Rings Of Trust: The Test free porn video

The Test By Elliot Reid "It's a test, Mark," said Amy. "A test?" I looked at my girlfriend, eyebrows raised. "What, a compatibility test or something?" "Something like that." Amy was seated on the bed, nude, cocking her head to one side, gauging my reactions. "We've been going out for a year and you said you wanted to take it to the next stage and I guess this is where we test whether that's going to work or not." "This magic will do that?" I looked at the pair of rings lying on the sheets between us. "Brandon believed so." I'd liked Amy's Uncle Brandon, a silver-haired, larger-than-life soul who smoked a pipe, drank fine whiskeys and had a fund of entertaining stories. The funeral last month had been hard on both of us. The old rogue had loved his niece dearly, but had taken a shine to me, the middle-aged commercial artist going to seed, and welcomed me into the family. He'd been good company. One of the last things he said to me, over a glass of pungent Islay malt, was, "You're a good kid, Mark. You're the best thing to happen to Amy. Marry her. Make her a fine husband." It was such an old- fashioned thing to say, but then Brandon had been an old-fashioned guy at heart - the engineer who still insisted on writing his letters in longhand with a fountain pen and eschewed modern conveniences. "So what did Brandon say?" I asked. Amy held her uncle's last letter. It had come in the same envelope as the rings, penned in a precise copperplate hand that showed no sign of trembling or of the tumor that had eaten him away from the inside. "He said before I commit to you we should try the rings first." That was Brandon, looking after Amy. She'd been through a string of rotten relationships that left her hurt and vulnerable until I'd appeared. It was an ongoing healing process but I'd been gentle and patient and Amy had bloomed, exorcising many of her personal demons. Amy looked at the letter. "He says the rings will be a test of our love and our trust. If we get through this and we're still together we should get engaged." The morning light seeping through the curtains caught Amy's mass of dark hair and backlit it, surrounding her with a halo. "So these rings will change us?" I said. "Only physically," agreed Amy. "Brandon said our minds would be unaffected. One of us wears the gold ring, the other the silver. Whoever wears the gold can wish the other's appearance to change." "Wish? Like out loud?" "Maybe, or maybe in your head, it's not clear. Brandon says in his letter that, 'a wish is words; all magic comes from words. A spell is just spelling; a grimoire is a grammar. Words shape our consciousness and so change the fabric of the universe.'" "Do you believe this, Amy? I knew Brandon, he was an aeronautical engineer and a rational guy." Oh yes, Brandon had a mind as logical as a slide rule and sharp as a diamond. "I mean, he was not given to fey whimsy or fantasy. But magic is magic and I find it difficult to believe it until I see it!" "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Amy smiled. She had a lovely smile. Her face was strange in that it was asymmetrical, like her eyes were slanted at a slight angle to the line of her mouth and the vertical of her nose. Amy tilted her head a lot so that folks wouldn't notice. But it wasn't unattractive. She was pretty and her funny face was like one of those French movie actresses; it looked completely different depending on the angle you shot her from. Her body was like something from a Raphael painting: not quite fat but fleshy and pear-shaped, with small, unevenly-weighted breasts. It wasn't beauty pageant material, but it was a sensuous body and Amy was a sensual woman and I loved her. "So, who gets the gold ring first?" I said. "We flip a coin." Amy reached over to the bedside table, put down Brandon's letter and picked up a dime. "Heads or tails?" "Heads." Amy slapped the coin down on the back of her hand and revealed it. "Heads it is, then." "You trust me with the gold?" I looked keenly into her eyes, looking for any sign of uncertainty. I just got her deep brown gaze straight back. "I do," she said, levelly. There was something wedding-like about this. I reached for the silver ring. It was a simple band with no ornamentation. I then slipped it onto Amy's left hand. She picked up the gold band and put it onto my ring finger. It was a perfect fit. "So, Mark. What's your first wish?" "I thought we'd take this slow. I thought I'd wish you back some of your youth." "You saying I'm too old?" Amy arched an eyebrow. "I'm saying you're thirty-cough! years old," I mimed the cough, "and I wish I could see you what you looked like when you were seventeen." I suddenly realized I'd just made my wish. "Hey, my skin's tingling!" exclaimed Amy. "Am I changing?" "You sure are, baby." I wouldn't have believed it unless I'd seen it with my own eyes, but this was bona fide magic in action. The changes were subtle but swift as Amy's flesh morphed and flowed. She seemed to lose a little plumpness at her waist and hips, then her breasts seemed to unsag slightly and lift upward, becoming more perky and conical. Most noticeable was her face, which smoothed and rounded and... "What's the matter?" Amy looked concerned. She must have seen something in my expression. Had her voice had changed tone slightly? "Look in the mirror." "Oh my God, it's me!" Amy had slid off the bed and was checking herself in the full-length mirror. "I mean it's me at seventeen, zits and all! God, I look hideous!" "No you don't, Amy. Though I wish the acne would go away." "Oh my God, did you see that? It just vanished!" Amy turned to look at me and I could see it was true. The splash of spots had gone, leaving clear, unblemished skin and an outline of fine down around her face. We both looked at the rings and suddenly realized what awesome potential they had. "Amy, I just said the words and it happened. Just like that!" "Mark, let me have the gold!" Amy was trying to pull off the silver ring, but it wasn't budging. "Stop that, Amy. You read Brandon's letter. Didn't you say you couldn't take off the silver ring until I'd taken off the gold?" "Then take it off!" Amy whined, climbing back on the bed in her new, more lissome body, her breasts shimmying beneath her. "I want to change you!" "In a moment, Amy. I want to do one more thing." "That's not fair! I trusted you!" "No, please Amy, it's just a simple thing. It's your face. I mean, it's great to see you so young, but it's really weird seeing your face as a teenager." "What do you mean?" "Look in the mirror. Your face has these traces of puppy fat and looks unformed. It's like you haven't grown into your looks. I really love your grown-up face. I wish your face is what it looked like at twenty- five." "I feel some tingling again." Her face was shifting, her features becoming subtly sharper and more defined, and suddenly there was the visage of the Amy I loved. "That's more like it. Give me a smile." Amy gave me her full-beam thousand candlepower effort, then held out her hand to demand my ring. Reluctantly, I pulled it off and put it in her palm. "Look, the silver band comes off easily now," she said, handing it to me. "Put it on," she commanded. We both slipped on the rings. "So what now, darling?" I said. In truth I was a little concerned at the power Amy now held over me. I was now beginning to understand why this was a test of trust. "I'll do the same to you," said Amy. "I wish you had the body you had at seventeen and the face you had at twenty-five." Now it was my turn to feel tingling and there were pins and needles all over my body. My skin seemed to dance. I looked down at my naked form to see the small