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A Ring Story. By Tanya H. After a good night on the piss, when the stars were out, the new morning was young and I was drunk, I always liked to get a donner kebab and then sit and eat it on a favourite bench in the park before I went home. My name is Paul, by the way (hi) I'm 26, single, 5'8 tall, slim and blonde. Why am I single? Debbie dumped me after she caught me kissing Ruth last month - silly, immature and stupid, but Debbie was a bit clingy anyway so I didn't miss her much. It had been a good night - I was wobbly on my feet, sloshing with lager, but happily drunk, ready for a wander home with the prospect of no commitments for rest of Saturday - beyond recovering from my hangover. Life was good, and relatively uncomplicated. I had a good job in a high street bank where I was kept busy flirting with elderly ladies and being polite and friendly to everybody else. Happy days. The kebab was delicious and I looked regretfully into the wrapper when the last of it was gone. I may have burped. I balled it up, conscientiously dropped it in the bin beside the bench and lurched to my feet ready to stagger home when a glint caught my eye in the long grass beside the bin. A ring! A fine gold ring. There was enough coordination left in my fingers to lift the trinket from the grass and enough moonlight to see it was made of three golden strands, braided into a circle and possibly too small to fit on any but my smallest finger. A woman's ring, I thought, though there was nobody around who might have dropped it. Despite the cool of the night it felt curiously warm under my fingers. Before I could really wonder why, I had pushed it against the tip of my left index finger. It went on! As though it had magically expanded, for my finger looked the same. Everything went black; as though a blanket had been thrown over me. The ground seemed to tilt and I took a hurried step sideways. A heel clicked as I stumbled. Sight returned and at first everything was as it had it been. I might have written the episode it off as the lager's fault until the night breeze lifted fine, gold stands into my eyes. I brushed them away absently. They came back. So I swept them back behind my ear. There was a metallic jangle from my wrist. Whatever it was making that noise clinked against something close to my ear and whatever that was made my earlobe swing. I distinctly felt my face crease into a frown. There was a heavyness about my chest and hips that didn't feel like a belly full of lager and kebab meat. I looked down and a high pitched cry caught in my throat. A cleavage! Soft and pale and inviting; shaded by the town's ambient light, gorgeous and womanly all the same time: impossible because it rose up beautifully from my usually flat chest. Breasts. Large ones. Cupped by a semi-sheer black top through which I could see the outline of a black bra with lace trim and a pretty little bow between the cups. I'd never worn a bra before - never having had breasts! I stared at them in a way that would have been indecent had they been gracing some lady, but they weren't. They were growing from my chest; surely I was allowed to stare. I lifted my hands to cup them, as though my vision were faulty and I could prove this to be an alcoholic hallucination by passing my hands through those impossible tits, but my hands were changed too! Somebody must have slipped something illegal into one of my bottles. Fingers that were too long and slender to be mine grew from delicate, soft hands. That jangle from my wrist came from big, coppery bangles. I wore a tiny analogue watch with a pale pink strap. Woman's hands. Woman's arms, bare up to the shoulder where they vanished under that see through top. It was hard to look past my breasts, but my staring eyes saw rounded hips and a flat fronted, bubblegum pink skirt that barely covered me to mid thigh. Beyond that - long legs, with gorgeous looking thighs gleaming under a layer of opaque black nylon and then, my poor feet, lifted out of shape and balancing in hot-pink court shoes. I did a little cow kick and glanced over my shoulder, around a curtain of blonde hair, and almost gasped at the dizzying height of the stilettos I was somehow balancing on. But how? The ring! I had changed as soon as put it on. I fumbled at it with my lady fingers, the nails were much longer and much pinker than I preferred. The ring didn't seem to want to come off, it was stiff, unyeailding. Stuck! On no, not stuck like this! Then it shifted. I gave another tug at it and the thing slipped clear, so fast it might have been greased. I dropped it. Saw a glimmer as it spun, then a hiss as it landed in the long grass beyond the path. Any semblance of dignity or feminine poise I might have had was lost as I dropped to my knees and started rummaging through the grass. I had to find the ring. It could turn me back, make me Paul again. I must have looked a sight, on my hands and knees, my widened bum in its tight skirt pointed at the sky and probably baring more than I should have been comfortable with. "Are you okay?" said a woman. I squealed with surprise and whirled around. In the darkness it took me a moment to realise who was there. The shape was bulky. She wore a domed hat. It was a police officer. "Erm," I said. My voice was too high. I was suddenly embarrassed by it, and by being caught like this. As a woman. "Would you mind closing your legs, love," she said. "There's a draught." Her voice was heavy with weary sarcasm. Brilliant. A sarcastic cop. I stood up slowly, teetered on my heels and gestured behind me. "Erm, I dropped something." "Oh. Your boyfriend in the bush is he, or somebody you found back there?" She jerked her head towards the town centre, where the night clubs were still pounding. "A ring." My voice felt too high and tight. I coughed, like that could free it up! Or give me my cock back. She tutted. "You should be careful. Girl was raped around here last Thursday. Nasty." "Oh, yes. Thanks." "Shall I help you find it? Valuable is it?" "Yes. Yes please." She had a torch clipped to the bulky kit vest over her body armour. I blinked against the sudden bright light. She shone it into the grass where I waved my elegant arm. She was blonde too, her hair was wound into a bun just beneath her hat band, her figure was lost under her kit, but as she bent over she had a nice tight bum. "Here," she said, lifting the ring up in the torchlight. "Pretty." "Thanks." I held out my hand. "Yours?" I nodded. "It's warm," she said. Her face was pretty too - bright blue eyes and a full mouth I'd love to kiss, if I were still male. She was too pretty to be a cop. "Don't do that!" I lunged for the ring. Too late. She'd slipped it on. A look of confusion, then wonder crossed her face. Only it wasn't her face anymore. Her prettyness flowed like wax into handsome. Really handsome. Strong jaw, perfectly defined, gorgeous blue eyes. She looked down. A hand groped her crotch. I knew what she was going through. "Fucking hell! I've got a cock." "Lucky you!" I mumbled. She, or he - I think it will be easier if I stick with the pronoun for the apparent gender - shone his torch right in my eyes. His other hand stayed protectively cupping his crotch. He'd only been a bloke for seconds and couldn't leave it alone already! "You did this. Sort it out, quick, or I'll lock you up. This has got to be illegal, assault police at least." I held out my hands to try and shield my eyes. "Not me! That ring, it just did it to me." "You?" He lowered the torch. "You're a lad." I nodded. "Nice tits." "Thanks." "If I take it off," he said slowly edging it along his finger. "Didn't work for me. I'd only just got it off myself, when I dropped it and then you came along." The ring was off now, held between a thumb and index finger. He didn't turn back. "Told you." "Don't piss me off any more," he growled. "Where did you get it?" "Found