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Warning: this chapter is rated a dramatic R and contains pole-dancing, boobs, topless protagonists, stripping, tits, body swaps, slutty behavior, battle scars, hunky boys, gender confusion, sexy girls, memory manipulation, seduction, self-realization, self-actualization, shy boys, reality blindness, heartbreak, betrayal, conflict, struggle, desperately horny protagonists, memory manipulation, betrayal, and two lovers doing their best to earn their happy ending.

Girlfriend with Testing Device

- A Smutty Fanfiction, of Sorts -

= Part 11 -- The breast of times, the worst of times =

By Razmagurk

I don't know which was worse. The nervousness or the arousal.

Don't get me wrong, I love showing off for guys. Guys have been drooling over me since I was an awkward pre-teen. They can't help it, there's just something about me that they love. And i mean, I've never minded the attention. Come on, let's face facts. Boys are delicious. So it gives me a bit of a sexy thrill when I wiggle my hips at them or bend at the waist to pick something up. I like knowing they appreciate me.

This though? This was completely different. This was me going out there and advertising myself as a sex object. It was practically seduction. That's not something I normally get in to. I'm a romantic, normally you gotta wine and dine me a little before I show you my underwear, that's just how I am. Uhg, even if some of those guys in the audience had been kinda hot.

That was the other thing that was bugging me. I was horny. I don't know what it was, but the idea of going out there and showing off in front of everybody was getting me aroused to the point of distraction. My whole body was just completely flooded with the strange sensation of female arousal. Familiar, recognizable, but oh so wonderfully different. I was warm and wet and just oh so ready. I wanted to revel in it, enjoy it for the amazing wonder it was, but it was like a dog humping my leg, I couldn't ignore its urgency any longer.

And right outside was a huge crowd of horny men just waiting for me. I bit my lip in anticipation.

I inhaled slowly, trying to calm my nerves, but all I could do was smell the lust in the air, desperate hormones mingling with the odor of beer and sweat. Fuck. I rubbed my legs together. I was practically dripping. Would they notice? Oh god I hoped they would. There was nothing I wanted more than to go out there and show those guys the hottest fucking show they had ever seen.

And yet, I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. I wanted to, but... but this wasn't me. I'd never done anything like this before. I was some kind of ridiculous imposter. They'd know. How could they not know?

"Baby..." I said, turning to look at Ellen. Her eyes were sparkling in excitement. Of course. She wanted to see me out there just as much as those guys. I didn't need to look down to see how hard she was. The look in her eyes gave it away. As nervous as I was, the idea of letting her down hit all the harder. "I... I don't know if I can do this!"

"Of course you can, baby!" she gave a drunken cheer. "You're hot, and you're sexy, and you're confident! You can do whatever you want, baby. You just have to take that first step. I believe in you!"

I fiddled nervously with the hem of my skirt, tugging it lower. The hips on this new body were a little wider than I was used to and my skirt kept riding up as a result. I looked back towards the stage and took one half-sure step before turning back with a look of horror. "W-wait no," I cried. "I really can't go out there."

"It's okay to be nervous baby." Ellen laughed softly as she grabbed my hand, a steely look in her eyes. "It's like Jessy says, everyone gets nervous their first time doing something like this in public. But you need to remember that this is something you want to do. Remember that you own your sexuality, and that this is something you've chosen to do with it. Don't let your nerves stop you from doing what you want to do! Otherwise Elizabeth and I would never be able to work up the courage to go out and do stuff like this? Right Elizabeth?"

"Right!" Elizabeth smiled. Then she blinked and looked at Ellen confused. "Wait, what do you mean you and I?"

"Come on, we're always doing crazy stuff like this!" Ellen waved her hand in the air dismissively. "Like, that time we got up on the table at that party last month and we danced around topless while rubbing our boobs together, remember?"

Elizabeth just furrowed her brow and went oddly quiet.

"Okay, maybe you don't remember, we were pretty smashed. But the point is," she turned to look me deeply in the eyes, "that you are in charge here and the only person who has the right to judge you about this is you, okay? Now go out there and be the agent of your own self actualization! Seize control of your sexual self! Go out there and have some fun! You're going to do great out there! I love you, and I know you're going to do great."

