(Story) My Lesbian Boyfriend

[bane22]

Friday, 8:20 PM

The ride to the mall was quick and quiet. I spent most of it looking in the side-view mirror, going over the changes again and again. Sarah found a parking spot close to the entrance, we got out and headed to the main entrance. I stopped short of the door, as I could see through the glass that there were still quite a few people wandering around the various department stores. A sudden thought occurred to me: I was about to appear in public as a woman for the first time. I found myself feeling very self-conscious, and tried to straighten out my ill-fitting apparel as best as I could. My best friend must’ve sensed my nervousness, as she put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and guided me into the mall.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but our entrance went completely unnoticed. No one pointed and stared, there was no fanfare, and the roof didn’t fall in, so I guess we have that going for us. I took very deliberate steps, trying my best not to trip on my footwear. I hitched up my jeans as discreetly as I could, and fell in lockstep with Sarah. She guided me straight to a nearby boutique that seemed to specialize in young women’s attire.

To my mild surprise, she led me to a bench in the back of the store near the dressing rooms. “Wait here,” she said softly. “We don’t want you stumbling around here and drawing attention. I’ll pick some outfits for you, and we can see where it goes.”

She treks off into the forest of clothing racks, so I take a seat on the bench. I find myself looking around, worrying about being somehow recognized. Fortunately, it seems to be a slow night for the store, as the other customers are few and far between. After a few restless minutes, Sarah returns with arms full of various garments. “OK, I lets head into one of the changing rooms.”

I follow her in obediently. She leads me into one of the larger rooms (probably intended for handicap use) and locks the door. “Alright, let’s get the awkward out of the way. Shirt off, I have to figure out what I’m working with.”

I feel my cheeks flush again, and I realize I’m probably going to be spending a lot of this weekend red-faced. I pull the hoody off and hang it on a hook. Then after a deep breath, I lift my shirt up and over, tossing it onto the seat at the far corner of the stall. I stand there, shirtless in front of my crush. She simply stares at my chest while rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Finally I say, “Well, have you figured out what size I am?”

She seems to snap out of her reverie. “Huh? Oh sorry, I got distracted by something….well, two somethings anyway.”

My shoulders slump. “Come on, be serious about this.”

She grins. “Oh come on, it’s not like I wasn’t going to see you like this at some point anyways. This is just like a sneak peak of what’s to come.”

In the mirror at the far end of the stall I can see my face has just gone fire-engine-red. Sarah picks through some of the clothes she gathered, and retrieves a red bra. “This should do nicely,” she says more to herself than me. She helps guide my arms through the straps, then pulls it closed behind me. The silky fabric of the bra feels wonderful, and my breasts no longer feel like they’re either just hanging or about to bounce off my torso. In fact they feel kinda nice.

“Wow,” I mumble.

“Always trust you tailor!” Sarah replies cheerfully. She returns to the pile and retrieves a matching set of red panties. “I’ll give you a little privacy for this part,” she says, then covers her eyes with her hands.

I unlace my sneakers and slip my feet out of my shoes and socks. I once again undo my belt and unzip my jeans and let them drop to the ground, along with my over-sized boxers. I step out of my old pants and underwear, and promptly slip on the panties. They feel a little tight, but not uncomfortably so. There’s lace sown into the sides, which gives a feeling of little to nothing there. I look in the mirror, and realize I look pretty damn hot. I also realize for the first time tonight, I’m completely free of my old clothes. I turn to look at my rear, and am pleased with how the new panties show it off. Finally finished and pleased with the results, I say to Sarah, “OK, what else you got for me?”

Sarah opens her eyes, and her smile beams at me. “Hey, looking good! Turn around for me!” I give her a quick turn like I’m on a modelling catwalk. “Nice! I have a couple other sets of lingerie here; that should give us a few days’ worth of options.” She turns back to the remaining clothes. “We’ll only pick up two or three outfits for you, but I want to take the opportunity to play a little dress up with you.” She grins fiercely. “Hope you don’t mind.”

I decide now is the time to unleash the sexy smile I found earlier in the bathroom mirror. “Sure, why not?” Sarah positively glows, as she begins pawing through the garments. She hands me the first outfit; a white tank top and cut-off jean shorts. The top practically clings to my body, showing off every curve, while the shorts show off my legs. I look in the mirror while Sarah is positively giddy with excitement. “Damn, I look good!” I say. It’s not an exaggeration either; the woman in the mirror is the sexiest I’ve ever seen. I’m surprised how comfortable everything fits too. It really boosts my mood, and I find myself getting into this even more.

“Yeah, you do!” Sarah agrees. “But we probably won’t get this outfit. It’s a bit too cold for shorts. I just wanted a good look at those legs.”

I extend my left leg like I’m a hitchhiker. “Like what you see?” I ask, surprised at how playful I’m being.

