Grab the Essentials and Leave!

Years of being on the track team pay off as you set off around your room with the agility that even your former body would be envious of in search for anything you possibly need.

Your first target is a change of clothes, rather something that will fit you better than just a pair of now oversized boxers. You scamper towards your dresser and yank the wide top drawer open- and smile. Being the youngest child, your mother has taken a certain affinity, albeit an embarrassing one, to keeping quite a good bit of the clothing from your earliest days as keepsakes. Rifling through a few layers of socks, boxers and undershirts, you finally find your quarry. Almost at the very bottom is an assortment of undergarments from time prior to your growth spurt. You grab a small plain white t-shirt before throwing it onto the bed. Then a blush reaches your cheeks as your eyes land on a couple of pairs of underwear. Every set is straight from your childhood, complete with blue elastic and cute cartoon figures all around them. A very loud voice in your head was groaning at the prospect of putting such a silly thing on, but you bite your lip, grab one and toss it back to the bed as well.

With the basics taken care of, you bend down and open up the very bottom drawer where you keep the majority of your pants. Nearly every single one is many sizes too big and too long, and even though you’re in a bit of a rush, you curiously find yourself wanting to at least look presentable. You rise up and make your way to your closet. You rifle through hanger after hanger, some with jackets, others with dress shirts, until you reach the last couple of articles of clothing, and then your eyes land on a pair of solid black track pants with white stripes going down its sides that you wore when you were much younger. You pull them out and hold them up to your body. Hmm, they were definitely the right size in the waist, maybe even a little small, but it was better than nothing. You walk back to the bed and lay the pants down.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter to yourself as you pick up the underwear. You catch sight of your hips shimmying from side to side as you wiggle out of your boxers. And for the first time, you see the sleek expanse of your bare mound in all its nude glory. A strange sensation of warmth begins to pool somewhere in the pit of your stomach at the view. You’ve seen plenty of girls in the buff in your time, but none of them- not the cheerleaders or the girls you’ve picked up at the gym- had a positively sinful body like this. The way your toned abs and utterly flat tummy contours down the alabaster, flawless scape of flesh, down between the slight dimples of your hips and leading your eyes straight to your bald, slightly pink, and curiously moist slit is positively hypnotic. You suddenly find yourself being bombarded by the need to explore the erotic sight with something other than your eyes, but the thought only lasts one mortifying second. You shouldn’t be thinking these things, not now… maybe later. But not now.

You step into the underwear and slowly wiggled them up into their rightful place, and immediately frown at the feeling. You’re not troubled by its fit. In that area it works out great. The unsettling part is that it’s strange to not feel the fabric pressing against what was there not even a day before. Now the garment lays flat against you, snug and form fitting. Against your better judgment, you peer over your shoulder and check out your ass. Even under the fabric, you could easily make out how tight, and impeccably shaped the cheeks were. Your derriere had the form of a supermodel’s and just the right perkiness to accentuate your lithe, narrow waist to perfection. You were positive any man you walked by was going to be fixated on your newly discovered asset, but what could you do about it? There was simply no covering up an ass of this caliber.
Brushing the thoughts aside, you grab the track pants and put them on. They’re somewhat small around your waist, but you’re relieved to see the legs are the perfect length. Next comes the top…

“Well, this isn’t weird at all,” you whisper as you feel the cotton fabric stretching over your bare breasts and you pull the shirt down over your body. The shirt is small on you, form fitting to be exact. The V-neck juts down further down your chest than you expected, revealing a hint of cleavage. While the perfectly round and perky globes on your chest aren’t large, their firmness makes the shirt feel tighter than you’re used to, even to the point of breathing feeling somewhat constricted. You look down and groan when you see your two tiny, hardened nipples poking through the material. You shake your head in dismay; you’re definitely going to need to find a bra at some point.

You go back to the closet and get down on your hands and knees and crane your way to the very back. You rummage around in the shadowy corner for a moment before you feel a pair of old sandals you outgrew years ago brush over your fingertips. You grab them and quickly slip them on.

Without any hesitation you hurdle towards your bedside table and snatch up your smart phone. Quite a few pictures were taken during the Festival yesterday, some you would rather not revisit… However, you’ll take any lead you can get right now. If they don’t pan, you have an ample amount of friend’s numbers saved to call just in case.

You grab the wad of cash and the lone slip of folder paper by your bottle of cologne, stuff them into your pocket and make your way out of the room. You tiptoe by your parents’ room, and once out of earshot, you scamper down the steps and make a dash for the front door. You finally release the breath you were holding when you reach the sidewalk of your quaint, picturesque street.

You pull out your phone and stare at the options before you. Any of the strange events at the Festival would be a good place to start. Then again, this whole predicament could have begun long before yesterday.

In any event this wasn’t going to be easy, and in all likelihood it was going to be dangerous for you in many unforeseeable ways. If it came down to a physical confrontation, you don’t have the sheer power you had before. You won’t be able to strong-arm your way out of a jam. Your mind is your first line of defense now, your agility a close second. And speaking of your body…

Though the idea of sex is the furthest thing from your thoughts right now, you know better than to not pay heed to the voice that woke you earlier. Your undeniable hotness coupled with the ominous warning the voice on the phone gave you about your body craving attention is troubling. Undoubtedly you will be garnering unwanted suitors, and you intimately know what lengths some guys will go to, be it lying, cheating, or other nefarious means, to get into a hot girl’s pants. And then comes the voice on the phone’s other, more terrifying warning to your thoughts. You’re fertile- very fertile. If you let any spunk inside you, you’re staying this way. Period.

"Ewww!"

Your slender button nose scrunches up in disgust. No, you think with a shake of your head. There’s no way you’re going to let a guy touch you. The prospect of even enjoying that is preposterous anyway! Turning back to the matter at hand, you give a quick swipe over the screen of your phone and begin to plot your next step.

Every option is at your fingertips, and now you have to decide which one to follow.