Consequences: Part One free porn video

The apartment door creaked open and Rachel threw her shoulder-bag across the room where it landed on the couch with a thump. "What a long fucking day," she said, to nobody in particular. A recent college graduate, the young woman lived alone in a cramped studio apartment. Her own little shoebox. Of the three tiny windows that ran along the opposite wall, only one could be forced open. A pathetic breeze came in, along with the sounds and smells of the city. Car horns, heels on concrete, untended garbage. Rachel stretched her arms over her head revealing the pale skin of her slim waist and the flash of some tiny jewel dangling from a loop in her pierced navel. Her friends said the piercing was tacky. Rachel loved it. Let them all get their ironic tattoos. After a quick call to the local Chinese Restaurant, Rachel settled down to take back whatever was left of her miserable day. That meant no phone-calls, no texting, no internet. Just her and some guilty pleasure food and some guilty pleasure tv. An hour later she sat on the couch with the remote in her hand flipping idly through the 16 channels that came through. Her other hand rested on her startlingly full belly. "God, I can't believe I ate so much," she said, again to her empty apartment, before belching louder than one might expect such a girl capable of. "Classy," she admonished herself. Rachel then burst into laughter. 'No wonder you're single,' she thought to herself and soon grew bored, bored, bored. She idly thought whether this was what it felt like when one went crazy. Certainly normal people didn't talk to themselves or laugh at their own bodily functions. Rachel then had an idea on how she might further enliven her otherwise dull evening. In the bathroom she stopped the drain and began to draw a bath. The tub itself took up practically the entire room. While sitting on the toilet she could reach well into the damn thing. A little bubble bath solution, a candle or three, and her portable radio sitting on the toilet tank playing indie rock. Perfect. She stripped out of her tight fitting low-rise jeans, red marks where the denim had pinched her skin stood out around her waist. She slumped and pushed her belly out, feeling the skin stretch. "My little Asian noodle child," She said, rubbing her stomach in mock motherhood. She then kicked off her socks and hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties. As the bubbles multiplied in the tub she tugged her shirt up and over her head, messing up her hair which she had painstakingly parted to one side. Rachel worked the clasp of her non-descript black bra, fussing between her shoulder-blades before her eye-pleasing 'C' cup breasts jiggled free. The envy of her friends, her sister, every flat-chested girl she stood next to on the train. Rachel hadn't ever asked to be so well- endowed and none of the women in her family had been blessed as she had. Granted 'C's might not be the biggest size out there, but projecting from her petite ribcage... they definitely drew the eye. Naked at last she tip-toed her way into the water which welcomed her with open foaming arms. Halfway across the country Brad had absolutely nothing to do. His live- in girlfriend of two years, Sara, was on a mini-tour of the West Coast supporting her most recent publication. A young adult novel with vampires or werewolves or whatever was trendy this month. He had to give her credit though, he didn't envy doing book-signings, schmoozing, that sort of thing. Sara wouldn't be home for at least 3 more days. Planted on the couch, having drunk a few beers, Brad's mind began to go where all the minds of men do when they've been away from their loved one for over a week and are bored. To sex. He looked around the room as if to spy out anyone who might be watching and took one last pull from his beer. Back on the East Coast, Rachel was starting to unwind. The tenseness slowly drained out of her muscles, and with it went her accumulated frustrations. She grew relaxed and as she did during most baths, Rachel began to masturbate. Her searching fingers crept down under the thick bubbles and parted her lips. She lightly rubbed her clit before her mind wandered to thoughts of... her sister's boyfriend? This wasn't exactly new, but the fantasies never made her feel particularly good about herself, either. After all he was out of bounds. The only guy in the entire world (who was not a blood relation) who she couldn't willfully fuck. Naturally this made her even more excited about the possibility, real or imagined. In her head it was Christmas Eve, and the whole family was over at Rachel's parents place in the mountains including you know who. She skillfully maneuvered her target away from everyone and sequestered a closet for the express purpose of fucking him senseless. Rachel's fingers rubbed furiously. Deep inside her something began to happen. Brad barely bothered to grab a Kleenex from the box on the end table before unzipping his fly and pulling out his dick. Normally he would have walked over and parked himself in front of the computer for this sort of activity, but today he was feeling oddly interested in one person and one person only. A person he really ought not to be thinking of with his dick in his hand. His girlfriend's hot-ass younger sister. Now it was pretty reasonable to suspect Brad might find his girlfriend's little sister attractive. After all she shared the same basic genetics as the person he found suitable enough to live with let alone date. And, although he would never ever admit this to Sara, Little Sis had the edge in just about every quantifiable category. Younger by 3 years at a feisty 22. Taller by an inch or two, yet lighter by a few pounds and significantly more busty. Their faces were nearly identical, but the slight upturned nose that Rachel had... it just drove him crazy. Brad didn't use Sara's sister in his fantasies too often, but this wasn't the first time. Before Brad knew it he was mere moments away from climax. Rachel's chest began to rise and fall as her breath grew deep and quick. The calm layer of white bubbles in the tub swelled up and down. Far away in her parent's closet, Brad was giving her the business, pinning her against the wall, plunging inside her, impossibly large, nobody was that big. But of course he wasn't hurting her, well, not much anyways. And yes, Rachel was getting close. It usually took her half an hour to get this worked up. Sometimes 45 minutes. Like most young women, Rachel was had a slow burn. But something about this fantasy, the wrongness of it perhaps, was speeding things up. Her eyes were already shut tight. Now she bit down on her thin lower lip and whimpered like an injured animal. In his modest Midwest apartment Brad was coming too, but something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He had let go, well, not let go as in released his hand from his junk or anything but let go as in he should have shot his load neatly into the tissue. He'd done this a thousand times, no fuss, no muss. Instead there was nothing, nothing was coming out and there was no pleasure, merely mounting pressure from within. Brad continued to move his hand up and down and discovered his dick was not quite as long though it wasn't exactly going limp. It was still stiff as ever just smaller and getting smaller all the time. Not only was it shrinking but it was becoming even more sensitive. Mind locked in anticipation of that flood of joy from his eventual orgasm, Brad barely understood the disconcerting news his hand was telling him. But by now more and more troubling sensations were starting to creep in the corners of his mind. His joints creaked and popped even though he was sitting still. His skin crawled all over his body, loose in places, far too tight in others, an unfamiliar softness throughout. His muscles ached and quivered. With his eyes tightly closed, Brad's face twitched, and the hair on his