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Unread 12-09-2006   #1
Fred Londi
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Post Frat Girl (Complete)

My latest story for your consideration.

Frat Girl
By Fred Londi

Maybe it was finishing the last slice of pizza two hours ago. Maybe it was siphoning too much beer during the kegstand that followed it. Maybe it was the sprint he had just completed in his latest adventure. Whatever the reason, as Kurt Gampner stepped over the defeated bottles of cheap liquor and balled-up bags of pork rinds inside the empty Omega Chi Alpha house, he knew he was not feeling well. His brain throbbed with arduous determination against the inside of his blunt skull, boiling his stomach’s myriad contents into a caustic brew of acid-drowned excess, and a strange scent of strawberries had been following him every step of the way. Despite his condition, made worse by his discovery that his brown letterman jacket offered no cushion for his two hundred pounds falling shoulder-first against the house’s solid oak doors, Kurt attempted to strike a heroic pose when he entered a few minutes earlier, if only to show off the pair of pink panties he now sported over his buzzed blond hair, but he found himself ironically pleased that his frat brothers were not back from the movies yet, were not there to see him so weak. As he abandoned his quest to find the Alka-Seltzer in the kitchen down the hall and slid along the wall back to the empty wood-trimmed living room, Kurt could not help but wonder why this affliction had struck he, the most feared linebacker at Travis Forland University, so suddenly. Nothing had ever got him down like this before, nothing he could not cover up with a flex and a smile, anyway, and the stakes were high if he did not sober up soon. After all, it was Kurt himself, the elder statesman, who tongue-lashed his brethren for not joining in his alcohol-induced panty raid on the Kappa Sigmas to “put those bitches in their place.” Yet, even so, Kurt could not keep his limbs from falling limp, causing him to collapse onto a threadbare couch just feet away from the entrance. Staring down at the gold Greek lettering on the white t-shirt beneath his parted jacket, Kurt ruffled his nose as the strawberry scent grew even stronger.

Though dizzy with illness, Kurt was still aware enough to feel the minute flexes of his tiny blond hairs when the panties came off his head. Squinting his eyes, he managed to roll over so he could look down at the open space beyond the arm of the couch, letting his right arm down so it could drag limply along the garbage that riddled the floor, but nothing pink nor soft was to be felt. Groaning in pain and frustration as he then looked from side to side, he felt something soft tickle against his neck just before, on either side of his face, fell two long strands of hair—strawberry-blonde hair. As if the antibiotic he had been seeking were shock, the pain stopped and Kurt froze. A moment later, he began scooting back so he was sitting on his knees, looking over the strange locks as he did, feeling their strange softness with wide-open eyes. Strangely, the feel of the hair made his cock stir, allowing an erection to throb against the bounds of his briefs. He was just about to give the hair a tug when the pain came back once again, this time much more violent than before. Kurt’s stomach tied itself in knots to the point that he actually hoped he would vomit, if only to distract him from the pain of his entire torso being crushed by some invisible hand until the fat around his stomach bubble and slip out of place, headed north via the path of least resistance toward his head so that it piled up at his chest. At the same time, a much more excruciating shock came shooting from his crotch like a pulled groin, his briefs suddenly feeling half their original size under his loose-fitting jeans. His hips had begun to pull themselves apart, his nonexistent ass bulging out into a tight apple shape, and though his jeans were able to accommodate the expansion by becoming skin-tight from his hips to his knees, his briefs refused to give up what had suddenly become a losing battle. With his stimulated cock already poking the white fabric, his underwear had become a tight white prison from the multilateral stretches, the front of his briefs beginning to crush his manhood into oblivion. To his horror, as Kurt tried in vain to slip out of his tight jeans, he felt the briefs begin to force his cock back into his body, the hapless frat boy writing in pain as it collapsed into his body under what was now little more than white cellophane. The overpowering strawberry scent offered no respite.

