[MF][TG] The Perfect Girlfriend

“Duuuuuude,” Jake groaned out, “I swear time is slowing down.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, straightening up the beef jerky display. He paid careful attention to lining up each of the cardboard packers, keeping them flush with the shelf’s edge. “That’s because you’re staring at the clock, dumbass.”

“Whatever. We’ve gotten all of like three customers today. I’m so fucking bored.” He leaned over the counter, slamming his head down on it with a loud *thud*.

“If you’re that bored, why don’t you go unpack the pallet for tomorrow morning?” Elliot’s faux customer service voice rang out especially hollow with the request.

“Oh fuck you, that stuff’s heavy and it’s not like we won’t have plenty of time in the morning.” Jake’s head was still down on the counter, muffling his voice slightly.

*Yeah, because I always get here early*, Elliot thought. “Can you keep your eyes open for the next 5 minutes? I gotta use the bathroom.”

A muffled “Whatever” was all he got back. He glanced outside into the empty parking lot, scanning to make sure there wasn’t going to be any sudden rush, unlikely as it was on a Thursday afternoon. Satisfied, he turned and walked back towards the employee bathroom, which just so happened to be the only bathroom. He pushed open the door, and fumbled for the light switch.

The pallid, awful florescent bulbs flickered on, bathing the space in a sickly, cold light.

*No matter how often I clean in here, it always looks like a crime scene.*

He raised the toilet seat with the toe of his shoe, then unzipped and released. When he was finished, he shook a few times, and while zipping back up, he felt his phone buzz. After flushing, he pulled it out, and saw the notification from the eBay app. “Oh, shit!” he said to himself.

Package Delivering today

He did a little fist pump. He’d been waiting for this for weeks.

*I’m glad I didn’t have to open a ticket with the seller.* His anxiety fluttered a little just at the thought. He closed it, and put it in his pocket again.

The faucet let out a deep warble as the water sputtered out. He grimaced, then put a few pumps of soap on his hands. As he scrubbed, he did a quick check-up of himself in the mirror. His slightly rounded face looked like death under these lights, but he couldn’t see any blemishes, other than the one small mole under his left eye. The asymmetry of it always bothered him, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. His light blond hair was still glued into place, in a perfect back-comb, the same as he’d done it this morning. He glanced down briefly, checking his company shirt and khakis. They never flattered him, being a little on the heavier side.

*Why do we even wear business casual? It’s a fucking convenience store.*

He sighed. *Guess that’s just how we do it in suburban midwestern Hell.*

“You didn’t break anything while I was in there, did you?” Elliot half joked, walking back up to the service counter.

Jake glared at him briefly, then returned to scribbling on the notepad he was writing on.

Elliot glanced down at it, and cocked an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Listing out the pros and cons of actually going on this date tonight.”

“Did you already make the plans?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why wouldn’t you go?”

“I don’t know, man. I guess I’m just not really that into her.”

“Then why did you make the plans?!”

Jake looked slightly ashamed. “I’m down real bad, dude.”

Elliot let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a dick if you cancel.”

Setting the pen down, Jake’s head hung low. “Yeah. I know. The last few tries haven’t gone so well. I guess I’m just kind of over it.”

Elliot gave his coworker a light clap on the back. “It’ll be okay, Tiger. Maybe you guys will really click.”

Jake blew his long, dark curls out of his eyes, his brow in a deep line of concern. “I hope so.”

**∾ ∾ ∾**

It was an unassuming package. A simple white box, with minimal packing supplies in it. There wasn’t even a return address on it. Elliot turned the package over in his hands, feeling its weight. Reaching into the neatly packed babble wrap, he pulled out the object of his anticipation: a single, polished stone. The seller had guaranteed that it was premium quality double-terminated quartz, casually referred to as a “Herkimer Diamond.” He rolled it around in his hand, feeling how solid it felt, and watching the light dance on its surface.

He glanced up to the shelf with all his geodes and crystals, on the wall in his common area of his one bedroom apartment. It would make a lovely addition.

As he went to go find a place for it, he suddenly noticed it was warm. There was a presence, an energy to it.

*Maybe I should keep this one on me. For good luck.*

He smiled, and set it on his dining table, next to his keys. He stretched. It was time for dinner and YouTube.

He’d just queued up an “Unsolved Mysteries of the Internet” video essay when his phone went off. It was from Jake.

*Oh boy. Here we go.*

He unlocked his phone and read the text.

`bro. bad time.`

He shook his head.

`Gee, you think it was because you aren’t that into her?`

`no man she was just crazy. she talked about her cats for for like an hour!`

`I like cats.`

He smirked. Jake’s dating habits irked him. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was a terrible listener and had commitment issues.

`not helping dude.`

`Maybe you should take a break. Dating seems to not be your thing. I’ll see you at work.`

`fine. nite.`

He tossed his phone onto his bedspread and started the video back up.

**∾ ∾ ∾**

Elliot rolled the crystal around in his fingers, enjoying the pleasant sensation of the polished stone rubbing against his skin. It was a necessary distraction to deal with his down-in-the-dumps coworker.

