This story is based on a weird dream I had at my lowest point during the first covid lockdown. It is entirely a work of fiction, no offence is intended. The last part involves a scene of SA that may affect some readers.
Feeling my orgasm fast approaching, I reach up to the remote control attached to the shower wall and press the button to switch the waterproof thrusting sex toy, currently pounding my tight pussy, to the vinegar strokes setting. The toy responds, switching to shorter, faster thrusts, my gasps and moans echoing around the walls of the large cubicle as my body starts to quiver in pleasure. As my orgasm hits, I press another button, the toy switching again to single deep thrusts that mimic a man’s movements as he fills a girl with his seed. I scream loudly as I cum in time with the toy, the waves of pleasure spreading from my pussy and out all over my body. I claw the wall as I gasp and pant, my knees weakening as I cry out in pure bliss. Finally coming down from the intense pleasure, I switch the toy off, making the lifelike silicone dildo withdraw from my soaking wet, well fucked hole, the machine automatically storing it next to its twin, the one that usually goes in my ass but tonight, as I was going out with my work colleagues, I didn’t want the hassle cleaning up the mess that anal sex creates. I lean against the wall as the last quivers of bliss travel through me and, regaining my breath, I wash my body under the warm water of the shower, my sensitive clit sending further shivers through me (something I still wasn’t quite used to yet) as I rub the soapy sponge over it.
I finish up, rinsing my body and switching off the shower. As I exit, I gently rub my fingers along the dildo’s shaft and thank it for an amazing time (a silly ritual of mine), I grab a towel and wrap it around my body, taking a moment to admire myself in the bathroom’s long mirror before tying it and hiding my curves from view.
Slipping on my slippers, I walk into my large bedroom and sit at my dressing table, picking up my hairdryer and staring into the mirror as I start to dry my bright orange locks, my mind wanders back to 6 years ago and the events that changed my life forever...
Before I get into that though, I suppose I’d better introduce myself. I’m Charlotte (Hello!), Charley to my friends and in just over a month’s time I’ll be celebrating what is technically my 31st birthday, or at least to everyone else it is. In reality its actually my sixth. Now, I know what you’re thinking... how can she be 31 and 6 at the same time? Well I’ll tell you, it starts with a man... a man who initially wasn’t very happy about becoming me. This is how it all began...
The man’s name was Leon (I will be talking about him in the past tense because effectively... he’s dead), at the time of the incident he was celebrating his 45th birthday, the first birthday he’d actually bothered going out to celebrate in 5 years. Leon was a quiet man, considered himself not too handsome (in fact if you asked him, he’d say he was ugly as fuck), overweight and eyes so bad he couldn’t see clearly more than 2 inches from his face without his glasses. To say he was unlucky in love would be an understatement, his rejection count was well into three figures and he’d only had 3 relationships that you could consider long term (6 months, 18 months and 4 and a half years). He had a daughter from his longest relationship, Mae, who had just turned 17 and if you’re wondering about her mother, she buggered off back to her home town 200 miles away with the plan to demand custody when she didn’t have to deal with all the early growing up stuff, as you can probably guess, her plan failed and Mae wanted nothing to do with her.
To cap it all off, he had a shitty job in a supermarket, low paid, overworked and underappreciated. Now, you’re probably thinking he was a sad, unfulfilled man but he was weirdly content in his life, just happy to watch his daughter grow into a beautiful, ambitious young woman and to do everything he could to make her happy.
It was during his birthday celebrations that his life would go completely tits up. A little tipsy, he decided to go for a cigarette and, whilst he was enjoying the nicotine and other junk filling his lungs, he felt a sharp pain in his backside, looking down he saw a man in a bloodied lab coat collapsed on the floor and a now empty syringe sticking out of his own ass. Reaching down, he pulled out the syringe and stared at it, then promptly collapsed on the street. That was Leon’s last memory...
(Now, to me and events just after the change....)
I wake up, it’s dark and I’m in a hospital bed in a private room, an almost clichéd rain pattering at the window and making my need to pee all the more urgent. I clamber out of bed, very groggily and unsteadily staggering to the rooms bathroom (too groggy to notice anything different about myself) where I unceremoniously drop onto the toilet seat. Having relieved myself, I reach down to shake the last drops away, frowning as I can’t find my penis with my hand, eventually just deciding to wiggle my ass instead to get rid of the drops. I stagger back to the bed, and just collapse on it on my front, too out of it to move what I thought was the bed’s pillow from under my chest and passing out.
I awake again, it’s daytime and I’m safely tucked back into bed, a nurse sat in the seat next to it looking up and smiling.
“you’re awake, dear” she says in a thick but sultry Irish accent “I’ll go get the doctor...”
As she leaves the room, I hold my head, still feeling a bit groggy. I shake it, trying to clear the remaining cobwebs, I notice what I think was bright orange hair swing back and forth past my face. I shake my head again and am surprised to see it again, so I reach up and grasp the hair, bringing it in front of my eye to examine. “what the hell...?” I think to myself “I never used to be ginger...” I let go of the hair and shake my head again “I must be dreaming...” this time noticing a strange feeling of something heavy wobbling on my chest, looking down I see two large lumps, like breasts, pushing out the chest area of my hospital gown. “what the...?” I wiggle my chest, watching as the lumps wobble and becoming very confused. A thought strikes me “the guys have played a trick on me...” I think to myself “they’ve obviously glued a wig and fake breasts to me when I passed out and now I’m in hospital because they couldn’t get them off!” chuckling a little I start prodding and pressing my “breasts” with my fingers “they’re very realistic....” I think, cupping them and lifting them slightly, testing the weight “very realistic indeed...” That’s when I realise something very strange, I could feel my fingertips through the breasts...
I pull the top of my gown out a bit, peering down at them “they look.... real” letting go, I start to run my hands over them properly “I can feel every touch...” my fingers brush the nipples and I let out an involuntary gasp as I feel a shock of something I can only describe as pleasure run through me. “What the actual fuck?” I say aloud, testing it again and getting a similar sensation. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?” my mind races, confusion making my heart pound. “Ok, let’s calm down and think about this...” I have an idea... my dick! Reach down and find my dick, then I’ll know it’s just a dream or some silly joke! I do.... finding nothing except... vaginal lips. “whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” my mind races again. “I have a labia?? Something very fucking weird is going on here! Wait... the mirror!” I think “look in the full length mirror! That’ll tell you what’s what.”
