Boys in the theater start shuffling in their seats, and you hear the occasional fly unzip. You reach into your pants and make an adjustment to yourself, enjoying the momentary touch.
Pinocchia and Chandi have both now left the “Kiss and Tell” room and are back out on the boardwalk. However, the “Kiss and Tell” isn’t the only place makingout was going on. Girls were necking in the streets, and many of them had started stripping their clothes off. The camera focuses on two girls necking in the street by a roller coaster. They were both topless, but had long pointed ears. Other girls had full tails, others had both, but no one was reacting to them.
The camera would move and focus on girls kissing, and fondling each other. You sweat terribly watching, aching for relief from your pants. You reach down to them, but you notice something strange, they seemed a lot looser on you. Your belt was still at the same notch, but there was more room. Not only that, but your shoes were loose on your feet. You reached down and your shoe slides right off. You slip off your sock and look at your foot. It was different some how… smoother, smaller for sure. Then you notice your legs, the hair on them was gone. You feel all the way up to your shorts, but they’re completely smooth. Then, something else catches your eye. Your t-shirt was pushed out at your chest. Two bulges had formed in front of you and you pull out your collar and look down. Too dark to see, so you lift your shirt up and look.
You gasp! You have breasts. Two large breasts, and your chest hair had all vanished. “What’s happening,” you blurt out, hearing your higher pitched voice, “Am I a girl.” There was one thing left to check. You nervously reach down into your pants, you feel the familiar hair, but then, you shutter with fright and slight pleasure as you enter the tip of your vulva.
“This can’t be real,” you say, again surprised at your voice. No one else in the theater seems to be reacting, but it was too dark to see if they had changed as well.
Up on the screen, Pinocchia and Chandi had entered the familiar “Eight-Ball” pool hall. Both of them were topless, Pinocchia’s wood grain continuing across her breasts which were anything but rigid. They were as soft and round as any other woman. “This place is some fun, eh Pinocchia,” Chandi smirks and takes a long sip of a beer. As she does, her ears shoot up into long donkey ears.