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Author's Note: It became clear while I was writing this story that aspects of it have been influenced by the stories of Ed Miller and Zedd, among others, but those two primarily. I hope they, and the reader, see this effort as one by a new TG writer searching for their own voice as opposed to being an imitation of those two established authors. Although, I guess, both things could be true. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this story for what it is. PERFECT ROOMMATES You don't always know how much your life can change when you get a new roommate, even when it's someone you think you know. It was the beginning of summer, and my old roommate had just got a new job in Boston, moving out almost immediately upon graduation. My friend Regina was over to watch some horror movies; it was something we did every first Friday of the month. "So how's the new roommate search been going, Stevie-boy?" she asked. My face gave an obvious look of indifference. "That well, huh?" I shrugged. "I've still got four weeks to find someone. Thank God, Joshua paid the rent for June." "Well he is making bank now...." Regina opened the fridge. "Do you want a PBR?" "Yeah." She handed me a tallboy, and I popped it open. She seemed preoccupied; her attention hadn't really been focused on "The Howling". She kept looking out the window as day darkened into twilight. "What do you want to watch next? 'Silver Bullet' or 'Curse of the Werewolf'?" Regina didn't answer, just kept staring outside. *Who-hoo* I whistled, and waved my hand in front of her face. She shook her head clear. "Curse of the Werewolf," she answered. "OK. What's on your mind?" She bit her lower lip. I knew that look on her face--we'd been friends since the first day of middle school--she was mulling over what to say and how to say it. "Steve, what would you say to me moving in?" "That'd be great," I answered. "But your parents would never allow it." Regina came from a conservative religious family. Her parents hadn't even wanted her to go away to college, even though we were only 90 mins away from our hometown. The relationship with her parents had been strained throughout her high school years as she tugged and pulled away from them. Her parents liked me; however, they both would have liked me to be more of a romantic interest to her than I was. Even so, they would never want us to live together, although Regina and I were completely platonic. When I first met Regina, she had been a complete tomboy--short hair, never wore dresses, best in P.E., would rather slug guys than kiss them. For whatever reason, we became fast friends, and her parents always pushed us to hang out together. Looking back, it was pretty clear they were worried their daughter might be a lesbian and saw me as their best hope for a son-in-law. But by the time we got to high school, Regina's tomboy nature had softened. She never grew out her hair beyond a bob, but she did start to act and look more traditionally feminine. She even started dating guys, to her parents relief, though she always had strict curfews (which didn't stop her from losing her virginity before I did). Regina stood up. "What if... things changed." "Changed how? You know your parents would cut you off if you moved in with a guy before marriage. Even if it was me." "I know," she replied. She bit her lower lip again, fret all over her face. "But what if things changed?" she said again. "What do you mean?" She went over to her backpack and took out a small bundle and unwrapped it on the kitchen counter. "What's that?" I asked. "OK. This is going to sound crazy," she began. "But on Tuesday I was down in the village"--which was what the locals called the downtown shopping district--"and I came across this little shop, in fact I almost missed it. I swear it wasn't there at first but then I looked back and there it was...." "Okaaaaaaaaaaay...." "It was weird, I know. But I was drawn inside and met the owner. She was this beautiful woman with emerald green eyes that matched her dress perfectly. 'Hello, Regina,' she greeted me. She knew my name and yet it didn't weird me out. Of course, she knew my name, I thought. Anyway, we started talking--" "That's weird," I said. She shrugged. "No, she was really cool. We started talking. Her name is Esmerelda and she was so nice, so amazing. We ended up going into the backroom for a cup of tea." "Backroom? Do you want to be a 'Dateline' victim? And what about the shop? Didn't any one else come in while you were drinking tea?" A puzzled look came over Regina's face. "No... No. Stop interrupting. We started talking and she knew things about my life that she couldn't possibly have known. Knew that I'd always felt like I'd never should have been born a girl, that deep down inside, I always felt like I should have been a boy." This was something I'd suspected about Regina, but after three boyfriends and two rebound dudes in-between those three, I'd just assumed she was pretty straight. "Are you telling me you're trans?" "Yes. No. It's complicated. Like, I'd rather be a guy than a girl; I always have. But I don't think I'd ever have done anything about it till now. Like it was too deep down, not something that I *needed* to do like Brenda." Brenda had been our high school class president when she was Richard. She'd come out just after graduating high school and was now the student body president of our university. "Sooooooo.... What are you saying?" I asked. "I'm getting to that. Turns out, don't laugh, Esmerelda is a witch, and she runs this little magic shop that appears to people in need." "Ummmmmmm." Regina snapped, "Let me finish!" I snapped my mouth shut, and, strange as it seems, I couldn't say another word while she continued to tell me what happened. "Anyway, we talked and talked. And I realized that if I could, I'd like to be a guy. 'But you'd never transition, would you?' she asked. And I realized that I wouldn't. I didn't have the courage to do it. 'But what if you could?' she asked. 'What if you could and no one, except me and one other person, would ever know you'd been a woman. To the rest of the world, you would be a man, and always had been a man.' "I told her that was impossible. 'Is it?' She replied and then told me she knew I'd be coming and had something for me that would change my life in exactly that way. This." She showed me the unwrapped bundle, an oblong piece of smooth stone. It looked like a rock you might find on a beach, nothing special, except there did seem to be a glow to it--thin veins of glowing blue, like minute strands of electricity pulsing through it. "It's a transformation stone." she said. I gave her an incredulous look. "What? Say something!" I found my voice had returned. "What's a transformation stone?" "This has the power to alter reality and turn me into a man." "How?" "Magic." "OK. OK. OK. How does that rock have the power to do that?