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Summer Rental I awakened to the panicked feeling that I was suffocating. I couldn't breathe! And heavy weight pressed on my body! Quickly, though, panic turned to pleasure. I couldn't breathe because I was kissing someone. Or, more accurately, someone was kissing me, deeply and passionately, with lots of tongue. It felt good too. And the weight was a body atop me. Its warmth was both comforting and pleasurable. Cathy! Somehow, she had managed to get away from her job a few days early, crawled into bed with me at the beach house that I rented, and was delivering that great news to me in the best way possible. Only... something didn't feel right. Had Cathy gone on an ice cream binge and packed on at least 50 pounds during few days that we'd been apart? It certainly felt that way. Only... that wasn't soft weight pressing on me. It was hard weight. Muscular weight. And since when did my nipples seem the size of pencil erasers as she massaged my chest? Only... my nipples never had felt that large when she played with them. Nor had my chest ever felt so soft or her hands so big! And in addition to packing on the weight, Cathy must have stopped shaving her legs. I felt their hair rubbing up and down my own legs. Only... she never had stopped shaving her legs during the five years that I had known her. And her legs weren't longer and larger than mine either. Only... now they were. Panic returned as I came fully awake, assaulted by what seemed like a million alien sensations. Some, just seemed wrong, such as why I was looking up at a sky full of stars, instead of a darkened bedroom ceiling. And why I --- or rather, we--- were lying in sand instead of my bed. I knew that because my back was bare against the grit. Yet I always slept in a tee shirt. Other sensations were light years beyond wrong. My butt wasn't only bare; it was big! Also, I kept my hair short. But now it was everywhere, in my face, over my ears, on my shoulders. Worst of all, my hands were on another butt, a hard, hairy butt. No, that wasn't the worst. The worst was that Cathy had a penis. It was large and hard and pressing urgently up against my bare belly. Only... Cathy didn't have a penis. Cathy was a woman. And whoever was on top of me definitely wasn't a woman! That was confirmed as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw the masculine silhouette of the body on top of me. "Oh, babe, I'm so ready," he said in a deep, breathy voice that reflected his eagerness. "Are you?" He gave my chest a squeeze with both hands and then lifted them away. Only... it wasn't my chest, I fearfully realized. It was my breasts. I had breasts with engorged nipples and they swayed and bounced as he set them free! He had released my breasts so that he could reposition himself to... "No!" I screamed. "No! Get off me!" I pushed against his chest with both hands, hands that seemed pathetically small and weak. "Get off me!" I yelled again. "Get off me, now!" He got the message. Pushing himself up, he backed away and towered over me in the near darkness, hands on hips and sizable manhood hanging between his legs. "Hey!" he shouted. "What's with you? You said that you wanted to do this. You get me all hot and hard. And now this? "I ought to screw you anyway, you bitch!" And he could have. But he didn't, thank goodness. He let me lie there in the sand for what seemed like forever, but probably was only a few seconds. It was like the moment just before you're in a car accident and then everything seems to unfold in slow motion. Gradually, my heart rate slowed and I regained my breath. I could hear the surf just a few feet away. I raised up on my elbows to get my bearings--- and once more the alien weight on my chest swung to and fro. I pushed long hair out of my eyes. I looked down the beach and saw my house. Or what I thought was my house anyway. That's where I thought I was with Cathy. That's where I was the man and she was the woman. Right now, though, I didn't know what was going on, who I was, or where I lived. But recognition of the house in this reality that seemed so foreign to me was at least a little helpful. Maybe Cathy was real too. Maybe she was at the house. I looked down to see those alien breasts and the rest of a naked female body. I sat up and held my hands in front of me, gazing in disbelief at the bracelets on both wrists. Along with the house, they seemed familiar, but I didn't know why. I ran my hands over my breasts, down my stomach and touched --- a belly ring! I had just seen a belly ring on someone. Could it have been Cathy? I didn't think so. Could it have been me, looking in a mirror? I