Story



Having been rejected yet again, I stepped out the front door to go for a run. My neighborhood has a one mile loop with a nice hill in it. A 100’ climb is generally pretty good for burning off some frustrations. It was a crisp evening; the moon hung low on the horizon. Despite the chill, I wore shorts and a t-shirt. I started up the hill for the first time, and I could feel the tenseness in my chest start to ease as my legs worked harder. They were the strong solid muscle of a runner’s. My chest started to heave as I climbed. My upper body was strong, but not as much as my legs. Despite the amount of running I did, I still carried a bit of a spare tire around the waist.

I was enjoying the starlight as I ran that evening. I was pretty sure footed, and mastered the trick of keeping one eye on the sky, and the other on the dimly lit asphalt. As I rounded on the hill for the 4th time, I was admiring Cassiopeia and saw a shooting star. I was not a superstitious man, but there’s little cost for wishing on a star, or so I thought.

I wished that my wife actually enjoyed having sex with me. This was some of the frustration I was trying to work off. My wife just disliked sex. She would have sex sometimes, if you could call it that. When she did, she just kind of zoned out. Mostly, she just didn’t want to. It had been going on for some time, but getting worse lately. Moreover, it was my dissatisfaction with the situation that had been getting worse. I really didn’t know what I was going to do. I had tried for a long time to convince myself that sex wasn’t important. I had even tried drinking away my frustrations for some time, but that didn’t work out so well. Running may not have been as immediately gratifying, but it was overall better than all the ills that came with alcoholism, but that’s a story for a different time.

I made my wish, and finished up 5 miles. I had been intending to do 6, but had started feeling really exhausted. So, I threw in the towel a lap early, which was very unlike me. Usually, as tired as I got, I was able to finish up the distance I planned on, but this feeling just hit me like a wall.

I thought perhaps I was coming down with something. I came inside. The kids were both asleep. I walked through the bedroom on the way to the master bath to shower up. My wife was laying in bed half asleep watching TV. The blue light of the TV flickered on her face as I walked through, but we made a point of not making eye contact. I was so angry. I felt trapped. I loved her. I did, but I was frustrated. Many nights I lay awake wondering if I could really spend the rest of my life never making love again, but could I really leave my wife over something so trivial as sex?

The old joke crossed my mind, “Sex is like air; it’s no big deal unless you aren’t getting any.” She seemed to get along fine without any. I don’t mean to say that she didn’t like sex often. She never liked sex. Even when she would have sex with me, I guess because she thought that this was what a wife should do, it was awkward and disconnected. She was just staring at the ceiling, staring into space. I told myself it was better than nothing, but in many ways it was probably worse than nothing. But I did love her, and I wanted to make sure I tried everything I could before I gave up on her. Even then, I didn’t know if I could do that for something so . . . But on the other hand, my needs weren’t being met. What’s the point of being in a relationship if your wife doesn’t want to touch you?

I shut the bathroom door behind me, and headed for the shower. I really felt wiped out from that run, which was more so than usual. I actually felt a little lightheaded and weak. I turned the hot water on full blast to let it warm up. I was still frustrated from our encounter earlier. I started going over the exchange in my head as I pulled off my clothes. Part of me knew there was no reason to mull over it all again, but I just felt stuck. I couldn’t quite sort out my feelings.

We were cuddled on the couch watching some TV and relaxing. I was sitting there with my beautiful wife in my arms, and I got aroused. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. I wrapped my arm further around her waist, reached up, slipped it under her bra, and started caressing her breast. She rolled her eyes at me, and removed my hand. I didn’t really understand why this bothered her so much. I was doing it gently and nicely. Don’t people generally like affection? I leaned in, kissed her on the neck ,and nibbled on her ear a little bit. She shrugged me off and said, “Cut it out.”

I tried to let it go, but by then the idea was in my head. The hormones were coursing through my body. I could barely think about doing anything else. I had a huge erection in my pants. She must’ve been able to feel it pressed against her ass cheek even through both layers of fabric. I stood up, took her hand, and put on my best devilish grin.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You,” I replied, with a waggle of the eyebrows.

“Ugh, fiiine,” she said, clearly indicating that she was doing me a huge favor.

She got off the couch, and let me lead her up toward the bedroom. At this point, I’ve started to get a little annoyed at the attitude. Would it be too much to ask to have a wife who wanted to make love to me? Can’t a man and a woman have a nice little romp?

I’m not looking for a porn-worthy fuck fest. Really, I just wanted some intimacy and closeness. I’d really love it if I could please her, and she showed some signs of pleasure. I didn’t think it was me.

I’d tried all I could with her. When I tried to ask her ‘What feels good?’, ‘What feels better?’, or ‘What do you like?’ all I ever got in response was ‘I don’t know.’ How could I ever hope to make her feel good if she didn’t know her own body, or if she was afraid of it?

She let me lead her up the stairs, but practically made me drag her up. She slumped her shoulders, and made stumpy plodding steps as she moved along—a march worthy of a trip to the gallows. My horniness was now being tempered by my frustrations. I tried not to let her drama get to me. If there was going to be any intimacy at all, this was about the best I could expect. Well, probably not much intimacy to be expected, but parts of me were still driving for release.

We reached the bedroom. She pulled free of my hand, and went to lie down in bed fully clothed. I could probably have strip her like she was a child at this point, but my anger had exceeded any expected returns.

“Come on, what’s the matter,” I implored.

“I don’t know,” she replied. My heart skipped a beat, and I abandoned all hope of joy for the evening. It was always the, ”I don’t know.” It was enough to drive a man mad.

