Date: Sat, 19 May 2007 22:41:00 +0100 (BST)
From: Janet Harris <janetharris3@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Pebble

The Pebble
By Janet Harris Copyright 29/09/99


My wife Amanda and I lounged in deckchairs on the shingle bar of the beach,
watching the activity of the crowds on the sand below. We were sun bathing
to even-up our tans because the weather had been very patchy on our holiday
and the sun had only seemed to shine when we were inland until today. I had
on a cool long-sleeved shirt with the front unbuttoned because I had burnt
my arms on the cliff-top walk yesterday, but apart from that were just in
our swimsuits.

Reaching down at my side, I kept picking up pebbles and examining
them. There were a great variety of colours and patterns and quite a few
fossils. Where we sat today there seemed to be a lot of pebbles with holes
in. A few had a hole right through and I was looking for a hole big enough
to poke my finger through.

I had covered the surface of the whole area, which I could reach, so I
started to dig down, but I found that only two pebbles deep they were wet
and slimy.  Nonetheless, I started to feel over these wet stones for
holes. Suddenly I came across one that was bone dry down there; indeed it
seemed warmer than the sun- baked stones on the top. At first I assumed
that I had caused this by turning it under in my search, but then I felt
the largest hole yet in its side, so I pulled it to the surface and picked
it up.

The hole did go right through and should take my largest finger, if not a
thumb.  There was something very odd about its warmth, though, and it was
with trepidation that I poked my right forefinger into the hole. To my
surprise, my finger seemed to hit a bottom to the hole. I turned the pebble
around and looked into the other side of the hole. There was the tip of my
finger, looking as if it should indeed come through. It was not pushed
against a glass barrier, which is how it felt. I poked my other forefinger
in to touch it.

The contact of fingertips felt, to my fingers, quite normal, there was no
glass there, but a strange wave of feeling, not at all unpleasant, spread
rapidly over my whole body. I was perplexed. I withdrew one finger and
touched them again.  The wave occurred again, this time with much less
intensity, and I began to ascribe it to imagination.

"Tom" called Amanda, "what are you doing?"

I turned to my right, towards her, and held out the stone. "Look. Can you
fit your finger through there?" She poked her finger into the stone but,
just like mine, it wouldn't go through. I put my finger in from my side to
see if I would feel direct contact with her finger, too.

As our fingertips touched, the strangest thing happened. There was no
blinding flash, no electric shock, nor anything more than a little tingle,
but now I was looking to my left, with my arm stretched out to a man who
looked oddly familiar, but there had been no deckchair to my left
before. Realization dawned on me that this man was the one I was used to
seeing in the mirror, but the other way around. He looked down at himself
in horror, putting one hand on his chest and the other between his legs.

I looked down at myself too, but I did not need to feel myself to confirm
what I saw. I had already felt the bikini top on my chest and its straps
over my shoulders, so I knew that I had become Amanda just as she had
become Tom. I turned my head round to the right, feeling the weight of long
hair on my scalp, in the vain hope that Amanda was still over there, but
the next deckchair was several yards away, occupied by a fat man.

"Tom!" came a strangled cry from my left, "What on earth, ahem", startled
by his new deep voice, "has happened to us?"

"This is impossible!" I replied, startled by my new high voice, "that stone
felt peculiar when I first touched it, but I don't believe in magic like
this!"

The new Tom sat up and self-consciously buttoned up his shirt, being unused
to exposing his chest. "This is quite exciting, isn't it?" he asked.

I gazed down at my new smooth curves. I loved Amanda's body and now I was
inside it. Yes, it was me in her head, looking out from her eyes, because I
could only remember being Tom before. I liked what I saw, except for my
obvious castration, of course. I sat up and ran my hands through my hair,
feeling by breasts move as I raised my arms. Yes, MY breasts. My hair felt
lovely but would be quite a bother to look after if I had to keep it.

"We'd better touch through that pebble again to see if we can change back,"
I said, "I can't live your life. We'd both fail in our jobs."

The new Tom stood up and took a few unsteady steps on the shingle. "But
this dream won't last forever. We might only have one chance at this." He
put the stone down on his chair and put my, sorry his, rucksack and towel
on top of it.  "Come on, Amanda, let's go for a swim like this."

