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I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as I looked into the wizened, wrinkled face - so old that I imagined cobwebs strewn inside the deep, hollowed eye sockets. The face was laughing at me. Laughing at my anger... laughing at my fear. The laugh itself sounded hollow, like a voice coming out of the bottom of a tomb. "Listen to me," I said, trying to sound threatening. But how threatening could I be now? "Change me back, or I swear, so help me, I'll..." I let my voice trail off. The old woman picked up on it, and with an energy I wouldn't have suspected she was capable, lunged towards me, her face just inches from mine, bathing me in spittle and horrible breath as she hacked mockingly, "YOU'LL DO WHAT?!" She sat back in her seat, still smiling mischievously. "You'll kill me? Is that what you'll do?" A few think whisps of her gray, thin hair had fallen in her eyes, and she reached up with a frail, liver-spotted hand to brush it away. "Go ahead. I've lived too long." "Change me BACK!" I screamed, my shrill voice - so alien to my ears - echoing in the room. She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. She never stopped smiling. "A spell is a spell," she said, holding up her palms in a helpless gesture. "Once it's cast... can't be uncast. The terms of the spell must be fulfilled... but you wouldn't believe that anyway, would you?" She cackled again, and I felt a hot flush over my face. I already knew that this was the reason why she had done this to me: I had mocked her, humiliated her, deeply insulted her sacred beliefs. It had just been me and my buddy Mark, two guys out to have a good time. I was showing off. I'd been a real asshole. But I didn't deserve this. "What terms?" I asked, trying to force myself to be calm. "Tell me what terms!" She reached behind her. The room from which she did her palm reading was absolutely loaded with clutter, most of it typical mystical crap, which I initially thought had all been just for effect. She pulled out a small, hand-carved pipe and a book of matches. While I waited for an answer, she puffed a thick cloud of pipe smoke my way, smiling as she clutched the black step in what was left of her teeth. "Why should I tell you? Why shouldn't I just leave you like this?" "Because you did this to me," I said, my anger rising again, "and you have to change me back!" All of a sudden, I realized that I was defeating my own purpose. Threatening her was getting me nowhere. I deliberately calmed the tone of my voice and tried another approach. "I could pay you..." With that, she threw her head back, laughing so hard that it seemed as though it might kill her, and, indeed, at the end of it, she broke into a coughing fit which made me worry that it might do just that. When she finally recovered, she said, "Money? You think you can buy your way out? Is that what you think, girl?" "I'M NOT A GIRL!" I shouted, pounding the table between us. Once more, she did not flinch, just pounded the table back. "You ARE a girl! You are a girl because I MADE you a girl! You would not believe me! Well maybe you believe me now, eh? Do you trust your own eyes? Your own ears? ANSWER me, girl!" That was when I lost it completely, and I would have lunged at her had Mark's strong arms not held me back. A day earlier, I would have been able to easily pull free of his grasp. Now, I was perhaps a third of what my strength had been, and did little more than struggle helplessly against him. The old woman started laughing again. "Take it easy! Take it easy!" Mark said as I continued to struggle. Mark was just as confused as I was, probably hoping it was all some kind of dream, a delusion brought on by the tequila we had consumed the night before. I calmed down enough for him to let me go, and I shook myself free. The old woman ran her tongue over her dried, cracked lips, as though it had hurt her to smile. "You want me to tell you, girl? I'll tell you. I'll tell you not because I have any sympathy for you, or because you don't deserve what's happening. I'll tell you because I want to see the look on your face when I tell you? Eh?" As absolutely chilling as this prospect, what choice did I have? The old woman leaned forward, bringing her face as close to mine as the table would permit. Instinctively, I backed away, but not far enough to avoid her foul breath as it rasped out of her lungs. "You mocked me," she hissed, "you did your best to belittle and humiliate me. You took pleasure and delight from it." "That's not true," I said. She threw up her hands. "If you're going to lie, then why should I bother?" She stood up to leave. "No, wait!" I said, panicked. "Yes, yes, you're right, I'm sorry. Yes, I did. I took pleasure and delight in humiliating you." She smiled, just a bit more warmly. "Good. You admit what you did. That is a start." Her expression turned angry again. "You must be punished. And I have used all of the magic I have left in me to carry out this punishment." Her voice raised, became more shrill. "Will you doubt the magic now, girl? Will you laugh and call me a fake and a phony now, girl?" I was silent. "ANSWER ME!" she barked. In spite of myself, I was nearly in tears. "No! No, I won't doubt you...not anymore." "Perhaps you are learning," she said, taking another puff from her pipe. "Perhaps not. Time will tell." I waited, not saying anything. "I would have not problem - not give a second thought nor lose a wink of sleep - were you to remain the way you are for the rest of your years. I think it would serve you right." I swallowed hard. I couldn't keep my bottom lip from trembling. "But, as I said earlier, a spell is a spell, and that is not the spell under which I placed you. This spell was to teach you a lesson...to teach you to believe...to be a true believer." "I told you," I said, desperately, "I believe