GreenTG - Are we… MARRIED now too?!
About This Title
"Fuck! Charlie! What the hell?! What the hell am I..." The blonde's voice faltered for a split second as she turned toward the brunette with the short bob, who looked calm but had been staring at her own heavier, considerably enlarged breasts for several seconds, the implants inside them unmistakable, and, strange as it sounded, far more unfamiliar and alien than Jake's own breasts, which, to her disappointment, she had even started to get used to over the past week, "y-y-you... FUCK! Charlie?! Is that you?! Is it really you?!"
Charlie cautiously straightened up, and that small movement was enough to make her breasts sway beneath the dress, prompting her to instinctively cup them from underneath. For several seconds she just stared at her own hand, at the slender fingers wearing rings and neat polish, as if that little detail seemed especially absurd right now.
"Shut up for a second, Jake," she said quietly at last, grimacing at the sound of her own voice, lower than her friend's but still completely feminine. "Just... let me figure out what else he changed."
"What else?!" Jake nearly choked with indignation and threw her arms out, making the pink robe fall open a little farther as her long blond hair slid over her breasts, not as big as Charlie's but still quite noticeable and obviously a little saggy, which was easy to tell from their shape in the cups. "We're fucking MILFs now!"
Jake almost shouted the last word, as if it explained everything all by itself. Charlie finally dragged her gaze away from the cleavage and looked at her more carefully: long blond hair, a robe, earrings, a thin chain around her neck, and the face of an adult woman, with just enough of the old Jake left in it to make the whole thing even more unsettling.
"We're not sixty, idiot," she pointed out after a brief pause.
"Oh, fucking great!" Jake threw up her hands. "Then everything's fine! I'm only forty something, my tits are sagging, I've got some ring on my finger, and I'm dressed like I sent the kids off to school five minutes ago and was about to discuss supermarket discounts with the neighbor!"
Charlie looked at the blonde's hand and only then noticed there really was more than one ring: a thin wedding band sat at the base of her ring finger, with a second one glittering beside it, set with a small stone. Charlie found almost the same set on her own fingers, only noticeably more expensive looking, and for some reason that made her frown more deeply than her new breasts or the reflection of an adult woman in the mirror.
"Same here," she said, turning her wrist and examining the rings. "And a purse. And earrings. And... hell, Jake, he didn't just make us older."
"What the fuck did he do?!" Jake came closer at once, but her unfamiliar wide hips made her bump the edge of the console with one hip. She stopped abruptly, looked down, and tugged irritably at her robe, as if the fabric were to blame for her body taking up a little more room than years of habit told her it should. "Because if you're about to say we're someone's wives too, I swear..."
Charlie said nothing, and there was far more in that 'nothing' than could have fit into any curse.
Just a couple of weeks earlier, she, or rather he back then, could never even have imagined that one day he would be standing in a strange entryway, holding up her heavy breasts with one palm and seriously trying to figure out whether the gold on his ring finger was real, and how to explain all this to his 'husband' without being taken for a lunatic. As an athlete and captain of the football team, things like that had never really worried him, and if anyone had brought up a subject like that in his presence, at best they would have left with a few light bruises for asking about it.
With personalities like theirs, no wonder Jake and Charlie had gotten themselves into this mess after publicly humiliating the old man, only to wake up as girls the next day, still at the same college, still in the same majors, even with the same names, only now they were girls.
The old man himself showed up that evening, as if he had deliberately given them enough time to check everything. He did not threaten them, demand money, or anything like that, and looked almost bored when he gave them his one condition: they had to apologize to him in public just as they had humiliated him in public, and then everything would go back to normal.
Both women told him to go to hell at the same time and even slapped him as hard as they could, then blushed at their own reflex and decided they would make the old man change them back without any 'stupid apologies', doing it 'like men' with threats, blackmail, and, if necessary, a couple of good punches.
And they had almost managed it. In a week they had found out where the old man lived, where he went, and who he talked to, followed him after college several times, and even recorded a couple of incidents on their phones that they did not really understand themselves but had somehow decided were strange enough to use as leverage. The hardest part was not following him, but doing all of it in their new bodies: their old athletic clothes no longer fit, their centers of gravity had changed, their breasts bounced and got in the way when they tried to run the way they used to, and guys kept coming up to introduce themselves and, worst of all, treated rejection like part of some game, walking alongside them, cracking jokes, and offering them rides. That was especially distracting while they were 'tailing' him.
"Looks like he figured out we were following him..." Charlie said, still looking at the rings on her hand and slowly turning one with her thumb. "And decided to show us that blackmail wasn't the smartest idea."
"Fucking old bastard! What the hell does he think he's doing?! I'll wring his neck with these hands..." Jake stopped, looking down at her slender hands with their long, neat nails, curled her fingers into fists several times, and realized with obvious irritation that even this movement felt different now. "Fine. Whatever. I'll strangle him anyway."
