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Out of Play By Julia Manchester A young professional golfer and his wife experience an profound change in their relationship after an unexplained event reverses the gender of everyone in the world. It goes without saying that the Great Exchange was a shock to everyone. No one could have foreseen the incredible event, and when everyone in the entire world awoke with the genitals of the opposite sex there was complete chaos. It was a full week before society began to function in a limited way, and we are still dealing with the changes two years later. At the time I was a professional golfer on one of the "minor league" tours, trying to earn my way to the big tour. I'd some success in college and as an amateur and I was trying to make a decent living while I honed my game and hoped for my big chance. It wasn't easy. The purses on the minor tours are very small, and where a top ten finish on the PGA would bring a minimum of $250,000, a top ten finish on the lesser tours might bring only $10,000. If I finished down in the pack I might make only a few hundred dollars, so life wasn't easy. My wife, Karen, stuck by me through the lean times, and I was just beginning to earn some money. By June I had made over $100,000, which might sound like a lot, but traveling expenses are high, and there are caddy fees to pay. I had one sponsor that brought in $8,000, but I had to make several personal appearances and give tips to the sponsor's clients in return for the money. But things were looking up. I had just finished second in a regional event ($25,000) and went back to the hotel to meet Karen and pack for the next event. Fortunately I didn't have to qualify so I had three days to drive 1,500 miles. We decided to start out Sunday, instead of staying the night at our current motel. I was hoping to get a few miles towards my next stop so I'd have a shorter drive on Tuesday. We left the motel around 7:00 with the idea of driving at least 200 miles before we stopped for the night. Karen had already washed and prepped my clothes for the first two days of the tournament, and I hung them in the car before carrying out our suitcases. Karen had made sandwiches for dinner, which we ate while driving. At about 10:30 I was really tired. We had driven over 200 miles, and I figured that I could do 650 miles each day I'd get to the tournament a day early and be able to do a couple of practice rounds. I pulled into one of those chain motels that I knew would have a decent bed and a room without hot and cold running cockroaches, and checked in. Karen opened her suitcase and took her nightgown and slides with her into the pint- sized bathroom, intending to remove her makeup, shower and change. We wanted to get an early start, so she and I usually got ready to leave as soon as we checked in. When she emerged from the bathroom she was wearing her little black nightgown and I couldn't help smiling as she came towards the bed. My wife was beautiful -- 22 years old, about 5-9, nice 36-28-36 figure, great legs, and an incredibly cute face. She weighed about 125, and to my eyes every pound was in just the right place. We had met several years ago when I had been a star of our college golf team. Karen was on the women's team and a very good golfer in her own right, though not good enough to turn pro. After a short time we had fallen in love and married, and Karen had done everything she could to support me in pursuing my dream. I gave her a brief hug as I passed her on the way to the bathroom with a clean pair of boxers. I showered and brushed my teeth, and as I stood in front of the mirror I took a quick inventory of my own body. I wasn't as handsome as I would have liked to be, but not too bad, all things considered. I was 24, 5-11, and weighed about 175. My 32 inch waist looked proportional to my 40 inch chest, and though my arms weren't all that muscular, they were good enough to help me drive around 290 yards in a neutral wind. I wasn't one of the long hitters, but I had a deft touch around the green and a good putting game. As I headed to bed I hoped I had enough game to make it. When I got to the bed Karen was already asleep, and I toyed with the idea of waking her up to fool around, but I abandoned that idea, remembering how far we had to drive the next day. I awoke suddenly when I heard a sound coming from the bathroom, and I saw that Karen was already up. "Is everything okay?" I called out to her, but she was strangely silent, and after calling out again without a response I threw the covers off and rose to my feet, scratching my chest and butt as I did. "Hey Karen, are you okay?" I repeated as I stood outside the bathroom door. "I... I... have a, a problem," she replied in an uncertain voice. "What's the matter?" I asked. "Well, you're not going to believe this..." Her voice tapered off. "Believe what?" I demanded, growing just a little impatient. We had 650 miles to go that day, and I was in no mood to hear her complain about her hair or makeup. After another pause she said, "I think you just have to see for yourself." She opened the door and I looked her in the eye. "What am I not going to believe?" I asked, wondering what her problem was. At first I didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but Karen lowered her head and my eyes followed to where she looked -- and I gasped at what I saw. The panties of her nightgown were lowered to mid thigh, revealing something that could not possibly be. Between Karen's silken thighs was a (very) large penis, and behind that was a scrotum that was also quite large. I stared at the impossible sight for awhile, and then looked up at Karen, whose expression seemed to be a mixture of stunned disbelief and embarrassment. "What the HELL happened to you?" I demanded, my gaze returning to the incongruous sight of my wife's "package." "I -- I'm not sure," she replied haltingly. "I mean, I know WHAT happened, but I don't know HOW it happened!" I looked up again, and noticed that something else seemed "off," but at first I didn't know what it was. Then it hit me. Karen appeared to be taller -- in fact she now looked to be quite a bit taller than me, though that too was impossible. My wife had been about two inches shorter than me, yet now... she actually looked to be four or five inches taller! My mind reeled, and I slumped down on the seat of the toilet with my head in my hands. This had to be a bad dream, but as I stared at the floor I knew it wasn't. Something had caused my beautiful wife to literally grow a pair overnight, and her height had increased too. As I stared down my eyes focused on my boxers, and suddenly I noticed that they looked a little odd. Instead of the usual dome that formed over my penis and scrotum the fabric actually dipped, forming a valley between my legs. A cold chill shot through me as I tentatively reached for my boxers. When I touched the boxers at my pubic area I felt nothing, and I quickly stood up and yanked them down. Instead of my normal masculine equipment I saw nothing but a slightly curving mound that disappeared between my legs, and I quickly reached down, desperately searching for my normal male anatomy. But it wasn't there! I couldn't see them, but instead of my penis and scrotum I felt a pair of what had to be female labia low on my abdomen. Even my pubic hair seemed to have become finer and soft. The last thing I remember was Karen looking at me with a shocked expression... When I awoke I was lying in bed and the sun was high - too high. "What happened?" I asked, still feeling groggy. "You fainted," Karen told me from a chair across the room. She was watching an all-news channel on the television, and her expression was grim. "Fainted?" I asked. Suddenly the memories came flooding back to me. "Oh shit!" I shouted as I groped beneath the covers with both hands, finding nothing more than I had earlier. "Don't bother," Karen