She hears the god out

"Plus why do you keep going on about this 'guys only go for the pretty girls' thing. As I recall you had a list about my appearance, too."

"I don't follow," I crooked an eyebrow at Nick, not sure where this sudden non sequitur was headed.

He held up the weird god head again and shaking it, said, "it's what you were thinking about," as if that somehow answered my question.

We were distracted by a rhythmic buzzing sound. The blonde woman and her date headed inside, her black buzzer lighting up in a ring of scarlet bulbs. I got the sense the finance bros were here post-meal. They seemed to be drinking heavily and didn't have a buzzer between them, which meant they were probably here for the long haul. Though realistically if I needed help kicking my date to the curb, I probably had a built-in ally in Madeline. The redheaded spitfire had barely given Nick the dignity of a check-in, and she was paid to do that.

Not that I couldn't handle my own battles, I was just considering my options. Hailey would say I'm too kind to people, but I am studying to be a doctor. This Nick-guy, though not relationship material, was in his own way someone in need of help. If things got too hectic I could always bail, but for now, worst case scenario was probably him crying. So I folded my arms, ostensibly humoring him, as I decided how best to proceed.

"You still don't believe me," Nick narrowed his eyes and shifted his jaw back and forth. "Tell you what, why don't we go down that list of yours about 'things girls see when they first meet a guy' and I'll change 'em about myself. Right here, right now."

I held my hand to my forehead and looked at him through my fingers, "Nick, all I said was you had a nice tie."

"But there were other things you noticed, right?" He countered oratorically.

"I guess," I said shaking my head, "but it's not healthy to go through them. You're clearly already in a bad place."

"Oh, I'm in a great place," he said shooting his index finger up like a rocket. "Now tell me what's wrong with my appearance? I was mastering teleportation all afternoon, but explain to me what's bad about my clothes..."

I sighed and leveled Nick with a glare. To be honest, this might be a decent way to dissuade him of his "godhood." Once he failed to use his powers, I could try and talk to him about why he felt the need to act this way. My guess it was related to that long term relationship he mentioned in his bio. It was probably a messy break up that he was using this hobby to cope with.

"Come on, what was the first thing you noticed about me?" Nick pressed, finger now pointed at me.

"The first thing? Um, your shirt is wrinkly, I guess," I shrugged. Not exactly the god-trap I had imagined, but he had caught me off guard.

"Alright, I wish my shirt was freshly starched and perfectly ironed," he snapped his fingers on both hands, the god head still clutched in his left.

I mean, it was the first thing I had noticed about him. His Oxford shirt looked movie ready. Immaculately wrinkle free as though he had ironed it moments before or possibly at the restaurant. Most guys my age don't even know how to work an iron let alone own one, so it had been refreshing to see someone so put together, despite his many other foibles.

"Oh yeah, I complimented you on that when I first came in," I nodded, "I said you had a nice tie and your button down shirt looked extra sharp. I really wanted to ask who does your dry cleaning."

"Interesting," the boy grinned wickedly, comparing his buttoned sleeves, "so then why bring it up now?"

"Well..." I furrowed my brow. Why had I brought it up? "You were looking for things to improve, and...um...you had this crease..." I snapped my fingers trying to find it again. Nick helpfully stood up, moving his torso back and forth to let me look, but his shirt was entirely pristine. A tad annoyed at how gleeful Nick had started to look, I rolled my eyes and said "Maybe it was on the back, I don't know, just something to pay attention to in the future." I waved my hands trying to move on to something else.

"Okay," Nick smiled ruefully, "sure thing." He put his hands on his hips and cracked his back before sitting back down. "Fascinating that you didn't notice the changes."

"What changes?" I frowned.

"Oh nothing, I'm just experimenting," he ran his fingers across the god head, feeling the ways they sealed each little pit. "You know what? If you're giving me advice on how to improve my appearance, seems only fair I should offer you some, too. I shouldn't be the only one playing dress-up."

"I'm not interested in your advice, Nick," I said with a sneer.

"No, no, we can go back and forth, and I promise to keep my criticisms on par for what you have for me." He pulled himself to the edge of the couch, looking me over hungrily. "Cause you know, there are some things about your look I'm not strictly a fan of. For instance, if you think I should have less wrinkles, I think you should have less underwear."

I opened my mouth in disgust. That wasn't on par at all. That was just vulgar. But before I could respond, Nick said, "I wish Caroline didn't have any bottoms on underneath that dress."