accumulation of flab at my waist start to shrink back and my arms start to slim. The transformation was rapid, taking no more than a few breaths. "God, Mark!" Amy laughed. "You're so skinny!" I looked in the mirror. Yeah, it was an old version of me. "I told you I was all angles and bones as a youngster." I laughed and patted my new flat stomach. Had my voice raised a notch? It didn't seem to have its old burr. "It took beer and beefsteak to put some meat on me," I said. "You still want to sleep with me?" "God, yes!" We tumbled into each other's arms, tongues kissing, hands exploring each other. I longed to touch Amy's new body. She was still a little pear-shaped, but her skin seemed smoother to the touch and had fewer blemishes. Her breasts seemed to have changed the most. They felt so much firmer and I delighted in licking her nipples hard. My hand groped between her legs and she was hot and wet down there. As I started to work her with my fingers Amy began to breathe hard and we were soon slipping into our old lovemaking routines, built over months of practice. Then, just as we were building up a head of steam, it all seemed to go wrong. The moment Amy's hand touched my hard-on I suddenly got excited and ejaculated, prematurely. I was stunned; I hadn't done this for... forever, or at least since that first high school fumble I'd had with Katie Deevers. There were groans and I had to give a red-faced apology as Amy wiped herself down with a Kleenex. We got started again and she tried to stroke between my legs a second time. I came again, involuntarily, my body surging out of control, making another mess. By now Amy had given up so I tried to arouse her, cupping and kissing the swellings of her breasts and stroking between her legs, but I couldn't get her to come at all. I worked her a long time, trying every trick I knew. With my fingers I reached inside Amy and gently played with her clitoris, caressing the little bundle of nerves and slipping my fingers into the sensitive spots in her vagina, but Amy's responses didn't seem as powerful as normal. Then, after putting on a condom, I entered her. Almost immediately I penetrated I climaxed for the third time, but had done nothing but make her sweaty and irritated. Eventually I lay back on the wet spots, frustrated and exhausted. "This is so weird," I said. "It's like we're not in control of these bodies, or something." "No, it's not weird, it's being seventeen again," said Amy, biting her lip and stroking my face. "I think our bodies are still all screwed up with hormones. You've got stamina but no mastery over your responses. And as for me..." "Mmm?" I looked at her. "Look, Mark. I don't think I had an orgasm until I was twenty-eight. It took a long time and several fucked up relationships to realize that sex was as much about my pleasure as my partner's." "Oh baby, I'm sorry," I reached over to hold and comfort Amy. "I thought for years that it was tension or anxiety," Amy went on, "something in the mind that meant I couldn't come. I spent most of my twenties having a real complex over it. But now I can't orgasm again and I wonder... was it something physical? Was my body wired different when I was young? Was there some growing I had to do?" "I don't know, sweetie. I wish I knew the answer," I said. Amy looked anxiously into my eyes. "I'm seventeen again and I feel like I've been deprogrammed. I've lost something precious." "Darling, I'm sure it's fine. Can we wish your old sexual reflexes back?" "Only one way to try, lover." Amy wagged her left hand with the ring, seeming to recover some of her confidence. "But I get to do something with you first!" I suddenly felt a tingling about my scrotum. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I'm wishing the words in my head. Did you feel something?" I nodded and Amy smiled, wickedly. "Then I've just refilled your balls." She closed her eyes and I realized she was wishing again. I felt my flaccid penis begin to crawl. "What on Earth was that?" I said, looking down. "Just a little extension, my baby," Amy kissed her lips to mine. "And if my wish was granted you just got your old self-control back." I felt my penis spring to life and reached down to touch. It was smooth and hard and definitely longer and broader. It felt strange and unfamiliar against my fingers, like it belonged to someone else. There was another change Amy had made: my dick was now uncircumcised. My thumb glided across the restored skin. "Look, was my old size not big enough?" I protested, gently. "Oh, it was plenty big enough, lover, honest," Amy caressed my face and looked deep into my eyes to reassure me. "It's just I want to know what something bigger feels like. And I made it 'whole' again so that it would give you more pleasure. Anyway," she said, pressing the gold ring into my palm while trying to fish the silver one off my left hand, "didn't you ever want to try a girl with bigger boobs? You can do that now if you want." She had a point. "Yeah," I said, putting the ring on, "but I've always thought quality more important than quantity. I mean, anything more than a handful is a waste." I composed a series of wishes in my mind. The first, that Amy had her old adult sexual responses back. The second, which came to me a moment later, was to ask that her body was more sensitive and receptive to sexual stimulus. I had no idea what that would do to her, but it couldn't be bad, could it? "I'm feeling a change sensation in my body, Mark. What have you done?" "With any luck I've given you back your orgasms," I grinned. "Oh, and there's something more." I made another wish and in a moment I could see Amy's chest begin to bloom outward. She looked down and gave a small squeal as she saw her schoolgirl breasts grow a cup size and become more symmetrical. "Not any bigger than that?" she pouted at me. "Well, I was always told that the bigger they got the less sensitive they were, and this is about giving YOU pleasure, not what MY wants are." Those were the right words and Amy hugged me around the neck and pulled me down onto her and we were caressing again. This time was different, and as our foreplay built I could feel a lust gather in my loins. I stroked Amy's smooth and softer new breasts. Her nipples were larger, as if they'd expanded, and when I kissed and licked them she made sharp intakes of breaths and shudders - a super-response I'd never seen before. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Yes, yes," she breathed. "Keep doing that." I played with her bosom for a while as it pooled on her chest, enjoying her shudder and shake with the pleasures my touch was giving her. Then I reached down between her legs again and entered her with my forefinger. It glided, as if through liquid silk, until I found the little nubbin of her clitoris and started to ring around it softly. Suddenly Amy was twitching again and making deep gasps. Her body was writhing now, her hips pushing against my hand as if to demand I penetrate deeper. "What have you done to me, Mark?" she panted, between convulsions. "I've never felt so... so turned on as this." I stopped briefly. "I think I made your body more sensitive, love," I said. "I wasn't sure if it would work. Look, I can change you back..." "Don't you dare!" warned Amy with a growl. "Keep at what you were doing!" With that I started again, slip-slipping at her clit and the slick insides of her vagina until she came - a big wracking orgasm that left her wild-eyed on the sheets, sweating. "What WAS that?" she said, when she'd gotten her breath back. "That was just amazing!" I held Amy quietly for a while as she decompressed from her orgasm, then she started to caress and touch me. When her