None of the students in the library were showing no signs that just moments before they had been an audience of enthusiastic revelers to Dr. Jerry's demeaning display. He was still dressed like a stripper. But at least he wasn't gyrating like one too, as he resumed his original stance of merely steadying himself with what had moments before been the stacks. "At least it's over," thought Dr. Hollings. Maybe if he left now, he could find a change of clothes. But it was not to be.
Stephen looked on with sinister amusement as Jerry came to realize that his unfounded relief had been agonizingly short-lived. He gasped at the feeling of the flimsy G-string getting tighter. The remaining fabric held his erect cock at an obscene angle. He looked as if he might faint.
Dr. Jerry was far too shocked by the unwelcome feeling of his dick and balls in the tightening material. He looked down to see that the material hadn’t shrunk but that his dick had grown and was pushing the material to its limits.
His legs had gained size and definition while the other changes were taking place. Nor did he notice the subtle change in his footwear, with his highly polished shoes becoming dull and thick as they flowed upward a bit to encase his ankles and the leg just above. Becoming heavy, black ankle boots with oversized white socks that pooled casually along the top.
But a glance at his hand alerted him to the unmistakable darkening of his skin. A change far too obvious for him to miss, as he braced himself for the next round of humiliation.
Although Dr. Hollings had never before spent anything more than an occasional day sunning himself, his heretofore modest tan lines could faintly be seen high on his waist and well down his thighs. The darkening lines began creeping toward each other at a disturbingly steady pace, simultaneous with Dr. Jerry being tormented with visions of what passed for the clothing his new self had been wearing to have created these demarcations between his public and private self.
First were the modest board shorts that he normally wore, then shorts not all that different save for riding lower on his waist and higher on his legs. An image soon replaced by something that resembled Lycra cycling shorts, which accentuated rather than obscured the muscles of his legs and ass. Immediately followed by a form-fitting Speedo that rode low on his waist and laid bare his legs, leaving little to the imagination as it clearly showed the outline of his cock and what lay beneath.
The mental pictures he was being forced to confront gave no sign of relenting. For even though these visions were becoming increasingly disturbing, what followed caused Jerry to want to scream in agony.
The Speedo was no more as a string bikini popped into view, while what remained of the pink flesh identifying his private self, was uncoupled into two distinct strips surrounding his crotch in the front and his ass crack in the back. Then an ass-revealing thong, quickly followed by a cock sock . . . a translucent cock sock . . . then nothing at all. For as the last of his pale, pink skin winked out of existence, its disappearance was replaced with the certain knowledge that his skin appeared the way that it did because of his exhibitionist desire to couple his sunning with nary a stitch of clothing, regardless of what others might be wearing.
The culmination of this indignity was the darkening of Dr. Jerry's skin to an allover cafe au latte, as his tan lines merged at his dick, balls and asshole, to proclaim him as a sun-worshiping exhibitionist that was in stark contrast to the man who had stepped into the train just a few stops before.
Dr. Jerry thought to himself, "What more could possibly happen?" He shouldn't have asked.
For at that moment, a feeling of fullness invaded his ass, working its way deep inside. Dr. Jerry held the butt plug firmly in place with his sphincter alone. Horrified in the awareness that his ability to do so was due to being well-practiced in the art of using his asshole of as an instrument of pleasure.
Dr. Hollings was beyond mortified. There he stood. Practically naked. Mesh pec holder, black bow tie, black boots, silver thong and a massive butt plug hardly qualifying as a librarian’s attire. His hugely muscled body that was sun-kissed from head to toe, flauntingly on display to the library patrons His thick meaty cock, constricted by its silver thong held smartly at attention. At least it was now an impressive nine inches with balls to match, all so smooth and hairless. He could feel eyes on him as people watched him lustfully but now real surprise. How could it be that no one even batted an eye? Dr. Jerry could feel himself blush all over.
The final step in his progression was a dark tattoo on his bicep that said, “306.74.” He knew that this was the Dewey decimal notation for Prostitution.
Dr. Hollings was now an expert stripper willing to do anything for a buck but would gladly use his crumpled bills to pay student late fees.