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You don't believe me...." "It's kind of hard to believe," I said. "How much did you pay for it?" "Nothing. She gave it to me. Or, at least, told me I'd only pay after it worked." "And how does it work?" "I have to use it in the light of a full moon." Which was tonight, it was the reason we'd decided on watching werewolf movies. "It will show me the life I wish to have. And I just have to say *Yes* to it." "So that's what you were planning for tonight?" "Yes, but I need your help." "Help. How?" "The magic requires the presence of a second person to witness the transformation. To be the fulcrum from one reality to the next. I'll become a man and you and Esmerelda will be the only people with memories of my life as woman." "That's... That's weird." "No. She explained it to me. Reality altering spells need an anchor, and it can't be the spellcaster who enchanted the object. I didn't fully understand it myself but them's the rules." I took a deep breath. "OK." "OK?" "Yeah, let's give it a try." Regina was so happy she hugged me for what was like only the fourth time ever. "We have to wait till midnight. By then the moon will be high enough in the sky tonight for the ritual to work. If I'm right, the light should come in through the glass doors to the balcony." She nodded in their direction. "Alright. That gives us about 3 hours, what do you want to watch till then?" We put on "Silver Bullet", but mostly talked over it. Regina confide in me how she'd always felt like her parents had wanted a boy, and that when she was a small child that it was better to be a boy than a girl. She admitted that she didn't exactly feel like a man "trapped" in a woman's body--she actually felt good about being a woman aside from the whole patriarchy thing--but now that she was given a choice, being a man would be the truer option. It made sense, I thought. If I had the opportunity to be a woman, I'd be curious to explore it. As for Regina, she had always been "one of the guys", and it was amazing how easily she hung out with us. Her boyfriends all started out as "dude friends". I asked Brett, her most recent paramour, what had attracted him to Regina. He shrugged, "I don't know, it was weird. One day, she was an honorary bro, the next I realized she was a pretty sexy girl." Regina had a nice body--trim and athletic--the type that attracted jocks and sports dudes. She had gorgeous legs, nice hips, and a perky rack. We got buzzed on beer waiting for the moon to rise. The movie ended, and I put on "Curse of the Werewolf". There was an early scene with one of those buxom Hammer girls that made me look over at Regina. "So... Are you gay or bi or something?" The question seemed to have not ever occurred to her. "Hmm. I mean I like guys. I've never really been attracted to girls. Maybe a little. Like she's cute," she pointed at the TV screen. "I'd like to be with her." We'd drunk enough that our words were slurred. "S-same," I agreed. "Then when you transform, you'll be a gay man." "Maybe.... No. I think I'll be straight. I'm straight woman, I don't see why I wouldn't be a straight man." She shrugged. I shrugged. "If this works, you'll be my roommate, right?" "Of course, this place is great. I'll move in instantly." The beer buzz was making me sleepy, and we watched the rest of the movie quietly. When it ended, I looked out the glass balcony doors. I could see the moon full and bright. I looked at Regina. She had an anxious look on her face. I wasn't sure if I should say anything or push back against her fantasy. She stood up and mumbled, "I gotta use the bathroom first." When she was finished, I followed her example. I stepped out of the bathroom to see Regina looking down at the stone in her hand. "Well?" I asked quietly. "Let's try it," she said, an eager note in her voice. "OK," I shrugged. "What do you need me to do?" "Turn out the lights and shut off the TV." I did as she said. She pulled aside the curtains that framed the balcony's glass door as far as they could go. My living room was bathed in the pale moonlight. "OK. Sit there to the side and watch me. You just need to observe the transformation." I sat down to the side of the balcony doors so as not to obstruct the moonlight. Regina stepped closer to the glass doors. She slid the door open then took a step back. My apartment was on the top storey, which was nice--we didn't have to worry about peeping toms. The night was warm but not oppressive. A cool breeze blew into the room. It felt good, I was a bit sleepy from the beer. She held the stone in the palm of her hand. It began to glow... no, not exactly... little threads of blue energy seem to appear, pulse, run through the stone's substance. And then--was it a trick of the light--those little threads of energy passed into her hand, wove themselves into her skin. She closed her eyes, and then her hand around the stone. She took a deep breath. I could see her eyes moving beneath her lids, rapidly like she was dreaming, visualizing.... I felt a buzzing in the air. No, it was more than just the air. It was like someone left the universe's biggest sub- woofer on max volume, only there wasn't sound, just vibration. Buzzing, buzzing, buzzing--everything was buzzing. It was then I realized that I couldn't close my eyes. My vision was locked on Regina. Her breathing was coming faster now. It sounded like she was building to orgasm. Intense, that's what I thought, everything intense. Then, Regina's eyes popped wide open. "YES! YES! THAT'S WHAT I WANT! YES!" What happened next is hard to describe. It was like all of the buzzing, the vibrations, the light, and the energy in the room twisted and scrunched in a maelstrom that folded into Regina. I watched as she shifted and metamorphosed. The first thing I notices was her getting taller by a few inches. Her hips narrowed. Her legs grew muscled with dark, wiry hairs sprouting over them. Her arms bulged into a new shape. Her round jawline sharpened and squared. Face stubble appeared across her cheeks. An Adam's apple developed. Her nose became more prominent. But it was her torso where the changes were most noticeable. Her shoulders broadened. Her breasts flattened into manly pecs. The curve of her waist filled out into a strong wedge. The fit of her t-shirt and shorts also morphed into a men's cut. And, of course, the flat space between the legs now sported a conspicuous bulge. The buzzing faded, and the night was once again calm. Regina came out of his trance, and nearly fainted but caught himself. The stone dropped from his hand. "It worked," he said. His voice now much deeper than my own. He collapsed onto the nearby couch. It had worked. I couldn't believe it. "Regina?" I asked, still not convinced. "I think you better call me Roger now," he said. It suited him better; he looked totally like a Roger. I couldn't believe what I'd seen, what I'd experienced. I picked up a nearby kitchen towel, and carefully picked up the stone as if it were a piece of uranium. "Don't worry," Roger said, his voice betraying exhaustion. "It only works once every full moon." A questioning expression must have crossed my face. "At least that's what Esmerelda said." I opened the towel and the stone looked normal, plain. Those strands of luminous energy were nowhere to be seen. "What was it like? To experience it?" Roger tried to tell me but couldn't find the words to describe it. He looked absolutely exhausted, as if he had just been saved from drowning. He seemed to be on the verge of collapsing into sleep. "Nevermind, we can talk about it tomorrow, you should get some sleep." He nodded, stood up and stumbled toward Joshua's old room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where you going?" I asked. "My room," he said matter-of-factly. "What?" I said. He opened the door. What had just minutes ago been nearly empty, aside from a few bags to be donated to Goodwill, was now a fully furnished and lived-in room. And, somehow, it looked exactly like Roger's room should look. I mean I can't really explain it past that. Roger pulled off his t-shirt and slipped out of his cargo shorts unselfconsciously, as if I wasn't even there. He slipped between his sheets and fell asleep instantly. I went back out to the living room and crashed on the couch. I flipped the the TV back on to some crime show, but I wasn't paying attention to it. I just kept thinking about what had happened. I was exhausted, too, so I turned off the TV and made for my room. But first I looked in on Roger. He was snoring away. There was a faint memory in my mind of him "moving in" earlier today, that's why we were so tired, right? Only that wasn't what happened, and I knew I would never forget what really did. I crashed into my bed. For a brief moment, like ten minutes, I was too exhausted to sleep. My mind was turning over and over what I'd experienced. Roger was now Roger, and I had a new roommate. My last thought I could recall before falling asleep--Easiest move I'd ever been apart of. * * * * * The next morning I awoke to the smell of breakfast being made. I pulled on a t-shirt and some jeans and headed out to the kitchen. Roger was there frying up bacon, eggs, and hash browns, toast in the toaster, cups of yogurt on the counter, a full coffee