Getting out of the bed, I make my way to the full length mirror, only to have what can be best described as a “Quantum Leap” moment, the figure facing me is not me at all... it’s a 20 something year old redheaded woman with an obviously curvy figure beneath the gown that was staring back at me. “I’m dreaming...” I pinch my arm. “oww! I’ve got to be dreaming....” I pinch my other arm. “ouch! I’ve got to be....” another pinch. “oh shit! I’m... I’m not...” for some reason I pinch one of the breasts that I didn’t believe were mine. “shit! This is... this is real?! How in the fuck have i become a woman??” A spark of anger bursts to life within me, the more I stare at my reflection, the hotter it grows.
The room’s door opens, in walks a doctor and the nurse from before, followed by two very flustered looking men in expensive suits.
“Please, get back into bed” the doctor says gesturing towards it “you’ll be better off sat down for what we’re about to tell you.”
I turn to face them, the look on my face making them back away. “The fuck I will...” I state firmly, arms folded under my breasts, my eyes daring them to challenge me. “not until one of you fuckers tells me what the fuck is going on.”
“As you will know by now...” the doctor begins “you’ve been through quite the change...”
“quite the change?!” I look at him in disbelief “quite the change?! It’s a bit more than quite!” Seemingly unable to think rationally I reach up, undoing the bow by the back of my neck and tugging the garment from my body, leaving me completely naked in front of them. “Care to explain this?” I say angrily, waving my hand down myself. “Well?!”
One of the men in the expensive suits speaks up, doing his best to keep his eyes from wandering over my naked form. “You’ve been an unwilling participant in an experiment involving a sex swap inducing transfer RNA compound, designed to allow people with gender dysphoria to physically change sexes...” the man starts to say.
“Speak English, Dipshit!” I spit, glaring at the man in his poncey suit. “do I look like Steven fucking Hawking?”
“You’ve been inadvertently turned into a woman by a compound we created to turn males into females.”
“Riiiiiiight.” I say sarcastically. “Thank you, Sherlock. Now how about changing me back?”
“We, er... we can’t at present.”
“What do you mean ‘can’t’? Don’t you have one for turning women into men?”
He looks down, embarrassed. “No, we don’t. The one injected into you was developed in secret by the scientist who died next to you that night.”
I pause... something else is different... “since when the hell was I Irish?!” I yell, my voice flowing with the same thick, sultry accent as the nurse.
“That’s Psychosomatic” the other well dressed man replies “you’ve taken on the accent of the first voice you heard...”
“Great!” Throwing my hands in the air in annoyance. “So, some asshole decides to use me as a lab rat without asking, turns me into a woman, which is the last thing I want and to cap it all off you can’t even turn me back! How female am I? What joys do I get to look forward to? Periods? Pregnancy? Menopause? Unwanted sexual advances? All of the above??”
At this point, the doctor interjects, looking up from a clipboard as he and the nurse check me over physically. “All of it, you are now biologically female... completely.”
“Completely?“
”As far as nature is concerned, you were born female. You will get periods, get pregnant, give birth, breastfeed, everything a biological woman can do.”
“Is it permanent?”
The first man replies “We believe we can reverse it, we’ve taken samples of your blood and have extracted a limited amount of the compound you were injected with. Even without Dr. Eversham’s notes we think we can do it.” The look on his face says otherwise, but I take him at his word for now.
“Dr. Eversham? The asshole who thought he could use me as a lab rat, was that his name?”
“Yes.”
“Okay... I think I’ve got my head around this. So I was a man, but now I’m a woman. Very biologically a woman... originally you couldn’t but now you can change me back... fine... how long ‘til then?” I demand.
“We’ve analysed the transfer RNA, we can synthesise a compound to change you back using a DNA sample from your former self but we need to know the identities of the donors used for your new DNA and that’s where our current problem lies, they were only in Dr. Eversham’s head.”
“You guys work fast, don’t you? I only changed last night.”
“No...” the doctor says, his face solemn. “the incident was a week ago.”
“I’ve been out of it for a week? Just perfect!” I grow angrier by the minute, the more I find out, the more pissed off I get.
“The change itself took 12 hours, and... it was very painful from what we all saw. Its taken this long for your body and mind to recover.”
“We all? Who else witnessed it?”
“Myself,” the doctor says. “the nurse, your parents and... your daughter”
I look at the doctor with burning eyes, my anger boiling hotter inside me. “You let her watch?”
“We tried to remove her but she wouldn’t go, gave one of the orderlies a bloody nose and a broken shin.”
I chuckle, “Way to go, Mae!” I turn to face the suited men. “how did all this come about in the first place?”
The second suit begins to speak. “Sorry, what should we call you for now? We can’t really use your male name. Is it Leona? Leeanne?”
“Call me... Charlotte. If I had been born a girl I’d have been called Charlotte... Charley for short.” The speed at which I choose my new name sending a shiver down my spine, my mind praying that I’m not accepting this situation already.
“Well, Charley, I’m Mr Knight...” Suit 2 says, pointing at himself, and this...” he gestures to Suit 1. “is Mr. Bridge. We run a pharmaceutical company called...”
“Knightsbridge” I interrupt. “I’ve heard of it.”
“we were approached by the Government a few years ago now, they offered to fund our research into finding a way to allow the Transgender community to realise their dream of becoming the other sex, to actually be able to change permanently into who they need to be ...”
“They had one stipulation,” Mr. Bridge takes up the narrative. “it had to be reversible, just in case...”
“Makes sense.” I state with a harsh look.
“We’ve cracked swapping from the original sex to the opposite one, until now, just with mice. The issue is... swapping back...” Mr Bridge continues.
“Until now... so I’m your first human experiment?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The thing is, we were given strict instructions that no human testing would occur until we could confidently change the altered mice back safely.”
“So how did I happen?” I look at them incredulously. “Do I have mouse DNA in me?!”
“No, you’re 100% Human. Dr. Eversham decided to progress with a compound for humans on his own. We had no idea until this incident.”
“So... how close are you with the mice?”
“Nearly there...” Mr. Knight looks strangely uncomfortable saying that. “we’ve had a few issues...”