didn't remember getting one. Of course, I didn't remember having smooth legs either. But there they were. Nor did I recall having pierced ears. But stud earrings said otherwise. I couldn't remember the last time I cried either. But now I was. The stranger squatted down beside me. "Oh, babe, I'm sorry. What's going on? Are you okay?" I didn't know what to say. I sniffled and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know anything." I started to add that I didn't know who I was and I sure as hell didn't know who he was or why I was naked on the beach with him. But I didn't. And while this dude was not in my memory, the house down the beach was, along with Cathy, whoever she was. That's where I needed to go to try to find out what was going on. "I'm really sorry about this," I said, suddenly realizing how high and girlish my voice sounded and recognizing that it seemed so wrong coming out of my mouth. But I had heard it before. Somehow, it was familiar too. "I should go home now. I'm not feeling well." As I scrambled to get up, my sense of self once again shocked by how alien my body felt, the stranger grabbed one of my small hands and pulled me to my feet. My breasts bounced as I staggered. He grabbed my shoulders to steady me. "You don't look so good," he said. "I'll walk you home." I shook my head and felt hair sway against my bare shoulders. "No, that's okay," I said. "Just my time of month, you know? I'll be okay. I'll see you around. Okay?" My time of month! I thought, as I fought the impulse to brush the sand off my body, my naked, female body. I can't believe I said that. I started slowly down the beach, each step a shock because of the bounce and sway that seemed so unnatural. "Hey, babe! Wait up! You don't want to go home without this," the stranger said, as he ran up and handed me something. "Your bikini. You might want to put it on before you go in the house, you know?" My bikini? "Uh, yeah, you're right," I said. "I don't know where my head is. I'm suddenly just not feeling like myself tonight, you know?" The stranger chuckled and said, "You can say that again." But he didn't leave. He stayed and watched as I pulled a small piece of cloth up my smooth legs and covered up a too small part of my plump bottom. Then I held the other piece out in front of me, bewildered by all the strings hanging from it and unsure how I was going to secure it to my body. "You really are out of it," he said. "Here, I'll help you with that." While I held the skimpy top against my breasts, he tied bows on my neck and back. "There you go," he said. "See you later." And as he turned and jogged the other way, I heard him mumble, "Crazy, psycho bitch." Can't argue with that, I thought. As I walked toward the house, I realized that the top, tiny though it was, at least lessened the bouncing of my breasts. It helped even more after I adjusted them, but freaked me out that I had done it. Or, more accurately, that I felt the need to do it. * * * * * I climbed onto the deck and approached the sliding glass doors. There wasn't much light, but there was enough to see a vague reflection. In another second or two, I would be able to see what I looked like, maybe even recognize who I was. But I didn't get the chance. Suddenly the doors were pulled open from the inside and bright light temporarily blinded me. "Dammit, Becky where have you been? Can't you ever give me a minute's peace? I couldn't believe it when I looked in your room a few minutes ago and saw that you were gone. I was just about to wake Blake and come looking for you." An angry woman a little taller than I confronted me face to face. Grabbing a shoulder with one hand, she pulled me into the room. And as my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that the room looked familiar. Thank goodness. At the same time, realization struck. The angry woman had called me "Becky." That was my 16-year-old niece's name. She had just arrived that afternoon, along with her friend Sloane and my younger sister, Sarah. The bracelets that looked familiar were Becky's, as was the belly ring and the voice. And the angry woman was Sarah. Only now, for a reason that I couldn't begin to comprehend, she wasn't my sister. I wasn't her brother. I was her daughter, the daughter who, without warning, somehow had become the child from hell shortly after Sarah and her husband divorced about six months ago. I fully could understand her yelling at Becky. They had been quarreling from almost the minute they arrived, about one thing or another, including Becky's clothes and her attitude. But I couldn't understand Sarah yelling at me. Only... I could understand. I was now her rebellious, and, it