pot. "You've been busy," I said. "Woke up early and went for a run!" He put a class of OJ in front of me. "This, some yogurt, and a cup of coffee will kill that hangover." I drained the glass, and he filled it back up, plopped two cups of vanilla yogurt in front of me. "What's with you? You drank more than I did." He paused for a moment. "Hmmm. I guess I did. Dutch courage for this...." He gestured towards his new body. "Maybe it all burned off during the transformation." "Yeah, about that?" "What?" "How are we going to explain it to everyone else?" He threw his wallet down in front of me. "Look inside," he said. The driver's license had altered. Roger George Hamilton. "We're the only ones who will ever remember Regina. Now let that be the last time we ever need mention her name." I shrugged and drained my second glass of OJ. I opened the yogurt and devoured them. "Can I get some cream & sugar for the coffee?" "Sure, sure," he said cheerfully. "So you live here now." "Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for letting me move in." "But your stuff just appeared in there." He shrugged. "Easiest move I've ever been apart of." I nodded. "But I still owe you dinner for your help with the 'move'," he said with a wink. "How about we go down to Philly's tonight and watch the game." "Who am I to turn down a free meal." He offered me some more substantial fare, but my stomach wasn't having any of it yet. Instead, I drank down my coffee and another cup. The caffeine must have interact with the yogurt and OJ--I got the runs, but I did feel better afterwards. Roger watched some late Saturday morning TV, then took a nap. Warping reality really takes it out of you. I chilled. Ate some of the leftover bacon and hash browns, then walked to the local movie theater for an afternoon matinee. When I got back home, Roger was still asleep. I just flipped through TV channels, watched some YouTube and TikTok on my phone before nodding off myself. Roger gently shook me awake. "Feeling better?" he asked. "Yeah, yeah. You?" "Great! Want to head on down to Philly's?" Philly's was the local sports bar. It catered more towards students than townies, so it wasn't as busy during the summer. Tonight, it was pretty sparse in there. We took a table and ordered our drinks and dinner. We watched the baseball game and bullshitted about sports and the movies we'd watched last night and, well, everything else. It was weird, but we'd slipped into our old friendship again. I mean, Roger was Roger now, but it no longer felt like anything had changed. If I wanted to, I could remember a whole life with Roger that was similar but different than the life before, and it took a real effort to remember that life before, although there were some moments that came more easily than others. Like I said, it was weird, but got more and more normal by the second. We finished our food and ordered more beers. If Roger was paying, I was going to let him and get loaded doing it. On our fourth round, I could see something had captured his attention behind me. "What? What are you looking at?" I turned around. "Bro! Be subtle." I rolled my eyes, then "subtly" looked behind me. At a table in the far corner sat two girls, a blonde, who I recognized as Chloe Miller, and a carroty redhead, who I couldn't make out on first glance. "You checking out Chloe Miller?" "No. Angie Morgan." "Angie?" I squawked, and turned back around again--this time without any subtlety. Sure enough, it was her. I'd gone to school with her all my life, ever since Kindergarten. At this point, she felt like a vague pseudo-sister to me, though we didn't ever really talk or hang out. I guess I just remembered the bratty girl in red pigtails. To be fair, however, she had grown in to a very attractive woman. "BRO!" Roger hissed, and tugged on my t-shirt sleeve. I turned back with a snort of laughter. "Come on, it's Angie." "Yeah, but I've had a thing for her since 8th grade when she...." I knew what he meant. She had a set of the juiciest curves on campus. There was even a rumor that Playboy had offered her a pretty penny to pose for them last spring. I knew a lot of dudes who were waiting for that issue to come out to see what decision had been made. "Then why don't you go talk to her?" Roger glanced over at Angie, slammed what was left of his beer, said "OK. I'm going." He strode over to her table. It was just loud enough and her table was just far away enough that I couldn't hear what they discussed, but they were talking for a good 15-20 mins. I glanced back a number of times. Roger had taken a seat and had a drink in front of him. Chloe moved to the bar, her attention squarely focused on her phone. I soon pulled out mine as well. I was going through Instagram for the second time when Roger came back. He gestured toward the waitress with his credit card. "You want another round?" he asked me. "Yeah, sure." The waitress arrived. "Can you get him another round, and one more after that, then cash me out?" "Sure." I must have looked puzzled. "Angie and I are going back to her place to chill," he explained. "Oh.... OH! OK." I said bewildered. "Fingers crossed." I crossed my fingers. The waitress came back with his check, and he scrawled his signature over it. "Let me know when you want your second pint," she said to me. "Don't wait up for me," Roger said, giving me a lecherous wink. Angie was waiting at the door for him and they walked out together. * * * * * Thus, Roger embarked upon a wild tear through our university's summer population of co-eds over the next two months. I'm not sure what surprised me more his voraciousness or just how successful he was. It's one thing to hit on any hottie with a vagina, quite another thing to bed them. He started slow, banging Angie twice more, then moved onto Chloe Miller. One of those times, he implied, may have be with both Angie *and* Chloe. Regardless, the next week there were 3 other girls. By the beginning of July, it rose to 4-5 girls a week and that continued throughout the month. His success surprised even himself. He seemingly possessed an innate talent to chat up and charm the ladies. When I asked him for pointers, he just shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It just comes to me in the moment. I mean I do strike-out a lot...." "Yeah, but you always hit a home run in your last plate appearance of the evening," I retorted. "Yeah, I guess," he said with false modesty and a smirk. At first, I assumed he was just making up for lost time. Had Roger always been a dude, he'd either have a girlfriend by now or be sitting on the couch next to me most nights, I figured. But it soon became clear, he just really liked fucking women. He owned his promiscuity though, and didn't indulge in the mind-fuck games of the pick-up artist. He made it clear that he was looking for a night (possibly two) of no- strings-attached fun. If you're young and good looking, why not take advantage of it, so long as you're open, honest, and responsible. And it was summer too--why not be carefree? His sex-positivity resonated with a lot of girls. The temptation, I know, is to think they were all sluts, but they weren't; I mean one or two of the early ones were. But for the most part, they were just your average college girls enjoying a bit of fun. And Roger was a good looking guy--not really handsome, more rugged, but with a firm, strong build. A trip to the gym allowed me to notice his endowment was above-average, which I thought wasn't really fair, right? From the sounds that came from his room, he had great technique, too. The one time I mentioned it, he muttered dreamily, "I know what a girl likes...." Fortunately, he didn't bring a lot of girls home, which was fine with me. Awkward morning meetings with conquests while making breakfast or watching TV were not high on my list of favorite things. After the first time, I told him he'd have to buy me a pair of noise-cancelling headphones if he wanted to have overnight guests. That afternoon, a pair of AirPods Pro were waiting for me on the coffee table. While I think he preferred going to his partner's