it. Down there." "Maybe if I..." He put the ring back on, blinked and she was back with kissable lips. "Genius!" I stepped forward. "Let me have it back so I can have my bits back." "In a minute." She stared at the ring and then replaced it. "Wow!" he said. "Like a switch. Imagine the potential for this." "I just want my body back," I said, holding my hand closer. "You enjoy your new tackle. Come on, let's have it." "Not so fast, love." He clenched his fist around it. "What's your name?" "Paul." He grinned. "Paula! Give me your phone number and I'll let you have the ring." "Seriously! Is this how you get dates in the Police?" That made him laugh. He tossed me the ring and I didn't make the mistake of dropping it again. Seconds later I was male again, feet flat on the floor and hair neatly above the collar. "You looked better before," he said. "That's your cock talking." He laughed again. It was a nice laugh, the kind of sound that made you want to smile along. "What's your name?" I asked. "Becky." We walked along towards the park exit together, in a companionable silence. All the drunkeness seemed to have been cleared from my system, I put my hands in my pockets, jiggled my genitals happily and kept my fingers tight around the ring. "Do you want it back?" I asked. "To turn back. I suppose somebody might come looking for it." "I suppose," he said. "Might be hard explaining it to my mates on the shift. Be worth exploring a bit further, don't you think? I think you should keep it, for now." I watched him change back into herself. "You look better like that." "Your cock talking?" "Still want my phone number?" That night I dreamt I was a woman. It was an intense, very sexual dream and when I finally woke, about ten in the morning, I was sticky from it. My last wet dream had been many years before. I lay there, in the warm, staring at the ceiling while the dream's images played back across my mind's eye. Becky featured prominently - in both genders. Without thinking about it my fingers encircled my swelling cock and started stroking it. Uncharacteristically quickly I rolled out of bed, opened the draw in my bedside table and seized the ring. I stared at it a moment, as though I could fathom whatever unworldly magic was woven into those strands and then I put it on. I always slept naked. Now I had a naked woman, in the flesh rather than from the internet, to admire in my bedroom. And I was certainly very admirable. I'd been given shining golden hair that streamed down my back, almost to the bottom of my shoulder blades; the firm, full breasts I'd been so surprised by last night; round, womanly hips, a gorgeous bum and long, woman-shaped legs. There was just a dusting of pale curls where my thighs met and between them, before I sat on the edge of the bed and spread them wide, just the first hit of a very interesting slit. It was hard to reconcile the rose-pink vulva I was looking down on, with its crinkled sleepy lips, and my own flesh. But when I reached down to it with hesitant, manicured fingers I felt it through my fingertips, but also through those lovely lips. I was female! Nothing else in my bedroom had changed. My dancing clothes, shirt and trousers, pants and socks, were just as I had left them on the floor near the door. All my blokey stuff was scattered around, there was nothing for a woman in here. Running my fingertips along my silky thighs a smile spread across my face. Higher and higher they went, until my legs were spread shamelessly wide and the warmth I felt between them was matched by a glistening sheen across my swelling lips. If it happened to you, you'd do the same. Wouldn't you? I fell back on the bed like I'd been toppled and soon there was a lovely, feminine mix of gasps and moans filling my room. To the stale scents of my wet dream and sweat was added the soft musk of an aroused woman as I slowly, deliberately explored every part of my changed body; from my face and neck, my arms and shoulders, calves and ankles - the curves of my ass and hot crease between them, the swollen, slippery lips and vagina beyond. While I was still gasping, my skin damp with exertions, cheeks glowing and orgasm aftershocks making me tremble I stared at the ceiling, amazed with what I had been missing as a male. And that had just been from my fingers! My phone's ringtone shook me from it like cold water had just been sluiced across me. I snatched off the ring, slipped it back on and made myself Paul again before snatching up the phone with fingers that gleamed still from Paula's cumming. "Paul?" said a woman. "Becky?" I said. "Didn't know whether it would be you or Paula," she said chirpily. "Have you tried it out again?" My cheeks went even hotter. She laughed. "I'll take your silence as a yes. Do you fancy lunch? My treat." "I never dated a cop before," I mumbled. "Me neither. 1230?" She named a decent coffee shop in the town centre and hung up before I could try and think of an excuse why I shouldn't meet her." "Did you bring it?" she asked when we'd sat down, in a secluded corner table. The shop was busy and the coffee smelt good. I ordered a latte with a toasted sandwich. She had tea and a panini. "So you're not interested in me?" I quipped. Her hair was loose around her face, her eyes were darkened from her night shift, but even without make up she looked fresh and pretty. Without her bulky kit to hide it her figure was lean, looking good in a short, black double-breasted jacket, a creamy, fitted top, tight jeans and high heeled ankle boots. She smiled. It was still a pretty smile. "That makes you sound a little needy. Of course I'm interested in you, but I only met you last night, in slightly weird circumstances, so I don't know anything about you. That thing last night, it's part of you. In my head at least." "Fair point," I admitted. "It's in my pocket. And, you were right, I had tried it again." Her eyes widened. "Really?" She leant across the table. "How was it?" "Amazing!" I started to say, but caught myself after the first syllable and felt heat in my cheeks again. "Don't be shy!" she said with that smile again. "I'd have done the same. Maybe I will. Perhaps we could take turns." "You fancy being a bloke?" "God yes! I spend my whole working life surrounded by them talking about their cocks and who they've shagged and who they'd like to shag and how amazing it is being a lad. Why wouldn't I want the chance to see if it's all bollocks or not." "It is, most of the time, bollocks." "I'm sure, it usually is," she went on after our orders arrived. "Gender's a fascinating and scary thing though. The thought of being able to hop from one to the other, wow! Makes my nipples hard just thinking about it." Then she caught me looking and laughed again. I couldn't see much of her breasts, her jacket was half closed across them, but she didn't look very big. "I've never met a girl like you." She grinned. "Whatever that's supposed to mean! Probably because I spend all my working time with blokes, did I mention that? There's only one other woman on our shift and she's... well, scary. I only know she's female because I've seen her..." Becky pointed between her legs. "You know what I mean?" "Seen it?" Becky leant close and half closed her eyes. "Tasted it." She licked her lips slowly. "Oh." My shoulders went down. "You prefer-" "Needy again!" she interrupted. "Keeps the lads on the shift a little bit in check if they think I play for the other side, but I always keep my options open. I know my way around an erection, if you know what I mean. Now you're blushing again. Like your women demur do you?" I shook my head. "No, but you're..." "What am I?" "Interrupting and good-looking and very interesting." "Which is most important?" "Well, what you just said about knowing your way around is important, looks are too - I won't lie about it - but I do like having a good conversation before and after sex." "Does this count as a good