seemed, slutty teenage daughter who almost had sex on the beach. Did this mean that Becky was now in my body? Was she now me, Sarah's older brother, a 40-year-old teacher and freelance photographer, and her own uncle? That's the only thing that made sense. Only... It didn't. Body swapping like that wasn't possible. It happened only in movies like Freaky Friday. Only... it had. Hands on her hips, Sarah boiled with anger. I couldn't possibly tell her that I really wasn't her daughter, that somehow we had switched bodies. Nor could I even begin to explain to her how it happened--- if she even gave me the chance. I needed time to think about this. "Well, young lady, what do you have to say for yourself?" she fumed. "Where were you at this hour. And what were you doing?" I looked down at my tiny, bare feet with pink toenails. "I'm sorry, Sarah," I said meekly. "I was just walking on the beach. It's so nice out there. But I should have told you. It won't happen again." My apology helped some. At least her face wasn't as flushed and red anymore. But it didn't help nearly enough. "You're so right it won't happen anymore," she said. "And..." The woman formerly my sister paused and cocked her head. "What did you just call me, Rebecca Lynn?" I swallowed hard and thought fast. What did Becky, the real Becky, call her? "I'm sorry, Mommy," I said. "I'm just really tired, you know? I didn't mean to call you by your first name. It won't happen again. Can I go to bed now... Mommy?" Sarah nodded her head. "Yes, go. I'm tired too. Tired of fighting with you all of the time and tired of you blaming me for the divorce. Go to bed." * * * * Upstairs in the room that Becky shared with Sloane, another light came on as I opened the door. Sloane stared up at me wide-eyed. "Becky, don't tell me you sneaked out to meet that guy on the beach! You didn't did you? You didn't have sex, did you? "Did you? What was it like? Was it as good as you thought it would be?" For a long moment, I was speechless, not only because of what Sloane said, but because I saw my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet door. I touched my face. Becky did the same in the mirror. I walked up to the closet and stared eye-to-eye with the curvy blonde with blue eyes. Becky stared back. Unable to resist temptation, I squeezed what were now my breasts. Becky did that as well. Until now, I might have been able to pass all of this off as a particularly vivid nightmare. But no more. I was the 5-6 teenage girl in the mirror. I was Becky, my own niece and my sister's daughter. "Becky?" Sloane said, as she came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. "Becky? Are you all right?" Sloane was about two inches taller, with shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes. She wore a baggy black shirt with "girl power" in glittery silver across the front. She stroked my blonde hair and then gently guided me to the bed, pushed me onto it, and sat down beside me. "Oh, no, don't tell me it was bad," she said. "He didn't hurt you did he? Come on, Becky, talk to me." I looked up into her eyes. "I'm not Becky," I said. "I'm Blake. Somehow, Becky did this to me." I have no idea why I decided that Sloane would be the first one I told about this insane situation. In fact, I didn't even know that I was going to do it until I had. But I do know that I didn't feel threatened for the first time since I woke up on the beach. Sloane was Becky's friend and now my friend. "Oh, Becky, no," she said. "That's not true." We sat quietly on the bed for a moment, holding hands, our bare legs touching. "Okay," she finally said. "I'm going to ask you something. What's the code word?" I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about," I replied. "In fact, I don't know anything. I don't know why I told you that I'm Blake, and I'm not even sure that I am anymore." Sloane shook my shoulders. "Becky, don't play games with me. What's the code word?" I pushed her away. "I don't know any damn code word," I hissed. "I'm sick of all this. Just leave me alone, will you?" I fell down onto the bed and buried my face in the pillow. Even as I started sobbing I couldn't ignore the foreign feeling of my breasts pushing against the mattress and that made me cry even harder." "Oh, no!" Sloane said. "Mr. Carter, it is you!" I raised up onto one elbow, grabbed Sloane and hugged her. "Oh, Sloane," I said. "You believe me? You really believe me?" She nodded her head. "You didn't know the code," she explained. "You didn't know the code word that Becky, the real Becky, gave me. She said that's how I would be able to tell if the magic spell worked. She would know it, and you