Date with Don.

Chapter 7

The sergeant blinked hard, mouth opening and closing like a fish as the gravelly male tone came out of Sally’s painted lips. He stared for a long beat, clearly weirded out, before muttering, “Uh… right. I’ll call him.” He picked up the phone with hesitant fingers. “Detective Don? You better get out here. Sally’s at the desk but… something’s real off. She just said to tell you Dick is here.”

A couple of minutes later, Don burst through the back doors, face etched with worry. He froze the second he saw her — blouse gaping open, massive tits spilling against black lace, hair a tangled wreck, lipstick smeared like she’d been up to no good. His eyes widened in pure shock.

“Sally? Baby, what the hell happened to you?” Don stepped closer, voice low and concerned, but clearly with zero clue what was really going on. He looked her up and down, taking in the half-dressed mess that used to be his girlfriend. “You look like you got dragged through a rough situation. Are you hurt? Did someone do this to you?”

Dick caught himself quickly. Right. Must maintain the Sally persona for now. Observe and adapt, like any good field study. He straightened up, attempting a more demure posture while still defaulting to that wide, confident male stance in the heels. “It has been quite the perplexing morning, Don,” he said, the gravelly voice still thick and unmistakably his own. As he shifted his weight, the skimpy thong rode straight up between his plump ass cheeks again. Dick reached back without hesitation, tugging the fabric out with two fingers in a slow, deliberate motion. “This undergarment keeps wedging itself most intrusively. Fascinating how it navigates the contours back there.”

Don’s eyebrows shot up, shock written all over his face. “Sally… since when do you talk like that? And—uh, maybe you should stop adjusting yourself right here in the station.” He quickly draped his jacket over her shoulders, though it did little to hide the deep cleavage still prominently displayed. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before anyone else notices. You’re drawing quite the crowd looking like this.”

Dick offered a lopsided smirk, the expression far too roguish on Sally’s delicate features. He adjusted the jacket but let it slip open again almost immediately, glancing down at his own chest with open academic curiosity. “These… assets are remarkably heavy and prone to movement. One can hardly ignore the physics involved—the way they shift with each step. Quite the sensory overload, I must say.” He gave one breast a subtle, exploratory lift with his palm, as if weighing it for study, then reached back once more to extract the thong that had already crept upward again. “And this persistent intrusion from below… Sally must have a high tolerance for such distractions.”

Don guided her toward the exit with one arm around her waist, glancing around nervously as a couple of officers stared. “Okay, clearly something’s not right. Did you hit your head? Take something unusual? You’re not sounding like yourself at all, and that voice… it’s concerning me.” He helped her into the passenger seat of his car, trying not to stare too long at the way her breasts jiggled with every stumbling step in the heels. “We’re going to Le Jardin. That posh French place downtown. Private tables, calm atmosphere. You can sit, have some water or wine, and explain what’s going on. I’ll order your usual if you like.”

As they pulled away from the station, Dick crossed his legs awkwardly in the passenger seat, the heels making it difficult to settle. He kept fidgeting, tugging at the thong every few moments with increasing fascination. “Wine does sound appealing for this experiment in embodiment. Though I confess, the constant tactile feedback from these thighs and… posterior regions is rather distracting. One begins to appreciate the female form from an entirely new empirical perspective.” He glanced sideways at a woman crossing the street, his gaze lingering with unfiltered male interest before catching himself. “Ahem. Strictly observational, of course.”

Don gripped the steering wheel tighter, shooting him worried sideways glances. “This body? Embodiment? Sally, you’re really scaring me here. Was it connected to that case we were working on? Or something else? Talk to me—I’m your boyfriend. We’ll sort through this together, whatever it is.”

Dick leaned back, letting the jacket slip open further as he absentmindedly traced a finger along the edge of his cleavage, exploring the soft skin with professor-like detachment mixed with clear perverse enjoyment. “Boyfriend, yes. How intriguing to experience that dynamic from this side. These breasts do demand attention, don’t they? The weight, the bounce… it alters one’s entire center of gravity. I keep having to reposition them for comfort.” He tugged the thong free yet again with a thoughtful hum. “And this garment—remarkably inefficient at coverage. Tell me, Don, does Sally find this sensation normal? Because from my current vantage, it’s both irritating and oddly stimulating.”

Don’s face stayed a mix of deep confusion and protective concern, completely lost but doing his best to remain supportive. “Just… try to relax. We’re almost at the restaurant. Maybe some food will help clear your head.”

Dick nodded, still openly adjusting his new body’s features as they drove. “Excellent. A proper meal should provide useful data on how this form processes sustenance. Lead on, then.”

End Chapter