conversation?" she asked, with such an expression of childlike innocence I laughed aloud. For awhile, as we ate and drank, we talked on more conservative ground. I learnt she had been a police officer for 3 years, generally enjoyed it, and came from a bland town, way up north, fifth child with four brothers, each of them in the Army, Navy or Marines - never the Air Force. Apparently her Dad wouldn't have approved of that. She'd been in the army herself, in the signals, and seemed mildly surprised that all I had ever done had been the bank. She was single. Apparently men were scared of dating cops. "Are you scared?" she wondered. "Are we dating?" She waved her hand at our empty plates and cooling cups. "You took me for lunch - hello!" "Scared? No I'm not." I found some courage from somewhere. "This is the most interesting lunch I've had for ages. And you, you're the most interesting person I've come across for almost as long." "You should get out of that bank and work with me, then you'd meet some interesting people. Shall we have a walk? Do you like walking?" Spending more time with Becky was a very appealing idea. I excused myself, needing the little boys room, but as I stood she caught my arm. She had very pretty hazel eyes and they were locked into mine. "The ring," she said softly. "Can I try it?" "In here!" "Nobody's watching us." "Seriously?" "Curiously." For a moment I was almost reluctant to give it up, my fingers closed protectively around it, but I made myself smile and dropped it into her palm. I locked myself into the toilet, half expecting to hear some screaming or shouting in response to her use of the magic. When I returned there was a man sitting at my table, looking my way with a wolfish grin. "Told you nobody would care," he said as I sat down. The eyes were same, the face recognisably Becky's, but harder and leaner. His jacket had a definite masculine cut, his boots were now flat. "Happy now?" I asked. "Is it weird if I say yes?" I shook my head, remembering my performance with the ring and my fingers earlier. He put it down on the table with a slight click and pushed it towards me. "Your turn." I hesitated, before letting my fingers rest on it - still warm. He crossed his legs, at the knee, and then laughed. "I don't cross my legs any more, I'm a man, I sit with my legs apart, like this, so everybody can see what a man I am!" His jeans were quite tight. "Come on, Paula. Put it on." "I'm not sure," I murmured, but the tip of the longest finger on my left hand was edging towards it. "Come on, don't be shy. Put it on." "And who left you in charge?" He grinned again. "You have to do what I say." He pointed with both hands towards his crotch. "For I have a cock!" An elderly lady a couple of tables across looked around sharply at that. He apologised readily, complimented the lady on her broach and she turned away with a unwilling smile. While Becky was flirting I held the ring in the palm of my hand, felt its slight weight and eerie warmth. Without closing my eyes I could see that gorgeous woman looking back at me from the bedroom mirror. Recalling the sensations while I'd made love to myself brought an immediate response from my cock. Nobody in the cafe appeared to have noticed Becky's change. The wild notion of making myself into a woman, here in a comfortable public space, was suddenly too attractive to resist. Like before, there was no immediate sensation of change, no electric tingle or dizzyness or anything like that. I put the ring on, everything went momentarily black and then I was female. I pushed some hair behind my ear and smiled shyly at the way his eyes widened. "Paula, you are really easy on the eyes." I was resolutely not looking down, watching him carefully, but I could see my hand resting on the table in front of me, the ring gleaming on it, and my nails were long and oval and mediterranean blue. He leant closer and whispered, presumably conscious of his earlier outburst. "And you have gorgeous boobs." I didn't need to look, for I could feel them - heavy and soft, but I glanced down anyway and saw I was still wearing a black t-shirt, with a grandad collar, that was tightly outlining a pair of large, round breasts. There were straps across my shoulders, a band around my back and a definite absence between my legs. "It's rude to stare," I said. "I'm sorry," he said, looking away and he meant it. I liked him, her - I really did. Was that why I'd put the ring on, here in a busy coffee shop. Nobody appeared to have noticed. "Shall we walk, Paula?" "I seem to be wearing heels," I said. I could feel them, pushing my feet up - though not as high as those bright pink stilettos I'd found myself in the night before. "A steady walk, on even ground then," he suggested. "Can I see? Your shoes I mean." They were boots, lace up calf-length boots with a Victorian look about them and an elegant heel, only a couple of inches high. My thighs were draped in a maroon, flared skirt. I tugged at the hem, but it wouldn't cover my knees. Between hem and boots my legs were sleek and matt in sheer, natural shaded nylon. "Very smart," he said approvingly. "Love those boots, I have a pair like that, with higher heels. I wonder if they changed as well." I shook my head. Hair tumbled around my face again. "This morning, when I did it, only I changed - none of my stuff." "What about you clothes?" I help her gaze. "I wasn't wearing any." "Good girl." That made me snort with amusement, being called a girl - but that's what I was, to all intents and purposes. "How do you feel?" he asked. I shrugged. "Weird, but surprisingly comfortable." "Me too." He grinned. "Walk?" "Really?" He stood and held out a hand. I took it without hesitating. Then he frowned and looked down the side of his chair. "My handbag's gone!" "You'd look bizarre with it." "All my stuff!" "Check your pockets. That's where we carry our stuff." My skirt didn't have pockets, but beside my chair was a black, leather shoulder bag and while Becky turned from his pockets a respectable heap of purse, phone, lipstick, mascara, mirror, tampons, condoms, notebook, pencil case, mints, car keys, house keys, receipts and tissues, I delved into the handbag and found my wallet, phone, change and keys. Inside the wallet was my driving licence in the name of Paul Louis Palmer, bank cards for Mr PL Palmer, and all the other things I would use while being Paul. We sat again and compared belongings. "We'll be okay unless we get stopped and searched," Becky said. "I never really realised how much stuff I carried around with me." I held open my handbag, "Plenty of room in here." He smiled, but declined. "I don't think I should keep calling you Becky," I said, closing my handbag and slipping the strap over my shoulder. "Me neither," he said. "Yours was easy, Paul to Paula, but I don't think there's masculine version of Rebecca. "Your middle name?" "Jemma." "James?" "Good idea," he said, then gave me that grin again. "Jim. Makes me feel like a rough, tough, take no prisoners kind of Jim." "That old lady's staring again." He gave a short laugh. "She probably thinks you're too good for me." With Rough Tough Jim in tow I clicked my way out of the cafe without attracting too much attention. I think if anybody had stared I'd have run, screaming, for the toilets, but most people were too engrossed in their laptops/phones/conversations. I found myself glancing down at my legs, for the skirts faint touch around them wasn't enough to assure there was anything there. I'd worn shorts plenty of times and there was always the feel of them around your legs, but now with my legs only covered by sheer nylon and a light skirt I felt practically naked. The sea breeze outside was cool and swirled both skirt and hair around me. "Which way?" he asked. "Let's go along the sea front," I suggested for, despite the autumn feel to the day, it was bright and sunny. "I always like the beach." "Don't try the