To my astonishment, Sarah actually blushes. In the two years I’ve know her, I’ve never seen that happen. We look into each other’s eyes. For a moment, it feels like my heart is going to leap out of my chest. The room feels warm, and my right hand unconsciously traces a line up my left arm. After a moment, Sarah clears her throat, and begins looking through other outfits.

The next outfit is a slinky black cocktail dress, literally the definition of the ‘little black dress’ stereotype. Despite its simple appearance, this one takes a bit of help from Sarah to put on. There’s a zipper hidden along the side, and it clings tightly to my body. The struggle is worth it however, as the resulting reflection I see could be on the cover of a fashion magazine. The hem stops at my upper thighs, the neckline plunges down to give an ample view of my cleavage, and everything in between clings tightly enough that it leaves very little to the imagination about my overall shape. I spin around in front of the mirror several times, taking in every detail I can. Sarah seems even more pleased. “I’m not sure how often you’ll get to wear that,” she says lustfully, “but I’m buying you that one.”

“No argument here,” I reply. I realize in that moment just how into this I’m getting. I start to wonder if maybe my magical transformation is starting to get to my mind somehow. I picture what is generally accepted as a hot guy, but feel absolutely nothing. I turn to face Sarah, who is facing away from me, bent over the pile of clothes she gathered. I take a moment to admire her firm buttocks, and take solace in the fact that my sexual preferences seem intact at least.

Next on the dress-up menu is a pair of white leggings and an emerald-green sweater. This outfit isn’t as sensational as the others have been, but it’s quite a bit more practical for the seasonal weather. Still, the leggings show off my calves and thighs, and the sweater isn’t so bulky as to preclude my upper assets. I give my tacit approval for this one, and Sarah agrees.

The last outfit is a bit more traditional. A black t-shirt with hot-pink highlights, and a pair of skinny jeans. This feels more like a regular ‘walking around’ kind of garb, and I immediately feel comfortable. “I think this is what I should wear out,” I say, taking a few steps around the booth.

“My thoughts exactly,” Sarah nods in agreement. She hands me a pair
of ankle-socks, which fit just right. She tears the tags off everything I’m wearing, then puts all the clothes she’s buying into a pile. She folds up my old jeans, t-shirt, socks and boxers, and puts them with the clothes she’s buying. “There’s a shoe store a few doors down. Until then, you’ll have to hang onto your old sneaks for a bit longer.”

I lace up my sneakers one more time. The fitted socks help a bit, but it still feels weird wearing the wrong-sized shoes. We leave the changing booth, and stop at the counter, where Sarah pays for the dress, sweater, leggings, lingerie, and the clothes I’m currently wearing. The cashier bags up the outfits, and Sarah tosses my old clothes into the bag with them.

We head back out into the mall, and I immediately feel a lot less self-conscious. I begin to realize a lot of my anxiety was from wearing my old clothes. Now I feel like my old self, but like I’m wearing a mask, hidden and unrecognized by all around me (even though none of the strangers in the mall would have any idea who I was in my untransformed state to begin with).

As we approach the shoe store, a thought occurs to me. “You’re not going to get me like stiletto heels or something, are you?” I ask cautiously.

Sarah giggles. “No, for your first time out, we’ll keep it simple.”

She leads me into the store and we stop at the women’s section. After a bit of hunting, Sarah finds one of the foot measuring tools. I slip out of my old sneakers, and measure out a size 6.5 (a far cry from my usual size 9, though I’m not sure how that translates from men’s size to women’s). Sarah turns to the racks of shoeboxes, and returns with a pair of lady’s Chuck Taylors. Opening the box, I see to my surprise they’re a generic black. “No pink?” I ask, figuring I’d be in for the girliest shoes possible.

“These’ll match with more outfits. Good to go versatile for your first pair of shoes.”

I arch an eyebrow. “How many shoes am I going to need?”

Sarah laughs, then leans in and whispers, “I know you haven’t been a woman for long, but trust me, this is like a girl’s rite of passage. More shoes is better shoes.”

I smile, take the sneakers out of the box, and slip them onto my feet. The difference feels excellent, the sneakers fit snuggly, and for the first time since this adventure started, I feel properly dressed. My old shoes go into the box, and Sarah pays at the counter.

We step back into the mall, and I practically have a bounce in my step. I feel so girly I’m practically seeing unicorns and rainbows. “Wanna shop some more?” I ask cheerfully.

Sarah seems happy I’m enjoying myself. “Having a good time?” she asks.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m loving shopping!”

Sarah checks her watch. “Actually, I think the mall is closing soon.”

“Oh,” I say dejectedly. I’m sad the mall is closing, what is happening to me?

Sarah puts a reassuring arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time to play. For now, let’s head back to your apartment.”

I slip on my hoodie, which feels a bit large on me. Before I can say anything, Sarah reassures me, “Don’t worry, wearing boy’s hoodies is in style right now.”

We head back out to Sarah’s car, and I strap in. As Sarah starts the car, she asks, “So, feeling more at home?”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird. It’s like I know I’m not me, but I feel way more comfortable.”