you!" How could I not believe her? That very morning, I woke up to find that the 22-year-old Jim Hutcheson had, impossibly, turned into an attractive 22-year-old woman. That is one hell of a convincing argument." She held up her hand to silence me. "Proof of your sincerity requires a sacrifice...a great sacrifice, one which will test your mettle and your heart." I shook my head, confused. "You are, at this moment, a healthy young woman...healthier, I suspect, than you were as a young man. You are, as you have seen, beautiful. Because of this, the task set before you should prove to be easy...once your heart is into it." I let her continue to speak in riddles, hoping she would make sense to me. Once she did, I almost hoped she didn't. * * * "You ought to go easy with that..." I looked up. Mark was staring at me as I poured out another shot of tequila, my hands shaking so badly that I spilled as much of the potent amber liquid onto the kitchen table as I did in my glass. I was crying. I couldn't remember the last time I cried. Not since I was a kid. I just looked at Mark as I lifted the glass and knocked back another shot, wincing. No salt. No lime. Just tequila and the hope for whatever relief it might bring me. I looked around. Everything seemed just a little bit different in this apartment Mark and I had shared, roommates in a city of high rents and limited opportunities. I realized - eventually - that the differences were the result of the fact that I was just a little bit smaller, and that changed my perspective on everything. Which was appropriate, since so goddamned much had changed. "That shit's not going to help," Mark continued. I shot him an angry stare, and he added, "And I know that it's easy for me to talk..." Actually, it seemed as though it hadn't been easy for Mark to talk. The entire trip back home, he had said almost nothing. Who could blame him? "Maybe," Mark pressed on, "you should just try to go to bed. Get some sleep. Maybe think a little more clearly in the morning, you know?" I poured another drink. Mark didn't say anymore. He shuffled off to his room and closed the door behind him. When the old woman had said, "Have a baby" - the "terms" for ending the spell she had cast upon me, she had said it with such glee in her voice at what she knew would be my reaction, watching as the room started spinning around me and I came close to passing out. I managed to get out a few questions, making sure I had heard her right...but of course I'd heard right the first time. In order to regain who I had been, I had to literally become a mother first. I sputtered and stammered that what she was asking was not possible, which she seemed to enjoy even more. When I saw the delight in those ancient, nearly-dead eyes, I knew that any further argument was useless. Barely able to stand, hanging onto Mark for support, I staggered out of the room and out to the street, where Mark hailed a cab to take us home. Which was where I sat now, getting absolutely hammered. This smaller body reacted strongly to the alcohol, much more strongly than I had in my previous body. I welcomed my drunkenness. I welcomed it to the point where I passed out right there at the kitchen table. "Come on, you've slept too much already." I heard Mark's voice through a haze, turning my head away...which brought on the pain. The pain was >from the massive hangover I was about to experience. I opened my eyes just slightly, to see Mark standing over me, holding a glass of water and some ibuprofen...my typical hangover remedy. I took the pills and water from him. "Thanks..." I managed to get out. "Figured you'd need them." I looked around me. "How did I get to bed last night?" Mark looked a little sheepish. "I carried you," he said. "It was no big deal. You're really...light these days." I swallowed my pills. Finished the glass of water. Almost bitterly, I asked, "Did you cop a feel as you did it?" Reflexively, I looked down. My new breasts were large and firm, and strained against the t-shirt I was wearing. "No," Mark said. "No, of course not." I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the pain. "You should have. Somebody ought to be enjoying this." There was an awkward silence between us. And we both knew why. And we both knew we weren't going to discuss it...not now. "Listen," Mark said finally. "Don't get mad, but I called my sister...and I told her about what's happened to you." I wasn't mad. I was amused. "And what did she say?" "Well, at first, she said I was fucking nuts." "Of course." "But then, I told her all the details, and she started becoming more and more convinced. I told her that we needed her help." Gallant of him, I thought. "We" needed help. "What did she say?" "Well, she's still a little doubtful...but she's coming over. I told her that we'd need to find you some clothes and stuff. She's bringing some things over. I don't know if you two are the same size or anything. I don't know much about girls' clothes." "Neither do I," I added. It sounded desperate. I needed to use the bathroom, then take a shower, and I did both reluctantly, deliberately avoiding any unnecessary exploration of my new body. It wasn't especially easy, of course. By the time I got out and slipped into my favorite - and now hugely oversized - terrycloth robe, Mark's sister Cheryl had arrived. I always liked Cheryl, and the only reason I hadn't tried to date her in the past was out of my friendship to Mark. She was a gorgeous blonde, but more than that, she was the sweetest person I'd ever met. The moment she saw me, she ran up and hugged me. "You poor thing..." she said, sincerely. "Mark told me what happened. Do you feel all right?" I assured her that I felt fine - and physically, this was definitely true. I felt better than I had in years. I repeated whatever details Mark might have given her from a first person perspective. I