Exchange Students

He looked around for something to write on. He looked through the open passageway into the kitchen. On the refrigerator was a note pad. He strode over to it, and jotted down her phone number, using the pencil hanging from a string. He turned to go, and then saw Michael's phone, on the kitchen counter. He picked it up and dialed her number. "I better give her a call."

Michael really, really wanted him to leave, but it was probably a good idea to check in with her. He stepped out of Marcia's panties and strolled into the kitchen, wearing only her socks and shoes. It felt a little chilly to be so entirely naked, but somehow it didn't bother him.

"Hello?" It was Marcia on the other end.

It was rather strange to hear her voice on the line while gazing upon her naked lusciousness standing before him. She had a little birthmark on one of her breasts. He felt an impulse to point that out to her, kind of like a joke, but he realized that she was unlikely to think it was very funny. "Yes, hello Marcia, this is Dr. Minsky. I'm at Michael's apartment. I just wanted to check in, see if you had any questions, see if everything was alright."

On the one hand it was good to hear from the professor, to know that he was checking up on her, making sure she was okay. But, she was a little out of breath right now. After her masturbation she was a little sweaty and had decided she better take a shower. She figured a guy's body starts to smell sticky pretty darned quickly.

After the shower, while toweling off, she decided that maybe she should do a little exercising. After all, she wanted to return the body in good shape and, well, besides, she wanted to see it work out. She wanted to see how strong and virile it was. Plus, it was kind of fun watching a boy exercise in the nude, so she was working out in front of her mirror. The professor had called while she was doing some push ups, giggling at how his penis kept hitting the rug.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I was just exercising."

The professor spoke to Michael, his eyes trying to focus on his eyes, trying to keep from staring at Marcia's tits. "She's exercising," he explained.

Michael was impressed. That was nice of her. He did work out on a regular basis and was rather pleased about what shape he was in. "Hey, tell her she can come over. I've got some dead weights she can use." But, as soon as he said that, he regretted it. He first wanted some alone time with this body.

The professor spoke on the phone. "He says that you can come over, if you want, as he has some weights, if you want to exercise here."

Marcia thought that might not be a bad idea, and it was nice of him to invite her over, but, she still didn't know if she was ready to see herself yet, like that. Talk about an out-of-body experience! Plus, she wasn't too sure that she was entirely yet done with this body, and she certainly didn't want to exercise in the nude in front of Michael. That might seem kind of strange. It wouldn't be like he hadn't seen himself naked before, but she imagined that he didn't exercise naked and much of her fun in exercising was the fact that she was naked, at times with a stiffie. "No, no, that's fine. I'm okay here, but, um, you know, there is one thing."

"Sure, sure," the professor responded. "Anything."

"Well, I don't really have all the right clothes for him. I mean, I have this flannel shirt of my father's. It might fit pretty good, but I don't have any boy slacks or jeans, or anything. Can you bring over some of his?"

The professor turned to Michael. "She wants some of your clothes."

Michael was surprised they hadn't thought about that before. After all, they had bought a ton of clothes for her body. Why hadn't they figured that she would need any for his body. That was a bit self-centered of them. "Oh yeah, sure. I'll get some." He dashed off to his bedroom to grab some of his clothes.

The professor spoke again to Marcia. "He's going to get some and, well, um, Marcia, while he's gone, there is one thing I want to ask."

"Yea, sure professor," she responded, wondering what it might be, not thinking that it could be good, given that he wanted to ask in private.

It was a rather difficult question for the professor to ask. He had never asked a girl about such a thing before, but he knew that he had to get it out before Michael came back, so he just plunged forward. "Are you, well, we need to know, are you, um, having your, you know," his voice went real soft, "your period."

"Professor! No! My goodness!"

The professor was relieved to hear that, and he knew Michael would be relieved as well. Although, that did mean five bucks down the drain. He wondered if he could return the tampons. He might as well, along with the panties that didn't fit.

"What size panties do you wear?"