“let me guess... mice go boom?” I ask, sarcastically.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” He admits “but we’re close.”
“So what happens to me in the meantime?”
Mr Bridge answers that for me. “We’ll take you to our institute, take regular blood samples to check stability and for testing when the time comes. You’ll have your own room, access to full leisure facilities, choose your own meals, anything you need just ask.”
“Anything?”
“Yes, anything. Clothes, books, anything. Even ‘entertainment’.”
“Right...” a chill runs down my spine at the creepy way he says ‘entertainment’.
“what about Visitation rights and, er... what’s the story going to be for my absence until the old me returns?”
“Your immediate family will be able to visit at any time but I’m afraid you won’t be able to go outside for a while and leaving the grounds is off the table.”
“Fine by me. Shouldn’t take you long to fix this.”
“As for the former you, as far as everyone is concerned he’s in a coma from the substance he was injected with.”
“How convenient. “ the sarcasm literally dripping from my now Irish voice. “I hate hospitals. When do we leave?”
“Just as soon as you’re dressed.” Mr. Knight replies, gesturing towards the nurse who nods and retrieves some clothes from a small closet. “We had someone take you’re measurements whilst you were unconscious. Hope you don’t mind.”
I scoff. “Yet another violation of my personal rights to add to the list. Do i get some privacy?” Which is a strange question really, when you take into account I’m currently buck naked in front of them.
“We’ll wait outside until you’re ready.” The doctor says, leading the two men out of the room and leaving the nurse to provide any assistance I might need. I look down at the garments on the bed, a blouse, lacy bra and panties, short pleated skirt, knee length socks and short boots. The panties are easy enough to put on, the bra, on the other hand, is a little trickier. I try to figure out how to hook it closed behind my back when I can’t see what I’m doing, of course, makes me fumble a few times but I get there in the end. Fully dressed, I look at my new frame in the mirror. I laugh aloud, I look like a schoolgirl. “I bet that was ol’ Mr creepy’s idea.” I think to myself. An evil thought pops into my mind and I unbutton the blouse about half way, exposing a good portion of my bulging breasts in their lacy new home. “Let’s tease him a little...” Strutting with a confidence I don’t really feel, I walk out of the room and straight past the three men, beckoning with my finger. “C’mon Boys,” I say, particularly to Mr Bridge, teasing him as much as possible whilst I can. “Be nice to me and I’ll let you stare at my gorgeous tits.”
The doctor leaves us with a relieved look on his face as we exit the hospital, the men leading me to a large black SUV with blacked out windows. Mr. Bridge opening the door for me and gesturing for me to get in. As I do I swear I can feel his eyes on my ass, a feeling of revulsion passing through me despite my desire to tease. I sit in the middle of the back seat, the men either side of me. Mr. Knight smiles warmly at me as he fastens his seatbelt, then proceeds to look out of the window like he’s embarrassed by looking at my new form. Mr Bridge, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to fasten my seatbelt for me, taking a good look at my cleavage as he does.
“Like what you see?” I ask loudly, laughing internally as he baulks with embarrassment. “You know, I couldn’t stop you if you wanted a good feel whilst I’m stuck in here with you.” I wiggle my chest, purposefully tempting him just for the hell of it.
“For God’s sake Michael, stop it.” Mr Knight says irritably as Mr Bridge clips in his own seatbelt. “We’re in enough trouble as it is.”
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it, mate.” I think to myself as the car pulls off and heads towards the city center. As we travel, Mr Knight explains the finer details and I keep my focus on him, all the while feeling Mr Bridge’s gaze on my body, my male orientated brain burning with the urge to punch him, I barely restrain myself.
We arrive at the institute, situated opposite the quay on the river, in a former hospital building in the heart of the city. We pass through security and exit the vehicle. Once inside I’m shown to my own private room that’s bigger than most people’s houses, an ensuite bathroom off to one side with both a bath and a separate shower. A queen size bed sits in the center of one wall, a TV and entertainment system on the wall opposite. I’m introduced to my personal nurse, Sally, who’ll be responsible for taking blood samples and collecting me for appointments with the therapist and to attend weekly meetings on their progress with my case. The two men leave with the promise of a tour of the facility once I’ve settled in and I’m finally left alone. Firstly, I look in the wardrobe, half the clothes extremely conservative, the other half insanely slutty, seemingly chosen by the two CEOs with how different in attitude they were.
“I think it’s time I had a good look at this body.” I say to myself, stripping off and standing in front of the full length mirror next to the wardrobe. I turn, examining it from every angle, noticing that the only hair other than my orange mane and eyebrows, is the thick bush of pubic hair above my pussy. No leg hair, armpit hair, anything. Looking at my pubic thatch, I immediately decide that I need to trim it and head to the bathroom where I find the necessary equipment to turn it into a tidy landing strip. My task completed, I return to the mirror, admiring the curvaceous form I’m temporarily inhabiting, my curvy peach ass, the firm, large breasts (36D), the perfectly flat stomach and my perfect waist (24 inches with 34 inch hips, JFYI). I chuckle a little to myself, thinking about how wild I could drive men with this body if I ventured out of the institute. “Pity I’ll never get the chance before I’m back to my old self.” I say to myself.
I run my fingers over my perfectly smooth skin, not a bump or blemish anywhere, my hand travelling down over my ass cheek and I give it a playful slap, noticing a quiver of pleasure emanate from my pussy. “So... this version of me likes to be spanked...” I say to myself before smacking my ass a few more times, harder and harder until I have to grip the wall as my knees give way, a strong wave of pleasure spreading through me with each impact. Panting a little and feeling rather horny, I consider my options.
“Time to take this to the next level...” I think to myself, “maybe I can gain some knowledge that can help me in potential romantic pursuits when I’m male again.”