hand stroked my penis there were no embarrassing accidents. She curled on the bed and began to come down on my new, large cock and suck me. She worked at it gently for a while, my foreskin pulled back, lick- licking at the head, brushing it with her moistened lips. She was right, it felt much better, much more sensual like this. Something carnal started to build in my loins and wind itself around the base of my penis. Then Amy cupped my balls until I felt them contract slightly and I spasmed, ejaculating into Amy's soft mouth. And it felt sooooo good as she swallowed and licked me and lapped the glans clean. "C'mon, big boy. I want you inside me, now!" said Amy, lying back. "You've still got plenty of powder in the magazine." I rolled over and began to work her pussy with my fingers again, getting her good and wet, while she expertly kept my penis aloft with her slender hands and unrolled another condom on to it. I mounted her and started to thrust. She seemed much tighter around me now and I wasn't sure I was all the way in. But whatever I was doing was turning Amy into a wildcat, scratching at my back and thrashing beneath me. I think she must have come just before I did, because I heard some great gasps, and then I felt the base of my penis pumping, and the wet warmth at its head. My rhythm shifted from fast little bunny ruts into slow, deep strokes and I felt I was ramming into something inside her. Then we collapsed back onto the bed, breathless. "That was incredible!" said Amy, gasping and flopping an arm over my chest. "You were incredible!" "Ames, you don't know how good that makes me feel!" I smiled back. * * * After a while we took the rings off and got up. I put on some shorts and a shirt. Amy went into the bathroom, had a shower and emerged wearing her bathrobe, long ago stolen from a hotel. It was so strange that we'd lost some twenty years each. I felt lighter, more energetic. I hadn't realized how much zest I'd lost since I'd hit my late thirties. It was not even midday yet, so we sat in the lounge of Amy's small apartment, drinking coffee and talking. I was reverting to the bundle of nervous energy I'd been as a teen; I was getting animated. "Amy, do you realize how damn dangerous this magic is? It's... it's so seductive!" "You mean we might be tempted to do anything with it?" "Yeah. I'm finding I have to guard my thinking. What if someone used these rings to wish something malicious on their partner? Maybe hurt them or remove a limb or something... or, or change them into something monstrous?" "Ewwww... I wish you hadn't put that into my head," said Amy, making a face. "I'm going to be thinking of that all day!" "That's the point!" I said, excitedly. "What if an unguarded thought comes into your head while you have the gold ring? Who knows what havoc you can cause? Do you see the danger now?" "Yeah," said Amy, worried. "Maybe we need some ground rules or something..." "No, no... that's a trap. That's the trap Brandon has set for us! He was a clever old cuss, wasn't he?" "I don't follow you; what trap?" said Amy. "The trust trap. You only have ground rules if you don't trust the other person; if you're afraid," I explained. "If we truly love and trust each other, there can be no fear. We have to do this without a safety net." Amy thought on that a moment, biting at her lower lip. "No rules at all?" "Only the rules of trust, which are that you believe in someone completely and utterly until the moment they let you down. We have to be totally in each other's hands. We mustn't let go." Amy started to say: "I was going to suggest that we..." but I managed to intercept her. "No, Amy. No rules, no suggestions. Just trust, honesty and love." I stroked her cheek. She looked so sweet, her wet, dark hair framing her face, looking up at me quizzically. I wanted to kiss her again. "Okay Mark, I trust you. But that means you must trust me also. Are you sure you can do that?" I said "Yes," but in my heart tiny fears fluttered. * * * Back in the bedroom we stripped then flipped the coin. I won again. "So what are we going to do?" said Amy, slipping on the silver ring. "We can be anything. We can be our fantasy partners," I said, idly putting the gold ring on. She took a deep breath. "Okay, hit me with it!" I made a wish and then watched as Amy transformed. This was a more radical change. She grew a few inches and her proportions shifted and altered, becoming more statuesque. Her dark hair grew blacker, thicker and wavier and her face altered, ripening into a regular shape with a strong jawline. After a few moments the changes stopped and there she stood, a figure with fantasy proportions: broad-shouldered and wasp- waisted with a suggestion of muscle in her limbs and large, scooped breasts that challenged the pull of gravity. She had a bold, beautiful face with heavy lashes and a firm mouth. "Oh my God, is this me?" said Amy, swiveling to the mirror. Her voice seemed a little harder, more strident. "Is this your fantasy girl?" She turned back, looking mad. "Give me that gold ring!" "Amy, I..." I hadn't expected this anger. "Give!" I didn't hesitate with the forceful woman now barking orders. I pulled off the ring and handed it over. Amy gave me hers and I now had the silver ring on, feeling a tingle all over my body again. I looked down to see my physique start to bulk up and my skin color darken. I suddenly realized what was happening. "What are you doing, Amy? I'm turning black!" I almost shouted at her. I glanced to the mirror and could see a tall, athletic black guy with a lean, burnished body and shaved head. "Is this who you want? Some NBA stud?" "Well what have you done to me, then?" she screamed back. "Is this what you want me to be? Is this what you dream of when I'm not around?" The truth suddenly hit me. "Amy, Amy," I tried to say reassuringly. My voice had dropped a register and was deeper. I tried to move over to her to embrace her in my long arms, but she backed off, snarling. "Amy, I didn't expect... no, don't you see what's happening here?" "No! What do you mean, 'what's happening'?" "This is another part of the test, baby." I reached out to her with a hand. "These changes, they're making us jealous." "What, you mean jealous of our fantasies?" "That's it, Amy. I mean in our old bodies we're not pinups and we're not young. And now we get to be anyone we want and our gut reaction is: 'so that's who he really wants!' Suddenly we're confused and consumed with jealousy." Amy looked as if she might be calming down. "I just didn't expect this, Mark," she said waving down at her voluptuous new figure. "I mean, you're an artist and we love going to galleries. I thought you'd turn me into someone from a painting: one of your doe-eyed Pre- Raphaelite women, a Gaugin Tahitian... or some star from one of your favorite silent movies. Not some cheap, gimcrack Miss Universe, beach volleyball, bunny girl... uuuugh." She ran out of words and gave a strangled cry of frustration. "Hey, hey, girl..." Amy let me inside her guard and I could now hold her and rock her slightly as we stood naked together. So much about my new body was different. It felt rangy and powerful; my heartbeat was slower and steadier; my breathing rhythm had changed. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth, feeling the new contours of my teeth. Then I paused to stoop the wedge of my head and kiss Amy's fragrant mass of black hair. "Shhhh... Ames, you were almost right, darling. I didn't turn you into a Rossetti painting. I turned you into a drawing. I made you into Wonder Woman." "What?!" at this Amy burst out laughing and buckled. I had to hold her upright but I seemed to have some muscle in this new body and she was no weight at all. "Look, baby," I said, "I have lots of fantasies. Different ones for different moods and places. I thought I'd make you someone strong and tough and independent and an Amazon princess." "A comic book heroine?" Amy was now getting the giggles. "I doubt you get the superpowers, but what man could resist the chance to make love to Wonder Woman?" Amy tilted her head, though she had no need to with her new, symmetrical face. "And who can resist such a stud?" she smiled, and craned up to kiss me, and we let our tongues touch and taste each other. There was something sweet about this new Amy and I thrust deep into her mouth, making her squeal. We made love for a long while, gently bringing each other to orgasm. But in these new bodies it seemed - how can I say it? - strangely unsatisfying. I mean, it was fantastic to run my hands over Amy's idealized super-body, swoosh it past her trim waist and stroke the firm rocks of her breasts. She caressed my polished black skin and my muscles and was delighted with the size of my dick. With it I impaled this ultimate wet-dream, this airbrushed perfection, this demi- goddess. But still, once we'd finished and fallen back to catch our breaths, we both decided it wasn't as intense an experience as in our previous forms. "Is it that your body isn't sensitive enough?" I asked Amy. "I could wish it to be more sensuous." "No, it's not that," she said. It was odd to see her new face with its luscious eyelashes and sharp bone structure; living analogs of the comic-book covers. "I think that the fantasies are not right. These fantasies - the superheroine and the superfly - they're very shallow. They're not our real dreams. I mean, we've come through this jealousy test but we still haven't trusted ourselves with our deep desires." "That could be dangerous territory, lover." "But as you said, it's all about trust." * * * We took a break for some light lunch. We'd changed back into our seventeen-year-old selves, or at least the enhanced versions that we liked. "This is powerful magic," I said. "I wonder why Brandon didn't use if to save himself?" "What, from the tumor?" "Yeah, he could have had someone wish it out of him. I mean if you'd known about it you would have done that for him Amy, wouldn't you?" "Maybe, yeah. I don't know," replied Amy sadly, toying with her salad. "He didn't say anything in his letter. But I remember talking to him in the hospice, just before he passed away. He said that he was at peace and he felt it was time to go and explore the other side. He was a rationalist, but he did believe in some kind of afterlife, I think. Maybe the fact that he'd found some real magic made that belief stronger." "So he saw this as a natural progression of his journey?" "I think so. He wasn't afraid of death. Maybe he thought that hanging onto life by artificial means, or by magic, was worse. That would have been a compromise and, well you know Brandon... he couldn't abide compromise." "Well," I said, looking upwards, "bless him, wherever he is. I'll raise a drink to him." I paused and looked sideways at Amy. "Ames, do you think we should go any further with this magic?" "You're not afraid of me, are you?" "Not of you, darling," I said reaching a hand across the table to her. "I'm more afraid of us. I tell you, babe, this whole magic thing is exciting me and turning me on like nothing I've ever felt in my life. It's this intense rush and it's starting to consume me. I just hope we know when to stop. I know I said all that stuff about trust and that still stands. I love you, and trust you with my life. I'm just wondering whether I trust myself not to get swept away and go too far." Amy narrowed her eyes slightly. "Now THAT's a worry!" "No, no, it's not. Hopefully it's a healthy thing. It means all my self-checking mechanisms - all the parts of my mind that keep me in control - are still working." * * * Back in the bedroom we debated what to do. "I don't think you can ask someone to just come up with their deepest fantasy desires, darling," I told Amy. "I don't think it works like that. I think you build up to it. You experiment and escalate, like making preliminary sketches before you start a finished artwork." "So you're saying we doodle?" "Yeah, we play with it. We break our inhibitions down. We see where it takes us." "Without a safety net?" Amy looked pensive. To be honest I was just as nervous and keyed up as her, but I could see no other way. "We're in each other's hands," I said. Nervously, we started with a series of simple changes. We tried some movie actors and pop stars, but that didn't work for the same reason Wonder Woman and the basketball stud didn't work; they seemed too superficial and crass. Even my favorite silent-era pinup, Louise Brooks, was a disappointment. Amy became the lithe, sexy creature from the movie Pandora's Box, down to the smoldering eyes, delicate bone structure and dark bob haircut; but though we kissed and I fondled Louise-Amy's sweet, small breasts, it felt counterfeit and wrong. "It's like a mask you're wearing," I told Amy, "a disguise. I can't see you inside there, darling, and it's you I love." Amy smiled, ruefully. "If I take one thing away from this, Mark, it's that some fantasies are better kept dreams than made real." So we changed back to our own bodies and began to build variations on those. I tried Amy with graceful, full breasts and a more shapely, hourglass figure. Draped, raven curls now framed her face and her lips were formed into a bee-stung pout. I tried the old artist's trick of lengthening her legs a head-height or so to make her look more nubile. The effect was amazing. Stretched out on the bed she looked like a posed Varga girl stepped straight out of the pages of a '40s magazine. You could have painted her on the nose of a B-17 bomber. In return Amy was less aesthetic and I received a toned, finely muscled swimmer's physique from her. She brought out the baby oil and started to rub it into my body and let me lube her skin in return. With our skins slickered we made love, and as we lay together I couldn't get enough of her accentuated womanliness; her erotic softness and curves. I loved her caresses on my taut body. The near frictionless slipping of our flesh made me aroused and hard, and when I came inside her it felt perfect. Amy shone through this new skin; I was making love to her, not a sham fantasy. I felt love for her and felt loved. After exchanging rings again I was back in control of the gold. I felt I needed a stark contrast to the Varga girl. Retaining Amy's head on her shoulders, I wished her into the body of a gymnast. In a few seconds she was a sinewy sylph, the baby oil still glistening on her skin. Amy was surprised by the change. "I've got almost no tits and no hips, I look like a boy!" she said. "Yeah, sorry. I used to have this thing for East European gymnasts when I watched the Olympics as a kid. I just wished you were this seventeen-year-old Romanian girl that I had a crush on." "But those girls trained so hard they didn't grow up! They didn't go through puberty until they were, like, nineteen and on the shelf!" Amy seemed amused by the whole thing and, looking down at her tight little body, she began to ponder. "I haven't done gym for twenty years. I wonder how limber I am?" I watched as she eased off the bed and started to lean forward, arching her back, bending one leg right back behind her, until her foot was almost curled round to her ear. She held this for a moment, balancing steadily on one leg, before she flowed back to a two-footed stance like a ballet dancer. "Whoa! I bet I could do the splits now," she said admiringly of her new physique. I decided to surprise her with