I shuddered as he called me by name. This dream? I pinched my wrist,
finding Amanda's bangle there and surprised that I seemed so used to
wearing it. The pinch hurt and I was still wide-awake as Amanda, so I
pinched my breast through my bikini top. I knew they were real, but was
still surprised how sensitive my new breasts were. For the first time I was
feeling them from the inside. I looked around the crowded beach and felt
both scared and excited about facing the world as a woman. I realized that
he was suggesting a swim because the sea was the nearest private place to
explore inside his swimsuit and I found myself blushing to think that I
looked forward to doing the same.

"OK, Thomas," I said with a grin, "but remember you'll have to take your
shirt off."

Now it was Tom's turn to blush. I watched him trying to look casual as he
took off the shirt, but his gaze was fixed on his hairy flat chest and
diminutive nipples. Suppose this was permanent! I was supposed to be
attracted by the male features I was now watching. I was, a little, and it
would get better, but the man I was watching used to be me so it seemed
wrong to admire him and my eyes always avoided his face.

I stood up and followed Tom towards the sea, expecting to find walking
rather awkward with my new centre of gravity, but it felt like I was
completely used to it. I knew that the old Amanda had looked just great in
her bikini, so I kept telling myself not to feel so self-conscious,
crossing the crowded beach. The sea was really quite cold, but we walked
bravely into the waves until the troughs were above our waists. I was
surprised to find, when my bikini pants got wet, that I was not nearly so
sensitive to the cold down there as I used to be, but when the peaks soaked
my top, my nipples stung and ached.

Tom came up close and whispered, "It certainly goes very small when it's
cold, doesn't it?" and giggled in a girly way.

I remembered what we were there for, having been distracted by the cold
waves on my nipples, and thrust a hand down inside my bikini pants. My sex
mound felt familiar, of course, to my hand, but the feelings from within as
my fingers explored my nether lips were simply amazing.

"Well, this equipment feels lovely," I whispered, "how do you like yours?"

"Not the best place to find out, is it?" he replied. "No. It's bloody cold
on these nipples, too. If we first make sure we can change back into
ourselves, we could swap bodies again later in the hotel." He splashed me
playfully, but I didn't want the bother of having to dry all that hair, so
I waded back out onto the beach and he followed.

Walking up the beach was much worse than coming down, because I was facing
all the staring men. When I was Tom, I was proud to see men admiring
Amanda's body, so I told myself I should still be proud now it was me they
were mentally undressing, but it was still hard to avoid their eyes. The
new Tom, my husband, I suppose, must have noticed my discomfort.

"Now you see what it's like", he said, "to have everyone staring at you." I
picked up the stone from his deckchair, poked my finger in and held it out
to him. "No, hang on," he complained, "this might only work once for
us. Let's go straight back to the hotel first."

"If you think I'm getting into your clothes too, you've got another think
coming!" I exclaimed, "I'm not standing here arguing, anyway." I nearly
used his towel, but thought better of it, passed it to him and rubbed
myself down with hers, well mine, and sat back down in her deckchair.

"OK" he said, "let's find out, shall we?" and he walked around to my side.

I held out the stone with my finger in it and he poked his in. There was
Amanda sitting below me and I was Tom again. The change was so quick and
gentle that I could take it standing up without even staggering.

"Now we can get dressed and go back to the hotel", I said in my old voice.

"That was absolutely amazing!" cried Amanda. "I can't wait to do it
again. Let's see if it'll work now for a second time."

She was holding the stone out to me, but I backed away, knowing that her
playful nature could get me into trouble. I started to get dressed and
reluctantly she followed suit, pulling her cotton dress over her head and
doing up her sandals.

As we walked off the beach, I could see that her bikini top had not had
time to dry in the weak sun and her dress was clinging to it, showing it
through. My swimsuit was also damp in my jeans, but it didn't show like
that. I felt an odd twinge of embarrassed excitement to remember that I had
been inside that bikini, filling it completely, when it got wet. I found I
missed having those sweet- feeling breasts on my chest already but the
thought made my restored cock swell in my jeans and I tried to convince
myself that I had come off better in the reverse exchange.