Suddenly I felt extremely self-conscious about my chilly legs and waist. I surreptitiously moved to adjust my dress but made the inopportune discovery, that I had neglected to wear shorts. Worse yet, I could feel my bare bottom underneath the thin material of my skirt, meaning that I had somehow forgotten to wear panties as well!! I froze, my face losing all color as I realized my error. Had I really been commando this entire time? Oh god, I must've given the valet driver quite the eyeful when I exited the car. Did anyone else notice when I sat down? When I walked in? Oh no, I bet one of those stock broker guys saw me! I crossed my ankles and pressed my knees together, making sure to keep my heels firmly on the ground. The effect made me sit up straight, much to Nick's budding amusement.

"Everything...alright, Caroline?" he asked in a low voice, looking down as I pulled my fringe out in front of me. I moved to quickly make sure I was sitting on the back of my dress. That way nothing would show as long as I stood up slowly.

"Um, yeah, um sorry Nick, I think I need to go," I said tremulously, wondering if I had pulled my backless dress down too far. Oh god, what if the men behind me could see my butt crack?

"Because you're not wearing underwear?" The doll collector said mirthfully.

Fuck, he knows. My cheeks burned red with embarrassment. No wonder he thinks he's a god. Someone out of his league showing up to a date without underwear. He could say whatever he wanted, Nick probably thought I was coming on to him.

"So you noticed that one, but not the other one," Nick scratched his chin, as I held my head in my hands.

"The other what?" I asked, growing more agitated.

"Change. Hmm, maybe it's about intent?" He muttered to himself. "I had an idea what the first one would look like. I did not know what to expect with the missing underwear, hahaha. Thanks Caroline, this is really helpful. You're the first person I've used the god head on while they were present. I'm learning a lot."

"You--did--not--make--my--underwear--disappear," I informed him tersely.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Nick waved his hand dismissively, he didn't seem to care. "On to your second change."

"Nick, I made a mistake, I need to leave," I grit my teeth.

"Nonsense, you're fine, just finish the list."

"No, no, I'm not who you think I am, I don't know why I did this," I begged, trying to figure out if I could move from the patio to my car unseen. Oh shit, the valet!

"Alright, alright," the boy finally noticed my distress but was still in a bargaining mood, "tell you what, just tell me the next few, and I'll help you to your car."

"No, please Nick." I implored.

"Come on, it'll be quick," he didn't budge.

"Fine," I sighed still tense as a noose, "your pants are too short, your socks are the wrong color, your hair is bad, your armpits are sweaty--"

"Whoa whoa whoa, one at a time," Nick held up his hands reproachfully. "What'd you say first, my pants? Really? Okay, I wish my pants were perfectly fitted and, you know what, expertly tailored."

I flared my nostrils waiting for Nick to finish. I just wanted to leave. Did we seriously have to discuss each and every little comment I made. Sure, his pants looked nice. Not only did they fit above his stupid socks, whoever did the measuring went above and beyond to show off his musculature. The guy probably did a lot of hiking. I'm ashamed to admit it, but when I thought he was rich, I took some time admire his buns as he walked away, and his pants did a really nice job showing off his particular assets. Perhaps too good of a job, which is why I was bringing it up now.

"See but that's the problem, your pants are..." I lowered my voice to speak in a hushed tone "...too tight. I can see you're 'excited,' if you know what I mean."

Nick looked down and shifted in his seat with a smile. The indent of his erection was plainly visible, forming a sizable arc across the crotch of his black pants. I suddenly realized what this must mean for his measurements and had to resist the urge to gape at what was clearly a huge penis, certainly the largest I had ever seen.

"Glad you like it," Nick answered cheekily. I realized I had been staring and turned away embarrassed, but the man had to have at least eight inches of pipe. I did my best to recover my dignity.

"But Nick, no girl wants to see that."

"See what?" He flexed his legs, man spreading on the couch. I whipped my head to the side, and Nick let out an exultant chuckle. "Sorry, just wouldn't want to deprive you of my god-given talents."

"Your--pants--should--be--less tight," I put my hand out in front me like a traffic controller trying to stop a car, but still kept my eyes away from his groin.

"Hahaha, I'll take it under advisement," Nick said putting his legs back together. "As for you though, I wish your dress showed more leg, not less."