Sarah laughs as she starts backing out of the parking space. “Retail therapy is totally a thing.”

“I’ll never mock it again.”

As Sarah starts the short drive home, I ask, “So what else are we doing tonight?”

“Nothing,” Sarah replied. “I’ll show you how to get ready for bed and all, but I want you to spend tonight getting used to your new body.”

“Really?” I ask, perhaps a bit disappointed.

“Trust me, I don’t want to crowd in on a new experience for you too much.” She gives me a quick mischievous grin. “Don’t get too used to it though. Tomorrow, you’re all mine.”

“Oh my god,” I mumble shyly as I look away, trying to hide the giant smile on my face. I catch another glimpse of myself in the sideview mirror. The new face is definitely growing on me, and I seem to be smiling a lot more. I find myself feeling I could get used to this.

[bane22]

(Note: Shorter chapter this time, but next chapter is shaping up to make up for it.)

Friday, 9:15 PM

We return to the apartment building without incident. As I approach my apartment door, Sarah runs off to her own place, calling back, “Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

I unlock my apartment and hang my hoody on the hook again. Even though I’ve lived in this apartment for about 2 years now, I feel like a new person stepping into a new home for the first time. I look around my apartment, taking in all the little details. The kitchen cabinets I used to be able to reach now require me to stand on my toes to open. I have to hop a short bit to touch the top of the door frame. Hopping makes my boobs jiggle a tiny bit within my bra. I give a few more experimental hops, smiling in amusement at the sensation. I return to the bathroom, and admire myself in the full-body mirror some more. Now that I’m wearing clothing tailored to my body type, the reflection looks far less alien to me. I don’t look like John with the wrong face, I look like Madison.

A courtesy knock at my open front door brings me back to the here-and-now. “Over here,” I call, realizing I’m even getting accustomed to my voice now.

Sarah walks in carrying a plastic basket. “Just can’t get away from reflective surfaces, can you?” she mockingly chides me. “I’d accuse you of vanity, but I can’t take my eyes off you either.”

I laugh. “Just out of curiosity, did you put some extra magic in your spell to make me look this good?”

She shakes her head. “I followed the spell to the letter. Whether this is just the female version of you, or the spell just makes everyone look this good is beyond me.” She hands me the basket. “Here, you’ll need this for tonight.”

Inside the basket is a variety of lotions, moisturizers, conditioners, body lotion, a shaving kit, and an index card. “The card has explanations for everything you’ll need to do before and after bed,” Sarah explains. “Since you only have two days, I don’t think you’ll need the shaving stuff, but if you want to be baby-smooth I sure as hell won’t complain.”

I look over the card. The instructions are arduous. “I need instructions for washing?”

The wry smile returns to Sarah’s face. “Have you ever washed a woman’s body before?”

“No,” I admit.

“These bodies of ours are delicate. They need a lot of maintenance to keep looking this good.” She hands me a black hair tie, then demonstrates how to tie my hair back. It takes a few tries, but eventually I manage to pull my new locks into a pony tail. There’s another slightly awkward pause between us. Finally, Sarah starts backing towards the bathroom entrance. “Alright, I’m gonna head back to my place for the night. Call me if you have any questions about the instructions.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stick around?” I ask before I even realize what I’m saying.

She looks down at the ground, then looks back up bashfully. “Trust me, I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first night. Besides, it’ll make tomorrow even more special.” There’s another long pause, then Sarah reluctantly says, “Goodnight, see you tomorrow.” She turns and leaves, and I hear the front door to my apartment shut.

Alone for the first time tonight, I find myself overwhelmed by the endless possibilities available to me. I decide to start with the face-washing regimen Sarah provided for me. My first attempt is sloppy, leaving big gobs of moisturizer on my face. I clean it off with a wash cloth, and my second attempt is much improved. The moisturizer feels a bit greasy, but I think I can get used to it.

I strip down to my underwear, and mull over whether to keep the bra on for bedtime. I decide it’s too constrictive, so with a bit of effort it joins the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. After spending some time practicing sexy poses in the mirror, I resolve to figure out what I’m wearing to bed tonight. I reject the idea of sleeping nude, figuring it would be a bit shocking to wake up to. After giving it some thought, I return to my bedroom, and grab one of my old t-shirts from my dresser. It drapes sufficiently on me to work as a nightie, and I decide to keep the panties on for a little extra cover. The hem of my shirt reaches down to about mid-thigh length, leaving my long legs exposed like a rockette’s.

I spend another hour or so, folding up my new outfit, strutting around my apartment, and just enjoying the new sensations this new body affords. I notice it’s much more sensitive; the worn dreylon of my old couch feels comfortably fuzzy to my new backside. On a whim, I put on some music (some old school Guns N’ Roses), and dance around for a bit. I never really danced much when I was a man, and I still don’t have much of a sense of rhythm, but I find the movements feel much more intense now. It’s like my body is just reacting on its own and it feels kinda good.

