Girlfriend with Testing Device Ch. 04

Author's Note: This is part four of my smutty romantic comedy series. This chapter continues the Mall Arc, which runs until chapter 6. Continuing on the themes introduced in the previous chapter, this one is also a little lighter on the smut but heavier on the swaps.

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Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

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Warning: This chapter is rated a gentle R and contains lots and lots of swaps including but not limited to swapping of bodies, heights, boobs, skills, and senses of fashion. It also includes clothes shopping (of the non-slutty variety), make-up (on a boy), sexy-librarian types (who get their comeuppance), girls (with and without dicks), girls (with dicks) peeing while standing up, (unintentionally) erotic fountains, breastfeeding (of baby girls by their fathers), true love, and, of course, a big bountiful bevy of beautifully bouncing bosoms, breasts and boobs. Enjoy!

Girlfriend with Testing Device

- A Smutty Fanfiction, of Sorts -

= Part 4 - Swapping Therapy=

By Razmagurk

Power. There's something about power that just makes you hungry to use it.

I don't consider myself a bad person. At the time I was just having a little fun. How can you say that you'd do any different if you were in my situation?

It's something I've been able to give a lot of thought to since... well, all the unpleasantness. Having a device that can casually re-render reality to suit your whims... using it on people... having it used on you... it just makes you stop and think about the consequences of your actions.

You ever get your hands on that device? Don't use it. That's my advice. If I've learned one thing this week it's that. Even when you're not trying to do any harm, the temptation to keep using it is too strong, and sooner or later everything is going to go wrong.

At the time though, well, I had a different worldview.

I was staring down my next targets - my soon to be victims. The pair of them were standing across the row. It was that stupid little punk who had been peeping up my skirt on the elevator earlier. Him and his sister had just left some store and now he was taunting her by holding her phone hostage, dangling it above her head where she, short little thing that she was, could not reach.

Now ethically, I realized even then that deep down I should probably avoid using the thing, right? Or at the very least I shouldn't be using it without everyone being aware and consenting. That would be the responsible, ethically correct choice. But knowing what is right and doing what is right are two very different things. When push comes to shove, people don't always make the best decisions, - I don't make the best decisions, - especially when no one is there to hold you accountable. It was like plato's stupid ring: as soon as you don't have to worry about answering for your crimes, your sense of justice goes out of whack.

I mean, I thought, even if the ethical path was pretty clear, didn't I have a moral obligation as well? Didn't I need to maximize human happiness? What if the world ended up a worse place because I wasn't using the device to make it better? Sure, using the device without people knowing was wrong, but I was doing it for all the right reasons, wasn't I? I mean, during those times when I was using it for the right reasons, at least. It's not like I was going to just sit back and do nothing while people suffered, right? Not if I had the ability to help them.

Where would we be if we never did anything because we were always worried about what other people would think? I wasn't a bad person, I wasn't hurting anyone, not seriously anyway.

So sure, sometimes I was tempted to use the device for selfish reasons - more frequently than not, come to think of it - and, yes, I suppose I had done some rather ethically questionable things with it already, but no one had noticed any of those changes, right? They weren't any unhappier for it and I was happier for it, so, in the end it was a net positive for the total level of human happiness, right? It was a my moral obligation, right?

Right?

Like I said, sometimes I don't make the best decisions.

Swapping the kid's underwear with his sister's earlier had evidently done little to turn him away from the path of evil. I frowned. Now that I had a little more experience with it I couldn't help but wonder if making him wear ultra-tight little-girl underwear hadn't somehow driven him further down this life of villainy. I know I'd certainly be unhappy in his situation.

And sure, being an ass to your sister isn't the biggest crime in the world or anything, but there was something about this sight that just made me swell with anger. Maybe I was still mad at him for trying to peep up my skirt on the escalator, maybe his callousness just reminded me too much of my own brother, or maybe, as I was quickly discovering, there was something about that device that just made you hungry to use it.

