Carefully, my heart racing, I turned the knob and pushed the door open. Standing in the bedroom I'd revealed was
It was another person I'd never seen before in my life. He was probably about twenty, extremely male and extremely naked. His back was turned toward me, and I found my eyes drawn down to his tight, firm looking ass. Once again I found myself beginning to feel things that I'd just as soon ignore. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to drown out the signals that Tiffany's body was sending me. Psychologically I didn't find him attractive in the least, but I seemed to be at war with Tiffany's body. I wondered briefly if that made me bisexual, having felt something when I watched her definitely female and annoyingly nameless friend walk back toward the car, before trying to shake all of those thoughts from my mind. Maybe this body did have a kind of mind of its own, completely separate from my own personality, but right now sex was the last thing I wanted to think about. I tried to slowly close the door and dismiss myself without being seen, but I was too late.
He turned around and his eyes went wide when he noticed me leering from the open crack in the doorway. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to look. I wanted to be anywhere else, preferably in my own body, looking at anything else. Unfortunately it was like a train wreck. Try as I might I just couldn't look away, so when his member started to stiffen, I was staring right at it.
"Jesus Christ Tiff!" He shouted, dropping a hand to cover his disturbingly enticing manhood. "Barge in much? Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Reaching over, he tore the blanket from his bed and held it up to cover his waist. "Well," he demanded, "Is there something I can do for you, or are you just here to stare?"
Suddenly I remembered who I was, or at least who I was supposed to be. Whoever this guy was, he lived in the same house so he was probably a member of the family. Given his age there was a good chance he was Oh God! Was he Tiffany's brother? I don't know if she has any siblings, but what if she does? Does he think his sister was just leering at him? Way to go Jon! I was on a roll. How many people could I alienate today?
"Take a fucking picture Tiff, it'll last longer." He waited a moment, but I didn't know what to say. My mind had gone blank. "Say something or kindly get the hell out of my bedroom and let me get dressed." I stood there another moment, looking rather dumb I would imagine before I slowly closed the door and slunk away. I could hear him mumbling behind the door and words like "stupid" and "bitch" crept to the forefront. Shaking my head, I went back to Tiffany's bedroom.
Athletic girl and her other friends were waiting outside, and I had to decide what I was going to do about that. As much as I loathed the situation and regardless of what I thought about Tiffany's well-earned reputation, I certainly didn't want to mess up her life. Hopefully I hadn't already done that with her potential brother. I didn't want to go to the mall with them. I wanted to get my ass to school and work on trying to fix this, but I couldn't just ditch her friends. Closing the door behind me, I took another look around her room, searching specifically for her dresser and closet.
The dresser was beneath her vanity and as I started opening the drawers I did my best not to see my Tiffany's reflection in the mirror. It was just too weird. After a moment of sifting toward her underwear drawer, I decided to just stick with the panties I was already wearing. I wasn't quite ready to deal with her downstairs yet. I could feel a slight pressure in her bladder, but I was going to do my best to ignore it for as long as possible. I spent a moment looking at her rather impressive collection of bras. I could tell I wasn't wearing one under the shirt and my brief encounter with her friend had made me realize that going out in public without one might not be such a hot idea.
After searching for a moment, I found the least sexually enticing one I could and held it up. It was black, and compared to the rest of her collection of upper support wear, rather plain. I held my breath for a moment. To put it on, I'd have to take off her shirt and a fairly large portion of my mind was extremely against this. It was the same part of me that had avoided looking down as much as possible this morning. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely a fan of the breasts. I just preferred them on somebody else. That weight on the front of my body felt so unnatural and I began to wonder how women dealt with it. I supposed it just came with being female. They got used to it as they grew into it. I hadn't had that luxury.
If I took too much longer though Tiffany's friends might start to get suspicious. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes tightly, making sure my back was turned toward the mirror, I pulled the shirt up over my head and off. I tossed it on the ground and proceeded to slip my arms into the straps of the bra until I felt them sitting snuggly on my shoulders. Reaching behind I started to ineffectually press the clasps together. I'd never done this before and it was showing. Try as I might, I just couldn't get the clasps to meet. Reluctantly I turned my head and looked at my at Tiffany's back in the mirror. After a moment I was able to clasp the bra together. I felt a little relief as the cups held her breasts in place and helped to support them.
"That wasn't so bad Jon," I whispered turning back and making the mistake of glancing downward into the enhanced cleavage the bra had created. Tiffany's cleavage. My cleavage now. Again I snapped my eyes shut. How the hell was I going to get through the day like this? I could feel the pressure in my bladder building and knew that I wasn't going to be able to hold it forever. Eventually I was going to have to relieve myself. Again I did my best to ignore it as I walked over to her closet.
Her wardrobe did little to inspire any confidence in my ability to make it through the day as Tiffany. Skimpy, low cut tops hung from the hangers and it seemed as I slid my way through them that she didn't have a single top that wasn't designed to draw attention to what she probably considered her best assets. To be fair, everything else aside, they were pretty good assets. After a few minutes of searching, I realized that I didn't think I could wear anything she had. I couldn't imagine going out in public dressed in any of the tops gracing her closet. I wasn't sure whether it was modesty or simply what remained of my masculine sensibilities, but I didn't think I could do it. Of course I couldn't go out looking like I did right now. Beyond her tops, I found a series of short sexy skirts and a few dresses, all of which looked like they were designed to make guys think about one thing.
This was hopeless. I had to put something on though. As I was reluctantly skimming her wardrobe again, looking for the least slutty outfit I could find, another thought occurred to me. Maybe I didn't have to wear these clothes at all. Maybe there was another way