"Professor!" She wasn't quite used to having professors ask her questions like that. Still, she knew that it was probably a necessary question. She had not in fact provided all of the measurements and sizes he had wanted earlier and if he was going to buy her panties, he might as well buy the right size. "Twenty-two waist, size two," she replied. Thank goodness this was at least over the phone. Her face reddened as she provided the details, but Michael's penis twitched and swelled. She noted to herself that just talking about panties apparently made it excited. But, it couldn't really have a mind of its own, could it?

Excellent, he thought, not sure if it was excellent because he could now bring half of the panties back or excellent because it was the more petite size. "And, well, brassiere? The saleswoman suggested 34B?"

This seemed to Marcia to be going much too far. Now she knew she didn't want to come over, with Michael knowing her brassiere and panty sizes. Talk about a rather awkward first date! It wouldn't, of course, be a date, but it would sure as heck be a very awkward evening. She shuddered to be thinking that it might even be considered a date. "Yes, yes, 34B, that's right."

"Wow," the professor intoned. "She was right." He hadn't given much credit before to Wallmart sales personnel. He was impressed. He would have to nominate her as salesperson of the month.

Michael had returned with some clothes for Marcia, all bundled up in his hands. He strode into the kitchen, his arms clutching a large pile of clothes against his chest, and still seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was entirely naked, he dropped them all onto the kitchen table. The professor's eyes followed the sight of her naked swinging bottom, and then once the clothes were deposited, they tracked the wiggling of her tits as Michael made his way over to the drawer in which he kept large plastic garbage bags.

"Yes, well, is that it, professor?"

The sound of Marcia's voice in his ear as he was admiring her naked bum jarred him back to attention. "Um, let's see," he wondered aloud, as Marcia's body bent over from the waist as Michael pulled open the bottom drawer. Her bottom rose up higher and higher, and her butt crack began to split open, like a ripening flower, spreading open its petals for him to slip inside and taste her nectar.

His eyes opened wide at the sight of the girl's so delectably cute little rosebud, peeking up at him from down in that little fanny valley, and beneath her curly, puckered little anus, Marcia's dewy feminine slit rose up as well.

"Professor? Professor?" It was Marcia's voice again.

"Um, no, no, that's it....Um, I'll be right over with Michael's clothes. See you in a bit," and he hung up the phone, his eyes glued to Marcia's dewy slit.

He wondered how far Michael would really go in not caring about Marcia's body but, of course, it might also be difficult to get around that it was in fact Michael, a boy, in that body. If he were to actually have sex with "him," he would have to go all the way in the ruse, and pretend she was in fact Marcia. Yea, that would work. That could work real well.

But, he lacked the nerve to suggest it, or he had sufficient ethical resolve to resist the temptation. At some level he did realize that he really had to control himself. Imagine failing to resolve this problem, failing to win the Noble Prize, simply because he wanted to have sex with a coed's body. Boy, that would be quite the example of poor judgment biting you deep in the ass. Some persons fall from great levels because they failed to keep their zipper up, and he was not about to be one of them.

Michael pulled from the drawer a large black garbage bag, strolled back to the kitchen table, and proceeded to stuff all the clothes inside.

The professor did at least admire and enjoy the sight of Marcia's body working away at all the boy's clothes. It was like the professor was invisible, inside of a girl's apartment, watching her fill a charity bag of clothes, a girl who apparently never wore clothes herself while she was in her apartment. He had heard of such a thing, but until now he had never witnessed it.

When Michael was done he pulled the draw string on the bag, handed it over to the professor and said, "Here, this'll probably be enough."

"Yea, thanks," the professor replied, and followed Michael to the front door, his eyes trained on Marcia's cute little derriere. Coeds have such sweet bottoms. He had admired many in his classes, longing to see one naked. He even contemplated going to a local "gentleman's" club. There must be a lot of coeds working there. But, he knew it was too risky to be seen there by one his students. Yet, here was one now, and it was ever so much as pretty and darling as he had imagined. He wished he didn't have to leave. He was actually feeling rather jealous of Michael, and he wondered if perhaps, once he fixed the problem, whether there was some way he could even, possibly, create a girl for his own. He knew he couldn't actually create a girl, but there had to be some way he could get this to work to his favor. Yet, of course, first on the list was to get these two back into their own bodies. He shouldn't lose sight of that.