sighed. "It isn't there - It's here," she told me, pointing at her crotch. I turned my head and saw that she was wearing a pair of my boxers and was sitting with her legs apart. It was obvious that there was something creating the dome in the boxers that I once had, and I already knew what it was - I had seen it with my own eyes. "What? How?" I stammered in a shocked voice, stunned by what had happened. Karen shook her head. "I don't know," she replied, "but it isn't just us, it's everyone - the whole world has... shifted from one sex to the other. There are reports coming in from everywhere, but nobody knows how or why it happened," she added, gesturing at the television. "The whole world?" "Yeah, and everyone is going nuts. I think we should stay right here for a day or so. It doesn't look like there will be any golf tournament this week," she added. ____________________ After a few minutes I got up and decided to get dressed. I grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to do my normal morning routine, but that day was anything but normal. I shaved and brushed my teeth, which were the only normal part of my routine, except I noticed the mirror over the sink looked higher than usual. Then I turned to the part I'd been dreading and stepped over to the toilet. Karen had obviously used it last because the seat was up, so I lowered it and sat down. The flow seemed to gush out of me in a spray, leaving my new parts disgustingly damp and forcing me to dry myself with some toilet paper. I tried not to think about what I'd just done as I stepped over to the tub and stepped in for my shower. That experience was almost normal, though my chest seemed to itch a little. Then, as I worked my way down below my waist it became surreal. I could not resist the temptation to touch and explore my new equipment. As I soaped my groin I felt the labia I had seen the previous evening, and I ran my fingers along the fleshy lips that surrounded my new opening. They were sensitive, but not terribly so, and I placed two fingers between them and parted them slightly. Going further, I cautiously inserted one finger a short way into my crevice and experienced the most alien sensation I had ever felt. The awareness that something was actually inside me competed with the actual feel of my finger against the interior flesh of my, my vagina for my attention, and I felt lightheaded. I withdrew my finger and held on to the shower rod for a moment until I felt the dizziness pass. After that I just finished as quickly as I could. When I took my clothes from the hook on the door it was apparent I had more challenges to deal with. My boxers hung loosely in front, and while I could still wear them I was conscious of them sliding back and forth across my labia, sending chills through me. I did my best to ignore the sensations but ran into a different problem with my shirt and pants. My shirt tail was several inches too long, and while I could just tuck it in I discovered my pants were also too long - about two inches too long. They pooled around my feet, and even when I put my shoes on my pant legs were dragging on the floor. I rolled the pant legs up a couple of turns and exited the bathroom. I had packed a couple a pairs of shorts, and until I could get to a store they would have to do. A few minutes later I was dressed in a navy polo shirt, tan cargo shorts, and a pair of natural leather sandals that for some reason I had to tighten a little to keep them on my feet. "I have a slight problem," I told Karen as I walked over to her. "My pants are too long." She looked over at me and nodded. "I have a couple of problems too, honey," she replied. "My slacks are all to short for me now, and they don't have any room for..." She looked own at herself and I knew exactly what she meant. "Would you mind if I borrowed your black shorts?" She asked with an embarrassed expression. "I guess not," I replied, trying not to think about the fact that my wife now carried the "family jewels." "Thanks," she said and rose to get my other pair of shorts. She retrieved them from my suitcase and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she came out, but she wasn't wearing the shorts. Instead she had put on the pants I'd left in the bathroom, and they seemed to fit her pretty well. She was wearing the belt I'd intended to use, and if the waist was a little loose on her it was hard to tell. "I, ah, these fit a little better than the shorts. Do you mind if I borrow these instead?" She asked. I was more than a little shocked to see how well my wife filled out my pants, but I shook my head. "What about the waist?" I asked. Karen shrugged. "It looks like I added an inch or an inch and a half to my waist. They're too loose to wear without a belt, but they're okay like this," she replied. "That gives me an idea," she said, going over to her own suitcase. "Why don't you try these on and see how they fit," she suggested, pulling out a pair of her own tan slacks.' "Not a chance," I replied. There's no way I'm wearing women's pants." "Oh, come on. They're just plain slacks, no different from yours, and they just might fit. If they do we might be able to save a lot of money and embarrassment of shopping for clothes. My guess is that shopping is the last thing you want to do right now," she added. She was right about shopping. I was feeling bad enough as it was without going out to a clothing store and buying clothes in public. "Okay, I'll try them, but I don't think the waist will be big enough." "If I gained a bit in the waist there's a good chance you lost a bit," she replied, "and these do have an elastic waist." I stood up and took the "slacks" from her, trying to ignore the fact that she was a good four inches taller than me now, and went into the bathroom. Surprisingly, the slacks actually fit, though they were a little tight, and they closed from the wrong side. I also noticed that the women's cut meant that there was no room in the crotch, and it was painfully obvious that I no longer had anything that needed any extra room. That was the worst part, and when I complained to Karen she pointed out that no one would pay much attention to me since I was no different than any of the other guys. That wasn't much comfort to me but I had to admit she was correct. I was just one more emasculated male. ____________________ We spent the rest of the day coming up with a plan for the immediate future. We had enough in the bank to survive for a couple of months, but we hoped the tour would resume after a week or two. If not we both had college degrees, and I actually had a teaching certificate, though I had never taught apart from my student teaching. Karen's degree was in art history, and neither of us held out much hope she could find a job, aside from some minimum wage position. In the meantime we had another problem: I needed smaller clothes for golfing, including shoes. I also didn't know how well my clubs would work for me now. They were custom made and cut for my old height. Now that I was four inches shorter that could pose a problem. The only thing I could do was get to a course or driving range to see if they would still work for me. That evening Karen went out for some fast food for dinner, and after we finished she talked me into going out and looking for "golf outfits." We went to a local mall, where I was measured. The results were discouraging. I had lost nearly 20 pounds, and my chest had shrunk to 38". My waist and inseam were both 30" and my shoe size had gone from a 10 medium to a 7 ? narrow. Finding a decent golf shoe in such a small size was difficult, especially in a narrow width, but Karen scoured the shelves and finally came up with a pair of white shoes that seemed to fit pretty well. When I looked at the tag I discovered that they were women's shoes and I objected, but she told me she simply couldn't find anything in a 7 ? narrow width in the men's shoe section. The