How Spencer Found Her Kink, Parts 1 And 2 free porn video

The main character's taste in music, predominantly string music covers of pop songs, will be showcased throughout, with every section given it's own song. You can find all of these songs on the US version of Spotify if you would like to listen along while reading the ridiculous sex story. It is annotated like so: [Title of Song by Group Performing Song (Original Artist)] How Spencer Found Her Kink, Parts 1 and 2 by Rohmer Fan ~ Part One: Los Angeles, California ~ [Cry Me A River by Eklipse (Justin Timberlake)] "...and remember: be honest about your kink, own your kink, but also, think about your kink. This is Spencer Moore, The Bearded Hubby, signing off. Don't forget to subsc-" After the final quality check, I finished editing my new upload for my YouTube channel and took a sip of green tea. This one was just a single shot video of me talking about the importance of consent and non-toxic intentions when it came to your sexual needs titled, "Think About Your Kink." I threw in a few mentions of some of my other popular videos, like the Pornmind series I was so proud of, and made sure there was enough spice in the content to generate a strong response. Sitting down at the small desk I'd occupied for the last three months at Walker Talent, I took notice of all the busy people making much, much more money than me. Walker Talent was a talent agency in LA I'd recently been lucky enough to land an interning spot for after I finished a Bachelor's in Communications. I was responsible for the company's social media presence, which mostly amounted to monitoring their talent's social media instead of actually posting things. It was easy and I could get some of my own uploading done for my YouTube channel while at work. I crossed the 1,000 subs mark this past weekend. My phone vibrated from my wife Sam sending a text, "Heyyo I'm at the grocery store, do we need anything?" I responded with a copy-and-paste of a list I already had ready. She sent a thumbs up. It was my responsibility to make sure I knew what things around the house we needed, that utilities got paid, and weekly chores were done. Sam and I had included in our vows to always be completely egalitarian when it comes to chores, knowing how sexist most households were when it came to them. We also kept our last names and agreed to both be vegan, but we ended the veganism a month ago. I also vowed to never bring up kids. We were worried because in a patriarchal society the male partner could put undue stress on the female to breed. I'd made a number of videos going over these vows and more. It was what made my "Bearded Hubby" YouTube channel so popular, honestly. Vice even did an article on me titled, "The Bearded Feminist Hero We Didn't Know We Needed." It was only mildly sarcastic I think, which was great. Suddenly, a crisply tanned older man leaned over my small desk intoning, "Mr. Moore. Spencer. Can you send me a memo about Levi Gardner's social media activity and um, you know, how many likes and pokes he's getting or whatever it's called." It was my boss's boss's boss, Kurt Walker, a public relations guru and agent who'd started this company a couple of decades ago. "Sure. I'd be glad to Mr. Walker." This was the first time Kurt Walker had spoken to me since I started interning here, but I'd seen him around. He had a lot of friends with tattoos and knew a ton of celebrities. "Call me Kurt. How old are you, blondy?" He smirked. "Twenty-one." I already disliked this man. "That is one respectable beard for a twenty-one year old. You got a girlfriend? She like your beard?" He folded his arms and smiled. "I'm married actually." "No shit. High school sweetheart? Meet in college?" "High school, yeah. We uhh, yeah." I smiled weakly. The idea of a 'high school sweetheart' seemed vaguely dismissive and possibly sexist. "How's that working out for you? I've been married three times myself." He was a supremely confident man and gave no indication he was embarrassed of his many failed marriages. "It's great. We just, everything is great. We share all the chores and-" "Fantastic, well great to hear about you and your gal. Let me see those baby pictures when you two become parents and thanks for that memo in advance. Later, Moore." And before I could interrupt he was gone. ~ [Sweet Dreams by Eklipse (Eurythmics)] "And then he was like 'tell me about your gal.' Hah, yikes." After doing my deep-voiced impression of Walker, I closed the dishwasher. Sam cracked up over my story. "Oh god, he sounds like every other middle- aged guy that comes into the gym lately. Usually they make some tomboy joke about me or crack on me for not wearing makeup. The microaggressions are ridiculous," she said before downing the contents of her beer. Even without makeup, Sam was a very conventionally attractive blonde woman, although she was extremely short, just under 5 foot tall. In some ways we look like brother and sister, both relatively short with freckles, blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. Sam mostly wore athleisure or sporty clothes while I was a fan of breezy chinos with untucked button-down short sleeve shirts, usually some kind of blue or a pattern. I liked the way blue framed my beard, which was well-groomed, thick, curly, red, and came down to my sternum. "It reminds me of my 'Fight Like A Girl' video series. I wish men had a more open mind about gender roles." "Don't let women off the hook. The feminine girly shit can be so oppressive. Everybody reinforces it." "Yeah. Though, I wish some of the feminine stuff would rub off on guys more, like empathy, caring about hygiene-" "And not being sexist monsters? Yeah, good luck with that." Sam grinned at me. "Thank you for getting everything at the store earlier," I paused and smiled at her. "By the way, can I kiss you?" She nodded and I gave her a thank you kiss, then she playfully poked me in the ribs. She liked trying to get me off balance, but always stopped short of actually hurting me. It was playful. She gently pushed me into our modest living room in the one bedroom, one bathroom apartment we rented, that still cost practically everything we made a month in rent, and sat down to watch some TV. I wasn't a fan of stand-up comedy, but Sam loved it so we watched a lot of it. "Oh I probably should have said 'no' to that kiss, some guy came in looking like crap before I left work today. No idea what that was about." "I'm sure I'll be fine. We just had two of the most powerful vitamin blast smoothies I've ever made." She started rubbing my feet on the couch and after a while, I reciprocated. We stopped watching the show and made eye contact for a while. "Hey Spence," she paused, "no penetration tonight okay, just go down on me." This was a common request from Sam, and it had been almost a week since I'd penetrated her. She didn't orgasm from it, and I loved making her orgasm, so I didn't mind. I wouldn't dare try and talk her into pentrative sex anyway. I'd done a multi-video series on intra-relationship sexual boundaries and that kind of "pestering" was a huge no-no. I smiled before walking into the bedroom with her, leaving the TV on while we made love, mostly cunnilingus, for the last time in our current bodies. ~ [Smells Like Teen Spirit by Feuerbach Quartet (Nirvana)] If I hadn't gotten the Oatmeal Switch from Sam when she kissed me, I would have when she got up in the middle of the night, broke down shitting her guts out, and then crawled back into the bed with me. I woke up in a puddle of her sweat and came down with symptoms myself about half an hour after phoning the CDC hotline. The woman from the CDC showed up, an intimidating force of professionalism, about two hours later after the local police had roped off the area outside our apartment. She was attractive, thin, wearing a black skirt with a gray blazer, and looked like she was in her early thirties. She immediately sat us both down in our living room while we shivered from being consumed by a disease that would change our lives forever. "I'm sorry to tell you both that you've caught the disease commonly known as the Oatmeal Switch. Luckily it seems to have been contained to you two and another individual who passed it to you. This is a newish strain going around that can affect people as old as 24 or 25. You'll change your sex over the next 2-3 three weeks. Male to female, female to male. You'll turn into little kids, switch genitals, and then grow up to around 17 or 18- year-old bodies, based on your current age." I tried processing the information. I knew about the Switch, everyone did, but I hadn't heard there was a strain that affected people in their early twenties. "If you find yourself in any great pain or notice any of the unusual symptoms in this pamphlet, please call this number," she handed up a couple of large envelopes that we started opening. They were filled with glossy paper of various sizes and shapes. "You're not to leave the house until you reach pre-adolescent intersex stage, and honestly, I wouldn't even then," she said glancing outside at the neighbors looking curiously at the activity around our front door. Sam and I were speechless. We'd spent hours taking turns in the bathroom or sleeping. It was all I could do to hold my guts in or stay awake while this woman spoke. I looked at the card in her pamphlet. "Hazel Gauther," I said out loud. She corrected my pronunciation of her last name and said, "Hazel was the name I gave myself after I caught the switch." She sighed, "can't catch it twice, so survivors are almost always sent in for these types of chats. Any questions?" We both shook our head. We just wanted her to leave. "Fine by me. Get yourselves a Switch counselor, if you can afford it. Do you have a washer and dryer?" We nodded. "Good. You're going to need it. Keep clean even if it seems like more trouble than it's worth. Also, order a ton of rice, butter, and salt. Or potatoes. During the third stage, you're going to be eating non-stop. Don't worry about getting fat, it's almost impossible. Just eat." She paused while we stared blankly at her. "You're probably going to forget most of this conversation, so... one sec," she grabbed a sharpie and started writing a few notes on my envelope. She seemed rushed. "Family?" she asked. We shook our heads. Our families were on the other side of the country and we wanted nothing to do with them. They felt the same way about us. She frowned. "Well, I hope you have some kind of help. At least you have each other. Be honest with yourselves. You're going to be different people. After the first stage talk to each other about the changes, but don't bother now because your brains are turning to mush. Look, I don't know you two, but take it from me and don't be assholes. When the hormones hit hard during the puberty stage, it's going to be tough not to get really, you know, shitty or weird." She took a deep breath and stood up, clearly ready to leave. "Good luck." We both looked at each other with tears in our eyes after she walked out. ~ [Street Spirit (Fade Out) by 2Cellos (Radiohead)] "I think we're at almost the exact same... or we're in the same state. Right?" Sam said, squeezing some warm water on the back of my neck. I nodded. It was odd that we could both fit in the bath together. We were now a week into the Switch and child-sized, with oversized heads. All my hair had fallen out, including my eyebrows, which was a warning sign, but when I called to report it they asked if I also felt joint pain. I didn't so they didn't refer me to a doctor. I was the most sad about my beard, which I had since high school, coming out in clumps. I'd spent a lot of time shaping and combing beard oil into it. I didn't even start my YouTube channel as a feminist, I started it giving out beard maintenance tips. My face felt so weirdly smooth, I still wasn't used to it. "What did the CDC say about your hair?" Sam asked. "That it's a sign of possible 'intense genetic dislocation' which means that I'm probably going to have a lot of recessive genes now that I didn't before." "What does that mean?" "I'm not sure. I don't know a lot about my family history. I guess I'll look very different from before. I mean, even more than no longer being a guy." We swapped places and I started bathing her. We were using some of the amazing strawberry scented organic soap Walker Talent had sent as part of a huge care package. They'd included a personal note from everyone, including Kurt Walker who wrote a separate letter as well, talking about how they'd be supporting me through this "transition." It came with a ton of Domino's Pizza gift cards, which sounded a lot better than eating through bags and bags of rice and potatoes. There were also loads of variously sized pajamas and underwear, all neutral colors. "That'll be weird. I mean, I like that we looked so much alike before," Sam said. "Oh well." She paused then continued, "it's going to be so weird turning into a guy. You know, when I was little I used to fantasize about it. Having a penis, running around and wrestling with the guys. It never fully went away. I wanted to have short hair and not have to wear dresses. Did you ever fantasize about being a woman?" "I can't say that I did. I mean, I suppose I've been curious in an abstract way, but never gave it much thought. " I continued washing her blonde hair and turned on the faucet to get some more hot water. "I definitely don't think I've ever been much of a 'typical guy' though." "Heh, seriously. You already sit down to pee." "Well it's less messy that way," I replied. "And you wear makeup in your youtube videos. And you color coordinate your outfits." "It's just a little bit of makeup and well, I want things to match." "You spend more time grooming your beard every day than I do worrying about my hair all week." She paused. "Yeah, I think you'll probably like it, being a woman." I didn't respond, but I thought that she might be right. The idea certainly never repulsed me. I paused before saying, "it's going to be a big change." "We can give each other advice, you know," she said. "Yeah. Like, boxer briefs are the best and having a beard is easier than not having one." She smiled, "good to know. You need bras that fit, don't just buy anything, get measured. You know about guys being creeps, but get used to dudes staring at you all the time. Heh." "Oh yeah, and you should be careful about how you approach women. Remember that there's a decent chance they'll think you're hitting on them or could be a threat." "Oh right, good call," she said. "Tampons always, never pads and you should get on the pill, even though it's a pain remembering to take it. Or get an IUD. And have lots of midol on hand for period cramps." I nodded but didn't reply. I didn't want to think about cramps or babies or anything even related to it. There was a long pause as we finished bathing and then dried off. Our genitals were reddish and both small nubs for urination, though I also had a barely visible slit beneath. We were close to the same height, but I was probably about an inch taller. "Women's clothes are crap, by the way. Sizes rarely mean anything and don't buy into the bullshit about outfits and accessorizing and crap. Maybe you'll just be able to wear some of my stuff and me yours?" "Yeah, good idea," I replied. "It sucks that this nullifies our marriage for two years, but at least we don't have to do more paperwork to renew it," she said, putting on some loose pajamas. "Yeah. I mean, I think I'm going to keep my name. You?" "Sam and Spencer are both kinda good non-binary names. Yeah, same name. Same... everything, really. Why should we have to change everything about ourselves? I'm pissed that about $2,500 worth of tattoos have disappeared al-fucking-ready." "I agree completely!" I said excitedly. "Let's just be the same people, Sam. Same person, different sex. What do you think?" "Yes, please," she hugged me. "It might be fun to guy it up every now and then," she said, flexing a muscle. "Oh yeah, good idea. Maybe I'll get some earrings." She smiled at me. "I'll pierce them for you. Let's just... no huge changes, this is already enough," she said playfully punching me and tickling me. Oddly, I wasn't ticklish despite having been before. ~ [Riptide by Simply Three (Vance Joy)] I was sitting at our laptop reading emails wearing only panties due to the heat. Not having male genitals along with wearing panties made hot days a million times more bearable. There was nothing resembling a man left about me anywhere. I'd already found myself appreciating the simple clean lines of the underwear. Nothing bulky, just pleasing coverage. "Kurt Walker emailed me again. He says that film director still wants to interview us for his documentary about the Switch. The guy who made that really fucked up Oscar-nominated movie with the incest." "Oh yuck. Fuck that guy," Sam replied. "Meh. He was a music video director for like two decades. He did that weird muppet one by Wevie Stunder you love." "Still, fuck that. Sounds like a pervert. Tell him no." he paused. "Did you email your parents?" Sam asked while chewing some cereal. I shook my head, which now had an inch or two of fine black hair on it. I'd had blonde hair, both my parents had had blonde hair, and all of my grandparents had blonde or dirty blonde hair. I had no idea how mine was now so dark brown it looked black. Sam had emailed their parents a couple of days into the second stage. Just trying to reconnect. It hadn't gone well, and they replied saying a lot of terrible things about how ungrateful Sam was and how they would refuse to call him a male, even though Sam had told them they preferred "they / their" to him or her. We were about halfway through the second stage, but I had started going through some puberty changes before my uterus had even formed. It was a big warning sign and I had a doctor show up and run some tests. I hadn't even gained an inch in height but I'd already started showing breast growth, hair growth, fat redistribution, all kinds of things. They said that it was a few days early and it might affect my development, but that since my family history was going to be less relevant because of the genetic issue, we would have to wait and see how my body would continue reacting to the disease. "Your hair is going to be straight and black, which is going to make a lot of people jealous," Sam said. I smiled. "It's hard for me to imagine." I'd looked in the mirror and tried to imagine long black hair, but it was hard for me. I was just so used to slightly curly dirty blonde hair. She nodded in response. "I hope you don't get hit with any more surprises." I took a deep breath and replied, "yeah. They said to call them if I had any cramps that lasted longer than a few minutes or felt any unexpected numbness in my limbs." "That's scary as hell, Spence." "They did tell me that it wouldn't be life-threatening, which is important. Just that it might mean that I could be severely over-developed or most likely under-developed if this is where it stops, which is what they expect. So I could just be a very flat-chested woman, or this could be a blip and I'll be average." "Oh, that's not so bad you know. I had really small breasts and it made my life a lot easier in so many ways." I nodded. "I'll know in a day or two. I just hope the awesome guy you turn into will be into flat-chested dark-haired non-binary types." "I'm sure I'll be into it," she smiled. "You've got some energy and some color in your cheeks, are you going to make any more YouTube uploads? I've been Instagramming some." "Oh ugh, no. I'm feeling way too self-conscious about my looks" This was true. The bodily changes had me feeling very awkward. "Maybe after the last stage." Sam came over and rubbed my shoulder, then said, "I love you, you know." "I love you, too." She read over my shoulder for awhile while I browsed the internet and then said, "I'm curious about sex as a guy, I admit." "Heh," I responded. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it a lot. Sex as a woman." "Don't rush penetration. You're going to be like, 'is that it?' Getting eaten out is the real deal." I thought, "I'd already fantasized about being penetrated and it didn't seem bad." Then I felt my face turn red thinking about it. We were still child-sized and Sam was hiding their genitals, but if Sam wanted to experiment I would do it. Out loud I said, "Maybe I'll like it more?" Sam shrugged and said, "I doubt it." Two days later when the intense food cravings hit, my breasts had already grown more and my areolas had expanded. We ate six pizzas between us that first day and the next morning when I woke up, I couldn't even hold my breasts in my hands any longer. They never stopped growing until the end of the final stage. The largest bra that had come with the care package was overflowing and didn't fit. The medical conclusion was "hyperestrogenism leading to isosexual precocity and juvenile macromastia due to genetic factors influenced by Daejeon Syndrome, commonly known as Oatmeal Switch." I was the twelfth case and the doctors noted that my experience was similar to the first eleven in that hyperestrogenism subsided completely after the puberty stage. ~ [Clocks by Eklipse (Coldplay)] "I think I'm done," I said putting the half-eaten slice of pizza down. "No appetite." "So you're done, done?" Sam asked, shirtless and crossing his muscular arms. He'd grown a nice little beard during the puberty stage that turned out to be slightly reddish. Sam had always had a somewhat angular face, and as a male it was now emphasized. Sharp cheekbones and an elfen jawline. The beard hid a lot of that, but seemed like this new Sam could have been the old one's fraternal twin. "Done, done. Yeah." I could tell the changes had stopped a couple of hours ago, but I could hardly believe that this body was now mine. It was just so completely different from how I used to look, even in my face. It would be almost impossible to believe this new girl was even a blood relative of my old self. We were both white, I guess, but that was it. My face looked like an actress, but neither of us could think of her name. I was mostly hiding my new and absurdly voluptuous body under a large sweatshirt and pajamas, which were baggy enough to make me look fat even though I was slightly underweight for my height. I brushed crumbs off my sweatshirt where my large bust was thrusting out. There was a grease stain from having my chest attract crumbs so much. "So what do you think?" His voice was slightly deeper than before the switch while mine was a nearly resonance-free soprano. "You were right. I like it." "I knew it. I don't know how, just a feeling." Sam had changed his mind about pronouns a couple of days ago and wanted to be a "he." I suspect that part of the decision had come wanting to be in solidarity with me, since I was asking to be a "her,." I vastly preferred "she / her," and the preference had happened pretty early on. But who knows what sort of lessons about masculinity Sam had learned over the years. Guys had hang ups about a lot of things. Maybe Sam wanted to feel manly. "But I don't know why I like it yet. It's pretty confusing." "I like how much stronger I feel. It's amazing how little effort I have to put into anything to 'feel strong.' When I was a woman I'd really have to work at it all the time. Now it's just easy." "And I think that was just wasted on me. I literally have not thought about not being strong or feeling weak even once." He smiled at me. The doctors had been very concerned about my body during the puberty stage. They said that I was developing too much, too fast, and that my breasts were mostly dense growth, which would put me at risk for difficult to detect breast cancer. I was to be vigilant. The doctor's hadn't seen anything abnormal about my vagina and reproductive system, which was good. I'd gotten pretty used to being poked and prodded down there. The doctors specialized in the Switch and tiptoed around gender identity questions and had all kinds of terminology for my change: "current genital appearance," "female presenting genitalia," "Switch induced sexual characteristics." I wish they'd just call it my pussy or vagina, or just say, "where your dick used to be." They thought I'd be sensitive about losing it, but I wasn't. I felt a hundred times better without it. "How did I make it through the day with that organ between my legs," I thought. The idea that I'd ever had a hairy penis and testicles seemed disgusting to me. The idea of another man's penis though, that was a different story. I'd had almost constant sexual thoughts about Sam during the puberty stage, but he'd gone out of his way not to touch me sexually other than the occasional kiss. I kept my libido in check because I didn't want this to be a toxic experience for Sam. There is a chance he might not even be heterosexual, after all. I decided to test it out innocently. "Doctors suggested checking for lumps in my breasts. You have more experience with that kind of thing, want to help?" "Sure," he said and we headed into the bathroom. I was still getting used to the feel of my boobs moving while I walked, how they fell over my rib cage and onto the top of my stomach or how they'd bump against my arms. At 5' 6" I was only about a couple of inches shorter than Sam, but his shoulders were so much broader. Mine were bone-thin and the neck of the sweatshirt was almost big enough for me to poke the entire width of them through. Having such thin shoulders and arms felt unexpectedly strange, almost alien. I took off my sweatshirt and exposed my massive breasts. They were huge white pear-shaped tits hanging halfway down my chest, each one as big as my head, and probably Sam's too. My large areolas were almost perfect circles with rings of various shades of pink, almost five inches in diameter. The nipples in the middle were thick and round, almost fake looking. When they were growing, the nipples had been pointing down towards my stomach, but over the last couple of days the breasts had filled out towards the bottom and now they were pointing forward and a little upward. It made them look a lot better. Sexy, even. "It's not just the huge boobs. I never imagined you'd have such an hourglass shape. It's almost unreal looking." I slowly nodded. It did look unreal. "I look like some kind of porn actress," I thought. My body had a simple but striking curve to it. If it wasn't for the huge boobs, I would be a conventionally "hot" girl. But there was no getting away from these tits. I'd already accidentally knocked a coffee mug off our kitchen table, shattering it on the floor. They'd constantly been in the way for a few days now. I wasn't sure if I'd ever get used to them. I was very much a woman now, head to toe, and anyone could tell from a mile away. Sam started gently squeezing my breasts from behind. I watched his hands working them and started feeling aroused. Being turned on as a woman was so completely different from when I was a man. I still got a little bit of that same tunnel-vision, but I could feel my whole body warming up and getting more sensitive instead of just a stiffening cock. If Sam's hands were bigger, I would probably be getting even more turned on, but they were just a little bigger than mine. I would never say this out loud, but I couldn't help but think about it. Toxic and ugly thoughts. It reminded me of the video I made about the pain you can cause in your partner from hangups about 'size' from my Pornmind series on YouTube. "I wonder if these things are going to mess my back up." Sam frankly said, "honestly, as your live-in personal trainer, I'd recommend a few squats every morning, a few sit-ups, and some back strengthening work using the exercise ball. Just be sure and tie your hair up like I showed you. Your back and stomach already have some definition, so you've already got genetics on your side." "Running is out of the question," I replied. "It was painful and weird just jogging a little to test what it out." "Yeah. Get a nice sports bra and go for a long walk every day or so. I work with a woman who wears two sports bras for extra support. That might help." I nodded and looked at my long straight black hair. It was already well down my back, but I mostly kept it in a ponytail. I'd looked up some ways to wear it up and practiced making buns a few times. There was no way I was going to cut it. I loved the feel of this hair. I loved laying all my hair and how it was just everywhere, even if a strand or two got painfully tugged too hard now and then. Because of my breasts, I had to sleep on my back, any other way was uncomfortable or painful. "Are you wearing mascara?" Sam asked, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I shook my head, "I don't even think there's any in the house. Why?" "Eyelashes. It's just that, well, it looks like you're wearing it. Or false lashes." I shrugged but could kind of see what Sam was getting at. My eyelashes were really pronounced and thick. My eye color had changed to amber from blue, which was also a shocking change. My nose and mouth had a different shape as well. Thicker lips. A few moles and a birthmark were gone. Honestly, there wasn't much of the old me left. Just my skin color and probably details here and there I wasn't noticing. "You did shave under your arms, though?" I sighed and said, "yeah, I know I said I wouldn't but it was like a lot of big black hair poking out. I didn't like the way it looked. I know you didn't shave yours and I didn't mind, but you could also barely see yours..." Sam chuckled and said, "no, I just noticed it. No judgment." "No, I understand. I mean, I think I want to keep my legs shaved too. I want them to be smooth." I didn't make eye contact with him. I never said anything but there was a part of me that wished Sam had shaved her armpits and legs every now and then. I was deeply embarrassed and felt sexist thinking it, but still. If it was my body, I was going to do it. "You really don't have to shave your legs. You are beautiful, you know. Not just your body, but your face too. Everything." He paused and said, "Ohh, wait. Olivia Wilde. That's who you look like." "Oh, yeah. I can see that," I said noticing a likeness and I thought about what makeup I'd need to use to really get her look. I wasn't going to argue with Sam about shaving my legs, but I was probably going to keep them smooth. I prefer "smooth." I felt something poking into the top of my butt. "Sam..." "Yeah, sorry." "No, it's okay." I responded. His hands moved from my breasts to my back as I turned around and looked at him, "let me see it," I asked. He nodded and took off his sweatpants revealing his hard cock. "I think it's a bit bigger than mine was," I said trying to size it up. "Maybe," Sam said. "How do you feel about it? Is it disgusting to you, or...?" "No, not disgusting," I responded. I couldn't remember ever being disgusted by penises. Mine or anyone else's I'd seen. Sam's wasn't disgusting to me at all, but just looking at it wasn't turning me on. He had been hiding it from me for days because he didn't want to expose himself to me unless I asked. It didn't seem like a huge deal, but I guess he was going out of his way not to be threatening to me as a man. I understood... but there was something about it that kind of annoyed me. "Can I touch it?" I liked how clear and crisp my voice sounded in the bathroom. Like a violin. Sam nodded with with a thoughtful expression. He started breathing heavy. I put it in my hands and knew that my fingers must've been very cold against it, since it was very, very warm. I started stroking it and sort of rubbing my thumb against the underside of it, which he was flexing against. "Do you like that?" I asked, knowing the answer. I could feel some moisture inside the single black pair of panties that still fit from the care package. Sam nodded and put his hands on my hips either out of some sexual impulse or to keep his balance, I wasn't sure. It made me immediately conscious of how wide my hips were compared to my thin waist, which to be honest, made me wonder vainly if I could make a living as an Instagram model. I was used to having a big wide middle and wasn't used to the feeling of the incredibly pinched waist. Him putting his hands on me turned me on more. The head of his cock brushed up against the bottom of my left breast and I felt my body flush with waves of warmth. At eye level and close to Sam's face, I could sense him tensing up. I could smell his beard oil. I liked it. "Can I kiss you?" He asked. I nodded. Sam started kissing me, and I kissed him back. This wasn't my first time kissing a guy. I had a bi-sexual friend in high school who kissed me some on a band trip. I didn't hate it, but preferred women and let him know. I was getting turned on by kissing Sam, but it definitely wasn't from anything I was used to. It was a little bit of the feel of his cock in my hand, but also just knowing that I was touching it, that I had it, and that every time I tugged it it made him want me more. That was it. It was turning me on how much he was turned on. I wasn't sure what I wanted him to do, but I loved the wordlessness of the moment. Just pure, spontaneous, arousal. Wanting me. There it was. The more I thought about him wanting me, the more I got lost in the moment. I softly made a "mmm" sound as he pulled me closer by my hips. And then he splashed hot cum all over my stomach and hand. "Oh, Sam," I said, and he came again and shot a little on a boob. I had no idea this stuff came out so hot. I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped myself before it dripped on my sweatpants and started chuckling. At least I knew he was into girls. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," Sam said, tucking his penis back in his pants. "No, don't be. I was the one jerking you off." I hugged him and said, "I love you and find you attractive, Sam." "I feel the same. I'm glad." Yeah," I said, but what I didn't say was why I found him attractive, that it was because of his desire for me. I wasn't even sure what I found physically attractive anymore and was glad he didn't ask me to be specific. I don't think I could have been and wasn't a good enough liar to make something up. Before we fell asleep later that night I almost whispered to him that it turned me on that he came on me, but I couldn't think of a way to phrase it that didn't sound like something just really unsexy like, "I love when I make you premature ejaculate." There was just no way for me to say it the way I wanted to say, so I said nothing. ~ [Shake It Off by Simply Three (Taylor Swift)] "I'm sorry, did you say 32L?" I replied in astonishment. "I thought these things only went up to DD or something." The very young sales assistant shook her head, "I hear that a lot, ma'am, but no, they go up much higher. We don't have any 32L bras, or anything right around that, in stock though, but I'll be glad to order you some. Unless you want an M-cup nursing bra and we can try tightening a wider band?" "I already feel like... no, I don't want a nursing bra," I said, not wanting to lay too much on this sales assistant. "I already feel like I have two feedbags on my chest," was the half joke, half lament I stopped myself from saying. I looked at the measurement readout and the ordering information on her computer kiosk. 42-23-35. I couldn't even imagine having a 42" shoulder measurement for a suit when I was a guy. I wondered just how much of my 109 lbs was boobs and butt. I was going to need some really good underwear. The prices were outrageous, but Kurt Walker told me that he'd be personally taking care of us buying new wardrobes. He gave us a thousand dollars each. It was shockingly generous. I ordered three regular bras and one minimizer and then bought some "one size fits all" comfort bras that I could sleep in, but was just going to wear until the real ones came in. I looked around the store. Maxine's was known for being a great "plus-size" women's store. A lot of the clothes I looked at seemed more like something you'd cover a bed with than something that would fit me. "I don't think much of this stuff fits me, do you know where I should go?" I asked. Jasmine, the sales assistant and the only other person in the store replied, "um, well, I'm not sure." She looked at me and smiled. "You're so busty but really thin, so it's tough. I would just go somewhere with a massive selection and try on a lot of things. Like Wal-Mart or Macy's. Maybe Old Navy. You might get lucky and find something at some little place in a mall." I frowned. This sounded like a lot of work. When I was a guy I just went to thrift stores and found stuff pretty easy. "What about a thrift store?" I asked. She shrugged and said, "Maybe you'll get lucky and find something, but those places usually just have the more common sizes." I sighed. Jasmine must have picked up on the flash of shopping exhaustion I just felt, saying, "we might have a few things here. We've got some nice hoodies, sports bras, and some yoga pants." She smiled and showed me some clothes, and kept bringing me stuff in the changing room. I tried on a number of things and bought whatever fit well so that I at least wasn't walking around in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Women's clothes were a lot tighter and covered less skin than what I'd worn as a guy, which made me feel a little exposed, but checking myself out in a mirror was all I needed to do to get used to it. Snug fits looked a lot better. I caught sight of myself in the reflective glass of Maxine's while leaving. I looked pretty hot, I had to admit. The hoodie was fitted enough so that my hourglass shape was on display and the yoga pants made it look like I had a bubble butt. The hoodie and the type of bra I was wearing went some way towards hiding my large bust, but if someone really studied me they would have an idea about what was lurking under there. The strap of the black purse I'd bought resting between my boobs was also a helpful reminder for all to see. I thought about how handy the hoodie was going to be since I'd been wearing blankets around the house lately. We were keeping the temperature the same as we always had, but the air conditioner just seemed colder now that I was a woman. Even at 68 degrees I was shivering in the house. When I was a guy I preferred it even lower than that and Sam had definitely picked up that masculine trait. Afterwards I found some good deals at Macy's at the Beverly Center and a helpful sales rep managed to get me into some more clothes that fit pretty well. The jeans were easy, and luckily the talent agency had a lax dress code so I could get away with them. I bought a few blouses and high-cut v- neck shirts, all dark colors, based on the sales rep's suggestion for not being showy about the boobs. I tried on a few sizes of a shift dress that I thought would look good on me. None of them fit, and I was getting tired of shopping, but I liked the "feel" of wearing one. I found a sort of thrill, or odd sense of self-confidence, thinking, "I'm one of those hot LA girls now," as I walked around the department store. I caught a couple of guys checking me out, but they didn't approach me. I walked past them and thought, "I bet they're looking at my yoga pants pantyline." I smiled then shook my head thinking, "I'm more hetero as a girl than I was as a guy." Afterwards, I stopped by the pharmacy and bought tampons. It felt a little surreal. I would be getting a period soon. I'd been researching everything I could on menstruation. I wasn't looking forward to it. While waiting for the prescription to be filled, I browsed the aisles for women's beauty products. The care package had some shampoo and conditioner that I'd grown to really like so I got more of it. The idea of having perfect hair made me strangely happy. I loved washing it. Bumble and Bumble Gentle Care Shampoo and one of the same company's conditioners was what I'd gotten used to. I picked up a weekly clarifying shampoo as well. I had on Eklipse and was listening to Electric Air through one earpod. I hadn't been able to stop listening to these guys for days, there was just something about the turbulent yet familiar string music that I was connecting with. While listening to music and daydreaming about perfect and flawless black hair, I browsed the lipstick and nail polish sections. It made me feel strangely guilty. Nail polish was just pointless. Perfect hair I could rationalize since I just liked the way it looked and felt, but lipstick was definitely a toxic item. Objectifying myself for the male gaze, reminding them of my vagina with my lips. "Next I'll be wearing fake nails," I thought to myself. I made eye contact with a man who worked at the grocery store and immediately looked away. He approached me saying, "need any help, miss?" He was tall and broad shouldered. I thought, "I bet you want to fuck me," but said, "I'm fine," out loud. "Well, let me know if you need help finding something," and smiled. His nametag said "Tommy." I avoided eye contact with him while I shopped realizing that Tommy had a face and body I could really get used to sleeping naked beside, or riding until we were both covered in sweat. When I got into my car and shut the door, I said, "God I need to get fucked," out loud. ~ [Rock the Casbah by Eklipse (The Clash)] "Aaaaaaahhhhh!" the screams rang out the second I stepped back into my internship at Walker Talent. Only 27 people worked in the office, but almost every one of them managed to come up to me within seconds of walking in. "Oh my god, you look so different!" "How are you, dear?" "Amazing." "Those can't be real." "Those jeans look amazing on you." "Beautiful. You are beautiful." "I bet your husband is happy." I politely dealt with all the compliments and microaggressions, thinking that if I ever did get back into streaming my thoughts, I'd have a lot more material. I looked around when I got to where my desk was supposed to be and found nothing. "Um, where's my desk?" The nearest person to me mimed that they were zipping their mouths shut and Kurt Walker's personal assistant, a stylish man in his 30s named Brian, came up to me and said, "Ms. Moore, right this way." I looked around and everyone was smiling at me, "so this must be good news" I thought, and followed him into Mr. Walker's office. Almost every inch of the walls were covered in pictures of Walker and famous celebrities, models, singers, artists, and so on. Mr. Walker, tanned within an inch of his life, sat with a smug expression on his face as I entered, but stood up and extended an arm over his desk to shake my hand before I could sit down. "Mr. Walker, I just wanted to thank you again in person for all you've done for me and Sam. I don't know how I'll repa-" "Don't worry yourself, Ms. Moore. You know you are the first employee I've ever had who caught the Switch? I'm just glad you could come back to us. How was your... transition?" He arched one eyebrow. I looked over at Brian who'd now sat down in a chair beside me with a grin, so I smiled as well, and said, "it was, uhm, fine." "Fine?" "I mean, it could be worse." I felt nervous. "Do you mean to tell me, Ms. Moore, that