also dropped the bomb on her about the only way I could change back. Cheryl shook her head, drinking all this in. "Is that what you want to do? Have a baby?" she asked. "Hell no," I answered. "What I want is to change back. Unfortunately, the two seem to be connected for me." "This is just wrong," Cheryl said. "I mean, it's not fair. What about the baby? What will happen to it? What about...you know, legal things? How can you be admitted to a hospital without identification? There's just so much to think about." "You mean, like, who's going to fuck me?" I asked bitterly, the tears beginning to fall again. I was turning into a regular crybaby. Cheryl rested her hand on my shoulder at first, and then hugged me again so that I could cry on her shoulder. * * * Cheryl made a few guesses as to my size. I'd refused to drop my robe for her and it was so bulky that she had a hard time getting a good fix on what would fit me. She had brought a small suitcase of clothes with her, and dug around for the right things. I cringed when she handed me a pair of panties, although I should have known it was coming. "We might have a problem with you wearing my bras," she said. "You're a lot bigger up top than I am, so it's going to be a tight squeeze. But you're going to need the support." I tried to get over the embarrassment of dealing with this, but it only became easier when Cheryl made Mark leave the apartment. That was when Cheryl made me take off the robe so that she could get some idea of what she was doing. "After all," she said with a wink, obviously trying to make me feel better, "we're all just girls here!" She was right about the bra being a tight fit. It dug into the skin of my back and shoulders, and my tits bulged out of the smallish cups. "We'll go shopping and get you some proper-fitting bras soon, okay?" she said. "Let's see what else we have here for you." We determined that none of Cheryl's pants or jeans were going to fit, but she did have a skirt with her, which she had me try on with a blouse. "Not too bad," she said. She gave me a bright smile and said, "How about some make-up? You've got a beautiful face. You just need to accent it a little bit." I told her thank you, but no. I didn't want to deal with it for the moment. "That's okay. Eventually, you're going to have to, you know, when you have to start dealing with the outside world..." That made me shudder. "What I'll do," she continued, "is I'll look through my closets back home. Now that I know what you can wear, I can gather together a little wardrobe for you for now, until you can start buying your own things. How's that?" I thanked her again. * * * There was an entire realm of logistics which had to be taken care of over the next week or so. My income was still secure. As a freelance writer, working from home, there almost wouldn't be any change at all, so I was covered there. As for identification, Mark turned to the guy who used to make us fake IDs back when we were underage and trying to get into clubs. He would help. It wasn't going to get me everything I needed, but it was a start. That left beginning to put the rest of my new life together. And I wasn't going to fool myself into thinking it would be easy. Cheryl was an enormous help. True to her word, she brought me enough clothes to get by, mainly stretchy skirts and tops which would fit all right. She even saved me the embarrassment of going out before I was ready by doing some shopping for me, buying me some underwear, although I cringed at the lacy, feminine choices she made for me. That week, she talked me into allowing her to make me up, instructing me on the finer points of applying the stuff as she did it. The first time I saw myself in make-up, I almost cried. I truly was beautiful, and for some reason, that struck me as being...I don't know, so final for some reason. Of course, I didn't want it to be final...which meant another big issue had to be dealt with, too. We were watching television at the apartment - Cheryl was over, as she was most nights now, and had just cooked us an excellent dinner - when, out of the blue, Mark said, "I'll do it...if you want." Neither of us knew what he was talking about at first. We just stared at him. "The baby," he clarified. "I'll be the father...if you want." I know I blushed once I realize what he meant. "I mean," Mark continued, "I'm partially to blame for what happened. I egged it on. I was the one who was laughing. It wouldn't be right for you to have to go out and...you know, find some guy or anything." This was unbelievably awkward, for all of us. I wondered how Mark felt, saying these things in front of Cheryl. Fortunately, she stayed as level-headed as always about it. "Well," she said, patting my hand, "if you're serious about trying to break the spell, this might be a good way to do it, if for no other reason than it means we wouldn't have to bring anyone else in on this." Even though she made sense, this was more than I could handle at the moment, and I said as much. We dropped the subject, but, as you can imagine, the idea wasn't dropped. Now I had a million more things to think about, including exactly how Mark was seeing me these days. I couldn't ignore the fact that the poor guy was now living with an attractive woman. Surely, even though he knew what was in my mind, he couldn't help but looking. I'm sure I would have. Then there were the thoughts swimming around in my head. These are hard to explain. I knew that there had been many subtle changes in my personality - the crying was proof enough of that. But now came mood swings, and strange, alien thoughts...distinctly feminine thoughts. And perhaps what bothered me the most about Mark's offer to father my baby was the fact that it triggered off a whole set of thoughts which were certainly not thoughts my former self would have. More than just curiosity, I