By the time Jon woke up, he found that his biker friend had left him. The sun was still high in the sky, but it had moved a few degrees, letting him know that he hadn't slept all day, but rather had enjoyed a quick cat-nap in the sand.
Jon wondered why he'd fallen asleep in the first place. He hadn't tired himself out, not too much, at least. The big biker had indeed been suffering from some sort of medical condition. Whether blue balls was a scientific term, or if it was colloquial, Jon didn't know. What he did know was that his new friend was experiencing a major discomfort.
When the big man had unbuckled his belt and laid on his back, Jon had momentarily been unsure as to how he could help. This hesitation hadn't gone unnoticed. He'd known that bikers were know to be a rough and tumble sort, but when the man had, of course in his frustration in discomfort, snapped at Jon, he'd jumped. It was perfectly understandable. If the biker had offered to help Jon, then had made Jon wait, he would have probably done the exact same thing.
Then, in the kind of generosity Jon had grown to expect from the denizens of Girl World, Jon's big friend made a motion with his hands, giving Jon the hint he needed. The problem was in his pants!
Jon, being a polite kind of guy, and wanting to return the favour to the big man for being such a good friend, stammered a quick apology, dropped to his knees in the sand between the man's legs, and pulled the offending jeans off to diagnose the problem. Once the man was naked below the waist, all became clear.
It wasn't a mole. It was far to big for a mole. It didn't look like a tumor, either. It was, well, it was hard to describe. A large, stiff protrusion was sticking out from the man's groin. Below the protrusion was some sort of hairy sack, holding two round objects within. The protrusion was sort of banana-like, oblong, pointing upward. Jon could see veins pulsing on length of it, which reminded Jon that while the thing looked alien, it was, at least for the moment, a very real part of his new friend's body.
And a part of his friend's body that was causing him quite a lot of distress.
"Come on, baby," the big man moaned, "Don't just look at it. Big Daddy's hurtin' for you!"
Jim climbed to his feet and ran his leather boot along the inside of the big man's thigh, making the man close his eyes and shiver. He was unsure how to address the problem, so he figured he would try to distract him. It seemed to be working. He then rubbed the other thigh with the same boot, this time, after reaching the groin with the soft leather material, he placed the point of the heel against the big man's skin and slowly dragged it down the leg.
"No rough stuff today, sweet-cheeks," Jon's biker friend instructed, giving Jon a great nickname Jon decided he'd have to remember, "I want you all sweet and tender-like."
Jon took the hint. He took a step away from the big man, turned so his back was facing him, then bent at the waist and unzipped his boots.
"Yeah, baby, I like the view from here!" The biker said, leaning up to slap Jon's leather-clad behind. Jon knew that he loved Girl World, but things like this made him love it even more. He'd always been a little self-conscious with his body, and to have such affirmation from such a masculine man made him feel better about himself.
Then, barefoot in the sand, Jon stepped back toward his suffering friend. Instead of rubbing his boot against the man's skin, Jon did it with his foot. Up and down each thigh, each time getting closer and closer to the protrusion. Each cycle the man grunted, shivered, moaned. Jon wasn't sure if he was helping or hurting, but since he wasn't being told to stop, he assumed that he was helping.
With courage building inside him, Jon decided to be brave. He rubbed his foot once more up the big man's thigh, then stopped at the protrusion. Gently, he toyed with the hairy sack beneath it, rubbing it ever so lightly, teasing whatever was held within. The man breathed deeply, a smile on his face. Jon was onto something!
He ran his toenail up the sack until he was touching the protrusion with his toes. Between his big toe and his second toe, Jon felt the length of the protrusion, pausing at the tip, wondering at how hot the thing felt. With dexterity Jon never knew he had, he balanced on one foot and rubbed the man up and down with the other, mostly on the protrusion, but pausing every once and a while to rub the man's stomach, chest, and even bringing his foot up to the man's mouth to let him kiss it, lick it, get it nice and moist so that it didn't chafe the man's skin.
It didn't take long to resolve. Jon told himself that he should have been a doctor. With no instruction, no information than what he saw in front of him, Jon completely cured the man. After a few minutes of rubbing, a hot, sticky discharge shot from the protrusion, covering the man's stomach, soaking Jon's foot. He didn't mind. After all, the big man had been generous enough to take him for a ride on his motorbike, so getting a little dirty was the least Jon could do.
Once the man's discharge stopped, the protrusion quickly shrank to a fraction of its original size. Jon was pretty sure that the problem was gone, that what he was seeing was a remnant, a remind, a battle wound to remind the biker of what he'd suffered through and survived. Jon hoped he would wear it with pride.
That's when the exhaustion had hit Jon. Maybe he had been balancing too long. Maybe it was all the fresh air. Whatever the reason, Jon stepped out from between the man's legs who, in his post-suffering bliss, was snoring away, and lay down immediately to his right. Jon could barely keep his eyes open, and he knew that sleeping exposed to nature could leave your body in danger with the elements, so he curled up next to the man, intertwining one leg with his, draping one arm over the man's big chest. The last thought that hit Jon's mind before he fell asleep was of the man's aftershave, and how it reminded him of something he used to wear...
The spirit hovered over Jon's body. It had sensed an opportunity, and decided to capitalize.
In the real world, Jon was wearing his mother's sweater, his mother's jeans, but he'd left his feet bare, just like in Girl World. Reaching out with its power, caressing Jon's feet, the Spirit watched as they reformed, slowly, subtly. Size was the biggest change. From the large men's size twelve feet Jon had grown into, they shrank down to a dainty women's size six. Once they had reached their new size, colour began to appear on the toenails.
Pink. Not hot pink, but a delicate, sweet pink. The Spirit knew that when Jon woke up, he would want his clothes to make sense with his body, and to have something to garish, too outlandish at this point, would be too jarring.
Finally, the Spirit shaped the feet. He took any extra callouses off, he smoothed them out, made them cute. They were the feet that anyone with a foot fetish would have instantly become excited over.
Satisfied by its work, the Spirit relaxed its control over Jon's mind, letting him slip back into consciousness in Girl World.
Alone on the beach, Jon knew he should have been nervous, but he wasn't. He'd helped a friend out, he'd had a great nap, and now he was enjoying a barefoot walk on the beach, his boots slung over his shoulder, his cute pink toenails glistening in the sunlight. Sure, he didn't know what he was going to do next, but just like everything else in Girl World, he was sure it would work out great.
Meanwhile, Kelli...