sand in those boots," he suggested. "I've tried before, in heels, not elegant at all." So we walked along the promenade. I tried to stop my hips rolling at first, I tried to step out the way I was used to, but even though those heels on my transformed boots were only a couple of inches they still preferred it if I stepped short. The way my hips moved meant my flared skirt swished and swirled around my thighs and once the sea breeze started playing with it too I started holding it down, self consciously as though I were going to do a Marilyn Monroe. "It won't fly up," Jim said, watching me tugging at the hem again, "they hardly ever do, but the boys will stare until their eyeballs dry out on the off chance that it might." He was right. I would have done. At first I wanted to put an arm across my chest to stop it bouncing. I'd never felt such flabbyness before, I'd always kept myself trim. Now I had two balls of fatty tissue bumbling around with a rhythm of their own. And hair kept blowing in my eyes. It was all very frustrating. "Do you actually like being female!" I snapped, trying to press long, golden locks behind my ears. James smiled patiently. "I love it. But I'm also loving the thing between my legs. Boy, you can't forget it can you." "Wait until you zip it into your flies!" "Ouch! Stand still a minute, let me do something with your hair." "I'm going to change back!" His smile dropped. Jim stopped looking through his pockets and cocked head slightly. "Is it really that bad?" I sighed. "Just strange. Everything..." I waved helplessly towards my boobs. "It handles differently." "Give it a bit longer. You really are very pretty." Nobody had ever called me that before. "Especially when you smile." I grimaced instead. I'd go along with this for a little bit longer. "What are you going to do with my hair?" He produced a hairbrush and then a black hair elastic, told me to turn my back and after a few minutes work I was given a ponytail and then a plait. I ran may hand along it, impressed with the orderly pattern he'd made, despite the wind. It was long enough to drape over my shoulder and the feathery tip brushed the swell of my breast. "I'll have you show you how to do that," he said. "French plaits are the best, really neat and tidy and feminine, but a simple one like that will do to start with." I gave the plait an experimental tug. It was all so ridiculously real. "Let's walk down the pier," he suggested. And we did. I've always liked the pier, all piers in fact. If ever I end up some seaside place where there's a pier, or even a jetty, just a breakwater will do, I have to have a stroll along it. Even the click click click of my sensible heels and the cooling wind through nylons didn't detract from the pleasure in being over the sea. We had ice cream and coffee, in separate locations. We rode in the big wheel in the fun fair, down at the seaward end, and laughed in the sunshine, pointed at the distant buildings on the promenade, joked about our caboose jumping from the wheel and skimming over the wavelets onto the beach. It was all lovely. When I felt his hip touch mine, on the bench where we had our lattes, I felt so content I didn't edge away like I would have done normally - had a man sat so close to me. "Can I take a picture of you?" he asked, when he'd come back from binning our paper cups. "Like this?" I'd almost forgotten my changed gender. Looking down I saw I had crossed my legs, at the knee like a lady, right over left, and sight of my legs bared between boots and hem was a sudden shock - like I had quite forgotten I was female. "I want to remember this afternoon for ever." "Okay. How do I look?" "Windswept and gorgeous." He looked at me through his phone screen, instructed me to sit up straight and smile. "Smile properly!" Then, "One more? Please?" I sat up straight, put my hands on my knee demurely, then with a sudden rush of happy mischief I smoothed back my skirt's hem until almost all my right thigh, maybe a little of my bum, and the lace band that said I was wearing hold-up stockings was bared to his lens. The phone dropped and he grinned at me while I modestly rearranged the skirt. "Naughty!" "Don't you like my legs?" I pretended to pout. "They're the best ones I've had flashed at me today. I had been wondering whether you'd been gifted with tights or stockings. Now stand up with your back to the railings so I can get the sea in as well." So I stood and posed for him, keeping my skirt down, as there were a few people ambling along now, including a rather austere woman, of sixty perhaps. She stared at me for a moment as though she was going to call me a whore wearing a skirt that bared my knees to the world. The she smiled and offered to take a shot of us together. Jim accepted before I could speak, handed over the phone and stood beside me. "Put your arm around her then, don't be shy," the lady ordered, in the kind of tone that said she might be a PE Teacher, or Headteacher in a really rough school. Jim put his arm around my shoulder, cuddled me close and I let him. "You do make a lovely couple," she said handing the phone back. It felt a little odd to find myself male again when we parted company an hour or so later. Becky had another night shift coming up and needed a couple of hours sleep to set herself up. I let her have the ring for the night, I suggested it was her turn and she readily accepted. "Wasn't it fun?" she pressed, before swinging her legs into her car. "It was fun," I admitted. "Really weird, but fun." "Shall we do it again? Say yes. I know a great little pub, we could have dinner. Friday. I'll pick you up at 7.30. Say yes." What else could I do? It was a date. As I walked home I wondered if I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend now? Or both, all the same time. The thought made me smile. It was quite exciting. Though I had let Becky take her turn with the ring, I dreamt of my body changed and female again. I was dancing in a gauzy dress that lifted and swirled around my legs that gleamed in sheerest nylon, light on my feet in fine stiletto heels as though I had been born to dance in them. Then, when my skin was glowing and my breath came heavy from the dancing, I fell into Rebecca's arms and kissed her as though I were dying and she was the cure. I woke, with the moon lighting the room and my cock hard in my hand. I lay there for a moment, panting from the dream's intensity before my hand began slowly, almost without conscious effort, moving up and down my erection. As a masturbated, my thoughts weren't on Rebecca though - they were all Jim; his cock was in my hand, his hands were on my aching breasts and as I came with an intensity I hadn't known for some time, I was imagining how it would feel to be naked and on my back, spreading my legs and inviting him inside me. The week dragged, we exchanged a few texts, and a couple of calls, before Friday finally crept up. Dinner came and went with a tingling anticipation that somehow, somewhere, she and I were going to end up in bed together. We shared a kiss when I got in her car and then talked on inconsequential things as though we were just any other couple getting to know each other. "Did you?" I pressed, leaning across the table, waiting for our meal and holding her hands. "Silly question," she said with a grin. "What a glorious mess I made! That feeling, when your balls all clench up ready to blow! Wow! I know why you pull such funny faces now." "I was half expecting to be having dinner with Jim." "Were you? I've a treat for you first, and besides, I felt the need to affirm my girlyness by getting all tarted up." She looked neither girly nor tarty, but dazzling in a fitted, black dress, her hair pinned up, elegant in strappy heels. I was hoping for the opportunity to run my hands over the sensual nylon shading her smooth legs. Sure that I had seen the outline of suspenders through her narrow dress, the thought