Michael opened the door for the professor, standing in a manner that did not seem to appreciate that anyone outside his apartment, anyone who happened to be walking by, would see this young, pretty naked girl standing there. "So long, doc," Michael said.

The professor, with considerable reluctance, extricated himself from the apartment, got back into his car, adjusted his erection, and then pulled away to make his way over to Marcia's place, having forgotten to retrieve the panties to return to Walmart.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marcia greeted the professor at the door, wearing a towel around his waist. The youth today was clearly much more liberal about nudity, although at least she was wearing a towel.

Marcia furrowed her brow in confusion as she saw the large garbage bag. Is this how boys pack their clothes? Or, was this really some sort of garbage? He couldn't be providing me with his dirty laundry, could he? How much nerve does this guy have?

She reached for the bag, keeping the door only half open, making it clear to the professor that he wasn't being invited in. She felt kind of funny with him, being almost naked and everything. She even instinctively covered her chest with her left arm as she opened the door, as if she still was a girl, hiding her exposed breasts. It was the natural reaction of a girl. Plus, after having told the professor her brassiere and panty sizes, she wasn't so sure she wanted any extensive conversation with the man. What might he now ask in person? "Okay, great, that's great, professor. That's very helpful," she said, letting go of the door and stepping out a little to grab the bag with her right hand, keeping her chest hidden with her left.

The professor could tell that she was feeling a little uncomfortable, a little apprehensive, about his presence. It was perhaps only natural, although a bit odd, at least for him. Michael comfortably showed him his naked girl's body, but Marcia was quite uncomfortable showing him her naked boy's body. It might take awhile for them to get used to being in another person's body. In any case, he didn't really want to get into any extensive conversation with Marcia. He knew his face would turn red if she asked him about how it was going with Michael in her body. There was really no way he wanted to get into that. Plus, he was concerned that she would identify additional glitches and problems for him to solve, when he really needed to get back to his lab to work on the computer systems. "No problem, no problem. Very glad to help. Now, you just give me a call, if anything comes up."

Marcia avoided eye contact, feeling more and more uncomfortable being so naked and exposed in front of this older man, a college professor no less. She might be in a man's body, but she still felt like a girl wearing only a towel. "Sure, thanks, okay then, bye bye."

He felt a little guilty, a little apprehensive leaving her like this. After all, it was his fault she was in the wrong body. But, it was quite apparent that she wanted to be alone as much as he didn't really want to speak to her any longer. "Well, right then, alright, take care. See you tomorrow."

"Yes sir," she replied, and shut and locked the door.

As soon as the door was closed she dragged the heavy bag across her carpeted living room floor to her couch, and pulled it open.

It was packed with clothes. She could tell that some of the clothes had been folded, at least originally. It was at least not a bag of dirty laundry. He had packed for her a pair of jeans, two pairs of slacks, and four shirts, plus socks, white and black and, at the bottom, even a pair of sneakers. That was thoughtful. Plus, she smiled when she saw the underwear. Two boxers and one pair of briefs. Apparently he did wear boxers. She was glad to see the boxers. They had to be more comfortable, didn't they? Plus, they looked more appealing, more masculine. One was striped in two different shades of blue, the other was all grey. She checked the briefs and boxers further. They were all clean, thank goodness. Well, apparently he was a boy who took good care of his things. Up to a point. She really didn't care for his packing. Still, it wouldn't take her long to iron them.

She didn't mind wearing his used clothes. They should after all fit well, and they were fresh and clean. Well, maybe she should go ahead and give them another wash. No harm in that.

But, what would she wear to go to the laundry room? She certainly couldn't put on the clothes she had been wearing earlier. Well, she would have to put on at least one of these outfits, temporarily.

She reached for a pair of boxers, but then hesitated. Maybe she could at least try the briefs. It would only be as long as it took to do the laundry. She dropped her towel from her waist, and briefly paused to admire again the sight of the boy's naked penis. It looked rather cute in its relaxed state: like a little baby all asleep, tucked away in its comforter. But, the longer she admired it, the more it began to stir. She pulled on the briefs.

