After a while the officer came back into the locker room, with some other people in tow. It was almost time for classes to start, so the Principal, one of those people, told Sarah to get to her classes, that 'all of this' would be taken care of.
Sarah, not keen to argue, agreed and left the locker room. Of course, she didn't really intend to go to class, not just yet.
Being Sarah's breasts was turning out to be a unique experience. As a bra he'd gotten used to the press of breasts against his fabric, and to the motion of those breasts pushing and pulling him around. But at the moment Sarah wasn't even wearing a bra, so the idea of her breasts pressing against him was silly, after all, he couldn't even TOUCH himself... or at least not reliably, as those two major parts of himself seemed keen on avoiding each-other for the most part.
Of course, the feeling of rubbing, even scraping against that tent of fabric that was Sarah's shirt was a fair substitute. When he'd been made of... well, fabric, that sensation may as well have been the wind, but now he had nerves, and very sensitive parts, and to him it was almost as though something were constantly in his eye, not exactly painful, but still irritating. He didn't have much to think or talk about, and the only movement he could feel was what caused him to move, and the slight wobble that those movements caused in him.
Then Jon heard a heavy door open, then Sarah moved through and turned around, and then the door closed. That wasn't a classroom door, Jon knew the sound they made, 'Sarah, where are we?'
"The janitor's closet, duh."
'Why didn't you go to class?'
"Because I didn't want to."
'What? But-'
"You know what, Jon? I have an idea..."