I could feel the cold metal of the device's case I reached into my bag. How readily it seemed to leap into my hands. Despite it's cumbersome shape and size, it was surprisingly easy to grip. I was amazed at how comfortably it seemed to fit in my hands. The low-quality countenance of the dials likewise betrayed how smoothly they spun beneath my well-manicured fingers, giving just the right amount of resistance. There was just...something so eminently satisfying about using the damn thing.

As I set the dials I thought about how proud of myself I was for actually trying out new kinds of things with it. I had been so ignorant of it's true power when I had been using it last night. Now that I knew it could do more than physical swaps it seemed like there was a vast sea of possibilities just waiting to be explored.

The electric zzzzttttt as I released the button struck like the thunder of justice.

The brat's sister reached out and snetched her phone back from her brother's hands. It was easy for her on account of the fact that she now stood a good deal taller than him. He tried to snatch it back, of course, jumping as he did so, but now it was her turn to hold it just out of reach.

It was a strange sight, the two of them. I had only swapped their heights around, so the younger sister was still clearly the younger of the two, even if her new height went a long way to hiding that fact. I had half expected her to wind up weirdly thin or stretched out, like someone had just stretched her out in photoshop, but she looked perfectly proportionate for a young girl of her height. The girl's clothing, however, had not grown along with her. It was now both far too tight and far too short. She looked like a kid who had gone through a rather sudden growth spurt and whose parents hadn't had time to buy her new clothes. I laughed. How apt.

The brat, likewise, remained proportionate with his new shorter stature even if his clothes were now fitting on him very loosely. The only thing keeping his pants (which had been kind of loose to begin with) from falling off entirely was the fact that he was holding them up in one hand. Luckily his shirt hung down low enough to cover up anything important. Mostly.

As he adjusted his clothes I caught a glimpse of something pink. I grinned. I had been right. They were Hello Kitty. That was kind of a cute irony: his underwear was probably now the only things he was wearing that even remotely fit.

Doing my best to hold back a maniacal laugh, I returned the device to my bag. My work here was done.

"Having fun?"

I turned and looked down at Evan. He had a smile on his face, but I could tell that his patience was, well, not wearing thin, but certainly warring with his excitement. He was eager to get going. The motion as he bounced gently from foot to foot with impatience was sending his tits bouncing in little waves. I was still getting used to how enthusiastic Evan was about shopping now. It was kind of fun. Come to think of it, that was another little quality of life improvement from the remote that wasn't too selfish or evil, right? Even if, at this rate, he was going to wear me down long before we were done here.

Despite my best efforts my eyes roamed downwards, attracted by that deep primal hunter's urge to track movement and boobs. I'd say that Evan's tits were each a little miracle of the universe, but frankly there was nothing little about them. Every time I looked at him I could feel my pulse quicken and my python begin to perk up. I just wanted so badly to take him aside, rip that shirt right off of him and just -

I balled my hands up tightly in an effort to bring myself to reality. I must look like a total ditz these days. It seems like if I'm not completely distracted by someone I've just swapped then I'm losing myself in all manner of torrid sexual fantasy. I needed to get my head out of the gutter.

Wait, he'd asked me a question hadn't he?

"Oh, um." I stumbled, then laughed. "Yeah. Sorry. I was just... uh..." I gestured towards the brother and sister. "Righting a wrong."

Evan looked out at the direction of my gesture and raised an eyebrow. He didn't seem to notice the pair I was referring to.

"We should go." I added. "You've got a plan, right? Where did you want to go next?"

"Oh! Well..." He beamed, glad I had asked. "I figured the most effective plan of attack would be to tackle the department store on the west end and then work our way south along the shoe stores."

I loved his smile. It was maddening how, even with all his sexy features, even with his enormous, perfectly shaped shirt stuffers and his drool-inducing posterior, he somehow made his smile and his laugh the two things about him that I loved the most. It was infectious.

"Sounds good baby, Lead on!" I gave his ass a playful smack. He stuck it out encouragingly in response.