women's shoes were a 9 medium. "Besides," she continued, "they're just plain white shoes like some of your old ones. Nobody can tell anything by looking at them, and white will go with a lot of your golfing outfits. The important thing is, are they comfortable?" I had to admit they were, and I eventually agreed to try one pair and see how they worked out. As for the rest of the clothes, I was able to find a few polo shirts and belts in the men's section, but pants were another matter. There had been a run on the smaller men's sizes that day and the stock was depleted. I refused to go into the women's section so Karen told me she would find something for me. She marched into the women's section and returned about fifteen minutes later with two shopping bags. I just assumed that she had bought more pants like the ones I was wearing, and maybe that wouldn't be too bad. At least nobody was laughing at me for wearing Karen's pants. When we got back to the motel Karen opened one of the bags and pulled out three pairs of women's slacks. One pair was black, another yellow, and the 3 rd pair was a light red that was practically pink. "Pink pants?" I exclaimed. "They're not 'pink,' they're light red. It's not a big deal," Karen said dismissively. "Lots of guys have been wearing rose-colored clothes, and these were all I could find." "I guess," I admitted, acknowledging the truth of her statement. "It's just that... I mean now that I... that we guys have - changed - it seems like..." "Look, why don't you try them on and see how they fit? We can discuss colors after we know if I got the right size," Karen suggested, and I shrugged and took the slacks to the bathroom. The first thing I noticed was that all the slacks were a size 10 regular, whatever that meant. I was used to pants being sized by the waist and inseam, and women's sizes were a mystery to me. I hoped that whatever had happened would reverse itself, and that I wouldn't have to learn about women's sizes. In the meantime I pulled off the tan slacks I was wearing and picked up the black ones. Immediately I saw a problem - the zipper was on the side, not in front. "Aw shit!" I uttered. "What's the matter?" Karen asked from the other side of the door. "The damned zipper is on the side," I told her. "Yeah, I know," she replied. "The pickings were thin. The saleswoman said that a lot of guys and their wives had been in earlier today looking for the clothes. These were the best I could find. Just try them on for size and I'll see if I can find something more masculine looking tomorrow." "Alright," I sighed. The pants all fit okay, and though my hips seemed to have grown an inch or so they weren't nearly as wide as a woman's would be so the slacks weren't tight. They did look weird without a front zipper or clasp, but when I moved my body in a simulated golf swing I discovered they were comfortable enough. "This is too weird," I breathed to myself as I leaned against the sink and closed my eyes. Karen looked at me with a practiced eye and nodded her head. "They'll do for now," she pronounced, and handed me the second bag she had carried out of the store. When I peeked in the bag I saw some socks and several pairs of panties. I groaned at the sight of the panties, but Karen was ready for my objections. "The socks are similar to men's socks and they'll fit your smaller feet. The panties are the plainest I could find and you'll need them. You can't wear your old boxers now - You'll need something you can put a pad in when you, I mean -- If --you have a period. "And that brings up another point," she continued. "If all you men are fully functional, if you get my drift, you'll need 'protection' to prevent pregnancy. I think you should start taking my contraceptives until you can get to a doctor." I sunk down on the bed and dropped the bag on the floor, staring listlessly at my groin. "Oh shit... "I moaned, considering the full implications of my transformation for the first time. Up to that point I had deliberately set aside any thoughts of sex, but Karen had cut to the heart of the matter, and I was both terrified and humiliated at once. Karen sat down beside me and put her arm around my shoulders. "I know it's a lot to absorb," but we have to face the new reality we're in," she said softly. "I have almost two months of birth control pills, and I really think you should start taking them - at least until we can get you to a doctor." She stood up and went into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and a small white pill. "Here, take this now, and take one every morning. There's no way you will be able to compete if you're pregnant." When she put it that way I realized I had to take the damn things. Golf or no golf, I did not want to become pregnant. ____________________ The next morning I awoke curled up on my side. When I glanced over my shoulder at Karen I saw that she was still asleep, lying on her back with her legs apart. She seemed huge compared to her former size, and I had to remind myself that the reason she seemed so large was that, while she had grown a few inches I had shrunk by about the same amount. My former 2" height advantage had become a 5" deficit. As I contemplated what that meant I noticed that there was a small mound in the blanket around her midsection, and I suddenly realized that my wife was having an erection - "morning wood" - just as I used to have. That thought actually startled and frightened me, and I had to resist the urge to scramble out of bed and lock myself in the bathroom. Karen hadn't done anything that would make me think she would take advantage of my humiliating condition, but she had brought up contraceptives the previous night, and I wondered if she was planning anything. I didn't think so, but I resolved to be on my guard - just in case. I slipped out of bed without waking Karen and grabbed some clothes and tip-toed into the bathroom. After sitting down to relieve myself I cleaned myself off and picked up a pair of the panties Karen bought for me. The least objectionable ones I could find were a white nylon, bikini style. I was grateful they didn't have lace or any other frills, and I squirmed into them, doing my best to ignore what I was doing. I stepped to the mirror, which seemed a little higher than when we checked in, and shaved my face and brushed my teeth. The socks Karen had bought for me were almost exactly like my old socks, except they were a little bit thinner, but nobody would notice anything unusual about them. I pulled a red golf shirt over my head and stepped into the black slacks. After tucking in the shirt I zipped up the side zipper and stepped back to examine myself in the mirror. I didn't look terribly different, but the lack of a fly in the slacks was a dead giveaway that things were anything but normal. Suddenly Karen knocked on the bathroom door. "Honey, I really need to get in there for a moment. Do you mind?" She asked. I opened the door. "Be my guest," I told her as I stepped out. Karen rushed in and closed the door, and I heard the toilet seat being lifted. Moments later the splashing sound of masculine relief came through the door. I turned away, feeling queasy about the fact that my wife now had a fully functioning penis. Of course all women did now, but that didn't change the fact that our relationship was almost certain to change drastically. I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye when she returned to the room. "If you're going to practice we'd better get going," she observed, and I nodded my head and slipped my feet into my leather sandals. They were too large for me, but the socks I was wearing helped and I grabbed my clubs as we left the room. After five minutes at the driving range it was obvious that I would need new clubs. The old ones had been custom made for me - like all professionals had - and the feel was way off now. Even gripping down a couple inches didn't seem to