

"I..." he paused to consider this one. "I like to show off?" He raised his hands to his chest and gave his boobs an exploratory squeeze. "I mean, ever since I was old enough to put on makeup guys were always giving me lots of attention, right? And I mean, I'm not into dudes or anything, but well, it's kind of nice, you know? To get that kind of attention, and to feel wanted, that is. So I guess I've always kind of gone the extra mile to show off? Well, I've never dressed for it, but guys love it when you stick your butt out at them, or when you shake your chest in their direction. That's just who I am. That's who I've always been. And now that I have this great body, I guess I want to really show that off to the world. No more hiding behind boring clothes, you know?"

We shared a moment of silence.

Blushing self-consciously, he looked up at me. "M-my boobs aren't really girly... are they?"

"N-no," I lied. "I was just... they're very handsome." That seemed to set his mind at ease.

"What was I like, before, then?"

Oh god. That was a tough question. How do you even describe something like that.

"You were like..." I waved my hands around by way of explanation. "More masculine? I guess? You were sweet and tender -- not that you aren't now I guess, but like, you always made these really sweet expressions which I always found cute and now you're like, very smouldery and sexy and hot and that's not a bad thing, it's just different. And, like, you moved with a kind of cocky swagger to your step and were clumsier, not as smooth as you seem to move now. You were... I don't know. You moved like a regular dude. Like a man."

"What? Baby, have you seen me?" He laughed again, then flexed. Only, instead of his usual 45 degrees he was holding his arms up at 90, with his wrists hanging loosely inwards instead of tightly balled up into fists. On him, right now, it was a very dainty gesture. "I'm probably one of the most masculine guys on campus. And baby, the fact that I like to show off my bubble butt or my beachballs for all the boys doesn't change that at all."

I sighed in defeat and plopped down next to him on the bench. I just couldn't get through to him. I didn't know if this was some kind of blessing or a curse. Hell, in so far as I knew the device made it so that he literally couldn't internalize what I was trying to tell him. That was a scary thought.

"Is that everything about me that you swapped?"

I looked down guiltily and started twiddling my hands. As hard as it was, he deserved to know.

"N-no," I said "there's a, um, a couple more things you should probably know about..."

He looked back up at me in surprise, then back down at his body.

"Like what?"

"Um, so, I guess, going in order? I may have have um..." the last bit came out as an embarrassed whisper. "Stolen your penis."

A look of shock worked its way across his face, then broke as he let out a great big laugh.

"Okay," he exclaimed, "I call bullshit! Now I know that you're messing with me. As if I'd have ever had that beast stuffed down my pants. I mean," he laughed again "I have a hard enough time finding skirts that fit as is."

"N-no, it's true! This dick is all yours baby!"

"Okay, now that I agree with." He said as his lips came to a rest in a flirtatious smile. "And when we get home," he gave my hard dick a gentle squeeze through my jeans. "You had better believe that I am going to have my fun with it. You've been driving me crazy with the way you've been flaunting that thing around all day. Don't think I haven't been noticing how hard you've been getting for me."

I was at a loss for words as the dick in question throbbed against his ministrations.

He laughed and leaned back, dropping out of sexy-mode. I guess as fun as a handjob in the middle of the mall would be right now, it was neither the time nor place. I tried to suppress the twang of disappointment.

Instead, he leaned in for a hug, which I reciprocated. I could feel his hands hung low around my waist, instead of upwards along my back like he normally did. With the way our huge tits squished together it was probably more comfortable, but it still reminded me of why I was upset in the first place.

As we pulled apart, I leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss (which I struggled not to take any farther). As bizarre as everything was right now -- and I had no one to blame but myself - he was still Evan and the important part of me knew that. I could put up with him being a little weird until I could get it fixed, and I would get it fixed.

"Okay," I said, nodding to myself as I took out the device, "No more swaps. I'm going to use this thing responsibly from now on, or not at all. I'm making a promise to myself."

"Well, you don't have to go that far," Evan joked. "Come on, I've noticed you playing with that thing all day. I know you've done more than just swap my body language around."

I could feel my face growing once again red.

"But." He said, drawing the word out. "Look, the way I see it, there's no harm in a little fun as long as no one gets hurt, right?"

I laughed nervously. Evan was a great guy, and moral to a fault, but sometimes he was a really bad influence. He liked seeing me happy, so he was always encouraging me to indulge myself, and, well, that was not what I needed right now. It was like the time with the cake all over again.

Here I was, trying to make a significant ethical decision to put away this power that I was abusing, and he was encouraging me to do just the opposite. And that was a big problem! If he had been mad, if he had been disappointed, if he had... reacted... If he seemed like he cared in any meaningful way, then perhaps I'd have been able to reel it in. Perhaps then I'd have been able to put a stop to my little reign of terror and maybe I could have avoided all the grief that was to come over the next week.