a sudden wish on the gold ring, and all of a sudden her chest began to bud. Her tiny nipples swelled and in a moment two good-sized teardrop breasts had formed, looking incongruous on her slim, gamine body. "Damn, that was quick," Amy said, looking down to feel the flesh with her small hands and brush against her small, tilted teats. I felt so horny now that I just pulled her onto the bed and began plucking at her breasts with my lips while my hands felt their way down her long, oiled body and limbs, feeling the sculpted muscle. I wondered if this gymnast body had been sexually active. To make sure I wished Amy enhanced sexual responses and in seconds I had her breathing hard. "That's enough changes, Mark, it's my turn now," said a panting Amy, reaching for my left hand. I stopped caressing her for a moment and we switched rings. "Are you going to change me, then?" I asked. "Not yet. You keep going, lover," Amy smiled. I began to reach down between her legs again, my fingers brushing over a soft, light puff of pubic hair to stroke the inside of her thighs. I took my time, gliding my hand down the length of her limbs. There was something coltish about this young body of hers that made me feel hot and filled with desire. Suddenly there was a tingle, like crawling ants, all over my body and I realized Amy was changing me. The tingles came in pulses and I knew she was making multiple wishes. Now, instead of looking at my muscular swimmer's arm with its large hand, I was staring at something slender and hairless, with very little muscle, slim fingers and soft, pale skin. I felt hair at my cheeks and shoulders; long ash- blond hair dangling down either side of my face. "Don't stop, baby," said Amy, who was supine, with my fingertips poised near her labia. "Sorry Ames, I need to check myself out," I kneeled and glanced over to the mirror. I saw I looked more boyish, now, even slightly feminine. Had she shrunk me a few inches? I no longer had a ripped body but a supple, androgynous figure with no body hair. My face looked more rounded and the long haircut gave me a pouting rock star appearance. "I didn't expect this," I said. "Nor did I," said Amy. "But it occurred to me that in our last change you had a hardbody and I was soft. And now I'm all hard muscle and I wanted you to be soft. So I sorta picked up the ball and ran with it." "I look almost girlish," I said. "Yeah, how about that?" smiled Amy. "Now, I want to test-drive this bod and see just how flexible it is." Then started one of the most - how can I say this? - gymnastic sex sessions I'd ever had. We discovered Amy's body had a very small vagina, so she shrank my penis slightly, to make for a better fit. Surprisingly, in spite of my initial misgivings, it didn't seem to matter being smaller. We fooled around, with Amy on top in bed, then with her sat perched on the edge of the dresser, legs wrapped around me while I banged her. And every time I thought I was running out of stamina, I felt a small tingling in my balls and knew that Amy had wished them filled again. Amy's Olympic body was supremely pliant and at one point she was bent back like a pretzel as I tried to enter her 'upside down' while kissing her mouth the wrong way up. Then I took her from behind with her legs spread wide, almost in the splits; as I entered she locked my waist with her thighs. Eventually, Amy lay back on the bed and let me ride her, missionary style. With my long hair draping almost to her skin I felt soft and girl-like against her hard muscle. I swear my waist looked narrower. Now I was on top of her and inside her and starting to stroke away in a regular rhythm. And I felt Amy's hands on my firm, flat chest, and then she was playing with my nipples. They felt rigid and highly responsive. Small pulses of pleasure came from them; far stronger than anything I'd felt before. I was starting to gasp a little with each little flick of my nipple tips and it excited me and made my rhythm build faster. I started to feel a familiar pressure building in my balls and I knew I would come any moment. Suddenly there was a prickling in my chest, followed by a wave of new sensations. Confused, I stopped thrusting and looked down. I could see two prominent swellings drooping into Amy's hands. I'd grown breasts! She was kneading the yielding flesh, fingers playing across the large aureoles and puffed, rock-hard nipples. The sudden realization of what she'd done sent a shock of excitement through me and I felt my cock snap harder than it had ever been in my life, veins tight, the head red hot and hurting. The rush was so great there was a sudden pumping as my balls shuddered and I ejaculated hard into Amy. I began to thrust again, working out the last of my seed, now feeling strange buzzes of pleasure coming from my bust. When I was spent I collapsed onto Amy, and she wrapped her arms and legs around me and we lay there a while, swaddled together like a spider embracing a fly, saying nothing. "You've given me boobs!" I eventually whispered into Amy's ear. "I know. Do you like them?" We unwrapped ourselves and I lay back on a pillow, looking down at my chest. My face must have been a picture. "You look like you've won the jackpot!" chuckled Amy. Sitting up, I could see my breasts properly now. They were not massive - maybe a good handful - but well-shaped, with rosy, puffy teats pointed at 45 degrees to each other. There was no sign of sag, as if they were newly bloomed. I could make out a delicate network of veins beneath the smooth skin. Just thinking about them made my nipples go hard and my hands went up to touch and feel the doughy softness of the flesh. "Wow!" I heard myself saying. "I mean, this is like a fantasy... I mean, I've been curious before, but... wow!" I wasn't making any sense, but I didn't want to. "Let me help you, lover," said Amy, reaching across to cup one breast, squeeze it lightly, then slowly come down with her lips to lick at it and orbit the nipple with her tongue. The sensations were intimate and intense, with small sensuous pulses coming from my new bosom. I let her work one breast while I gently touched the other, feeling the velvet texture of its skin and gauging the responses. Eventually, Amy left me to play with my bust while she bent over my penis and started to suck me hard, her raven locks draped over her face. She still had the Varga girl lips and their liquid softness engulfed me. The pressures in my loins and my chest built so fast they overwhelmed my responses and I felt myself coming into Amy's mouth. Serenely, she gulped and licked the semen away. Then she came up to lie beside me and we embraced and kissed and let our hands play delicately across each other's breasts, just enjoying the soothing touch. * * * We lay, snuggled and still for a while as the early afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains began to pass into late afternoon. Then suddenly we were disturbed by the blapping of the 'phone. Amy got up out of bed and threw on her bathrobe. I heard her pick up the cordless in the lounge and soon realized she was in conversation with her mother, about Sunday lunch tomorrow up at her parents' home in the hills. The talk seemed to go on for a while about nothing in particular. So I lay on the bed and just looked at my breasts and explored them a while with my fingertips, entranced, noticing their weight, and the way they rose and fell with my breathing. It felt so erotic. I needed something to drink, so I put on my shorts and walked out toward the kitchen. Standing, my bust hung free and I could feel its mass and the small tensions of the flesh and skin as my breasts fidgeted and jogged. I was topless as I passed Amy and I saw her