"I'm not apologizing to him either," Charlie said calmly and confidently, despite the panic inside her, finally letting go of the ring. "But first we need to figure out where we are and exactly what that bastard did to us."
"What do you mean, 'where?' We're at my place, or rather Mark rents the apartment for me because his wife thinks I live clear across town, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays he comes here after work and usually brings me..." Jake suddenly fell silent in the middle of her sentence. Her mouth stayed open for several more seconds, then she looked very slowly first at Charlie and then at the entryway around her. "What the... hell did I just say?"
"Who's Mark?" Charlie asked just as slowly.
"My lover, he's fifty one, he's been married to some Susan for twenty seven years, they have two kids, the older one has moved out, and the younger is studying at..." The words poured out again, easy and casual, as if Jake had told all this to her friends hundreds of times, while only the look on her face grew more and more stunned. She abruptly covered her mouth with her palm, staring at Charlie over her neatly painted nails. "Fuck, I have no idea where I know all this from."
Both women stared at each other in silence for several seconds, and gradually it dawned on them that the old man had changed far more than their age and appearance.
"Wait," Charlie slowly raised her hand. "If you know all this about Mark... try to remember how old you are."
Jake frowned.
"Forty two."
The answer came instantly.
"Your birthday?"
"April ninth, nineteen eighty four."
"Your job?"
"I..." Jake froze, and her face grew even longer. "Nowhere. Mark pays for the apartment and the car and gives me money. Before him I worked as a salon receptionist, but he said he didn't like it when I..."
She cut herself off and stood in the middle of the entryway for several seconds, as if she hoped that if no one asked anything else, this new biography would stop existing.
Charlie was about to answer, but at that moment her own memory calmly supplied the name of her husband, then the address of their home, his workplace, the make of his car, and an irritatingly detailed memory of yesterday's argument over some completely mundane nonsense. She automatically glanced down at the expensive ring, then at the heavy black purse in her hand, and swore under her breath.
The phone inside the purse vibrated briefly.
Charlie took it out and saw a message from a contact saved under a single word: 'Husband'.
"Are you close? The kids are already home."
For several seconds, they both just stared at the screen.
"No," Jake finally said.
"Yeah."
"I'm not apologizing to him."
Charlie slowly put the phone back into her purse.
"Me neither."
Outside the window, cars drove by in perfect calm, a door slammed somewhere in the courtyard, a neighbor walked up the stairs, and the two former stars of the university football team stood in the middle of a cozy entryway in the bodies of women over forty, still trying to convince themselves that everything was just as it had been before.
"Fuck! Charlie! What the hell?! What the hell am I..." The blonde's voice faltered for a split second as she turned toward the brunette with the short bob, who looked calm but had been staring at her own heavier, considerably enlarged breasts for several seconds, the implants inside them unmistakable, and, strange as it sounded, far more unfamiliar and alien than Jake's own breasts, which, to her disappointment, she had even started to get used to over the past week, "y-y-you... FUCK! Charlie?! Is that you?! Is it really you?!"
Charlie cautiously straightened up, and that small movement was enough to make her breasts sway beneath the dress, prompting her to instinctively cup them from underneath. For several seconds she just stared at her own hand, at the slender fingers wearing rings and neat polish, as if that little detail seemed especially absurd right now.
"Shut up for a second, Jake," she said quietly at last, grimacing at the sound of her own voice, lower than her friend's but still completely feminine. "Just... let me figure out what else he changed."
"What else?!" Jake nearly choked with indignation and threw her arms out, making the pink robe fall open a little farther as her long blond hair slid over her breasts, not as big as Charlie's but still quite noticeable and obviously a little saggy, which was easy to tell from their shape in the cups. "We're fucking MILFs now!"
Jake almost shouted the last word, as if it explained everything all by itself. Charlie finally dragged her gaze away from the cleavage and looked at her more carefully: long blond hair, a robe, earrings, a thin chain around her neck, and the face of an adult woman, with just enough of the old Jake left in it to make the whole thing even more unsettling.
"We're not sixty, idiot," she pointed out after a brief pause.
"Oh, fucking great!" Jake threw up her hands. "Then everything's fine! I'm only forty something, my tits are sagging, I've got some ring on my finger, and I'm dressed like I sent the kids off to school five minutes ago and was about to discuss supermarket discounts with the neighbor!"
Charlie looked at the blonde's hand and only then noticed there really was more than one ring: a thin wedding band sat at the base of her ring finger, with a second one glittering beside it, set with a small stone. Charlie found almost the same set on her own fingers, only noticeably more expensive looking, and for some reason that made her frown more deeply than her new breasts or the reflection of an adult woman in the mirror.
"Same here," she said, turning her wrist and examining the rings. "And a purse. And earrings. And... hell, Jake, he didn't just make us older."
"What the fuck did he do?!" Jake came closer at once, but her unfamiliar wide hips made her bump the edge of the console with one hip. She stopped abruptly, looked down, and tugged irritably at her robe, as if the fabric were to blame for her body taking up a little more room than years of habit told her it should. "Because if you're about to say we're someone's wives too, I swear..."