of gently exploring the warmth underneath was making me tingle happily. As much as undressing and exploring her body sounded treat enough I was hoping our ring might have some part to play too. I was not disappointed. After an excellent meal, she drove us to the city centre police station where worked, parked up and then led me by the hand towards the lights and sounds of the awakening, nocturnal life. "Are you ready for your treat?" she asked, pulling me to a stop at a darkened section of the road, between street lamps. There was a pub just ahead, with a knot of smokers gathered around the door. It was a place I'd never been too, its rainbow clientele were well known through town. "What have you got in mind?" She answered with a long hard kiss, slipping her tongue between my lips and pressing her curves tight to me. Reaching around, she clasped my bum and pulled my growing cock against her mound and rubbed it delightfully over me. I embraced her, explored her back as I sank into the joy of her kisses, then let my hands go lower and did find, with an extra rush of excitement, the line of a suspender running from her waist down towards her imagined stocking tops. Becky pulled my hands from her bum, squeezed my fingers and brushed her mound across my swollen cock again. She reached into my trouser pocket and I gasped to feel her fingers confidently touching my cock. So surprised that she should be so open and forward on the side of the road, I didn't realise at first what she was doing. My breath caught when I realised what was pushing her breasts away from me. As hot as I was feeling the night air was cool across my legs and there was no pocket for her hand to be in and no cock for her to caress in there. Our lips were slick and moist as they swirled in our continuing kiss, now her mound was rubbing across my own and instead of an erection there was an urgent heat and slipperyness between my legs. Eventually she pulled back, held me at arms length and looked me up and down. "Paula, you are so easy on the eyes. Gorgeous. I love your dress." It was a similar style to her own; fitted and knee length, but mine was the same wine red of the shirt I had been wearing and cut lower over the chest to bare the swell of my breasts and enticing line of my cleavage. My arms were bare, my legs sensual in sheer, black hosiery. My rather smart evening shoes had been transformed into black satin and lace court shoes, with what felt like a platform sole and towering stiletto heels. Through their open toe my big toenails shone hot pink through the nylon. A small, black satin purse hung from a narrow strap over one shoulder. I had a little wobble, feeling over tall and precarious. "What do you think?" she said. "Mind blowing!" "You need a drink, gorgeous. Come on." "I daren't move!" That made her laugh, she pulled me off balance and didn't give me chance to think about what I was doing. It was either hurry along after her or fall flat on my face. Our heels filled the air with a feminine chatter as she towed me towards the pub. She laughed again. "You've picked up instantly what it took me weeks to learn." "Slow down," I protested, but I laughed too. It was so ridiculous it was funny; clipping along, breasts bouncing, dress swishing around my legs with a beautiful woman clutching my hand in a death grip - as though I was going to run away. "Aren't you going to change?" I asked as the pub closed and the smokers and bouncers around the door started showing us some attention. "God no! We'll never get in here if they think we're a hetero couple! Stop pulling on my arm or they'll think we're straight girls looking for adventure." There was no chance of that. Both bouncers greeted Becky by name, pushed some other partygoers aside to make room for us both. "You always looking better out of uniform, Bex," said the taller of them looking her up and down boldly, before having a good long look at my boobs. "New girlfriend?" While my face went warm with a blush Rebecca put her arm around my waist and pulled me close. "Just showing her a good night out." Her hand dropped from my waist and patted my bum affectionately. Then we were in, my first visit to a gay pub and pretending the role of the lipstick lesbian. As she steered me towards the bar, with her arm around my waist and our hips pressed intimately together, she kissed my ear and then said something that made fire run through my veins to concentrate wholly on the newer, unfamiliar parts of my body. Despite everything going on around me, even with everything I was trying to take in with the way I moved in these shoes and with these curves I still felt, distinctly, my nipples swelling and crinkling hard inside my bra. "I'm going to make to wish you had never been born a boy tonight." We walked back to her flat, I'm still not sure what the time was, but it must have been the next morning and I was giggling drunk. I'd danced so much my feet were killing me and the pavement was unforgiven through my stockings - which I'd torn at some point - while I carried my stilettos. I must have looked a state; lipstick smeared, hair falling down, laddered stocking, unsteady on my feet and giggling at the slightest thing. The amount I'd drunk meant I was well used to the ritual of peeing from this female form and was almost over the surprise of lifting my dress to be confronted by lace stocking tops, black satin panties and a very pretty pussy. However, I didn't seem to have much bladder capacity. "We should have taken a taxi, how far is it, I'm desperate for a tinkle again?" Becky frowned and stared around her, like she didn't know where she was. "Ten minutes, tops." I squirmed, instinctively pressing a hand at the top of my thighs, in a very undignified manner, trying to ease the pressure. "Won't make it. I'm going to wet myself. Give me the ring, I'll nip down that alley, have a piss and change back again." She just laughed at that, took me by the hand again and while we both giggled and propped each other, we squatted just of view from the street, lifted out dresses and pulled our panties to one side. "What if somebody comes?" I whispered. It felt like I'd never stop. I was trying not to splash my feet. "What if the police come?" Becky hiccuped while she rearranged her knickers. "I am the police." I tried to squeeze harder. "Seriously though." "Well..." she said, watching. "How much have you had to drink? If some cops turn up who I don't know, all we have to do is flutter our eyelashes - like this. Then you toy with the hem of your dress suggestively, push your boobs out and ask them if there is anything you can do to make the problem go away." "Oh my god! Do people still do that." "God, yes! All the time, to me and the boys. Never accept an offer like though, if you ever become a cop - job-loser that one! Come on, pull your knickers up and let's get home." At first I held her hand, bumping our hips together in a companionable way. Then I put my a around her waist and she put her hers around mine and her hair blew in my face and made me laugh with happiness to be so close to this amazing woman. Then she stopped and pulled me close so our breasts were pressed warm together and we kissed and kissed and kissed and even a taxi driver honking his horn in disgust, support, or arousal didn't stop us. I could hardly breath when we at last broke the kiss. My lips were burning, my nipples pointed through the dress and there was a wet ache thumping between my legs I had never felt before. "You're making me so hot," I murmured, my hands resting on her hips. "I hardly even started yet." She lived in a tiny terraced house, almost identical to the ones stretched away on each side. The hall was narrow, the rooms small, but prettily furnished and immaculate. It smelt clean and feminine. "Do you want wine?" I shook my head, flopping into her sofa and closing my eyes while the room whirled a little. "I think I've had enough." When I opened my eyes again she was shrugging her dress off and in the dim light her pale skin contrasted with the gorgeous, black lace bra, panties and suspender belt she had dressed herself in. Never lifting her eyes from mine she paced over to me, swung her leg over my knees and let her weight fall on me. Through the bra's lace cups her nipples were dark and hard, her thighs were parted wide and there was a smear of dark hair showing through the panties and the outline of her lips below. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked at me like a particularly happy cat. Then she licked her lips. "Are you ready?" she said. I had a moment's dislocation when I started caressing her skin, where her waist flowed into her hips; were they really my hands with the slender fingers and the oval, hot-pink nails. They must be, for I could feel her warm, smooth skin with them. When I glanced down and saw a cleavage boldly exposed by the wine red dress I'd been clothed in the feeling got worse - like this was some kind of dream. I brushed the tips on my nails around her waist, brushed my thumbs around her tummy button where a red jewell glittered prettily. Goosebumps lifted across her skin and she sighed happily. I was doing that to her, with my girl hands. I lifted them, caressed every so gently the undercurve of her breasts and she signed again, closing her eyes and stooping to kiss my forehead. "Does it feel a little weird?" she murmured. I was caressing her arms, staring at her beauty, imagining how it would feel to breath the softest kiss over her nipples. "Weird and wonderful." My hips were rocking all on their own and it felt like I was melting right at the top of my thighs. "Is this really happening, like this?" She laughed aloud. Pulled from my caresses and took my hands. Almost too fast for my drunkenness and narrow dress she dragged me upstairs, hauled into a bedroom that overlooked the street and was made warmly orange from the street lamps. She pushed me in front of a long mirror that was so close to her deep, wide bed and stood behind me, scooping some hair aside so she could peep over my shoulder. "What do you see, Paula?" She kissed my neck, then nipped me gently. I felt her easing down my zip, the dress went slack around my shoulders and she pushed it over my arms, teased over my hips and let it pool around my feet. "Still seeing a man there?" She traced elegant whorls and loops across my skin while I took in the woman there, the woman I was. In dark red bra and panties, my black, lace topped hold ups I was eye-catching gorgeous. My lips were parted, my breathing deepening, my cheeks flushed. After a moment's fumbling the bra went slack around me, she took the straps down my arms and threw it into a corner of the room before running her hand up my flanks to cosily cup my big, bared breasts. My nipples pushed into her palms and I sighed, leaning my head back against her and she kneaded them. In all the times I had enjoyed a woman's breasts I had never imagined it would be so divine to enjoy such feelings in breasts of my own. And then I was naked, stripped of even my ruined stockings, lay back across the bed, watching with half closed eyes as Becky stripped away her own lingerie, feeling a brief wash of cool bedroom air across my engorged pussy as she slowly pushed my thighs apart, opening to her gaze the place that was changed the most. The state of my arousal must have glistened, even in the dim light, for she gasped and smiled and then said, as she took her place between my legs, "Oh my god, Paula. You can hardly know what's happening to you." As she had promised, I hadn't felt anything yet. Words can't come close to capture the ways she made me feel with her tongue, her lips, fingers and sometimes her teeth. When my back was arched, when I grasped handfuls of the bedding, begged her to stop and then squealed with frustration when she teased by doing just that; when I felt I was going to wet myself with pleasure, when the heat was so much I though I would just sublime into a puddle, when I was sure I couldn't take any more she finally gave me what my reworked body was so desperate for. And then when I was barely able to catch my breath, she did it again and I practically cried with the joy of it. While the trembling slowly subsided, when my heart began to calm and breathing soften, she wrapped me in her arms, pressed her breasts to my back, stroked my cheek and smoothed my tangled hair. Her lips tasted of musk and I relished the taste of my pussy on her tongue. "I don't know if I can do that for you," I murmured, "but I'm ready to try." She kissed me some more, a hand cupped my breast, the other lay comfortable over my mound. "How was it as a woman?" "Is that how it feels every time?" I felt her shake her head slightly. "Sometimes you hardly feel a thing, like you're going through the motions just to make somebody happy." "Ah." "But sometimes, when everything comes together - pow! Fireworks!" "I want to do that for you." She squeezed her embrace a little tighter. "I want you to, but..." "What?" "While you're a little drunk and very wet..." I didn't feel drunk any more, as though orgasms were the best hangover cure ever, but I could imagine what it was she was working towards and I didn't want her to have to grope for the words to ask the question that was making her hot behind me. It seemed so unlike her to be lost for words. "Where is it?" I asked, twisting in her arms so we were face to face, breast to breast. "Are you sure?" Her eyes were bright. "I hate to ask, it's probably awkward for you, but I'd like to know." She gave a little laugh. "Purely for science, you understand, so I can make an informed comparison." "Where is it?" "On the bedside table." I had to peel myself from her embrace, saw the ring glinting smugly where she'd placed it, ready for this moment. As ever it was warm to the touch, it would have been easy to wear it myself, to stop the fantasy that I was woman, but at that moment when I was still hot, when there was still liquid making me slick and ready for sex I was more than a little curious to find out how it would feel to be filled by more than fingers. "Sure?" she wondered as I lay beside her. I shushed with kisses, pulled her close until she kissed me back, until her arousal grew and her mouth became hungrier. As our tongues entwined I found her hand and ran the ring up one of her fingers. He grunted as the change took him. I felt the body in my arms swell, felt muscles form under my hands, shoulder broaden, his bum shrank and tightened, but of course the most fundamental thing I noticed was a small, limp thing that lay against the damp curls across my mound. It didn't stay small and soft for very long. With every one of his heartbeats it grew between us and while I wondered if I shouldn't feel some kind of male discomfort at having a guy in my arms, a guy I was kissing as passionately as when he had been a girl moments before, I had a long, thick erection pressing urgently against my belly. Perhaps something deep should have recoiled, pushed away and apologised to Jim, but I reached between us. My fingers found the hairy heavyness of his sack, the the thick, warm base of his new cock. I drew my fingertips along its length, to the curves at the point and amazed myself with how good it felt. And it wasn't like I'd never touched an erection before, was it? And Jim was a woman really, wasn't he? My fingers circled around his cock, like they knew what to do on their own - which in a way they did. After all, I'd made myself cum like that lots of times before, when I'd been male too. Jim moaned as my hand started moving up and down his shaft, I kissed him again and then, because my hand was a little trapped between us, I pushed him onto his back. "Are you ready?" he murmured. To answer I guided his hand between my legs, stroking his fingers along my slick folds. The longest one