wouldn't." I released Sloane and looked her in the eyes. "Just what the hell is going on here? How did I get in Becky's body?" Sloane shook her head. "I still don't believe it," she said. "Becky didn't think it would work. I didn't think it would work. But it did." After the divorce, it seems, Becky not only became rebellious, but she made some new friends, notably a couple of Goth girls who claimed to have magical powers. Becky told them that she needed a break from her mother before they killed one another. "They told her that they knew a body swap spell," Sloane said. "They asked her if she wanted to be someone else for awhile, to get away from her mother. But that someone else would have to be her too." I was the perfect candidate, it seemed. The spell worked only on a blood relative, and, as her uncle, I was her only option. She had no cousins, no brothers or sisters or aunts. Also Becky knew that she was coming to my beach house rental. "If the body swapped worked while we were here for the weekend, Becky said that she could stay here as you, while you went back home as her with her mother," Sloane continued. I put my hand on hers. "But you're not just staying for the weekend. You're staying for a week," I said. "Becky didn't tell you that?" Sloane gasped. "She didn't know, I'm sure of it. Becky and her mom haven't been on very good terms for awhile now. If her mom did tell her, I don't think she heard it. "And Becky went to meet that boy on the beach tonight because she thought that the spell hadn't worked and so she wanted to do something else that would piss off her mother. She told me that she had brought some condoms with her. The spell must have kicked in while she was with the boy and you were in bed." I nodded my head. "Well... it worked," I said. "The pissing off, that is." Suddenly Sloane realized the implications of when the switch occurred. "Oh, no!" she gasped. "She didn't... You... weren't." I put my hand on her forearm. "I almost was," I said. "That guy on the beach was just seconds away from sticking his... his thing... into Becky... into me. And he wasn't wearing a condom either." Sloane gasped a second time. "Oh, Mr. Carter, I'm so sorry," she said. Once more we sat side by side in silence for a long moment. "How long is the spell supposed to last?" I asked quietly. Sloane shook her head. "I don't know. Becky didn't tell me. I don't think that she thought the spell would work. I know I didn't." I said, "But she gave you a code just in case." She nodded. Then we looked at each other and, God help me, I giggled. "I wouldn't have believed it either," I said. "But it did work." Sloane smiled. "Yes, it did. I'm really sorry about this, Mr. Carter." She got up and moved across to her bed. "It's not your fault, Sloane," I said. "You need sleep and I need some thinking time. And I guess that you'd better call me Becky instead of Mr. Carter. He's my uncle." I reached across to turn off the lamp on the night stand between our beds. Making the room dark wouldn't do anything to lessen the disturbing but sensual feelings of long hair brushing my shoulders and tight Spandex squeezing my new breasts and private parts. But at least I could no longer see the bulges above my hot pink bikini top, the belly ring sparkling in the lamp light, and the camel toe between my legs. "Mr. Carter, I mean Becky," Sloane said in the darkness. "Aren't you going to take a shower?" For the second time, I giggled, and it was just as disturbing as the first. "Ah, I don't think so, Sloane. I've had enough for one night." I heard Sloane roll over in her bed. "Oh, okay... Becky. And thanks for inviting us to stay a week. Night!" I lay on my back in the bed, staring up in the ceiling. I knew that I wouldn't sleep much, but I would try. I certainly needed the rest to be prepared for tomorrow, my first full day as a teenage girl. Then I remembered that Cathy, my girl friend, was coming in tomorrow to join us at the beach house. Only she wasn't my girl friend anymore. She was Blake's girl friend. And I was Becky. For the last time that night, I giggled. Tomorrow certainly was going to be interesting, I suspected. * * * * * Sloane said that she would pick out clothes for me as I showered. I really didn't want to be naked in this body for a second time. But I had to. I had sand in my hair, on my legs, and in places that it definitely shouldn't be. I tried not to look, but I still got weak in the knees as I lathered my body with a shower pouf, exploring all of the curves, bulges, and indentations that I never had experienced before from this perspective. I always had loved bathing with a woman. Showering as a woman was almost as