Charlie said nothing, and there was far more in that 'nothing' than could have fit into any curse.
Just a couple of weeks earlier, she, or rather he back then, could never even have imagined that one day he would be standing in a strange entryway, holding up her heavy breasts with one palm and seriously trying to figure out whether the gold on his ring finger was real, and how to explain all this to his 'husband' without being taken for a lunatic. As an athlete and captain of the football team, things like that had never really worried him, and if anyone had brought up a subject like that in his presence, at best they would have left with a few light bruises for asking about it.
With personalities like theirs, no wonder Jake and Charlie had gotten themselves into this mess after publicly humiliating the old man, only to wake up as girls the next day, still at the same college, still in the same majors, even with the same names, only now they were girls.
The old man himself showed up that evening, as if he had deliberately given them enough time to check everything. He did not threaten them, demand money, or anything like that, and looked almost bored when he gave them his one condition: they had to apologize to him in public just as they had humiliated him in public, and then everything would go back to normal.
Both women told him to go to hell at the same time and even slapped him as hard as they could, then blushed at their own reflex and decided they would make the old man change them back without any 'stupid apologies', doing it 'like men' with threats, blackmail, and, if necessary, a couple of good punches.
And they had almost managed it. In a week they had found out where the old man lived, where he went, and who he talked to, followed him after college several times, and even recorded a couple of incidents on their phones that they did not really understand themselves but had somehow decided were strange enough to use as leverage. The hardest part was not following him, but doing all of it in their new bodies: their old athletic clothes no longer fit, their centers of gravity had changed, their breasts bounced and got in the way when they tried to run the way they used to, and guys kept coming up to introduce themselves and, worst of all, treated rejection like part of some game, walking alongside them, cracking jokes, and offering them rides. That was especially distracting while they were 'tailing' him.
"Looks like he figured out we were following him..." Charlie said, still looking at the rings on her hand and slowly turning one with her thumb. "And decided to show us that blackmail wasn't the smartest idea."
"Fucking old bastard! What the hell does he think he's doing?! I'll wring his neck with these hands..." Jake stopped, looking down at her slender hands with their long, neat nails, curled her fingers into fists several times, and realized with obvious irritation that even this movement felt different now. "Fine. Whatever. I'll strangle him anyway."
"I'm not apologizing to him either," Charlie said calmly and confidently, despite the panic inside her, finally letting go of the ring. "But first we need to figure out where we are and exactly what that bastard did to us."
"What do you mean, 'where?' We're at my place, or rather Mark rents the apartment for me because his wife thinks I live clear across town, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays he comes here after work and usually brings me..." Jake suddenly fell silent in the middle of her sentence. Her mouth stayed open for several more seconds, then she looked very slowly first at Charlie and then at the entryway around her. "What the... hell did I just say?"
"Who's Mark?" Charlie asked just as slowly.
"My lover, he's fifty one, he's been married to some Susan for twenty seven years, they have two kids, the older one has moved out, and the younger is studying at..." The words poured out again, easy and casual, as if Jake had told all this to her friends hundreds of times, while only the look on her face grew more and more stunned. She abruptly covered her mouth with her palm, staring at Charlie over her neatly painted nails. "Fuck, I have no idea where I know all this from."
Both women stared at each other in silence for several seconds, and gradually it dawned on them that the old man had changed far more than their age and appearance.
"Wait," Charlie slowly raised her hand. "If you know all this about Mark... try to remember how old you are."
Jake frowned.
"Forty two."
The answer came instantly.
"Your birthday?"
"April ninth, nineteen eighty four."
"Your job?"
"I..." Jake froze, and her face grew even longer. "Nowhere. Mark pays for the apartment and the car and gives me money. Before him I worked as a salon receptionist, but he said he didn't like it when I..."
She cut herself off and stood in the middle of the entryway for several seconds, as if she hoped that if no one asked anything else, this new biography would stop existing.
Charlie was about to answer, but at that moment her own memory calmly supplied the name of her husband, then the address of their home, his workplace, the make of his car, and an irritatingly detailed memory of yesterday's argument over some completely mundane nonsense. She automatically glanced down at the expensive ring, then at the heavy black purse in her hand, and swore under her breath.
The phone inside the purse vibrated briefly.
Charlie took it out and saw a message from a contact saved under a single word: 'Husband'.
"Are you close? The kids are already home."
For several seconds, they both just stared at the screen.
"No," Jake finally said.
"Yeah."
"I'm not apologizing to him."
Charlie slowly put the phone back into her purse.
"Me neither."
Outside the window, cars drove by in perfect calm, a door slammed somewhere in the courtyard, a neighbor walked up the stairs, and the two former stars of the university football team stood in the middle of a cozy entryway in the bodies of women over forty, still trying to convince themselves that everything was just as it had been before.
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