“What do you mean, ‘You don’t know?’ We’ve been married for years. This whole situation is declining. Did I do something wrong? Is it that terrible having sex with me?” The exasperation wore thin in my voice.

“It’s not you. I don’t like sex with anyone. It’s not personal.”

“The hell it’s not personal! I’m you’re only husband. It’s a small consolation that you don’t want to have sex with anyone else. I’m the one left feeling rejected. I’m the one left standing here with my dick in my hand while my wife wants nothing to do with me.”

“I just . . . I just don’t know . . .” At this point, my vision blurred for a second as the wave of anger washed over me. I suppressed it and just turned around to exit the room, leaving this person who wanted nothing to do with me behind. It’s at this point that I decided going for a run is about my only option for blowing off some steam.

I brought my mind back to the present moment. I realized the bathroom was full of steam. The water was clearly warm enough now. How long had I been off chasing my thoughts in circles? The run hadn’t alleviated so much frustration after all.

I wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror, checking to see if the stubble needed a shave. I had always like shaving in the shower. Being blonde, I really only shaved every few days anyway. I suspected I was due. I ran my hand over my face as I looked in the mirror. The steam fogged it up just as quickly as I had wiped it off, but my face looked fair, and my fingertips encountered no stubble. A slight wave of fatigue washed over me. I supposed that I had shaved more recently than I remembered. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that my face was smoother than even if I had just shaved, but I didn’t really give it much thought.

Turning back to the shower, I tested the water with my hand real quick, and adjusted the knob to bring the temperature down to barely tolerable. I thought that somehow my hand looked softer than usual. I looked at it closer through the dense steam in the bathroom. It looked different, but still had characteristics of my hand. I dismissed the whole train of thought as silly. I stepped into the hot water, and let it just run over my body. I tried a little harder to dismiss the frustrations as I stood there.

Somehow, the hot water of a shower always helped me to center myself. I took inventory of how I was feeling. My legs were more sore than usual, especially my glutes. I figured it was nothing to worry about, that I just had an off day on the run. I’d just need to watch it a little closer next time. My arms, shoulders, and even my chest were a little achy, and I was more fatigued than I should be. Maybe I was coming down with something. Oh well, nothing I can do about it but rest up no matter what the problem was. There was some unrelieved pressure in my balls from the erection I had earlier that never had been taken care of. That bit of build up was certainly something I could take care of right away. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to.

I reached down and fondled my balls, giving them a little scratch and tug to make sure they were unhindered. Even then with just getting ready, my penis was already becoming engorged. I enjoyed the weight of my testicles, and the feeling building up in my cock. At the same time, I let my thoughts drift to the back of my mind where they engaged thoughts of naked women and sex. There really is something pretty amazing about the female body. It has such an effect on me. I worship it in a way. I pictured the soft, round globes of my wife’s breasts, the curves of her hips and ass, and I had a full hard on.

I wrapped a hand around my firm cock. I loved the female form, but I appreciated my own as well. I began to stroke it as the fantasies played in my head. The buildup became a reality. Cranking one out is fun, but it was hardly any substitute for actual sex. I took little time to savor the feelings, as nice as they may be, and went straight for the finish. I pictured my wife’s vagina and burying my penis into it. In my fantasy, she loved it. And just like that, it was all done with. My body tensed, and my dick pulsed rhythmically while spurting my semen into the shower. There was a certain satisfaction to a quick, concise masturbation.

I enjoyed the rapidly fading afterglow as I let the relaxing feelings fill my body, and finally some of the tensions began to fade. My heart, which had increased its pace for my little bout of exertion, slowed its beat again. I brought my attention back to the appreciation of the warm water. My body was still aching from the run, or maybe whatever I was coming down with, but in a good way. It was the kind of ache that lets you know you’ve done something, that you are actually alive.

I reached for the shampoo up on the shelf, getting back to the main purpose of showering. Somehow, the shelf seemed higher. Man, I was out of it. But as I reached, I noticed again that my hand seemed different still, even more so than before. I took the bottle in one hand, placed a squirt of shampoo in the other, and replaced the bottle. I examined my hands more closely. My skin was definitely smoother and lighter. Didn’t I used to have more hair on my arms, too? It’s not something I paid close attention to on a day to day basis, but my arms definitely seemed smoother and softer. I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I’d check it out later when I was someplace a little more well lit. Nothing to do now but finish getting cleaned up.

I put the shampoo in my hair, and started working it in and kneading my scalp. My hair was wet and heavy, basically sticking to my scalp, but it definitely seemed longer. Hair grows longer all the time, but I rarely ever let it get longer than an inch or two. I’d never been real attentive about getting haircuts, but I generally kept it short and easy to manage. Even as I lathered it up, it seemed to get longer as my hands worked it. A part of me was seriously getting freaked out at this point, but my conscious mind knew better. Hair doesn’t grow that fast. I tried really hard to rationalize that this was just some sort of confusion on my part.

I rinsed my hair out, and slicked it back to get rid of the excess water. My hands continued much further than usual. I had enough hair to draw back into a ponytail, which was more than enough. I let it go, and it fell well past my shoulders onto my back. There was no denying now that my hair was longer.

This must be some kind of fucked up dream. This can’t be real. It certainly didn’t feel like a dream. There was too much detail. It was too mundane—well, apart from my hair—and my arms. I ran one hand up my other arm, and tried to see what was different. The skin was smoother and softer. My muscle definition had definitely decreased. They were still toned and attractive, but in a different way. I was never an overly muscular guy, but there was decidedly less bulk. I was really starting to freak out now. There was no way this was real. What was going on?

