Wiping away the tears, telling himself, "This is no time to be blubbering. You got into this mess and now you can get out," and through bleary vision, he squatted down and picked up what he thought was his pants, failing to recognise that what he had just picked up where the sweatpants as he continued to wipe his eyes.
Sniffling a bit, he continued to wipe his eyes, aware and uncomfortable with the fact that his one of his breasts was pressing against his slime arm. And as he tried one handed to pull on the sweatpants, stopping only long enough to drop his hand away from his eyes and forcibly pull the pants on, aware that something was now pressing against his hips.
Reaching down, Brian discovered that there where pockets on the sweatpants and realising what he was wearing, he shrugged and thought, "It goes with the sweatshirt. And obviously it cannot change me, so it cannot be helped if I were it," as he pulled a sock from one pocket and another sock from the other pocket, missing the tingling feeling that had begun at his waist and was slowly making its way downward.
Squatting down again, he giggled and muttered, "I'll prove that clothes cannot change a person's appearance," as he pulled on the low-rise ankle socks.
Standing, Brian turned back to the mirror and idly began to tease his hair about, disgusted with how much the pants completed the look of making him look like a sixteen year old girl. Turning away from the mirror, unaware that his posture and the way he held himself was common for a girl, Brian squatted down yet again and pulling his shoes out from under the pile of clothes, he began to slip them on, suddenly bothered by the way the front of the sweatpants where pressing into his groin.
Failing to see that his shoes where now clearly to big, Brian spun about and glared at the mirror, as if it was the reflective objects fault for what was happening to him. Hand trembling, Brian pulled at the drawstring, undoing that which he had tied only moments ago. Slowly he slipped his hand down his pants and then nearly screamed aloud.
Yanking his hand out, almost as if he had been scalded by hot water, Brian forcibly yanked downward on the pants, suddenly exposing his now smooth and flat groin. Pushing the pants down a bit more, Brian took in his thighs, twisted around to attempt to look at his butt, and pushing the sweatpants all the way down, he moaned as he took in the fact that now he was all female and that somehow...he still refused to believe that it was the clothes transforming him...he been turned into a sixteen year old girl.
Running a hand over his smooth legs, Brian stopped as he reached his privates. And with a trembling hand, he spread his legs and gently touched the area, a shudder over pleasure running through his now feminine body.
Pulling his hand away, an idea flashes through his mind and telling himself, "I'll prove that I am not a girl," he gently starts to rub his breast with one hand, while reaching down and gently rubbing the area between his legs, thoughts of how nice it would be for a girl to be touching him in the exact same manner; the smell of her skin and hair tickling his nostrils; the feel of his body as it rubbed up against Brian's; the sensation he would feel when he stuck his erect member in....
Brian jerked his hand away before he could go any farther, suddenly realising that he had been close to Jilling off by thinking not of a girl, but of a boy.
"And not just any boy," Brian thought, another shudder running up his body. "But Jake Forbes, captain of the football team," one hand starting to drift back down, while the other slowly caressed and then began its work once again on the breast, gently rubbing the sweatshirt against the erect nipple, causing a moan to escape past Brian's small, pouty lips.
"No," he suddenly shouted, and listening to the echo, Brian suddenly worried that he might have been heard.
Hiking up the pants and retying the drawstring, Brian backed away from the mirror, tripped over his backpack, thought about kicking off his shoes, which he suddenly realised where much too big for his now tiny feet and turning about in place, Brian dashed toward the door of the bathroom. Unlocking it, he wrenched it open and not caring if he was spotted, began to make his way down the hall and toward the front doors of the high school.
Outside, he hugged himself against the autumn air, thought about going back for his jacket, shrugged instead and telling himself, "I cannot go back," he made his way down the front walk as the bell to end second period rang, failing to notice as a black car started, its Hydrem engine making a purring noise as it pulled out.
None of this mattered to the boy turned girl. All Brian cared about was getting away and maybe finding some place quiet he could sit and think, while behind him, the woman driving the black car slowly followed.