catching a disease that completely changed your gender, your sex, in some ways your very purpose in life, was a sort of la-dee-la ho-hum affair? I refuse to believe it. Come on now, tell me." He tented his fingers. I furrowed my brow and thought that this was getting into dangerously boundary crossing territory, but then thought, "you know what, fuck it. This guy supported me and Sam like crazy. He's practically family," and decided to satisfy his curiosity. My body eased up and I started with, "well, first, Sam and I meant what we said in all those emails. Your help was just so, so amazing, sir. I just can't thank you enough." He nodded along while I was talking and said, "Oh, of course, no problem. Now tell me... any juicy details?" He arched his other eyebrow. I half laughed and thought for a second. "Well, for starters, I somehow don't miss being a guy, I just don't. It's like the feeling of 'being a guy' was almost wiped away. I'm still not completely sure about what being a woman is like, but... yeah, that was odd. I don't miss it." He arched both eyebrows and said, "go on." "Umm, well. Buying clothes has been hard. I'm an unusual size. I mean, just... well women's clothes are very different." I course corrected not wanting to get into measurements. "The financial help with the new wardrobe was amazing." "I can help you shop if you need a second pair of eyes, just give me a call," Brian interjected. I smiled back at him as I got a distinctly gay vibe. Though I reprimanded myself that just because he wanted me to help shop for clothes he wasn't necessarily gay. I temporarily got lost in thought reprimanding myself when Kurt Walker interrupted. "You going to keep your name? Spencer's a boy's name." "There are lots of women named Spencer," I said trying not to sound condescending. "But I would probably keep my name no matter what. It's just a name." "Is that right, Brian?" Brian replied, "that's right, sir. Spencer is a unisex name, though typically male." We nodded at each other and then looked back at Mr. Walker. "Okay, Spencer's a girl's name. What about sex?" he said, leaning forward. I croaked and my mouth went wide, "I... what?" He responded, "preference change? Do you like guys now? Girls still? Both?" "I uhh... that's really private." He nodded resignedly and then said, "what about kids? Are you staying married, gonna have kids, that kind of thing?." I nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm going to stay married. Uhh I do want a family, yeah." I hadn't told anybody this yet or even mentioned it to Sam, but it was true. I smiled thinking, "it's perfectly normal for a woman to want to start a family." "That answers that!" he said. Brian smiled but it looked like a forced work-smile. "Brian, what actress does Ms. Moore remind you of?" Before Brian could respond, Walker said, "Olivia Wilde, that's who. Eyes, nose, jawline. You could be sisters." I smiled and said, "thank you for the compliment." "Anyway, Ms. Moore, I've mostly run out of things for you to do around here on social media. I've contracted that out to a firm that actually cares about that kind of crap. I don't. But here's the thing, I think I have some interesting prospects for you. I want you to follow Brian around and learn the ropes for becoming a personal assistant. I think you've got the attention to detail and drive to be a great one. What do you say?" I paused before responding. I wasn't too surprised about the social media thing. I barely did anything here at all anyway and just wanted something on my resume. To be honest, I'd looked into retail before catching the Switch, just so I could have some monthly income to fall back on for when the internship inevitably ended. "So it would be like another internship, but for being a personal assistant?" "That's almost exactly right, though I would be paying you more, and I have some really good prospects for employment in the pipeline. I find your personal story worth investing in." He smiled. It seemed like a good opportunity so I said, "okay, when do I start?" He gestured towards Brian and within minutes we were occupying a boardroom. He started walking me through every detail of his work as a personal assistant to Kurt Walker. I was astonished to see the pay rate. I'd be making twice as much as an "intern" as I'd ever made in a real job before. Later that day, I got to meet a lot of Mr. Walker's housekeepers, groundskeepers, and others who he kept employed just to run his home and keep his rather large family happy. I was told that all in all he had seven kids with three ex-wives and a pregnant now-fiance around my age. He was a creep. I also found out that a major benefit of this internship was that I would get to use one of Walker's spare SUVs to drive around, which meant we weren't dependent on just one car. Being a personal assistant was mostly about two things: anticipating the needs of your client and checklists. I had dozens of different checklists. Making sure the house cleaning service was doing its job? There's a checklist. Meal prep? There's a checklist. Family vacation? There's a checklist. Walker wants to have a big party? There's a checklist. And so on. Luckily I didn't have to attend any of the big parties, just set everything up. Brian was there to manage things in person. I actually connected with the work in a way that reminded me of vlogging or violin. It felt good. ~ [Believer by Simply Three (Imagine Dragons) "This guy Kurt sounds like a fucking creep, Spence." I finished plating the piping hot tofu and kale fried rice I had made for dinner and put two servings on our small table. "Wait a couple of minutes to eat, Sam." I got some silverware and paper towels, while Sam got a beer out of the fridge. I was only wearing some lacy red thong panties and a sheer white nightgown. I wanted him to notice my body, even if I was chilly. "Am I right or what?" Sam continued, still not showing any signs of sexual interest. "He's a little creepy, yeah," I said sitting down. I put on some Simply Three for some atmosphere. "But don't forget, he gave us all that support. New wardrobe, all that food, money, et cetera." I'd given Sam a general overview of my new internship offer, but didn't bring up the "kids" question. That was going to be a big conversation when it eventually came up. Sam huffed, "creepy is creepy. Well anyway, congrats on the new internship or job. You're making more than me now." He raised his beer. I raised my wine glass and drank some. "Thank you." The alcohol was going right to my head and between my legs. I was going to tell Sam I was ready to have sex tonight. The thought of finally trying it was making me wet. I felt the cold air against my warming crotch and noticed my nippes were hard against my nightgown. I was so horny that I found myself squirming in my seat a little. Oblivious to my arousal, Sam talked about his work and how little people seemed to have cared about his transition compared to mine. "It's made my job a lot easier. The women I train seem to take me more seriously now. Internalized misogyny I guess. They probably don't even see it." He turned his beer up but kept his eyes on me. I slowly nodded. I really didn't know much about Sam's job. It wasn't just a normal gym, there was a lot of wellness and spiritual things along with it. Tons of different kinds of yoga. Sam had suggested I do a little yoga and I thought about a couple of the poses I wouldn't mind getting fucked in right now. I had a one-track mind. After Sam talked about a couple of dramatic stories that he'd missed from being out of work, there was a long silence as we ate. I thought about all the women he was training and didn't feel a single pang of jealousy. I'd been jealous a few times as a guy, but tried to keep it to myself. I had to remind myself, "It's important to trust your partner." I must trust Sam implicitly now or something. Sam smirked at me and said, "You must be cold," referring to my nipples poking through the nightgown. I nodded and smiled at him, then brushed some fried rice off my chest caught by my gown and said, "You know, I read online that scarves can really distract from breasts. Chokers too. Maybe I'll start wearing those." "Oh, huh. Are you going goth, Spence?" I smiled, "I don't think so. Just seemed like a good idea. And I have a long neck." I arched my head up. "Yeah you do." I kind of wanted to say, "Or you know, I could start wearing really tight low-cut shirts and let everyone see my big tits and hard nipples so the world would know what a sexy piece of ass you had waiting at home for you," but didn't. Fuck. Stuff like that had been popping into my head lately. Pornmind thoughts, internalized misogyny, objectifying myself. It was so gross, but god, it was like a drug, the thoughts. We ate for awhile longer while I was lost in thought and then Sam said, "so what's this Brian guy like?" "Gay I think," I said instantly, and realized that I said it defensively, as if him being gay meant that Sam didn't have to get jealous. What kind of instinct was that? Sam never got jealous before. Was Sam jealous? I looked at him to see his response. "Oh, well. Do you think Walker is too?" I squinted and couldn't tell if Sam was jealous or not. "Definitely not. Well, you never know I guess. I can't get a read on him. He definitely looks hetero, and he's been married to a lot of women, has tons of kids, but he's also kind of weird and mysterious. He's friends with lots of movie stars. I saw a picture in his office with him and Vera Cordero, maybe I can get you a date," I winked. Sam chuckled and opened another beer. I wasn't sure if Sam had been purposefully trying not to take on more masculine traits or if he was just naturally retaining so much of his old personality. He almost seemed like the same person, while I felt like I'd had my brain yanked out and replaced with a new one with a constant stream of new urges and desires. I smiled and took a bite of food, "hey, you know it's been over 24 hours since I got my IUD." "Yeah?," Sam raised his eyebrows at me. I took another bite. I wanted him to initiate this, but it was always up to me it seemed. I wasn't sure if it was just because of Sam's old feminine programming or something, but I was always the one. I'd looked up on some Switch Reddit posts and it sounded like all the female to male switch folks had voracious sex appetites. Sam was easy to turn on, but I had to do it, and then he would ejaculate so fast. I tried blowing him the night before last and he came in my mouth as soon as his cock hit my tongue. But for the last few days I'd had an itch I needed to scratch. I'd thought about it all day long, just wanting to feel him inside me. I tried fingering myself and knew it just wasn't the same. I was intensely curious. I didn't care if it hurt or how long it lasted, I just wanted him to stick his cock in me as far as it would go. I took a deep breath and said, "Sam, I want you to penetrate me tonight." "Okay," he smiled. "It will hurt." "I don't fucking care," I quickly replied and then tried to play it off like I wasn't really snapping at him by chuckling like it was a joke and taking another bite. But I really did snap at him. I don't think I've ever snapped at Sam before. He didn't notice the snapping and ate another bite saying, "how about we start in the shower?" I nodded and sharply inhaled, but we continued eating and drinking until he stood up and offered his hand. I took it and we walked into the bathroom. We only left the hallway light on and I helped him pull off his t-shirt then rubbed his chest. I shivered as he unfastened and pulled off my nightgown letting my massive breasts hang free. I checked to see if he was hard under his jeans but didn't stroke him. I wanted to leave his cock alone until he penetrated me. I closed my eyes for a split second and prayed to no one thinking, "please stay hard." I turned on the shower while he pulled his jeans and underwear down, then I pulled my panties down and stood in the water, Sam following behind. His eyes were all over me and my mind quickly flashed to shopping, work, anywhere I go in public I see guys staring at me. Sam was right about that and I still wasn't used to it. Sometimes it made me want to hide my gigantic boobs even more, but usually it just made me think about sex. I tried to reorient my thoughts towards Sam. I knew what I needed. "Let me help you there," I said, noticing that his cock wasn't all the way hard. I bent forward and let the hot water shower down on my back as I put his cock in my mouth. I only needed to give it two or three gulps before he was fully hard. I didn't love the feel of it in my mouth or anything, and actually Sam could do with a little manscaping, but just the idea of sucking dick turned me on. At this very moment, I was beyond the point of guilting myself over Pornmind thoughts. I faced away from him and arched my back, feeling the water running down my body, over my pussy, and around my inner thighs. "Please, please put it in me," I pleaded, spreading my legs and standing on my tiptoes. The benefits of being about the same height as your lover are that you both wear similar sized hats, you never have to adjust the driver's seat, and you can more easily have sex standing up. I felt his cock right at the entrance of my vagina and he grabbed my hips as he very slowly entered me. I winced from a slight internal tearing, but wow, it was so hot to get fucked. I turned my head to look back at him out of the corner of my eye as he began moving in and out of me. Seeing and feeling his body against mine made it even more real and I shuddered. "Are you okay, Spence" he asked. I nodded and wished he'd called me babe. "Just call me babe" I thought, but didn't say. Again, that was toxic thinking. Babe is diminutive. Why did I want to get called 'babe'? "Oh my fucking god," I said as he pushed deeper into me and the pain subsided. No more tearing. It still kind of hurt in a way, or maybe because he was so deep inside me it just felt like it should be hurting. I wasn't sure. It was a nice but completely unfamiliar pressure. The fleshy feeling of his cock inside my pussy was amazing. I never knew what I was missing as a guy. "I fucking love this," I thought then pushed back against him and squeezed one of my tits. "Oh fuck!" I yelped as he hit some place inside me, towards what felt like the back. "Oh fuck yes, right there. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." He made it eight more slow pumps before cumming inside me, but thankfully he came right on top of that spot I loved. I tingled feeling the warmth of his cum. I squeezed my other tit thinking, "damn, I want more." "Sorry, was that too soon?" Sam said, I could hear him grimace without having to look. He went soft and slipped out of me, but I turned around and kissed him. "It was so good, Sam," I said, resisting telling him I felt like we were just starting. I didn't want him to get a complex about the ejaculation. "I love you," I said reassuring him and kissed him again. Just hearing myself talk I could tell I was a vocally a more nurturing woman than Sam had ever been. She'd been cold at times, and it had hurt. I pressed by body against Sam and thought, "I want him to feel loved, unconditionally." He squeezed my butt as we kissed in the shower. Even though he wasn't, I could still feel him inside me and the thought of it made my eyes roll back in my head. I slipped two fingers inside my pussy, and played with myself while he caressed me. Colors were brighter, the air was crisper. Getting fucked changed my perspective on everything. I didn't even notice all the blood going down the drain. ~ [Supermassive Black Hole by Feuerbach Quartet (Muse)] I sipped my vodka and cranberry realizing it was only going to be a matter of time before a gangly guy in business casual clothes on the other side of the bar was going to approach me. "Sam better get here soon," I thought. Tonight was our fourth "gender date," Sam's joke of an idea that I eagerly went along with, where I would feminize myself with makeup and accessories and wear a dress while he would put on a suit. We'd go out for drinks and a meal somewhere nice. He was parking the car right now. My cheap black dress was very tight, with cap sleeves, a slight scoop neck, and a hemline slightly above the knee. It was deliberately chosen to minimize the giant boobs. Pink lipstick, a little eyeliner, a black lace choker with a ruby dangling from it, and some fake onyx earrings were my accessories of choice. I practiced a lot getting the look down of not looking like I was wearing makeup, despite wearing makeup. I always wore heels on these dates, and Sam told me that he'd never been able to feel comfortable in them. I never missed a step from the moment I slipped my first pair on. I was getting looks from men, customers and employees, and it was having the odd effect of making me feel relaxed and confident. For the last month and a half I'd been getting lost in my own objectification, a Pornmind of my own making, but I couldn't help myself. One gender date and one grocery trip were the two times during these six or so weeks where I overheard someone wondering if I was a porn star. For all these men knew I really was one. I thought about all the men who'd approached me since I became a woman. They were definitely not embarrassed of their desires. Not even a small amount. Usually it was just compliments, or asking me where my boyfriend or husband was at. Occasionally they got pushy or offensive. I wouldn't go out dressed like this without Sam. It would be begging for that kind of thing. I wrote a script for an upload called "Thoughts On Thots," where I was going to lay out a hot take about how I just couldn't find it in myself to get upset about catcalling or gawking. I just didn't feel the threat. A part of me suspected that I just hadn't met a dangerous situation yet. But still, I just did not give a fuck and would be lying if I said so. I never got around to uploading it or any new videos as a woman. It felt like the "Bearded Hubby" was dead in a way. "Hey Spencer," Sam said, showing up and giving me a squeeze on my shoulder. "Hey," I put my drink down. "I just started got something. Do you want to have a drink at the bar before sitting?" "Sure," Sam said sitting on a barstool. I uncrossed and then crossed my legs. Sam started ordering a drink. I sighed quietly thinking, "he didn't even check me out." I knew I looked hot in this dress. The jolt of mild resentment reminded me of our sex life. I just wanted him to fuck me, but Sam had a standard operating procedure of going down on me for a really long time while fondling my breasts and asking if I was enjoying it, which I always felt obligated to lie and say "yes" to. Afterwards, I mostly made him cum by putting his cock in my mouth, but sometimes he would say, "I want to kiss you" so he'd dry-hump me really slowly in missionary then he'd cum in me immediately after penetration. "I want to be so good at going down no you, Spence" Sam would say while we cuddled afterwards. I would just smile and tell him how good he was and he'd get a satisfied and heavy-lidded expression. A loving expression. I learned how to fake orgasms so he wouldn't catch on to me. Sam would talk about how when he was a woman he only orgasmed during cunnilingus and that I was "just like he used to be." In a way, the white lies felt good, and I enjoyed playing the role of the nurturing, supportive, and reassuring wife to a degree that was often confusingly arousing. "I need you," was a common refrain of mine, but that was as far as I would go. I was still incredibly embarrassed by my own thoughts and desires. "So how's the internship," Sam said drinking the most expensive beer the place had. "It's fine. I spend all of my time with Brian and barely seeing Kurt Walker." Brian excelled at his job, though, and was incredibly good at teaching. I soaked his lessons up like a sponge. "How's Brian?" Sam asked. Sam and Brian had hit it off really well the few times they'd met, but they only ever asked about each other through me. "He's good. I met his boyfriend yesterday. He thought creamy amethyst lipstick was a good look on me. I tried it. I am not a fan." I sipped my vodka cranberry. "It's hard for me to imagine. How much time and money do you spend on makeup, anyway?" He sounded a little gruff. "Not a lot," I lied. I liked having enough options to fit what looks I wanted. I enjoyed applying makeup. Not just makeup, I found a strange amount of comfort in beauty techniques or hygiene: tweezing, brushing, plucking, shaving, shaping, lotioning, cleansing, conditioning, clarifying, hydrating, exfoliating, scraping, flossing, washing, bathing, showering, moisturizing, soaking, rinsing, suffusing, infusing, permeating, and massaging. I tried to limit it to just a "morning" or "night" routine, but broke that rule often. Sam's dismissive response to my new hobby was, "I didn't do any of that when I was female and I was fine," but to his credit, he never complained that I was spending too much time in the bathroom. "I got an email from Mr. Walker asking if I could send my resume around to a few of his friends and clients who were looking for someone." "Sweet," was his monosyllabic response. He still hadn't bothered to compliment my appearance or check me out. I clenched my jaw. I loved all the work I put into dressing up for these dates, and I liked when he'd put his hand on the small of my back, or when I'd smell the strong cologne he wore for me, or when I caught him trying to get a peek down my cleavage. I'd become intimately familiar with every