I ran my hand up over my shoulder, and noticed the same kind of changes. My skin was softer, there was less bulk to my muscle base, and my shoulders even seemed narrower. Somehow, they actually seemed to be shrinking beneath my fingers. They felt okay apart from the vague achy feeling.

Taking inventory of the rest of my body, my chest was narrower. My waist was much narrower, and even some of the extra flab I had carried there seemed to be disappearing as I touched my stomach. I looked down to my legs, which were practically hairless at this point. They were still the toned, strong legs of a runner, but smoother and shapely almost. I ran my hands down my sides, and over my hips. My hips seemed to be expanding right before my eyes. The ache there which I had previously chalked up to running was worse than anywhere else. It was the same kind of soreness that I associated with recovering from exercise, but more so. It was a feeling of growth, and apparently very rapid growth.

I looked down at myself and took it all in. The changes were happening so slowly that I could barely make out the minor details, but it was fast enough that I could tell that it was happening. It was like watching the minute hand on a clock. I couldn’t see anything actually change directly, but looking, then looking again a few moments later, things were definitely different. My body still looked male, but less so with each passing moment. I was starting to look like a woman—an attractive woman.

My heart hammered in my chest. This cannot be happening. This is not real, I thought to myself as I denied what was happening right before my eyes. As my heart beat faster, the changes seemed to speed up. My ass plumped as my hips widened. I grabbed my cheeks, and they were firm but supple. It was my ass, but it wasn’t. My waist narrowed. I actually had a waist now. There were curves to my figure. The thought flitted across my mind that they would be very sexy if they weren’t me. Above my waist my ribcage narrowed. My chest was now hairless.

My nipples grew in size. The areolas increased to the size of half dollars, and darkened a bit as they did. My nipples stiffened and grew into prominent little nubs just right for sucking on. Moments later, the flesh beneath my nipples began to swell. I knew what was coming. I pressed my hands to my chest as if I could stop it from happening, but they were forced away from the muscle below as they were filled with soft mammary tissue. The supple skin protruded between my fingers as I now held a generous bosom in my hands. I let go, and they had to be at least a C or D cup. I cupped them again in disbelief. I felt the weight of them as I lifted them in my hands, and I felt that weight transfer back to my torso as I released them again. A couple times I performed this exchange just trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. As I did, I noticed how sensitive they were. It actually felt sort of good. I ran my fingers over my new and improved nipples, and actually felt myself become aroused despite the surrealism of the situation.

As I stood playing with my breasts, watching the water cascade down over them, I felt the familiar pressure building in my crotch. I released one breast, and placed a hand on fully erect cock. It felt as hard as it ever had, and I was turned on as ever. But, to look at it I had to look down between my perfect tits, and see my decidedly female hand wrapped around my throbbing member. Just as my eyes landed on it, I could feel it begin to recede. It looked like it was going to go all the way. I spread my legs and leaned over to get the best view that I could. A minute ago my penis was sticking well out of my hand, but now the tip barely protruded past my small feminine fist.

At the same time, I could feel my balls being drawn up into my abdomen. They were dangling free one moment. The next, they were tight against my body, and then squeezing their way inside as a cavity apparently grew beneath my skin. Then, they were in. My now tiny penis was lost in my hand. I couldn’t even really hold on to it anymore. I let go, and the head of my penis was just barely away from my body. Then it wasn’t. My glans met my groin, and pulled in a little bit while a mons grew up around it enveloping it. For a moment it appeared that all I had for genitalia was a slight dimple. Then the head of my penis elongated and drew itself down. A slit appeared where my sack had drawn tight against my body. The slit widened, and secondary folds appeared.

The pressure that I had been feeling, which I associated with arousal, was gone. It was replaced with a feeling of wetness inside almost associated with a kind of longing. Looking down, it appeared that all the changes had stopped. My flat stomach flowed down to a smooth curve to meet with a slight mound that protruded ever so slightly between my legs. I ran my hand down that smooth pathway, marveling at the lack of penis and other equipment that was so recently there. My fingers reached the top of the slit and began searching inside. They slid across the newly formed clitoral hood, and I probed further in finding my clit itself. I had a clit! I had always thought women got the better end of the deal with this particular little pleasure button. I drew back my hood and touched it. A jolt of sensation flew through my body. It was almost too much, and sort of uncomfortable.

I let it be for now as I explored further, and found my vaginal opening. For a brand new vagina, it certainly felt warm and moist. There was little resistance as I slid a finger inside. It felt nice. I pushed against the front wall as I searched around for the g-spot. It felt very nice. Suddenly, the reality of the situation came back to me. What the hell was I doing? I was a man a short while ago when I stepped into the shower, and now I was apparently totally female (and a hot one at that). I was standing there playing with my self.

What the hell was going on? I still felt woozy, and even more fatigued than before. Apparently, having a total body transformation takes a lot out of you. I turned the water off in the shower, and stepped out grabbing the towel from the rack. I covered myself as best I could. I noticed on the floor of the bathroom that the pile of clothes which used to be a shirt, shorts, and boxer briefs included a pair of panties and a sports bra now. I stepped over these not considering the implications of what that might mean. What the hell am I going to do?

I wiped off the mirror, and found a cute female face staring back at me. She looked like me, but she definitely looked female. My eyes were still blue, but somehow they looked a little bigger. My features had softened. I had a cute button nose, and below that big, pouty lips. This was too much. I turned to leave the bathroom.