"I love you too." I smiled back at her as I pulled her in mardin escort for a great big hug. "But that's not it." I laughed nervously. "No, we've forgotten something very important."

"What's that?" she asked.

"I..." I sighed, "I can't dance."

"What?" cried Elizabeth, "What do you mean, you can't dance? Have you seen you?"

"Yeah baby," Ellen nodded "I think you might be underestimating yourself. You've got more sexy in your walking then most of these girls have all day."

There was some murmuring from the crowd. They seemed confused about the hold up.

"Aw, thank you, baby. But no, seriously. That's not dancing. Sure, I know how to present, what to present, but... I've got no rhythm -- and I've certainly never worked a pole before."

"But we've gone out to dance plenty of times!" Ellen grabbed my hips and pulled me close as she began rocking me back and forth to the music. "Look!"

"Yeah," I laughed as she spun me around, "and I'm fine making a fool of myself with you. But swaying arthymically in the corner of a bar does not qualify me for stripping and pole work!"

"Oh my god," sighed Elizabeth.

The murmur of the crowd was growing louder. They were getting impatient. I could feel my pulse quickening. I could feel the pressure in the back of my head. I hated letting people down.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I just... It didn't even occur to me, I was so caught up in everything. I should have said something sooner. I can't go out there. I just don't have what it takes."

"No, baby, it's fine." giggled Ellen. "I think we can fix that." She held the device up and gestured to the latino girl who had come off stage before me. She was counting her money in the corner.

"Here." she gestured. Elizabeth and I both put our hands on the device right as Ellen eagerly slammed down the button.

Zzzzttttt!

I'll be honest, I flinched. I was expecting another big rush. Instead it felt... well, I didn't feel anything.

Did it work? I blinked as I looked down at my body. I ran a languid hand over my hips and gave a wiggle. The movement was smooth and graceful and perfectly in time with the low thumping music. Experimentally, I did a quick little pirouette. Oh my god, I could dance. A big stupid grin broke over my face. This was amazing. I'd loved dancing my whole life, even as a kid when my grandmother would teach me how to salsa I always had a natural talent for it, and now I could... wait...

Hold on... that didn't sound right. Both of my grandmothers both passed away before I was born... and I was pretty sure neither of them were dance queens.

Why had I thought I couldn't dance? I was an amazing dancer. I'd been dancing since before I could remember. I had spent so much of my childhood in dance classes it wasn't even funny. I remember begging my parents to enroll me in ballet. It was a struggle, being the only hispanic girl there, but that just made me work all the harder, like I had something to prove.

Okay, wait, hold on. That definitely wasn't right. I'd spent my childhood secretly envious of all the girls who got to do ballet while I was stuck doing basketball. And I certainly wasn't hispanic.

"Fuck." I put my hand on my head and stumbled back, leaning against the wall for support.

My head was swimming. I tried to think back, to sort through these new memories, to figure out what was me and what was foreign. I had so many happy memories of learning new moves and of training and competing in one form or another. I always got bored eventually, so I'd experimented with a lot of different styles. I smiled fondly at the memory of daddy's face - the face of a stranger - as I won that big stupid ballroom trophy.

"Evan?"

I shook my head.

And then as I got older so did my dancing. I'd noticed how much guys loved it when I danced for them and everything changed. I remembered getting into a huge fight with my mother when I told her I wanted to try burlesque. I remembered the excitement as I stood in front of my first pole at the old firehouse. I remembered trying out for the varsity pole dancing team like it was yesterday. I was so excited when they offered me a spot, only to realize I had to give it up because I couldn't balance work with the extracurriculars. I pouted. That still stung.

"Evan?"

I tried to focus. Maybe if I focused I could deduce which thoughts were new and which were artificial, but this wasn't like some video highlight reel or anything, these were old memories, fuzzy but fondly recalled. How the hell was I supposed to figure out which of an entire lifetime's worth of hazilly half-memories were fake?

Like, I intimately remembered spending prom getting down and dirty with a bunch of cute boys out on the dancefloor. Yet, at the same time I remembered going to prom with Vickie Jackson... but that couldn't be right either... I didn't like girls like that. Why had I been dating her? Maybe I had gone with her and then just danced with all the boys van escort instead? This didn't make any sense...

I exhaled. I hadn't even realized I had been holding my breath.