Emboldened by my recent successes and newfound hotness, I put my hand around Evan's waist as we made our way back over to the escalators. Sexiness aside, there was just something about being taller than him, about being able to put my arms around him like this that just felt very right.

Turns out, the department store to which he had been referring had actually been one of the few places in this mall that I had ever shopped at with any regularity. I had actually gotten several of my old outfits here. At first I found it sweet that he had remembered, but then it occurred to me that, since we had swapped wardrobes, in his mind he had probably been the one who always shopped here.

The old me had loved this place, but the new me was less than enthusiastic about returning. Ever since some borderline traumatic incidents in high school I had always tried to avoid fashion. It was a thing I practiced minimally - just enough to get by. I did my best to dress conservatively, sort of serious and professional, but with enough cute touches to soften it up.

I had actually started dressing more severely after moving here. I had spent the first few months of freshman year terrified that if I dressed even remotely flirtatiously, some random dudejocks would assume I was just another one of the campus sluts and would try to pick me up, or, worse, that I'd get dragged into the world of beauty politics that all those infuriatingly perfect girls that I shared classes with seemed to be so obsessed over.

Plus, well, I'd never really had the body for it. When you're kind of mousy looking, mousy looking clothes just kind of follow naturally, don't they?

Now, however, I did have the body for it, and damned if I didn't feel a deep pressing need to play it up. The new me didn't want conservative, and the new me didn't want cute, and the new me certainly didn't want professional. The new me wanted hot, the new me wanted sexy, the new me wanted heads to turn when I went past, and if I could not have that, then those heads would roll. I wasn't going to put up with anything less than I deserved. That's the kind of confidence that new me was all about! That's what I kept telling myself anyway.

What I had wound up wearing last night had been, well, it had been a little extreme, there was no denying that. It was slutwear: the kind of slutty stuff slutty sluts wore when they were off slutting around sluttilly. At the time it had seemed appropriate, even the lack of underwear. It had been a kind of regalia to go along with the coronation of the new, hotter me.

Of course last night I had also been completely wasted. Now, with the only thing keeping people from getting a good look at my underwear being this belt of fabric trying to pass a skirt, it hardly seemed appropriate at all. If this were any other day of my life I'd have been completely mortified to wear this sort of thing, let alone leave the house in it. Today though... today I was hot and therefore I had the confidence to pull it off.

What I wanted right now, clothing wise, was something that would evoke the same kind of reaction in people as what I had worn last night, yet would function as actual, respectable clothing as well. Some pants would also have been nice. My legs, shapely as they were, were freezing.

Somehow, I doubted that I was going to find what I was looking for in here.

I was assaulted, as we entered, by that all-too-familiar department store smell, like stale clothing mixed with old perfume samples. The place was busy, but it was also large enough that it didn't really seem to make that much of a difference. You could get lost in the racks in a place like this.

I must have been completely on autopilot because the next thing I realized, Evan and I had arrived in the menswear section, where Evan, with great enthusiasm, was pulling several pairs of pants off the shelves. It was khakis and jeans, mostly, in looser fits.

I was still trying to get a feel for where Evan's new taste in fashion fell. Back in the Victoria's Secret he had really pursued all kinds of bright colors and tight fits, even if the general lines tended towards the straight and bold, but here he was picking out, well, all the usual suspects. I was a little disappointed. These were exactly the sorts of pants he already had dozens of. There wasn't even anything here that wasn't on the charcoal end of the spectrum. Maybe he had just always harbored a secret love of brightly colored underwear?

I couldn't help but notice the hunger in his eyes as he dug through the section. I guess I'd been too busy looking at his tits back in the Victoria's Secret, but the way his eyes darted from item to item, price-tag to price-tag, was like some kind of animal chasing down its prey. I guessed his newfound love of shopping had given him a great wealth of focus and skill. It seemed strangely alien, but the confidence it conveyed was... sexy, in its way. Shame his new experience as a master shopper hadn't somehow bled over into his sense of fashion.