start to snicker at the sight and interrupt her conversation with her mother. As I headed back to the bedroom with a glass of water I noticed her hunched down over the handset, saying, "No, no... it's something Mark just said." Eventually I heard Amy put down the 'phone and saw her glide back into the room. She seemed so poised and graceful in this gymnast body and I wondered if that was innate to the form - the natural way it moved. "You can't get enough of those, can you?" she nodded at my chest, before shedding the bathrobe and climbing, catlike onto the bed. I nodded. "Hey, I think this is every man's dream, to at least try this for a while. It's so sensual, you know? I'm just blown away. I never thought you'd do anything like this." I reached out to Amy, drew her in and kissed her tenderly. "I still have the gold ring, you know," she said, pulling back and looking deep into my eyes. "Ames, what are you..." I stopped, because I felt my bosom tingle again. I looked down and saw it swell slightly. My breasts seemed a stretched and distended now, and maybe slightly sagged, the nipples darker and more puffed. I quickly reached up with one hand to feel my right breast and strangely it felt firmer. I squeezed - OW! - and found it tender to the touch. A moment later I felt a strange wetness and noticed a tiny bead of whitish fluid form at the teat. "Amy, you haven't... have you?" "Oh yes I have," Amy's smile was pure mischief, and in a moment she was down at the nipple, sucking at me. "Ow! Careful of teeth!" I yelled. Amy retreated from the nip she'd given me and concentrated on suckling with her luscious Varga girl lips. I just lay back, feeling a slight prickling sensation in the breast behind the teat as I started to let down milk. "Mmm, you're really sweet," said Amy, coming up for air, then going back down again. I just let her suck at me, feeling an enormous pleasure start to spread, a light euphoria. The nursing action seemed to be triggering some chemical response inside me, though I had no idea yet what it was. The suckling felt so intimate and pleasurable. My dick was hard but my balls felt empty and were squeezing so much it hurt. I glanced down and saw my left breast was weeping milk in sympathy with the right. I let a finger collect some drops and touched it to my tongue. It was thin and sweetish and warm. Amy noticed what I'd done and switched breasts, now drawing milk from the left while the right seemed to form droplets in time to the sucking. Eventually Amy gave up her 'meal' and came to kiss me again. I felt blissed out after the feeding session. Amy now had her face inches from mine and was looking into my eyes with love. "Do you trust me, Mark?" she whispered. "I do," I breathed back. "You know I love you," she said. "I'm in your hands," I replied. A moment later I began to feel the now-familiar tingle of a change overcome me. This one worked its way from top to toe and I knew what was happening. It was a completely new body and I stared at the ceiling for a moment to familiarize myself with the novel sensations and rhythms. Breathing, pulse, the new row of teeth my tongue-tip was stroking, they were all different. I noticed my vision was a little clearer, sharper, more vividly colored. Then I looked down to see that my nursing breasts were unchanged, but below that the landscape was all new territory. I stood up and clambered off the bed. I needed to check this in the mirror. I was a woman, no doubt about that, maybe in my early twenties, though these days I had difficulty judging ages. My face was unfamiliar and yet familiar: heart-shaped and pretty in an unconventional way. I had my old blue eyes, with heavier lashes, but a smaller, straighter nose, fuller lips and a mass of short but heavy blond hair that seemed to drag at my slim neck. It was a feminine version of me; my face from an alternate life with a different set of chromosomes. My gaze dropped down to take in my nude figure. From my shoulders I tapered to a slender waist with a nicely undulating belly and then flared to well-proportioned hips and sinuous legs with small, shapely feet. I stared at the mysterious patch of fuzz between my legs. "I look so..." my voice tapered off; it was modulated higher than I was used to. "Amy, I'm just..." It was so disconcerting hearing a voice so very different from mine. There was a dissonance between my words as they formed in the air and the ones in my head. I looked over to my lover. "I'm a girl, Amy. I'm a girl." I turned around and felt my breasts swing. I was so aware of them just being there and the way they moved as I did. They were starting to feel a little cold. All of a sudden I felt vulnerable in this body like I never had as a man. I was confused and unsure. Amy must have sensed this. "It's fine, Mark. You're safe with me. I love you. Come here and let me hold you." I went back to the bed and sat down and let Amy embrace me for a while. Then she released me and in a moment she held the gold ring in front of me. "Time to exchange," she said. We swapped rings, but I didn't feel like transforming Amy just yet. Instead we started necking, then petting, girl-on-girl. I guessed Amy must have tuned up my responses to the max because every one of her caresses felt like heaven. I was falling in love with the eroticism of this new shape and the things she was doing to me. She cupped and fondled my bosom and I had to tell her to be careful because my breasts felt so tender. Then she came down with her mouth on them and I nursed her again for a while, right breast then left, feeling that blissful peace pass over me. Then we kissed. And I made a wish. I looked down to see Amy's chest expand like blown-up balloons, the aureoles darkening and stretching, the flesh sagging slightly beneath the weight. I now pushed her back onto the bed and started to lick at her left breast. Now it was my turn to suckle and Amy nursed me a while, stroking my mane of blonde hair, throwing her head back and mewing occasionally as I fed on her sweet, sweet milk. When Amy had had enough she pushed me away and I felt a hand start to slide down my belly to the space between my legs. We'd been making love all day, and in spite of the frequent body changes, I felt completely sensitized, so even this simple caress made me gasp. The skin on my inner thighs felt like silk and as Amy touched it my spine seemed to spasm. I was lying on my back, just breathing deeply now, feeling weeping droplets of my mothers' milk slowly track down the curves of my breasts and feeling a pressure, an unfamiliar tension begin to grow in my loins. The absence of a penis and balls felt so eerie. There was not even a phantom presence of them. Instead there was a hot, hard feeling between my legs. As Amy swept her fingers lightly up my labia I shivered and shuddered, my breasts puddling and shaking under their weight. Then I felt her finger search out the soft folds of skin and slip between my lips into my vagina. I felt a strange moistness there and I knew I must be very wet now. The tension kept building, sending tremors though me. Now there were fingers sweetly probing inside of me, swirling amongst the slick, lubricated skin, and I felt small shocks of pleasure. My eyes shut tight with the intensity of this touch. I realized I must have grabbed hold of Amy's shoulder and was squeezing it hard, feeling nails dig in. I couldn't stop myself; my responses were out of control. My hips were moving of their own will and bearing down on my lover's fingers. Amy said nothing but just kept on going, exploring, finding another sensitive spot that made me moan involuntarily. Every part of me was now completely turned on and receptive; I felt keyed