head felt heavy and dense. And all the while the prick in his hand grew smaller until he could barely stroke it between the tip of his finger and thumb. But the feeling! It was incredible. And more incredible each passing second. Brad barely noticed as his balls briefly got in the way before being sucked into a hidden cavity between his legs with two disgusting pops. Then it was just his tiny member poking out, the insane pressure ramped up to an impossible pitch, Brad was finally going to come and this time it would be different than all of the orgasms he had ever enjoyed in his lifetime. His fingers followed his shrinking sex organ into a deepening cleft between his legs as his hips shifted wider underneath him. Finally, Brad came, and somehow, from deep inside wherever they were, his balls released one last time. In just a few more seconds they would no longer be able to produce sperm as they tunneled their way up inside Brad's transforming plumbing to become something new. But right now a warm, sticky fluid dribbled out around Brad's fingers, incapable of shooting out as it once would. And so much of it, all of it, everything he had, most of which leaked deeper inside as Brad's body reshaped itself for entirely different purposes. Needless to say his mind was stunned by the unbelievable combination orgasm, with the intensity of the male and the duration of the female. Rachel knew her time had come and readied herself, free hand gripping the edge of the tub, toes about to clench the far side. And when the first wave crested and should have crashed, filling her lower body with that rubbery warmth, it paused, as if waiting for something to fall into place. Her fingers never stopped moving but something didn't feel right. She had been this excited plenty of times in the past, but never had her clit felt so... swollen. Yet other things were nagging what few parts of her brain still functioned through haze of lust. Unlike Brad, whose transformation began from the outside, her metamorphosis had started from within and was well underway by this point, invisible to the naked eye. Rachel felt like she was too dense, too heavy, too tall, like she was pressing her feet too hard against the back wall of the tub. Her upper back and shoulders pressed roughly against the opposite side and her muscles felt tense and terribly strong. Her bones had an itchy feeling, like they were knitting together after being broken, growing longer and thicker, and even though she couldn't see it under the foam, hair had begun to creep up her lower belly and all down her thighs. Odd squelching noises sounded from her abdomen as her innards pushed lower on their eventual path to become 'outards.' Her clit was now so large that it stuck out of her increasingly shallow vagina, but Rachel couldn't have cared less, it felt too good to touch it, especially toward the tip. The tie in her hair came undone as the hair itself became too short and Rachel's chest rose up out of the bubbles, flat and sexless. By now something was crowding her fingers in her closing slit and just before it got too tight and sealed up, out popped what were once her ovaries, now entirely overhauled and re-purposed. Hair quickly covered them as they fell away, hanging from her body under the water. Rachel's clit rapidly became a full grown cock and she tilted her hips upward, raising her new equipment through the foam. It released then, though there was nothing manufactured yet to shoot out. Even still Rachel succumbed to the most intense orgasm she had ever known. It reverberated down to the furthest reaches of her still growing body. It had an intensity she had never known but lasted as long as her normal feminine climax. It would be 4 full minutes before she opened her eyes. Brad withdrew his fingers as the pleasure ebbed. Everything was wrong, so wrong. And his brain was finally recognizing things as they really were. His lower body was swallowed up in his baggy jeans and the smooth skin of his legs felt assaulted by the rough denim. As he sat, his waist squeezed ever slimmer, how on earth could all the guts he needed to live with fit in such a slim form? But worst of all was the itchy, irritating warmth that had settled behind two very specific spots on his chest. It was like someone had placed the first ember of a fire directly behind each of his negligible male nipples, tiny coals which would soon swell into a mighty blaze. Brad pulled his t-shirt up and over his head, freaked out by the alarming amount of hair it displaced about his head. 'This all makes so little sense,' he thought, beginning to shiver. There was so much less of him now to keep warm. Brad exposed the pale skin of his torso, chest radically shrunken, hell he could clearly make out most of his lower ribs. But above them were his nipples which had turned an angry shade of pink. A much rosier color than the almost flesh toned pair he had known his whole adult life. And he stared in horror as the outer edge of his areolas wiggled and squirmed. Within moments they were twice as wide if not more, about as big around as dollar coins, and the nipple parts were hardening in the cool air of his apartment. Hard, stiff and incredibly sensitive. Under the skin his flesh was warm and rubbery. All trace of the muscles that had dominated his chest for many years had vanished. Instead the cells that remained were enriching, ripening, growing swollen with fat and multiplying by the thousands. With every intake of breath the distinct shape of two fledgling breasts grew more and more apparent. His chest rose and fell, the flesh surged, and the blossoming breast tissue jiggled. Larger and larger, heavier and heavier, Brad could only sit stupidly and watch as his body swelled out of feminine adolescence and right into the blush of womanhood. His mouth worked, he wanted to cry out, to yell, to scream, what was happening to him and how could he make it stop? What force was at work, manipulating his body in this way? And this was to say nothing of the tremendous transformation that had already completed itself down below. Brad's mind had already shutdown thinking about all that. That hole. That lack. He cringed. Far away Rachel felt the water around her, still quite warm. She felt the bubbles on the surface, felt the cold air on her wet exposed toes. Her hand was still gripping the side of the tub, but it was far from what she was used to. The knuckles were large, the fingers thick and strong. There was hair all over the back of hand, extending down the wrist, up the forearm toward the bulge of her bicep, now twice as dense as she had ever known. And her shoulders were wide, her neck thicker, there was stubble all over her jaw. Her eyes opened and she gazed down the length of her exposed chest. Her breasts were gone, replaced by reasonably toned pectorals above an abdomen that had spent each morning of the last several years doing crunches. These wouldn't exactly be called washboard abs, but they were tight and compact as they disappeared beneath the bubbles. Resting in the tiny declivity of her navel was her belly button hoop and jewel forced from her body several minutes ago. And further down, lolling about under the surface of the warm water, was that... thing. Her right hand still clutched it loosely. Cognizance rushed back, her mind lit up and she shouted, "Oh God, what the hell is this!?" Her hand gripped and grabbed, squeezed harder until it hurt, let go and rose up out of the water. Everything felt weird, even her insides. Mostly she was simply bigger. Taller, heavier, stronger, more muscle and bone and hair and skin. She sat up in the bath and felt her powerful abs pull her forward. Her bony behind rest on the bottom of the tub. Rachel then gripped the sides and hauled herself up out of the bath, bubbles clinging to her lower body before popping and sloughing down. All Rachel could do was stare at the mass of hair above... that thing dripping water and bubbles it slowly