“I kept trying to talk about other things, like how I thought her dress was cool. It looked homemade, like for a Ren Fair costume or something? But it was always back to the damn cats!” Jake laid on the floor behind the counter, staring up at the ceiling, his arms splayed out. “It’s like she wasn’t even listening!”

“Maybe you know how it feels now,” Elliot commented absently.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He tried to kick Elliot’s ankle, but missed.

He glanced down to Jake, “I mean I’ve seen you with women. You’re not exactly ‘all ears’ with them either. You stare at their tits, then when you realize that’s rude, you try to brag about something you’re not actually good at.”

Jake pouted. “I just get bored. I never have anything to talk to them about.” He got a cocky look. “Thankfully this face does most of the heavy lifting.” He intentionally emphasized his cut jawline, and high cheekbones.

Elliot’s slate gray eyes nearly rolled back into his head. “That’s why you only ever hook girls you have nothing in common with. It’s all physical. You talk to me just fine, why can’t you talk to them?”

“You’re not a woman, dipshit.”

“Is the fact that you think they’re hot really *that* big of a change in context? What do we do all day?” He gestured broadly to the store.

“Nothing. We bullshit. Yesterday I asked you whether or not The Matrix makes more sense with the humans being used as processors instead of batteries, and you launched into a tirade about how it’s actually all an allegory for being trans.”

“Listen, the Wachowski Sisters said it, not me, and they have the authority. I just thought that was a cool angle.”

Jake blinked.

“Anyway, my point is, if you can talk to me about stupid bullshit, and we have fun, why can’t you do the same with someone you want to get with?”

“Because women aren’t into that kind of shit.”

Elliot clapped. “And *that’s* the real problem. There absolutely exist women who are. You’re just letting your dick pick your partners, not your brain.”

“Whatever, dude.”

“I’m just saying, your dating history’s a fucking shitshow, and the only thing they all had in common is that the first words you used to describe them were ‘so fucking hot.'” He mocked Jake’s voice.

“I can’t pick who I’m attracted to!” He looked offended.

“Yeah, but you could spend a little more effort looking. Ever thought about meeting someone at, like, an old film store? One of those places in the city with vintage posters and VHS tapes? I’ll bet any woman there would *love* to talk horror schlock with you.”

Jake waved his hand dismissively.

“Fine, dude. Keep suffering then. Eventually, I’m going to stop coming to your rescue after your shitty breakups. Speaking of which, I still haven’t gotten my Rose Quartz back.”

“The pink rock? Why’d you bring it over anyway?”

“It promotes healing and protection, I told you that when I gave it to you.”

“It’s just a rock, dude. I don’t know, I’ll look for it if you want.”

Elliot sighed. “Why the fuck do I bother?” He leaned forward on the counter and fiddled with the stone.

“Hey, if you’re such an expert on women, how come you aren’t drowning in pussy? You never hook up with anyone.”

Elliot gestured vaguely. “Just not that important to me, I guess. Plus, I mean…I’m 23 and work at a convenience store. Not exactly in a prime relationship position.”

“Neither am I dude, but I still get top shelf ass.” Jake flashed a smile.

“You know that phrase is a myth. The best liquors were kept on the *bottom* shelf, out of sight of the customers.”

“Uugghh,” the floor bound clerk put his hands on his face, “I fucking *hate* when you do that shit.”

It got quiet for a while.

“Hey, what is that thing? You’ve been fuckin’ around with it all day.” Jake pulled himself up to get a closer look.

“It’s a special kind of quartz crystal, called a Herkimer Diamond, even though it’s not a diamond at all.”

“You and your rocks.”

Elliot shrugged. “My rocks have more in common with me than your dates do with you.”

Jake punched him in the arm, gently. He got a little closer, starting at it. “Mind if I touch it for a sec?”

Elliot hesitated, but handed it over to him.

“Whoa, it’s warm. Is that just from your hands?”

“No, it actually came out of the box like that. I’m not sure if it’s a property of the rock or what, but it feels kinda…satisfying? I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Yeah, It’s like a little handwarmer.” Jake rolled it around in his palm. He sighed.

“For real, though. I wish I could just like…have the perfect girlfriend, you know?” He suddenly jerked his hand, dropping the stone onto the counter. It landed with a hard *crack*.

“What the fuck, dude?” Elliot snatched it away, checking it for chips.

“Fuck! It got really hot all of a sudden. Shit, that hurt!” He flexed his fingers experimentally, testing for burns.

After assuring himself it was undamaged, Elliot paused. “Huh. It’s…actually kind of cold now.” He looked over at Jake. He put his hands up in an “I-Don’t-Know-Dude” pose.

*Maybe I should just keep this on the shelf after all.*

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/st4baz/mftg_the_perfect_girlfriend

1 comment

  1. *Ohh, a new NexPo episode, great!*

    Elliot queued up the video, and got into bed. He only managed to get about five minutes in before he’d drifted off.

    His dreams were a swirling mess, almost nothing coherent. Just a vague sense of something being wrong, amiss. He couldn’t quite place it, but as his subconscious drifted through the layers of dreams, there was simply a mounting dread that he needed to wake.