inch of my body and constantly asked Sam advice about exercises I could do around the house targeting specific looks. I became intensely interested in how different fabric textures looked and felt on my skin, and how different cuts of clothing framed me. These gender dates were like climaxes for me in a long story of thought and hard work, but Sam wasn't playing his role right. We moved to our table and Sam pulled my chair out sharing a knowing glance and a smirk with me. I didn't like that he thought this stuff was a joke since it was a massive turn-on to me. I don't think he even noticed. He also hadn't noticed that I wasn't being sexually fulfilled. It usually didn't take much foreplay for me to go from, "I'm not in the mood" or "my stomach is queasy" or "I feel gross" to "let's have sex." And then when I was ready, I wanted to be fucked hard, not treated like balloon Sam was afraid to pop. I wasn't going to break and I wanted him to try and break me. I knew what I wanted, but felt too embarrassed or guilty to ask for it. I started to feel a growing resentment towards my husband that I was always having to sacrifice my own pleasure for his feelings, but then guilted myself for the type of sex I wanted or not being more communicative. It was a poisonous negative thought spiral. I always thought, like I was doing tonight, that maybe this time he'd "get it." "Sorry I had to work overtime again tonight," Sam said after he ordered an appetizer. "All these new clients I've been picking up. I know I'm seeing less of you and I'm sorry." I reached out and held his hand, but didn't say anything. "I'm really loving this Instagram thing, by the way. The camera you recommended is great. All the thrift store homemaking stuff is cheap and raking in the followers. I smiled and said, "That's awesome, Sam." The funny part of that is that I taught him how to do social media professionally when he was a woman and he didn't care at all. Personally, I'd become completely disconnected from social media and found myself deleting accounts left and right, except for LinkedIn. I wanted peace and quiet and the constant deluge of feminist "internet discourse" was giving me anxiety. Everything written about the Switch made me angry. It was either too restrictive, too conservative, or too pushy. All the people I used to respect and follow wrote things that implied a non-binary approach to the Switch was best, but anything that felt even slightly masculine I wanted nothing to do with. A bottle of wine in and Sam finally started checking me out. "Do you like this dress?" I asked. "Yeah, it looks amazing on you. Are you wearing one of those things under it, a corset?" "No... just the usual: panties and a bra, that kind of thing." "Oh, it's just, wow, your waist is so thin. You hit the genetic jackpot." "Yeah, I guess," I said picking at my salad entree. I'd developed a striking absence of appetite, and I didn't want to think that I was becoming anorexic, but I found myself staring in the bathroom mirror and seeing a lot of problems. I would think about how every bite of food I ate would make my gigantic boobs bigger, or my belly would start sticking out for my boobs to flabbily bounce against, or the sexy gap between my thighs would disappear. During one especially dark time went almost two whole days without eating food. I tried not to think about it. The idea of me falling into regressive and toxic thoughts about my body was embarrassing and painful. "I love my body, end of story" was the mantra I said out loud to myself, whether it was true or not. "You're sober enough to drive, right? I am drunk," Sam said. I nodded and thought, "oh, maybe I'll get to ride his cock again." The best sex I had over this time was, beyond a doubt, after one of our "gender dates." We'd had a little too much to drink and made out in the back of the Uber on the way home. Then, instead of making it to bed, I just pulled my dress up and rode Sam with my back to him on the couch. Maybe it was the wine, but he stayed hard for around fifteen minutes while I watched myself get fucked in the reflection of the TV screen. The angle was like heaven. I felt guilty later thinking that I would have loved getting fucked like that no matter who's cock I was sitting on and even wished it had been bigger. The guilt of those thoughts kept me awake at night with Sam, my husband who I loved, sleeping soundly beside me. I helped myself relax by thinking that at least I'd become very accustomed to the title of "wife," and was a good wife to Sam, despite the law currently stating otherwise. I also enjoyed putting a towel on the bed and spending a good two hours or so building up to an intense orgasm while masturbating. It was easy to do if I thought about amazing reverse cowgirl sex. I was never getting fucked by Sam when I fantasized, but someone faceless and impossibly large, like a giant. I considered buying a dildo, but the guilt and internal conflict about enjoying sex more without my husband was getting to me, so I chickened out. "Check please," I said the next time the waiter came by. Sam passed out in the car on the way back, then he stumbled into bed fully clothed when we got home. Before I undressed and did my nightly grooming, I thought about how I could go to a bar tonight in this outfit and leave with the hottest guy there, no problem. He'd probably be a little confused about why this porn star was acting like a sex-starved freak, begging to get laid and worshipping his cock. "Hmm," I said out loud while taking off my heels, the only evidence that this loving wife had let the thought cross her mind. ~ [I Follow Rivers by Eklipse (Lykke Li)] "Third time's the charm," I thought as I rang the buzzer on an iron gate at the end of a driveway. The amount of money in this fancy Beverly Hills neighborhood was deeply intimidating. This was the third interview I'd had set up for me by Mr. Walker this week, but it was actually the first person who'd asked my boss to meet with me: the award-winning incest-ey movie director and Switch documentarian, Ben Hale. He was just out of town, apparently getting ready to shoot a new movie in Hawaii where he lived. This was just one of his houses. I checked myself in the rearview mirror of the SUV I was using. A doctor had confirmed that I had Distichiasis, a genetic anomaly where someone has double the amount of eyelashes. Apparently Elizabeth Taylor was famous for it along with some guy on Lost, but I'd never seen anything with them in it so I had no idea about it. It meant I didn't have to go overboard on the eye makeup and still have striking eyes. Another recessive gene I'd developed was a striking dark limbal ring around my bright amber pupils. If there was one thing about my new body I loved other than my hair, it was my eyes. I was dressing up for this: an expensive fitted white shirt, tight burgundy blazer, and a black pencil skirt, pantyhose, and black heels. The gate slowly swung open without anyone talking to me through the speaker, and I drove up. The house looked modest but well-manicured from the front and I parked near the door behind a very large black Escalade. "He likes big SUVs," I rolled my eyes with a smirk, then felt a little hypocritical driving around in one myself. I'd just finished listening to a Joe Rogan podcast interview with Hale, as distasteful as I found Rogan, at least the interview was in-depth. Hale had a surprisingly progressive and well-developed view on the Switch, which was good to hear. He was articulate about the gender issues involved without using too many buzzwords or being too academic. I felt like I could actually learn something from him about my own disease. Most people had disappointed me when it came to talking about the Switch, particularly my other recent interview experiences. During my first personal assistant interview with a film producer, I'd been asked questions about "switchgirls" to confirm some pretty ugly stereotypes about promiscuity. Despite trying to take the questions with good humor, I didn't get that job or the one after. The second failed interview, I found out later from Mr. Walker through Brian, the actress's wife had vetoed me and it was implied that similar stereotypes had played a role. Though I resisted vocally conceding the point, I guess that some of these stereotypes were based on a little bit of truth. Everyone who got the Switch was experiencing new desires and hormones, along with a clean break with an old identity. It added up to this somewhat unmoored free-feeling about sex and gender, and for men changing into women, they hadn't been socialized their whole lives to worry about being "slutty." I wasn't quite as free since I was married, or at least I would be after our nullification period ended. My own way of dealing with these new feelings was so private that not only could I not say them out loud. If someone could peer inside my head, they'd also probably think, "typical sex-craved switchgirl." I thought about the fitted shirt straining a little around my bust, inching perilously close to the steering wheel, and wondered what my new identity was. What would the Bearded Hubby have thought seeing Switched Spencer interviewing for a job? Was I just a walking pair of huge boobs? I shook my head and tried to bring myself back to the moment. "Okay, interview." I'd learned that Hale's last name was pronounced "Hay-leh" which I didn't expect, so at least I wouldn't screw that up. I also found out he has ancestry all over the place: Caucasian-American, Native Hawaiian, Japanese, and English, and he suspected that there was also had some Tanzanian, but hadn't confirmed it genealogically. He was a multi- millionaire, weight-lifter, Jiu-Jitsu black belt, award-winning filmmaker, and had just invested in a whiskey distillery along with the film star Levi Gardner. Before I could knock on his door, he opened it. Ben Hale was a couple shades darker than white, clean shaven, towered over me in height, a veritable wall of muscle. He flashed a big smile full of white teeth and said, "Hey! Spencer! Come on in, great to finally meet you," and turned to walk into the house leaving me at the door. I followed, seeing a vast open floor plan of a house with most of the living room surrounded by glass walls looking out on an infinity pool and an amazing view of downtown L.A. The clacks of my heels echoed against the hardwood floors and stucco walls as I tried catching up with him. "Mr. Hale, thank you fo-" "'Ben!' Call me 'Ben.' Here have a seat," he interrupted slumping into a large and comfortable looking chair in his living room. I found my way towards a seat on a sectional couch nearby and sat down sinking awkwardly into it. I tried fixing my posture but I was just too top-heavy and struggled. "Just make yourself at home. Whiskey?" He offered a glass before pouring himself one. I shook my head. He was wearing a white tank-top and tightly fitted athleisure black pants. Based on the interview, Hale had actually made his fortune not in film or music videos, but in foreign merchandising rights for a few lines of clothing I'd never heard of in the late 90s and 2000s. He was extremely muscular with almost no body fat. He swung one leg over the arm of the chair, flicked back some of his curly, dark, neck-length hair, and sipped some whiskey. "You know I'm making a documentary about the Switch, right? I was going to interview you and your husband for it. Sorry that didn't work out, but to be honest, I have a lot on my plate right now anyway." I nodded. I never heard another word about that after we told Mr. Walker to decline it. "Kurt and I go way back so he put you on my radar. I watched some of your YouTube channel, interesting stuff." He gave a thoughtful expression. "Oh, thanks. That feels like such a long time ag-" "I didn't agree with a lot of it though. I just fuck who I want to fuck, and who wants me to fuck them, try not to worry too much about it. A lot of your advice seemed very... cerebral to me. When I'm being intimate with someone, I don't want to be overthinking things. Just go with the flow, y'know." "I... yeah," I stammered, noticing that at least one piece of art hanging on his wall was of a somewhat abstract nude woman. It looked a little like Vera Cordero, the star of his Oscar-nominated movie, "Hidden Rooms." I'd finally watched it and the incest was mostly handled off-screen except for this one scene with the two leads having a quickie in a closet at a wake. It was actually pretty hot. He continued, "Do you feel like you overthink things? Did the Switch change your thinking process? Sorry, I know this is for a job and not a documentary, I sometimes speak before I think." He didn't continue and I wasn't sure if he wanted me to reply or if his correction was going to be the final word. I gave a thoughtful express and muttered "Uhh..." I wasn't sure what to say or how to answer those questions. He laughed, "that might be an answer itself! Sorry I guess I'm just too old, forty-four next month. Sometimes I get in a mode where I like deep questions. I forget it's not shit people usually like talking about the first time they meet. Or during job interviews. Hah." I was quiet for a second and thought, "actually, I could probably talk for hours about my thoughts on the Switch right now," but kept quiet. Talking to this man about things I've never told my husband would feel like cheating, since a lot of those thoughts were about sex. Also, shockingly inappropriate for a job interview, but he was still lightyears beyond Walker. Maybe this was a Hollywood thing. "Is that Vera Cordero?" I asked, looking at the painting. "Yep. She gave me that after our first film together, Detention." He looked up at it and said, "It's a Maxwell Fraiche. He painted it for her and she hated it, so she gave it to me. She'll never step foot in this house because of it!" He laughed. "Heh, wow," was all I could say. This conversation was surreal to me. I struggled to maintain my posture, but was glad for the back and core exercises I'd been doing or I might be in even worse shape. Hale clearly worked out constantly. "You really don't look forty-four," I said, not knowing why. Maybe just to say something nice. "Thank you. It's just genetics I think. No special secret." He flashed a big toothy white grin. He was obviously a very successful businessman and dedicated artist, but occasionally when he smiled really big with his curly hair, he looked very boyish. To be honest, he looked like the type of boy who might have bullied me when I was in grade school. Other than occasional push-ups and some hiking, I wasn't very active as a guy. I was doing far more now trying to look and feel good as a woman. Hale interrupted my thoughts barking, "Spencer, come work for me. I need an assistant. I need someone who can manage an Instagram page and tell people I'm busy. I'm a people-pleaser, so anytime someone calls me I like saying 'yes,' so I need someone to tell people 'no.' Can you do that?" Relieved to get the job I immediately said, "Yes, I can do that." I then realized that I didn't actually have a great track record with saying "no." I would have to learn on the job. "I'll give you twice what you're making under Kurt, can you start right away?" He tossed over an envelope. "First month's pay in advance and there are some tickets to Hawaii in there for three days from now." "Hawaii?" I squawked, trying and failing to keep cool. Three days was pretty immediate, but I wanted to do this. "I... okay. Let me talk to my husband before accepting. Are you... are you sure you don't have any other questions for me?" He shook his head. "Nope. I read your resume, I think you're a good fit. I promote casual dress, but I'll leave it up to you about the wardrobe. If you accept I'll give you access to my calendar, I've got some parties lined up I want you to plan and manage. I have a personal chef when I'm here in the Cali, but I'll be relying on you for everything in Black Point. She doesn't fly." I nodded. This was all well within my wheelhouse based on what I'd learned from Brian. "That sounds good," I added and suddenly realized that Hale had kept eye contact with me the whole time, not once checking me out, even when I was awkwardly trying to sit up bouncing my tits everywhere. I guess he was kind of a gentleman? We chatted about benefits and expectations for about half an hour afterwards. It was a lot of money and the benefits sounded great. He was going to be shooting in Hawaii for at least three months, a thriller about a hotel maid who was raised in an assassin family who's kidnapped and takes revenge on her captors, starring Vera Cordero. I'd heard about it on the podcast interview. It was their third film together. He started walking me out but we ended up having another conversation in the kitchen near the front door. "If you accept, bring a swimsuit with you to my place in Black Point. Housesitting can get boring and I have a private pool. I'm surprised you don't have poolside pics on your Insta, actually. It's cool to buck the trends I guess." "I uhh... yeah." What the hell was he talking about? He shook my hand and showed me the door. "By the way, it's just me you have to worry about. No kids, no wife, no close family, really. Kurt needs a full-time staff but I'm a little more relaxed. The thing about me is that I'm kind of unpredictable. Sorry-not- sorry in advance, Moore." He waved at me and shut the door. I heard heavy metal start playing really loud before I could close the door to the SUV as I sent Sam a text saying I got an offer. I didn't even have an Instagram account, so I had no idea what Hale was talking about. Other than the occasional dinner plate picture Sam showed me, I hadn't looked at his Insta, so I brought it up on my phone. I paled as I scrolled through dozens of photos, some of our home, some of Sam, but mostly of me and my gigantic boobs. No wonder he'd crossed the 50k subscriber mark in no time. I felt sick. I remembered him taking some of these, but I didn't specifically recall being okay with putting them online. Had I given him carte blanche at some point? Oh fuck, what if I did? I wasn't sure. What on earth made him think this was okay? That I would be okay with this? "That fucking asshole!" I screamed in the car. The writing all seemed vague enough so that you couldn't tell if it was me typing or someone else. One of them showed me laying on the couch in my panties and a crop top. You could see all of my ass, the vague outline of labia, and even some underboob. It had more than five times more likes than there were subscribers and the top comment was "beautiful body baby girl" by a guy in Argentina, followed by "badonkadonk," then a guy who'd tagged a couple of his friends and just put the hashtag "#breedingmaterial." "What the fuck!!!!" I yelled as loud as I could to no one. ~ [Paint It Black by The Hampton String Quartet (The Rolling Stones)] Sitting at the kitchen table with a lump in my throat, I waited for Sam to get home to confront him. I'd gone to the doctor's office after that interview only to be told that I was at high risk for all kinds of cancers. Breast cancer, uterine cancer, ovarian cancer, it was all very terrifying. They told me to get regular check-ups and gave me a laundry list of types of preventative care and recommended that I get on a long-term birth control that removed periods. Alternatively, they recommended that if I was going to have kids, to do so soon as studies have shown pregnancy in early-life can be preventative. Some of the google searching I did to check suggested otherwise, but I tended to trust doctors over google searches. The whole time I was thinking, "there is no way I can talk to Sam about any of this." It wasn't just about the kids thing, I just didn't trust him anymore. Did I even love him? The more I thought about him, the more I loathed him. I put my head in my hands and thought about all the things I'd wanted to say but couldn't. Was it all my fault or was it his too? I was about to burst and the roller-coaster of a day wasn't helping. I looked up as I heard Sam turn the keys to the front door. It was almost 8:00 pm. He walked into the kitchen and gave me a look as he put his keys on the counter. I winced expecting him to try and touch me, but I guess he felt the tension in the air and fought the urge. "What's up?" He asked. I took a deep breath, "Sam, what the hell were you thinking posting all of these pictures of me on Instagram?" "What? It's no big deal, come on. You said I could post pics," he scoffed and sat down. "I didn't say you could post pictures of me practically naked!" I said, showing him the one of me in the panties. "Okay yeah, that one is a little extra, I'll take it down, I'm sorry." He started fumbling with his phone, deleting things. "Take them all down. All of them. I shouldn't even have to ask." "Fine! I'll fucking take them all down! You know, I never pitched a fit when you posted pictures of me in a bikini on Facebook!" "Those were our fucking honeymoon pictures! We were at the beach! And you should have said something, goddammit!" "Whatever. You know the reason you didn't care? Because my tits weren't huge. Yours are huge so everything you wear you look like a fucking slut in." I stood up from the chair, shaking, "what the fuck? What the fuck did you just say to me?" He closed his eyes and said, "I'm sorry, that was shitty. I'm just fucking pissed okay. You know how bad I wanted to get that Instagram page going, and it's doing really well." "Well sorry, I'm just too much of a dumb slut to understand." Sam laughed and gave me a look like he was holding back. "What? What