I pulled open the door leading into the master bedroom. The TV flickered in the otherwise dark room. I saw a man sleeping in my bed right where my wife was before I entered the bathroom. I thought he was good looking and well muscled. I suppressed those thoughts just as soon as they entered my mind. I knew it was her . . . him . . . my wife . . . er, husband? He appeared to be out cold. I’m guessing that was because she was laying down when it happened, and it was a pretty exhausting experience. She fell asleep, and had no idea what had happened. My heart was still pounding hard, but I was exhausted, too. I knew that as soon as the adrenalin from the ordeal wore off that I would crash as well.

What to do? What to do? Indecision kept me rooted in the doorway. Should I wake him? Maybe this is all just a crazy dream or something, and I should just try and go to sleep and let it pass. It sure didn’t feel like a dream. I could let him sleep and deal with it in the morning; if it’s even real. This has to be some kind of bad trip. The best thing I could do was go to sleep. I told myself that everything would be normal when I woke up

There was no way I could just go to sleep. I walked over to his sleeping form, and grasped his upper arm giving him a gentle shake.

“Hey, wake up.” Of course my voice had changed to match the rest of me, but I was still startled by the higher pitch that came out of my mouth.

“Get up, this is too messed up for me to deal with alone. Wake up,” I begged him. I could feel the large muscles in his arm as my hand gently rocked him. I found part of my mind admiring the bicep and tricep, and tried to quash the thought. Another part of my mind was a little jealous that he was better looking than me. Well, better looking than I was before, anyway.

“Cooome oooooonn.” I begged. I rocked him a little harder. His eyes cracked open, and he took a look at me. I could tell his mind was still fogged with sleep—a preoccupation with dreams and exhaustion from the transformation.

“What? Who are you?” he asked. “Ugh” he moaned as his eyes were about to fall shut again.

“Don’t you dare fall back to sleep!” I nearly yelled. “It’s me, your husband! Well, sort of, anyway. It’s me!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Look at yourself!” I exclaimed, already exasperated.

“What the . . .” he began, but this time seemed to notice the change in his voice. It was deeper, that’s for sure. He sounded strong, I thought to myself. A puzzled look came across his face. “What is going on?” I tore back the sheets, and gestured toward the rest of his body.

“Look!” He got up on his elbows, and looked down at himself. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I know he hadn’t gone to sleep in that. He had pecs and well-defined abs. He also had a fair bulge in his shorts.

“Holy shit,” he said in a breathy whisper. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I wasn’t . . . ” he stopped short and looked at me.

“What do you mean, ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,’” I nearly screamed at him in confusion. “Do you know what’s going on? Did you do this!?”

“Magic. . .” he began, but I cut him off.

“Don’t you give me that ‘magic’ bullshit!” I yelled back. “There’s no such thing!” He, formerly she, used to say magic was real, and it could happen if the conditions were right. I had always dismissed it as one of the sillier parts of her personality.

“Do you have a better explanation?” he countered. I opened my mouth to reply, but shut it again. I had no explanation. I had apparently lost that argument. I wrapped my arms around my body, still draped in a damp towel that fell below my breasts. They perked up as I took a defensive stance.

I opened the conversation again and said, “Well, what did you mean by ‘supposed to happen’? DID you do this?”

“I didn’t do anything. What could I have done?” What could he have done indeed? The situation defied all logic, but still I got the sense that he was hiding something; not that I could imagine what that could be.

“What the hell are we going to do about this?” I was on the edge of hysterics. How could I live my life like this? Was I stuck? Tears started to fall from the corners of my eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said as he reached up and pulled me down onto the bed. “You look about as tired as I feel, which is to say, pretty fucking tired.” He pulled me down to lie next to him in bed, and wrapped his strong arms around me. I felt very safe. Usually, I was the calm one—the one who kept the level head.

“We’ll figure this all out in the morning,” he said. Still wrapped in my towel, he pulled the blankets up over us. I could feel his muscular body pressed into my back as he lay there spooning me. It was not long before I was out.

I woke up with the sun shining in through the window with my body still in the same position. The towel was gone. I lay curled up in his arms, and felt his skin against mine. It was as close to my spouse as I had felt in quite a long time. I lay there for quite some time just enjoying the feeling of closeness, trying not to think too hard about the strangeness of the situation. I felt him stir a bit as he woke up. He squeezed me tighter. Soon after, I felt the hardness of his manhood in his boxers pressed against my ass.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I said. I threw back the blankets, and swung them over the side of the bed. The cool air hit me, and I wrapped my arms around my chest trying to protect my now sensitive breasts from the cold. “How can you be horny at a time like this?” I continued as I went over to the dresser, and pulled open the drawer where I usually keep my underwear. It was full of panties and bras. What else should I expect?

“I didn’t mean anything. It just sort of happened. Besides, you tell me the same thing all the time.”

I wasn’t about to deal with wearing a bra for the first time, but figured the panties weren’t so different from my own underwear. Well, I guess they were my own underwear. I selected a pair at random and pulled them on. I looked at how they fit laying flat against my skin, and smooth over my crotch. Turning my head, I checked out my ass in the mirror. I really had it going on. I guess I couldn’t blame him for getting an erection. It’s not something I could ever control. I knew if I was looking at a girl like me, I’d get a hard on. I picked up one of the bras long enough to check the label. D cup. Fantastic!

“I know. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just freaked out. Sex is the last thing on my mind right now; and besides, I’m just not attracted to men.” I looked at him lying on the bed with no covers. The tent he was pitching in the front of his boxers was huge. He must have a giant cock under there. I caught myself gaping, and I think he did too because when I looked back at his face, I saw a devilish grin and knowing eyes. I turned back to the dresser, and went for the drawer with the casual wear.

I pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Maybe they were those things they call yoga pants. They were a bit tighter on my legs than I wanted, but it would have to do for now. I picked up my wallet and work badge from the dresser. I pulled out my license, and there was a picture of me with all my stats updated. I guess I was legal to drive, at least. I examined my work badge: same company, same department, and new picture. I guess I had the same job. I guessed as well that if I went to work like this, nobody would notice anything amiss. Luckily, today was still Sunday, and I wouldn’t have to confront that particular little scenario yet. I looked over my shoulder, and caught him leering at me. I scowled at him.

“What?” he asked, playing innocent as if he hadn’t been male for just over 9 hours, like he wasn’t just whining at the concept of sex. Those tables turned quickly. How is he not as freaked out as I am?

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself,” I said. “Jesus Christ!” I stalked into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind me. I noticed the way my tits swayed as I slammed the door, and felt the fabric of my t-shirt rub against my nipples. Looking down I could clearly see them poking through the thin fabric. They were so sensitive. I was going to have to re-think this no bra policy, maybe.

Looking in the mirror, I saw my hair was disheveled from sleeping. It was yesterday when I woke up, too, but then it was short enough not to matter. Now I looked like a hobo. I picked up the brush and ran it through my hair, pulling out the snarls that I picked up from going to bed with wet, long hair, and never even combing it out. Where did that thought come from? Nonetheless, there was something cathartic about brushing it out. After I had it fixed up, it was blonde, and about shoulder length with a bit of a curl to it. I pulled it back in a ponytail, and tied it off to keep it as manageable as possible.

I felt a familiar kind of pressure in my bladder, and eyed the toilet. I thought about how I would have to sit to pee. I started crying then. It’s funny how the smallest things are the ones that get you.

Would I always have to do that? Am I stuck like this forever? I don’t want to be a girl!

I choked back the couple of sobs almost as quickly as they came on. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I sure as fuck wasn’t going to be a blubbering, useless mess over it. I pulled down my pants and took a seat. Overall, it wasn’t all that different than before other than the sitting down part. I guess the one difference was that whichever reflex muscle made me a shy pisser when I thought about it too much wasn’t there anymore. Funny how a guy could have a shy bladder all alone just by thinking too much. I gave myself a quick wipe—a reflex action that I had never actually developed—flushed, and was done.

Now what? I thought to myself. I guessed that all I could do for the moment was try and get on with life. It was Sunday morning so. . . waffles. Then, I guess, spend some time trying to figure out what the hell had happened one step at a time.

I walked out of the bathroom, and heard a familiar kind of rhythmic shuffling sound before I actually saw it. But, see it I did. He was laying there on the bed, boxers gone, working on cranking one out. His head had been tilted back, but he looked up as he heard the door open and saw me standing there. I stood rooted to the spot not having any idea what to feel. It was a simple act I had performed many a time, but actually watching some other guy do it, my husband doing it, left me feeling very confused. I guess. I must have had a look of pure shock on my face. Just about as soon as he looked at me, he let out a low moan, almost a grunt, and bucked his hips forward as thick ropes of cum shot from his massive cock.

“Oh my god.” I heard him say, mostly to himself. “I had no idea. I never . . . holy fucking shit that was amazing!” Part of me felt a wave of revulsion for watching a man finish loving himself, but another part of me was turned on as well. That man was sexy. I tried pushing those thoughts down further. I told myself that I was not attracted to men.

“Is that so much better than a female orgasm? I had always been under the impression that girls had it better in that particular department, not that before today I had the opportunity to ask anyone in a position to know” He let out a few deep breaths clearly reveling in the afterglow of his little wank.

“I . . . “ he looked me in the eye, a wondrous expression plastered on his face, wonder which turned into almost a hint of shame as he failed to continue his sentence.

“You never. . . you never figured out . . . you’ve never had any kind of orgasm before, have you?” I asked, coming to a realization.

“I thought maybe I had before but . . . no. I guess I haven’t. Not if it’s anything like this,” he replied. “This is just incredible.”

“Just wait until you actually have sex.” I said, but immediately regretted my words. That made it sound an awful lot like I was making an offer; one which I definitely did not want to fulfill.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, looking at me suggestively. I might have been less upset about it if I hadn’t been rejected so many times. The amount of hurt that built up from each rejection each time he, formerly she, refused or made the whole proposition of sex insufferable, was too much for me to just let go. Now the tables were turned. He wanted to get his rocks off, and just expected me to spread ‘em. I was so angry.

But, isn’t this what I wanted? Just last night I wished on that star that my then wife, now husband, actually enjoyed having sex with me. If she never knew how to have an orgasm before this morning, I guess she would have had trouble enjoying it. Maybe I should lighten up and give him a chance. I am looking for a connection. No, what the hell was I saying?, Not like this! I’m not supposed to be the woman in this situation. Wait, the wish. That couldn’t have anything to do with this. That’s just a fairy tale. Fairy tale or not, it was as good as an explanation as any right now. Was there some way to go back? Did I just have to wait for another shooting star?

“Clean yourself up. I’m going to go get breakfast going.” I descended the steps utterly confused about my feelings. What did I want? Each step down the stairs brought a little more jiggle than I was used to. God, this is so fucked up.