"Evan?" Ellen put her hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I looked around. I had forgotten where I was for a minute.

I looked over at the latino dancer in the corner. She had a towel around her neck as she continued counting off her small collection of bills. She was grooving awkwardly to the music. Were these memories hers? They must be. My breath shortened. How much of who I was was was really her? Oh my god, how much of her was me? What memories had I given up in exchange?

I desperately searched my head for some clue as to my own personal dancing experience, but I just kept drawing a blank. I could have studied tap for years for all I knew. All I knew for sure was that moments ago I hadn't had the confidence or skill to do a basic pole routine. I'd been a total ameture. I had always loved dancing so much, I could hardly believe there was a time just moments ago when I didn't.

Oh my god, and I was going to give it all up wasn't I? I couldn't think of a worse fate. Dance was such a huge part of my life... except that it wasn't, was it? It was a part of hers. She would have been just as horrified if she knew. What right did I have to take that from her? Uhg. I was either way too drunk or way too sober to deal with this right now.

"Evan!"

Ellen had grabbed my other shoulders and started shaking. My eyes snapped to attention. Ellen and Elizabeth were giving me concerned looks.

"I..." I looked back and forth between the two of them. "Sorry. I'm fine."

"Oh my god" said Ellen. "You had me worried. I thought maybe the device had fucked up or something."

In the background I could hear the crowd growing restless.

"Maybe a little..." I put my hand on my head. "That... that was a bit of a doozy..." I gave her a wry smile. "I'll tell you later, okay? Right now it would be rude to keep those boys waiting any longer."

"You're sure you're okay?"

I took a deep breath and nodded as I adjusted my skirt. It was important that all the lines on my slutty little maid costume were perfect. I was surging with newfound confidence. It was time to go out there and show the world what I was made of.

"Wish me luck!" I said, marching towards the stage.

"Good luck, baby!"

"I don't think you'll need it." laughed Elizabeth.

And with that I stepped out onto the stage.

A sense of deja vu washed over me. Hadn't I just gotten off stage? Hadn't I been dancing just a moment ago? But no, of course not. That was the other me, wasn't it? Not that I would ever turn down the chance to dance.

The lights on stage seemed to burn brighter than they had any right to. Logically, I knew they had nothing on the various spotlights I'd danced under over the course my career, but the effect was still the same. It conveyed a clear message: I was the center of attention. In this entire room - this entire building - all eyes were on me.

They grinned as they saw me. Dozens upon dozens of suggestive smiles. A sea of big, horny men, all just tantalizingly out of reach, watching me like I was a piece of meat. Fuck, why was that turning me on so much?

I stumbled in my stiletto heels as I looked around the room. Hungry, impatient eyes stared back at me.

Oh god, what was I doing?

I was standing in front of a bunch of guys in a woman's body pretending to be a stripper. Someone was going to notice, and they'd be angry when they found out. How could they not? It was only a matter of time until I did something to give myself away. I didn't know how to act like a girl, how to flirt like a girl, how to move like a girl. I was going to fuck this up somehow, and then they'd riot. I tried to focus. How the hell did women move? I had to make sure all my movements were as feminine as possible. Oh god. Why had i thought this was a good idea?

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, waiting for the booing to begin.

Instead a tiny cheer came from somewhere in the back, snapping me back to reality. I opened my eyes and blinked. These guys, these big strong men, weren't angry or betrayed or fooled. They were... intrigued. No, that's not quite right. They were horny. The impatience in their eyes was that old familiar male lust. It was the look of a wolf impatiently waiting to pounce.

They really had no idea what I really was, did they? Or... they did, I guess... but they didn't care? They thought I was hot at least, I guessed. That was good. I thought I was hot too, right? Hot is what I wanted. Hot and confident, confident and feminine, just like that girl who had been up on stage earlier. She didn't have anything that I didn't have. I wasn't a guy pretending to be a girl. I was a girl. And here, in this moment this was all that mattered.

I took another deep breath and plucked up my courage. It was time to give those hungry eyes ankara escort a taste of what a real woman looked like.

The song playing was a remix of some generic pop song. It was a little slower than I'd like, to be honest, but I could totally work with it. I tend to like songs with a lot of energy, they let me really get out there and have some acrobatic fun. This was fine though, I could work with it. Lots of languid thoughtful movements, that was the trick to slow stuff. Grace and control.