do you want to say?" I folded my arms. "You know, you act all high and mighty, you and your 'male feminist' YouTube channel, but you turn into a girl and boom, always begging for sex. Constantly. You are a total slut. It's gross." He was red in the face mad. I gulped, "oh, yeah? Well let's take a break. From sex, from this shitty relationship, the whole thing. You know I've faked every orgasm I've had with you, right? You are terrible in bed." My jaw and hand were shaking so hard that almost failed trying to drink some water. I wanted to hurt his feelings. "Well that's a lie, but whatever. Yeah fine, let's take a break. This is such bullshit." Sam walked out of the kitchen. "F.Y.I. I took a job with Ben Hale and I'm going to Hawaii in a few days." "Great. Whatever," I heard from the other room. "It is great," I responded. Sam sneered, "I'm gonna grab a few things and stay over at Mike's place. You know, the guy you used to get so jealous of all the time in that ugly, toxic way that I never confronted you about because I loved you and gave you the benefit of the doubt." I rolled my eyes, "fine." He walked around me and headed back towards the front door with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He turned around and gave me a look like he wanted the last word. I just stared at him, waiting, want him to be gone. He opened the front door and paused, then looked at me and said, "you promised you wouldn't change, but you're not the same Spencer I married. Not anywhere fucking close." then slammed the door behind him. I unconsciously clenched my jaw. About six seconds later I heard our car turn on, which was in his name to be fair, and listened to him drive off. The house suddenly seemed so strangely quiet. Still shaky, I walked like a zombie to the bedroom and took off my interview clothes, put on a nightgown, and just fell down on the floor for a few hours bawling, then moved to the bed and cried some more until I fell asleep. ~ Part Two: Honolulu, Hawaii. ~ [All The Stars by Vitamin String Quartet (Kendrick Lamar, RZA) In between imagining the retorts and comebacks I could have used in my argument with Sam, I got lost watching the Pacific from my First Class seat. Hale was still going to fly over when he said I would, and just bought me another ticket with an earlier departure like it was nothing. The new plan was that I would fly in, get acquainted with the area and his house on my own, then figure out food and entertainment for a group of thirty to fifty people in a few days. This was small potatoes compared to some of the parties Walker had, but those had a lot more lead-up time. Traveling with gigantic breasts was an ordeal. Stares and whispers abounded as I waited for my flight, and a mother with smiling eyes decidedly sat down beside me to do some nursing, clearly thinking I was a kindred matronly spirit. The woman let me hold the baby and I had to admit having a strange surge of feelings, almost moved to tears, as it reached blindly around my breasts for sustenance. I recalled the doctors recommending that if I have children to do so now, and wondered if I'd be holding my own baby any time soon. The idea had managed to burrow itself deep into my brain. Jostling to get to my seat in the plane made me feel imbalanced and laden with more carry-on baggage than anyone else had to worry about. Embarrassingly, I didn't have enough strength to put my luggage in the overhead compartment and surely got stares as I jiggled and bounced trying before someone offered to help. I ignored a flirtatious "hey," from a passenger across the aisle, followed by a snorting "all right then," when he got the message. I didn't owe questions like that a smile or a reply and having both headphones in blasting Eklipse meant that I had no idea if he tried bothering me again. As we approached the islands, I was mesmerized by the awe-inspiring, and somewhat alien, Diamondhead crater. The view was incredible, and I knew enough about the location by now to know that Hale's house was at the foot of it towards the shore. He lived in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods on the island, Black Point. Based on the address and a google search, Hale must have bought the place about ten years ago for millions. Stepping out of the airport trailing my modest luggage and a constant warble of "mahalo!" behind me, I immediately recognized that jeans would be out of the question here. I was already uncomfortably warm and looking with extreme jealousy at the women, both tourists and locals, wearing various types of loose and breezy dresses. I had to do something about this. At least I bought some powerful sunscreen and nice sunglasses. I rented a white SUV and looked for some clothing shops between the airport and the house, finding a small strip mall nearby that was still open. One of them had a review that emphasized their swimwear collection saying, "truly all sizes!!" I needed that. Despite the frustrating stop and go traffic coming out of the airport, I was impressed by how colorful and unique all the locations looked despite also being obviously touristy. I felt a pang of guilt because of my lack of interest in all the amazing looking restaurants. I'd gone all day and only eaten a small salad on the plane. The strip mall I stopped by only had a few cars parked in it, and could have only been employees. I wanted to get out of my jeans, so my first stop was a spot called Oahu Clothing which had a lot of racks outside the front doors. I started with those and worked my way in without any of the sales people paying any attention to me. I took note of the store's house and realized I had plenty of time, so there was no rush. The first thing I noticed is that nothing here would have worked for the "gender dates" dresses, both of which were sheath dresses with a high scoop neck. Looking back, I'd been buying those to "look nice," and please Sam and also hide my bust. I wasn't interested in two thirds of that anymore. I just wanted something breezy where my tits wouldn't be hanging out. I tried on a lot and nixxed about two thirds of them based on the low neckline alone, then a bunch of others lost me from being too awkward on my bust. I ended up buying four dresses. My favorite was a purple jersey knit wrap dress that was extremely comfortable but made my boobs look huge. Its saving grace was that it had a very high V neckline and it had enough fabric around the bust to fit the best of anything I tried on. It was also nice and snug around my waist and butt. I also bought some sandals, a pair of distressed low-rise jean shorts and a cream-colored loose-fitting cropped blouse, which I wore out. I shoved everything into the back seat, breathing a sigh of relief from the shorts and blouse, smiling as the breeze hit my midriff and the sweat that had accumulated or had soaked into my bra, which, after the long plane ride, I was looking forward to taking off someday. I locked the SUV and noticed a number of homeless were living or at least loitering behind the strip mall, a sight I was used to from living in L.A. but I think a little part of me had hoped this island paradise would leave people better situated. "Pretty naive," I thought, and headed into Ma's Bikinis. Ma's was much smaller than the clothing store next door, but was clearly well-stocked, and I was immediately greeted by a middle-aged Asian woman caked in makeup behind a small counter with "mahalo!" She had a slight accent. "Can I help you?" she asked. I almost replied "no," but then looked around and realized I had no idea what to get. The idea of buying a bathing suit filled me with anxiety, especially since in a way, it was going to be work-related. Hale had actually told me to buy one for the trip and I hadn't bothered. All I could think about right now was taking a dip in a pool because of the heat, and for that I would need swimwear help. "Yes, please. I've never bought a swimsuit before." "Oh! Well good luck for you, we have a buy two get one free sale right now on anything in the store. What are you looking for?" She walked around the desk to get a better look at me. "Something conservative, I guess." "Oh okay. Hmm, you have very, very large breasts and a tiny waist, nice butt" she said making curvy hand motions, partially to size me up and also to put me at ease. I didn't argue with her assessment. "I have some underwire suits you'll like and a very conservative sort of sporty zip-up one-piece suit." She started looking around and grabbing things very efficiently. "My daughter has a similar build as you, though she's got big shoulders and a big bottom," she laughed. "I try to keep stock for all the ladies, you know. All sizes." "Thank you," I said earnestly. "Heh! No problem. Here try on these and then you say 'conservative' but try on some nice string ones too because you have a nice body, it will look good," she said while ushering me into a changing area. I felt like I couldn't really argue with her since I was asking for help. A blue-patterned two piece that did a great job of holding my boobs in place and covered a lot of skin was a sure buy, especially if I was swimming at my boss's house. Out of the two zip-up one pieces, I chose the one that had the bikini bottom instead of the capri cut. It felt strange trying these on and thinking that it was okay to be in public with them on. It was really just a thin piece of fabric covering a normally private area, all but fully exposed. "Did you try on the string one? Does it fit?" "No, I have two that should be good." "Buy two, get one free. Try on that string one and let me see. If it doesn't fit I can find another." She was a little pushy but at least I knew it wasn't to make a sale since she was trying to help me pick out a free one. I tried on the gray string bikini with a designer symbol on it. The scrunch bottom looked good, but the top wasn't large enough to cover my areolas. I opened the door to the changing room to let her see and frowned while trying to adjust the top for more coverage. "Oh, yes, I see. One second," she skipped off and came back a second or two later with a navy blue one and said, "here try this." I closed the door and tried on the new bikini. The scrunch bottom fit the same, but the top was large enough to cover my areolas. Like the first, it offered zero support. I was about to let the woman know that I didn't want it, but then discovered that it was kind of nice to just let my breasts hang free. "I bet this would have gotten Sam's attention," I thought. The fabric on the top was thick enough to hide my nipples, which were hard for some reason. I also liked that the bikini fit just well enough so that the true shape of my breasts was on display, as if I was completely nude but with just the right amount of concealment to keep me from having the cops called. I changed back into my clothes and thanked the woman, it turned out she was the store's namesake "Ma," buying two and getting the string bikini free. After stopping in the ABC store for some rum, I drove off. The houses didn't look impressive from the street in the Black Point neighborhood, but I knew that their ocean-facing sides were where the money was at. Hale's home faced the road with a front door but had a driveway that dipped down from the road and curved slightly into a large covered garage, very modern in style. This was where I parked my SUV and went in to explore. I immediately recognized a similar aesthetic to his home in L.A. with a wide open floor plan and similar furniture. "He probably used the same interior designer," I thought. This place was slightly larger and it looked like three stories on the ocean-facing side. The pool was indoors and outdoors with an archway that was currently open but could be closed. There was a note on the pool door saying it had been cleaned today along with an invoice for the next six months of services. "Time to start working," I said out loud to myself and grabbed the invoice and walked out onto the infinity pool removing my sunglasses taking in the view of the Pacific. It was amazing, like I could see out forever. Six bedrooms and seven and a half baths, huge kitchen, workout room, and more covering about 16 thousand square feet was a lot to take in. My bedroom, per the outline I'd been given, was in the room directly over the kitchen on a corner with a view of the ocean and the street. It was decorated just as well as the rest of the house with modern looking paintings, large windows, white sheets and bedspreads, and reclaimed wood furniture. The master bedroom was to be kept locked, but I had a key and checked it out. It was on a corner overlooking the ocean with Diamondhead well in view. There were large mirrors on the walls and ceiling, and a bed that looked larger than any I'd ever seen. "He's a sex mirrors guy," I said out loud, shrugging. I thought back to the greatest sex of my life seeing my reflection in the TV and thought, "I guess we have at least one thing in common." There was a giant TV on the wall and a recessed area in the ceiling with a camera. I sighed. No judgement as long as he was getting people's consent. The camera was very obvious so at least he wasn't trying to hide it. The master bathroom had a jacuzzi in it and a two-person shower. I locked the door to his bedroom and got back to work thinking, "stereotypes about rich bachelor pads are all confirmed true as of now." After moving all of my stuff in, I grabbed the string bikini and smeared on sunscreen before jumping in the pool. Swimming along with my long free- flowing hair, I felt something like peace and at least for now, I wasn't sick with anger at Sam. "This was a new beginning," I thought. I felt grateful to Ben and Mr. Walker for this job, to Ma for talking me into this string bikini, and grateful to the privacy fence on either side of the pool to avoid prying eyes. For now, it felt good to be alone in paradise. ~ [New Slang by Vitamin String Quartet (The Shins)] "So we'll stage everything from your van, then set up a table near the door beside the veranda, a bartender by the pool and another near the kitchen?" The congenial caterer, Edina, nodded as we finalized our plan for the big Luau party, they were going to provide the bartenders, tableware, signage, and food. I'd already met with the entertainment company hiring hula dancers and flower lei greeters for the front door, but had nixxed the fire dancers. I just didn't want to have to worry about any more fire than I was already bringing. Invitations had been sent, a Facebook private party had been created, and I was documenting the setup for Hale's Insta multi-image story I was planning to interview him for after the event, part of which would go out on Snapchat and TikTok. I had some scripted words ready for him in case he wanted to use them. This was a celebration that he'd started shooting a new movie, after all. It would probably get picked up by the news. Might as well have something on hand in case he's too drunk. I had tables, extra chairs, and outdoor lighting being delivered the morning of the event, which looked like a decent match with most of the furniture. From the same people, I rented a large tent to put outside near the pool in case it rained, which it wasn't even currently calling for. I had the house-cleaning service bring in more trash cans and remind them that we'd need clean-up the next morning. I'd scheduled an electrician to come by later to consult and make sure we weren't going to blow any fuses or short circuit anything with all the party materials. The prices due to the relatively last minute reservations were exorbitant, but what could I do. The event was in about 72 hours. I had absolutely no idea what I would have done if I'd come to Hawaii when Hale originally asked me to. I would be cooking food and DJing for everyone myself, I guess. I ordered barf-bags, inhalers, extra medical kits, coffee, insulin shots, eye-drops, and lots of other "worst case scenario" items to put in a crate near the den. I also purchased some extra clothing, bedding, and towels in case we had surprise guests or in case it was needed for other reasons. You never know. At least one person soiled themselves at one of Walker's parties in the short time I was there. I added a few more things to my "to-do list" thinking about the soiling incident, when the doorbell rang. Expecting the DJ, who'd texted he be here "around sunset," I opened the door. "Ms. Moore?" said the man, tanned skin with a trim black beard. He was in his late 20s or early 30s and had piercing blue eyes. I immediately broke eye contact and said, "come in. Are you Travis?" With my back towards him I made a "wow" expression. He was extremely attractive. I heard the door close behind me along with a, "yeah, Travis. DJ Moco Loco. Master of Ceremonies, whatever you need," as he rounded the countertop island in the kitchen and sat at the bar. I made eye contact and found myself smiling, "oh, good!" I said. Probably smiling too much. "Are you okay?" he asked, also smiling. "Yes, yeah. Just... thank you for meeting with me on late notice," I couldn't stop smiling but at least I could get back into work-mode. "Thank you for meeting me on such late notice," was how I'd started almost every conversation I had today. "No problem," he continued making extended eye contact. "I do a lot of Luau type parties, and I'm a big fan of Hale's. I love working here in Black Point." Watching him talk, I could feel myself blushing and was glad the wrap dress didn't have a low enough neck to show my breasts getting red as well. He was just so good looking, his lips, his eyes, his smooth skin, and dimples when he smiled or talked. He was a little taller than me and in really good shape. "Um, one second," I said and turned around to get the itinerary, pay rate, and responsibilities to go over it with him. I caught a really quick flash of him looking at my boobs as I came back. "Here take a look at this, what do you think?" I watched him reading it and glanced at his body. I could see abs beneath his polo shirt and there was a bulge shifting around that I couldn't help but let my imagination run wild about. When he looked up from the itinerary I was making eye contact though. Not as easily caught as he was. "This all looks good. I've never worked with you before, are you new around here?" "I'm new, yeah. Just landed in Hawaii yesterday," I said, pushing some of my hair back behind my ears with a nervous fidget. "I wish everybody I worked with was half as prepared as you." I started smiling and then nervously laughing when he said this, and then he also smiled a little and laughed a little. I felt like a dumb schoolgirl and the sheet I'd printed for him fell off the table, I quickly jerked to the ground, forgetting that I have massive breasts that bounced wildly when I popped back up with it. One of the bar stools scraped against the floor from my right tit hitting it hard enough to move it. His eyes went wide as he stared at my chest, but he tried to play it off, "oh wow, good catch thanks, so... how long have you been in Hawaii? Oh right, you said you got here yesterday. What all have you done?" I energetically replied, "oh, nothing much. It's been kinda crazy planning this event." I was already nervous and embarrassed, so the embarrassing boob moment didn't affect me too much. "Yeah, I can imagine." We smiled at each other. There was a long pause and I kinda got a little lost looking at him waiting for him to speak. He was so good-looking that I had a hard time imagining what I would do with him in bed if I had him. As if reading my mind he interrupted the awkward silence with, "um, so if you're going to be around for awhile I can show you some stuff on the island. Maybe avoid some of the worst tourist traps. Do you hike?" "Yeah," I said, just wanting to affirm what he was saying, "I mean, yeah, I want you to show me around. I don't really hike, no." The idea of hiking in this body seemed like a concept I wasn't prepared for, though I did want to eventually do some light hiking on the island. He smiled. "Well, I can show you around. I'll text you with some ideas between now and the party." I nodded. "Okay. Looking forward to it." He started moving towards the door and I started to think of an excuse to get him to stay, but decided against it. "Ah, okay. Well, I'll head out then. Can I keep this?" He held up the itinerary. "Yeah. Oh yeah, sign that copy and take this other one," I said grabbing a folder. I'd completely forgotten to have him sign a contract. He was making me loopy. The hot DJ walked up to the counter where I was standing, put the paper down, and took the pen out of my hand. I could smell him, a man's body odor and a little bit of coconut. I almost instinctively squeezed my breast erotically, but luckily stopped myself and let it brush up against a barstool instead. What was wrong with me? His face was only about a foot and a half away when he said, "thank you, Ms. Moore." He shook my hand, engulfing it. "Call me Spencer," I responded. He said, "and I'm Travis." He released my hand and then walked out, shutting the door behind him. I watched him get into his car from the door, admiring his firm butt. Sam never came within a million miles of making me as nervous as he did. Travis was so fucking sexy. I put on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, crawled onto the couch and four hours went by without me realizing it while I internet stalked his DJ Moco Loco persona. It looked like he had a girlfriend at least a few months ago, but couldn't tell if he still did. Her name was Tina and she was kind of busty, but nowhere near