cure the problem, so I got out my cell and called my supplier to order a new set. Fortunately they were still operating - many businesses were closed due to the Great Exchange - and they were prepared to make me a new set as soon as I could get there to be measured and analyzed. My supplier was a thousand miles away so we went back to the motel to pack and check out. While I was finishing up Karen came to me with the small pink plastic case containing her birth control pills. "You forgot to take one this morning," she admonished me. Don't forget again." I took the case and looked at it for a moment before looking up into her eyes. Her statement sounded a lot like an order, and I bristled at being told what to do, but before I made a snide comment I considered the implications of unprotected sex and went into the bathroom for a glass of water. For the next two days we practically lived in the car, and we both grew tired of fast food. When we finally arrived at the supplier all I wanted to do was get measured and have my swing analyzed so we could check into a decent motel and rest up for the next tour stop. The technician asked me a lot of questions and weighed and measured me, before handing me a trial driver for the computerized swing analyzer. "Your swing speed is down over thirty miles per hour," he told me, adding, "but that appears to be normal for the guys now. I think we'll lighten the clubs and shorten them about an inch and a half. That should help you with the speed, but I'm not sure about distance." The new, lighter clubs did help a little, but I was still 20 mph slower than before. That depressed me, but I took comfort in the fact that my strength had always been in my short game and putting. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad, I hoped. We checked into a motel and Karen brought my old clubs in while I hit the bathroom. I had been feeling pretty crappy all morning and now I really had to go. After putting the seat down I sat down to relieve myself, and when I finished I wiped, as was my new norm. But as I got up I noticed a reddish tinge to the water in the bowl, and my heart sank. I didn't need a medical degree to know I was having a period. I couldn't help it - I broke down and cried, and when Karen heard me she came in the bathroom and saw the problem immediately. "Sit down and pull your panties down," she ordered as she rummaged in her suitcase. She turned back to me with a few items in her hands and stooped down so she was eye level with me. "I knew this would happen," she informed me, "so I'm prepared. But first we're going to have a little talk," she told me, and then she proceeded to tell me everything she felt I needed to know about feminine hygiene, and it was a lot to take in, especially with my emotions completely out of control. When I calmed down a little she showed me how to insert a tampon and how to affix a pad to my panties. She warned me to change my tampon and pad frequently, especially during "high flow" times, and she also gave me some pills for the cramps and headache, and even discussed douching. By the time she was done I was completely cowed and humiliated, and ready to follow her instructions to the letter. I pretty much slept or laid about the rest of the day. I felt uncomfortable and depressed, and I didn't believe it when Karen suggested that chocolate would help lift my spirits, but after she left and brought some back I became a believer. The chocolate really did seem to lift my spirits, though I wasn't feeling wonderful either. My clubs were ready the following day and I went to the company to pick them up. They had a practice range right at the factory, and I hit about 100 shots, using every club in the bag. I discovered that my 290 yard drives were a thing of the past. My longest drive was only 265, and most were in the 250-255 yard range. I lost about 15-20 yards from my irons too. On the bright side I was still pretty accurate around the greens, and I hoped that would improve as I got used to the new, lighter swing weight of my clubs. I planned to practice two more days before heading to our next stop. By the time we left for the next stop my "flow" was down and I was getting by with just a pad. The cramps and headaches were also gone, and I hoped I would never experience another period, but I knew that was wishful thinking. Karen had added a little to my golf outfits, and general wardrobe, and I now had some shoes that fit, though they were women's loafers, with tassels and a slightly higher heel than normal. That didn't bother me as much as I would have imagined because the higher heel gave me nearly an inch of extra height, which I felt was a good thing. I even looked into getting golf shoes in a slightly higher heel, reasoning that the extra height would increase my swing arc and give me a few extra yards. On a personal level I was still taking the contraceptives religiously. It was fast becoming part of my morning routine, and I didn't feel the shock and humiliation as much as time passed. I reasoned that all of us guys were in the same boat, and there was nothing we could do about our new situation. My practice round went fairly well, but I was definitely one of the shorter hitters on the tour. Most of the guys were driving 270-280 yards, and a few were even approaching 300, though only a handful could hit that far. I estimated I would have carded a 3 under 69 if I was keeping an accurate count, but that wasn't the purpose of a practice round. I wanted to see how the greens ran from various angles, how the bunkers played, the slope and cut of the fairways and rough - all the things that would come in handy in the tournament. Unfortunately my good play didn't carry over to the next day, and I finished the first round +4 and 8 strokes back. At the end of Friday's round I was 6 over and failed to make the cut. I hung around and spent a lot of time on the range and putting green on the weekend, but I couldn't see any significant improvement. We left Sunday afternoon and headed to the next stop. We got to the location a day early, and I went out to the course to get some work in. While I was there I watched a little of the Monday qualifying round. I was surprised to see there were three women in the field, and at least one of them seemed to be doing okay. She was about my old height and she could really hit her driver. She was banging the ball about 285- 290, which put me to shame, and the other two weren't too bad either. It turned out that they all qualified. As I hit a bag of balls, practicing my short irons, I realized it wasn't really surprising to see a few women try the men's tour. The women's tour didn't have much in terms of "feeder" tours, and the ones they did have didn't have any money to speak of. The men's tour was more developed, and had bigger purses. Now that women were taller it made sense that they could hit the ball further, and that some could compete with the guys. I didn't think many women would be able to make a living on the men's tours, but a few might. When I stopped and thought about that I realized that having women on the tour meant more competition for me, which I didn't need at that point. The fact that I was one of the shortest hitters on the tour only made things worse. When I told Karen about the women she was interested, but she was very supportive and told me I had nothing to worry about. My anxiety level had increased by the next day when I discovered the women had claimed three of the four available spots. I drew an afternoon tee time, and by the time I stepped on the first tee Shirley Morris was 4 under par after 14 holes. That was a damn good score, and she was only one stroke off the lead with four holes to play. I set aside my fears and played pretty well. When I finished I was 1 under, but Shirley Morris had posted two birdies in her last four holes and led at 6 under. Another one of the women was 2 under, while the