God those people could work miracles.

She was exactly as I described her. She was perfect down to the last feature.

Big brown eyes that seemed almost too large for her face, proud cheekbones and a button nose. Her lips were full and plump and kissable, her skin smooth and tan of tone.

I wasn’t a big guy, not in height or weight or muscle mass, but she was tiny in my clothes. I’d shrunk considerably, down to just a few inches over five feet and with a body that was defined more by the tightness of her frame than anything else.

I found that my hands were shaking a little as I pulled the shirt over my head and shrugged out of my pants. It was hard to look at my reflection as I took in the sight of my naked body.

Strange to say, perhaps, but it wasn’t just about looks to me. Undoubtedly she was beautiful, her stomach flat and lightly defined and her waist small in comparison to her hips. Her breasts were full, bigger than handfuls and capped with small brown nipples that stood out hard in the cool air of the room. Her thighs had a gap between them and the light almost seemed to shine through on her pert and perfect sex. Her ass was tight and full, enough to press out a pair of jeans and make men take notice when she walked past.

She was beautiful, as beautiful as any woman that I’d seen on campus and more beautiful than most. She would do well to draw his eye and make him want her, she was perfect for the plan.

But being her now had clued me into a part of things that I hadn’t really considered before. For the first time, I had to really realize that I was her. That I was going to be her when I stepped out that door. That I could feel her wrapped around me now.

Something in the energy of that, in the rush that came with being a woman and a woman as perfect as this made my heart quicken. Every movement felt so light and easy, everything came to me so natural like it was ingrained into the code that made me who I was.

Beyond the genetics that dictated how my body was framed, how my hair fell. Down to that ineffable substance that no science can put a finger on. The part that no one notices but is present in every one of us, the part that tells us that we’re home when we’re standing in our own body.

But I wasn’t in my own body, I was in hers.

She felt more like me than I ever had. She felt more natural to me than the skin I was born in had ever made me feel. She felt so delicate but strong at the same time, so perfect not just for Charles and not just for the plan but for me as well.

And it was only too hard to shake that feeling.

I clasped a hand against my chest, feeling my heart pounding and watching the shock of the moment spread across my face. It was easy for me to feel that warm soft skin beneath my fingers and feel that it was me, that it always had been.

All the stories I’d read had talked about an adjustment period where you learn to walk and talk and move again. They had spoken of this point where everything clicks and that it takes time to get to that, that you couldn’t just rush out and start being her.

But I felt like I could. I’d gotten up out of bed without thinking, undressed myself without thinking, and now my hands were moving over my body and exploring myself without thinking. All of it was like riding a bike that I’d never known existed.

When my hand brushed against my nipple I felt a gasp and a shock of electric heat run through me. My body tensed in response to the surprising stimulus.

And everything else fell into place just like everything that came before it.

My legs moved backwards and I tumbled into bed. One hand on my breast and the other diving quickly between my thighs. The rational part of me kept on reminding me that I wasn’t doing this just for myself. That I had a timeline and a purpose to tonight and I had to get out there and meet Charles. But the other part of me was too focused on how good it felt to care.

And once my fingers touched my sex, all thoughts of anything other than just living in this moment drifted away. I didn’t know what I was doing but I knew what felt good, and that was enough to guide me forward into a crescendo of pleasure.

As my fingers slipped inside myself and began to pump, as my thumb worked back and forth over my clit at the top of my mound, as my other hand moved from breast to breast grasping in full and then closing on my nipple to pinch it I felt the pleasure rise. I found it harder and harder to breathe as my heart rate quickened until it was pounding in my ears and my breaths came in rasping gasps.

The heat pumping out from between my legs rapidly defined the edges of myself. All of me, from the bottom of my toes up to my eyebrows, was burning like it was built out of light and I was on fire from it. I was burning up and gasping as my body was wracked with spasms of delight and warmth.

“More,” I found myself gasping, “Oh god more.”