my league. I thought that he was packing more than Sam from a swim trunks picture, but still couldn't really tell. It was all I could do not to text him, but I controlled myself. At some point I started drinking directly from a bottle of rum I'd chilled in the freezer and remembered that for another day I'd "forgotten" to eat. I let my drunken fantasies run wild. I thought about Travis calling me his girlfriend, making out with him on the beach, him proposing to me, our wedding, and what our kids would look like. He was so pretty that it was hard to imagine sex with him, but I finally hit on a good scene: it's our wedding night, it's dark in the bedroom, but there's enough moonlight so that he can see me in my nightgown. I hear him say, "damn, I want to fuck you," as he pushed me on the bed to screw me. Stumbling drunk and paranoid that someone might randomly show up, I locked the door to my room, closed the blinds, took off my clothes, put down a towel, and masturbated that night thinking about Travis screwing me reverse cowgirl. In my imagined scenario he was a foot taller, had a huge cock, and fucked me so hard I it made me scream for mercy. I finished in a lake of sweat. Next time I'll need two towels. ~ [Titanium by Eklipse (David Guetta)] I woke up to the sun, a massive hangover, and three texts. Ben Hale (boss): "I'll be in tomorrow evening sometime" along with flight details. Sammy Sam: "wow, fuck you to" was a reply to a text I don't remember sending consisting of "fuck you sam" Travis, DJ: "Aloha Tower, Iolani Palace, Pearl Harbor" was a reply to a text I don't remember sending consisting of "hey Search Travis what are the cheese tourist places?" I had no idea what "hey Search" was, maybe an autocorrect of something. "Hey sexy Travis"? I had no clue. I vaguely recall taking some selfies too, but it looks like I didn't send them. I looked in my photos and sure enough, there were a bunch of me squeezing my tits on the bed, some of my crotch, mostly out of focus, some with a thumb partially over the camera. I deleted them and moaned. I pulled myself out of bed and said out loud, "thank fuck I have an open calendar today." Still a little groggy I said, "Hellooooo" at the top of the stairs, just to see if anyone was there. There was no reply. "Safe," I said out loud, then clumsily walked down the stairs nude, letting my breasts bounce against the top of my belly. I hit the kitchen for a few glasses of cold water and kind of remembered that I'd shaved my mound while drunk, but felt it to confirm that I had. I probably drunkenly thought that's what Travis would like. "Smooth," I said, and drank more water. My stomach growled. I needed to eat. I stared into space while leaning over to eat cheese and crackers so I wouldn't get crumbs on my boobs, thinking about what a fucking idiot I was for sending those texts. "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" I yelled to the kitchen floor, and tried to put my head on the counter but just smashed my boobs up under it instead. Finally full from the food, I headed back upstairs to my room and turned on the bathwater, extra warm. I waited until it was full and then tossed in a Lush bath bomb called The Comforter. I put my chin on the side of the tub to watch it fizzle orange, red, and yellow. It smelled like some kind of berries. I slipped into it and immersed myself as best I could, though my tits had a way of finding themselves at least partially out of the water, nipples hardening in the cool air. They looked like big fleshy islands, "Maui on the left, Oahu on the right," I said out loud. "No giant crater though," I traced my finger around the areola of Oahu. I arched my back and then relaxed a few times to give the illusion that the islands were moving in and out of the water. "Oh no, just destroyed that civilization." I thought, "but no, I can create civilizations now. I have the power, fertility." It was an odd thought. I smelled the sizzling berry bath bomb and thought about how I could just create a whole population with enough time and sex. Not that I'd be having any now with that embarrassing drunk text. Oh well, at least I could enjoy these huge things on my own. I cleaned up the tub and thought about doing some sightseeing but stayed in and watched TV instead. I'd never had cable in my life, so I just flicked through channels for awhile, not really paying attention to anything. I got a few texts confirming things for the party, had some groceries delivered, and answered a question here and there. Easy work for a girl with a hangover. I turned off the TV and thought about hitting the pool. I couldn't get enough water today. I looked at the stacked babe in the mirror putting the string bikini back on and thought about the old me, Spencer Moore "The Bearded Hubby." It felt like another lifetime ago, another person completely. Not once had I ever jerked off thinking about being impaled by a man sexually as a guy. The Bearded Hubby never imagined a honeymoon with a guy and what their kids might look like. I put on sunscreen and jumped in the pool. My hangover receding, I found myself lost in thought again as I swam, a list of thoughts for a long day of thoughts: the Switch had been a blessing, as the thought of being a guy again disgusted me; it wasn't just Sam, I was a deeply sexual person; I used to hate my tits, but I was starting to love them; I was also seriously considering never wearing a bra again; I wasn't really worried about Travis, because I could tell he wanted to fuck me and that text wasn't bad enough to change that; Sam had maybe a single chance in hell of getting me back at this point, but even that was doubtful; I loved my hair; & my top had come loose in the back. I swam up to the shallow end and stood up, tossing all my hair back and squeezing some of the water out of it by running it through my hands at the back of my neck. As my exposed nipples hardened in the cooling air of the day, I looked out over the ocean, saw some disant boats, and thought, "I wonder if any of them has a telescope," as I slowly pulled my top back around to the front of my body, it having moved around my neck to my back. "Get a good look, telescope owners," I thought. I turned around while adjusting my top to cover my areolas and tied it in the back, then caught my reflection in glass near the archway to the indoor area of the pool and thought, "My tits are amazing," while also noticing that Ben Hale was standing right behind the glass waving at me. I froze. "Spencer! Glad you like the pool," he said, coming outside, not showing any sign of having just seen me completely bare-chested. "Maybe he didn't see," I thought knowing that he probably had. The way he'd come in had a full and clear view of the pool. He sat down in a plastic chair near me wearing black trousers, a black t-shirt, and a Raiders cap. "How was your flight," I asked, conscious of my body being on display even with the bikini on. I dipped down and started treading water. "Oh it was cool. This old lady near me kept 'accidentally' poking me with her knitting needles. Heh, fuck. It's fine though, no biggie. How are you? Everything okay with the party, anything I need to worry about?" He was smiling, but I felt like this was a test. Was I supposed to give him every detail and seek approval or just act cool like I know what I'm doing? I knew the answer without having to think too hard. "We're all good, Ben." He clapped and said, "awesome-sauce," which I would come to find out was a compound slang term that he said a lot. He stood up and said, "oh, by the way, can you make sure I get some grilled salmon tonight. I have been dying for grilled salmon. I could fill up on it." "Sure thing," I replied. I'd actually already scouted a few places with good reps nearby. I swam over to a pool ladder and climbed up, and walked towards the house. Ben was holding the door open for me as I grabbed my towel and dried off some. "Hey Spencer," he said. "Mh? Yeah?" "Don't be embarrassed. For what it's worth, and you might not believe me, but I've actually seen bigger boobs than yours in that very pool." "Ah, fuck," I thought, but said, "ah, okay. Good to know." I walked into the house, cringing with embarrassment.. "..but those weren't real," he said with a nervous chuckle as he closed the door behind me. ~ [Bittersweet Symphony by Dallas String Quartet (The Verve) "I thought you said 'no formal wear'?" I asked Ben. "Yeah, but I changed my mind. You're in charge of this party so I want you to be kind of intimidatingly overdressed. Some of these people are famous and a little obnoxious. If you have to kick someone out, I want you to have some authority." He was sitting on the couch in his living room looking at me, still wearing the same sunglasses he had on yesterday when he arrived. "Eh?" I crossed my arms wearing the breezy asymmetric midi dress that had been thoroughly rejected. "I project plenty of authority," I said pointing at him. "No, not really." He responded with a shrug. I decided to give in. It was just clothes. Besides, I managed the party and he managed me, so this was just right. "Okay," I nodded sharply. "I get it. So what am I wearing?" "I asked our film wardrobe people for a favor, so they're going to fit you with something and they're sending Myra by. Good sport that she is, she'll be here in about half an hour." "Ah, okay." I got back to work setting things up for the party. The furniture people had set up all the extra tables and chairs, but the lighting was up to me and it was going to be a few hours of work at least. Arranging the lighting around the pool, I was reminded of how Ben had seen my exposed breasts the previous day. I also thought about his comment. Some things are just etched into your mind, I guess. I stood up and put my hair into a bun and started having an imaginary conversation with him, "oh, you've seen bigger but they were fake? Great, who cares. Keep your Pornmind opinion to yourself, for fuck's sake. And don't act nervous, you're just a troll. I'm not fooled by the innocent act." But since my boss wasn't actually part of the conversation, he didn't have much to say. "Oh lord, girl. Why are you wearing a tent?" I heard a voice behind me. It was attached to a black woman in a yellow dress, with yellow high heels, and a yellow hat poking her head out of the house. "Come inside, I've got some work to do for you." "Spencer, Myra Whittle. Myra, Spencer Moore," Ben said as I stepped back in the house. Myra said, "how formal are we talking here, Hale? Oscars, cocktails, met opera, she gonna get married, go to the prom, what?" He looked exasperated. "I have no idea, Myra. I want her to be intimidating and hot." He smiled. Myra looked at me for a few seconds then relaxed and said, "oh, this is going to be easy. She's already intimidating and hot." She smiled at me and slowly twirled towards the kitchen, grabbing what looked like ten dresses and a heavy black case. I smiled back, smiled at Ben, and followed her upstairs. She asked where my room was and I walked with her to it. She took a step in, looked around, threw the dresses on the bed and said to close the door. "Okay, let me guess, you've read some bullshit somewhere about how you have to hide your big titties from the world, right?" I didn't know how to respond so I just nodded. "Well that is some bullshit. First, everybody can see you have huge titties, you're not hiding those things from anybody. Second, you should be proud of what god gave you! You don't want to be on your deathbed one day, old as hell, sad sagging titties under your hospital gown, crying, "I wish I'd been more proud of my big perky titties" do you? I shook my head. "Well, I'm here to help. I'm also getting paid, but not by you, and you need to remember that. Hot and intimidating is the order." She told me to strip naked and started measuring me after I did. I felt like I was in a movie scene about getting drafted into the army. "Oof, that is some hourglass girl. Even without those things you'd be a knockout. What did your mama look like?" "Not like this," I replied. Myra laughed. "I caught the Switch a few months ago and had some genetic weirdness." "Oh you poor thing. You know, my cousin got that. Found religion too, strangest thing. Switch, huh? So being a woman is all new to you?" I nodded. "Well I wouldn't have guessed it," she said scouring my bedroom. "I'm surprised myself. It's been a pretty easy transition for me." "Oh, were you transgender before?" "No, at least I don't think so," but my brain interjected that if I was somehow magically a guy again, I would be. "I think I just really prefer being a woman now." She smiled and took a few more measurements, "well, you are... some woman now. That disease is something else." I nodded and started talking nervously, "you know, when I was a guy, I sat down to pee, so the peeing thing was really no change for me." She continued working and said, "is that right?" absentmindedly. I continued, "yeah. I like the same shows still. I thought that if I ever caught the Switch I'd start watching different TV shows." There was a delayed reaction and she said, "well I do like different shows from my husband." "Yeah," I paused. "I'm married, too, you know." "What, you're married? Where's your husband?" "He's in the states. We're technically not married right now though, because the Switch nullifies marriages." I raised my arms so she could continue measuring. "Is that right? Here put this on," she handed me a bunch of red cloth that looked like a dress. I squeezed myself into it and continued talking. "Yeah, we're having a rough patch right now. I'm trying to work it out. Well, actually I'm not. I'm waiting for him to." "Oh honey, he'll come crawling back," she said, adjusting the dress and putting pins in it. "Stand still, please." "I guess. I don't really want him to though. He's turned into a major dick after the Switch." "Oh, he got it too?" "He gave it to me, actually." "Well isn't that fucked up?" She said, taking a step back and looking at me, then coming in closer again to adjust. "Yeah, kinda. But I'm glad." "Umm, so do you want to be married to him?" She said as if she was just now mentally catching up to the conversation. "Ugh, fuck no." She stood up and looked me in the face and said, "then leave him. Don't be a martyr to save the marriage." I cringed. The martyr thing stung. She was right. "Yeah, I should," I nodded. "Maybe I was just destined to be a shitty wife and he was an even shittier husband. I wanted us to be perfect. We were so not." "Do it now and block him for a day or two," she recommended. "How does that look?" She asked, pointing me in the direction of a mirror. The bandage dress hugged my body all the way up to the sweetheart neckline that perfectly fit my bust, allowing me to show a lot of cleavage without looking slutty. There were straps that came over my shoulders and an open back. It's deep pink rose color looked incredibly sexy. She managed to balance everything out just right. "That looks amazing," I said, posing and looking at it from multiple angles. "First time in a tailored dress? Mhm, remember that. Tight and long skirts are a good look for you. I could see peplum or A-line too. I'll have this all ready in a jiffy. I wouldn't recommend doing much labor in this. Save it for the party." I nodded. "I'm going to stitch it up and find some matching heels," she patted me on the shoulder. "There's a place called Waikiki Women's Wear that I recommend, by the way. They have a lot of sizes and relatively quality and quick tailoring. They can be a little expensive, but it'll be a good place to shop while you're here." "Thank you," I said taking off the dress and changing into jean shorts and a blouse. "What do you think of Ben? If I was your age and had your body, I would be all over that," she asked with a smirk while I was changing. I sat down on the bed and said, "I don't think he's my type." She snorted, "what on earth is your type? I like a nice big tall man, myself." I smiled, "I don't know. I guess I prefer cute guys. The lean type." "I hear that," she responded, but I could tell she lost interest if the conversation wasn't about Ben. Ben was good-looking, but the sportswear, muscle-brain, cocky, ageing surfer bro thing did nothing for me. Also, he was my boss. And her boss. I rolled my eyes. She smiled. "I've got a couple of cases of accessories and jewelry you can use in my car. Take your time finding something, just get it back to me whenever." We headed down to her car and as I was fishing through the earrings, bracelets, necklaces, anklets, and other accessories she said, "I'll let you keep a few things if you leave your damn husband, already." I nodded again and picked up my phone to call him. Right now, off like a band-aid. But I couldn't. "I'll call him tomorrow," I said. She scoffed and said, "I'll take your word for it." ~ [The Good Life by Vitamin String Quartet (Weezer)] I spent most of the party completely sober while making the rounds to subtly check to see if anyone needed anything special. I made a few notes on things to do for the next party when I could. I also spent a lot of the night being introduced to guests by Ben. When could I'd hang out by the DJ stand flirting with Travis, despite not being able to talk. The music was too loud. My final outfit was the tight crimson red bandage dress with the strengthened underwire sweetheart top, white lace choker, pearl earrings, pearl white faux patent leather pumps with a gold bottom and a pointy toe. Luckily, it didn't rain. Also, no barf bags or insulin shots were needed, and no one soiled themselves. The wildest things that happened were a few guys jumping into the pool fully clothed. However, the party was mostly guys and I got hit on a lot. A whole lot. Some just asked me for my number and one or two tried to make specific plans, all of whom I declined, but some went close to harassment territory. Three douchebags surrounded me and tried to talk me into showing them my tits. I laughed them off and was luckily able to get away. Another drunk guy took a picture of me while I was bending over to fix a light then joked that he would delete it if I blew him, but then deleted it anyway before I could threaten him. A very well-known celebrity named Levi Gardner hounded me saying he recognized me from porn, wanting to know my stage name. I played it off with a smile, but it sounded like the guy watched a whole lot of porn. He'd been a hot commodity when he was younger, the type that was in all the teen romantic comedies. He was trying to make a comeback as a serious actor now. I barely kept up with Hollywood news and even I knew that. My only starstruck moment was running into Vera Cordero in the kitchen while the party was still going strong. "Do you have some ibuprofen?" she asked as I was trying to find some more small plates. The caterers said the headcount had exceeded what they were expecting and they'd need more before long. My heart skipped a beat. Vera Cordero was one of the biggest stars on the planet. I loved the two Earth Mother superhero movies she starred in, and they'd both made insane amounts of money. I'd seen them a bunch of times. "Sure, one second," I replied looking through a cabinet I'd stocked up on a lot of pain meds and antacids in. Cordero was slim and lean with dark black hair in a pixie cut for the film. She had on a black dress that had large white flowers on it with a plunging neckline that I'd cause road accidents in but she could get away with and not even wear a bra. Her muscles were sharply defined, and I noticed a large tricep as she opened the medicine bottle I handed her. Her face was tastefully covered in makeup and she had on what looked to be expensive gold and jewel encrusted earrings. She was beautiful. She was wearing flats but was still a little taller than me even with my heels. "Thank you," she said downing a few more than the recommended dose. She handed it back to me and sat down on a bar stool. "I don't think anyone saw me come in. It's nice to have a quiet moment." "No problem," I said. "I can get someone to bring you a drink and some food, if you'd like," I said starting to leave the kitchen to give the superstar some space. "No thank you, but wait, come back. You're Spencer, right? Ben's new PA?" she said twisting around towards me. I turned back around, feeling nervous as hell. Earth Mother, defender of the Earth, knew who I was. "Yeah, that's me," I said walking back in. She smiled and said, "this is a pretty good party. The DJ is shit though." "Oh, I uh, okay." "Well, not offensively bad, just boring bad. Just my opinion. Love everything else." "I, well... thank you for saying something. He was the only person I could find at the last minute here." "Oh, that makes sense," she said arching her head to look out at the rest of the party. "As long as everyone's having a good time, I guess." Accepting her criticism, I wanted to turn the conversation around. "I love your Earth Mother movies," I smiled. "I can't wait for the next one." She sighed and said, "thank you. Yeah. Doing those kinds of things gets my agent off my back for working with Ben on his films. This is our third together. He's just so... fun and clever, I guess. How long have you known him?" She poured herself some ice water from a jug nearby. She was a lot more masculine in person than any of her characters were. "Not too long, a few days really." "Well, he speaks highly of you already," I noticed a flash of something on her face, a sort of distracted look. Then, suddenly, "You had the Switch, right?" "Uh, yeah. Little over two months ago," I replied. I felt a little calmer now. It was just something about the way she said it, but it made me remember that she was just another woman. My starstruck feelings subsided. "Why?" "Well, it's something that I typically avoid talking about... but I caught it, too. Long before my acting career. It's not really a secret, but my team and I keep it quiet." "Oh wow, I had no idea." She scoffed, "yeah. It wasn't easy for me. I was in denial for so long, you'd be shocked. 