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by Gibson Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Erotica · #1750004
Your a 16 teen year old boy and you suddenly find your self as a girl.
This choice: 30 years old  •  Go Back...
Chapter #3

Thirty-years-old, and on the road

    by: Unknown
In fact, it's not a room that you wake up inside but a car! You're in the passenger's seat, the back pulled all the way down so that you're almost horizontal. Despite being 6'1'', and very tall for your age, somehow you're curled up in a way that you don't feel squeezed in or claustrophobic in the slightest bit.

The car is cruising at a steady 60 mph. As your eyes crack open, you see a man with sunglasses and a red-tinged goatee at the wheel. He hears you groan, groggily, and without turning his head or taking his eyes off the road, says, "Feeling good now, honey?"

Honey? What is this guy talking about? You're way too exhausted to freak out, but goosebumps are rising up your flesh. You clearly went to sleep last night in your own bed, and now you're on the road with some stranger, an adult man who's addressing you as honey? Were you drugged and kidnapped? Your head feels funny, but there's nothing to suggest drugs or anything dangerous, except maybe a slight excess of alcohol. You try to lift yourself, but the seatbelt keeps you in a lowered position.

"Who... are you...?" you try to say. Your voice is off. Crackly and light. You look down at your hands and notice something different about them too, like they're thinner, tanner... and the nails are painted...

"Ha-ha," the man says, tonelessly. "Funny. We're almost to Rhode Island. Don't worry, babe. I called your parents to let them know we'd be staying at a motel instead of at their place, so you don't have to stress out about telling them. They were disappointed, of course, but I think I handled the conversation pretty well."

None of this is making any sense: the man, the 'going to Rhode Island' or the parents bit, the what looks like cleavage peeking out from the what looks like a dress you're wearing, white with a brown sash, the sort you see some girls at school wear that you can buy from Target, the voice... Your mind is starting to come together, and the details add up to a sensible picture in your head of what has happened.

"Oh no," you think, which is when the man delivers the singer:

"Rachel, just buckle in. Only a few days in hell with your family and then it's back to Illinois for the wedding.

Rachel? Oh no, oh God no! That could only mean...

http://prettywomenpictures.com/v/pretty-...

You can guess what sort of face will be staring back at you when you look in the rearview mirror.
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