revealed itself. Her junk. Her full grown male equipment, balls and everything. It was just... right there. "What the hell is this?" Rachel said a second time, bending low, commenting more on her whole predicament than one specific anatomical part. Looking up, her cubby-hole of a bathroom felt claustrophobically small. Palm up Brad lifted his hand, much smaller and lighter than he was familiar with, and brought it slowly to his breast. The soft yet firm flesh struck his hand, filled it, and threatened to swell over the sides. He moved his breast up, to the side, squeezed it lightly, then let it fall, watching as it rebounded and bobbed in the air. The growth had slowed at 'really fucking large' but continued to quiver larger and firmer at a much slower pace. "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," he repeated, over and over, each repetition louder than the last. "I'm being punished. For cheating on Sara," He said, hearing his voice crack and splinter like it had not done since middle school. He decided to stand. His jeans made a dive for the floor, careening down off of his severely reduced waist before snagging on his slightly thicker hips. From there the baggy legs wobbled around his thin stems and completely enveloped his small feet lost in their loose-fitting socks. Hair, about shoulder length, cascaded down around his neck, tickling his ears and nose before he pulled it back. Brad brought his arms out from his sides as his balance was thrown way off. Everything was thrown way off. He felt bottom heavy and indeed was, since his upper body was now much thinner, minus his bust of course, while his hips were full and feminine. Brad shuffled his way across the living room toward the mirror down the hall. It was the longest walk of his life. Rachel dripped onto her bathmat but stubbornly refused to step forward in front of the mirror. She toweled off as if expecting at any moment to wake up from this decidedly strange dream. She imagined herself as still being whole and unchanged, just trapped inside something else, like wearing this larger man-shaped suit. If only she could find the zipper and get out of it. That would be a relief. Yet the nerves in her extremities proved this notion wrong at every turn. As she dried her legs the hair stood out, some of it slightly curly, most of it very dense. It was horrible. Like wearing animal hide. She fought from grabbing her lady razor and going to town right then and there. When she was properly dry, then and only then did she walk forward and glimpse herself in the oval mirror above the sink. And glimpse what she expected to be herself and discovered, much to her amazement, to be Brad, her sister's live-in boyfriend. "Brad?" she said, feeling her deeper voice reverberate in her adam's apple. Hearing her deeper voice echo off the tiles of the bathroom. "Brad?" she said again, rubbing her neck, as if expecting the reflection to suddenly break free of mimicking her every movement and act on its own. "This is... I am... Brad?" Her mind balked at the idea. Hundreds of miles away and about halfway across the room Brad caught the trailed cuff of his jeans with his opposite foot and nearly fell on his face. He then unbuttoned the fly and stepped out of the pants, leaving his billowy white boxers with the red polka dots to cinch about his narrow waist. His legs poked out of the wide holes like sticks in a tent. Hips pushing from side to side as he walked, his back attempted to arc a bit. And for some reason he strode with his heels in the air, as if grounding himself properly would make all this real. On the back of his bedroom door was a full length mirror and captured within this was the image of Rachel, his girlfriend's younger sister. Rachel, hair disheveled, without any make-up, topless, wearing a pair of his own boxers. Brad instinctively brought an arm up and covered Rachel's naked breasts but as he did so he realized all the more that this reflection of Rachel was not some other person. It was him. The breasts gripped in his forearm were nothing he had ever possessed... but at the same time they were his, too. He was wearing her body, or rather, had been shoved and poured into its tiny container. Rachel, all five foot whatever, all 120 pounds of her. "This can't be happening, this isn't me. I'm hallucinating. I can't possibly be Rachel, get me out of here, get me out of this!" he whined, hearing her sultry, low feminine purr rise up into a pained shriek. It was about this moment that his cell phone rang. "Oh great, exactly what I need!" Brad said in his girlish voice, striding off into the living room. Pert ass sticking up in the air, it took forever for him to fish the phone out of jeans pocket. On the display of his cell-phone read "Rachel." He had her number saved, but had spoken to her for perhaps 3 minutes on the phone in his entire life. "This can't be good," he muttered and answered the call. "Brad!" He heard the person on the other end of the line say, only that person, that voice, was his own. Deep and familiar yet shockingly disembodied. As if he was listening to a previously recorded message he had left on his own answering machine. "Rachel?" he asked, giving her a dose of her own voice sent from so many miles away. "I think something terrible has happened to us," Rachel said. Brad was beginning to pick up some of the quirky inflection in the style of her voice. It may have been his voice she was employing, but it was Rachel's mind controlling it. Some of the word choice, the exact phrasing were not his. Only he could notice the difference. "Um, I guess you could say that," Brad said, glancing around his apartment. "You... you... you're me I take it?" What was with the stuttering? "Yes!" Rachel exclaimed. "I'm stuck in your body, or rather I've suddenly grown into your shape. I'm you, only I'm still me on this inside. Just wearing your body. It's hard to use the right pronoun." "I know what you mean. I still have all my memories and stuff, only, I look exactly like you, or at least I think I do. Never really saw you this close up before," Brad admitted. "Oh gross, dude. Don't like, feel me up and stuff," Rachel whined petulantly, which sounded odd with her gruff voice. All of this was ironic of course, seeing as just moment ago, prior to the transformation, Rachel had been imagining Brad's rough hands all over her naked breasts. "What, like you haven't grabbed at my junk yet?" Brad fired back testily. "I was in the bath. It was right there. And might I add it is both bigger and smaller than I expected." She expected? Why should she expect it look like anything? But... bigger, eh? That was good, right? But smaller, too? "What the hell does that mean? You know it gets smaller when it gets cold, and bigger when, well, the temperature changes and other stuff can..." Brad began to defined himself. "I'm well aware of the male anatomy, genius. Question is, why do I have one? Why am I you?" "Hell if I know. I was just sitting here watching television when all of a sudden my crotch imploded. Next thing I know your funbags are filling up my shirt and..." Brad skirted well wide of the truth. "Yeah, well, hmmm. I'm not sure what to do about this. I've never heard of this sort of thing happening before. Do you think this will, like, magically wear off or something? Should we meet up? How does one go about reversing this?" Rachel asked, secretly sure she was the reason why they both looked they way they did. Somehow, her sexual fantasy had activated this body-swap. Somehow. "You're asking the wrong guy, er, girl... person, whatever I am. Look. You work on the web, right? You can do your job from wherever? All you need is a computer and an internet connection, right? Why don't you hop on a flight and come out here. See if we can't fix this together. Because on Monday I'm going to have to go to work, which means you are going to have to go into work for me. If you are still me. I can't go in looking like