I grimaced in the chilly night air. A short skirt split dress, what was I thinking? While I had pulled the edge of my skirt down to cover my knees, it did nothing to hide my bare thighs. Parallel slits ran up the length of the skirt, exposing not only skin but the robust curve of my hips before closing at the waist. Just two wine red lengths of fabric, one in front, one in back, were all that protected my modesty from the outside world, and when I walked the shifting cloth left little to the imagination. Shivering at the memory of my entrance to the restaurant, I wondered how many patrons had snuck a peek at my rolling cheeks, the round edges bobbing in time to my clicking heels. What confidence I had then was by now completely shattered, knowing I had no doubt flashed my pussy to anyone brazen enough to watch me closely or even catch me in profile. God, why had Hailey convinced me to wear this thing? Obviously the forgotten bottoms were my fault, but it was made so much worse by the daring ensemble she had insisted I wear. The gravitas and sophistication I had hoped to present I now knew with despair made me look like a Las Vegas party favor, and Nick was not being any help.

"Yes, I know it was stupid of me to wear this dress," I hung my head in shame, "doubly so, when you consider I didn't realize I was naked despite showing off this much ass. But it doesn't matter, do you have a jacket or something I can use to cover up?"

Nick smiled to himself. "I don't sorry, but I wouldn't worry about it, I think you look great," he tried his best to reassure me, but I had definitely heard the stock brokers snickering about my tan lines. "What was the next one, socks?" Nick asked oblivious as ever. I half nodded, picturing what it'd look like if I just jumped the fence right now. My luck, I'd probably moon a passing motorists and get stuck with my skirt above my head. Dammit, Nick why are we doing this?

"But you can't even see them anymore," he said, his voice taking a note of teasing.

"What? Your socks? I saw them briefly," I said, not remembering when considering how distracted I was by his pants, but the point still stood. "You don't wear white socks with black pants," I informed him flatly.

"Point taken," he shrugged with a smile, "I guess I wish my socks were black, but as long as we're on the topic of things the other can't see, I wish you wore a harness instead of a bra."

I furrowed my brow and looked at him confused. It wasn't really something he couldn't see. What girl wears a backless dress and doesn't expect her harness to get noticed? But maybe he was referring to the motivations behind it. Hailey had begged, and pushed, and prodded, to get me to wear something sensible like a strapless bra, but if I was going to wear her ridiculous split cocktail dress, she'd have to meet me in the middle. I wouldn't go anywhere without my harness.

I don't know why I could never embrace bras. Growing up, they were just such a pain, and I resented my growing tits for the confinement they had **** me into. My Mom said I'd learn to live with it, but our spats just became more regular with her forcing me to "bra up" whenever I went to school. The struggle persisted throughout my teenage years and would've likely continued if not for my friend Joey. He was one of the only gay kids at my school and the summer I turned 18 he invited me over to watch a movie but we ended up looking at his men's porno mags instead. The image of this one stubbled hottie in nothing but a black speedo and leather straps stirred something in me, the material straining across his back and torso all held together by interlocking rings. Flustered by the bold sensuality, I asked Joey if they had this sort of thing for women and we googled around a bit, discovering a hitherto unknown world of harnesses and cage bras. We got his older brother to get me one, I paid him with some birthday cash, but the week after when I wore it, hidden underneath my clothes, I felt so alive. Sure, my nipples were completely exposed and I had to be careful not to wear anything too bright, but I felt strangely liberated held up by all those belts and straps. Liberated and maybe a bit submissive.

I came clean to my parents. They were mostly cool with it or maybe just glad I was wearing some form of shapewear, finally. My Mom called me "kinky" and my Dad called me "Mad Max," but they bought me two extra harnesses online and I'd been collecting ever since. My choice this evening was a bronze leather one to match my earrings. It hung around my neck and was held in back by a ring--which was all anyone could see. I of course knew how it framed my full breasts with a pair of ornate serpents, intertwined around my bosom asymmetrically. It had been an expensive purchase, the metal snake carvings alone cost a pretty penny for something that amounted to a very naughty secret. But it was my secret, dammit, and it made me feel VERY sexy.

"There's nothing wrong with my harness," I retorted, "plus believe me, you wish you were getting a full look at it." I covered my chest protectively and stuck out my tongue.

"See but that's what--uh--I was trying to tell you," Nick countered, his stutter returning. "Just like you said I--uh--shouldn't wear white socks with black pants, you --um--shouldn't wear bronze harnesses under red dresses."

"What? That's ridiculous!" I responded apoplectically, "plus when did I say that? Your socks are black!"