After sufficiently wearing myself out, I return to the bedroom, and curl up into bed. I decide to catch up on a little bit of reading, just so I can tell myself I did something academic this weekend. As I finish up the last page for the night, I once again am struck by how quickly I’m getting accustomed to my new self. By all rights, I should still be flailing around like a rag doll that suddenly has a skeleton. It takes me a bit to realize the answer to this: Sarah. This whole night she’s been there supporting me, providing guidance, and just being the rock I needed.

Of course, she was also the reason I’m in this situation, so I guess it balances out a bit in the long run. I toss my book onto the nightstand, switch off the light, pull the covers up and go to sleep.

[bane22]

Saturday, 9:57 AM

My eyes flutter open to the familiar site of my bedroom. Outside the wind is rustling through the trees, sending scattered autumn leaves to float lazily to the ground. I feel well-rested, and stretch my limbs underneath the covers. After lounging around, I finally push the covers off, and in my morning grogginess have the shock of my life as I see what’s underneath. It takes me a moment to remember what happened last night, and that the female body I’m sporting is normal.

With the panic subsiding, I take a moment to run my hands over my nightie-covered body. All the new curves are right where they should be, my breasts are as firm (and sensitive) as ever, and my ‘little buddy’ has been replaced with a ‘silken purse.’ I hop out of bed, surprised that the floor seems to take longer to meet my feet. It takes another moment to remember I’m several inches shorter than I used to be.

I skip over to the bathroom, and stop at the mirror (which I realize I’m spending a lot of time looking at myself, though it’s excusable under the circumstances). My hair is still tied into a pony tail from the night before, so I pull the hair tie from my head. My blonde locks spill free, and I flick them playfully around my neck. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling several knots apart that developed overnight.

I’ll spare the gruesome details of the morning bathroom routine. Suffice it to say, using the toilet was a new experience, and I spent much longer time in the shower, using hot and cold water at different times. I had to fight the urge to play with my boobs in the shower; the sight of water running down them was almost mesmerizing (I guess I can take comfort that I still have a guy’s mind). With my lengthy shower concluded, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my body, then my spare towel around my hair. It took my two tries to get the hair-wrap down, but eventually I got it.

I had finished securing my hair in its new towel-prison, when there was a knock on the front door. Without a second thought, I walked over and opened it. As I opened it, I belatedly remembered I’m dressed in nothing but bath towels. Fortunately, it was Sarah. She grins at me. “Oh good, you’re up,” she says, noticing what I was wearing. “Did you follow my washing instructions?”

“Sure did,” I reply cheerfully.

“Great. Come on over to my place, I’ve got something set up for us.”

I look both directions down the hallway outside my apartment. “Can I get dressed first?”

Sarah looks impatient. “It’s literally down the hall, just come on!” She grabs my hand, and I have just enough time to pull the door closed behind me (in hindsight, I forgot my keys, but it doesn’t matter since I also didn’t lock up). There’s a soft pitter-patter as my bare feet thump on the apartment’s hallway. We get to Sarah’s place, which is literally down the hall from us, and she lets me in.

Her apartment is slightly smaller than mine, but she’s done more with it. There are several planters scattered about, giving the place a splash of green to break up the beige wallpaper. Her couch is slightly nicer than mine, and is a deep purple upholstery. There are also two loungers along the far wall. Some kind of new age music is playing softly from a source I can’t see, and there’s a fragrance of lavender wafting in the air; I notice the aromatherapy candles a moment later.

“OK,” Sarah says, sounding a bit like a cruise activities director. “I originally thought about taking you to a day spa, but I feel like that would be a bit overwhelming, what with having strangers giving you massages and whatnot. So, I brought the spa to you. I’m going to make you all pretty, so we can have a nice first date tonight.”

I feel genuinely touched at the thought of doing all this for my sake. “This is really awesome of you,” I say to her. “Alright, what do I do first?”

“Well, I have a few more things to prepare,” she replies as she walks over to a shoe box sitting on the couch, “so you can start practicing with these.” She opens the box and takes out a pair of stylish looking black heels.

I arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said you weren’t going to start me with heels.”

“That was last night. Tonight, I want you wearing that little dress we got for you. Wearing these will help complete the look.” She puts the footwear in my hands. “Don’t worry, we won’t do much walking around, or anything complicated. Just think of it like you’re balancing on the front of your feet, and you’ve got something stuck to your heels.”

After helping me put the shoes on, she heads off to her kitchen, and starts working on something. I awkwardly flail about for a few minutes, and come close to toppling once or twice, but eventually I’m walking well enough that I can at least make it short distances without falling on my face. I don’t exactly look elegant, but it’s not like this will be a long-term commitment or anything.

Sarah returns from the kitchen and smiles with satisfaction at my progress. “Looks like you’re getting the hang of it.”

“I won’t be entering any dancing contests, but it’ll do for the day. Are they supposed to pinch a little?”