was plagued with genuine sexual desire...female desire. I did my best to deny it to myself, but in the end, I had to accept the situation. It was as though my mind was changing to match my body. It was just slower to catch up. Mark had not mentioned his offer since the first time he brought it up. I'm sure he was embarrassed about even mentioning it now. That meant that I was the one who was now going to have to come to him. I didn't have a clue as to how to approach it. Or, to be honest, even if I should. Since I found myself turning to Cheryl more and more for advice - she was becoming my "big sister" in more ways than one - I turned to her for advice on this subject, too. She surprised me with her thoughtfulness and wisdom. "I couldn't tell you whether it's a good idea or not," she admitted. "I mean, on the surface, it sounds good...I worry about Mark hooking up with the wrong kind of girl. He can be a little bit headstrong at times, and I always thought his tastes in women have been pretty bad over the years." I laughed. I agreed with her. "I know you - and, actually, I've gotten to know you a lot better since...well, you know. You're the kind of person I think would do Mark some good...in a weird kind of way, all things considered." She sighed. "But it's not nearly as simple as that. You want a baby...or, more exactly, you need a baby, to get back to who you were. What does that mean nine or ten months down the road? If you do have a baby, what happens to it if you do change back. What happens to Mark? What happens if you two should happen to do something as crazy as fall in love? Have you thought about these things?" "Some of them," I admitted. Some of them, thought, I had not. "I'm really afraid, Cheryl. Part of me thinks I'm losing my mind..." Of course, I wasn't losing my mind. I was, I soon discovered, going through my first bout of PMS. As with all things female which I now had to deal with, Cheryl helped me with that, too, and the whole nasty episode just helped to drive home the point of who I now was. Unfortunately, the question of what would happen hung over Mark's and my head from that point on. Our "buddy" relationship collapsed in on itself, replaced with this strange, twisted sexual tension. At the time, Mark was still dating a girl named Beth. I'd never really cared for Beth, but never said anything to Mark. It was his choice, and, as Cheryl and I often discussed, Mark's choices were exclusively his own. The problem was that having me living at the apartment definitely put a cramp in Mark's style where it came to Beth, who, naturally, could not be brought to the apartment. There was no question that she wouldn't be able to handle my presence there. It came as no surprise, therefore, when Mark came home one night to tell me that he and Beth had split up. I was genuinely torn. I was still sympathetic towards Mark's feelings, but deep down, I knew that he was much better off. Even if he knew this, though, it didn't make him feel any better about it. He wanted to get drunk, and I was there to help him through it, just as we had been there with each other many times before. This time, of course, things were a little different. After a few drinks, he opened up about how he knew that losing Beth was good for him, and that he just had to get used to her not being around. I did what I could to reassure him, let him get as drunk as he wanted, and hoped that he would pass out quickly. That was when he surprised me by asking, "So, have you thought about what I said the other day?" I just blinked and pretended I didn't know what he was talking about. "What?" "You know. The other day. About me...you know. The baby....thing. Have you thought about it?" "It's pretty much all I've thought about." "So what have you been thinking?" I sighed. I took the bottle and poured myself a drink, downing it before I answered. I knew I had to be careful. My new body didn't handle alcohol anywhere near as well as my old one did. "The truth," I started, "is that I'm scared. I don't know what to think. I mean, bottom line here, I know that this is real, right? I know I'm stuck like this unless...maybe unless I do what the old woman said I had to do. Will that change me back? Who the hell knows? If I do change back, what happens to the baby? What will it mean...you know...for...us? Nine months. At least nine months. How are you going to think of me after...well, after something like thi-...shit, many, I don't know what the hell I'm even saying. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. That's the answer, Mark. That's the only answer, and I don't have anything else to even say about it." We sat in silence that I found impossible to tolerate. "What are your thoughts on the subject?" I asked, if for no other reason than just to break the silence. Mark took another drink. From the cloudiness of his eyes, I new he was well on the way to being shitfaced. "I've thought about it a lot...but not in the way it sounds." "What does that mean?" I asked. "I mean...I mean, ever since you changed, I've been thinking about you. You know...sexually." I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, my god..." "I don't know if it's part of the spell or whatever. Might be, I don't know. But...I don't know, there's no other way to say it. I got the hots for you. I don't know whether it's because I know you so well, and know that you wouldn't stab me in the back like Beth did...I just don't know. But that's the way it is." I couldn't help but chuckle. "You've got to pull yourself together, dude!" "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You're hot. You really are. And, like, the other day, when you were just kicking back...remember? You were wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, just like you used to? Only you don't look just like you used to. Jesus Christ, your tits were