Grimacing and leaning forward so that his hair continued to flick at his neck and cheeks, Kurt’s shoulders cracked and buckled themselves closer together, allowing him to slip out of his jacket and, through pools of tears, watch two bullet-shaped breasts being forced out of chest behind the “omega” and “alpha” symbols on his shirt, spreading them farther apart from the “chi” so that the foil lettering started to crack. With their advance tapered with the broadening of his nipples, it both looked and felt to Kurt like two zeppelins had tried to escape his chest, but had both given up a third of the way. Kurt’s shirt itself had been pulled upward by the fleshy onslaught, creating a draft around his naked mid-section exposing his transformed waistline. As the pain in his crotch reached its climax, he felt his briefs yank themselves up between his buttocks like a grade-school wedgie, making Kurt nearly roll off the couch as he fell to his side and writhed himself into a ball. When one last yank of the shrunken underwear rolled him out on his back once more, bucking his hips high in the air, the pain left him once again, leaving him with a sensation closest to sitting in an uncomfortable chair. Only then did the smell of strawberries subside, allowing Kurt to whiff the strange scent his sweat made on his womanly flesh.

Sniffling, Kurt took a moment and lifted his head up from the armrest, staring down at the two white fabric-covered mounds that obscured his view. Gingerly, he reached out to touch them with his now slender and hairless hands, trying to trick himself into believing both chest and hands belonged to a woman who was laying on top of him, yet when contact was made, he choked back a cry and diverted the energy to bending his knees up to his buttocks. However, while fighting against the tightness of his jeans to move, Kurt hissed with discomfort when his keys in his right pants pocket, its keychain replica of a naked girl mudflap grinding itself into his hip against his duct tape-covered wallet. Quickly, he managed to slip his right hand into his pocket and yank the obstructions out, but no sooner did he throw them on the floor did Kurt catch a glimpse of himself in the beer logo mirror across the room. He saw a woman he never met before, a sad-looking one whose quivering jaw became more pronounced with every step Kurt made to the fingerprint-riddled advertisement. She was not really his type, the kind of girl he would heckle at a poetry reading and, for all he knew, had. Standing there, watching the girl’s expression change with his own, Kurt put his hand on his hip and felt something strange, something soft right underneath the top of his jeans. He looped his index finger around the thinnest point near his right side and yanked it up slightly, feeling something strange between his legs as he looked down toward the scene. With one more frustrated flip of his hair, he saw the top of a pair of pink panties between his fingers.

Then, the door slammed open.

“The fuck?” a familiar voice said. Kurt turned around and, with mouth agape, came face-to-face with Rick, Phil, and Jack, three of his younger frat brothers. He saw Jack mouth something inaudible to try and break up his confused stare while Phil, always the quiet one, continued to drink his large soda. Rick, a head shorter than the two freshman running backs flanking him, slammed the door and followed up on his outburst. “Who the hell are you?”

“G-guys!” Kurt squeaked in a voice far higher than his own. Seeing Phil and Jack begin to walk behind him, he tried his best to imitate his old voice. As the two of them grabbed his arms to hold him in place, however, he shivered nervously, knowing exactly what was coming if he were unable to pull this off. “Guys, it’s me, Kurt! Oh, shit, man, this is gonna sound crazy, I mean—” But Rick was in no mood. He caught sight of Kurt’s keys on the ground and picked them up, then paced up to Kurt to tap his small nose with the tiny mudflap.

“The fuck is this, huh?” said Rick under the jingling, “What’re you doin’ sneaking in here?”

“Rick, dude, it’s me, Kurt!”

“The fuck you are! How’d you know my name, anyway? What, did you torture him or something?”

“No, dude, I—” Rick slapped Kurt across the face, the air practically sucked out of the room as the tingling heat riddled his right cheek. Rick’s vein-riddled face looked ready to explode.

“Don’t dude me, bitch!” Tears began welling in Kurt’s eyes, but Rick did not flinch. “I see what’s going on here, he stole some panties from you and you beat the shit outta him and take his clothes? The fuck is that?!”

“What the—outta me?

“Then you yank his keys so you can come back here and try to steal our shit, huh?”

“Dude, fucker, it’s me, Kurt! I’m Kurt! I’m wearing Kurt’s clothes because it’s fuckin’ me, Kurt, goddammit!”