this. Besides nobody has a clue what I do there anyway. You could totally sit at my desk and do your real job from there at the same time," I rambled. "Makes sense I guess. But we're splitting the cost of the flight. I'm not made of money, Brad," Rachel said. "In the mean time, try not to despoil my body." And with that she hung up. Brad checked his email on his phone before turning it off. Preempting his girlfriend's nightly call he wrote Sara and made up some story that his phone was acting wonky and that he would have to go to the store tomorrow to have it checked out. He told her he loved her and all that schmaltzy stuff, but never mentioned the eensy-weensy fact of his transformation. Hopefully she would never have to find out. Just as he was about to sign off he received a final g-chat from Rachel. "10:00am flight. Non-refundable. Only thing they had. Be there around Noon. Unless this goes away. Even then you are helping me pay for this. Pick me up from the airport?" Brad agreed. One of the first things Brad noticed thereafter was how full he felt. Bloated, stuffed, whatever, this tiny body felt completely maxed out. As skinny as he had become, he had to admit he had a kind of pooch to his lower belly. Soon after this came a terrible stomach ache. And then he realized. He may have a brand new body, but all the... the stuff in it... all of the food and drink he had eaten that day, and what those had been rendered into... that was all still the same, and all still inside of him. Brad scrambled to the bathroom and, well, let's just say it felt extremely nice to be free of all that. The experience was frankly horrifying. For one thing, he had never allowed himself to think that any woman was capable of such an act. But that wasn''t the worst part. Number two had been exactly the same as he'd always known it, but number one was horrible. Never before did the phrase taking a leak ever feel so appropriate. He just let go and out spilled all of his, well, yeah, urine, but there was no stream, no control. And so much! His aching bladder emptied itself and Brad soon found himself drying up with a wad of tissue in a manner he was far from familiar with. A way he would rather not ever do again. Ten minutes as a girl and he had already been introduced to the most basic of functions. And as such he'd been forced to feel his most private parts. It took a force of will for Brad not to connect those parts with an actual human being. In other words, there was no way he had just used the bathroom as Rachel. Much less full now and skinnier than ever, Brad wandered into his bedroom where photos of him and his girlfriend Sara constantly reminded him just how weird this situation was. For one, Rachel was in some of these pictures, too. And tonight he would be sleeping in his bed, not as the man of the house, not as Sara's boyfriend, but as Sara's younger sister. The same bed he'd slept with Sara in for two whole years. The same bed he fucked her in how many hundreds of times? The thought now creeped him out. Why this thought was so unsettling to him he wasn't really sure. It sort of felt like he was already cheating on his girlfriend, like he was screwing Rachel just by being in her body. After all, he was now far more intimate with it than he ever would have been even if he had laid his hands on her. Even if he had fucked her. And every second that passed was another second of intimacy of understanding he should never have been privy to. And those Brad had never asked for. 'Sure, I may have imagined what it might be like to fool around with her,' Brad thought, sitting down on the bed. But I never asked for this. By now he was wearing his old t-shirt again, tightest about the bust but baggy and loose in general, extending right down to his upper thighs when he stood up. Below these were his boxers. He placed his hands on the bed underneath him and brought his left leg up, crossing it over the right, like a woman. Felt that absence between his legs widen slightly when his leg was up in the air, then close up as his thighs met and fit snugly one on top of the other. Uncrossing them slowly, he repeated this maneuver a dozen times. So odd. He never could bring himself to look at, let alone touch Rachel's junk, the junk he was forced to live with as his own, it was so hard to properly describe himself right now. Could he call what lay down there his? Or was he merely inside of some body that possessed it? A little of both? How could it be 'his' when it was so clearly a 'hers'? After mumbling to himself for several minutes he decided to do three or four shots of bourbon, which rightly knocked his petite body out cold for the night. Rachel on the other hand knelt in front of her toilet frantically jerking off for the third time that hour. She just couldn't stop. By now she was sore and didn't really even get much out of it, but she had no idea how men could have these things in their pants all day and not do anything about this... craving. Besides, when was she going to get another chance to do this, to feel this sensation, from this perspective? Hell, it might wear off in her sleep. No, unlike Brad, Rachel was going to get her money's worth. And afterward she gorged her famished, empty, much larger frame on everything she could lay her hands on in her fridge. She was simply ravenous, and relished the fact that she could eat far more than ever, and not worry about it effecting her girlish waistline. That was not her problem at the moment. Goodbye leftover Chinese food, and the pint of ice-cream in her freezer, and two bagels, and anything else she saw. Around 2 in the morning, barely satiated but sliding into a food coma, Rachel went to bed. With a sticky morning mouth Brad opened his eyes and was immediately confronted with his continued Racheldom. His body was soft and warm and slightly hung over but more than anything it felt, how could he ignore this, sexy as hell. After having a light breakfast Brad realized he was going to have dress himself appropriately if he was to go out in public and pick up Rachel at the airport. With the Summer sun already high in the sky and the mercury climbing toward 90, he also knew that he wasn't going to be able to cover up all that much. His male clothes were out of the question. They would be too big, too heavy and bulky, too hot. Fortunately, there was Sara's chest of drawers to raid. As much as he didn't want to wear feminine underwear, Brad decided it was just plain wrong to go 'commando' out in public as Rachel. The more he thought of the act of dressing as respecting his girlfriend's sister's dignity, the more he could wrap his brain around something like slinking up those scrawny garments and clothing his groin. Even Sara's frumpiest pair of panties felt scandalously negligible as they stretched to cover his backside. Because she was a bit more plain looking than her sister, Sara tended to have a bit less conservative wardrobe. Her dresses and shirts had a much lower neckline in order to show off her less substantial breasts. Her skirts were shorter. And as Brad was well aware of, Sara's underwear preference bordered on scandalous. Now Brad had to deal with the coupling of Sara's insubstantial underwear and Rachel's slightly wider hips. A wedgie of epic proportions seemed inevitable. Brad picked up a plain white bra and looked at it dubiously. It read 32A. He had no idea how big his breasts were but Rachel had always looked much bigger than Sara and he doubted if this would fit. In reality Rachel was a 32C. And even though the straps and bands fit Brad just fine, when he went to secure the clasp behind his back he felt the cups grab, tighten and clutch his boobs in a death grip. His breasts moved together and rose up, all that flesh forced into a relatively small space. Looking down the cleavage was stupefying on top of being downright uncomfortable. But he got the damn thing to snap. And it was a psychological relief not to feel them jiggling at