“A little. They’re made to make you look good first, with comfort a distant second or third.” She walks past me to her bathroom, and emerges with a fluffy white robe. “This is my spare. I just washed it two days ago, and haven’t worn it since. You can slip into this one, and I’ll slip into my regular robe in the bathroom.”

I take the robe, and as soon as Sarah leaves I drop the towel from my body. I slip the robe on, and feel luxuriated in the softness. I don’t traditionally wear bathrobes, but I had one when I was a kid. If it had felt like this, I’d probably never take it off. It’s like wearing a fuzzy cloud, every inch caressing my skin.

Sarah walks out a few moments later dressed in a plaid robe of similar make as the one she gave me. “Just out of curiosity,” I ask, “is there something special about women’s bathrobes that make them feel this good, or is it just a girl thing?”

Sarah giggles. “Never underestimate the sensitivity of a girl’s body. Here, have a seat,” she says as she gestures to one of the recliners.

I take a seat in the recliner, and it seems to wrap around me. The robe rubs up on all the right places, and I feel incredibly relaxed. Sarah brings over a folding table and sets it next to my left side. Then she places two bowls filled with a white liquid in them. “First up, a nice paraffin treatment to prepare for your manicure.” She scoots a second table to my other side, and places another bowl. Finally she lifts my hand and gently dips it in the substance. It’s warm, but not too hot, leaving me feel soothed. I dip my other hand into the same substance. Sarah finally sits down in the other recliner, and dips her hands into her own bowls.

“Mmm,” I hum softly. “This is nice.”

“Glad you approve,” Sarah says, her own voice showing how relaxed she’s become. We relax and listen to the soft music in the background until Sarah asks, “So, how are you enjoying yourself, Madison?” She puts a little emphasis on the name she picked for me.

I roll my head over and smile. “I gotta be honest, I didn’t think I’d be enjoying myself this much.”

She smiles gently. “Did you sleep good?”

“Pretty well. Wake up was a bit of a surprise, like, ‘OMG who’s this in my bed?’”

Sarah laughs. “I’ll bet you never woke to anything like that before!”

“It took me a bit to remember what happened.”

We finish the treatment, and wipe the remaining paraffin from our hands. She brings over some red nail polish next. I sit patiently while she paints my nails with small delicate strokes. “Keep your fingers separated for a while,” she advises me. “Those need a chance to dry off.” She then does the same to my toes. I take a moment to admire my fingernails. The ruby-red polish looks striking, and really give my fingers more pop.

Once she’s done with the nails, she takes the towel off my head and starts working with my hair. I can’t really see what she’s doing, but I can feel brushes running through it, I think I saw a curling iron being used, and I see a few bobby pins in her hands. Finally, once she’s finished with the hair, Sarah walks out of the bathroom with a make-up kit. I can’t help but feel a bit apprehensive at this point. She senses my worry, and reassures me, “Don’t worry, it’s just make-up. It won’t hurt you.”

I close my eyes, and Sarah goes to work. I can feel lip gloss being applied to my lips, mascara brushed onto my eye lashes, and a soft pad dabbing my cheeks. After what feels like an eternity, Sarah proudly announces, “All done! Take a look at the new-new you.”

I open my eyes to a hand-mirror Sarah has produced. If I looked sexy last night, I look drop-dead gorgeous now. My lashes seem to accentuate my soft-blue eyes now. My ruby lips match the color of my nails. My face was already pretty smooth, but now it looks like it was painted by a master artist. The blonde locks on top of my head look sculpted, and make me think of the kind of style you’d see in classic Hollywood movies. My jaw has dropped at the amazing transformation I just underwent. “Wow,” I finally manage to eek out of my mouth, a massive smile forming on my face.

“Not too bad, if I do say so myself.” Sarah straightens up. “OK, so tonight, I ordered delivery from that fancy Italian place on 4th St. Your dress and heels are in my bathroom. You can go get changed there, than hang out for a bit while I make myself look pretty.”

I stand up, and saunter into her bathroom. The cocktail dress is hanging from a hangar, the heels are right below that, and a black bra and matching lace panties are sitting on the counter next to the sink. I manage to get the bra on (with a minimal amount of struggling with the clasp) and the panties soon follow. Both are much lacier than the red pair I wore last night, and they feel pretty nice. I slip into the slinky dress, and manage to zip it up on my own. Finally, I slide the heels back on. I walk over to her bathroom mirror, my heels clicking on the tile floor. The final look is enough to make any one drop to their knees and thank whatever deity they want for the creation of women.

I step out, but don’t see Sarah anywhere. “You done?” her voice calls out from her bedroom.

“Yeah,” I call back.

“Just stay in the living room until I’m done, I don’t want to spoil the surprise of how you look now until dinner.”