place or a neutral site, he continued to bring home girls once, sometimes twice, a week, and when that happened I needed those Airpods. Most of my mornings began with Roger walking in just after I'd made my first cup of coffee--I'd say walk of shame, but he was absolutely shameless, wearing what I came to refer to as his post-fuck smirk. I mean just one look at his face and you knew he'd got laid last night. Even if I didn't see who he'd been with the previous night, I saw enough of his inamoratas to know he had a type--well, two types, really--and never the twain seemed to meet. The first type were buxom girls with lots of curves. Maybe since Angie was his first, she became the template. Whatever the reason, he liked girls with impressive figures and, to be blunt, big boobs. A few weeks into Roger being Roger, when he was bragging about the cup size of his latest conquest, I asked, "What's the big deal, *you* used to have breasts?" "Not like these," he laughed. I rolled my eyes, but it was true. Except when he started picking up the second type--short, beautiful anime-faced waifs: big eyes, cute little noses, almost like real-life pixies. These girls never had the steep curves (or big breasts) of type one, but they were sooooo adorable, and while smaller, they tended to be the louder of the two. Roger clearly liked both. There wasn't a progression from the buxom to waif, more like an expansion. And it seemed like there were times where he was deliberately alternating between the two, night after night. I'm not really sure it was a matter of mood, just a matter of who crossed his path on a given night. As Roger's success with the ladies increased, my own self-esteem crashed. When Roger became Roger, he put behind him the sexually conservative values that Regina had been raised--a clean break from repression to sex positivity. While my family wasn't conservative, we were just as repressed; my family didn't really discuss sex, and when it came up, the topic was quickly and quietly changed. Even knowing this consciously, it had been a hard upbringing to overcome. Coupled with the fact that I was shy around girls, it meant I hadn't had much experience in the dating realm. I wasn't a virgin, but the number of girls with which I'd been involved could be counted on one hand. After just a few weeks of being a man, Roger had been with 4x the women I had. What did that say about me, having been a man all of my life? At first, I was determined to step up my game. I played the dutiful wingman for Roger, hoping to get a few cast offs. Only Roger didn't really need a wingman and didn't really know how to use one anyways. Roger was a force of one. Eventually, my discouragement got the better of me. I went out less and less; I stayed home and drank more and more. Knowing that Roger was out there having so much success sent me to seek what gratification I could, wallowing in online porn as I went through case after case of PBR tallboys. Did Roger notice? I think he did, but didn't know quite what to do about it. He "forgot" to pick up beer a couple of times when he went out shopping. But the grocery store was only a few blocks away; he'd go out on dates, I'd go buy a case of beer, and became better about taking out the recycling before he got home. It will seem hard to believe but I didn't know what to do with myself, until.... * * * * * How do I begin with this? My dive into drinking and porn really started to begin near the end of June, and at first it was more of a lark. A way to experience some gratification even if it wasn't the kind or quality that Roger was experiencing. It was a stop-gap, a one-off, nothing's happening tonight, I'll go out tomorrow, right? Only tomorrow you do the same thing. One such night was the night before the 4th of July. I'm not sure where Roger was, but our college town was a little sleepier than usual, so many people having taken advantage of a longer than usual holiday weekend to leave town. I'd been feeling down all weekend. Maybe it was because Roger had skipped our first Friday movie night for the first time in... I couldn't remember how long ago. It upset me, I admit. Philly's was dead, as it had been all weekend, so I came home, turned on the TV, cracked open a beer, and popped open the laptop. I lose time when I indulge in porn. Between the beer and the hardcore vids, it was 11 o'clock before I knew it. I went to pee, and when I came back, there it was on a corner of the coffee table--the transformation stone. After Roger had used it at the beginning of June, I had picked up the stone with an old kitchen towel. After seeing what it did to Roger, I didn't want to touch it. I wrapped it up in the towel, then slipped it into a seldom used drawer in the coffee table. It was that half- forgotten drawer where you keep the original remotes you never use, batteries, a half used pad of post-it notes, and, for some reason, a half-dozen nearly dead ballpoint pens. We only ever opened the drawer when we needed a change of batteries. I think that's why I put the stone there, to hide and forget about it. And that had worked, I had almost forgotten about it despite living with Roger, who was the direct result of the stone's power. But there it was, sitting on the corner of the coffee table, glowing a faint pink in the full moon's light. Its appearance spooked me. It was in the drawer, how did it get out? Had it been out this entire time? Had Roger left it there to prime it in the moon light before he was going to use it later tonight? Or did it just get out on its own? I stared at it for a few minutes, my beer-numbed mind trying to think what to do. In the end, I opened the coffee table drawer and got out the old dish towel. I dropped it over the transformation stone, wrapped it up, and stowed it in the very back of the drawer. I sat back down on the couch and reached for my laptop, but the mood had passed. I downed a final beer then went to bed. The transformation stone's sudden appearance freaked me out, and the incident stuck in my head over the next few days. I meant to talk to Roger about it, but he must have gotten *really* lucky, cause I didn't see him again till after the 4th. By that time, I'd pretty much forgotten about it. What happened did occasionally pop into my head during the following week, but it always slipped my mind again before I could talk about it with Roger. * * * * * By the end of July, my stop-gap, one-off for a Friday night had become an almost daily habit, and I was becoming more and more depressed by it. I was aware my life was spiraling down into a very unhealthy place, but I was so bored--no, that's not right... *disappointed*--by my life that I kept doing it to distract myself rather than think about my present circumstances. It became an act I begrudgingly performed every evening; I wanted to do something else, but could never quite motivate myself. Even when I tried to distract myself by going out to the movies or spending a night at Philly's, I would end up coming home and still pounding a few beers while taking a tour of my favorite porn sites. I had made up my mind that starting August 1st, I was going to go cold turkey. For awhile at least, just to get my bearings back. When I woke up that morning, which was a Tuesday, Roger was making breakfast for his lady friend, something he didn't often do. I slipped into the bathroom to shower then slipped back into my room. I dressed and went out into the living room. They were still in the kitchen, chatting, flirting. She was cute and curvy--she was the girl who came closest to being the embodiment of Roger's two types. "Hey man," Roger greeted me. "Hey." "Hi, I'm Rachel," she greeted me. "Nice to meet you," I said. "Could I get a cup of coffee?" I asked Roger. He poured me one. Rachel glanced at her phone. "Oh, I need to get going. I've got to take my roommate to an appointment." "OK, see you tonight." Roger said, giving her a kiss before she left. "She seems nice," I said. "Nice and naughty, and then nice again," Roger answered. I rolled my eyes. Roger finished his coffee. "I'm going to hit the shower. What you