'Cool, they have this little flap here you can use to stick the penis out.' She reached through the flap and pulled out Michael's penis. 'That's so cool!' She couldn't help but think that boys sure have it easy. They can just pull it out and point it in any direction they want. She tried pointing it in various directions. 'It's like they have their own built in little squirt gun,' she thought. She kind of wished he needed to pee right now. She wanted to see what that would be like, peeing standing up.

But, first things first and, besides, he was getting harder and harder as she continued to play with him. It would probably be pretty difficult to aim it when its hard, at least aim it into her toilet. Wouldn't it be ironic for her to be responsible for a guy missing the target in her bathroom.

She slipped his penis back into his briefs, put on a pair of jeans, and a shirt (the buttons were awkward to do, being in the wrong direction), put on the socks and sneakers, and went to her bedroom to get a load of quarters and her keys. She picked up his clothes she had worn earlier and tossed them into her laundry basket along with a few things of her own (might as well kill two birds with one stone), grabbed her laundry goods and headed out the door for the laundry room.

The laundry room was on the other side of her building. Fortunately, it wasn't too crowded. As she begin to load a machine with his things, as well as some of her own, she noticed a girl looking at her funny.

When they caught each other's eyes, the girl spoke up. "Mike, what are you doing over here? Why aren't you using your own laundry room?"

A wave of anxiety flooded Marcia. This woman knew Michael! She even apparently knew where he lived, which might even be somewhere in this same complex? She cursed herself for declining to get his address from the professor. Frankly, it shouldn't really be too surprising. Her complex was quite large, and it was the most popular set of apartments for more senior Livingston students. "Oh, yes, yes, um, yes....I, um, they were all full, and so I came here. I need to get some things washed, for tonight."

The girl looked a little skeptical. She never perceived Mike as being especially fastidious. She became even more curious when she noticed a few feminine articles of clothing within his basket, including even a couple of pairs of panties. They were not anything especially delicate or provocative, just a couple of white cotton panties with little colorful flowers, but they were panties nevertheless. She smiled quizzically at Michael. "Helping out your sister?"

Marcia could feel her face go red, and her panic rose. What if she knew him real well? What if Michael was dating this girl? Did Michael have a girlfriend? Did he have a sister? Perhaps the professor was right, perhaps they should have gotten together to trade notes, to make a plan. "Yes, right, right. No! No, these aren't my sister's." She felt it was best not to make something up, as it could very well be wrong.

The girl could see that Mike was a bit embarrassed at getting caught washing some girl's panties. Frankly, though, she found it rather cute, and perhaps that is what explained his presence on the other side of the complex. Apparently Mike had a girlfriend. Well, he was apparently more popular than she had thought. He had always seemed rather shy to her. She couldn't really imagine him with a girlfriend. Still, it was a girlfriend having him wash her panties. "Well, whose ever they are, they're very cute." She stifled a giggle.

"Do you think so? They're kind of plain but I do like the little bow on the front of this one," Marcia said, holding it up so that the girl could see, and then instantly threw them roughly into the machine. 'Marcia, you idiot!' she screamed to herself. Her response was just a reflexive, instinctual, reaction she would make to another girl who complimented an article of her clothing, momentarily forgetting that she wasn't Marcia, she was Michael. Michael certainly wouldn't have reacted that way. Her face grew redder.

The girl was rather surprised by Mike's remark. He at first seemed quite embarrassed, but now he was actually showing off the panties, even complimenting them. "Um, yeah, the bow is very cute, Michael," she responded, her voice sounding almost sarcastic. She turned away, feeling a little awkward about his delight in these panties. Maybe there were lots of things she didn't know about this guy.

Marcia turned as well to her own laundry. That did not go well. She would have to keep reminding herself that she was a boy, that she was this guy Michael.

When a bit of time passed she realized that she was safe, and probably hadn't done much damage. It was at least fortunate that this girl was not dating Michael. Goodness, how awkward would it have been if this girl had been his girlfriend? In fact, though, Michael could indeed have a girlfriend, perhaps even living at this complex. Or, at least, other persons at the complex might also know him. Time seemed to pass very slowly as she anxiously and impatiently waited for the machine to wash their clothes, and even after they were done she would still have to dry them.