just...incredible. I couldn't believe it." I couldn't believe what he was saying. Or maybe I could. The thing is, while I was - understandably - freaking out about what I was hearing, at the same time, I couldn't help but being enormously turned on by the idea that Mark had been thinking about me in this way. Staring at my tits, for Christ's sake! And obviously, that was just the tip of the iceberg. He had to be thinking about this a lot. Thinking about...fucking me. I still couldn't reconcile it in my head, which was, by now, swimming with the alcohol. "I mean, you would have felt the same way, man, back when you...well, you know, back when you were who you were," Mark continued. "A hot chick running around the apartment. You'd be thinking the same thing and you know it!" "I'm not pissed off about it, Mark," I told him. He looked up. "You're not?" I shook my head. "No, I'm not pissed. Just a little...confused." "What are you confused about?" I thought about my answer for a minute. "I'm confused because I'm NOT pissed off about it. Because it's...I don't know, okay that you feel this way. What I guess I'm wondering now is...well do you just want to fuck me because I'm some...hot chick...or because you know that this hot chick is ME, is your friend." Now it was his turn to think things over. "Maybe both." My heart was pounding in my chest now, and I swallowed hard. "Do you want to see what it would be like?" "You mean...?" I nodded. "Yeah. What it would be like to fuck me?" I couldn't believe that he hesitated a few moments. "Yes. I'd like to." "What are we going to tell Cheryl?" "Do we have to tell her?" "I think so." "Well, she's been pushing for it anyway, hasn't she?" "Kind of." "Then she'll be happy." "You know, Cheryl did give me this great little nightgown to wear. I was wondering why she gave it to me, because I don't think I'd ever be able to actually sleep in it. It's really...out there. You want to see it on me?" Mark smiled. There was real lust in his smile. "I'd like that a lot." "Okay," I said, finishing off one final drink. "Give me a minute. I'll be right back." I'll admit, I wasn't one hundred percent steady on my feet as I got up to walk to my bedroom, and that I wasn't one hundred percent clear of mind as the butterflies churned in my stomach as I contemplated what I was about to do. There was one small part of me, I suppose, that was appalled that I wasn't running away in terror at the prospect, and even looking back on that moment, its amazing just how...well, female I was thinking and feeling. I justified everything, of course, with the fact that one way or another I was going to have to do this to get back to where I was. The real truth, however, was that I was as excited as a bride on her wedding night, which, in a strange kind of way, I really was. The nightgown Cheryl had given me had, unquestionably, been a joke, which had, apparently, been given to her as a joke as well. It was a short, scarlet baby-doll number in scarlet lace, with lots of spaces of almost transparent mesh. (I know I'm not doing a great job describing it; I'm still learning some of this girl stuff...) It came with matching panties and stockings with garters...bottom line was that it was completely outrageous...outrageously sexy. And not particularly comfortable, I soon discovered, as I stripped and pulled myself into it. The lace was a bit scratchy, it was the first time I had worn thong panties, and the way the top was designed, they squeezed my tits into what looked like two grapefruits, with a deep cleavage in between. Actually, as I studied myself in the mirror, I looked incredible. I couldn't wait to see Mark's reaction! I took some time to touch up my make-up, which I'd been practicing now for several days. I had come to the conclusion that if I was going to keep my business going, I was going to have to meet clients as my new self, and I wasn't so stupid as to not realize that a sexy, well-made-up female was bound to improve sales! Once I was fully dolled up, I took a deep breath and gave myself one final look-over in the mirror. That was when the ridiculousness of the situation hit me, and - don't laugh - for just a minute, I thought I would faint. What was happening to me? Who was I? Did any part of the person I once was still exist? Who was I now? The gnawing in my stomach might have tempted me to back out of what I was about to do, but I realized that I had already committed myself, that Mark was awaiting my arrival...and a lot more. There was nothing I could do but take one more deep breath, fluff my hair (oh, dear God...) and step into the living room. Not to use a clich?, but his jaw actually dropped, and gaped open as I demurely walked across the living room floor to stand in front of him. "Jesus Christ," he said in a half-whisper. "What do you think?" I asked with a shy smile. "Like what you see?" "I wouldn't have believed it..." he said, shaking his head. "And...that's really you...inside...isn't it?" I don't know why he felt he had to bring that up. "It's really me." For a moment, we were both frozen there. I felt my nipples stiffen in the air conditioning, and I was very much aware of a wetness between my legs. I felt his eyes traveling over me, drinking me in, and felt a distinct thrill of feminine pride in the knowledge that, yes, he damned well had to have liked what he saw. "Are you going to just sit there?" I asked him teasingly. "Come over here." He didn't have to be asked twice. He stood up and began to approach. My stomach leapt as he drew near, with an intoxicating mixture of fear and excitement. There was, of course, no turning back now, even if I wanted to. He drew nearer still, near enough for me to draw in his scent. It gave me chills, in a way which was entirely animal in nature. Very soon, we were close enough to touch. I don't think I could have made that first move even