the slightest movement. Now if he could only breath. After attempting and failing to fit his curvy bottom into pair after pair of Sara's pants, Brad came to the conclusion that he was going to have to either wear gym clothes, pajama bottoms, or forgo clothing with legs altogether, bite the bullet, and don a dress. All of these options made him frown. Back East Rachel was having significantly worse problems. She had managed to cram her larger body into a t-shirt and the biggest pair of sweatpants she owned, but even these proved to be skin tight and quite revealing. Her toes stuck out of a comically small pair of jellies but all this was enough to get her to the Gap. "What size pants r u?" Rachel texted Brad, their first communication of the morning. She never waited for a reply before sending, "U owe me. Hope u like skinny hipster Gap jeans. This is ridiculous." All told Rachel was rather happy to dress like a boy. Just jeans, boxers, t-shirt, all of them easy and casual, no primping, no matching, no fuss no muss. And her hair, so short! If she hadn't needed to spend money on these items she might even admit to enjoying herself and her new found freedom. Soon Rachel was on a bus bound for the airport. Holding up his girlfriend's pjs Brad swiftly crossed them off the list of possibilities. They were oldish and getting threadbare and not particularly appropriate to be worn in public. There was also an innocent quality to them that he really felt uncomfortable sullying. Even wearing Sara's underwear seemed less of an act of violation than wearing her pajamas. "No way," Brad said, looking at himself in the full length mirror once more, this time in Sara's gym shorts. They were red with a white stripe down each side ending in a very slight v-slit. They also barely contained the cheeks of her ass let alone Rachel's. Maybe if he were going to participate in the roller-derby, but now, not even to walk to the car and back. Which left the inevitable. Brad was going to have to wear a dress. Of course this, too had it's problems. The same coupling of Sara's penchant for revealing clothing and Rachel's own curvier figure led to the garments being more revealing he would have preferred. Hems rose up higher, necklines plunged lower and everything was just much tighter in general. Brad soon realized he had spent the last 45 minutes trying on clothes to no avail and shook his head. Finally there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He found a sundress Sara had never worn because it was "too big on her." That might mean not revealing enough, but whatever the case it felt comfortable on Brad. It was a tasteful paisley print sleeveless with straps. Yes there was some cleavage but this was by far the least he'd yet come across. The hem fell to mid to lower thigh. Pleased with himself, Brad grabbed his keys and left the apartment. "Your hair looks like a rat's nest," Rachel said, climbing into the car just after noon. "And what is that, a push-up bra?" "Well hello to you, too," Brad replied, putting the car in drive and pulling away. They were both quiet for a time. Every so often one or the other would take a quick, secretive look at the other. It was sort of a lot to take in. Seeing yourself as somebody else, and then seeing that somebody else act in ways you never had. All of a sudden they both started talking at once. "This is so weird." "God how fucked up is this?" Their eyes finally met. Both faces looked sheepish and confused though these expressions dissolved into grins which in turn opened to let out hearty laughs. It felt really good to hear each other laugh. "I have no idea how I'm doing," Brad said, merging onto the highway. "Am I doing okay pretending to be you?" "Well, I wouldn't be caught dead in that dress, but otherwise, at least your shoes don't completely clash with it," Rachel said, running her eyes up and down the length of Brad. They lingered on the swell of her bust, the barest trace of sweat on her exposed collarbone as it was really hot and the car lacked AC. And then something happened Rachel wasn't prepared for. Something stirred. Rachel became aware that whether she liked it or not, she was growing hard. How embarrassing, and why? What the hell was going on here? Was the simple sight of some tits enough to... but then of course it was. 'This body was designed to crave that shit' she thought. Somehow the sight of breasts had bypassed her 'Rachel' brain and her "I'm into dudes" mentality and plugged right in to this guy body's desires. She tried to deflect her increasing embarrassment by adding, "But yeah, I suppose you could be doing far worse. It's so odd, you sitting there. It's like I'm sitting across from a mirror, or a long lost twin." "I never realized how big I was," Brad said, taking a quick glance over at Rachel. For a second she was horrified he might be referring to the half-mast bulge in her jeans but one look at his face was enough to dispel that notion. He meant it as a general comment. As in tall and broad and masculine. "Yeah, it's kind of freaky. Being able to see over most everyone's head. Reach the top shelf. I might come to miss this," Rachel joked. But even she noticed the vague bit of sincerity in her voice. They drove on in silence for a few miles, each lost in their own world. "So," Rachel began as if to make small talk, "Did you ever think it would, um, be like this. You know, to be the opposite sex." Her erection had gone down before fully materializing. Fortunately before Brad had never noticed. That would have been... problematic. "Well, I'd be lying if I never imagined what it might be like to have boobs. I think most guys imagine that at some point. But they are both much more 'there' than I expected, and at the same time I almost forget about 'em sometimes. Way more than I ever thought I would," Brad replied. "Yeah, they kinda just become part of the whole after a while. I mean, I remember growing up, waiting to have them, seeing other girls suddenly with them, and checking the mirror every morning as if they might grow overnight," Rachel said. "I knew there wasn't much hope. The girls in my family don't have an inclination towards... well, you know. But then they were just there. In less than a year I went from flat to, well, feel for yourself. They haven't really grown much since I was 14. Became very normal very fast. But it's not like they are just some random body part either. It's not like they are feet or something. I'm sure you've felt them, uh, become excited." "I try not to think about it, but yeah. They are way more sensitive than I thought. Also, just walking to car I was amazed how many people just..." Brad began to say. "Drool all over themselves at the very sight of them? Yep. They are a powerful weapon my inexperienced friend. Best used sparingly," Rachel said as if warning herself of their attraction. She gazed out the window at a large farm passing by. "What about you? How are you dealing with, uh, mister happy?" Brad asked not really knowing what the hell to call it. Penis was too clinical. Cock too dirty. Everything sounded wrong so he settled for a bad joke. "It's funny you should ask. I guess I too have imagined what it might be like to have a dick. I always thought it would be nice to have things so out in the open. Easier to take care of. And you never have to wonder what a guy is really thinking. Nothing is hidden. Girl junk, well, it's all tucked away is just generally icky and mysterious," Rachel admitted. "But damn if this piece of yours don't react to the slightest thing." "Welcome to the world of the adult male," Brad said, changing lanes. "You want to know something really weird?" Rachel said against her better judgment. "Um..." Brad said with some trepidation. 