got going on today?" "Library. I've almost finished with my summer project. Once I get it in, I've got nothing left to do for the rest of this semester." "Lucky you," he said. "I'm going to crash before going out with Rachel tonight." "Yeah, yeah." I didn't care, really. I ate some breakfast and watched "The Price Is Right". When it was over, I could hear Roger snoring in his room. I hung around the apartment till noon, then went to the library. I was there longer than I expected, but finished revising the paper for my summer project, and emailed it off to my advisor just before the library closed at 5pm. I was starved so I swung by Philly's for dinner and a few beers. I stayed at Philly's longer than I expected, too. It was around 7:30 when Roger and Rachel came in. They took a table, I was at the bar. Roger waived for me to join them, but I'd already paid my check. I stopped by their table and chatted a bit. Rachel went to the bathroom. Roger watched Rachel's ass as she sashayed away. "Well, have a good night," I said to Roger. "Yeah," he said. "Don't wait up for me." "Never do," I said and left. Back at the apartment, I downed a glass of water, hit the bathroom, then popped open a PBR tallboy. I turned on the TV to ESPN, pulled out my laptop, plugged it in, and started surfing my favorite porn sites. It got dark outside, I drank more beer. I tested the capacity and strength of my bladder, managing to hold off for three hours before I absolutely had to hit the head. Once in there, I took the opportunity to have a good yank, too. I washed my hands and avoided my reflection in the mirror, something I'd been doing more and more. I got another beer. I was celebrating I told myself, I'd just bought myself a month free of responsibilities. I deliberately avoided thinking about how I was going to spend that month. I checked the time on the microwave, 11:11. I went back to the living room, ready to continue my surfing session. That's when I saw it. The living room was dark save for the light from the TV, my laptop, and the intense pink glow of the transformation stone, sitting on the coffee table corner right where I'd found it a month ago. It sat in a pool of bright, bright moonlight streaming in through the open balcony glass doors. I felt a strange attraction and repulsion to it. I stared at it for what felt like an hour but could have only been a minute or two. "What do you want?" I muttered aloud. I sat down on my couch and set my beer can on the table. I couldn't take my eyes off the glowing stone. My mouth was dry, and I felt a temptation and a nervous anxiousness, like I couldn't trust myself. Should I touch it? Should I try it? I took a deep breath. I knew what it could do. But what was it Roger had said when he's used it. "The magic requires the presence of a second person to witness the transformation. To be the fulcrum from one reality to the next." Roger wasn't coming home tonight. In which case, it would be safe. I closed my laptop and sat back on the couch taking my beer in hand. I watched SportsCenter, drinking my beer, and debating what to do. Wrap the transformation stone back up in a kitchen towel? Or pick it up and see what it was like? I finished my beer. I was drunk. It was glowing a bright, bright pink in the moonlight. I slowly, deliberately reach for it. Didn't it glow blue for Roger? I picked it up. There was a strange rush humming through my body. When I drew it close, it came out of the moonlight, and the humming faded. "That's right, moonlight," I muttered. I stood up and moved to the balcony glass door. The humming from the stone intensified. It was both pleasant and unsettling. A summer breeze was coming into the apartment. I closed my eyes, visualizing my perfect body. I could see myself both from within my own body and without, like watching yourself in a mirror, only you could see yourself from the mirror image too. I had the same lean, powerful physique like Roger's body, only wiry. My jawline became harder, more prominent. My patchy beard filled out. My ears pinned back--I always thought they stuck out a bit too much. My legs bulked up with muscle. And, of course, my cock swelled to pornstar proportions. My mind sharpened, my intellect grew as did my confidence. Everything I did not like about myself, I changed. I'd be at ease with the ladies. My metabolism would work at peak efficiency, no longer having to worry about what I ate or drank. The ability to get drunk but wake up the next morning without a hangover. It was all I could ever dream.... I smiled at the new me. Then opened my eyes and the transformation stone slipped from my hand. It fell to the carpet with a heavy thump. I was breathing deeply. I could have it, and I resolved to make it happen next full moon. I'd make Roger stay home, return the favor I'd given him. I sat back down on the couch, breathing deeply, and opened up my laptop. When was the next full moon? At the end of the month, a blue moon, a supermoon like tonight. The transformation stone was still glowing, maybe even brighter than it had a few minutes ago. I went out to the balcony and looked at the moon. It was so big and bright--is that what's meant by a "supermoon"? That must be it, I thought. Meanwhile, I felt the transformation stone's hum even more intensely, drawing me to it, wanting me to hold it again. I couldn't resist; I wanted to feel its power again, even if.... I picked it up and let its humming oscillate through my very being. It had now gone beyond being merely pleasant--it was full on intoxicating. It was making me horny as hell; my cock growing hard. Then a wicked, lascivious thought came into my mind, and I knew the transformation stone could show it to me. What would Roger's perfect woman be like? I closed my eyes. Once again, I was watching within and without my body. She was a short cutie, only about 5'2", maybe even a bit shorter, yet her legs were wonderfully contoured, nice calves, plump thighs. She was beautifully curvy: wide, round hips and a full, heart-shaped ass. Her waist was narrow but with a plush belly, making for a deep navel in which sat a gleaming ruby piercing. Her arms were nicely toned. Her face was the very epitome of anime-waifishness: big, sparkling brown eyes, long lashes, a cute upturned nose, slender neck, a full luxurious mane of scarlet hair; the only exception to this animeness being her thick cupid-bow lips. Being a redhead she had a delicious strawberries-and- cream complexion. Her boobs were very large for her size, too large for her frame really, making her back arch slightly. Somehow I knew Roger would have her shoulders and back be preternaturally strong to compensate. Her nipples while not large were prominent with well defined areola. Her pussy was not just waxed but completely hairless, a satiny smooth, plush vulva crowned with a plump clitoris, and oh, how I knew it was sooooooo sensitive. Standing there naked, the body reminded me of a Pre-Raphaelite nymph. To this body, I saw clothing materialize: first, a red lace thong panties, tight against the labia, beautifully framing her ass; next, a matching red lace bra, more substantial than the panties, of course. I could feel the cups, the underwire, shape those luscious, heavy breasts. The band and straps tight around the ribs and shoulders. Denim micro-mini skirt was next, her beautiful ample cheeks peaking out at the hem. High heeled sandals further accentuated her legs and ass. Finally, a tight, low-cut crop top materialize, a rosy pink in color with cap sleeves, that showed both her sexy tummy and her full, voluptuous cleavage. It made me extremely horny to not only see her, but to be her. I breathed in, felt every cubic millimeter of her body, so sensual. Her mind was sharp, bright, oh so smart, but also--I felt a giggle, was it me or her?