if I wanted to. I did want to. But I was rooted to the spot, waiting, lamb to the slaughter, dying to know where he would first make contact. My breasts swelled inside their confines, nipples pointed directly at him, tempting him, drawing him in, waiting, aching to be touched. He opened his arms and wrapped his small hands around my sides, just above my hips, drawing me into him. I lay my face against his chest, breathing him in deeply as I felt his hands run up and down my back. He shifted his hips so that our bodies came together, and that was when I felt it: his hard cock pressing against the side of my hip. Once more, chills: that was because of me. He reached up with his right hand and tilted my chin until I was looking up into his eyes. There was no mistaking the meaning in them. They practically screamed, "I want to fuck you." I wondered whether my eyes were telling him how badly - how achingly badly now - I wanted to be fucked. Wanted to be fucked by him. I guess they did, because he leaned down to kiss me, and I closed my eyes and allowed his hot lips to seek out mine. They made no resistance to his tongue as he snaked it past them to find mine, digging into my mouth as he pulled me even closer to him, his right hand dipping down to slide over the soft curve of my ass, then stop to squeeze it tightly, pushing my crotch into him. I moaned aloud as my clit was brushed against the lace of my panties, pressed against his thigh. It was a sensation so powerful that I instinctively knew that, whatever was going to happen in the next few minutes, I would be in control of very little. We kissed for a few minutes. It could have been a few hours for all I knew. What I did know was that my body was pulsing and alive. Every slight move of my hips reminded me of how wet I was between my legs, and reminded me of exactly why I was wet. Receptive for him. My God, was this really happening? Mark moved his body back slightly, just enough so that he could reach up and slide the right strap of my nightgown down over my shoulder. He had to actually tug a little at the material to get it past the nipple of my breasts - that lace scraping over my sensitive bud made me shudder more than enough for him to feel it. I felt a flush of self-consciousness as I saw him looking down at my poor exposed nipple, crinkled and hard, and begging for attention. He brushed his rough hand against it, and this time, I gasped and went weak at the knees. Jesus, I thought. If just being touched can do this to me, what's it going to be like when he...? I didn't get a chance to finish the question in my head before he ducked his head down and took my nipple between his lips, and I let out a long moan which I absolutely could not control, my breath becoming faster and more shallow. I needed to sit down or I was going to collapse, and somehow, he sensed this, because he gingerly guided me to the couch. He sat me down and placed himself beside me. I didn't even notice that the way he positioned us, my left leg was draped over his, opening me up wide to him. I'd practically forgotten that Mark prided himself as an expert cocksman, and that I was about to be on the receiving end of a lot of experience. I couldn't wait. Mark was sitting low enough so that my exposed boob was inches away from his face, and he began to suckle at the nipple. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he soon had my eyes closed, my sighs hissing in my ears. It felt like a like of electric shocks, shooting straight from my nipple down between my legs. I needed to be touched there so, so badly, and Mark instinctively seemed to know this, because I quickly felt the hairs on his forearm brushing the inside of my thigh before feeling the pressure of his fingertips on the rough crotch of my panties. I actually grunted and pushed my hips forward to press against his fingers, and when I felt the sensational rush that gave me, I did it again, and again, until I was literally humping his hand. I felt myself building. Sweet Jesus, was he going to make me come just >from that? He bit my nipple, hard enough for me to feel it, and I cried out as I felt a jolt run through my body. I was out of control now, breathing hard, moaning. I heard myself say, "Make me come, Mark," even though my mind had given no instructions to say it. Mark was eager to comply. He tugged aside the thin crotch of my panties, and I felt the cool chill as my very wet pussy came in contact with the air. Then the tip of Mark's finger ran a slick line from my clit (I jumped!) down to dip into my slick lips like butter, and I began to shudder, crying out to God or Jesus or whomever could hear me. Mark withdrew his finger, slick and wet now, and moved it back up to my clit, where he began drawing slow, lazy circles around the swollen bud. To say that I'd never experienced anything even remotely so pleasurable doesn't come close to explaining the way it felt. It was like I totally melted away from reality, washed away by waves of pleasure as Mark played me like a violin. I was only vaguely aware that I was practically screaming, thrashing around on the couch as Mark continued his efforts until...I came. What an understatement. It was like my entire life flowed out of me for those intense few moments before returning slowly. I held on to Mark's arm for dear life as he stopped manipulating me, mercifully allowing me to recover myself. It was only then that I noticed that the entire room smelled like sex, and that it was all me! It took a long time for my breathing to settle down. Mark was patient, holding onto me, kissing my neck lightly as I recovered. I could only imagine how wanton I must have looked, all twisted up on the couch, my legs wide open, panties pushed aside, pussy dripping wet. My god. My god. I could barely move, my muscles were so tensed, yet I was perfectly relaxed. Mark had to literally move me, to lay me back on the couch. There was nothing I could say. I just smiled at him, and he smiled back. But he had a lot to say in his smile and in his eyes. He was ready for the main event. He stood up from the couch, looking down at me, and lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Mark was in excellent shape, and I was in the right frame of mind to appreciate the shape he was in. As I gazed up at him, all but drooling, there wasn't a male thought in my entire soul. I was all woman. As if to prove the point, Mark swept his jeans and underwear to the floor in one motion. The emotional reaction I had to his cock, purple and hard and less than two feet from my steaming eyes, was one hundred percent female, to be sure. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to kiss it. Yes, yes, yes, I wanted it in my mouth. And I wanted it in my pussy. My pussy. It didn't even seem strange to think in those terms. He just stood there, waiting to see what I'd do next. What I did, I think, helped prove to him that what we were doing wasn't wrong, wasn't sick or perverse. It was a man and a woman discovering each other. In spite of my aching stomach muscles, I sat forward, so that his cock was brushing against my lips. I inhaled deeply. The smell was wonderful. I looked up at him, and asked, "Is this what you want?" Mark smiled at me. "Yes." "Tell me." "This is what I want. Suck my cock..." That was all I needed. I think a lot of cocksucking comes naturally to a woman, because it really seemed to come naturally to me as I took him as deeply into my mouth as I could. It was tricky, keeping from gagging, but I worked at it, looking up at him as often as I could, trying to gauge his reaction, trying to do everything right. This was another turning point for me, I suppose. Realistically, the sole reason we were doing any of this was to get me pregnant. And yet, here I was, putting my heart and soul into giving Mark the sweetest blowjob I was capable of, and wanting, very much now, to make him come in my mouth. What was that all about? After a few minutes of my enthusiastic cocksucking, Mark put his hand on my head and eased himself off of my mouth. I looked up, breathing heavily, my jaw wonderfully sore, and said, "Don't you want to come in my mouth?" He smiled, but shook his head. "Not this time." "You want to fuck me?" He nodded. "Let's go to the bedroom..." * * * Ever since my first period, I knew that I had been "transformed" as a virgin, and so there was a little anxiety as I lie on Mark's bed, naked, legs open to him, waiting to be taken for the first time. But I was overcome with lust, dripping wet, and panting with desire. Nothing could have stopped me, and nothing was going to stop Mark as he climbed on top of me, kissing my neck and breasts as he grabbed my hand and directed it to his cock. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to guide it into me, which I did gladly, rubbing the head of his dick against my slick lips, lining him up. I thought - momentarily - of that old clich? "Be gentle with me..." right before he tore into me with one mighty thrust of his hips. I screamed from the intense pain and clung to him tightly. Jesus, he could have warned me. Before I could recover, he pulled halfway out of me and then rammed himself back inside. The pain was a little less, but not by much. Not that it mattered. He immediately started plowing away, full speed, hitting me with so much physical sensation at one time that the pain just got blurred away. All I was really aware of was Mark, hovering over me, a look of determination on his face as he rammed into me, shoving me forward with each thrust, the top of my head pounding against the headboard of the bed, and my tits bouncing up into my face. I reached up and grabbed my bouncing boobs just to keep them still - which was actually a move of discovery, since I had no idea the pinching my own nipples while getting my brains fucked out could be such a thrill. I was just getting my bearings - and the pain had just about subsided - Mark raised himself up straight, pulled out of me (what a momentarily empty feeling that was!), then grabbed my hip with his strong hand and flipped me over hard onto my stomach. Before I could even react, he had grabbed both of my hips with his hands and yanked my ass up into the air. I wasn't even ready as he lined himself up and thrust back into me, starting up a wild, fast rhythm which jammed my face into the pillow, muffling my screams of pleasure as the first orgasm ripped through me. I needed to stop, didn't think I could go on, but there was no stopping Mark now, ramming me so hard that loud smacking sounds reverberated through the room as his thighs smacked against my ass. Before too long, he turned me over again, grabbing my ankles and doubling me in two, pounding the breath out of me, making my head spin and sparkly stars dance in front of my eyes until I heard him grunt and groan like an animal, and I knew he couldn't hold out any longer. With one final, monsterous thrust, he gasped and collapsed on top of me as he filled me with his seed. Oh...my...god.... Later that night, after we'd both passed out from exhaustion, I was awoken in the middle of the night by what I realized with Mark's thumb tracing a lazy circle around my nipple as he lay behind me, spooned into my back. The sensation immediately began to arouse me, and when I shifted involuntarily, I felt Mark's cock, rock hard and ready to go, resting between the cheeks of my ass. All it took was a slight shift of my hips to get him lined up to slide inside me...and we were off again. And then, that morning, as the sunlight in my eyes caused me to awaken, I looked down at Mark, sleeping soundly, and was overcome with a devilish idea. I slipped down beneath the sheet that was covering him, carefully, as not to wake him, until