I set about making breakfast. I turned on the waffle iron to let it heat up while I gathered the ingredients: milk, eggs, butter. I heard him coming down the steps as I raided the fridge. I went to the pantry to fetch the flour, but the canister was on the top shelf. Yesterday I could reach it just fine. Now my fingers just brushed the canister while I stood on my toes and reached. Damn that was annoying. I cursed under my breath. Just as I thought I managed to get enough of a finger hold on it to pull it back from the edge. He came up behind me and reached it easily. With his arm over my shoulder, I could feel his hard body behind me. I sank back to my heels and turned around. He wrapped his arms around me, and I wrapped mine around him. I had to look up at him. He was even taller than I was before. I was now married to a hunk. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he held me close. I was aware of my breasts pressed up against him. It felt nice. His free hand drifted down to my ass and made a playful squeeze, also nice. I felt very safe and comfortable in his arms. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I became aware of his stiffening member pressing up against my belly. For a moment, I was actually pretty turned on. Then, I remembered how hurt I was, and how unfair this situation was. All at once, I realized where this train of thought was going, and I suppressed it down again. I told myself once more that I was not attracted to men. I told myself, but now I was thinking that wasn’t really true.

I was attracted to him, physically anyway, but that didn’t make up for what a bitch he’d been to me. I couldn’t just do it now when just last night he was acting like touching me was the worst thing in the world.

“Look,” he began. He must have seen the troubled look on my face. “I’m sorry for the friction that’s been between us sexually as of late. I’m sorry that I rejected you so much, but I just wasn’t enjoying myself physically, not like this. But we’re still married, and we’re still the same people. Let’s just try and enjoy ourselves. This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“How do you know this is once in a lifetime?” I wanted my old life back.

“I mean I don’t know, but suppose it is? Don’t you want to see what it’s like from the other point of view?” I took the flour from his hands and headed back to the mixing bowl. I thought about it as I started combining ingredients, and whipping up the batter. What would it be like? He certainly was a good looking guy, but really he’s the same person as the woman I married, so it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Still. . .

“I don’t know. I just want this whole thing to be over with.”

“You know in stories, usually when things like this happen, the person has to learn about how other people see the world before they can go back to normal. They have to learn a lesson.” he argued. Did he believe that, or was he just trying to get in my pants? It did sound like the kooky magic stuff that she used to spout off about all the time.

“Don’t give me that magic karma bullshit.” I replied.

“You have any better ideas?” he asked as he walked up behind me, and put his hands around my waist as I stirred the batter.

“Well, no.” I admitted.

“Besides, it might be fun.” he said encouragingly. His right hand slid up my torso and caressed my breast. I felt both nipples harden at his touch. It did feel good, but I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going. I grabbed his hand, and pulled it away from my chest.

A million thoughts raced through my mind. I love this person. I am not attracted to men. I married this person. I kinda am attracted to him. I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a good fucking. I am kind of curious how it feels to have sex as a woman. Can I have multiple orgasms? There’ll be a penis in me. Will it hurt?

“I. . . I’m. . . I’m scared.” I laid the truth out there.

“I’ll be gentle.” he said. He scooped me up in his arms like I didn’t weigh a thing, and carried me up to the bedroom. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and was very aware of the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he carried me up the steps. I practically swooned. He tossed me on the bed with no effort. I bounced a couple times as I landed, and giggled a little as I felt the motion of my breasts. I was aware of the feminine shape of my body as I lay there for a moment with my eyes closed enjoying the anticipated closeness. I tried to let the fear go. When I opened them again a moment later, he was already naked. His huge member was erect and pointed in my direction. Before I could make a move to start undressing myself, he grabbed the waistband of my pants and panties together, and whisked them both off in a single, quick motion. My ass was lifted into the air, and I bounced back down on the bed again. I pulled my t-shirt off over my head, and felt the fabric run across my stiff nipples. The fabric lifted my breasts a bit as it passed, and they swayed generously once they were free.

I sat there on my bare ass propped up on my elbows looking down at myself. My ample breasts hung from my chest with my erect nipples pointing back at him. They were large and soft, but still perky. If I still had a cock, it would be hard from looking at me. Thinking of which, I shifted my focus downward. I spread my legs, and saw the smooth line my stomach to my crotch without any of the more familiar equipment. It was just a soft curl of pubic hair which hid my vagina beneath. I tried to focus on the sensations my body was giving me. It wasn’t the urgent feel of a hard on with the pressure of orgasm building behind it. It was more of a feeling of warmth and wetness; a feeling of invitation. It felt like I could start dripping at any moment. I was about to reach down and appreciate my new pussy in a more hands on manner to become more familiar with what I was working with. But before I could make a move, he climbed on the bed, and in between my legs.

He kissed my neck, and nibbled on my ear. I sank back from my elbows to laying flat on my back. I closed my eyes, and let out a soft moan as he kissed me. I could feel his penis rubbed against my mons. He shifted himself around. I felt his head probing around my lips looking for the right angle. I guess he found it, and as moist as my pussy was, it took little pressure to move forward. I felt his penis finding the opening to my new vagina and press forward. There was a slight tearing sensation followed by a really sharp pain. I let out a soft cry. The thought floated through my head that he just popped my cherry. At the same time, I could feel his cock push all the way inside me while his body pressed up against mine. This had gone from kind of scary and kind of fun to just plain painful in one quick moment. I could barely feel anything except the pain. I bit it back, and just tried to let it pass.

I felt the quick rhythmic pumps of his body against mine. The pain lessened a little, but not a whole heck of a lot. I could almost feel some pleasure buried in those sensations somewhere, but not quite. I just squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to block it all out.

And just like that, it was over. He stopped thrusting, and I felt him stiffen. He grunted, then relaxed. He rolled over onto his back breathing hard; hard for what seemed to me to be a minimum of work.

“That was incredible,” he said between breaths. “That was the most amazing thing ever.” He lay on his back with his arms behind his head looking at the ceiling. His eyes drifted shut. I curled up in the fetal position and lay there. That was terrible. I felt so empty, so. . . used. And, hurt.