third was tied with me and several others in 12th place. I had avoided the lockers my first week back, but I had worked up quite a sweat that day giving it everything I had, so I headed into the player's locker room after the round. I didn't know what to expect so I was a little nervous when I entered. Since I had a late start there were only a few other players around, but I was immediately uncomfortable. Steve Smith was just coming out of the showers with a towel around his waist while Dan Kamp was sitting in front of his locker dressing. Instead of panties he was wearing something that looked almost like men's jockey shorts, except they were grey. They even had a design in the front that looked like a placket or a fly, though that had to be for style because his groin was as smooth and featureless as my own. Still, his underwear looked a lot more like what I was used to wearing, and I vowed to get some for myself. Meanwhile Steve nodded at me and turned towards his locker. As he did I saw that his nipples looked larger than a man's should, and though they only stood out a little bit they did look darker and wider than normal. Two other guys - Dale Young and Milo Fisher were standing off to one side getting ready to leave. I heard Dale say, "... and she really rocked my world." Then Milo replied, "Yeah, Sandy did the same thing. I had my doubts at first, but..." he trailed off. "Yeah, me too," Steve replied, but I love the multiples." Milo winked at him. "Gotta go," he said as he headed for the door. When I finished dressing I got in my car and headed to one of the big box stores where I was able to find some of the briefs I'd seen Dan wearing. They were called "boy shorts," and I bought six pairs. 'No more panties for me,' I thought to myself as I paid for them. Even the name sounded more masculine, and I hoped the size 10 I bought would fit. As I drove back to the motel I couldn't help replaying the snippet of conversation between Dale and Milo that I'd overheard. They had obviously been talking about having sex with their wives, which wasn't unusual for a men's locker room, but instead of the boasts about their performance Dale had talked about having his world "rocked," and Milo had mentioned "multiples," as in multiple orgasms? That was definitely a strange conversation for men to be having, yet they seemed to think it was perfectly normal, and they both had actually bragged about their wives' performance in bed. I honestly didn't know what to think about what I'd heard. Obviously men and women were having sex, and it also obvious that men were on the receiving end now, but the thought of Karen putting her penis in my vagina was... scary. The only thing I'd had inside me to that point was a tampon, and that was bad enough. I couldn't imagine something as large as Karen's cock being rammed into me. I tried to put it out of my mind, but it seemed to keep coming back to my thoughts. Finally I told myself I had a tournament to worry about, and there was no time for other things. The next day I did even better and carded a 3 under, making the cut by four strokes. Shirley Morris continued her good play and had a two stroke lead at 8 under. The other two women did well too, and they were at 4 under and 3 under respectively. I was just happy to make the cut. At least I would make some money that week, and with a little luck I might make a lot. Karen was happy with my play, and when I went to the range that evening she decided to come along. As I worked on my long irons she went to the car and got one of my old clubs and asked if I would mind if she hit a few. I told her to help herself and continued to hit my 5 iron to the practice green about 150 yards away. After a few minutes Karen started hitting the same green I was working on and I turned to congratulate her on her accuracy, especially using my old clubs, which were weighted for a man. Then I wondered how she could swing those heavy clubs with any accuracy. "Not bad at all, hon," I applauded her effort. "Aren't those clubs a little heavy, though?" "Well, maybe, but I like the way they feel," she replied in a neutral voice. "What are you hitting?" I asked, thinking she would be using a 3 or a 4 iron. "Uh, an 8," she replied softly and I turned and looked at her club. Sure enough, she was using an 8 iron to hit the same green I was hitting with a 5 iron. I worked out regularly and practiced hard - even since the Great Exchange - but my wife was out-hitting me by a lot without any practice, any workouts, and using unfamiliar clubs. I was shocked and embarrassed. Was she actually stronger than me now? Aside from my size and the obvious difference in my sexual equipment my appearance hadn't changed that much. Maybe my hips were a little wider, but my upper body still looked buff, if a bit smaller. Karen's arms didn't look any more muscular, and her torso wasn't much different, except for being a little larger - How could she be stronger than me? "You know, it's probably the longer swing arc," she said in self- deprecating tone, and I almost believed her, but a larger arc wouldn't account for that much difference in distance. But I wasn't about to start an argument over the issue. "Sure, that's it," I replied. I did well in the final two rounds and wound up finishing in 6th place, earning a nice $7,500 paycheck. Shirley Morris won the event, earning $30,000, and one of the other women finished fourth, earning $10,000. The lowest of the three women finished in 9th place and earned $5,000, and I knew that there would be more women competing in the future. This was twice as much as they could earn on the women's tour, and the competition always followed the money. Karen was excited by my good finish, and she suggested we go to a nice restaurant and celebrate. I was a little tired, but she deserved a night out so I agreed. Since I had already showered I changed while she made the reservations. My sport coat didn't fit anymore, and my button down shirts hung on me. Even tucking them in didn't help because the sleeves were far too long, so I put on a white golf shirt and the black slacks Karen had bought for me, but when I emerged from the bath room Karen told me I had to wear something else - the restaurant had a dress code. "Shirt and ties are mandatory," she told me. "But I don't have a button down shirt that will fit," I pointed out. Karen thought for a moment then moved towards the small closet. "Try this," she told me, handing me her white blouse. "Are you joking?" I asked, stunned at her suggestion. Karen shook her head. "No _ look, it's plain white, the collars are pointed, not rounded, and there are no darts or other frills. I've worn a tie with it before. I don't see any problem." I took a hard look at the blouse. It was a plain white, though the material was shiny, almost like satin. The collar points were a bit longer than normal for a man's shirt, but not that much, and though the material was thin it wasn't sheer. "Alright," I relented, but I'm getting some new clothes tomorrow. "Sure, we can use some of your winnings," Karen agreed. I reluctantly put the shirt on, and I was embarrassed that it fit me quite well. The buttons were on the wrong side and I fumbled with them a bit, but I managed to get it on. I tied a red striped tie around my neck and after tucking it under the collar I checked my reflection in the door mirror. I had to admit it wasn't too bad. The arms of the shirt were a little loose and a tiny bit floppy, but the overall effect wasn't too bad. The waiter seated us as soon as we arrived, and as I scanned the menu I noticed that there was something different about the men in the restaurant. I couldn't put my finger on it at first, then I suddenly realized it was the way they were sitting. Most of the men were sitting with their legs locked primly together, some with their lower legs canted to one side, while other sat with their legs crossed above their