'Something really weird' inspired by the two of them chatting about his penis? Alarms were flashing. "When I first hopped in the car, and commented on your choice of dress? Yeah, looking at your boobs made me get a total hardon." Brad was quiet. He didn't know what to say. Did that happen because his body, no matter who was 'controlling' it was somehow hardwired to react to Rachel's? Even when he wasn't 'behind the wheel' so to speak? Would saying 'that doesn't surprise me' give away that he had actual feelings for the girl? And if he did betray himself might that also imply that something he did was behind their switcheroo? After all, it was thoughts of Rachel that were somehow behind this. It couldn't be a coincidence. How to answer this... "Well, I mean honestly, just the tremble of the seat in a running car is enough to do it sometimes," Brad covered his bases. "Really!? Get out! Wow, here I thought I might be going wiggy. Becoming attracted to my own body," Rachel said. "No..." Brad deflected. A moment later Rachel said, "You wanna stop for lunch? I'm fucking starved." Brad and Rachel parked outside of one of those rest areas off the highway where a single structure contains a multitude of fast food options. The sun was shining and many people were traveling this Saturday. One of the last Summer weekends before school started back up later in September. And it felt like every man over the age of 14 was pausing to take a good look at Brad. "Jesus, these people have no shame," Brad said, walking briskly to the building. If one were paying careful attention you might notice something odd about his walk. Something less than girly. Not that it deterred anybody from taking a second glance, or a third. After all Brad's backside was just as pleasing as his front. "I told you, get used to it. To some of these dudes you are little more than a pair of boobs and a warm place to stick their..." Rachel said. "Don't finish that sentence," Brad said, opening the door for himself. Seated in a booth, Brad and Rachel had plastic trays loaded with food in front of them. The food court was alive with conversation and laughter. It seemed a direct contradiction to their situation. As if the jubilee of all these strangers were in some way mocking them. The smell of onions from the fast food sandwich shop was strong but was being worn away by the scent of fried food and cheese. Brad tore into a very large cheeseburger. "Another thing I noticed about you," Rachel said, "I mean me, as you. Your body. I'm always hungry. Always. How do you keep this thing full." Rachel shoveled fries into her mouth. Brad grunted a non-answer. "Oh, and honey. You should watch yourself. You may be hungry but all that fat is going straight to your thighs." Brad cocked his eyebrow and looked up. After politely chewing and swallowing he said, "Rach, I don't plan on being in here long enough for it to matter." "Hmm. You think when we change back, whatever you've done as me will transfer back to me? I'm not sure how to say that any better. Like, if you put on 10 pounds in the meantime, when we transform back, will I have those 10 pounds?" Rachel asked. "Because I would fucking kick your ass." "How should I know?" Brad said, still defensive about being told to 'watch his weight.' How humiliating. "Also, I know we're in a booth and nobody can see and everything but you might want to watch how you sit. I see London I see France, I see Bradley's underpants," Rachel said, stumbling over the precise name to use in the rhyme. 'Brad' didn't seem appropriate at the moment. Brad slapped his thighs together and blushed. Later, after they were through he had to wait in line for a stall in the women's room. Wait in line! How ridiculous. While he stood there, bladder begging to be released, he watched all the women, his age or younger mostly, primping in the mirrors. Some had absolutely no shame, cupping their chests and adjusting their cleavage to accentuate their breasts. One or two gave him dirty looks as he watched, as if to sarcastically say 'honey, please excuse me if I haven't been as blessed as you have.' Rachel on the other hand had a different experience. Walking into the john she saw the long row of urinals across from the stalls. She instinctively walked towards the latter but then realized she had no need for such privacy. Peeing as a guy was great, she had found. Just whip it out and go. And even though there were plenty of open urinals down the wall, she took an empty one in between two men urinating. May as well take advantage of the view while she could. Her brain instructed her to sneak a glance at each man's package. However she was kind of repulsed by the look of the other men's junk. Not at all what she had expected. She made a mental note to tell that to Brad. Out in the lobby she found Brad comically bending over to tie his shoe with half the patrons of the rest stop staring, hoping for a glimpse of down under. She cracked him gently across the back of the head and reminded him yet again to be a little more self aware. The car started and they were home an hour later. "So where were you when it happened?" Rachel said, surveying the apartment. She set down her traveling bag near the front door and crossed her arms like a physical education instructor. "Well, I was sitting on the couch. Right about here," Brad said, walking over and pointing. "Sit down. Do exactly what you were doing." "What do you mean, I was just sitting there," Brad said with a nasal whine creeping into his feminine voice. Rachel had a suspicion something wasn't quite right. Was Brad lying to her? "Brad? Where you, uh..." Rachel said, finishing with the universal motion for male masturbation. "What!? No!" He said, sitting down on the couch. "Brad, you are so lying. You were! You were totally flogging your dragon," Rachel accused, complete with finger pointing. "Yeah, fine, okay. So what if I was," Brad admitted, face flushed red. "I was home alone. A guy gets lonely and bored." "Well, your behavior might have something to do with why you're peeing sitting down these days," Rachel said. If Brad was jerking off, and she had been masturbating at the same time... that was a hell of a coincidence. Then it struck her. Oh my God! No, he couldn't have been thinking about her... But then again she had been thinking of him... Rachel's eyes went wide and she took a step back. "You were thinking of me, weren't you! You were fantasizing about me in order to get off!" "I so totally wasn't!" Brad lied, jumping up off the couch, the bottom of his dress rising and falling. "Brad, don't you fucking lie. I know you were. I can see it in your face. I know what my face looks like when I'm lying. Besides, I'm starting to think I know why this happened to the two of us in particular, out of everyone in the world," Rachel said. "And why is that?" "Because I was masturbating the same time you were. And I was thinking about... you," Rachel said. The atom bomb confession dropped. Several awkward seconds passed in silence. They could hear the sound of a siren in the distance and the many city sounds coming in the open windows. "You... you think I'm hot?" Brad said, forgetting everything else, suddenly elated. Far from the storm of wrath Rachel had been prepared for. "What!? Oh, yeah, well, you did the trick, that's for sure. And it wasn't the first time," Rachel shared with a smile. "But I'm dating your sister! I'm living with her... I'm sleeping in the same bed as Sara!" "You know, two can play this game, Bradley. After all, what the hell were you doing thinking of me when such is the case?" Rachel replied. "I'm not the only one at fault here!" The two stood staring at one another. The digital clock on DVD player read half past 2. Both of them realized that each was equally to blame for this. Somehow. They hadn't the faintest clue why things had happened as they did, but certainly this revelation had to play some part in the process. Brad walked into the kitchen and got a glass of water. Rachel picked at her masculine nails in a decidedly non- masculine manner. "So... do you think we need to (cough) replicate the situation to get us to turn back?" Brad guessed sipping from the