I flinched as I felt his old hand on my skin, and this seemed to excite him as he moaned lustfully and began to rub my belly back and forth. "Ooh, such a soft smooth tummy...oooh...look at this..." he mumbled.After a moment he stopped rubbing my belly and grinned at me, "Okay Louise, let's go upstairs and I'll show you the room." He took my hand and led me upstairs. We came to a closed door which he opened and showed me in. It was evidently a spare bedroom; old furniture of a 70s style. He grinned, "You can get changed into your bikini in here, my dear," he said touching my bare belly again, "And then we can get down to business with that tummy of yours." He pinched my belly and I flinched, letting out a short yelp. Mervin walked out of the room, "When you have your bikini on, come to that room there," he pointed at another closed door. I shut the door and looked around the old room, I was aroused yet still anxious -he clearly had a belly-fetish, he never even touched my breasts. I picked up the large manilla envelope. Something inside it made itthick and bulky. I opened the flap, which had been sealed with adhesivecellophane tape.My heart skipped a beat, and my knees went weak.I gulped, staring at the envelope's contents.Inside were wads of cash, each secured by thick rubber bands. I rifledthrough several packets: every bill was a hundred! There had to bethousands of dollars in the envelope.You could buy a pair in your size, the voice repeated. There's a shop onThird Street called Transformation; they'll have shoes in your size, andpanties and lingerie, too, if you want them.Transformation, right. I'd seen that shop before. I knew what it sold.It was perfect. Of course, I might not need to buy a whole wardrobe ofvarious outfits, not if I was really shrinking down to a woman's size,as I seemed to be. I might need some, though, for the time being. . . .* * *An hour later, I was off the bus and in the library, seated before amicrofiche machine. (I had to have.
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