knees. Their posture was decidedly feminine in appearance, and when I glanced down at myself I realized my own legs were clamped together and canted to the right. I immediately sat up straight and opened my legs in a more normal, masculine pose. I scanned the dining room again, paying attention to the women this time, and I noticed that they all sat with their legs apart and their feet flat on the floor in front of their bodies, unlike the men, who tended to tuck their legs beneath them. It struck me how much the posture of men and women had changed, and I wondered what else I hadn't noticed. If something as simple as posture could change so drastically there had to be other things I simply hadn't noticed yet. Dinner was great, and we shared a bottle of wine, then a bottle of champagne afterwards, and by the time we left I was in no condition to drive. Karen's larger frame evidently hadn't been affected as much so she drove us back to the motel and actually had to help me get into the room. My head was spinning and I was definitely feeling no pain. After I used the bathroom I removed my shirt and tie and unzipped the side of my slacks. For the first time it struck me that the only item of masculine clothes I wore that night was my tie. As I draped my slacks over a chair Karen came over to me and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me passionately. "I love you very much," she whispered, sending a chill down my spine. "I love you too," I told her sincerely. "Let's continue to celebrate your victory," she suggested archly, taking my hand and pulling me towards the bed. I was in a fog and not really cognizant of what she was suggesting, but it became clear when she sat me on the edge of the bed and pushed me back. "I'm not sure we should do this," I said uncertainly, but she lay down next to me and kissed me again. "Why not, we're married," she pointed out, and I struggled to think straight. "Yeah, but..." "But -- nothing. I love you and I want to show it. I want to spend the night with my conquering hero," she said softly, and I was completely at a loss to find a reason to object. She called me her conquering hero, and she wanted to celebrate my victory. How could I turn her down? When I didn't immediately reply she bent low and kissed one of my nipples, teasing it and sucking lightly. The sensation was so wonderful I moaned out loud and I did not stop her when she slid my boy shorts off. She switched to my other nipple and I felt the same wonderful sensation. I couldn't believe they were that sensitive - they never had been before - but the feeling was tremendous, and I just let her continue. She began stroking my shoulders and sides while she continued to suck on my nipples, and I felt a curious lethargy overtake me. Everything Karen was doing felt so wonderful and I knew I should respond in some way, but I felt no need to do anything to her; no need to take the initiative at all. I was completely content to lie back and let Karen take the lead, and she was doing just great! When her fingers slipped down between my legs they felt soft and warm, and when she brushed them over the fine, soft hair I had there now it felt wonderfully erotic, and I felt my labia flower and a moistness arise within me. Karen stroked my shoulder with one hand while she placed one knee between my legs, forcing them apart a little further. Then she eased her hands across my chest bringing another moan of pleasure from deep within me. When her hand touched my inner thigh I needed no further prompting, and my legs spread completely apart, allowing her access to my most intimate place. Karen moved her other knee between my legs and bent low and kissed me again, and I responded with enthusiasm. We hadn't made love since the Great Exchange, and I felt a need for intimacy, to feel her touch, and she was drawing out that need, igniting a fire that grew by the moment. When I felt her push one finger into me I began to squirm, and when I felt another finger inside me it made my whole body shudder. She curled her fingers slightly and drew them out again, and suddenly I felt an emptiness I had never sensed before; a need to feel her in me again - deeper and deeper. But Karen wasn't ready yet and there was nothing I could do to make her move more quickly. I realized I was the passive partner now and had to await her move. My wife was in charge now, and she did something I did not expect. She lightly ran a finger over my small hooded clitoris, and the sensation was amazing. My whole body seemed to jolt and twitch, and I moaned once more, very loudly. I felt very damp now down there, and the sense of emptiness was almost too much to endure. "Do it - Do it NOW," I pleaded as I continued to squirm. "What do you want me to do?" She teased. "Take me - Fuck me," I moaned. And then I felt it - I felt her penis pushing slowly past my labia and expanding my inner cavity for the first time. I spread my legs as far apart as I could, and I lifted my groin off the bed instinctively, and I was rewarded by feeling her move into me. But then she paused and I yelled, "Do it - Take me now!" "This may hurt a bit," she told me, "but it will be much better in a moment." Suddenly she plunged down into me, and I did feel a sudden sharp pain that caused me to gasp, but the pain quickly began to ease and I felt the length of her penis pushing within me. When she withdrew I tried to lift up to follow her, but she put her hands on my hips and held me down until she was nearly out before thrusting into me again and filling me completely. It felt magnificent, and I began calling out her name. "Oh, Karen - It's wonderful!" I cried out, and that seemed to spur her on even more. Again and again she rammed her superb stud into me, and again and again I felt that glorious sensation. Suddenly the sensations I was feeling erupted in breathtaking explosion and I lost all control over my body. I screamed and moaned and thrashed about in pure ecstasy, calling out Karen's name while clinging to her with all my strength. It seemed to go on forever, and somewhere in the frenzy I felt her penis grow even larger, then I felt a strong surge of fluid discharge into the depths of my being and fill every space within me. I gasped again and felt faint as the sensations completely overwhelmed me. "My dear, you are a world-class moaner," Karen chuckled as she cuddled me to herself. It had taken some time for me to regain my wits, but I was content to just lie next to my wife with her arms around me. My thoughts wandered back to the locker room, and Dale talking about how his wife "rocked his world." Well Karen had just rocked mine, and it was amazing! There was absolutely nothing that could compare to what she had just done to me - Nothing! Sex before the switch seemed to pale in comparison. Not only was Karen very well-endowed, but she really knew how to use the equipment! I was reluctant to move, but I could feel my wife's semen leaking out of my vagina, so I slid out from Karen's embrace and padded over to the bathroom holding my hand over my vagina. In the bathroom I cleaned myself up and brushed my teeth, and as I stared into the mirror I noticed that my nipples looked dark and swollen, like Steve Smith's, and I wondered if Karen's actions had anything to do with their appearance. I was still feeling pretty wonderful from her lovemaking so I didn't think much about them. After I left the bathroom I put my boy shorts on again and slid beneath the covers and cuddled up with my wife. The next day we were off to the next tour stop, but it was only 250 miles away, and we made it before 2:00. The Monday qualifying was on again, and this time I saw that there eight women in the field trying to qualify. I had expected that, but it still meant more competition, and when five of them made the field I knew it would be a tough week. I spent most of the day on the range and the practice green, but I cut it short to