I walk over to the living room, and think about firing up a video game to amuse myself with. The truth is, I’m too anxious to focus on gaming right now. I practice some sexy poses, or at least what I think are sexy poses. I sit down on the couch and practice crossing my legs. My right leg crosses over the left, leaving my right foot dangling and pointing forward. I try some sexy sitting poses, though without a mirror I’m not sure how successful I am.

After about an hour, there’s a knock on the door. “Can you get that?” Sarah’s voice calls out, this time from the bathroom. I strut over to the front door and open it. Standing there is a guy dressed in a delivery uniform and carrying a warming bag. He’s about my age, probably even goes to the same school as me and Sarah. His eyes scan me up and down, and his jaw just sort of hangs partly open. It takes me a hot second to remember just what he’s looking at. “Yes?” I ask.

“Oh, uh, delivery for me…for you! I mean for you!” He fumbles. He reaches into the red vinyl bag, and brings out two Styrofoam take-out containers.
I take them, and say, “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, uh no charge! I mean, ah, it was paid for by credit card over the phone.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I start to close the door.

The delivery guy must’ve been feeling gutsy, because he blurts out, “I’m Mike!”

I pause in surprise. “Oh. I’m…” I came THIS close to saying my real name. “Uh…Madison.”

Mike seems pleased with himself at his courage. “You, uh, doing anything later?”

I arch an eyebrow at him, then nod at the two meals he just handed me. “One of these is for my date.”

There’s no missing the disappointment on Mike’s face. “Oh.”

I take a moment to make sure that sunk in, then say “Goodnight.” I close the door before anything else can happen. I set the food down on the dining table in Sarah’s kitchen. The full weight of what just happened finally hits me. A guy just hit on me. Granted I look like a movie star crossed with a fashion model, but still! I felt a little bad for shutting him down like that, but still it was weird getting that from a dude. In fact, I don’t think anyone’s ever hit on me, I’ve always had to make the first move.

Just then, I hear a familiar voice behind me say, “Hi.” I turn, and there’s Sarah. She’s wearing a maroon dress that reaches the ground. A slit on the left side lets her olive-colored leg slip out as a tantalizing reminder of the beauty that lies beneath. A pair of stiletto heels are giving her claves the most sensual look I’ve ever seen. The neckline plunges gloriously downward, giving ample view of her magnificent bosoms. Her hair has been done up in a similar style as mine; the cocoa brown complimenting my golden blonde. Her deep red lips part to reveal a dazzlingly white smile that could light up the universe.

She puts her hands on her hips. “Well don’t you look like a tall drink of water.”

Even though I’m sure I’m blushing, I meet her stare with a smile of my own. “Same to you, beautiful.”

Sarah crosses the living room like a model walking a catwalk. She gets out two plates and we spread our dinners on them to make the meal look a little more authentic. Finally, she brings over two candles and lights them on the middle of the table, giving us a suitably romantic atmosphere.

As we begin our first date night together, I decide to mention the incident with the delivery guy. “So, in the interests of honesty, I have to tell you about what happened while you were getting ready.”

She looks up at me from her plate of veal parmesan. “Oh? What happened?”

“I’m pretty sure the delivery boy made a pass at me.”

Sarah laughs. “Get used to it honey, it happens to me all the time.”

I laugh myself, more at being called ‘honey’ than anything else. “How do you get used to it?”

Sarah shrugs. “Just let it go. A guy sees someone who looks like you, especially dressed like that, and the only reason he wouldn’t take a shot at asking you out is if he’s clinically dead. What’d you tell him?”

“That the dinners were for me and my date tonight.”

“Bravo!” Sarah gives me a little golf clap. “Way to let him down easy. You’d think you’d been a woman all your life.” She gives me a mockingly inquisitive look. “You haven’t been hiding something from me all this time, have you?”

I laugh. “Believe me, if I was, I would’ve asked you out a long time ago.”

There’s some more assorted small talk as you finish the meal. With the food gone, Sarah asks, “So I have to ask you something important.”

“Shoot.”

Sarah seems to consider her words carefully, then asks, “You’ve just undergone a major transformation. The appearance you’ve had your entire life has been fundamentally and completely changed. Yet this whole time, you’ve been rather okay with it. I mean, there hasn’t been any major freak out, you haven’t broken down crying, and you actually seem pretty happy. Do you mind if I ask how you’re feeling about this whole experience?”

I regard her with warmth and sincerity. “You know, I asked myself that very question last night as I was going to bed, and I think I have the answer.”

“Do tell.”

I smile. “You.”

She sits up a little taller, looking pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

I resolve to let it all out. “You’re right. Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be freaking the hell out. Every little sensation is completely different for me. This body is sensitive in ways I’ve never experienced. It requires exhaustive maintenance, and I won’t even tell you what using the toilet has been like.”

Sarah laughs again. “It must be quite the shock.”

I nod in agreement. “But this whole time, I’ve had someone who helped with the right fashion sense. Who’s given me instructions for cleaning and caring. Who’s made me look as beautiful as I can, and did so with patience and grace. You turned this from a potentially scarring nightmare into something I’ll treasure forever. Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah smiles, and touches her lip with her index finger. Her eyes seem to scan me up and down. Finally, she stands up, blows out the candles, and says, “Follow me.”