slipped inside and I gasped, the penetration was almost frictionless. For a few, long delightful moments we lay there together, looking into each other's eyes, smiling, and masturbating each other. But my fingers were measuring the size of his shaft as I wanked him, wondering if he could really fit in me and becoming more than curious to find out. "How do you want to do it?" he asked. There was a slick fluid seeping from his cock now, I could feel the urgency in the way his hips were moving. "Good question? What do you recommend?" Now that fluid was making my fingers wet, I was making my hand move up and down the full length of his cock and I still wasn't sure it could possibly fit. "Traditional or exotic?" he asked, though the last syllable was lost in a long moan as I started stroking pre cum around his tip. The answer came with a sudden splash of clarity, I was already swinging my leg over him, feeling his finger slip from inside me even as I let go of his cock. With my legs spread wide and my knees against his flanks I held my hot pussy just above his pulsing cock. Was I really about to do this? My brain must have been comprehensively rewired at the exact same moment my body turned female for as I looked down at his gorgeous erection I was certain that I was going to fuck him. I had never even had a single gay fantasy before the ring either. And if my brain had been rewired to be thinking about, no - needing a cock inside me, maybe when I turned back to Paul some of that wiring would be in place. Maybe I'd still like cock! Surely that wouldn't be a problem, I would have Jim's! I lifted it towards my pussy lips, brushed the gleaming purple tip along the line of my pouting lips until I found the sweet spot. No turning back now, Paula. We both sighed as I guided the tip inside. I felt it spread my lips and just kiss the entrance to my vagina. I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink as I lowered myself a little more and watched that tip slip inside me. The feeling was amazing! Jim was biting his lip, hands resting on my knees. My thighs started to complain of the strain I was putting them under in that position, but I wanted to hold there for a heartbeat longer, to savour my first penetration and imprint the feeling so I'd never forget. Then I gave way and let my weight sink down onto him watching his thick shaft disappear from view and feeling it spreading and filling me. When my lips were finally against the base of his cock I was surprised and very happy that I had taken all of him with barely a twinge. I felt happily stretched and full. The dreamy expression on his face suggested he was enjoying the sensation of his cock intimately gripped by my hot, wet body. "Okay?" I managed to ask, speaking was difficult. He nodded then made a long oooooh as I squeezed his cock with muscles inside me I'd never exercised before. I leant forward to kiss him, careful to keep his cock inside, wondering at how supple I was, loving every inch of him in me - where his cock belonged. Then I rode him - slowly at first, then faster and faster. He held my breasts, arched his back to drive himself deeper. I looked down on his face and body and I could tell when he was coming close by the frustration, the wonder and then the need to be as deep as possible. He released my boobs, grabbed my hips and pulled me down while he thrust so hard I thought he'd buck me off. As I felt the first hot, insistent pulse inside me and realised he was cumming my own orgasm burst through me and I screamed aloud with the sheer explosion of pleasure racing outwards from my pussy. It was some time before I felt able to speak. "Fuck!" I said, drawing the word out into a sigh as I fell forward against him. "I think we probably just did," he said contentedly. His arms encircled me and it wasn't long, about when his softened cock finally slipped from me, that he started snoring gently. It looked like I'd had all my sex for the night! I awoke in the fresh light of morning, we hadn't drawn the curtains, on my side, knees drawn up with Jim pressed close to my back. His arms were still around me, his right hand cupping and gently caressing my left breast, his left exploring my legs and hips. His very hard cock was laid perfectly along my bum's cleavage. A warm, dreamy tingle filled my body, most intense between my legs and filling my breasts. "Not even a "good morning," before you have your way with me then?" I murmured. "Draw your legs a little higher," he whispered and then kissed my ear. I had an idea what he was doing and complied. He wriggled a little, rearranged himself, and then with very little effort at all his wonderful cock slipped effortlessly inside again. Where I felt it belonged. I closed my eyes, rippled my pussy along him and we made love so slowly, so gently I felt I could lay there all morning, loving the sweet rhythm inside me. He teased my nipples, nibbled my shoulder, then took one of my hands and slid it between my legs so I could feel his slick shaft as it moved slowly in and out. He encouraged me to toy with my swollen clitoris until finally we orgasmed together again and I fell asleep with him still hard inside me. Not having any clothes, other than what I'd stumbled there in, I started off in one of Becky's night gowns, which felt like a whisper over my body when I put it on. It was a gorgeous, pale pink satin, almost calf length with a spilt up one side, and lace cups for my breasts. Even with my tangled hair and a heady scent of last night's sex about me I still felt very glamorous wearing it. Jim, in a less sensual and much heavier towelling dressing gown, could hardly keep his hands off me as we pottered about, tidying up and preparing breakfast. I quite enjoyed the feel of him caressing my bum through the satin nightie, or running his fingers along my arms, down my back of just stroking my hair. While we ate breakfast we played footsie under the table. with him sitting comfortably like a man with his legs parted I enjoyed running my toes up the inside of his thighs and properly distracted him from his toast by making him proud and erect with my dainty feet. "I suppose we ought to switch back at some point," I said after we'd showered and where I'd discovered the joy of having my legs wrapped around his waist as he energetically took all my weight while beautifully fucking me. By now I was in the dressing gown and he was drying my hair. "What's the rush?" he asked. "Don't tell me you don't like it." "Oh no! You've seen through me faking all those orgasms! Of course I like it, but we can't spend all day in here with the curtains closed bonking." "So ladylike! Anyway, why not?" "Do you really want to know?" "Absolutely." "You, my big boy of a girlfriend, have left my lady parts a little sore." The hair dryer went quiet. "Oh my god, Paula. I am so sorry." His face was so washed with concern I smiled and kissed him. "Don't be sorry, it was amazing. I just need a little rest. I fancy a walk along the beach again, but haven't really got anything to wear." "You can borrow some of my things," he suggested after another long kiss. "I reckon that, aside from boobs, you and me are about the same size, when I'm a girl at any rate. I'll dress you up." I pulled a face. "As long as I don't end up looking like a Disney princess! What are you going to wear?" He gave me a big grin and, without a word, gave me a demonstration of how the man who is really a woman uses a magic gender swapping ring to get himself jeans, top, jacket, pants, socks and boots from an apparently female outfit. I'm sure you can work it out yourselves. He finished with a theatrical, "ta dah!" and set to arranging my outfit. As I'd mentioned, my boobs were much bigger than Becky's, but I could wear the bra from last night. To go with it she lent me a pair of purple lace panties and then handed over some black fishnet tights which I looked at dubiously. "Really?" "You