"Oh!" he gasped, holding out a pair of dark green slacks. They weren't quite cargo pants, but they had some extra pockets on them. "Baby! I know it's not the usual color, but what do you think of these?"

"Oh," I said half-heartedly, "yeah, those look nice."

Internally, I frowned. Evan was one of those guys who liked his pockets sure, but at the end of the day if you're going to replace your whole wardrobe, why not try something new?

"Great!" he exclaimed "I think these are just about in your size too. They might be a little tight in the butt, but the legs look about right. We should go try them on so we can see."

I looked at him confused.

"O-or," he said, taking my confused look as rejection, "we could look around a little more?" He raised an eyebrow hopefully "I mean, I know you like khakis, but it would be nice to mix it up a bit maybe, you know? If you're going to replace your whole wardrobe, why not try something new, right?"

I burst out laughing. Of course. I had completely forgotten. And here I was wondering about his new taste in fashion when, from his perspective, I was the one who suddenly wanted to start wearing sexy girly things despite hitherto only owning, well... all the boring clothes I had always criticized him for wearing.

Evan smiled cutely, unsure what exactly was so funny.

"Evan?" I said, slowly.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to be wearing men's clothes."

A puzzled expression crossed his face. To his credit, it didn't last long enough to instill any offense.

"You don't want to wear men's clothes at all!?" he said shocked, then, realizing how loud he was being, he brought himself down to a whisper, "I thought it was just underwear?"

I let out another laugh. My poor sweet Evan. He really had no idea what was going on. We'd probably need a good long talk about all this when we got home. He was unaware of all the changes I had made to myself - or, well, the specifics at least - but deep down I'm sure my strange behavior probably had him all worried. That was another funny little irony.

"No, baby," I explained, matching his whispered tone. This was probably more embarrassing for him than me. "I'm a woman, right?"

He nodded enthusiastically. He had plenty of first hand experience with just how much of a woman I was, even with my enormous crotch rocket.

"So, therefore," I continued," "I want to wear women's clothing. Sexy women's clothing. Like, all of the time. I don't want to wear any of this boring stuff for men."

"Like," he furrowed his brow a bit, "any of it? At all?"

I couldn't help but notice that he seemed to completely ignore the argument I had made about it being appropriate for me to be wearing that sort of stuff. I wondered, if I pressed, if I could get him to realize the logical inconsistency, but that's something that would have to wait.

"Like," I matched his cadence, "at all."

He blinked and his bosom bounced as he took a small step back, the full weight of my words sinking in.

"Wow." He said. "Okay, that's..."

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, then reached out and cupped my hands in his. He looked me deeply in the eyes. Heroically, I defied my urge to glance down at his tits.

"Baby," he said "I'm going to be honest with you, because I recognize that it must be difficult for you to be honest about this with me, and - I imagine - with yourself." he took a deep breath while he composed his thoughts "This is - this is a lot more than I was expecting. But... but I think that that's okay. The most important thing to me is making you happy. I didn't know you felt this way and I'm a little sad that you've kept this from me all this time, but I want you to know that I'm going to stand by you no matter what, and that I think you're beautiful no matter what, and that if you want to wear women's clothing, then that's what you should do and I'm going to be there for you one hundred percent. Okay?"

I blushed at his sincerity. He probably had it in his head that this was some kind of major thing that had been building up inside of me, some aspect of my personality I've always had to hide from the world or was embarrassed by. The truth of course was that this was probably a bigger deal to him than it was to me. Nonetheless, I appreciated his support.

"Are you sure though," he continued, concerned, "that you don't want something from the menswear section that would fit your new body? I mean, what if you find yourself in some kind of formal situation?"

I had to suppress a smile as I pictured myself in a men's suit, my huge boobs bursting out of the button-up and completely engulfing the tie. That was kind of hot, actually. Shit, I'd have to have Evan try that.