I follow her into the open space of the living room. She puts her cell phone into a Bluetooth speaker dock. After entering some commands, Careless Whisper starts playing. She holds out her hands, and says, “Dance with me.”

My first thought is to protest. To tell her that I’m not used to moving around in heels. That I’m too nervous. But the room suddenly feels very warm, and Sarah looks so good right now. I reach out, our left hands clasp, her right hand goes around my waist, and mine goes around her back. The next thing I know, we’re slow dancing and looking into each other’s eyes. Fortunately for my sense of balance, she keeps the foot movement to a minimum. I still can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been fawning over her for almost 2 years now, and now finally it’s happening. We’re having a proper first date.

Granted the circumstances aren’t how I ever imagined, but I’ll gladly take what I can get.

As the song wraps up, I decide it’s time to make my move. I lean in, and to my surprise/utter relief, she moves in too. Our lips meet, softly at first, carefully probing each other. My head is spinning. Her left hand slides out of our grip, and smoothly snakes up my back. I feel like melting into her arms. My left hand moves around her shoulder while my right hand snakes down past her waist, firmly grabbing her rear. This seems to spur her on, as our tongues intermingle in our mouths.

She pulls back after a while, with a look of lust on her face. She grabs my hand and pulls me to the bedroom. We kick off our shoes as she unzips my dress, and helps to slide it down my body. It lands in a pile on the floor, and is soon joined by Sarah’s dress. Our bras and panties soon join the pile of clothing, and she pushes me down onto the bed. She straddles me and pins my wrists down, whispering “You are so beautiful,” into my ear. I only manage a soft moan in response.

My chest starts feeling like my insides are doing somersaults, as Sarah’s body presses into mine, her breasts pushing onto mine. I feel heavy and hot, my senses go crazy, and I feel my thighs growing damp. With my hands above my head, Sarah gently kisses my neck, then my ear, then my lips again. I gasp with pleasure, and she’s panting heavily. Her hands start slide down to my sides, and my hands work their way to her ass, squeezing and kneading.

“You feel so amazing,” Sarah says breathlessly. I want to say something, but the speech center has detached itself from my mind. All I manage is another moan. Her head drops down and starts to link my chest, slowly inching its way upwards. The electric fire I experienced last night dances across my body, my nipples stiffening in the process. My muscles lock in place, and my head swims in endorphins. I feel something warm, as her lips lock onto my nipple. The moan I let out this time is loud, as heat radiates between my legs.

Her head moves towards my nether regions, and my thoughts erupt into an explosion of ecstatic pulses. I could melt into this bed right now, and I just know Sarah could too. The rest of the evening is a jumble, as my vision blurs and my muscles explode with energy. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but it was the most wonderful I’ve ever felt.

[bane22]

Sunday, 11:01 AM

My eyes flutter open. At first I don’t recognize the ceiling I’m looking up at. I look around, and see I’m locked in Sarah’s arms and she’s intertwined in mine. Her hair is bit more tangled than it looked last night, but she’s no less beautiful. I roll onto my side and face her. Her own eyes blink open a moment later, and she smiles. “Hey,” she says softly.

“Hi there,” I say in matching tone.

We lie there, just staring at each other and basking in our mutual embrace. Finally, she props her head up on her hand, and coyly asks, “So, was it good for you?”

We giggle at the joke. “I think I just experienced my first sex coma.”

She gives me a serious look. “I really am glad. I wanted this to work so much.”

I snuggle a little closer to her. “For my money, I think it worked. Worked just fine.”

She smiles wider than I’ve ever seen her smile before. “I’m so happy. I really am.” She pauses, then adds, “So, how’s that little crush you’ve had on me going?”

I feel completely helpless in her gaze. “I think I might be falling for you even harder now.”

“Well oh darn,” she says humorously, squeezing a little tighter. “I guess we’ll just have to feed the addiction.”

We spent the next several hours cuddling in bed, exchanging pillow talk, with some light make-out session interspersed for good measure. We reveled in each other’s touch, and romped like naughty teenagers. It was the most pleasurable and romantic interaction I’ve ever had with a woman, and while I can’t exactly speak for Sarah, I can honestly say I’ve never seen her glow the way she did this day.

Of course, all good things come to an end. It was around 3:00 and we were still curled up in bed, watching videos on an old CRT TV Sarah had in her bedroom. Suddenly my stomach made the loudest grumble I’ve ever heard in my life. We looked at each other, then laughed it off. That would have been the end of it, but then ten minutes later it happened again.

“You sure you’re alright?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah, doesn’t even hurt. It’s weird, it’s like the sound an empty stomach makes, but I don’t feel anything.”

She looks concerned, but clearly doesn’t want to make a big deal of this. “OK.”

Five minutes later we hear a double groan, two in a row. “Uh, Sarah?”

