Title: A Different Point of View Pt.3 (Giles)
Author: Donna (dlg92000@yahoo.com)
Rating: R
Disclaimer, yada yada, in Pt.1
Feedback: Please
Thanks Kathryn!!
Giles slipped into the Summers house wearily. They had finally called it a night after hours of fruitless searching. At this point, he didn't know if they would ever find a way to reverse the spell. Quietly he crept up the stairs thankful Joyce was used to Buffys odd hours. He didn't want Joyce to wake up and have to try and explain. Everyone agreed to keep this from her. She didn't have to worry that her daughter was now a 46-year-old male in the best drag anyone had ever seen. Her plate was already full to the brim. Slipping into Buffys room he almost let out a blood-curdling scream when he turned and saw himself in the mirror.
"Oh dear Lord!" He clapped a hand over his heart as he gazed at Buffys face. "I have to remember I'm her." Sighing, he turned from the mirror. Looking around her room, he wondered where she kept her pajamas. Suddenly he realized he had a bigger problem than what he was going to wear to bed, as his bladder announced it was full. He moaned. "Oh well, no hope for it. I'll just do it and pretend." After four years, he'd gotten quite good at pretending.
Finding the bathroom, he lifted the toilet seat, unzipped and found, nothing. He almost had a heart attack. Sighing in exasperation at himself, he turned and sat. Clamping his jaw shut to keep from screeching out loud, he jumped up out of the toilet bowl. Grimacing, he dried off his butt, put the seat back down and sat. A look of consternation flitted across his face. "Well, this is certainly different." he muttered, finishing. He barely remembered to wipe before standing, which he did with a huge wad of toilet tissue. Spying the shower as he pulled up his pants, he decided to take a quick shower. Especially since his butt still felt a little, well, damp.
Starting the shower, he quickly stripped and stepped under the warm spray. Belatedly remembering his, or rather Buffys hair, he stepped back out grumbling. Scanning the vanity, he found a clip and bundled up his hair. Stepping back into the shower, he moaned in pleasure, enjoying the novel sensation of the spray hitting him from the neck down. Being short did have its advantages. He reached for a bottle of shower gel and grimaced at its flowery smell. Shrugging, he figuired, he looked like a woman, might as well smell like one. He squirted some in a white puffy ball thing he found hanging from a hook, correctly guessing it's purpose. Marveling at the amount of lather it produced, he decided to get one of his own. He latched onto any mundane thought to keep his mind from off of whose body he was actually washing. Humming, he ran the puffball around his neck and down to his chest.
Stopping in shock as his hands encountered a bump. He groaned, self- control snapping. Feeling like the worst sort of pervert, but not being able to help himself, he lightly traced his fingers across Buffys pert breasts. Gasping both at the sensation and the knowledge that what he was doing was wrong, but after four years of self- denial, he couldn't resist this small pleasure. He moaned as his fingers tweaked his nipples, he couldn't believe how sensitive they were. Slowly he ran his hand down his stomach, marveling at how soft the skin was. Hesitantly his fingers brushed at the silky hair below body quivering. He couldn't believe how turned on he was, he was responding on two levels. One, as himself, actually touching Buffy after all these years. And as Buffys body, reacting to the stimulas of his touch. The results where amazing.
He pulled his hand back before he could find out just how soft and silky she was. If he ever got to touch her, he wanted it with her full and complete agreement and presence. Feeling deeply ashamed, like he violated her, he quickly dragged the puff thing across down there and rinsed off. Even though it was his mind, it was still Buffys body. He had no right. Stepping out of the shower, he quickly dried off, glad the mirrors where fogged. Groaning as he realized he forgot a change of clothes, he wrapped himself in a towel and hurried to her room.
"Hmm, clothes," he opened the closet doors, "Good Lord!" He muttered. "How many clothes does one person need!" Shaking his head at the over abundance revealed. He'd never understand women and their insistence that they never wear the same thing twice! And their obsession with shoes that were more like torture devices with their impossibly high spike heels. Shaking his head again, he closed the closet doors.
He went over to the dresser and had better luck finding something to wear to bed. He pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Throwing them on the bed, he then searched for underwear. The last drawer he opened yielded results. Intimidated by the array of feminine undergarments, he quickly reached in and pulled out a, bra. Grimacing, he tossed it back and pulled out, he looked at it closely. It was three cords attached to a small triangle of silk. he frowned, trying to figure out what it could be used for. Turning it the other way, He gasped as he realized what it was.
"Buffy!" He whispered, almost scandalized. Then became painfully aroused as his vivid imagination placed it on her body. He moaned as he threw the g-string back in. He drew out, well; it had more material to it, not much, but he pulled them on. Then wiggled as he tried to get used to the feel of a thong.
Before he could give into temptation and look in the mirror, he hurriedly slipped on the shorts and t-shirt.
A yawn cracked his jaw as he slid into Buffys bed. Pulling up the covers, he had to smile. They smelled like her.
END