"Oh yeah right," Nick chortled to himself, " I forgot, well regardless, I wish you wore this harness on the outside of your dress."

I seethed a bit. My dress was pinching me pretty tightly at this point. I'd done my best pull it down when I realized the state of my drawers, but Hailey was right, the harness on top of it was too much. Don't get me wrong, the bronze really popped on the rosy purple of the dress --it's why I'd chosen to wear it in the first place--but it was riding up something fierce. Adding insult to injury, I worked to try and adjust it, pulling on both ends of the train and lifting my butt up to adjust, but I had cinched myself too tightly. I barely got an extra inch.

"Girl, he's gonna think you're thirsty!" I remembered Hailey crowing as I buckled myself in. She didn't understand though, the harness was my life. Since discovering them through Joey, I had become more and more obsessed. Watching girls get dressed in them in bdsm porn, needing to feel the leather sometimes to fall asleep at night. When I had trouble studying for biochem, I used to imagine my professor tying me down in a set of belts, and for some reason, that would keep me focused. If I was going to date someone, they needed to know this was a part of my life, and if that meant showing up to a first date with fetish wear on the outside of my clothes, the guy better be ready.

Trouble was, Nick was nowhere near that guy. "Wowzers," the dork quipped, "those are even better than I imagined." I followed his gaze down to my chest, my wine red teardrops cradled by the bronze snake harness. Was he seriously noticing them now? For the first time?

"But I skipped a turn, I'm sorry," Nick mumbled nonsensically, "how 'bout this, you wanted a jacket? I wish I had a matching blazer. You earned it."

He pulled his arms out of his black jacket warily and offered it to me. I had half a mind to tie it around my waist as a diaper and commence my fence hopping plan, but it was a nice jacket and the gesture was at least appreciated. I leaned forward, the head of my left snake poking into my boob, and grabbed the blazer, draping it across my legs. Despite being the kind of girl who wears a harness outside her clothes, exposing myself publicly was a bridge too far. I could swear Nick whispered something like, "give it time," but he was quickly back to business.

"Next one, what else did I do wrong?" He slapped his knee for emphasis.

"Nick, you did a lot right," I commended quietly, "can you just get my car?"

"One more," he insisted.

"Promise?"

"Sure thing," he nodded and motioned for me to continue.

"Fine, um, your hair's not combed," I said defeatedly.

"Then I wish my hair was longer, styled and I had gotten an expensive hair cut."

Nick grinned at me and shook his coifed brunette bed head in my direction. Sure he looked a bit like a pop star, but I was just getting the sense he was bad with money. First the reservation at a restaurant he couldn't afford and now he wanted me to comment on his clearly overpriced hair cut. I don't know what to tell you Nick, it's a bird's nest. A bird's nest with a soul patch, but a bird's nest, nonetheless.

"Okay, okay, noted, you don't like it," Nick raised his hands defensively, clearly sensing the disdain I had for his hair without me saying a word. "I wish my hair looked a bit more conservative?"

Maybe that's what had drawn me to him. In photos Nick looked a bit like a politician. A politician with a soul patch, but a politician nonetheless.

"Good enough," Nick flexed his arm but was interrupted by a vibrating sound. The buzzer had lit up, letting us know our table was ready, but as Nick got up to leave I remained entirely stationary.

"Are you kidding?" I called out indignantly. "I'm not going in there like this. I need to go to my car."

Nick pressed a finger to his lips, I realized the finance bros had heard my outburst and clammed up immediately. They looked on from their corner of the patio while I tried to hide my shame. Nick for his part looked at me like an artist inspecting his work, "I wish you had a single braid that reached down to your breasts; now come on let's go, you can just use my jacket."

I flipped my braid from one side of my harness to the other, annoyed at his utter callousness. "No, you promised. You said one more and then I'd get to leave. The hostess already looked at me like I was some sort of hussy. I'm not going in there dressed like this."

"The hostess didn't have a problem with how I dressed?" Nick looked at me quizzically.

"Nick, we've been over this, you look great," I rubbed my braid in dismay, "I'm the one everyone thinks looks cheap." Nick stifled a laugh, but I made him come back so we could conspire. "Now can you please go get my car, I need to get some underwear."

The boy nodded his head and moved to leave, but stopped a second and came back. "Hey Caroline, what if you sent me your underwear?"

"What are you talking about? How would--what does that even mean?" I whispered to him, confused.

"What if--err--I wish you remembered sending me your underwear tonight!"