I head to the bed, climbing on and lying on my back, I start to run my fingers gently over my body, starting at my neck and noticing the little sparks of pleasure that run through my nerves. It’s certainly true that a woman’s largest erogenous zone is her skin. As I work my fingers over myself, I discover some curious things, like how women have particularly ticklish spots they also have spots that, if touched the right way, will increase their arousal exponentially. For me this was two spots in particular, one just in the middle of my lower back where the curve of my ass starts, the other a strange area just below my cleavage. I find that by applying a certain amount of pressure and circling my fingers in a certain direction makes my desire leap considerably higher. Eventually, I start to caress my breasts, running my fingers over their firm flesh, sliding them underneath, then round the outside, moving them in decreasing circles and slowly making my way to my hard nipples. I rub my nipples with each finger in turn to see which illicits the best response from my body, the forefinger seemingly the most effective. I try pinching and squeezing them, building my pleasure higher and higher until I’m rolling my hips involuntarily and my clit is aching to be touched. Giving in to temptation I slide my hand down my smooth stomach, teasing the short hairs of my landing strip before sliding my fingers down and over my soaking wet pussy lips. I gradually increase the pressure, feeling myself grow wetter and wetter, slipping my middle fingers into my tight hole I start to finger fuck myself, only going deep enough to just nudge my hymen. I tease my throbbing clit with the fingers of my other hand. My fingers working furiously on my sensitive pussy and clit, it doesn’t take long for my orgasm to hit, intense, rolling waves of bliss spreading out from my pussy over my whole body. I scream loudly, hips bucking and my body quivering as I experience my first orgasm as a woman, the difference between a male orgasm and a female one stark in my mind. I keep rubbing and fingering myself until I can take no more, sagging onto the bed and panting heavily, I raise my fingers to my face and inhale my sweet scent, then lick and suck my juices from them, remembering the familiar taste.
I lay for a while, recovering, staring at the ceiling of my room as my mind processes what just happened, comparing my male experiences with my female one. Feeling an unfamiliar need for closeness I roll onto my side and grab the large pillow from the other side of the bed, pulling it close and cuddling up to it. I lay there, now staring out of the large window at the view of the river, my mind planning further experiments and the equipment I’d need for them (well, why not?).
After about half an hour, I sigh contentedly and stretch my arms, considering whether to get dressed or have another exploration of my new form, the sound of the buzzer on the intercom making my choice for me. I get off the bed, noticing the large wet patch I’ve made on the sheets and walk over to the intercom, pressing the talk button.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Sally, miss...” comes the reply, “Mr Knight and Mr Bridge were wondering if you were ready for your tour?”
“Sure.” I open the door, forgetting that I’m completely naked. Sally looks a little surprised but comes in anyway. “You may wish to get dressed...” she points out and I laugh a little.
“Good idea,” I reply. “might need a quick shower first...” I say as I see Sally notice the wet patch. “would you be kind enough to choose something for me to wear? Something appropriate... from Mr Knight’s ***********ion.” (Just a little test of my suspicions that Sally unwittingly confirms).
“Of course, Miss, He does have good taste.” Sally walks over to the wardrobe as I disappear into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later free of any sticky sweat and the smell of my sex. Sally has chosen a formal dress for me in blue, some sensible underwear and shoes. I thank her and quickly dress, it’s much easier this time as now I have a clue what I’m doing. As we walk to the lobby I quickly request a clothing catalogue and one for more ‘personal’ items from Sally. “Certainly, Miss.” She says, nodding in agreement.
“Call me Charley, Sally, ‘Miss’ is too formal, we should be friends.”
“Yes, Miss... er Charley.”
She leaves me with the gentlemen, Mr Knight smiling at my outfit, Mr Bridge on the other hand looking rather disappointed. The tour is the usual affair, they show me the labs where they’re working on the mice (exploding mice are quite the sickening but also amusing sight.) and I get to meet the team trying to solve my case, already furiously working on a solution. We head to the dining room and have a rather exquisite dinner, the institute’s rules and finer details are explained to me over numerous glasses of expensive wine, until there’s nothing more to tell me. I bid the gentlemen goodnight and head back to my room where Sally has already left the requested catalogues and I spend a few hours choosing various outfits, underwear and adult toys, filling out the necessary request forms before changing into a silk nightie and falling into a restless sleep.
For the sake of expediency and because you can probably guess what a red blooded male mind in a female body would spend most of their time doing, I’ll just give edited highlights of the next six weeks of my new life.
First of all, yes, I explored, masturbated, teased and squeezed my new form, learning a lot more than I could hope to realise. (I know you would like to hear all about it but, honestly, the most exciting thing to happen was me squirting hard enough to hit the TV the first time I used a clit sucking toy. Why won’t I go into that? Simple, there’s more interesting stuff coming up).
Secondly, I got my first period, not a pleasant experience at all. The cramps were so bad I spent three days in a foetal position on the bed crying nonstop, it literally felt like someone had a hold of my insides and was violently twisting and crushing them constantly. Believe me boys, if you ever think a girl is overly complaining about what they go through with it, they really fucking aren’t.
Thirdly, I had regular sessions with the therapist, the main topic of discussion was how my mind was coping with the change and what differences to my personality and desires had manifested themselves. To be honest, not much had changed really, I was doing my best to keep my mind male. There was, however, one thing that concerned me and I was finding it harder to resist. I was starting to find men attractive, more and more I was flicking to the men’s clothing in catalogue and looking at the male models. Now, you may not see anything wrong with that considering my current physical form but I just didn’t want to have become gay when I became male again, that was not my thing at all. It was decided that this would be monitored through my sessions.
Fourthly, I was having very regular visits with my family, especially with Mae who, if she couldn’t physically see me, would call at least three times a day. We’d talk about anything and everything, particularly girl stuff. It was strange really as that was the only time that all this felt natural to me.
Lastly, the weekly progress meetings about my case. Simply put, there was no progress.
Back to the interesting stuff...
As I said before, my growing attraction to men was a main talking point in my sessions with the therapist and what she did next honestly shocked me, but not as much as what happened because of it...
The therapist leans back in her chair, looking at me over her half-moon glasses. “I want to try and experiment,” she says, looking at me straight in the eye. “I want you to read this and tell me what happens at our next session.” She leans forward and puts a magazine on the table between us.
“Playgirl?..” I look at the cover of the magazine, a barely dressed muscular man posing on the front, his manhood hidden under a posing pouch. “why do you want me to read that?”
“Well, you’ve said you’re spending more time looking at male models in swimwear and underwear, I thought we’d try taking it to the next level.”
“You seriously want me to look at pictures of naked men?” I scoff, picking up the magazine and examining the cover. “Seriously?”