Amanda noticed my gaze fixed on her bosom and gave me a hard stare. As we
reached the pavement of the busy street leading to the hotel, she took my
hand in what seemed like a friendly gesture, but suddenly she held my
finger and thrust it into the stone, which she was carrying in the other
hand. Now I was holding the stone in one hand and a finger in the other. My
arms were now bare because I was wearing the sleeveless dress over a damp
bikini-top.

"Hey" I squealed in a high voice, "not here! It's too public!"

"Well you should keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself, or else let me
enjoy them!"

I tried to push his finger back into the stone, but he was stronger than me
now and managed to pry the stone away from me and put it in his jeans
pocket. I had never worn a dress before, at least not in public, unless you
count University Rag Day. The hem was flapping around my thighs in the wind
and I felt very exposed and vulnerable. I looked around, expecting people
to be amazed at my transformation, but of course they could see no change
when our souls swapped bodies and our little squabble over the stone had
seemed perfectly normal.

"Please let's change back," I begged him, "until we're in private."

"No, I think you need to learn what its like." He opened the door into the
hotel for me with mocking gallantry and took the lead in asking Reception
for our key.

We shared the lift with a middle-aged couple and the man made no secret of
looking me up and down. I found myself watching his groin and was rather
surprised to be flattered by a growing bulge there. I wondered how much of
Tom I had left in me, because my thoughts were all so female.

When we got into our room, he said, "You get in the shower first, my
dear. It'll be great to try sex like this, won't it?" I was staggered by
his boldness.  Amanda had, I suppose, always been a bit more adventurous
than me. As a man, he seemed positively dangerous.

"Hang on!" I cried, "Give me a chance to get used to this first. As I said,
it has to be temporary."

"I don't see why we can't enjoy it as long as we like," he said, "you seem
to like the attention you get as a girl and I certainly like getting the
respect men get." I blushed, realizing that he had been watching my
reactions to men admiring me.

I locked myself in the bathroom and got undressed. The little dress had an
elasticized waist, which I had to stretch over my bosom to get it off. Then
I pulled down the little pants and gazed for the first time at my brown
pubic bush. Of course I had seen it before, but now it was mine.

I squeezed my breasts one by one out of the bikini top and took my arms out
of the straps. There was only a small mirror over the basin in which I
could see Amanda's familiar face, but it was odd being able to make it
smile from inside.

I looked down at my smooth, soft body and cupped my breasts in my slender
hands.  As I said, I loved Amanda's body and it was lovely to be inside it,
moving it around as I liked. I watched and felt my big nipples growing as I
enjoyed thinking about it. It was quite different from how they had felt
when they were cold. It was almost like having two penises on my chest. I
told myself there would be plenty of time for that and turned on the
shower.

My long dark brown hair felt a bit greasy so I decided to shampoo it. It
was as hard work as I had expected and I began to think about cutting it
again, if we got stuck like this in each other's bodies or even on a future
body-swap. Amanda had resisted my suggestions that she wear it shorter, I
suppose because it gave her some sort of security and she had always worn
it long as a little girl. If I went out and got a neat pageboy cut on a
future body-swap, there was nothing she could do but live with it
afterwards, I thought.

On the other hand, knowing Amanda, or rather the new Tom, as I did, he
would be bound to seek revenge. He had no beard or moustache to cut off but
he could get a tattoo. That would hurt him much more than a haircut would
hurt me, I thought with a giggle.

There was plenty of spare lather from my hair to wash the rest of my body
and I really enjoyed working it over my breasts and into my pussy. This
time I found my clitoris and started working it up to a frenzy. As waves of
pleasure washed over me, I became sure that I had the better part of this
bargain. I was glad that he was so keen to stay male - this could be
fantastic!

He knocked on the door and called "Come on, Amanda, when is it my turn?"

I must have blushed deep red because I wondered if he meant his turn for a
shower or to get inside my pussy. Had he heard me moaning? I got out and
quickly rubbed my body and hair with towels, wrapping one around my hair
like a turban and one around my body under my arms because I had forgotten
to bring a robe into the bathroom.

I unlocked the door to find him waiting in my, no his, dressing gown,
trying to conceal a ball of tissues in his hand. He just hurried past me to
flush the ball down the toilet and I could easily guess what was in it. He
too had wasted no time in experimenting with his body and I found myself
hoping that he liked it.