    His eyes snapped open the next morning, drenched in a cold sweat.

    *Jesus fuck, what time is it?*

    He grabbed his phone. It was nearly 6:30. He still have another 30 minutes to get ready. He breathed a sigh of relief. As he sat up, he felt…off. His balance didn’t seem right. Like there was a weight on his chest. He glanced down.

    *What the fuck?!*

    There, underneath his shirt, Elliot saw two large, distinct forms, stretching the fabric. His mouth dropped open.

    *Are…are those…tits?!*

    He clumsily lifted his top up, having to pull it over his enlarged chest, and felt the weight of each of them slap against his torso as they were freed. He stared in abject horror. Now completely exposed, were a pair a large, full breasts, capped with prominent pink nipples.

    He scrambled out of bed, tripping and nearly falling to the floor, and ran to his bathroom. He fumbled with the light switch, noticing it felt a little higher than where it normally was, and let his eyes adjust to the harsh light. He gawked at himself in the mirror.

    There, standing where he expected his reflection to be, was a woman. A *beautiful* woman, he noticed. His hair was still the same color, but it now cascaded down his back, to about 6 inches below the shoulder. His eyes, still their cold gray hue, where much larger, and framed with long, full lashes. The figure staring back had an almost permanent look of wide-eyed innocence. She had slightly fuller features, but a cute upturned nose, pointed chin, full, pouty lips, and slender neck and shoulders that seemed nearly comically out of proportion with the main event of his upper body: his breasts.

    They were *huge*. He didn’t know how to estimate cup sizes very well, but he knew he was at least twice his cousin’s size, and she complained about finding cute styles in the D Cup range. They seemed to defy gravity, barely sagging at all. They shook with his every heaving breath.

    His eyes continued downward, across his tummy. He’d been rather chubby before, and while he wouldn’t describe his new body as *thin*, it was certainly better distributed. His belly only had a slight outward curve to it, and was otherwise relatively flat. The majority of his weight seemed to have collected elsewhere…

    His lower body, predominantly.

    His hips were wide, giving him a very distinct, almost overly-exaggerated hourglass form. He turned slightly to see his backside.

    *Jesus…*

    His ass was enormous. Over the course of the night, he’d outgrown his boxer-briefs, splitting them almost entirely down the back. Two large, round, wobbling orbs balanced on top of his thick thighs, practically creating a shelf of butt. He had, what could conservatively be called, an *absolute dump truck*.

    He was ***thick***.

    He heard himself whimper, then stopped short.

    “Oh fuck!” he said out loud, hearing the new soprano tone that came out.

    *That’s my voice?*

    He reached his hand up to the mirror, touching hands with the reflected image.

    “What the fuck happened?”

    **∾ ∾ ∾**

    `Dude I can’t come in to work today. Medical emergency.`

    His smaller, more slender fingers, coupled with his longer nails, kept messing up the keys as he typed.

    `wtf man youre gonna bail one me? im gonna be so bored you better be dying`

    Elliot sighed. He’d never called in to work a day in his life, and his anxiety was peaking inside him.

    `You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.`

    It was another minute or so before Jake’s next text came in.

    `im coming over after work. if youre calling in its serious and youre not keeping this a secret`

    *Fuck*. He knew that tone, he wasn’t going to win this one.

    `You have to promise to stay calm, and not freak the fuck out on me okay?`

    `okay i wont`

    He set his phone down, his hands shaking.

    His whole body just felt so *different*. Soft and warm, he jiggled and moved with every small motion. It was a lot to get used to. He’d also noticed he lost roughly 6 inches in height, going from 5’8″ to about 5’2″.

    The only thing he could find that would fit over his gargantuan ass was a pair of very old, intentionally baggy pair of flannel pants. He’d had to shimmy just to get them on, and if he bent over, even a little, he felt the fabric press into his crack, his big cheeks stretching it to its limits. He obviously didn’t own any bras, either, so his tits were completely free beneath a zip-up hoody he’d gotten years ago. He was even still unfamiliar with the feeling of having hair this long, as it swished and got in his way constantly. He attempted a ponytail with a rubber band he found in his kitchen junk drawer, but it tugged on his roots and hurt.

    *Man, girl bodies are such a fucking pain.*

    He slowly got up, stretched, and headed to the kitchen. With the panic settling down a bit, he was famished.

    Perusing his fridge gave him nothing, so he went to reach for his cabinets…suddenly realizing he was too short.

    *Goddamnit.*

    He tried jumping, but he couldn’t quite get his fingers up to the door handles. Bracing his arms against the counter’s edge, and squishing his tits together, he hoisted himself up, allowing him to stand on it.

    *Fucking short girl problems.*

    He rummaged a bit, until he found a half-empty Pringles can. That would do.

    He hopped back down, feeling every inch of his body shake and wobble, then popped the lid off and headed back to his bedroom. He reached into the can.

    *Oh…I can actually fit my hand in here. Huh.*

    He glanced at his laptop’s clock as he got back into bed with his snack. Only seven and a half more hours until Jake would come around. How the hell was he going to explain this?

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