Sarah’s eyes go wide. “I know what this is. Quick, get up!”

I throw the sheets off, and jump up, still naked. Sarah tosses the sheet to me. “Here, wrap yourself in this but not too tightly. And hang on.”

I wrap the sheet around me, starting to feel nervous. “What exactly-“
Before I can finish the sentence, there’s a very loud gurgle, then the room seems to explode with light. I feel off-balance, the parts of the room I can see seem to contort and expand before my eyes. I get the butterflies in my stomach, and it feels like ants are marching on my skin. I hold onto the bed sheet as best I can, but I can’t tell if I’m holding to my body or not.

The sensation subsides, and I find myself looking around. The room seems smaller, and the ground seem further away than I remember. I look down at Sarah; she’s covering her breasts with her hands, and her legs are clamped to the side to cover her privates. It takes me a moment to realize I don’t feel my hair dangling down my back anymore. And my hands are pressing the bedsheet flat to my chest. My flat chest. I look down. My arms are fuzzy with body hair. My breasts have receded to ordinary pecs. My hands chunky, the fingers shorter and thicker.

“Sarah?” I ask, and realize my old voice is back.

She looks at me with wonder, but I can also detect a little disappointment. “Looks like the spell wore off.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I look around, and spot the cocktail dress, heels, bra and panties I’d been wearing last night lying on the ground. The reality of the situation suddenly hits me. “I don’t have anything I can wear, do I?”

Sarah suddenly comes to the same conclusion. “Oops,” she says sheepishly. “Hang on,” she says, as she gets out of bed. I turn my head out of respect. I recognize this is kind of odd, seeing as just moment ago we’d been cuddling after some very impressive sex. Still, I have to acknowledge that I’m not the me that was there before.

She returns to the room wearing the plaid bathrobe she wore yesterday. “Alright, I’ll scout the hallway. If it’s clear, you make a break for your place and go get dressed. I’ll meet you there later.”

I nod in acknowledgement, and follow her to the front door. She cracks it open, and looks both ways. She waves me forward. “Now!” she whispers.

I shuffle out, the wrapped bed sheet trailing behind me. I quickly make my way to my neighboring apartment, and am relieved when the door swings open without incident. I’m even more relieved when I find everything in my place is undisturbed.

I stop in the bathroom one last time to look in the mirror. My old self stares back. My brown hair has returned, disheveled and a bit shaggy, but nowhere near as long as it had been only a minute ago. I’ve got a light stubble on my face, and my eyes, though still blue, now have the piercing look of a man in his prime. I drop the bedsheet, and can confirm that all of what I once had been has been returned.

I scoot over to my bedroom and get dressed in boxers, khakis and a t-shirt. Sitting on top of the bureau is the bag with my girl outfits Sarah had bought on Friday, as well as my old sneakers and the clothes I’d been wearing when this whole crazy affair had started. I find myself feeling oddly wistful about the experience, maybe even nostalgic. It really hadn’t been that bad of an experience. In fact, I wouldn’t mind it lasting longer.

I return to the bathroom and fold the bedsheet into something more compact. Just as I finish, there’s a knock on the door. I return to the entrance, and open it to find Sarah waiting. She’s dressed in sweats again. “Hey,” she says quietly.

I hand her the bedsheet. “Thanks for, well, you know.”

“Yeah,” she says as she takes the sheet back. She looks down to the ground awkwardly, then finally looks up and asks, “Can I come in for a moment?”

“Of course.” I step back and gesture for her to enter.
She walks in, and stops in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter. “So, that weekend just happened.”

I smile, trying to put on a brave face. “Yeah.” I pause, then add, “I meant what I said you know. I really did have a good time with you.”

She smiles now. “I’m glad, I really am. Thanks for doing this with me Madi-“ she catches herself mid-sentence. “I mean, John.”

“It’s OK,” I reassure her. Another awkward silence, then I ask, “Do you regret what happened?”

She looks at me, and it’s not exactly a sad look on her face, but she’s definitely not happy. “No, I really don’t. I mean, I admit I kinda miss seeing you all sexy and hot like you were. But I’m thankful for the time we had together. It was a magical dream, and it might be over, but you know, it’s better to have loved and lost and all that.”

I nodded, and looked away. Personally I never believed that old cliché, but I wasn’t about to bring that up now. “You want to hang around, maybe get some gaming time in?”

Sarah stands up. “No, I should get back. I have to clean up after last night’s…you know.”

I nod. “I understand. Maybe later this week?”

“You got it.” And with that, Sarah leaves my apartment. I wander over to the couch and collapse onto the old worn fabric. It definitely feels normal again, but now the sensation almost feels muted by comparison. I try to play some games, but my heart just isn’t in it. I try to catch up on some reading and schoolwork, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept returning to the magical night I had.

Eventually, the day ran out, and I went to bed. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, going over every event of this past weekend. After some interminable hours of restlessness, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.