pleasurable, I suddenly realized and felt my face flush with embarrassment. "Wrap your hair in a towel when you finish!" Sloane yelled, thankfully bringing me back to stark reality. Back in the bedroom, I didn't want to drop the towel that I had wrapped around my breasts. "I've seen Becky naked dozens of times," an exasperated Sloane said. "And she's seen me naked dozens of times. It's no big deal." I shook my turbaned head. "It is to me," I said. "I'm not used to this." Sloane put up her hands and backed away. "I understand," she said. "I'll turn around and you put on the panties and shorts. Then you turn around and I'll snap your bra in back. You're gonna need help with that." With our hair in ponytails and dressed in similar teen girl attire--- shorts, tank tops, and sandals--- we skipped down the stairs to breakfast. "Good morning, Mommy and Uncle Blake," I said brightly. During the night I had realized that I was in a situation beyond my control and it was best just go with the flow until the spell wore off - -- if it wore off, and I didn't even want to contemplate the implications if it didn't. Meanwhile, maybe I could improve Becky's relationship with her mother and Becky could relax and enjoy life as an adult instead of a dependent child. Mommy seemed shocked but happy and smiled at us. Uncle Blake choked on his corn flakes. "And thanks for inviting us to stay for a whole week!" I gushed. Uncle Blake choked some more. I stepped behind his chair and patted his back. "You okay, Uncle Blake?" I asked. He nodded. "Uh, yes, I am, Becky. Thanks." I gave him a hug from behind and then sat down next to Sloane for cereal and orange juice. "How would you girls like to go shopping today?" Mommy asked. "That would be great, Mrs. Johnson," Sloane said, and I nodded in agreement. Mommy got up from the table. "Okay," she said. "Let's go before it gets too hot. I'm going upstairs to get ready. We'll go in a half hour. Is that all right with you girls." "Sure," we said, as we both crunched flakes. "We'll be ready." When Mommy had gone, I looked at Sloane. "I'd like to be alone with my favorite uncle for a few minutes, please." Sloane nodded and went up to our bedroom. As soon as we were alone, Uncle Blake started sobbing. "Oh, I'm so sorry about this. I never thought the spell would work. I really didn't. Uncle Blake, you have to believe me." I handed him a tissue to wipe his eyes. "I'm not Uncle Blake anymore," I said. "You are. I'm Becky. And that's what we will have to call each other until... How long is this spell supposed to last anyway? He dried his eyes. "About a week," he said. "And I understand. I'll pretend to be you and you will pretend to be me. I stood up, leaned across the table, and pushed out my breasts as far as they would go. I wanted them to get his attention. They did. "About a week?" I said. "You don't know for sure? You don't know how long I'm going to have these?" For a moment his eyes remained locked on my cleavage and then he looked up obviously embarrassed. "No, no, Isabella and Sabrina didn't know for sure either," he said. "They told me that they never had tried the spell before." I put my hands on my hips. "Oh, that's just great," I said. "Apprentice witches trying a new spell. What if it never ends?" Uncle Blake put his head in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry," he said. I backed off a bit. That wasn't a man in a man's body. It was a girl. "Okay, I believe you," I said in a softer tone. "We'll just have to hope that it's about a week and not about a month, or about a year or about forever." But he had put us both into this awkward situation. I was still going to have a little fun with him. "You do know that Mommy, Sloane, and I are going to be here for a week," I said. "That was true. Uncle Blake invited us for a week, back when I was Uncle Blake. You're not going to have the house to yourself after tomorrow as you had hoped." Embarrassed, he lowered his head and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "How do you live with this thing between your legs?" he said. "It's so uncomfortable." Stunned by the unexpectedness of the comment, I laughed, a high girlish laugh. "It's not between my legs anymore," I said. "It's between yours. And I have these." I pushed up my breasts with both hands. Then we both laughed. "And these clothes!" he exclaimed, pulling on the plain blue tee shirt that he was wearing. "They're so boring!" I twirled. "Yours aren't. See?" Then I turned serious again and gave him an intentionally devilish little grin. "Yes, your guy clothes might be boring, but starting later today, you're life isn't going to be. Your girlfriend Cathy is