are going to look so cool," he assured me. "Fishnets are cool?" "Just put them on." He pointed to his crotch. "You have to do what I say..." "Because you have a cock?" I finished. "Exactly. You catch on quickly - for a girl!" "Knob!" "My point exactly," he finished, with a laugh. I eased on the fishnets, without tearing them, and wriggled my toes. They felt a lot different to the hosiery I'd tried so far, but they did look good on my legs, particularly when matched with a just-above-the-knee a- line skirt in black, with some red flowers embroidered at the front, a black long sleeved top and short denim jacket. When she passed me a pair of maroon Converse baseball boots I made some comment about dressing like a sixteen year old which he dismissed airily. The whole lot seemed to go together when I checked in the mirror. Proving that Jim still knew his way around long hair he brushed mine quickly into a pony tail and then wrapped it into a bun that felt curiously weighty and solid high on the back of my head. He deftly applied some wine red lipstick then black eye liner and mascara before pronouncing me fit to be seen. I got to borrow a handbag, before he threw open the door and offered me an arm like a gentleman ready to promenade his lady. Which in a way I suppose he was. After a lovely day, doing nothing in particular beyond enjoying each other's company, we ended up at my flat where I made dinner, poured beers and then settled in Jim's arms for a long warm, intimate kiss. "How are your lady parts," he asked softly when we were both a little warmer, a little breathless and he was clearly full grown inside his jeans. To be honest, though they were wet and tingling they were still feeling a little overused, but I had something else in mind anyway as I unzipped his flies and then eased his throbbing cock into the room's gentle light. I wrapped my fingers around it and watched them as they moved up and down his shaft and had one last check to make sure I was ready to do what I'd been thinking about all afternoon. "There's a significant gap in your male sexual experience so far," I said, without looking from his cock. "If I'm thinking of what you're thinking..." "What am I thinking?" I asked, with what I hoped was a mischievous smile. He lifted my face so our eyes met. His were warm with compassion, he leaned forward and kissed me. I didn't give him time to answer, or give myself any time to change my mind. I dipped my head, closed my eyes at the last minute and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock. "Paula," he said, after a suitably impressive gasp. "You don't have to if you don't want to." As nothing awful had happened to me, I kissed it warmly again. He smelt of man, but where I should have been repulsed I was only attracted. "If I had to I wouldn't," I said when I broke the kiss. Becoming more confident I licked around the tip, like it was an ice cream, while my hand still moved steadily up and down his shaft. The long blissful sigh he released was all the encouragement I needed. "Don't you want to know what a blow job feels like?" I murmured. "Very very much," he whispered and stroked my hair. Maybe to remind myself I was still a woman at the moment when I opened my mouth to feel, for the first time, how it felt to take an erection into it, I reached under my skirt, parted my legs, and started caressing my aching pussy through my tights and panties. I could feel the heat through them, feel how wet I'd become and then I concentrated on the main event. Summoning as much detail as I could remember of all the blow jobs I'd ever been gifted, I started working his cock with lips, tongue, teeth and fingers and forgot I'd ever been a man myself. As his breathing came faster and sharper, as his hips bucked ever so gently under me and his hands caressed my head and neck, as my mouth started to ache, I carried on working him, sucking, licking, teasing. I paused for a moment, just holding him close in my mouth and smiled to feel the hot pulse of the blood making it hard. A minute or so later he gave a heartfelt cry, pushed his cock towards me and a thick splash of salt cum pumped into my mouth. I almost recoiled, but recovered my composure and held him deep in my mouth as he pumped his cum across my tongue. Perhaps it was the most intimate thing I'd ever done for anybody, but I felt supremely content as I knelt there between his legs and let him cum into my mouth. When the muscular spurts were done, and my mouth was full of the thick liquid I swallowed and loved the feel of it down my throat. "That was amazing, thank you," he said when I finished cleaning him and looked up. "You're welcome." He shook his head in disbelief, "I never thought it could feel so intense." He pulled me off the floor and kissed me without reservation. Our tongues twisted together. "That was really your first time?" I felt strangely pleased with the remark. "I learnt vicariously," I said happily. Monday I was back with trousers and a cock going to work like I hadn't spent most of the weekend playing Paula with Jim. Becky, herself again, was back on duty so I probably wouldn't see her for a few days, and she'd let me keep the ring until we met up again. I felt as comfortable being Paul and fitting back into the bank's routine as I had been wearing a skirt and walking hand in hand with Jim, though I found myself sneaking quick glances at my phone and the photograph of me and Jim on the pier that first day, just to remind that it hadn't just been a dream. The ring was in my pocket too, as a constant, warm reminder of the incredible power it had and the luck I'd had in finding it that night - in the exact moment when Becky had been walking along on her patrol. Even after the short time I'd known her I was sure I'd fallen in love and couldn't wait to see her again. As much as I was comfortable with my male body, I did find myself looking at some of my female colleagues, and the customers who came in and smiling to myself at the slight feeling of sisterhood I felt with them. I'd only been a part time woman for a few days, but I knew what it felt like to wear heels, how breasts felt, pushing hair behind my ears and sitting down to pee. I'd felt my body screaming with pleasure as a beautiful cock filled my pussy and I'd felt the man I loved orgasm into my mouth. The recollection didn't repulse me the way I'd thought it might, looking back on that exquisitely feminine moment from a man shape. A couple of times I felt myself looking at the more well proportioned, well turned out men who found themselves in the bank and wondering what their cocks might taste like, how they would feel inside my pussy. Even that idle fantasising felt natural and I realised that might be some more fundamental, incremental change occurring in me. Should I have been bothered? Maybe, but I wasn't. It was going to make me a better man, I was content with that. At my appointed lunch break I found myself alone in the small canteen the bank provided and the magazine I'd brought along wasn't holding my attention at all. I was thinking of the ring, I was imagining being a woman again. Looking at it in the palm of my hand I wondered what would happen if I put it on, here and now in the bank. What harm could it do? In an instant I'd changed sex again and as usual my clothes changed with me. I was delighted to see I was now wearing the uniform provided for female staff - a knee length navy blue straight skirt, a pale blue blouse and a neckscarf patterned with sea-greens and blues. My legs were sheer and dark in nearly black nylon and my feet looked feminine in almond toed black leather court shoes with a practical two or three inch heel. Even as I marvelled at the complete change in me, I noticed the ID lanyard around my neck and dangling over my breasts and realised that the ring had gone a little further this time. Beside a picture of a pretty brunette with her hair down aro