I looked out towards the pole and smiled. That's also very key. Smile. Smile and make eye contact. It shows you're engaged. I tried for a look that was flirtatious and smouldering while being just coy and demure enough that I could pull off the maid's outfit. Submissive, but horny. That's what guys are looking for, right?

I strutted forward and circled the pole, hips swaying, showing the boys what I was all about. This was the hook. I needed to make them curious. I needed them to be invested. I ran my hands along the soft, supple flesh of my body, drawing their attention to my best features. Long, languid strokes. I wanted to let them know in no uncertain terms that I was there's if they had the cash. This wasn't a dance, this was a sale.

The crowd began to cheer. Had I seriously likened them to wolves earlier? No, they were more like a herd of puppies, and I was dangling a meaty steak over their pen. Except, I guess in this metaphor I was the steak. Fuck. I'm juicy enough alright. My whole body felt tingly just thinking about how hard I must be getting them. There wasn't a man in this room who didn't want me right now.

The music began to pick up. I brought my leg up and pivoted, facing the pole. I slammed my leg down, the heel clacking musically as my ass shook. I bent down at the waste and ran my delicate hands along the long hard length of the pole. I presented them with my marvelous ass, wiggling it to the rhythm. That got them murmuring. They loved it. I loved it. I thrust my head up, like I was writhing in pleasure.

Okay, Elizabeth was right. This was fun.

I grabbed the pole and spun, sliding down and taking myself to the ground so that I was practically seated in front of it. I like doing a lot of Floorwork. It brings you closer to the guys. Brings the show to their level. Sensuously, I waved my hips back and forth, drawing attention to my butt and exposed midriff. My body followed suit as I roll in symbolic ecstasy. Then I took a deep breath and spread my legs. I let out a shiver. I wasn't wearing anything beneath my skirt.

The crowd went wild.

A dollop of truth worked its way into the smile on my face, but I did my best to contain it. Gotta be sultry. The last thing I wanted is for them to realize how much fun this was for me. I needed to be sensual, sexual... I couldn't just go around grinning like an idiot.

Luckily, getting my mind back to a sexy place wasn't that hard. Fuck, I mean, a dozen guys were staring right at my pussy. I blushed, but not out of embarrassment. My breath was quick in my chest, and it wasn't from the exercise. My whole body was rapidly heating up. I mean, it wasn't even my pussy, it was just a loaner, but damned if it didn't feel so right. They must have seen how wet I was getting. I bet they fucking loved it. I lingered for just a second, making sure they got a good look.

Mentally, I chastised myself for getting distracted. Flow is everything. Keep moving.

Leaving the pole I rolled over, one leg bent at the knee as I did, a symbol of demure femininity. I kept my legs spread as I came to a stop, lying on my back at the edge of the stage, body oh-so gently arced in arousal. I smile internally as I imagined the way my long pink hair must be strewn about my head. It was a pose that told the world that I was vulnerable and demure and desperate for someone to come along and just take me.

The guys were starting to throw money up on stage now. I don't know how much girls normally make doing this, but it seemed to me like they were being very generous indeed. I reached down and grabbed a handful of bills, deftly stuffing them into the waistband of my short little skirt.

Then, with a spin of my legs I rolled my body up into a shoulder stand. One leg sticking straight up, the other sensually climbing down along it. I twirled them around each other in time to the music before lowering them together to the ground, then rising up at the hip, head trailing behind my massive chest.

Have I mentioned how much I loved my boobs? God I loved the way my boobs moved. They jiggled and bounced and swayed and it just felt so feminine and so fucking right, like this was something I had been missing all my life. Who wouldn't want these over those boring jock pecs I had? I mean, sure, they were probably back pain city, but damned if they weren't so fucking worth it.

Legs bent, I rolled my body up and caught onto the pole behind me. I spun around it, swinging my leg out long in line with my body to give the boys a show. I used the opportunity to reposition until I hung with one hand while supporting my weight with my legs, if I wasn't on my back I'd look like I was on all fours. I lifted my left leg in the air, then brought it down crossing over my right, then back up again. The length of my high heels creating a grand feminine elegance with every move of my leg.