coming. We're all going to be here together for the rest of the week." All the color drained from his face. "My what? Coming here? Today?" After I had lifted my breasts to show them off, they had settled back awkwardly in my bra. I nestled them properly and then leaned on the table, one hand on my prominent hip in tiny, tight denim shorts. "Your girl friend," I said. "And she loves hot, sweaty sex. We were planning on humping like bunnies while she was here. But now that's going to be Cathy and you, instead of me." His face paled even more and I feared he would pass out. I took my hand off my hip and patted his hand. "Don't worry," I said. "I know that you didn't think this could really happen. Who would? I'm not going to make it worse for you than it already is. We have to help each other, right?" He nodded and smiled weakly. "Thanks," he said. "Maybe some time as me will help you loosen up and relax," I added. "And maybe, as you, I can help mend your relationship with your mother. The divorce wasn't all her fault, you know." He took his hand back and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I know," he said. "I just hate it so much that we're not a family anymore. "And I hate this hair on my face!" We both laughed. Then I told him how to be Blake for "about a week." "You'll be fine with Cathy," I began. "First, just remember to treat her how you liked to be treated when you were Becky. And that's not just in bed either. I'm talking during the day too. Be kind and considerate." Once again, I feared he would pass out. "You mean you weren't kidding? I really do have to... in bed... you know... do it with her." I giggled. "Yes, you do," I said. "And the second thing is, don't worry about that thing you now have hanging between your legs. It has a mind of its own. When the time comes, it will be ready." * * * * In the days that followed, I accustomed myself to doing girly things with Sloane and sometimes Mommy and Cathy, going shopping, getting mani- pedis, sun bathing, and watching the occasional chick flick, while Uncle Blake pretended to attend to photography business for awhile each day in his office. It was ultra-strange being Becky instead of Blake around Cathy. Most surprisingly, I quickly became comfortable in my new female form. My breasts continued to bounce, I'm sure, but I didn't notice them. They were just a part of the new me. The long hair didn't bother me so much anymore either. Nor did the feminine way I walked and talked and used my hands. What remained foreign, though, was the clothing. It was tight and soft and skimpy and a constant reminder that I was a fraud, someone pretending to be someone of the opposite sex. So were the heels and the purses and the jewelry, especially the earrings. I must admit, though, that I did develop a fondness for sundresses. They were cool and airy and their hems whispering against my bare legs made me feel naughty, sexy, and innocent, all at the same time. Also, wearing them really showed off my long, shapely legs and my nice, firm boobies. That's right. I referred to my breasts as "boobs" and "boobies" now, and sometimes even "the girls." I heard Sloane use the words and they just seemed natural, you know? Same with "tummy" for stomach. And I also had started saying words I didn't even know existed when I was Blake. Stuff like "awks" and "Gucci" and "dope." I wondered if I would still talk like that when I became a man again. More importantly, I worried that I would have a fetish for wearing women's clothing when I became Blake again--- if I became Blake again. Meanwhile, Uncle Blake seem to be getting along well with his girl friend. They smiled at each other often and held hands when they walked on the beach. Once when we all were in the living room watching TV, Cathy suddenly plopped down on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. "You two, get a room!" Mommy said with a laugh. "We will," Cathy said, as she led Uncle Blake into their bedroom. Watching them show affection for each other made me feel funny in the tummy. A good kind of funny, though. And I noticed it more and more when we were at the beach and good-looking guys walked by, including Brad, the one whose kisses I had awakened to that first night. One afternoon, Sloane and I were soaking up rays on a blanket in the late afternoon, when some boys starting playing football at the water's edge, just below us. I propped up on my elbows, put my sunglasses on my head, and watched them. Sweat from my neck and shoulders trickled down my front and into the valley between the girls. At first it was awks, but then it was dope, as it seeped past the top of my yellow, floral- pattern