The rules were whispered to me in my sleep. I have to go twenty-four hours without satisfying a man, only then will I get my real body back.
I just thought it was a dream at first but when I woke up in this body I saw that it was entirely real. Now I’m stuck as her, all beautiful softness and curves. Now I feel everything that she can feel.
I feel her cravings and her needs, far more powerful than I’d ever experienced in my old body. I feel the potency of touch on this new skin of mine. I feel the aching for more.
And when my cocky alpha roommate storms in to find the new feminine version of myself he’s got his own ideas. One look at me and he’s making me promises. One touch, and he’s telling me how much he can give.
It’s wrong but I can’t help myself. My mind is screaming go, but my body is aching to stay.
It’s going to doom me. It’s going to humiliate me. It’s going to mean that I’m stuck for even longer in this soft and feminine body.
But I don’t know if I think that’s bad anymore.
Excerpt
God I didn’t want this, I could swear to that. I didn’t want to be her and I didn’t want to be with him and I could repeat that over and over but it was harder and harder to believe it. I pulled my fingers out of myself and another gasp and another shudder ran over me and my whole body clenched, shaking as I fought against the certainty of my need. A need that was growing.
But this was wrong, it was so goddamn wrong. Even if I wanted to cum again I couldn’t with him. Even if it had to be with a man, god it couldn’t be with Eric.
We were friends but we were rivals as well. He had this illusion that he was my better and no matter which girls I brought home, no matter what records I set in the gym, no matter how well I even did in school that myth persisted for him. He had the ultimate trump card. He had his money and his family name and the fact that when it all came down to it in the end the rules of society would always set him above me, and there was nothing I could do about that.
Even if I had to want to fuck a man, why did it have to be that man? No, this was crazy I didn’t have to fuck a man and I didn’t want to fuck one. Right? No, I was a man myself and I was straight and I wasn’t a woman even though I was and I didn’t want to get fucked even though I did and none of this made any goddamn sense.
And I pulled myself up off the ground and I fell into my bed. I lay down, face down, my head buried in the pillow as I screamed and tried to find some logical answer to any of this when nothing would make any sense because goddammit none of it was logical. None of this happened. None of it.
The dream. The dream came back to me with the field and the fog and the voice. Whoever she was she had clearly done this to me and whatever her reasons, her power was undeniable. As were her instructions to me.
That I was bad. That this was my punishment. That I was going to learn a lesson about women. That she was going to teach me.
But in the craziness of remembering the dream and her words to me, so too came my salvation. Twenty-four hours of abstinence, that was what she’d said. Twenty-four hours and all I have to do is keep away from men. What were her exact words, something about needing to keep away from the ‘seed of a man’s satisfaction,’ right? Well, that was pretty damn clear and that was pretty damn obvious. If I got cum on me then I failed. All I had to do to turn back was go twenty-four hours without touching cum. That should be easy, right?
Except of course that my body felt like it was on fire right now. And that while I’d been working through things in my mind my hands had gone on a journey of their own and were presently playing with me. One hand on my breast, pinching my nipples and making me moan. The other between my thighs already knuckle deep in my sex and pumping faster and faster while my hips moved to meet it.
But this was okay, this was fine. I could cum over and over in this bed and just so long as it was only me here I wouldn’t be in any danger at all. I could and I would play with myself for every last minute of that twenty-four hours, plunging those delicate dancers’ fingers deep into myself and figuring out just how to make every last inch of this new body of mine feel as good as it possibly could. I would moan into this pillow, muffling my voice with it until I was shaking and shuddering and unable to keep going but utterly unable to stop.
I would exhaust myself, and just so long as my bed was empty of anyone else and the door to my bedroom stayed locked then everything would be just fine.
And there was only one problem with that.