glass. "Hadn't thought of that, but I suppose it is worth a try," Rachel said. "Do you think it will work even though I'm not exactly where I was, I'm not back East?" "Whatever happened to us occurred despite the fact we were so far apart. I doubt the distance had much to do with it. I can't imagine it made things any easier or more likely," Brad said. "Alright, so let's do this," Rachel said, unzipping her fly. "Whoa whoa whoa!" Brad said, hands waving. "Oh yeah, you're right. You're gonna need a head start, aren't you? Fucking chicks, man," Rachel said with a sarcastic smile. "No way! There is no way I'm touching down there," Brad said. He wouldn't even look down at his crotch. "I can't do that to you. I can't do that to Sara." "But imagining me giving you a screw was okay?" Rachel said, hand still on her zipper. "It's just... doesn't this seem really wrong to you?" Brad asked. "What feels really wrong is me having this tool in the first place. So sit your ass down on the couch, or go lay in bed, and get yourself warmed up, darling, because whether you want to or not, we're doing this." "Just wait for one minute. Think this through. What we were doing, it was wrong, but I bet we need to duplicate it pretty closely. So that might mean in order for us to get our bodies back..." Brad began. "We'll need to fantasize about fucking each other as we look now or else nothing is going to happen," Rachel completed the sentence. "Uh, gross! I have to be turned on by a chick? By my own self? I have to think about you, while I'm stuck this boy body, imagining this body fucking you, who now looks like me? Isn't that like, imagining myself fucking myself? This is giving me a headache." "You have a point. I'm not sure I will be able to do anything if the object of my fantasy is..." Brad said, waving his hand in Rachel's direction. "Well we'll just have to see, now won't we?" Rachel said, busily undoing her fly and shucking her pants. "Hey, what are you doing?" Brad asked, nervous. Rachel responded by tugging off her shirt. Last to go were her socks and boxers. Rachel, in Brad's body, stood perfectly nude in the living room. Brad had done pretty well to keep himself in shape and had always considered himself fairly good looking. He was not wrong in assuming this. As his eyes glanced over Rachel a curious thing happened. His body, the Rachel body he was now living in, grew aroused at the sight of a naked man. It was subtle, and at times obscure. But he felt warmer. And his skin prickled. His heart rate went up ever so slightly and his mouth felt a little dry. His eyes dilated a fraction of a millimeter and countless other physical changes occurred. Brad found himself with one hand up in the air, fingers twirling his long hair. "Ha! You are into this! You so totally are!" Rachel said, laughing. "Dude, I know what I'm like when I'm all hot and bothered. I don't know how or why, but you're into this, Brad. Just like I was for that split second in the car. Maybe our bodies overrule our minds. Maybe we can reverse this after all." Brad had to admit, the girl was on to something. He decided to play along, just for a little bit. He decided to turn the tables and see what happened to Rachel if he... Brad grabbed at the hem of his dress and pulled it upward revealing more and more thigh. He arched his back and brought his elbows back, jutting his chest out even further. Then, in comical interpretation of sexy allure, he made his hair swoosh in the air from one side to the other by turning his head rapidly. As it settled he pouted and put a finger on his lower lip. "That is so not going to... hey! Well wouldn't you know?" Rachel said, her body visibly reacting. "This is so wrong," Brad said shaking his head. "Maybe, but c'mon dude. If this is gonna work I need more. Get yourself out of that ugly ass sundress. Show me some tits," Rachel said in a very frat-boy way. Brad rolled his eyes and shifted his weight on the couch from cheek to cheek, slipping the dress up from under his body. It was draped over a nearby chair a moment later. Brad sat there, legs demurely crossed, in socks, skimpy white panties, and his ridiculously small brassiere, breasts heaving. "Better?" Brad asked. He was trying not to pout. "See for yourself," Rachel said. She was harder than ever but not quite there yet. Brad fumbled with the bra and inexpertly freed the girls. He had temporarily forgotten how large they were, how heavy they felt when they weren't all bound up. Their nipples hardened almost immediately, as much from fear as from arousal. "This so strange, Brad," Rachel said. "This body of yours, it is driving me absolutely crazy!" She was bigger and harder than ever and maybe it was Brad's new perspective or maybe it was something this girl body was doing to his brain, but he couldn't help but stare at it as it pointed up in the air. So big and long it almost made him want to reach out and... He shook his head. Mustn't think like that. "Still gotta lose those drawers, dude," Rachel reminded. Brad could tell she was really enjoying the whole playing the man part. Being the director. In control. Brad acquiesced. Sitting naked on the couch he felt incredibly exposed and swiftly recrossed his legs. His erect nipples faded when he crossed his arms. Even though he didn't like the way his body felt when he looked at Rachel, for the most part he was as frigid as a snowman. Sex was about the farthest thing from his mind. "Rachel, I'm still not sure I can do this. I don't feel sexy at all and I don't know the first thing about... even starting to..." Brad mumbled. Rachel walked over to him, member bobbing in the air like a fishing rod. When Brad looked up it practically poked him in the eye. "Dude!" he said, recoiling. "Oh just quit your fussing. I know what my body likes. Let me help you," Rachel said, sitting down on the couch. She laid a warm hand on Brad's shoulder and lightly ran a finger up his neck. "If it helps, just shut your eyes. But try and imagine yourself, your girl self looking as you do now, as being excited by Brad. You need to convince yourself that Brad is hot. If we are gonna switch back, you have to." Rachel's other hand rest on Brad's naked thigh. He jumped a little at her touch, then took a deep breath and focused. Rachel rubbed her hand down to his knee, then back up right to his hip, all the while her other hand was gently massaging his neck. Brad did his best to do as she instructed, but this was going to take some time. Rachel maneuvered Brad to the side, where she could grab both his shoulders in her hands and kneaded the tense flesh. "That feels really good," Brad muttered. "I know," Rachel responded. She then helped him forward onto his stomach and rubbed her hands up and down the length of his slim back. The sight of his pert behind made her wince it was so... Rachel's body was beginning to overwhelm her better judgment. Her palms pressed and rubbed all the way down until she used her finger tips to stroke the sides of Brad's hips. She then leaned forward and couldn't help herself. She planted a kiss right between his shoulder-blades. "Hey, what are you...!?" Brad said, alarmed, trying to flip over. "Just relax. I'm trying to help you. You have to focus, Brad. This is going to be much harder for you than for me," Rachel said, shifting her weight. As she did so her dick barely grazed Brad's thigh. He tensed. "Things are obviously pretty damn hard for you, too," Brad fired back. "Just don't get any funny ideas, mmm," Brad said before moaning as Rachel's strong hands went back to work on his shoulders and back. Rachel would plant a kiss more and more often now, higher and higher until she kissed his neck, blowing on the spot after parting her lips, knowing how good the air felt cooling the wet spot. To her surprise Brad didn't complain anymore. In fact, she saw his eye flutter, as if pleased. Rachel's hands swept down until she grabbed both of Brad's ass cheeks and clenched tightly. Grip and