--nice and naughty and nasty, but mostly nice. There were so many other sensations I felt but couldn't make sense.... Then, I heard it--a key in the lock, the apartment door popped open. I opened my eyes. Roger was there, staring at me with the transformation stone in my hand. Time stopped for a beat. I knew I had to make a decision right then: either I said yes to everything I was feeling, or say no, go back to being Steve, and these last few moments would be lost forever; the transformation stone was not going to let me have again what I had once rejected. I could have had anything I wanted in that moment. Of course, looking back I know Roger couldn't see what I was experiencing, but it was so intense that I though everyone must know. All I had to do was drop the transformation stone and have my life back. Instead, I squealed-- "YES!" Once again, as it had two months ago, all of the buzzing, vibrations, light, and energy in the room folded and twisted and scrunched into a maelstrom, only this time it was inside and around me. I felt like I was being turned inside out and twisted and warped in the most delightfully delicious way. New sensations welled up throughout my body, shaping and morphing my entire being. My legs shrank, my hips widened, my ass blossomed, my mind scrambled. Soft, silky hair crowned my head, brushed down my shoulders. I arched my back as I could feel my breasts rise, expand, grow. My genitals shifted from male to female. My flip-flops changed shape, pushing up my heels while my toes stayed down. My t-shirt and cargo shorts refashioned themselves. I could feel it all build to a massive crescendo that felt like every cell in my body simultaneously climaxed in orgasm. Reality snapped into its new shape. The humming faded, and the night was once again calm. The transformation stone fell from my grasp. My body felt exhausted, my legs weak. I teetered for a split second. Roger rushed to my side, catching me as I collapsed. "Steve! Oh my, God, Steve!" "I think you better call me Stephanie now." I said. A giggle escaped from me. My voice was a sexy, high-pitched coo. I loved hearing it. I plopped my big ass onto the couch, pulling Roger down with me. "What did you do?" Roger asked. What had I done? I still wasn't sure. Roger went into the kitchen and ran me a glass of water. I took a deep breath. I could feel my breasts rise and fall, the tight band of the bra around my ribs. They were heavier than I had imagined, but I already love them for that. Loved how they felt. Roger handed me the glass of water. I noticed how petite and delicate my hands were as I took the glass. My nails were perfectly manicured, polished pink. I took a sip. I looked up at him. There was an incredulous look upon his face. I returned what I imagined to be a coy expression, and took another sip of water. Roger sat down on the couch, leaving space between us. "I didn't think you'd be coming home." "Yeah, well Rachel's roommate had a bad break-up tonight; she needed to console her without any dudes around." "Oh." I took another deep breath then sipped my water again. "What were you thinking?" I told him about how I'd come home to watch TV and drink more beer. "And other things....", he said. His gaze fell on my open laptop; there was a well known porn site on the screen, the video paused on a big breasted blonde riding a stud beneath her. "And other things," I said, closing my laptop. "I went to the bathroom and when I came back the transformation stone was there, on the corner of the coffee table." I then told him what had happened last month during full moon. How I'd wrapped it in a kitchen towel again and tucked it away in the drawer. How tonight it was glowing so intensely, so bright, that it tempted me to pick it up. How I thought I'd be safe since I wasn't suppose "to wait up". How I first visualized a porn stud body for myself, and then, I guess, the thought of a hot porn chick came into my mind. I didn't tell him the real thought that led to my metamorphosis; our conversation was already awkward enough. "Anyway," I said. "We can just use the stone to change me back, the moon is still up." "It only works once every full moon, remember. Then it needs a month to recharge. I told you that back in June." "Right, I forgot." I said. "I guess we'll have to wait for the next one." I tried to sound more concerned than I was. The idea of being in this hot, sexy body for a month thrilled me. "Yeah, I guess," Roger replied. I looked down demurely and took another sip of water. Somehow I could feel Roger's gaze on me, lingering on my cleavage. I made a nervous gesture where I tried to cover some of my cleavage by pulling up the fabric of my top. All it really did was emphasize how big my new breasts truly were. Roger noticed, trying to casually look away. I gave a small smile that I was sure he didn't notice. "So what do we do?" I asked him. He was frozen a moment. "I'm not sure, where's your wallet?" "In my purse on the kitchen counter," I said naturally. Wait? I had a purse? Roger, it seemed, had the same thought. He went over to the counter and fished out my wallet. He pulled out my driver's license, looked at it, then showed it to me. There was my picture, my height: 5'1", hair: red, eyes: brown, name: Stephanie Joy Hart. "Guess we're the only ones who remember you as Steve." "And you as Regina." It was the first time I'd said that name since he changed two months ago. He collapsed on the couch, this time a little closer to me than before. He rubbed his face, thinking. It had been building subconsciously, I realized, but then it suddenly dawned on me how attracted I was to Roger. On an objective scale, he was probably a 7 or 8; but to me he was a 14. I could feel myself getting my first lady-boner. "It's OK," I said. I reached over with a consoling rub on his back. "Everything will be fine." He didn't seem to be paying any attention to me; I needed him to pay attention to me. "Hey, Roger... It's OK," I cooed. His hands dropped from his face. "Maybe Esmerelda can help. We can go see her first thing tomorrow...." Somehow I knew that wouldn't help. I continued rubbing Roger's back. He was lost in thought. Even though he was thinking about me, about our situation, I felt ignored. "Look at me," I commanded. He looked up, his eyes met mine. I had him, our gazes locked. I moved a bit off the couch, never breaking eye contact, and settled myself in his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I spread my legs till the crotch of my panties rested on the fly of his jeans. I was sooo warm and moist. Once settled, I gave him a coy little smile then moved in. Our lips locked in a tentative kiss that grew more passionate; I pushed my tongue into his mouth. His hands went to my waist. After a few minutes of making out, Roger asked, "Should we be doing this?" I drove my snatch further into his crotch, and whispered, "Yes." We continued making out. His hands moved up to my breasts, groping them through my top and bra. I rolled my hips slowly once, twice, so he could feel the full weight of my big round ass. Roger's kisses moved down my neck to my cleavage; he buried his face there, and moaned. He turned his head to free his mouth. "Perfect." "What?" I gasped. "Your breasts." I pressed his head fully into my perfect pillows. His fingers found my pert nipples, pinching, twisting. I gave a yelp. I pushed slightly away from him. "Baby," I said, "take me to your room." He nearly dumped me onto the floor the way he suddenly jumped up, but his arms caught me. Then, taking me by the hand, he led me to his room. Inside, he stripped off his shoes, shirt, and jeans with a quick, remarkable efficiency, then plopped onto his bed. I stepped out of my high heels, then pulled off my top--it was so tight it nearly took my bra with it. I readjusted, slipped down my skirt, so snug against my hips and bum, then sidled up next to Roger on his bed. We embraced and kissed passionately. I pushed up firmly against him, my bra-clad breasts pressed agains his chest. His cock rock hard, tented his boxers and rubbed against me as we made out, our bodies building to a boil. I rolled him on his back underneath me and broke off our kissing. I looked down on him with a cheeky grin. I ran my hands through my hair, then over his chest. I bent down and began to kiss his neck, moving down to his firm pecs, his ribs, hard abdomen, down to his boxers. I curled my