my head was at the level of his hips. The sun shone brightly through the sheets so that I could so plainly see his darling cock, all tiny and calm now. The smell of our mingled sexes was powerful, and I inhaled deeply as I hovered my face close to him, his pubic hairs tickling my chin. I opened my lips and was able to take his entire cock into my mouth. I just held it there, savoring its texture and taste, breathing in his scent. I thought I could just stay like that forever. But I couldn't. I couldn't resist beginning to suckle lightly at him, and it was enough to stir him awake. I felt his hand rest on the back of my head through the sheet, and that was when I felt his cock begin to pulse and grow. "Good morning to you too," he sighed, sleepily. I didn't speak. All I was focused on was his cock, which had now grown to the point where I couldn't keep it all in my mouth. I began moving slowly up and down, pursing my lips tightly around his shaft, moving my tongue back and forth with each stroke. It was a challenge to me to see just how deep I could take him, and it was tough to keep from gagging as the thick head touched the back of my throat. I listened to his breathing, his sighs. It was the sweetest music in the world. He reached for my shoulder and began gently urging me away, and I guessed that what he wanted to do was roll me over so that he could fuck me. But I had other plans. It's strange, but the idea of allowing Mark to come in my mouth seemed even more of a step towards womanhood than being fucked. This was...I don't know, somehow even more deliberate. I was taking him with my mouth, giving him pleasure with no concern towards my own. And there was absolutely no question that when he came - I was guessing it was going to be soon - that I would swallow every drop he had to give me, gladly. I picked up my pace, and at the same time began stroking his shaft with my hand as I bobbed up and down. My jaw began to ache from being distended for so long, and my neck muscles were threatening to cramp from the repetitive motion, but I wasn't going to give up now. I could hear his moaning, feel a trembling in his thighs, and there was not way I was going to stop until... He didn't give me any warning. He didn't come in spurts. Instead, it was like my mouth began to fill with his indescribable-tasting semen. I had to pull my head back a little; I couldn't swallow with his cock so deep into my mouth. I held my lips pursed around the head as he emptied his balls into my mouth. His spasms slowed, then stopped, and I held his cum in my mouth until I was sure his orgasm was over, and then let it slide down my throat with a soft gurgle. Afterwards, I let his cock slip from my lips - it was already softening - and kissed my way up his chest until I was snuggled up against him, smiling. "Wanna taste your cum?" I asked him with a mischievous grin, moving my face close enough for a kiss. "Uh, no thank you," he said, sheepishly, realizing the inherent unfairness in it all: in one way, we were equals, and yet I had just swallowed a load of his come. But I let him off the hook. "How about breakfast, then?" He smiled at me. "Only if you cook it wearing that nightgown of yours." "With or without panties?" "With...for now." * * * Cheryl was a little uneasy, I think, listening to my tales of her brother's sexual prowess, but she listened like the indulgent older sister she had become to me. I'm sure she didn't want to know about the size of Mark's cock, or how his come tasted, or him waking me up in the middle of the night wedged into my butt, but she smiled indulgently as I recounted the stories. More than anything else, though, I think she was studying me, trying to figure out just how much of a woman I had become...in my mind, rather than in my body. "You talk like you're in love," she said, and I saw her watching carefully for my reaction. "I don't know about that," I said, trying to laugh off the fact that I had to be blushing. "It's like a brand new world of discovery, like I'm living an entirely different life, and that life is full of wonders and surprises." "What about Mark? How does he feel?" I shrugged. "I can't be sure, I guess. If nothing else, right now he's probably just glad that he's got a nypho to share his bed with." "I'm sure it's more than that. After all, you were such good friends..." "I'm sure that's part of it too," I agreed. "How far do you think this is going to go?" I shrugged. The question sideswiped me a little bit. "I don't know how far it can go," I told her. "I mean, I know that right now, I'm not in the right mind to make any kind of lasting decision. And I'm sure Mark isn't, either. It's all too much to digest." "You still thinking about getting pregnant?" I shrugged again. "That's another thing I'm not sure about. It's like, if I spent nine months carrying a baby just to become a man again, by that time, what if I'm happy and contented as a woman? What if I don't want to change back? And if I do have to change back, what about the baby? I mean, I have no illusions whatsoever that Mark might be perfectly content with me as long as I've got a hot body, great tits, and a nice pussy, but that things would be very, very different if I was the way I was two weeks ago." "Have you practiced any birth control?" I smiled sheepishly. "No. And we probably won't." "This is pretty complicated." "You're telling me," I answered. "You know that, whatever happens, I'm there for you, right?" I reached over and hugged her. "Thanks. I know you are." We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us completely lost in thought. Finally, she broke the ice: "Are you going to breast feed?" We both broke into relieved laughter. I reached down and cupped my breasts. "With these tits? How could I not?" Deep down, I wondered whether I would really have to make that decision... TO BE CONTINUED