When he was safely in the shower, I took off the towel and put on my long
white toweling robe, overlapping the front the wrong, man's way at first,
then remembering to change it around. I got out the hair dryer, sat on the
bed and started drying that mass of hair now attached to my scalp.

The idea of staying in this body was becoming increasingly attractive, but
I returned to the problem of our jobs. Amanda taught biology to 12-15
year-olds. I hadn't even taken biology in senior school and I'd have to
learn all those pupils' names. How could I face the staff-room when I only
knew some of them slightly as Amanda's husband? Also, the new Tom could
never learn all the factors I used from experience to make important
decisions in my job as QC manager in a toy factory. He could probably get
away with it socially more easily than I could, but no, we could only swap
bodies for short periods. That was disappointing.

When Tom came out of the bathroom he sat down next to me and put his arm
round my shoulders. "Don't get me wrong," he said, as soon as I switched
off the hair dryer, "but I now find the idea of screwing the girl that was
me a bit repulsive. Do you feel the same?"

"Oh yes" I said with some relief "let's take our time. After all, we've
relieved ourselves separately now, eh?" I giggled and he looked embarrassed
that I had spotted his secret package.

"You were right about our jobs, too" he said, "we can only do this
occasionally.  Let's hope it keeps working."

"Well, I'm in no hurry to change back now," I said, "I really like being
female.  Do you like being male?"

He gulped, being surprised by my forthright approach and I think he had
been looking forward to getting his old body back sooner. "Oh yes, you take
over having all the periods and babies, sure!"

"I thought you said we'd do this only occasionally?" I asked in horror,
suddenly remembering the womb at the top of that hot vagina of mine and all
it entailed.

"Yes, OK," he chuckled "Shall I take you out to dinner as Amanda, though,
before we change back?"

"Yes, thank you, darling!" I said and kissed him quickly on the lips.

He took delight in getting me dressed. I was not nearly so interested in
what he wore. He chose a smart blouse and skirt for me, saying he regretted
not having packed a certain dress he would have liked me to wear. It was
weird getting into the underwear and tights, though I loved the way they
felt on me. He got out flat shoes for me to wear because he thought I
wouldn't manage heels, but I assured him that I seemed to be already used
to everything and I was right. I strutted up and down in the skirt and
heels as if I'd always worn them. I needed a lot of help with the make-up,
though. It was weird fitting earrings through the holes in my lobes,
too. He wanted me to wear my hair loose, as Amanda almost always did, but I
insisted on tying it back and fortunately the jeweled clip was packed.

I helped him do up his tie and we set off to find a nice restaurant. I
smiled as I watched his nervousness in taking the lead. He had to ask the
headwaiter if he had a secluded table for two, order the wine and taste it.

I felt a bit self-conscious in my blouse and skirt, but it was much better
than a bikini or a wet cotton dress. I realized after we had sat down that
one of the new feelings in my body was a full bladder.

"I'm going to have to go and powder my nose" I said with a twinkle and
tottered off on my heels to find the Ladies'. There I had more new
experiences. I had to wait in line for a stall and listen to some
astoundingly candid girl-talk about men, though luckily no one spoke to
me. Then I had to sit to pee, of course, after lifting up my skirt and
pulling down my tights and knickers.

I had time to think, as I viewed other men in the restaurant with female
eyes, that I was in no way attracted to my dinner-date, as I ought to
be. Sure I had loved him as my wife and I wanted him to enjoy taking me out
to dinner as his wife, but that would be impossible if we were both looking
at our old selves across the table. The thought made me worry about the
future of our marriage if we could not, or chose not to, change back.

As soon as I sat back down, I broached the subject. "Look, Tom, I'm sorry
to put a dampener on this evening, but I really don't think any romance is
going to work out because we can't get turned on by our old selves."

"No, I see what you mean," he said, in her old understanding way, "but
let's enjoy what we can of it, eh?" He put a hand on my nylon-clad knee
under the table, knowing what an effect it would have, plucking the hem of
my skirt with his fingers and said quietly, "We'll change back as soon as
we get back in our room. Do you know what the big bonus from all this is?
We are learning exactly what each other wants."