'I'm not a fucking girl,' you know? Ben told me you caught it two months ago and I... well I looked at you and thought, 'Wow, that is a very girly girl,' right? I mean, you're very feminine. Kinda demure. Ultra-femme." I wasn't used to being talked about like this, so I said, "okay." "Were you transgender before? A transvestite?" "No..." "Like, let me see your hands" she said and I offered them to her. "You see here, you didn't get a professional to do your nails, did you?" I shook my head. "I got up early this morning and did them." "You took care of your cuticles, used just the right amount of nail polish and when coloring your nails, you swirled a little imperfection into them to match the pearl earrings, didn't you?" I looked at them and said, "yeah, I did. I can't believe you noticed that." "I spend a lot of time in makeup trailers. You are this feminine after two months, it's amazing to me. And your bun, tied up perfectly with a trailing crimson ribbon. Most people would probably be okay with just any red one, but not you." "I... no. The dress is crimson so, the bow needed to be too." She nodded and said, "most guys who catch the Switch take forever to figure out that it takes a lot of effort to actually look good. That kind of thing is impossible to teach. It's not about just looking good for a man, it's about pleasing your own eyes, and then socialization is a back and forth thing, so you're pleasing your own eyes and consciously or subconsciously wanting to please everyone else's eyes, and it goes on and on and on. I hated that when I changed. Fucking. Hated. It." I started feeling a little self-conscious. "You do look amazing, Ms. Cordero. I mean, you do tonight, but you're also famous for it." She shrugged, "yeah, I'm paid to look good. There's a lot of money in it.." There was a pause and she continued, "Ben likes details, I'm sure he noticed too. He notices a lot of things but plays dumb, it's infuriating. We had a short fling during the first movie of his I was in. This was before the tabloids cared about me or him. We stayed friends after it ended." I nodded along, "yeah, I've never heard any rumors." I quietly wondered if Ben had video recordings of them together. A Vera Cordero sex tape would set the world on fire. "No, we were discreet. Watch after him, okay. He's weirder and more sensitive than he lets on." I nodded. "I will." She arched an eyebrow at me and said, "Also, I saw you flirting with that DJ. Don't get knocked up or married or anything. He's cute, but trust me, don't waste those truly epic tits of yours on a shitty DJ." I half-smiled and thought, "wow, she's an asshole." I thanked her warmly for the conversation and left her alone in the kitchen to get back to work. I got a shoutout along with the caterers and the DJ from Ben about half an hour later when he got on a mic and thanked everyone for coming to his party. The rest of the short speech was about him looking forward to shooting the movie with them. I noticed the way he palled around with Vera, it was in a familiar but very non-sexual way. You'd never know they dated. I filmed some of his social media videos a little after the speech, while he was still keyed up. At the very end of the party, after I finally allowed myself to have a couple of glasses of wine, I helped Travis getting some of his stuff back to his white Jeep Wrangler. I talked to him about my favorite music, that I'd trained in violin for years and loved string covers of pop songs. I sent him a text with a Spotify playlist I made with Eklipse, Simply Three, VSQ, Feuerbach Quartet, and others on it. I also apologized for the late night text, but he said he thought it was "cute." Before Travis left, while we were standing in the street behind his car, he put his hand behind my neck and kissed me. I kissed him back as he copped a feel. I thought, "his hands are a little bigger than Sam's" and suddenly felt a ton of guilt for doing this before really ending things with my husband. After about ten seconds of kissing the sexiest man I'd ever seen in my life, we pulled away from each other and made plans to go out the day after next. I headed back into the house after he left. It was just me and Ben. Before I headed upstairs to undress, Ben looked up from his phone and said warmly, "you did great tonight." Then before I could say thank you, "...and he's a very good looking guy." I smiled and nodded, then escaped. Afterwards, I tried and failed to go to sleep. I was up until dawn with a head full of thoughts about my DJ date. ~ [Lovefool by Feuerbach Quartet (The Cardigans)] Myra's recommendation, Waikiki Women's Wear, was worth the drive and the traffic. I spent a large amount of money but expanded my wardrobe a lot, and didn't feel like I was just going with whatever they had that fit. The service was excellent, which made up a lot for how bad traffic was getting there and how little sleep I'd gotten. Based on store suggestions and my own preference, I bought a few high-slit pencil skirts, all expensive. I bought half the choices of colors for a style of scoop neck short-sleeved top that was tight and amazingly had enough fabric to fit my bust. I found a brand of halter crop tops that fit great and bought one with a knotted open back and one with a closed zipper back. I also bought a few pairs of pumps and some summer wedges that would go with everything. For comfort, I purchased some spacious and comfortable bras to sleep in after reading something online about unsupportive sleepwear leading to sagging breasts. I bought a couple of nice white bathrobes as well as some slippers. I also bought a new nightgown that actually fit, and wasn't just a potato sack: a lacy blue chemise that hugged my body below my ribs without being restrictive while also managing to comfortably hold my tits in place. When I tried it on and modeled it, I got aroused wondering if Travis might get to see me in this. The staff was kind enough to give me a bunch of free accessories since I was spending enough money to put a down payment on a new car. A lot of them were faux silver with amber, coral, aquamarine, pink sapphire, which I bought thinking of ways to match with my skin, eyes, clothes, or other accessories. Or nail or toes. I thought about what Cordero had said. She was right. I think that I was finding myself attracted to feminine things the same way I treated my beard as a man. Details and effort mattered for the Bearded Hubby, but there was so much more payoff now. While loading up my SUV with new clothes, I got a text from Travis: "I want to take you somewhere with a cool view. Sound good?" I replied back with: smiling emoji; thumbs up emoji; "I'm not a picky eater, cool view sounds great" He replied back with a thumbs up and I saw Sam's name a few text conversations below. Our last texts were about my interview with Ben which felt like a whole lifetime ago, but it'd only been a week. I knew what I had to do. I drove back home as the sun was setting and saw Ben's car in the garage. He'd left me a text saying that he wanted to go over scheduling tonight when I got in. I sent him a text saying, "I'll be in soon" then sat in the SUV and dialed Sam's number, expecting to leave a message saying we needed to talk. I couldn't do any of this over text. Unexpectedly, Sam picked up, "hey." I had a lump in my throat, but managed a "hey." Sam sighed, "I'm glad you called." "Yeah," I replied. I had no idea how to do this. "How is Hawaii?" "It's fine. Just working." "Mhm," Sam mumbled. I thought of how I was going to word this and wondered if he was going to apologize or try to get me back. Before I could say anything, Sam said, "you know, I'd be willing to take you back if you apologized for the way you treated me." "Oh, what?" I said. "Sam, I'm not calling to try and get you back." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I mean, I'm calling to say that I don't think our marriage is going to work anymore. You agree, right?" There was a long pause and then Sam said, "yeah, sure. Whatever. Wow. I didn't expect you to really be done. I guess you never loved me and it was all a lie, huh?" "No, Sam I loved you." "Past tense. Right. Got it." I didn't reply and swallowed some saliva. "I'm sorry for hurting you." "Oh, no. You don't get to feel sorry for me. You're leaving me because I posted some pictures of you on Instagram that you agreed to let me post, for fucks sake. This is just because you got some great job and want to fuck around with rich Hollywood people in Hawaii, don't pretend like I am at all to blame." "What the fuck is wrong with you? Those pictures were disgusting. You are such a prick, Sam." I started crying, but tried not to let him know. He was quiet for a while and then said, "I do miss you." I just shook my head and said, "okay." "Okay." He sighed a few times and said, "okay, this is really over then. Good thing we didn't have kids, I guess. Dodged that bullet. Have fun with your new rich friends," and then hung up. I wiped my eyes on a napkin then sat in the car for another fifteen minutes or so trying to relax. I put my phone on silent and threw it in my purse, then hauled a bag of clothes into the house. Ben was sitting at the kitchen counter. "Need some help bringing things in?" he asked. "Yeah, it's a few trips." I went back out with Ben and we managed everything with a single trip. "You've been busy today, huh?" he asked. "Yeah, I needed some new clothes." He nodded in response and we set about scheduling for the next two months in advance. I had two days off a week, but I would be on-call. I had one evening a week where I wouldn't be on-call, but I would get a bonus based on how often I had to work during my on-call times. It was a nice sum and I was cool with it. It was more hours than Brian had to deal with, but Brian wasn't working for a celebrity film director. Ben also let me know that I might have to make on-set visits occasionally or even help on the set. I was pretty curious about the filmmaking connection of this job and told him I was looking forward to it. "Are you okay, by the way?" he asked and I thought that might face might be red from crying. "Oh yeah, just had a pretty intense conversation on the phone, but I'm all good." "Okay, just checking. I don't have an HR department or anything, but if you have a problem, let me know. I've been around the block, seen some things, maybe I can impart some island wisdom." He smiled. I nodded, saying "I will probably take you up on that at some point. Um, so I'm going to take tomorrow as one of my 'no on-call' evenings, is that okay?" "Works for me," he said looking like an internal thought had registered. I smiled and wondered if I should tell him it was a date. He'd already spotted me with the DJ. I sucked my teeth and said, "so, what's the policy on me having people over?" He raised an eyebrow and said, "I don't really have a policy on it. Mi casa es su casa, Spencer." He raised a finger and said, "but, hm, let's... just say that I'm a little paranoid about people being in my house, actually." "Oh yeah, that's understandable," I said nodding, thinking about the setup in his master bedroom. "I'll uh, try to avoid having people over unless there's no other option." He nodded and sort of grimaced, "yeah, sorry. See, I told you I'm too easy of a 'yes.' You're going to have to say 'no' to me... for yourself sometimes too, I guess?" He raised his voice at the end, arching an eyebrow very high. It made me laugh a lot. "That is really funny. Okay, Ben." I said continuing to chuckle. "Okay, I'm hitting the sack, goodnight." "'Night, Spence." When I woke up the next morning, all the bags of clothing, accessories, and shoes were neatly placed outside my bedroom door. I thought, "cleaning service wasn't scheduled," and then realized that it must have been Ben. I looked outside and his car was already gone. ~ [Tainted Love by Feuerbach Quartet (Dexy's Midnight Runners)] I looked at my phone as I waited outside Ben Hale's house for Travis to pick me up. I thought about how much of the last 24 hours I'd spent preparing for this date. I'd covered myself in "beauty sleep" body butter the night before, and in the morning I took a long shower shampooing, conditioning, and clarifying my hair, then repeating. I also gave myself an extensive manicure and pedicure, brushed and flossed my teeth twice, used a teeth whitener just in case, and then gave myself a quick shower before the final touches to get rid of any sweat and grime from the day of light work I'd done. I was technically bra-free wearing a underwire-supported dark pastel-blue rayon halter crop top with an open knot back and a tight high slit pencil steel gray twill skirt with a hem about an inch and a half lower than my knee. I had charcoal gray low-heel pumps, with a big ring and matching earrings, all silver and amber. My fingernails and toenails were painted amber, my lips stick was a matte coral, and my hair was up in a bun. Standing on the side of the street in Black Point, I probably didn't look like a prostitute but I still felt like I was attracting attention. I could have met him at the restaurant, but he insisted on driving. After another ten minutes, I looked back at the house and thought I saw Ben in the kitchen through the shaded glass. I couldn't tell if he was checking on me or not. I huffed a little. I didn't need my boss watching me wait for a date. I heard an engine approaching and looked excitedly, despite having done the same thing and be disappointed a few times already. I sighed with relief when I saw it was a white Jeep Wrangler. "Sorry I'm late," Travis said, "hop on in." "No problem," I said, feeling a little dejected that he didn't get out of the car to greet me. I opened the door and had to lift myself up a little to get in. After I closed the door and buckled in, Travis leaned over to kiss me. I reciprocated then watched him drive for a little bit thinking about how handsome he was. His car was a little cluttered and dirty, but luckily my skin wasn't touching anything gross. On the drive there he talked the entire time about all the breweries that were opening up on the island and how he heard The Beachhouse at the Moana had started getting some single-barrel beers, but that otherwise "it was kind of for tourists and old people." I told him that I just wanted his company and a nice view. I was more of a wine person and Sam had always really been into craft beers and things. I had zero interest, but listened to Travis talk. He was hot when he was talking about really being into something. We arrived and I managed to get out of the Wrangler with my dignity intact. Travis smiled handsomely and said, "You look amazing by the way." The restaurant was romantically lit and had a massive and unique looking tree growing up in a courtyard. Our table was on a veranda in full view of the ocean. "This is beautiful," I said. The place was packed and almost every table was full, except ours and the one right beside it. I ordered a glass of pinot grigio and had to show my post-Switch ID. Travis started looking at the menu and said, "I hope you like fish." I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I do." I liked some fish, but not fishy fish. There was a parmesan crusted sole on the menu that I could get. I suddenly felt thin and empty in my tight skirt, remembering that I hadn't eaten today. "Did you like that playlist?" I asked. "Oh, the string music? Ehh, not really my thing. I mean, why not just listen to the originals?" he said dismissively. "Well, I like it because it's kind of elegant sounding and brings out the melodies in the originals. A lot of them are covers of songs I don't like, honestly. But it-" We were interrupted by the waiter who dropped off our drinks and took our orders, then before I could continue explaining about the music, Travis said, "so wow, Vera Cordero was at that party. Are you friends with her?" he asked. "Uhh, no. I just know her through work." "What's she like," he asked. "Um, she's pretty cool. Kind of intense, I guess." "I bet," he said with a smirk. I thought, "ugh, Sam was in love with her too, both as a girl and a guy." Our appetizers arrived and Travis smiled at me. "It's kind of lame how every time there's a story about her it's a climate change charity or something." "Well, it's cool that she does that though," I replied quickly, not thinking that I might want to avoid politics. "It's kinda cheesy. All that stuff's fake anyway." "Charities?" I asked. "No, like, climate change stuff." "Oh," I said pushing around my salad and not making eye contact. I really didn't want to have a political argument on our first date, so I just let it slide. "How's your appetizer?" I asked. "It's pretty good. You're just picking at yours, should we send it back?" "Ah, no. I'm just don't want to fill up before the main course." "It's just a salad. Ugh, my crazy ex-girlfriend used to always order a salad, then eat half my appetizer and not even touch it. Like, I get it, you want to look like you're trying to lose weight so you get a salad, but then, what the fuck, you're eating half my food, you know?" "Uhh yeah." I drank some more wine. Somehow Travis was seeming a little less attractive since the date started. I said, "I have an ex who used to eat all of her food and then mine too," thinking of Sam's ridiculous appetite. "Oh wow," he said making a surprised face and eating a few more bites of his appetizer, which looked like some kind of grilled cheese thing. "That's pretty cool." "What? The appetizer?" "No, that you're bi-sexual. Like, a lot of guys it would be intimidated but like, I'm totally cool with it." "Oh, no, I'm straight." I had no idea where the confusion was coming from and finished my glass of wine thinking that I needed a second. "Well, you said your ex was a girl. Or did I hear wrong?" "Used to be, yeah. I should have said 'he.' He caught the Switch so he's a guy now. We were boyfriend and girlfriend when we were together before catching it." "Oh," he said. The waiter came by and took our food away and then brought me a glass of wine. Travis was looking at his phone the whole time, so I got mine out too. I didn't have any new messages, but I looked at the news. There was going to be a shooting star tonight. It sounded romantic. Travis looked back up from his phone and said, "So, you're really pretty but, you really should have told me you caught the Switch before we kissed." "Oh, I'm sorry," I stammered. "Is something wrong?" "Uh, yeah. You used to be a guy." He looked at me and smirked, like I was crazy for even asking the question. "Oh," I said and felt my arms and face go numb. I suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed, and hurt. "Um, I'm sorry." "Yeah," he said, crossing his arms. "How long ago did you catch it? Like, high school?" "No, uh, a little over two months ago..." He responded with a face like he wanted to throw up. "Oh fuck," he said, looking at me with horror. "You were a guy two months ago?" he put his fork and knife down. The way he was looking at me made me not only feel hurt but also a little scared. "I'm sorry," I said. "I uh, I have to use the restroom, excuse me." I got up and headed towards the women's bathroom sign feeling vaguely like an intruder after all the shit Travis had just said to me. I went into a stall, sat down on a lidded toilet, and cried into toilet paper. This was too much. When I finally composed myself, I came back to the table to find a wad of cash and no Travis. I asked for the bill. He'd barely left enough to cover the tip. ~ [Wicked Game by GnuS Cello (Chris Isaak)] I wandered back to the front door of the house, leaving the Uber driver a five-star rating and a tip, mostly because she was a woman. I was extremely glad to have had female company, even the silent Uber driver kind, after that mess of a date. Feeling run down and rejected, I opened the door and put my purse on the kitchen counter. I saw signs that Ben was here and it looked like he was making cocktails. I took off my heels and went in search of alcohol, hoping that he was alone. I didn't feel like making friendly conversation with anyone new right now. I found him on the wrought-iron encircled small brick veranda overlooking the pool. He was wearing jeans and a white long-sleeve t-shirt sipping a highball and looking out at the Pacific. I felt a cool breeze on my arms, my bust, and even up my skirt in a pleasant way. "Hey Ben." "Hey, that was fast." "Yeah, it sucked. Massively," I said leaning against the fence, which was luckily sturdy enough for me. "What are you doing out here?" "Supposed to be some shooting stars tonight. I like that kind of thing. Want a drink? Whiskey sour?" "Sure, thank you. Sorry to interrupt. I'll restock the liquor cabinet tomorrow, sorry."" "Oh no, it's cool. Here," he said handing me a drink. It tasted good and I thought about Sam and Travis. "Men suck," I said taking a sip, "but I'm open to giving you a pass for this drink." We both laughed. "What happened?" "I left my husband yesterday, he was a dickhead and it took me too long to see it," I sighed. "Oh wow, no I meant tonight, but that's huge. Your marriage was nullified because of the Switch, right?" I