bikini, flowed down my smooth, flat belly and into... well, you know where. Actually, it wasn't my bikini. It was Sloane's. She said that it was from Aeropostale and that both of us have lots of cute stuff from there- -- tops, shorts, rompers, and sundresses. Even though she's two inches taller, we're the same size up front. Well... almost. I'd never tell her this but I think that my boobies are a little bigger and her bikini top squeezed them up just the right amount. Sloane stirred beside me. She was on her elbows now, glasses on her head and sweat running down her front. Funny, but feeling sweat run down my own body was more of a turn-on that watching it run down between the boobies of a cute, teenage girl. Make that another cute, teenage girl. "They're showing off for us," she said. "I know," I smiled. "You're okay with that?" she asked, looking over at me with concern. "It doesn't make you feel funny? You were a guy just a few days ago." I giggled and lowered my glasses. "Yes, I was. But now I'm Becky and her body seems to be in charge more than my memories of who I was a few days ago. I like looking at cute guys now, especially the ones with tight butts." Sloane shook her head. "Weirdorama," she said as she lay back down. "Tots," I agreed. Alone in bed, meanwhile, I started... touching myself. I didn't mean to do it. It just happened. Maybe I was thinking about those tight butts. Or maybe I was thinking about Brad and those kisses. Having been a guy, I naturally started with my boobs. Rubbing and squeezing them did feel pleasant, too, especially rolling and tweaking my nipples. But it was nothing like the arousal I had felt when I was Blake and massaging Cathy's breasts. Pressing my fingers into the wetness between my legs, however, made my eyes roll, my toes curl, and... "Becky, be quiet! You're moaning again. Someone will hear you," Sloane hissed at me several times that week. Always after, she giggled and added, "Tight butts!" After her comments one night, I whispered, "Sloane, what about you? Don't you ever... You know." She laughed quietly. "Of course, I do," she whispered back. "But I've been a girl for 16 years. I've learned to exercise a little more self control." After a moment's pause, I asked, "What about with a boy?" Sloane said, "Good night, Becky." But I wouldn't let it go. "What about Becky?" I asked. "The real Becky." Following a long silence, she finally replied. "Yes," she said. "Yes, she has. Since you're her now, it's only fair that you should know." "Good night, Sloane," I said. * * * * * As the week neared an end, Mommy seem happy and relaxed. I had done my best to make that happen too. I was cheerful and respectful and did everything she asked me to do, without hesitation. I gave her hugs and told her that I loved her. It was honest affection too. She had been my younger sister before I became her daughter. At first, she seemed reluctant to believe what she was seeing and hearing. But by the third day, she had bought into it and reciprocated. Mother and daughter had a loving relationship once again. In addition, Uncle Blake and Cathy seemed to have grown even closer and more affectionate with each other. He was a contented man, instead of an angry teenager. One night, I stepped out on the deck as he was barbequing. "How's it going, Uncle Blake?" I asked. He grinned. "You know how it's going, and I have you to thank," he said. "I can't remember when I've felt more relaxed. Happy even. "In fact, I might not even want to change back," he added with a straight face, as he gave me a hug and kissed my forehead. The unexpected words sent a chill down my spine. He had said what I felt but was afraid to voice. My time as Becky had been good too. Except for one thing, which had become more and more demanding with each day and each night alone in bed. I wanted to relieve the itch, especially since I had learned that the real Becky had done the dirty deed with a boy before we switched bodies. I wanted to know what it felt like for a girl. No, not just for a girl. For me, for Becky, a 16-year- old girl with raging hormones and a fixation on a tall hunk named Brad. Also, I saw how happy, how satisfied Cathy seemed around Uncle Blake and I wanted some of that too. And as luck would have it, who should I see walking down on the beach at that very moment? "See you later, Uncle Blake," I said as I ran down to talk to him. Brad was hesitant at first, and I couldn't blame him. From his perspective, I suddenly had gone bat-shit crazy that first night and left him terribly frustrated. And from my own years as a teenage boy, I knew first-hand what that was like. Or at least I thought that I did. Suddenly I