I lay there for a long time just thinking. In a way, I got what I wanted. My wife, now husband, had sex with me, wanted to have sex with me, and enjoyed it. I certainly didn’t enjoy it this time. I guess part of it was the pain of the first time, and part of it was that I really didn’t know just what I wanted out of it like this. But, the missing part was really any kind of connection. He was certainly an active participant, but I still didn’t get the sense that he was present. I decided that I wasn’t going to let one bad experience ruin the rest of my life, or my love life for that matter. Was this really going to be the rest of my life? I wasn’t going to lose control of what I wanted just because this one try didn’t turn out right.

I went to the bathroom, and cleaned myself up. This brought a sense of surrealism more so than anything else that had happened in the past day, but I did my best to take it all in stride.

He was fast asleep when I finished up. I got dressed, and decided to go ahead and include the bra. The only choice I had was to embrace the life I was living. I figured I might as well go with it. I got it on with a minimum of fumbling, if not actual grace. It certainly did perk up my tits, not that they needed it a whole lot. Now they touched and actually showed cleavage. I was sexy. I mean, I was a stone cold fox.

I finished getting dressed in the former yoga pants and t-shirt. It still looked great, if casual. I shouldn’t think like this, or else I’d give myself a fat ego. I had spent quite some time appreciating the female form, might as well appreciate the blessings of this situation. I went downstairs and finished cooking up the waffles.

After I finished eating, he was still fast asleep. I walked quietly through the bedroom to my nightstand, and pulled the bottom drawer open. Before, I had bought my then wife a vibrator in the hopes of generating some more arousal, but she hadn’t like it. She was scared of it, more so than my regular equipment, but I knew that women, at least some, enjoyed sex. I was going to make sure I was one of them. I went to the spare bedroom, and made myself comfortable on the bed.

I slid my pants and panties off, spread my legs, and crouched over looking down, really looking at what I had going on down there. I was a little sore, but the pain was mostly gone. I had a light covering of blonde pubic hair. Maybe I would give it a shave later. I used to think that was attractive. I pulled my labia majora apart, and got a look at my clitoris and labia minora and let go again. My inner lips were just big enough to peak out. It was a cute little vulva. I leaned back, and licked a finger for a little initial lubrication. I spread my legs, and ran a finger down to my clit. I closed my eyes, and focused on the sensation. When I touched it directly, I found it to be really sensitive, too sensitive, uncomfortable even. So, I backed off a little, up slightly. I stroked along the side of my clitoral hood. At first, it didn’t feel like much. I let my thoughts slip to the back of my mind to latch on to the ideas that turned me on.

It took me a moment at first because I had no idea what actually turned me on. I tried to think of my husband’s hot body, but that only got me part of the way. I thought of his pecs and abs, and this started to get the feeling seated. I tried thinking of him drilling me, but that didn’t really seem to take. I probed around my mind more searching for what it wanted, for what I wanted. I thought more of togetherness and connection. This seemed to get real purchase. I thought of him, dead sexy, taking me gently. Kissing. Compassionate. Loving. I took a moment to reflect on how this was different than before, less carnal, more emotion. Just a short moment, because this really was starting to get more interesting.

Once I got the juices flowing, figuratively as well as literally, I let my thoughts run free and go where they wanted. I slid my finger lower, and tested direct contact with my clitoris again. This time when I found my love button it was just as sensitive, but it felt amazing. My hips bucked forward almost involuntarily. This was so much more intense than when I was a man. Maybe being like this wouldn’t be so bad.

I continued to rub and buck. It was amazing. My pussy was dripping wet. I felt a familiar kind of tension building. I latched on to the feeling, and bit my lip. Each buck of my hips built the sensation. It went quickly past anything I had felt before. I reached climax, but it was so different than cumming as a guy. The sensation was much deeper. There was no ejaculation to go with the release, just wave after wave of pleasure. No, it wouldn’t be bad to stay like this; not bad at all.

I lay there with my hand on my crotch basking in the afterglow. Aren’t women supposed to be able to have multiple orgasms? That was a theory I was about to test. I found the vibrator, fired it up, and started to rub it on my vagina. I ran it through the folds of my pussy lips and across my clit. Each pass across my clit brought a surge of pleasure, but I wanted something different from this. I lowered it down, and slid it inside myself. The juices of my wet snatch let it slide in effortlessly. I slid it in and out rhythmically. This simple action had a mild pleasure to it, but nothing like stimulating my clit. I probed it differently as I fucked myself. I found if I pushed toward the front wall of my vagina, it gave me the slight sensation of needing to pee, but it started to feel really good there. I cranked up the vibrator, and put the pressure on. The pleasure started to build even more quickly than before. I thrust and thrust, and let out a guttural moan, completely forgetting my intentions of keeping quiet. This orgasm seemed to spread through my whole body. Every fiber of my being seemed to tingle as the orgasm tore through me. I apparently had squirted a little, too. I’d have to decide how I felt about that later.

I picked my head up off the pillow with the heavy lidded post-orgasm haze on my face, and saw him standing in the doorway as naked as I had left him. He had a devilish grin on his face as he approached the bed; not to mention, a raging hard on.

“You’re quite the tiger aren’t you.” he said as he approached. He moved like he was going to climb between my legs. Did I really want to have sex with him? He was more enthusiastic last time, but hardly gave any consideration for me at all; really not so different from before.

“Eat me.” I said, adding a devilish grin of my own. He paused mid-stride, and I could see the gears working in his head as a look of dismay crossed his face. I couldn’t blame him. It’s not like I would relish the thought of sucking him off.