rolled my eyes, "yeah, so I guess the government was right about that. Still sucked breaking up officially. The Switch ruined my date tonight too. Guy freaked out when I told him I had it." He scoffed in disgust. "Gross." "Mhm," I sipped some more. "People and their shitty hangups." "It's beyond a hangup. It's vile bigotry if you ask me." He seemed genuinely empathetic and I remembered that he was making a documentary about the disease. His brutish persona made me forget how progressive he was sometimes. "Yeah," I nodded. "I think that I've been around too many cool people and it spoiled me. I forgot there were assholes out there." Ben scoffed and said, "yeah. But that's good, you know. Surround yourself with good people, there really are too many assholes out there. I've dated a few Switch survivors. They're always interesting. People who've seen the world two different ways have a certain perspective. It's why I want to finish this doc." "Vera Cordero told me she had the Switch. I had no idea," I said. "She also told me about you two," I sipped some alcohol. "Oh, did she?" he asked. "Vera is special, but... anyway, she's Vera." "I guess it didn't end too badly, you're still kinda close, right?" "We do still work really really well together though. Filmmaking-wise. The thing between us was bad. I broke up with her. She tells people it was mutual now. I don't care. " "Wow. Do you regret it? I mean, she's like the hottest woman on the planet now," I said teasing him. I felt like he could take it. "You even have that painting of her in your house." He got a mischievous boyish smile, "That's not just 'some painting,' it's a Maxwell Fraiche! Also, I'm good, trust me. She's an ice queen in bed." I laughed, "yeah, I could totally see that." I sipped some more and said, "You know, sometimes when you smile it's like a complete transformation. Has anybody ever told you that?" He chuckled and said, "no, nobody has ever said that." "Well it's true." "You have 'a thing' too, you know," he responded, also teasing. "What's my thing?" "Well, you seem lost in thought a lot and it always makes you look pana po'o." "What's pana po'o?" "It means 'I can't remember where I left my keys.'" I laughed and then noticed something, "oh shit, wait." He had on a shirt that said "Brakebills University." "Why do you have on a The Magicians t- shirt?" "Um, because I love The Magicians?" I slapped him in the shoulder, "no fucking way! That is my favorite show of all time. I've seen the whole thing three times all the way through." We talked about our favorite characters, scenes, episodes, seasons, quotes, and compared which of us was the bigger fan for awhile, refreshing our drinks until we were finally distracted by the shooting stars. "Ben, you are actually pretty cool," I said, looking up at the stars and then back, snatching a glimpse of him looking at my body and my heartbeat quickened. "This was a pretty romantic situation," I thought, "if he tries to kiss me or something, I'm going to kick him in the nuts." He was my boss though, and gentlemanly enough so that I felt safe. "You too. I'm happy to know I'm sharing my house with a huge nerd now," he absentmindedly pushed some of his curly hair out of his face. I smiled and thought, "I do like his hair. And his face." "I'm only a nerd for The Magicians," I said slyly. "You sure about that?" he asked, sipping his drink, grinning boyishly. The highball glass looked like a tiny cup in his large hands. They were at least two or three times as big as mine. I looked back up at the stars trying not to think about what those hands could be good for. The clip holding my hair up was starting to tug uncomfortably, so I reached up to try and get it out, but struggled, and it got caught in my hair. "Here, let me help you with that," Ben said, coming in close, towering over me, and reaching behind my head. His muscles looked massive and I wondered how they felt, if they were just pure solid. I resisted the urge to poke them. "One second," he said, tugging a few strands of hair, then pulling it off, letting my hair fall down my back. He looked down at me and put the hair clip in my hand, "you have amazing eyes," he said. I gulped and thought, "he'd better not try and kiss me." Then I felt his giant hands nearly completely wrap around my waist as he leaned over and kissed me. "Mmm," I moaned, kissing him back but also weakly pushing against the wall of muscles. He pulled my waist in close, then found myself running my hands along his arms and under his shirtsleeves, feeling his muscles. "It's just kissing," I thought, "and really good kissing." He stopped kissing me long enough to look me in the eyes again. I leaned a little bit forward to show that I wanted more and he came in to kiss me again. My body had turned into a furnace and Ben moved one hand from around my waist to cradle my lower back, and the other to squeeze my butt, just a few inches from my moistening pussy. I thought, "this kissing is as far as I'm going to go," and started feeling his pecs through his shirt. And his six-pack. He was so tall and warm and solid. "He's such a big strong man, and I'm such a helpless little girl," I mentally joked with myself. But inside the joke I also realized how much he was turning me on. He squeezed a boob and I felt one of my knees buckle in response. He pulled away and then kissed me again quickly, looking back inside the house, hands still roaming my body. I thought, "yeah, there are more comfortable places to make out inside." I nodded and grabbed the whiskey sour pitcher as he opened the door for me. I was three steps in before he took the pitcher out of my hand and put it on a glass table. I thought, "oh, good thing it's glass so the condensation won't permanently stain it," as he brought me in for another kiss, this time pulling me onto the sectional couch. I was in his lap and he reached forward grabbing the remote and to dim the lights as I tugged off his shirt. "I just want to feel his muscles," I thought, "while we make out." I explored his broad shoulders and shaved pecs with my fingers. His large hands found their way into the high slit in my pencil skirt and I felt him cradling my smooth legs and then butt, and then he slipped a finger in past my panties into my vagina. "Okay, as long as my panties stay on," I thought, "it's still basically just making out." I moaned as he started finding spots inside me that further broke down my defenses. His fingers were long and he was confident with them. I got short of breath as he gently put pressure on my clitoris, then he left me wanting more and unzipped my skirt, leaving me with just my pink lace tanga panties left. He started pulling them off, so I stood up and let him finish the job. "They were just getting in the way anyway," I thought, "as long as his cock stays in his jeans I'm okay." As soon as I straddled him again, I felt his huge and thick cock straining to be free of his jeans. I felt his thumbs slide under the band of my halter top and start lifting. "I wanted to get out of that top," I thought as I was blinded by it and my tits dropped out with a bounce. His mouth found one of my nipples as his large hands could easily grasp a boob each and I finished pulling the top over my head and freeing my hair. I tossed it away. He looked up at me while sucking a nipple, then moved his mouth to the other. I ran my fingers through his hair while he started playing with my clit again. I started thinking, "maybe I could just give him a handjob," and tugged at his belt, making eye contact and kissing him. He looked up at me again and unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them down along with his briefs. I saw his cock flop out and thought, "he trims his pubic hair." It was much longer than Sam's, and at least twice as thick. It felt warm in my hand, which it dwarfed. Even with both of my hands stroking it, it got harder but I could tell it wasn't going to get him off. I had to take care of him or he was going to fuck me right here on the couch. "There's no way I can suck that. I'll have to get him off with my tits," I thought, "my hands just aren't big enough." I pulled away from him to get down on the ground and wrap my tits around his cock, but he moved me in another direction and took me off balance. I landed face first on the couch next to him, with one knee on the cushion and the other on the ground. I was spread wide open for him. In one smooth motion he came around behind me and hiked my other leg onto the couch, leaving my ass in the air. He started rubbing the head of his cock on my pussy and my body shuddered. He was playing with my ass, squeezing it and spreading my cheeks. I was wet and open for him, and I kept unconsciously backing up against the head of his cock, liking how huge it felt against my entrance. "We both want to fuck," I thought, "but I'm going to look back and tell him to stop." I turned my head to look back at him as he came around and squeezed my boob, and kissed me. I said nothing but, "Ohhh fuck," and moaned loudly as he put his cock inside me, every bit of it hitting that spot I loved, that feeling I craved. It was so hugely thick that it was finding new spots I didn't know about. From the way he started shifting in and out I could tell he was holding back. "Let me know when I can go deeper, babe," He said, flexing inside me. He grabbed a tit again and I felt a gush of fluid. For a split second I was terrified that he'd already came, but then I realized it was my own wetness. "He called me 'babe,' oh fuck," I thought. I was like a waterfall. I heard a "squish" of my own juices and looked back nodding. He thrust deeper and deeper. "I want you to cum on my dick, Spencer," he said pulling me up against him with one arm on my chest, still inside me from behind. I watched my breasts swing rhythmically in the reflection of a window as he pumped me. I could see the fat on my ass and thighs jiggling with every thrust. Ben had a serious face. He was visually devouring my body. I whimpered looking in my own helpless eyes while he fucked me. I got even wetter and he pushed me back down on the couch, this time flat on it with one of my legs on the floor. The angle was insanely deep and he railed me so hard that I moaned loudly with the first orgasm I'd ever had from a man's dick. I helped spread my ass apart so he could get deeper, and felt my butt cheeks bouncing against his hard body. Continuing to cum, the intensity didn't let me notice my butt and legs falling asleep. He pulled out slowly and I turned around to say, "Oh fuck, Ben. That was so good." "Oh, we're not done, babe," he said flipping me over like a pillow then kissing my mouth, then neck, then nipples. His cock was still huge and hard. I wanted to spread my legs for him, but couldn't. I wanted him to put it back in. I laughed and said, "my legs are asleep," as he kissed me. But instead of fucking me on the couch again, he picked me up and carried me upstairs. I got excited thinking about the master bedroom mirrors, but instead he walked down to my bedroom. He gently put me on the bed and stood over me for a second looking down at my helpless naked body with a smile. I arched my back knowing he'd like it and he put a hand down to squeeze one breast. I knew he'd brought me up here to cum in me. With my butt and legs all pins and needles, still feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm from downstairs, I said, "that's Maui and the other is Oahu," pointing as he caressed my body. He smiled and said, "goddamn you're hot, girl," then descended, burying his face in the two jiggling mountains of flesh on my chest. I tried spreading my legs for him as best I could with him taking control and finishing the job for me. A stray breeze reminded me how wet I still was as I felt some of the moisture around my pussy cool, then I moaned and grabbed his shoulder blades as he found his way inside of me again. With both my legs hiked up against his biceps, I easily took all of his cock and managed to buck up against him matching his rhythm. Covered in sweat after a long period of intense missionary position sex, he finally came inside me while holding my ass and biting my neck. He rolled off of me and we both breathed heavily for a while lying next to one another. My heart was pounding in my ears and I lazily grabbed a towel by the bed for his cum to dribble on. He brought us a couple of glasses of water out of my bathroom faucet and we shared only a few sweet words and kisses. He fell asleep before I did, still grasping my inner thigh with his hand, like I was his prisoner and he wanted to make sure I didn't escape. I had too much of a buzz to stay awake, but as I fell asleep I could still feel how deep he'd gotten inside me. "I needed that so fucking bad," I thought before drifting off to sleep. ~ [Teardrop by Eklipse (Massive Attack)] I woke up at dawn, naked and alone in my bed, smelling green tea. The bed was cold where Ben had slept and I thought about how I wanted to wrap my body around his right now. I knew his schedule by heart, so I knew that if it was dawn, he was probably fifteen minutes down the road to the shooting location. I put on a white cotton bathrobe, cinched it around my waist, and made my way downstairs. All the clothes Ben had taken off of me were still where he tossed them. I picked them up and put them on the couch. I fixed the couch cushions we'd displaced, smiling thinking about when he'd pressed my body into it and drilled me. I walked into the kitchen and saw where Ben had made himself some green tea before leaving. I poured some hot water into the same cup he used and made myself some as well. I caught sight of myself in a mirror and noticed that my robe was hanging open enough to see a nipple. I thought, "that woman looks like she just had the best sex of her life." I smiled. I pulled my phone out of my purse and checked my itinerary: a week's worth of meal prep; scheduling Ben to get fitted for a suit since he'd outgrown his last one; find Ben a new dentist and schedule a visit since his last one retired; ask Levi Gardner's personal assistant to send the last six months of cash flow statements for the distillery they co-owned; pay a handful of his grandmother's hospital bills; and answer about ten emails. I sipped my green tea and thought, "okay, Spencer. Don't overthink this. You just had unprotected sex with your obscenely rich boss the same week you moved in with him and left your husband. Your boss is only one year younger than your dad, spends a lot of his free time watching martial-arts tournaments, pals around with movie stars, and has a sex camera in his bedroom. Did I mention that he's your boss?" I stared out the window and heard my phone vibrate: Ben Hale (boss): "I hate that I had to leave. I didn't want to wake you. You were amazing last night. I pulled over to send this text, so don't worry, not driving. I'll see you later you sexy beautiful girl." I stared at the message, then closed my eyes. That message was so perfectly "Ben." It definitely sounds like he wants to fuck me again. I thought about how I'd reply. I wasn't honest enough with Sam, I saw that now. I should have told him what I really felt. It might have ended the relationship sooner or it might have made things better, but either way it would have been healthier for me. So honestly, what was I feeling right now? I sipped green tea and thought about it. "I definitely want him to fuck me again," I said out loud, counting down on my fingers. "He gave me an amazing orgasm." He's rich," a second finger, "hot," a third finger, "funny," a fourth finger, "likes The Magicians," emphatic fifth finger. Sixth finger, "unbelievably good sex." "So," I thought, "I definitely want to get fucked by this specific guy again." That was a solid place to start. How about the job? "I want to keep this job, I'm good at it, I think, and it pays well," I thought to myself. So what's the best way to successfully keep fucking your boss? I treated it like all my problems and googled advice: it's best to make it public and tell everyone; it's best to make it a secret and tell no one; draw the line between personal and professional; & remember you're still an equal. Two of those I would work on, equality and professionalism, the last "secret or public" we'd need to talk about. Other general advice: keep your resume updated in case things go bad; keep it up for job security or a promotion; you can gain office politics power; it can create a toxic working environment; according to a survey, about a quarter of all working people have fucked their boss, with sizeable percentages doing it for favors; most people fuck their boss and nothing bad happens; a good chunk of women get promoted for it. Well the resume thing is always a good idea, though I guess if I lose this job because of the sex, adding one week of "Ben Hale Personal Assistant" and praying they don't find out about the fucking isn't a great reason to update it. All those statistics sound great for me. I'm not worried too much about the work environment here, but if it's public I suppose things could get weird with the film crew. Vera Cordero might murder me, but at least all those film dork douchebags might leave me alone. Could be worth the murder. So maintain the professional vs. personal divide, think of myself as an equal, figure out the "public or private?" question. I closed my eyes and thought, "other questions like 'where is this headed?' I am simply not going to ask." Let's see where Ben wants to take things or if I feel a certain way. For now, I am good with the sex. "Mmm," I said out loud, thinking about the sex. As cheesy as it sounded, I really felt like I'd had my virginity taken for the second time last night. And the way we barely spoke was so erotic. We could just make eye contact and read each other's minds. I knew what he wanted and he knew what I needed. I liked that he could keep his cock hard for so long, and I suspected that the sex was about 30-45 minutes. However long it was, it was just right. I wanted to keep those things in mind and let him know I was available without implying an emotional attachment, so I thought about a good wording. I finally replied to him with, "god yes, you are amazing. My legs are jelly today. See you later" then a "sunglasses" emoji. He replied quickly with two "sunglasses" emojis. "Perfect," I thought and then initiated a long morning grooming and cleaning session thinking about the sex, his body, the flirting beforehand, him tearing my clothes off, and so on. I did all the administrative work in panties and a t-shirt. Doing meal prep practically nude made me feel like I was "cooking for my man," which turned me on to an absurd degree even if it was just green smoothies, tons of grilled chicken, and quinoa. Maybe a tiny bit of a blend between personal and professional was unavoidable. I closed my eyes and thought, "what would the Bearded Hubby say about this?" Oh no, Bearded Hubby would be very concerned about the age difference, since it played into patriarchal assumptions about women only having value when they're younger. I didn't really feel up or down about him being older. He looked young. Bearded Hubby probably wouldn't like that he has power over me because he's my boss, but ugh, just thinking that kind of kind of turned me on in a weird way. The Bearded Hubby would also probably think that Ben's uber-masculine demeanor and cocksure attitude were major red flags that he had deep-seated insecurities, thought of women as objects, and might even be repressing a latent homosexuality. He probably wouldn't have made a video about Ben's biceps, boyish grin, beautiful cock, or near-psychic ability to know what a girl needed to be sexually fulfilled. And that's why the Bearded Hubby deserved to be ignored and forgotten. I exchanged a few work texts with Ben, and everything seemed good. It was kept casual. "Sunglasses" emojis were as flirty as we would going now. I switched to just that blue chemise nighty with nothing underneath and just flipped between channels before he got back to the house. When I heard him open the door, I was suddenly hit with anxiety thinking, "What if he comes in and says the dreaded 'last night was a mistake'?" and my body ached. I'd feel pretty embarrassed dressed this way. Instead he walked right up to the couch behind me, reached down and turned my head to the side, then kissed me. I stood up and he grabbed me around the waist, kissing me again. I matched eyes with him and said, purposefully and as an equal, with a slight nod, "mirrors," deliberately intoning somewhere between a question and a desire. A sly smile spread across his face. He shook his head and chuckled, then nodded. We fucked in his bedroom, watching ourselves in the sex mirrors on the walls and ceiling. It made it so easy to maintain eye contact and let us read what the other wanted. After watching him fuck me in the mirror, his public hair was so drenched in my juices it was like he'd gone for a swim. When we wore ourselves out, we ate hawaiian pizza and watched The Magicians in bed. I asked Ben to explain as best he could how a show like that is made and he did, with pauses and thorough explanations. Then, that night we slept in his bedroom together, I noticed that whether he was conscious of it or not, he always had to be touching my body in some way with his body. He craved contact with me. I wasn't trying to analyze "this" too much, but I knew on some deep level that whatever it was, it was a good kind of romance for both of us. ~ Next: In the third and final chapter, Spencer makes a friend and Ben flies a helicopter.