release, grip and release, she knew this would feel good, but she was pleasantly surprised by how good it felt in her hands. "Keep your eyes closed," Rachel whispered, working Brad over onto his back. Her eyes gazed upon his reclining naked body. Jesus Christ was he hot! Rachel kissed his navel first, then rubbed her hands up and down his arms. He had gone limp and was doing his best to fulfill his part of the bargain. Brad's mind was systematically breaking down homophobic barriers. He imagined himself, as a girl, laying in wait. In the doorway was a man, who he crafted as best he could to look like the person he once was. The man was good looking, no, attractive. Brad wanted him. And parted his legs both in his mind and in real life. Rachel saw Brad part his thighs ever so slightly and knew this was working. She turned his head to the side and began to neck him, hands trembling, hovering over his jutting breasts. And then she just couldn't help herself. She palmed them, softly, then harder and stronger. Her kisses grew fiercer and more aggressive. She wanted to bite and lick. She did so. A gentle nip and playful lick. One of Brad's nipples was pinched between her finger and thumb and Brad gasped. The last warning flare in his head fired as he knew that by now, he should part from Rachel, to continue this little adventure on his own. Because he was losing his Bradness, his mind was clouding over. The fantasy in his head was merging with what he was feeling in real life, and his body was becoming untrustworthy. But the point of no return may have already been crossed. He didn't like the idea of Rachel's strong hands on his body, he loved it. He felt blood rushing to his genitals, felt a warmth there, and a wetness as Rachel kissed mere inches above his slit. Rachel was starting to lose control as well. Her body was on fire, and she couldn't repress how nice it was to cup and feel and tongue Brad's soft body. Her erect organ begged to be buried in the prone body before her, and unless her eyes were deceiving her, Brad was giving her the go ahead. Rachel managed to say one word. "Protection?" It nearly broke the spell both had fallen under. Brad couldn't believe he was saying this, but at least he had the good judgment to hiss, "Run to the bedroom. My night table. Bottom drawer. The condoms. Before I lose my nerve." Rachel was off like a shot. She wasn't really about to do this, was she? She wasn't really going to fuck Brad? She couldn't possibly be tearing open the tiny square, rolling the condom down her engorged dick. Watching as Brad parted his legs achingly slowly. That slit, so familiar, so inviting, this so wrong on so many levels... And then, she was on top of him, her bulk and strength, her arms holding her up as she entered and penetrated. Brad's eyes were still closed, and now he shut them even harder, whimpering, but never once did he have any intention of telling her to stop. Rachel was going insane. The sensation of that tight warm flesh around her dick, the friction as she rocked back and forth... This was all a dream. This had to be some bizarre fantasy. She was back East, sleeping, still a woman, and this was all some elaborate and realistic dream. Either way it felt so good... Rachel was absolutely gigantic inside him. Brad thought she might pierce him completely. This was unlike anything he had ever felt, to be dominated so thoroughly, and yet, he was the one in control. He could stop this at any moment. He had the power. But could he really stop? However nice this felt, deep down he knew he was miles away from an orgasm. And if his memory served, Rachel would be finishing up right about... "Oh God, Oh God, this. is. so. fucking. good!" Rachel blurted out before pumping one last time, and letting go. Her whole body quivered and she moaned, collapsing down on top of Brad. He let the pleasant sensations that had built up kindle for a few moments, never to be fully realized, before he opened his eyes and slunk off the couch, delicately disengaging Rachel from the inside of his body. His crotch throbbed. His body, that fucking traitor. Sweat glistened up and down his limbs. As he looked down on Rachel's reclining, panting form, he frowned, and ran to the bathroom. Moments later Rachel walked over and found him sitting on the toilet, crying. She stood there, hand over her increasingly limp junk still sheathed in a condom, now full of cum, dangling low, but still a ways from falling off. "What the fuck was that!?" Brad said, suddenly looking up. His face was shiny with tear streaks. "What the hell did we just do!?" "I thought you wanted to..." Rachel said in her softest whisper. "I did want to! That's the whole fucking problem! What is wrong with me!" Brad buried his head in his hands again, sobbing. Rachel turned to the side and awkwardly slipped off the condom. She deftly tied it in a knot and tossed it in the bathroom waste basket before crouching in front of Brad. "This is obviously way more complex than we know, Brad. We may think like our old selves, but the split between mind and body... I'm not sure who we are anymore. I think we might be a mixture..." Rachel said. "I don't want to be a mixture! I want to be normal! I want to be myself again, to have my old life back. I don't want to be sitting on a toilet with a sore fucking gash between my legs..." Brad cried. "Calm down. We'll figure this out. Everything will be okay," Rachel said, hand on his knee. "How can you be so composed about this!?" Rachel paused. For one, she had just came, and the calm afterglow, the peaceful indifference that follows made her very relaxed and oddly clear-headed. There was the fact that she had just had sex as a man, and completed that act, too. Was her body edging ever closer to dominating her mind after its recent conquest? Was the fact that Brad clearly hadn't 'gone all the way' preventing his body from doing the same? The scariest thought of all followed suit. Would it be the worst thing in the world if maybe, just maybe, they never could figure out how to reverse things? Rachel snapped out of it. "I'm just... well, there's no real point in freaking out. Our switch happened. Then this... act, it happened. They are both done. History. There isn't much we can do about them now, is there? All we can do is focus on how to make things right," Rachel said. "I can't believe I cheated on Sara! With... myself!" Brad said, staring at Rachel. "How messed up is that!?" Rachel then did something she didn't expect. She saw Brad look up, and then smacked him hard across the cheek with her bare hand. His eyes seemed to lose their manic glow. "Brad! You have to stop. You have to understand that whoever you think you are right now, it's complicated. Whatever we just did, whoever we were when we just did that, it is all way more complex than either of us can understand. All you can know is that you didn't do anything wrong. We did this, Brad. Together. And whatever we did, it happened for a reason," Rachel said. "Rachel... thank you," Brad whispered. She smiled. That night they were sitting at a table on the sidewalk in front of Brad's favorite Thai place. The city was filled with passersby, and their noise, smells, conversations. "You were right, I love this," Rachel said, scooping noodles into her mouth. "Well, I'm starting to get this whole body preferences thing," Brad said, running a hand through his hair. "It only made sense to recommend you get my old favorite meal." "We may just have to feed each other, at least for the time being," Rachel said, laughing. Brad had calmed down a lot and he too, laughed. It took his mind of the disconcerting thought that this might be some sort of date. The people passing by, the waiter, if asked, they would all certainly think that's what this was. There was a certain tension between Brad and Rachel. Most people would sense it a mile away. Yet even if this was a date, it wasn't so bad, if he thought about it. As long as he held onto the th