work out in the excellent exercise facility they had. While I did well on the range and the green I didn't do as well in the training facility. My weights were all down, and my speed and endurance was just plain bad. No matter how I tried I could not match any of my old benchmarks, and I left feeling discouraged. Karen tried to cheer me up, but my mood carried over to the next day and she insisted that I take the day off and relax. We went for a walk and did some shopping. I got a pair of shorts and another pair of loafers - this one in black. I actually liked the way the others gave me a little extra height, so I went a little higher with the new ones - 2 ? inches, which brought me closer to my old height. Of course Karen was still nearly four inches taller than in her own loafers, which had lower heels, but every little bit helped, so I also bought some boots with the same size heels. Karen also talked me into buying a few golf shirts and some for casual wear. It didn't bother me as much as it once did to be shopping in the women's department, especially since I didn't have to try on so many shirts just to find my size. I knew I was a size 10 regular for just about everything, so I was able to go right to the rack and pull out what I needed. Karen did talk me into trying on the first shirt I picked out, though, and it was a good thing I did. While the white shirt fit I chose perfectly Karen pointed to my chest, and said, "Honey, I don't think you should wear light colored shirts without an undershirt," I looked in the mirror and discovered I was able to clearly see my enlarged nipples and areolae. They were quite a bit darker than the rest of my chest and they really stood out. An undershirt helped a bit but still did not conceal the nipples and areolae completely, so I decided to go with darker shirts. I could get away with royal blue, red, green, or anything dark, but light colors were out. That brought up another problem - I couldn't wear a white dress shirt and a tie without wearing a sport coat to cover up my problem, and the only sport coats that fit were extra small, and there weren't any of those available. Karen looked through the women's sport coats and found a couple that would work. They didn't have darts or any frills to set them apart from men's coats, but they were a bit shorter, barely coming down to my waist. Since I had to have something for sponsor promotions and my rare public appearances, I bought the two she found. One was tan and the other maroon - not my favorite color but it would have to do. Thursday rolled around and I was hoping to keep the momentum going from last week, but the results were mixed. I shot 1 under, but I was far back in the pack and the cut line looked to be brutal - maybe 3 under par. After my round I went straight back to the motel and found a note from Karen that she went for a walk. She returned about forty minutes later, wearing my old work out shorts and a bra top and running shoes. She was all sweaty and out of breath and admitted she went running instead of going for a walk. "I just had a lot of energy I needed to burn off," she explained as she entered the bathroom to take a shower. Twenty minutes later she came out looking much better, and asked if I wanted to get something to eat. I wasn't in the mood to get dressed up, so we went to a local casual restaurant. I was surprised at how much she ate, and when I commented that she had a healthy appetite she explained that she had worked off a lot of calories that day. "How far did you run?" I asked. "Five miles," she replied. "Five miles?" I was astounded. Karen almost never ran, and she certainly never did five miles before. "I was feeling frisky," she said with a grin. "Actually I still am." I looked at her and saw that the grin had turned into a leer, and I blushed and looked away. I wasn't in any mood for sexual romps, in fact I wasn't feeling too good, and I was afraid my period was about to arrive. I had hoped it hold off for a few more days, but that was not to be. In the morning I had some spotting on the pad I had used as a precaution, and there was no doubt about it. I was having my second period. It couldn't have come at a worse time, and despite the pills and having been through it before I was a wreck. Worse, it showed on the course. I shot a 6 over par score and missed the cut by 5 strokes. Once again I couldn't make it to the weekend and finished out of the money. "It was bad luck, that's all," Karen told me. "You have a rough time with your periods and the timing was lousy." "Yeah, I guess," I agreed, completely dejected. The women sure didn't have any problems, though. For the second straight week one of the women won, and they all finished in the top ten. We men were getting muscled right out of own tournaments, and the worst part was we didn't have any place to go. The women's tours were all limited to those who had been born female, while the men's tours were unrestricted. Anyone with a pulse could play. In effect we were being forced out of the game. ____________________ The following week I did a little better. With no period to contend with I finished in 16th place and won a few thousand dollars. It wasn't much but it was a lot better than getting cut. That week there over twenty women in the field and they took most of the top spots. The best finish for a man was Dan Kamp, who finished tied for 7th. About that time Karen decided to practice alongside me, and she began to get pretty good. She had always been a good golfer in college, but now she was banging the ball and seriously working on her short game. When I finished the next tournament with another small purse she suggested that, since I was due for my period the following week I should just take the week off and let her try to qualify on Monday. "You want to play the men's tour?" I asked, stunned that she would suggest it. "I've given it a lot of thought, and I don't see why not," she replied evenly. "I can hit the ball pretty far. I don't have the experience or the feel for the short game yet, but I can get better with practice. Besides, two incomes are better than one." I was humiliated that Karen felt I wasn't providing enough income and that she felt I couldn't compete during my period. What was worse though was the unspoken threat to take over my role as the provider. She seemed to be saying, "Since you can't do it, I will." "I'm playing this week, regardless of my... condition," I said quietly. "Okay, but so am I," she replied, and I was stunned. She was placing herself in direct competition with me, challenging me, and she had never done that before. "Okay Karen, if that's they way you want it," I said sullenly, and her face took on a completely different expression. "No, it's not what you think," she said with an intensity that made me turn back to her. "Look, I've tried to be supportive of your career - You know I have. But the new reality is driving me crazy. I see you struggling every week and I want to help, but all I can do is sit around and wait while you do the work. Now you have to compete against women too, and it's unfair. "My idea is to get in the game and do what I can to help - for us to be a team! We can support each other more, and I might even pick up some extra money." "But, you'll be competing against me," I pointed out, but Karen shook her head. "You didn't give me a chance to finish," she told me. "I don't think it will be an issue, but if I somehow finish the Friday round with a better score, and my presence is keeping you from making the cut, I'll drop out and you can play." "You would do that for me?" I asked. Karen's face softened. "I would do anything to help you. You're still my hero, and I've seen how hard you work at your game. Even when you're discouraged you keep trying, and I don't want anything to change that. It's just that I feel so useless just sitting around and waiting every week." When she put it like