He gives me a phone with a video on it

When Mr. Abraham reaches his hand out to me, clutched with his fingers is a phone. The smartphone is unlocked and on the screen is the unmistakable rounded, rectangular button with a triangle, its point facing the right side (left side from my point of view). He gestures me to take it, and I hold it in my hand, turning it right-side up.

I press on the play button, which starts a video of Mr. Abraham’s face, shooting this video initially in the style of a vlog. He is at his desk in what could be the master bedroom, evidence of a fast-food meal strewn across every surface of his desk. He speaks into the camera, “I think I left the door open when I got my food.” He shuts up, hearing noises coming from downstairs. “I hope this isn’t a thief trying to steal my stuff.”

He switches to the main camera, and he films his way to the door of the master bedroom, to the walkway outside. Since his house has the same floor plan as mine, I know that there is a banister, overlooking the living room below, where we are now. Mr. Abraham hunkers down low, hiding from his intruder. He points the camera down to the living room, capturing me as my male identity, Charles, entering with a rolling suitcase. I close the door behind me and lock it. By now, I haven’t caught Mr. Abraham filming me from upstairs. I must have been super tired that I failed to look up to the second floor. I’m most likely not expecting anyone else to be home.

Letting the video play on, I see myself slide my suitcase to one side and dig into my backpack for a bottle of pink pills. I take one and down it with my water jug. I take a seat, knowing already that the transformation would take a couple minutes at least. And Mr. Abraham, probably shocked to see his former student turning into an unfamiliar, yet beautiful young woman, has left him speechless. But him being quiet while still filming meant that even during my swap from male to female, I barely registered any voyeurs in the vicinity, much less the lens of a phone camera filming my transformation from start to finish.

I watch the video play through the scene from a different perspective. I gradually shrink in height, the shape of my body shifting from tall and lanky to short and curvy. My brunette hair erupts out of my head like a shaken can of soda. Once my shift has been done, I see myself feeling tired all of a sudden. When I stand up, my pants fall to the floor, leaving behind the small fabric of my thong, already there underneath my manly pants. My shirt is oversized from my smaller torso, but it’s my nonchalance that is uncanny. I bet Mr. Abraham was equally as shocked at how cool and calm I am once in the body of Charlene, as when he saw him enter his house unannounced.

Charlene walks over to the large couch, looking tired. It’s hard not to notice the sway of my hips, having been Charlene for about a dozen times before this point. She lays down quite comfortably, showing no embarrassment dressed as she is, her exposed ass cheeks sticking up in the air. The video zooms in on ass, but then it stops. I look up at Mr. Abraham, who has a smug look on his face. He comes back over and swipes to the next video in his gallery and presses the play button.

Mr. Abraham, holding the phone, is now on the bottom floor of his house. I notice that my position has shifted, but it’s still the same sort of position with myself laying on my stomach. He turns the camera around and whispers into the lens, “I don’t know how to say this, but I just saw one of my former students come in, thinking like this was his house and in no time at all, pops a pink pill and becomes this young woman.” He bites his lip before turning the camera back around to film me, albeit from the bottom of the stairs. “Fuck, she is pretty and has a nice ass. And the way she sleeps… it’s almost like a comfort to me.”

He walks over to the couch, pointing the camera close to my face and along my horizontal form. As I continue to sleep there, he films my body from head to toe, making sure to focus on the exposure of my abdomen, as the shirt had ridden up during my slumber. He slowly pans the camera past my pelvis and down my legs, before returning up to my round ass. Then I see his hand enter from off-screen, lightly caressing the skin of my butt. With time, he takes a risk and places his whole palm on my flesh, letting it sit there to balance the heat difference between his hand and my body. I visibly stir, rotating my head around to the other side, facing the back of the chair.

Mr. Abraham films his hand sliding across to my thong. For a moment, he captures his fingers observing the way the waistband hugs my hips, allowing for my butt and thighs to flare out so naturally. Then he traces the fabric that ventured down into the valley between my ass cheeks. When his hand enters said valley, I stir again, which has my leg bending up towards my upper body, inadvertently spreading my legs a bit for him. My natural mound, encapsulated by the fabric of the thong, is in full view. Initially, he only lightly taps and traces the lines of my folds with his finger. But when he finally parts the fabric aside and begins directly caressing my pussy lips directly with the skin of his fingers, do I stir. And I hear audibly on the video that I let out a moan.

I stop the video there and hand the phone back to Mr. Abraham. My cheeks feel hot and I’m probably blushing right at this moment. “Now, I’m considering just deleting these for your sake…” he starts to say.