“Yes, why not?” She looks at me quizzically. “You are female.”
“Only physically,” I respond, setting the magazine back down. “I’m not planning on becoming a Homosexual.” (though, TBH, I was beginning to question that mentality).
“Humour me,” she says, a strange smile on her face. “it’s just one little magazine.”
“Fine,” I pick up the magazine and flick through the first few pages. “are we done?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable at the request and the thoughts already stirring in my mind. “It’s getting near dinner.”
The therapist chuckles, “I see the change hasn’t dulled your appetite but yes, we’re done for today.”
I smile and bid her a good day, heading to my room and tossing the magazine onto the bed. I head to the wardrobe to choose an outfit for dinner, just for the hell of it, and lay it out on the other side of the bed before climbing on and picking up the magazine. “she really wants me to read this...” I think to myself as I flick through the pages, avoiding the articles and heading straight for the photos. The first set is a very muscular Italian called ‘Mario’, I laugh out loud as he looks just like the famous cartoon plumber, sporting the moustache and rounded nose but with the body of He-man, all oversized muscles and perfectly tanned skin. I’ve never found huge muscles attractive on either men or women, probably thanks to my brother putting a plasticine dick on one of my figures when we were kids, the fact that it was blue plasticine just made it look ridiculous. The first picture had him in a small posing pouch, I guessed that his dick would be about 5-6 inches, pretty average. I turn the page to see a fully nude shot and yep, I was right, his average dick looking silly next to his bulging muscles. I laugh again and flick on, finding the next set, another overly muscled guy with a slightly bigger package, maybe 7 inches, it didn’t stir any desire in me.
I carry on through, turning page after page, “I knew it,” I say to myself, “I knew I wasn’t interested in this sh....”
I stop in my tracks on a page with a stunningly handsome man by the name of ‘Anthony’, muscular but not overly so, you could tell he worked out but wasn’t muscle mad. My eyes wander down the picture, taking in every curve of his frame, the hard pecks, the perfectly formed abs right down to his cock, a nine incher when soft. I bite my lip, feeling a flutter in my chest and a quiver from my pussy. I stare at his member, transfixed with it. I start to imagine it growing hard as I run my hand along it’s length, feeling it swell and grow firmer as I....
I throw the magazine on the bed as I force myself to stop thinking about Anthony and his large cock, not wanting to admit what I’m feeling. “I’m not in to that.” I tell myself firmly as I fight the urge to retrieve the magazine. “I’m NOT in to that.”
I decide to go to dinner, dressing in a simple dress and shoes. I peruse the menu in the dining room but not much takes my fancy, finally deciding on a simple sausage and mash with a glass of red wine. My food arrives, a big lump of mashed potatoes and two large, long sausages smothered in gravy. Again my mind goes back to Anthony, or more particularly a certain part of him as I look at the sausages. I stab one with my fork, slipping the end into my mouth and sucking the gravy from it, again my mind wanders, in my mind’s eye I’m kneeling in front of Anthony and he’s smiling as I take his cockhead into my mouth, sliding it down his shaft... I realise with a start that I’m almost giving the sausage a blowjob in the packed dinner room! Feeling embarrassed I quickly eat my food and drink the wine, practically running back to my room feeling a mixture of devastation and unwelcome excitement, the male part of my mind making me feel disgusting and dirty. I decide to take a shower and strip off, heading into the large cubicle and turning on the water. I soap up my hands, rubbing them over my soft skin and firm curves, my mind once again turning to Anthony. I imagine he’s in the shower with me, the hands running over my body are his, teasing my sensitive skin and touching all the right places. I moan aloud and my hand travels towards my pussy, my fingers grazing my outer lips as my mind imagines they’re his fingers. I catch myself as the tips make contact with my aching clit and I slam my fist against the cubicle wall. “damn it, no!” I shout as I push the image from my mind, desperate to keep myself heterosexual (yeah, I know how stupid that sounds when I’m inhabiting a female body). I decide on a bath instead, soon slipping beneath the bubbles into the hot water and relaxing as no images involving Anthony or his member present themselves in my mind. “finally!” I think to myself, relieved to have freed myself from it. After a long soak I pad back into the main room, a towel robe wrapped around my curves. I strut some poses in the full length mirror, starting with some silly ones and moving on to sexy ones, eventually dropping the robe and taking up various positions, lifting my boobs and pouting, bending over and showing my curvy ass, that sort of thing. I run my hands over myself, teasing my breasts, stomach and ass, giving the latter a playful slap or two. I gaze into the mirror as I cup and squeeze my breasts, teasing my nipples and pressing them between my fingers, enjoying the sensations that ripple through me. Then it happens, Anthony appears in the mirror stood directly behind me, the hands caressing me are his, feeling every inch of me and teasing the special areas that drive me wild. Feeling extremely horny I can resist it no longer and allow myself to be sucked into the fantasy, turning to face him and kissing him deeply. My hands explore his firm body, caressing the muscles as his hands caress and tease me. I reach down taking his hardening cock in my hand, feeling it swell and grow, stroking it with hungry urgency. Caught up in my fantasy, I grab a large suction dildo and drop to my knees, planting it firmly on the mirror in front of my face. I lean forward and lick the realistic shaft, over the head and back down to the balls before going back up again, licking all around the head and teasing the slit with the tip of my tongue. I pull back a little, my mind’s eye making me gaze up at him before returning my attention to his throbbing member. I’ve never given a blowjob before, my heart races with nerves as I engulf the head with my mouth, sliding it down the shaft until it hits my throat. I start to suck on it hungrily, bobbing my head along it’s length and swirling my tongue around it, gradually taking more and more of it in my mouth. I take a deep breath and slide it even further into my mouth, the head slipping down my throat, inching deeper and deeper with each movement until it’s fully buried in my throat, my nose touching the cool glass of the mirror. I realise I have no gag reflex and start to deepthroat the dildo with gusto, imagining him gripping my head and throat fucking me hard. My movements becoming more and more furious, I moan happily as I feel the thick, hard shaft filling my throat, loving every sweet inch. I try to speak, my words muffled and stifled as I look up at him and try to tell him to fuck my face like there’s no tomorrow. My clit aching with desire I pull my mouth from the dildo, running to the bed and leaping on as if he’s carried me over and thrown me on it. I grab some toys from the bedside drawer, laying back and using an oral simulator on myself, closing my eyes and dreaming of looking down at him as he eats my pussy out hungrily, I imagine him moaning into my pussy and telling me how sweet I taste as he swirls his tongue inside me and sucks hard on my clit. My first orgasm hits me hard, making me scream, I reach down and hold his head, in my mind he sucks hard on my hole and drinks my juices like a man dying of thirst drinks water.