up. Then I sensed Amy lean up and kiss me on the lips and whisper, "Welcome to the woman's world." Just then she swept one of her fingers upwards and touched my new clitoris and I just exploded inside. There was this sudden, intense gush of sensation that so overpowered me that I immediately started sobbing. My whole world contracted and I could feel nothing but the zillion volt charge coming from my clit, so intense it was, as Amy's fingertip slipped at the fleshy button, nuzzled and flicked it. And still the pressure was building inside me and I was crying for Amy to release it. Then we locked lips, tongues teasing, and that was the trigger that pushed me over the edge; I was suddenly in freefall. The pressure gave way and there was this rush through my body from base to apex, a crashing wet wave that caught me and flung me into the air. I was careening from the emotional overload and I lay on the sheets, sweat blooming across me, crying and crying and unable to stop. And Amy lay alongside and held me and comforted me and repeated that she loved me. * * * We needed a break. I was shivering a little, so Amy donned her bathrobe and handed me one of her nighties to wear. She walked back into the lounge while I went to pee. In this feminine body it turned out to be less troublesome than I expected, though I needed some tissue to clean up afterward. As I sashayed back into the lounge Amy said, "Eeeew... you're leaking." I looked down and could see she was right. There were tiny wet patches on the nightie where small drops had formed at my nipples. "What about yours?" I asked. Amy pulled the top of her bathrobe to one side and stared down. "Uh, the same, I think. Though this toweling seems to be absorbing it." "I can change you back," I said, helpfully. "In a moment, baby," she replied. "I need a shower and then I need some food." In the end we both showered, washing off the afternoon's sweat and the baby oil. I enjoyed the feel of the water playing down my sensitized body. I came out with my hair in a mess and Amy had to show me how to turban it in a towel while she brushed her jet black 1940s curls out. This done we took a moment to cuddle on the couch. "I really love this body, Amy. It's sensational," I said, nuzzling her neck. "Would you like to stay like that?" "Yes. No. Uh, I'm happy as a guy. But I'd like to revisit this again. The experience is so different, so intense, and it's strangely comfortable being like this. It's a holiday from my own body. How's yours?" "It's nice," said Amy. "I feel powerful and graceful as a gymnast, but I'm not sure I'm built for sex. I'd prefer something a little more womanly, like that previous body. That felt so luxurious; it was like wearing silk. There's a strange tightness, a tension in this one. I feel I might move too far and strain a muscle. Though that might be because I'm trying to stretch without warming up first." "I'm glad you like it. But I've got to confess I had to shut out some bad thoughts while we were making love." "Bad thoughts?" Amy looked askance at me. "Well, maybe not bad, but... bizarre. It was like you were a sketchpad and I knew I could draw you as anything I wanted. I could let my artist imagination run riot. I could have made you into a mythological creature," I looked up into Amy's eyes. "The thought passed through my mind that I could make you a mermaid, a centaur, or a fairy queen with real wings." I didn't tell Amy about the other things I'd imagined - the dark temptations and the horrors. "Why didn't you change me?" Amy asked. "Well, partly it was because I knew in my heart of hearts that the reality would be nothing like the fantasy. Like the Louise Brooks thing, but a thousand times worse. But I think the biggest reason was that I'd be turning you into something that was not human. I couldn't bear you being a monster, however beautiful or attractive you were. I..." I tried to search for words. "It would be a betrayal of trust, a... a violation." "So you discovered your limit?" "Yeah, there was this line that I couldn't allow myself to cross. I was tempted once or twice but I checked myself. If I'd stepped over that line I don't think we could have survived it. You would never have forgiven me." I hugged Amy tight. "And you'd have been right, darling." Amy craned and kissed me sweetly on my girl lips. "I'm glad you didn't go there." "So did you have any bad thoughts also?" I asked, curious, my eyes searching hers. "Oh yes, but I'm not telling you about them." Amy gave me that wicked grin again. I felt a chill pass through me and decided to change the subject. "So what about food?" I said. "Well, I thought I'd like to start with a little baby milk," smiled Amy, and in a deft motion she popped one of my titties out of the nightie's top and leaned over to suckle. And I just let her and lay back and nursed her for as long as she wanted. The experience made me feel a little sleepy and by the time she finished I was almost dozing off. Amy woke me up with a small shake. "Hey, baby, it's your turn..." She lay down on the couch and pulled open the top of her bathrobe, invitingly. I lay down in front of her, my head by her bosom, and as she revealed a breast I just latched on to the teat and started to suck at it, drawing in her milk. It was such a beautiful experience, lying there, feeding on Amy as she stroked my hair, singing a small song to herself. Eventually we stopped to make some solid food. I changed Amy's breasts again, drying up her milk. Then I made a second wish and they deflated and unbudded to became firm and nubile - small, sensitive tip-tilted cones more in proportion with her boyish body. * * * "So have we passed the test? The trust test? The compatibility test?" I asked, as we cleared up the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. "No, I think there's one more trial to come," said Amy. "What's that?" "I think you know, Mark. I made you into a woman..." I knew what was coming next and interrupted. "Look, darling, I want you to know I love you. I really do, more than life itself and after today I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But you gotta understand that I'm really not turned on by guys." "Then compromise," there was steel in Amy's voice. "I need to know what it's like as a man." It was dark outside when we got back into the bedroom. Our hair was dry now and Amy helped me brush out my blond locks, which felt sexy as she worked away at it. I was not used to the way it hung in my face and tickled, so Amy tied it back. We didn't bother to turn on the light and she worked in the gloom. I was nervous about what was going to happen next. I still had the gold ring and when Amy had finished my hair I made a quick wish, my consciousness willing the universe to change. I heard her squeal and say, "Wow," several times. We embraced on the bed. I could see Amy in the blue dimness now that my eyes had adjusted. She still had the same sculpted gymnasts' body with its tiny teenaged breasts. The big difference was between the legs. I'd given her a well-weighted penis and balls, much like my old set. They looked enormous between her slim thighs. She was uncircumcised and already growing hard and I wondered what novel sensations her brain was now processing. I reached down to her dick, took it in hand, and gently jerked the foreskin down. Amy was keeping up a running commentary, "Oh. My. God. The tip is, uh, uh, real sensitive, isn't it? And I can feel my balls! There's something moving there! They've just tightened, haven't they? Ohmigod, ohmigod!" There was only one way to do this and it had to be right. I'd never sucked off a man before, but for Amy I'd do anything. I bent over her penis and came down on