fingers into his waistband and pulled it down. Curls of pubic hair began to appear. His proud, strong cock burst forth. It was magnificently big, perfectly formed. I gave a play acted gasp. "It's sooooo biiiig! May I kiss it?" "YES!" he growled looking down at me. Once again, locking eyes, I took his cock in my right hand and kissed its tip. With a series of pecks, I took the tip of his penis into my mouth. I then broke away my gaze and began concentrating on engulfing his entire shaft. His girth stretched my lips, my mouth but somehow I was able to take him deep, working deeper. I gave his cock a loving sheen of warm saliva. "Ohhhhhhh," he moaned. He brought his right hand to the back of my head and gently aided me. I reached the gag reflex and had to back off for a moment, then worked my way past it. My lips met his scrotum. I gave his balls a gentle squeeze, then worked my way back out. His cock popped out of my mouth. A string of saliva ran from my lips to its tip. I quickly returned to giving his cock my careful ministrations. I could feel him building, could taste the pre-cum. I so wanted to push him over the edge; I wanted him to be the first to orgasm, but he resisted. I released his cock. "What?" he muttered, looking down at me. I smiled and then, in a very deliberate and theatrical manner, reached back and unclasped my bra. It was so tight, it practically jumped off my frame giving me a mild shock. I slipped it off to reveal my beautiful big breasts in all their glory to my lover. Seeing his expression, I knew I now had the upper hand. I buried his cock in my plush cleavage. He was big, but I was big, too--together, we were the perfect fit. I now began to act on an instinct that I'd been unaware of possessing-- breasts, lips, tongue, hands all working in concert to bring that beautiful cock to sweet, sweet ejaculation. His muttering grew louder and louder as he neared the release point. "Oh, God.... Oh, God.... Oooooooooh, God.... Oooooooooh, Goooooooood.... OOOOOOOOOH, GOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!" He blew his load just as I deep throated him. I nearly chocked on the first blast of cum. He spurted five, six times, half of which ended up in my mouth, the rest splattered my face and tits. I leaned in and opened my mouth to show how much of his spunk was there, then made an ostentatious act of swallowing it down. I loved it: the smell, the taste, the thick, sticky texture. I loved having something of my lover inside me. Roger took a series of deep breaths. "Oh, God." He reached down next to the bed and pulled up a bath towel. He offered it to me, "Here." I didn't take it at first; instead, I used my fingers to wipe away the larger deposits of sperm on my skin. Once that had been taken care of, I sucked off each finger, then took the towel and ran over my face and body. He kissed me so hard it was almost violent. He rolled me under him and began to vigorously kiss my breasts, sucking, licking, nibbling on my nipples. I lost myself in the exquisite sensitivity of my new body. His attention to my breasts went on for almost too long, but once they were fantastically primed, he move down to my belly. "Where did this come from?" he whispered, fondling my belly piercing. "It just came with all of this. Do you like it?" I whispered back. "I love it." He took it in his lips, slipped his tongue behind it into my belly button. Then began moving south to my lacy panties. I loved the feel of his lips against their taut fabric. Then I felt him hook his fingers around my waist straps and slip them off my hips. I was naked, my new body gloriously naked in front of my lover. He kissed my thighs then worked his way slowly, with tiny lip pecks, to my labia, my mons, to my firm, anxious lady boner. He pushed back its hood, blew on it than gave it the full attention it needed--lips, tongue, nibbles--made me squirm and squeal uncontrollably. I could feel my first female orgasm building. I grabbed the back of my lover's head and pushed him into my pussy. His fingers penetrated me, and soon I became lost in the sensations ministered to my ripe, juicy pussy. I screamed and I saw stars then the world blacked out for a hot second. "OH GOD... OH GOD... Oh God... Oh God," I muttered trying to recover. Roger moved up my body, and we began kissing again. I could taste myself on his lips and tongue. Roger's stiff cock was pressing against my thighs--I spread them apart. "Fuck me," I said between kisses. "How... are... you... this... horny?" he answered. "Shhh, baby... shhh... Fuck me." He reached for the drawer in his nightstand, and pulled out a condom. I smacked it away. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I don't want anything coming between me and my lover during our first time together." "What if you...?" "I've been a woman for like 30 minutes; I don't think I've had time to ovulate yet." He cracked that wicked grin, and it was wickeder than I'd ever seen it before. He realigned his hips and without warning plunged into me and then began to steadily build his rhythm. I moaned encouragement but was unable to do little else. I was lost in the soft pleasures of my new body; I came quickly, and soon another one was building--it was incredible. Roger pulled out. "NO! DON'T," I yelped. He just grinned and pulled me up, repositioned me on all fours. He plunged in again. He gathered my red hair and firmly pulled it, lifting up my head. He had positioned us right in front of the full-length mirror in his room; I could see him pounding me from behind, my lovely heavy breasts hanging down, jiggling in rhythm to our fucking. I lowered my arms just a bit so my nipples would rub against the bedsheets. I had to grit my teeth with all the new sensations I was experiencing. "Do you like fucking me?!" I gasped. "Do you like fucking me?! Do you like fucking my tight, juicy pussy. DO YOU?!" Roger slapped my ass in answer. He was pounding me furiously now. *fap* *fap* *fap* *fap* I could feel another orgasm building. *fap* *fap* *fap* *fap* He pulled out again. "Come on," Roger said. "I need to see those big titties bouncing up down on my cock." He lied down and pulled me on top. I took his cock in my left hand and guided it to my pussy. I pushed myself down on it. "God, you're BIG!" "You LOVE it!" He gave me that wry smile I both loved and hated. I was determined to make him cum. All of the porn I'd been watching now helped. I bounced up and down on Roger, rolling my hips, driving his dick as deep as it could go inside me. Roger slapped my ass again then reached up to cup my breasts. I slapped them away playfully, adding a new vigor to my fucking. My breasts bobbing with each bounce of my body. I could tell I was having an effect, could hear Roger groaning and grunting. I found a new well of strength. I pushed down his shoulders, pinning him beneath me. I needed to dominate Roger. "You're going to cum inside me, baby. You're going to cum inside me. I NEED TO FEEL YOU EXPLODE INSIDE ME!" Without any further hesitation, I rocked my lover till his sweet, sweet cock erupted, and I screamed in response. I could feel his hands on my hips holding me steady, till he'd finished, then I slipped off to the side. I hugged Roger hard, making sure to press my breasts into him--I loved how they pillowed between us--then I gave him a long passionate French kiss, so long and hard he had to push me away to catch his breath. "You... *huff* need... *huff* to control... *huff* yourself...." "OK, lover," I cooed. We kissed again, and then spooned. I loved being wrapped in his arms, how he occasionally gave my boobs or pussy a grope. I fell asleep but woke just before sunrise. At first, I thought everything had been a dream till I felt the jiggle of my breasts. Yes, I was obsessed with them, but they were the biggest reminders of my new life. I felt so blissful. Roger had turned away from me in his sleep. I spooned him this time as well as I could being the smaller partner. Again, I hugged him tight to pillow my breasts between us. I felt for his cock--it was hard, and I hoped he was dreaming of me. I gave him a good