“Only if you suck my cock first.” he tried to preempt me. I wondered if he would actually do it if I went first, probably not. He was going to have to give a little before he got.

“No, you got your kicks in last time. If you do a good job, I’ll think about returning the favor.” I could see him doing the mental tit for tat fuck math in his head, and having been in his position, I was pretty confident his hormones would cloud out most reason and logic.

I spread my legs as he climbed on the bed, and buried his head in my crotch. I put a hand on his head as he started to lick my folds. I sat back and enjoyed the contact. There’s always something special about someone else touching you; a sense of anticipation and excitement that you just can’t generate on your own. I felt his tongue work my box as I closed my eyes, and focused on the sensations. He darted to and fro. For someone who had a vagina for most of his life, he sure seemed inept. Every once in a while he seemed to find the right spots. I tried to guide him some with my hands, and moaned appreciably when it felt good. Eventually, he found my clit.

“Oh god, yes! Right there!” He seemed to get the message, and started working my clit with his tongue; a series of quick flicks interspersed with a quick suck. He wasn’t too bad at this after all.

“Oh fuck yeah! Oh fuck yesss!” I moaned as he went to town on my love button. Electric shocks of pleasure shot up through my body. I tried not to buck my hips too much, or grind my wet mound into his face, but I really wanted to. He slid his hands under my ass cheeks, and took a firm grip. This simple gesture put me over the edge, and the waves of pleasure washed over me as I came hard.

After I regained control of myself, I found him lying next to me. He looked pleased in a way that did not look familiar to me. He looked pleased at having given me pleasure. Once he saw me looking at him though, he shifted his eyes purposefully toward his own pleasure center.

After seeing that look on his face of being happy about bringing me pleasure, I didn’t much mind the idea of reciprocating. He lay on his back, and I got down between his legs. I took his firm cock in my hands, and started to stroke it lightly. Another wave of surrealism washed over me. I had another man’s cock in my hands, and I was about to pop it in my mouth. Moreover, I didn’t have a particular problem with that. I let the feeling pass, and gave his shaft a long lick as I continued to stroke it. This elicited a soft moan from him.

I took him in my mouth, and ran my tongue around his head in a circle, making sure to get the edges. I took him in as far as I could go, and shifted my hand to gently cradle his balls. I felt his hands nestle into my hair as I worked his member. There was a slight tang to the pre-cum which touched my tongue. He pushed down with his hands, and I tried to take as much in my mouth as I could. Relaxing my throat as best as I could, I let his penis slide down. The gag reflex was there, but I surprised myself by keeping control over it as more slid in than I would have thought possible. I wrapped my lips around the base of his member where it met his body in a forest of pubic hair, and began to back off again. I continued to work the entire length of his shaft with my mouth. It wasn’t long before I felt his body begin to tense in anticipation. I pulled back, and worked the head of his cock with my tongue and lips. Moments later, his dick began to pulse as load after load of cum shot into my mouth. I pulled his penis out and swallowed what was left in my mouth.

I wanted his penis in me, deeper than my mouth. I pulled off my shirt and bra, letting my large breasts free. They swayed back and forth as I slowly crawled up the length of his prone body. My tits brushed his penis on the way by. He was starting to go flaccid. But as soon as they touched his cock, he started to get hard all over again. My nipples tickled his body as my breasts swayed while I moved upward. I put a leg on either side of his stomach, and pressed my bosom into his face. He reached up and cupped a breast in each hand as he sucked and caressed them. It felt good. My pussy was sopping wet, and aching for more as he played.

I could feel his hard member pressed between my vulva and his stomach. I rolled my hips, and felt his member moving across my plump lips. I raised myself up, reached a hand down, and took a hold of his cock. I rubbed his head across my clit and through my folds, delaying my own gratification and his, but I couldn’t hold out very long. I angled his member toward my opening, and lowered myself down on him. He slid inside of me easily. It kept pushing deeper inside of me as I lowered myself. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to take it all.

Finally, I was all the way down. I felt full, very full, and it was amazing. I rocked my hips a little getting a feel for it. He was buried impossibly deep inside of me. It almost hurt a little, but it was okay. I had control over the penetration. I found that if I leaned forward just a little, and grabbed the headboard, I could rub my clit against his hard body, and to his benefit, it put my perky breasts right in his face. I pumped my hips back and forth, up and down. The feeling of him filling me up combined with stimulation of my clit against his body was incredible. He began to thrust his penis up into me as I rode him. I rode him hard, and I intended to get everything I could out of him.

I started to moan as the combined sensations overwhelmed me. I didn’t care how loud I was. There was no room to be self-conscious. He had one breast in his mouth while the other bounced free as I moved up and down. My clit rubbed against his firm stomach at the base of his cock, and his manhood filled me up. I thrust in again and again, and hit all the right places. It was more than I could take. All of my previous orgasms combined paled in comparison to what I was feeling right then. I felt his cock stiffen further, if that was possible, and pulse rhythmically as he filled me full of cum. I orgasmed at the same time. I screamed in pleasure. I couldn’t see straight as bolts of pleasure shocked my whole body.

We collapsed in each others arms panting. I rolled on my side, and he wrapped his arms around me holding me tight.

“I saw a shooting star while you were out running.” he whispered. “I wished that you could know how it felt to be me. I never knew it would turn out like this.” I smiled at his admission. We drifted off to sleep.

I woke in the morning with my arms wrapped around my wife. I was a little disappointed to find that we had become our old selves. Was it all a dream?

“Hey wake up.” I rocked her gently in my arms. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked me in the eye.

“Eat me.” she said. I smiled, maybe not quite our old selves after all.

Fin