“Fuck me, you stud!” I scream, quickly slipping the straps on a butterfly shaped vaginal stimulator over up my legs and hips, it has a vibrating button that rests firmly against my clit and a 1 inch pole that slides inside me, keeping it in place (I didn’t use anything bigger because I wasn’t planning on losing my virginity in this form, especially not to a toy). I switch it on, quickly working up the settings to it’s highest speed, imagining Anthony fucking me with his thick, long cock, thrusting deep and hard as I wrap my legs and arms around his body (I used the large, firm pillow from the other side of the bed to simulate his torso.). Rolling my hips and grinding myself against him, my second orgasm builds fast, my cries and screams growing louder and louder as my mind makes him pound my pussy, my body bouncing on the bed with the force, my breasts bouncing wildly as I claw his back and tell him to fuck me harder over and over. In the fantasy he reaches his vinegar strokes, telling me he’s going to cum, I respond by wrapping my legs tighter around his body and telling him to cum inside me, that I need his hot seed to fill me up. I cum again, my body going into full spasm as I imagine him thrusting deeply and pumping me full of his hot, thick cum. I yell out his name as my orgasm crashes over me in huge waves, only starting to subside when I finally find the strength to reach down and switch off the toy, imagining him collapsing on top of me, completely spent. I lay panting and gasping as I come down, giggling girlishly as the fantasy fades away.
As the last twitches pass, reality hits and a familiar voice, full of rage, yells at me in my mind, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?!” it’s Leon’s voice, the words making disgust hit me like a train. I quickly remove the butterfly toy, grab the magazine, oral simulator and pillow, flinging them across the room, I scramble back against the pillow on my side of the bed, pulling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. I sit there rocking back and forth, my mind attempting to process the conflicting emotions flooding my mind. “did I really just fantasise about being fucked by a man?” the question echoing in my head, elation and disgust fighting each other for prominence in my mind. I sit there all night, staring blankly as I try to get my head around it, trying to decide if it was right or wrong.
As requested, I told the therapist about what happened, going into explicit detail when she asks and describing every feeling and sensation, the strange smirk on her face not lost on me. The funny thing is, the initial reaction of disgust afterwards didn’t stop it happening again, in fact it happened three more times, each time the same feeling hitting me afterwards but slightly weaker, before the next progress meeting at the end of the week. It was at that meeting that I was given a disturbing revelation, one that became the catalyst for not only the complete end of Leon and his influence on me but also for one of the biggest mistakes of my new life.
To say I’m rather surprised that the therapist has just told, in great detail, what happened after she gave me a copy of playgirl to the two CEOs would be quite the understatement. I sit, completely gobsmacked that she would blatantly speak of something so personal to me without either asking my permission or even mentioning her intention to do so. The two men listen intently, Mr Knight reacting with interest, Mr Bridge with unbridled, perverted glee.
“I think it’s time we tell her.” She states to the two men, her look stern as if she’s expecting them to challenge her.
“Are you sure?” Mr Bridge says, looking at me, obviously playing the scenario over in his mind and making me recoil with revulsion. “Do you think her fragile little mind can take it?”
“We have to, Michael,” Mr Knight, the voice of reason as always, states bluntly. “She needs to know.”
“What are you talking about?” my heart races as I look between the three faces in front of me. “I need to know what?”
“Well, Charlotte...” Mr Knight begins and I know it’s bad news, people only ever use your full name when it’s bad news. Mr Knight sighs before continuing. “how do I put this... the things is... we’re running out of time.”
I’m completely bemused, “running out of time for what?”
“to change you back.” He replies, looking at me with sorry eyes.
“Wha-, what? How?” I stammer, my mind racing along with my heart.
“To put it simply,” Mr Bridge starts, leaning forward and addressing my chest rather than my face. “since the incident, your DNA has been in a kind of flux, making it more workable. However, over time it has been settling and becoming more stable, eventually it’ll stabilise completely and become unworkable. The chance of changing you back will be lost forever.”
Anger flares inside me, I glare hard at the three of them. “You’re lying...” I slam my fist on the table, all three jumping. “you have got to be fucking lying!”
“I’m afraid we’re not.” Mr Knight replies, looking heartbroken at having to tell me this, “going by the current rate of stabilisation, we estimate we’ve got less than thirty days left.”
The anger still bubbling inside me, I try to act in a calm manner. “thirty days, huh? Guess you guys better get busy then.”
“Why don’t we take her to the labs, show her the effort we’re putting in?” Mr Bridge grins at me as if he’s about to put a petulant girl in her place.
“okay, show me.” I stand, looking at them expectantly and folding my arms under my chest. All three rise, Mr Knight gestures towards the door and offers me his arm, much to Mr Bridge’s annoyance. I take the offered arm and we head to the labs, as we walk he apologises for not telling me sooner.
Inside the labs, the news is confirmed, the lead scientist talks me through everything that’s been happening and reveals that they believe the stabilising of my DNA and the fact that my mind is becoming increasingly more feminine are linked.
“So, as my DNA stabilises I’m becoming more girly?” I ask, realising how sillily I asked that question.
“Exactly,” the scientist replies, just as another of my blood samples explodes, splattering the poor guy who’s working on it with drops of blood and making his shoulders sag at another failure.
“Honestly, Doc, what are my chances?” I ask him, already expecting the worst.
“Very slim, I’m afraid,” he replies solemnly. “it’s not completely hopeless but I’d prepare for the worst.”