groping in hopes he was either awake or I could awake him, but he just kept snoozing, and, in a few minutes, I joined him. * * * * * I awoke naked and alone in Roger's bed. I stretched out and took a deep breath to clear my head. I could hear activity in the kitchen and smell the faint scent of coffee brewing. I sat up and gave a little gasp as the weight of my breasts shifted. I took them in my hands. "You girls are heavy," I muttered, then gave both nipples a little tweak. My stomach growled, and I realized just how hungry I was, and also how badly I needed to pee. I crept out of Roger's room down to the bathroom, and took a seat. Once finished, I debated whether I should take a shower or not. I was feeling a little too sticky in places I wasn't used to feeling that way, so I turned on the water. I tied my hair up then stepped in. There were a few changes I noticed: two different sets of shampoo and conditioner bottles, three different bottles of body wash, and a loofa, which was new. I used the body wash and loofa to give myself a good scrubbing, spending extra time on my new assets. It felt really good to get clean, though not as good as getting dirty. Once, I'd rinsed myself off, I turned the water off, wrapped myself in a towel, then headed to my room. It was different, of course. This shouldn't have been a surprise given I knew how the whole warped reality thing worked at this point. Most everything about my room was different. First, I really liked pink it seemed. The sun was high enough that it was illuminating my Venetian blinds. Yesterday, they'd been ivory, now they were a blush rose, tinging the light that came in a pretty pink. The walls were painted pink. My duvet and bed sheets were pink, too. It was a nice color; it made me feel... , nice, cute, girly. I dropped my towel and looked myself over in my full length mirror. Oh. My. God. I was a gorgeous, curvy, buxom beauty. My red hair was a messy mass of steam-cleaned bed head, but somehow I thought that just made me look sexier. I posed in front of the mirror for a few minutes, giving myself a good once, twice, thrice over. I was getting another girl-boner just from looking at myself. I sat down at my vanity (I had a vanity?), and brushed out my hair. Should I put on make-up, I wondered. My stomach growled again. I can do that later, I thought, and looked around for something to wear. I saw a balled up t-shirt by my bed and picked it up. It was an oversized pink Hello Kitty ringer tee that clung to my curves with my nipples were on full display. The bottom hem barely covered my ass and pussy. Just walking the few steps from one side of the bed to the other, it rode up and revealed a tantalizing glimpse of my new plush nether lips. Perfect, I thought. I walked out to the kitchen, feeling a little self-conscious for the first time. Roger and I hadn't really talked since my transformation, what with all the fucking and all. Roger was busy frying up bacon and hash browns. "Who does a girl have to fuck to get a cup of coffee around here," I said, trying for a light tone in my voice. I sat down at the kitchen counter where we took our meals. "Oh, hey!" Roger said with genuine enthusiasm. He poured me a cup and set it in front of me, giving me a casual kiss. "Do you want eggs?" He put the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of cream in front of me. "No," I answered. Watching him cook was making me horny again. It seemed everything about Roger made me horny. Roger portioned hash browns and bacon to two plates, and two fried eggs to his own. He set the plates down between us and sat down. We began to eat. It was Roger who broke the silence. "So what really happened last night?" "We fucked... a lot." He smiled. "I know. Before that." I took a deep breath. "I've been feeling pretty down lately," I said, the words were hard to speak but still came insistently to my mouth. I had to tell him all. "You've been tearing such a swath through the ladies that I started getting depressed. You were a better man than me and only a man for a few weeks, too. I've been drinking a lot, watching a lot of porn. Then last night the transformation stone appeared. Just sitting there charging up in the moonlight. I didn't think you'd be coming home so I wanted to experience what it was like. Without anyone here, there was no danger, right? So I picked it up and thought what it would be like to have a perfect male body. And I saw it, and I thought, yes, this is what I want. I let the transformation stone slip from my hands intent on making arrangements with you for me to use it next full moon. I was all ready to put it away, but then a curious, wicked idea came to my mind. I wonder what your perfect woman would be like. So I picked it up again with that thought in mind. I saw what she would look like, feel like, think like, and then you walked in. I only had a split second to decide--drop the stone and wait a month for stud Steve, or...." I looked down embarrassed and shrugged. Roger looked at me. I could see in his eyes the conflicting feelings he was experience. "So you wanted to be...?" "Yes," I answered, and the rest poured out of me. "In those moments holding the stone, I could feel how incredibly sexy and sensual this body would be. It felt sooooooo GOOD." My arms squeezed my breasts together. My nipples hard, pert. "In that moment, I wanted to be your perfect woman; I NEEDED to be your perfect woman. I think that's why I was so uncontrollable last night." I looked up at Roger. There was a strange, anxious look on his face. I gave him a wicked smile; I had cracked the code. "Of course... I'm your perfect woman. That's why I'm so attracted to you; so in LOVE with you. I'm your perfect woman, your perfect lover.... You're my perfect man, my perfect lover. Oh my god, that's it." I pulled up the bottom hem of my t-shirt, fully revealing my pussy. "Stephanie--" "You WANT me right now, don't you?" I continued, putting my hand on his thigh. "You NEED me. You know that there's no one else on this earth who turns you on as much as I do." I slid my hand up to his crotch. It was hard and getting harder. I bit my lower lip in flirtatious frustration. "Every other girl pales in comparison to me." "This is weird," he said. "I didn't ask for this...." "You're still getting so HARD" I said, giving his crotch a squeeze, arching my back, pushing forward my breasts. "You're a very sexy girl...." he murmured. "ROGER," I said, "Don't you want me?" With a gentle tug of my arm, he pulled me into his embrace--a passionate kiss that tasted of coffee, bacon, eggs.... "Take me back to your room!" He gathered me in his arms and took me back to his room. He tossed me gently onto the bed, stripped, and was on top of me in a flash. We made out, intensely, almost violently. He made to take off my t-shirt, but I wouldn't let him. "Rip it off me," I demanded, and I loved hearing the fabric tearing. We fucked again. And then again. Once finished, we cuddled and spooned. "Oh God, You ARE perfect," he whispered into my ear. And that's how we came to be Roger & Stephanie. Any desire for me to become Steve again passed after that second fucking session. I'm still learning what it means to be his perfect woman. In one way, it's pretty basic: I'm pretty much his ultra-monogamous nympho girlfriend. I need sex a lot but I can only want it from Roger. He can barely keep up with me, but he does manage it, gladly, and it's nice to know that I dictate those terms. But the important thing is how happy we are. These past few weeks since I used the transformation stone have been the best of my life, and I know Roger feels the same way. We've been one of those annoying couples who are always hanging out together. Last night was the blue moon, and we used the transformation stone again; this time together to make a few things... better. It's good to know, however, should we need anything else, we only have to wait for a full moon, and for that I'm so thankful. Next week, fall semester begins, and I can't wait to walk across campus hand-in-hand with my boyfriend. Roger really is the perfect roommate....