that I began to see the situation in a completely different light, and I calmed down considerably. I began to think that maybe Karen was on to something. The best case scenario was that we both made the cut and both brought home some cash, but at least she wouldn't be competing against me for a spot on the weekend. "Okay, we can try it," I told her, and she wrapped her arms around me and gave me an incredibly passionate kiss. "I knew you'd understand," she whispered softly and nuzzled my neck, sending chills down my spine. I moaned softly and she hugged me tightly. Her arms felt strong as they held me, and I felt a curious sense of comfort and security from them. Karen sat down in a nearby chair and pulled me down so I was sitting on her lap. It felt odd to be in that position, but then she ran her hands over my chest and began playing with my nipples, which seemed to expand under her touch, and I gasped as an incredible feeling radiated out from my chest through my entire body. I pressed backwards into her and felt a wonderful languid feeling wash over me. I also felt her penis grow hard and strong beneath me, and I grew excited at the memory of what had happened the first time she made love to me with her new phallus. I thrust my chest out and savored in her touch as she teased and manipulated my oversized nipples. A now familiar dampness invaded my inner recesses, and my labia once more flowered in preparation for receiving my wife's stud. Any thoughts of objecting were pushed aside when she pulled my shirt off and undid my belt. Karen stood me up and I braced myself against a table as she eased my slacks and boy shorts down my legs. I stepped out of the clothes and kicked them to one side, then I felt her hand reach to the junction of my legs and cup my vagina and I gasped again. It felt wonderful, and the moistness within me increased. "Do you trust me?" Karen suddenly asked, and I struggled to understand the meaning even as I nodded my head. "Okay, I'm going to take you from behind, and you'll really enjoy this," she told me. Before I could respond she bent me over the table and pushed my legs apart by stepping between them. A moment later I heard the sound of her zipper being lowered, and within seconds I felt my wife's penis probing my labia. My eyes went wide when she implanted her stud into me, stretching me and filling me completely. As she bored into me she also fingered my clitoris, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I was dazed from the multiple sensations coursing through me, and I moaned and shook as she rammed into me again and again. My upper body slid around the table top, and I was forced to reach out and grab the other edge of the top for stability. All the while Karen kept plunging into me, and it seemed that she was going much deeper than the first time. Her penis seemed incredibly huge, and I didn't know if it was because of the different angle, but I really didn't care. "Oh, that's, that's wonderful!" I moaned. "Keep going - Don't stop!" I begged as the pleasure continued to build. I thrust my bottom backwards, trying to meet her thrusts, but she grabbed my hips with both hands and held me secure while she had her way with me. I moaned and thrashed about, unable to do anything but respond to the glorious sensations she was creating within me. She was in complete control - and I loved it! I had never felt anything so fantastic, and I just wanted it to continue. Without warning I felt a pulsing contraction that shook my whole form, and I lost all control of myself. "Oh my - Oh, Oh -YES!" I screamed out as every fiber in my being seemed to explode with pleasure, and Karen injected me with a huge load of semen as the electricity pulsed over and over. I seemed to go on for a long time, and when it finally began to subside I could still little aftershocks that slowly faded away. I was breathing heavily as I laid my head on the table and clung to the edge to keep from collapsing to the floor. After a minute I heard the zipper again, and Karen put her arms under me and lifted my torso off the table. When she turned me around she wrapped her arms around me again and I buried my face in her shoulder. As my breathing returned to normal I realized that, while I was completely naked she was still fully dressed. She hadn't had to remove one item of clothing to send me screaming into orbit - not even her shoes. Meanwhile I felt the residue of her love leaking from my vagina and running down my leg. I finally pulled away and ran into the bathroom, hearing her amused snort behind me. I sat on the toilet for a few minutes, letting my vagina drain as I composed myself. Karen had told me I would enjoy being taken from behind and she wasn't joking. It was an amazing experience that had sent me to the heights of ecstasy and left me panting. It was easily the most wonderful sexual encounter I had ever had, and I hadn't done a thing. Karen had done it all to me. She was in complete control of everything and all I did was just hang on for dear life. I hadn't even touched her, yet she had obviously come - the juice seeping out of me was proof of that - and somehow I knew that this latest experience had re-defined our relationship. I had enjoyed being held by her, having my nipples touched and kissed, and I loved it even more when she entered me and possessed me completely. I examined my nipples as I cleaned myself and I thought they were even larger than the last time I looked. They were dark brown with a reddish tinge and they stuck out about a half-inch from my chest. They were about ?" in diameter, sitting on areolae that were the same color and perhaps an inch wide. My areolae weren't puffy, but they were slightly convex, and they were definitely not what I thought of as masculine. Yet they weren't nearly as large as most women's were. When I left the bedroom I pulled on a pair of my boy shorts and just wrapped myself in a robe. Karen was watching television and I went and sat next to her on the couch. When I sat down she smiled at me and reached an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to herself. "How are you feeling, babe?" She asked, looking down at me. I think I blushed as I leaned against her. "Wonderful!" I responded. "I told you it would be enjoyable for you that way," she reminded me, and I nodded. "You were right," I admitted. "It was fantastic - You were fantastic." Karen smiled at me and leaned down to kiss me softly. "You're pretty fantastic too," she told me. "I didn't do a thing," I reminded her, but she smiled again and said, "You don't have to do anything - You're incredibly attractive, and that's enough," She said seriously. On the Monday Karen was in the qualifying round I got up early and pulled on a clean pair of boy shorts, a red golf shirt and a pair of Karen's denim shorts along with my loafers. Since I wasn't golfing today I thought I'd follow Karen and see if I could offer some tips. When Karen finished dressing I insisted that we get some breakfast from a local restaurant. Karen loaded my old clubs in the trunk and I could tell that she was nervous, so I tried to calm her down. "Don't worry about a thing," I told her. "This is your first time in a qualifying round so don't expect too much or try too hard. The important thing is to learn everything you can so you'll do better next time if things don't work out today. Just take it one step at a time." "Thanks, babe, I really appreciate your advice - one step at a time," she repeated with a strange expression. She relaxed visibly, and seemed to enjoy the morning as we made our way to the restaurant. While we ate I told Karen what I knew about the course, such as the places near the green to avoid and good target areas for her drives. She seemed to soak up every bit of advice, and she asked lots of questions. It made me feel good that I was able to help her, and as we left for the course I realized I was the one who was ner