We leave the lab and say our goodbyes for now. Back in my room I glare at my reflection in the mirror, cursing the woman staring back at me. I crack open a bottle of whiskey I had asked for ages ago but never started. I grab a glass and pour myself a large measure, downing it in one. “fuck it,” I say aloud. “fuck it, fuck it, FUUUUUUCK IIIIIIIIT!” Another large one goes straight down, followed by another. After finishing the bottle (my metabolism is bonkers high now after the change so the alcohol doesn’t affect me as much but would still get me drunk if i drank enough.) and feeling rather drunk, I decide to strip off completely and take a walk around the institute, waving happily and slurring greetings at anyone I meet, their shock at my nakedness ignored. I sing and dance around the gym, almost fall into the pool by trying to mimic tightrope walking around the edge, steal another bottle of whiskey after breaking most of the glasses in the now closed bar and down half of it before throwing the rest at a nearby wall, laughing at the mess I make, sing badly into the mic for the PA system and various other disruptive behaviours. In the end, they find me lay on a large table in the dining room moving my hips as if I’m being fucked hard and singing “Cock in me for Christmas” to the tune of Chris Rea’s “Driving home for Christmas”. I protest loudly as I’m carried back to my room by two of the guards and put to bed. Acting in a sultry manner I tell one of them I love him, that anytime he needs a piece of ass, just ask and give him an exaggerated wink before passing out.
My behaviour sparks an emergency meeting, it’s decided that my sessions with the therapist will be doubled but I’m now allowed to go out into the grounds of the institute as they suspect my reaction to the news of being, most likely, stuck like this has been exacerbated by cabin fever.
Feeling like a trapped lab rat, I decide it’s time to stage a breakout. It doesn’t take me long to find a spot that’s not covered by cameras or patrolled by the guards and I start to make plans for some unauthorised trips outside the grounds, already unscrewing the bolts holding the chain link fence in place, so that they are two turns from being undone completely. Over the next few weeks I play the good girl, no more booze, keeping up with the fantasies and making sure to tell the therapist every detail, acting nonchalant about the lack of progress in the weekly meetings whilst deep down letting my rage build. I even feign an interest in some of the hunkier guards for good measure (although there are one or two I would actually gladly bounce on if they asked).
The fateful day comes, I’m called to a meeting two days prior to our usual progress meeting. At the table, messers Knight and Bridge are sat one side, the therapist sat next to an empty chair, obviously intended for me, on the other. I sit down, smoothing the skirt of my dress too many times as the nervousness rises in me even though I’m pretty sure I know what they’re about to tell me.
“Charlotte (yup, it’s bad news), thanks for coming. I think you know why we’ve called this meeting...” Mr Knight begins as the therapist rests her hand on mine in a comforting gesture. “I’m afraid to say we’ve run out of time.”
(Now, I just want to say something here to help you understand my upcoming reaction. Although I’ve enjoyed my time as Charlotte it’s not what I wanted for me at all, I didn’t want to stay as her, I just wanted to go back to my old, boring life and have been holding on to that, a tiny sliver of hope that at the Eleventh Hour a miracle would happen. Instead, that last hope has been snatched away, I’m stuck in a body I never wanted. To be honest, I had looked upon this body as just being a temporary home until I returned as my old self. That hope was keeping me sane and now it was gone. My original plan, I will say, was to take the news calmly and then have an anger-filled rampage, to catch them with their pants down so to speak, maybe acting out drunk and nude again or trashing the labs, I hadn’t quite decided. Unfortunately, Mr Bridge is about to butt in and make the decision for me, also making himself the target of my rage. That in itself is a good thing as I felt that taking out my rage on Mr Knight, who had only ever treated me as a person not a thing, would have been very wrong.)
“So, my DNA has stabilised then?” I ask in a vain hope that I had heard him wrong.
“Yes,” he replies sadly. “I’m afraid you’re, er...”
“Stuck like that.” Mr Bridge interrupts, a snide smile on his face. “you’re trapped in a body you never wanted...”
He doesn’t get to finish, the anger in me bursts forth and I clear the table in a single leap, knocking Bridge and his chair to the floor, slashing at his face with my nails and screaming incoherent words. He manages to protect his face with his hands but not before I’ve put three large cuts in his left cheek, his hands not fairing much better. It takes four of the guards to pull me off him and the therapist injects me with a sedative. I’m still spitting insults and fighting to get free when I finally black out.
I come to in bed, restraints on my wrists, Mr Knight is sat in a chair watching me, Mr Bridge leaning against the wall sporting bloodied bandages on his hands and cheek. I glare at him, my burning anger barely contained. “You promised.” I say through gritted teeth.
It’s Mr Knight who responds. “We’re very sorry, Charlotte, we didn’t foresee this happening.”
“I don’t blame you,” I tell Mr Knight. “Just him.”
Mr Bridge huffs and walks out of the room, Mr Knight gets up and looks at me sadly before heading for the door, turning back to me with an apologetic expression on his face. “we’ll leave you to process it.” He leaves the room, Sally removes the restraints and nods a goodbye to me before following the two men.
I get off the bed, rubbing my wrists and walk over to the mirror, glaring at the woman staring back at me. “I hate you,” I spit at my reflection. “I fucking hate you.”
A plan forms in my mind, an evil plan, I’m going to teach this body a lesson, a very hard lesson. (Please remember that I’m not in the right frame of mind at this moment, blind rage is blocking any kind of rational thinking. As far as my mind is concerned, this body is just a suit I’m wearing, not my actual body and therefore, anything that happens to it will have no affect on me. Boy, was I about to find out how wrong I was. )
I check the time, it’ll be dark in an hour, perfect, enough time for me to put my plan into action. I glare at my reflection again, “I hope you’re ready for this, bitch!”
*A warning, this section contains a scene of brutal SA, anyone who is sensitive to that kind of content should skip this part.*
I walk out of the bathroom, freshly showered, throwing my towel in the hamper and walking to the bed where I’ve laid out my outfit, a skimpy crop top and the tiniest pleated leather skirt I could find, no underwear is present or required for my plan. I put them on and head to the dresser, applying make up in a way that basically says “come and get it.” I slip on some slight heels and check my reflection in the mirror, an evil grin on my face. “you’re not going to enjoy this.” I tell my reflection. The time is right, the guards are changing shifts so sneaking out will be easy. I make it outside and to the rigged part of the fence with ease, slipping through the gap and heading quickly down an alleyway towards the city center.
I’m guessing you’re wondering what my plan is to teach this body a lesson? It’s simple, I’m going to find the kind of man that likes to use women in a sexually abusive manner and let him do whatever he wants to this body. (Yeah, I know, stupid plan, but don’t forget I’m not in my right mind at the moment.)