wasn't so sure anymore. What I was certain of, however, is how I felt in the here and now, when I was a horny girl in the presence of an attractive teenage guy. I stepped up on tiptoes to kiss him and, as I did so, I gently squeezed the bulge between his legs. I knew what that did to a guy too and he responded as I knew he would, with an instant erection. "Please," I whispered. "Please meet me tonight. We're leaving soon and I want to make it up to you. "I want to make it up to you sooooo bad." He agreed to meet me, of course. How could he not? Girls like me could wrap guys like him around our fingers. And sometime after midnight, I put on the hot pink bikini, grabbed some condoms from my purse and crept down the stairs, out the sliding glass doors and down to the beach. Brad was waiting. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, for meeting me," I gushed. "I shouldn't have run away that first night." I jumped into his arms, pressed my lips against his, and pushed my tongue into his mouth. In seconds, we were rolling around in the sand, gasping and groping each other. "Oh, baby," Brad whispered, as he pulled off his trunks. "You make me so hot." Looking between his legs, I had no doubt of that. As we kissed some more, he reached behind my back and untied my bikini top. Then he peeled off the bottom as I giggled and wiggled on the sand. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" he asked as he crouched over me? "I couldn't handle another case of blue balls." I reached around his neck and pulled him onto me, his hairy chest pressing against my breasts and his manhood pushing urgently against my flat tummy. "Oh, yes, yes, I am sure," I squealed, as I locked my legs around his back. Suddenly I released his neck and unclasped my legs. "Oh, no!" he moaned. "Not again!" I laughed and stroked his cheek. "Oh, no, it's not that," I said. "I want you to wear a condom. I brought some." Searching around in the sand, I finally found where I had dropped them. With trembling hands, I unwrapped one. "Here," I said. "I'll put it on you." But as I started to, he grabbed my hands. "Uh, no," he said, his words coming in tortured breaths. "I don't think that's a good idea. You'd better let me." I giggled and handed him the condom. "I understand," I said. And I did. Premature ejaculation was a horny teenage girl's worst enemy. And I was one very horny teenage girl. As he slipped it on, I massaged the wetness between my legs. Condom in place, I once more pulled him onto my eager flesh and wrapped my smooth legs around his hairy back. We kissed. I nibbled on his ear and bit his shoulder. He massaged my breasts and sucked on my nipples. And then I felt his condom-clad manhood seeking entrance. He was but seconds away from giving me the fulfillment that I wanted, that I needed, that I had to have. "Oh, yes! Yes!" I moaned. "I want you inside me. Now!" Brad removed one hand from my breasts. He was going to use it to guide the missile. Now he had it in his hand, now he was pushing it past the lips that I had shaved around earlier than night in preparation for this moment. Now, hard and rigid, his penis was entering me, filling me up. Now I started to quiver and quake. Only... what happened? Where the hell was I? What happened to the sand? What happened to my breasts and rigid nipples? What happened to Brad and his guided missile and the explosive orgasm that I so wanted? Suddenly, I knew what had happened and where I was. I was in my bedroom again. The swap had ended as abruptly as it had begun. "Oh, Christ!" I gasped. "I can't believe this!" To my left, I felt weight shift on the bed. "Blake, honey, are you all right?" It was Cathy. I was no longer a horny teenage girl on the beach. I was Blake in bed with his girl friend. And Becky, the real Becky, was having hot, sweaty sex with Brad as I lay there drained, frustrated, and unfulfilled. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said in breathy gasps. "I just had a really vivid dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare, I'm not sure." Cathy pressed her body against mine. "Want to tell me about it?" she asked. "Or maybe do something else, since we're both awake?" "Maybe I'll tell you about it someday," I said as I kissed her on the nose. "Right now, let's do that something else. What did you have in mind?" I put my hand on one of her breasts and gently squeezed. Yes, I thought, I much preferred caressing them when they belonged to someone else. But I also realized that it had felt pretty damn good when I had boobies a few moments ago and someone else was playing with them. I just hoped that I didn't still have a thing for wearing sundresses.