“Rick, that sounds like Kurt, dude,” Kurt hears Jack say behind him. Phil, with straw still in mouth, sloshes his soda in agreement.

“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” Rick answered, turning once more to Kurt. “You really fucked up today, bitch. Whatever you did to Kurt, you’re in some serious shit.”

“Christ, Rick,” said Kurt unsteadily. Though trying to keep his wits about him, Kurt knows he’s in a losing battle. He can feel Phil and Jack tighten their grip.

“Omega Chi Alpha Rule 23-B,” said Rick, “no one, especially no woman, is allowed to wear the fraternity’s logo or colors except members.” Surprised he is no longer able to wrestle himself free from even Phil’s one-handed grip, Kurt looked back up at Rick with terror in his eyes. “You know, Kurt was right. We need to keep you bitches in your place. Strip her, boys.”

“But guys,” he squeaked again, moving closer to a nervous breakdown as Jack grabbed the back of his shirt, “it’s me, Kurt! You’ve gotta believe me! These panties—!”

Just then, Jack yanked the shirt off of Kurt, his two massive breasts spilling out with their nipples fully erect in the chill air blowing in from an open window. Phil dropped his drink on the floor. Though horrified, Kurt could not help but stare down in awe, stunned that these marvels were not only visible, but his. A strange wetness began to swim about his new pink panties, arousing him further. He laughed.

“The fuck is so funny?” Rick spat at him.

So distracted did Kurt become from the true nature of the danger he was in that he did not even hear Rick’s mumbling until he was clinching onto her left breast like the top of a stubborn jar, tickling its swelling tip with his tongue. It was an incredible feeling, regardless of who was triggering the sensations, and all Kurt could think of was how to get more, how to feel more. The saturation increased. In an instant, Rick moved up and rammed his mouth into hers, Kurt tasting the popcorn butter on his tongue at it probed every bump and crevice in her mouth. Then, Rick pulled back, Kurt whimpering as Rick ran his hand along the crotch of Kurt’s jeans, exploring the strange dampness that, by now, had begun to soak her crotch completely. Nearing the brink of madness from the tingling of her wetness against her newfound womanhood, Kurt pinched her shoulders and moaned a quivering tone, her tongue slipping out to wet her lips.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Rick goaded, sneering up at her.

All but vanquished by her own curiosity, Kurt noticed that Phil and Jack had loosened their grip and, in an instant, she reached out and yanked Rick back into his face, her breasts squeezing into his chest. As they embraced, a single tear dripped from Kurt’s right eye, and uncertain whether it fell from sadness or pleasure, the ex-linebacker knew only that the night would bring even more questions she would be unable to answer.
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Unread 12-09-2006   #2
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Wow, bravo man....bravo...
New one....

1/2 plus 1/2 make 1/2 of a 1/2.

What is the last 1/2?
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Unread 12-09-2006   #3
The Lord of War
Process Master? lol what?
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Thats pretty damn good
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Unread 12-09-2006   #4
Mr. Gun Happy
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Unread 12-10-2006   #5
Fred Londi
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Thanks, guys! I've been working really hard to refine my writing style for this compilation of TF stories I'm working on and I'm glad I seem to be getting closer to where I need to be.

This one was a lot of fun; I came up with Travis Forland University (TFU) and the rest just fell into place!
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Unread 12-15-2006   #6
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this was a great story. all and all i'd give it a 4 outta 5. i'd have given it a 5 if we could see what happens to Kurt
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Unread 12-19-2006   #7
Fred Londi
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As an update, this story is currently undergoing preparations to be posted at Doc's Lab. The third draft is the last post in this thread:

Originally Posted by Kirokusclone
this was a great story. all and all i'd give it a 4 outta 5. i'd have given it a 5 if we could see what happens to Kurt
Glad you like it!

I've given extending the ending serious consideration, but since it is a story revloving around a TG I felt it best to end it symbolically when Kurt gives way to feminine desire so she winds up both physically and emotionally female.

Besides, my plan is to make this woman as real as possible for the reader so you or anyone else could picture what you'd do to her if you were Rick!
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