It doesn’t take long to find the right kind of bar with the right kind of clientele, in fact, I find the perfect guy less than a minute after walking in. I sit on a stool at the bar close to him, making sideways glances at him and smiling when our eyes meet. He comes over, offering me a drink which, of course, I accept. We chat a little, he buys me more drinks and I act more drunk than I actually am, doing my best impression of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct (you know the scene I mean) at regular intervals and making it very clear he’s on a promise. After a quick trip to the restroom to top up my perfume and make up, I leave the bar with him, getting in a taxi and allowing him to touch me wherever he wants whilst I pay attention solely to his bulge, stroking it through his jeans.
We enter his third floor flat and start kissing each other hungrily, my hand moving down to unzip his fly and slip inside, wrapping around his semi-hard cock as he squeezes my ass under my skirt. Just as I’m about to pull out his cock, so I can stroke it properly, a loud familiar voice shouts in my head. Leon’s voice.
“YOU’RE DOING THIS WITH A MAN!”
The suddenness of it jolts me, I had been hearing his voice less and less over recent weeks but this time feels so powerful, causing a feeling of revulsion inside me. I try to push the guy away and break the kiss but he’s too strong. I struggle, desperately trying to free myself from him, eventually managing to find the strength to push him back. I slap him across the face. “get the fuck off me!” I yell at him. In response he back hands me, spinning me around and making me hit the left side of my face on the wall, stunning me. He punches me in the stomach and forces me down onto my knees, grabbing a handful of my hair and holding me in place as he pulls his cock from his jeans, shoving it towards my face. I keep my mouth firmly shut, refusing to take it in but he twists his hand on my hair making me yelp in pain and taking the opportunity to shove himself in my mouth. He starts to face fuck me, yanking my head onto his cock and forcing it down my throat. Although I have no gag reflex, I still need to breathe and his swelling cock is blocking my airway. I struggle, pushing against him as he laughs and holds my head firmly against his hairy crotch, muffling my protests. He finally pulls out and I gulp down huge breaths of air before he does it again, choking me with his cock and laughing as I struggle. He does it twice more, the last time holding it until I’m almost passed out. Yanking me to my feet, he pushes me towards the bed, shoving me forward and making me hit my knees on it. I fall, landing bent over the edge of the bed, my skirt falling up my back and leaving me fully exposed. His left hand grabs the back of my neck, forcing me against the bed, unable to escape. I reach back with my left hand, grabbing at my skirt, trying to pull it over my ass but he grabs my wrist, squeezing it hard and making the bones crack. I scream as pain shoots from my wrist up my arm, he lets it drop limply onto the bed and grabs the bottom of my skirt, yanking it hard up my back until it jams against my breasts and presses against my ribs, limiting my ability to breathe. I hear the sound of his belt and jeans being undone, then dropping to the floor. I hear him spit and feel him rub something slimy over my pussy lips. He spits again and I assume he’s using it to lube up the head of his cock. I feel his cockhead nudging my lips apart, forcefully entering my tight hole until it meets my hymen. A shock of realisation hits me, in this body I’m a virgin. At no point in any of my exploration or fantasies did I ever consider popping my cherry as I thought I wouldn’t be in this body for long! I start to beg, pleading with him to stop and let me go but he just leans down close to me, growling. “First time, huh? No wonder you’re skittish...” he laughs evilly. “don’t worry, I’ll make it memorable.”
With that he thrusts inside me hard, ripping through my hymen and burying his cock as deep inside me as this position will allow. I scream in agony, feeling like I’m being split in two as his cock forces my pussy to stretch around his girth. He laughs, not giving me any time to adjust before he starts pounding my pussy hard and deep, each thrust sending a new wave of pain through me. I can feel myself bleeding down there, not that it matters to him as he force fucks me mercilessly, grunting and laughing as I scream and squirm in agony. His hand moves from my neck to my hair, yanking hard on it and forcing my head back, my screams just urging him on.
“Oh yeah, you like it rough don’t you, bitch?” he growls in my ear as his cock punishes my pussy, I scream “no”, begging him to stop but he just carries on, laughing. He yanks my head back by my hair in time to his thrusts, adding a new pain, my pleas and screams falling on deaf ears, tears flowing freely from my eyes. He fucks me like this for what feels like hours, but, in reality is really only a few minutes before pulling out suddenly, the harshness making me scream again, my pussy throbbing with pain. He flips me onto my back, grabbing my throat and pinning me down. He yanks my skirt back down so he can grab the bottom of my top, shoving it up, exposing my breasts and half ripping it in the process. He mauls my breasts, squeezing them hard and slapping them, making me yelp and squeal, digging his fingertips hard into their flesh and bruising them. He Takes my left nipple between his fingers and twists it hard, grinning at the pained cry that escapes my lips. Leaning down and biting my right breast, he draws blood and another pained cry from my lips. He kisses me roughly, I fight back by biting his lip but that just earns me a fist to the jaw, another connects with my mouth, splitting my lip, a third to my already bruised left eye making my vision go starry. The last blow, a shot to the stomach takes the wind and any remaining fight out of me completely, I stare blankly at the ceiling as he grabs each leg in turn, putting them over his shoulders and re-entering me, ramming his cock all the way in, the head bashing my cervix and adding another pain to torment my mind further. He fucks me harder than before, each thrust smacks the head against the inner ring of muscle that protects my womb, the pain from my wrist, eye, jaw and pussy all vying to be the focus of my attention and merging into one constant, throbbing agony as he assaults my body. His thrusts become faster, more urgent, grunting and tightening his hand around my throat, thankfully not enough to strangle me, but close. I realise he’s about to cum and with one final, deep thrust he slams his cockhead into my cervix, trying to force it through, driving yet another spark of pain through my body and I feel the nauseating sensation of his thick, warm semen hitting the walls of my womb. With every spurt there’s another hard thrust and a satisfied grunt or chuckle. As he nears the end of his orgasm my mind turns to the hope that he will roll off and fall asleep so I can escape this hell, but as usual, fate decides to kick me when I’m down. With a final grunt he collapses on top of me and falls asleep, his still hard, thick cock buried in my battered, bruised and freshly creampied hole.