it, tongue touching the tip. There was a musky smell, but the taste was neutral and, becoming more adventurous, I started to work my tongue softly around the glans. Amy's cock was hard as bone now and I didn't know what her responses would be. Maybe she would come prematurely as I'd done in my teenager's body. I could wish her some control, but decided against it. She needed to feel this in the raw and learn how her body reacted. Now I'd brought my lips down to the head of Amy's penis and enclosed it, sucking on it and pulling back, then going back down again, using my saliva to wet the glans. I started to get a rhythm going on this and now Amy fell quiet, shuddering every so often when I ran my tongue over the tip. "Oooh, that feels good," she eventually said, reaching a hand down to touch and tousle my hair. My back was starting to ache in this crouch, my heavy breasts were brushing against Amy's hips, my teats leaving little droplets on her skin, but I couldn't stop. While my mouth pumped at her cock my spare hand reached around to cup her balls and they felt nice and tight. With my thumb I caressed them a while, making Amy moan, "Oh, oohh," as I did so. Then I felt her ball sack shudder and contract even further and before she could finish a sharp gasp I felt something fill my mouth, glutinous and wet. I swallowed it down and backed off to take a breath, realizing that semen was still spurting. I went straight back down and tried to slurp it up: slightly sour, but a neutral-ish taste, not horrible, with a texture like egg white. I licked the head of Amy's penis clean then reached for a tissue to mop up the mess that had gotten away. "I'm sorry, love, I'm new at this," I said. "No worries, baby, so am I," said Amy, smiling beatifically in the low light of the bedroom. "I needed to feel what that orgasm felt like." "Well, you're not finished yet," I said. "I need you to make me a whole woman." I made another wish. "What was that?" said Amy, startled by the wish sensation. "Don't worry, baby, I've just refilled your balls." It was my turn to give a wicked grin. I damn well demanded that Amy seduces me, and so she did. Beginning with tongue kisses and working down to my breasts, still swollen with milk, she entered me manually, getting my vagina wet, and making my back arch and my hips jerk as she expertly manipulated my clitoris. With my hands I touched her penis, which was hot and smooth and hard. She let me unroll a condom onto it. "Do you trust me?" said Amy. "Yes, yesss," I replied, spreading my legs. With that, she mounted me. We were both unfamiliar with the equipment and spent a moment floundering around, but soon I felt Amy's cock enter me and I now enclosed her. I couldn't believe what it was like to have someone inside of me; these deep sensations in my loins. Amy was unsure what to do next and she tried to thrust inexpertly, once slipping out of me. But soon she was back in and had a rhythm working and I tried to coach her and encourage her best I could. And I stroked her back and reached down to the base of her spine and then played with her hard little gymnast breasts a while, forcing her nipples to stand to attention. And all the while I could feel the enormous spikes of pleasure coming up from my vagina and clitoris, and the thrill of her penis moving deep inside me. I found my hips instinctively jerking and bearing back down on her to increase the sensation as electric pulses seemed to run up my spine. Then Amy came and her rhythm shifted from shallow to long, slow, spurting thrusts; a natural cadence she'd suddenly discovered. I orgasmed a moment later, feeling the tidal rush flood me, carry me and deposit me back on the bed, flushed and tearful. We collapsed, completely spent, and after Amy had languidly pulled herself off me all I could feel was the long afterglow... Weakly, I looked over at her as she collapsed on her side, facing me. "Amy," I said, "will you marry me?" Amy smiled and nodded and moments later she was asleep. Typical man... * * * We've had the rings a year now. A few weeks back we made a point of putting flowers on Uncle Brandon's grave on the anniversary of his death. We wanted to thank him for all he'd done. He had a nice site in a leafy cemetery and we wheeled baby Brandon there to see. The rings transformed our lives. After the first few days of experimentation we settled on new, young bodies for ourselves. I was a more muscled and toned version of my lean, youthful self and I loved the masses of energy I now had. It was like a second life and it helped me work and build my illustration business. I'd chosen Amy a slim, lissome figure; long-legged and elegant with a pleasing bosom. 'Nymph-like', I called her. She was now a constant subject for my sketch book. Friends told us how good we looked and asked after our workout program. Most importantly the new body was like a new start for Amy. It was like we'd rewound all those years of hurt and she could live again, healed and whole. We were so very much in love. We enjoyed the rings a lot in the early days. Amy liked to return to the lubricious Varga girl and the nubile gymnast, and I came up with some exciting new ideas for her, just 'doodling' on these themes. It was fun for me to slip into a woman's body whenever I could. I felt so comfortable in the curvy figure Amy had given me. She even dressed me and let me outside, and we'd have some fun together, going dancing or to the beach. We spent one happy afternoon as a beach volleyball pair; all muscle and curves strapped inside our skin-hugging swimsuits. But after that the ring use dwindled, as our new 'normal' bodies had plenty of libido and we occupied and entertained ourselves as we were. There was just less and less need for role playing when we were so hot for each other. The changes halted completely when Amy got pregnant, which I suppose was inevitable given that we'd stopped using protection. We'd been screwing like rabbits for weeks after that first day. The rings simply wouldn't work on Amy while she was carrying the baby. Then there was the wedding to organize, which we managed to keep small and didn't break the bank too much, then the new home, and then the birth and... Well, now there's baby Brandon, who at two months old is demanding attention at all hours and runs us ragged. He's a roguish charmer like his namesake great uncle, which is a blessing given the number of times we've come close to strangling him. Since the birth we both feel permanently exhausted. Friends tell us these early months are the worst, when we are tired and irritable all the time and our marriage is most strained. Nights are terrible. One of us is designated to get up and feed him when he starts crying. When it's my turn to be 'on call' that night, we use the rings to swap bodies. I then go breastfeed Brandon while Amy gets a night's rest. This is no biggie, though. I love nursing the baby. It's a pleasure feeling him suckle me and the endorphins it releases are a natural high. Sometimes we bring him into the bed and I just let him clamp on to a teat while I go to sleep. It's perfectly safe. We are changing so often that I'm sometimes spending whole days as Amy, on baby duty. Amy and I have even gone out while switched and had fun playing games with our family and friends, role playing each other. I'm now getting used to women's clothes and beauty regimes and the mysteries of feminine hygiene. You see, Amy and I trust each other now. Totally, unconditionally. And from that trust comes love, and from that love we now have a family. Now Amy is suggesting I take nine months out in her body and carry our next child. And you know what? I'm thinking about it. Seriously thinking...