I was really glad of that positive attitude. I had been having all sorts of
negative thoughts such as, if we got stuck like this, we would have to turn
to others for sex and I did not want to be unfaithful to Tom, even less the
old Amanda. I was worried what would happen when the novelty wore off and
the biggest novelty I craved was full sex as a woman.

Reluctantly, I pushed his hand away and concentrated on my soup, which
tasted slightly of lipstick. For the rest of the meal we just seemed to
make small talk, avoiding the subject of the magic pebble. As we waited to
pay the bill, we found that neither of us wanted to go clubbing or anything
else. In fact we had become slightly bored with the situation and Tom even
said he wished we had brought the pebble with us. When it came to signing a
credit-card slip, he shot me a guilty glance. I guessed that it must have
felt like forgery.

We went straight back to the hotel for an early night. Almost as soon as we
were in our room, Tom dug out the stone from its hiding-place and we thrust
our fingers into it. Changing gender again was almost as weird as removing
clothes we had not put on, but we leapt into bed together, being really
glad to cuddle our normal spouses

Later, after watching a little TV, we had one of our best sessions of sex
ever, certainly for being in a strange bed. Amanda was right; we knew
better exactly what to do to each other.

I woke before her in the morning and lay there, wondering again how I could
have such female orgasms as Amanda had enjoyed last night. It crossed my
mind that I could put her finger in the stone while she was asleep and
sneak off for another prolonged shower or even wake the new Tom with a
blowjob, a thought that shocked me. But then I realized that I would become
the sleeping woman and she the awakened man. No, she was right, we must
take things very slowly.

When she did wake up, she agreed immediately with my resolve to put the
pebble away and not touch it until next weekend. This was Sunday, the last
day of our holiday and we spent it happily in our own bodies, walking more
of the beautiful cliff path.

During the following week back at work I could not keep the pebble out of
my mind and Amanda said she felt the same. I kept seeing the ladies at work
in a different light and imagining swapping bodies with them.

We thought we were holding out well against its attractions on Wednesday
evening, until Amanda suddenly had a strange idea. She had her cat
Mr. Tibbs on her lap purring loudly when she announced "I'd like to try the
pebble swap with Tibbsy here. I know we resolved to wait until Friday, but
this is different, more of a zoological experiment. Could you get it out,
please?" I was startled by this and opened my mouth to discourage her, but
curiosity "caught the cat" so to speak and I complied.

When I came back with it she said, "Tom, would you mind swapping with me
first?  For two reasons: one, I want to see if Tibbs can tell the
difference in me when we're swapped and two, I don't want him to have to
cope with a gender change as well as species."

"OK," I said, holding out the pebble with my finger already in it, "here
goes!".

Her finger pointed into the stone and, with the now familiar seamless
transition, it was my finger pointing, I could feel the cat on my lap, a
bra on my chest and long hair on my head. I stroked the cat and he
responded well. His purring continued unbroken. Being a ginger-Siamese
cross, he was a very one- person cat, Amanda's, so it was clear he had no
idea that it was me inside her.

"Well that answers one question," Said the new Tom, "now let's see if he'll
let me handle him." He picked Tibbs up off my lap and experienced the cold
hostility usually reserved for me. I was wearing jeans for the first time
as a female. He must have noticed me gazing at my empty groin, where the
zip curved smoothly under, because he put his hand between his legs and
grinned, "Don't worry, I'm taking good care of them."

I cupped my breasts in my hands through my jumper and replied "And I'm
taking good care of these too!"

He grabbed one of Tibbs' paws and poked it towards the stone, but the cat
began to growl and struggle, so he put him down on the floor.

"Hey just a minute," I cautioned, "Suppose he goes berserk in your body?
You're much stronger than me now."

"OK then, tie me down to this chair first. Use the tape from the kitchen
drawer.  You'd better fix my hand open like this so you can force the
finger into the stone, if necessary." He spread his legs so that his shins
were adjacent to the front legs of the chair and stretched his arms down
alongside the back legs. I crouched down with the tape, having to flick my
hair out of the way, and wound the tape round and round each chair-leg and
limb in turn.

As I crouched at the feet of "my husband", I could not help feeling a
little subservient and getting guiltily turned-on by it. On the other hand,
I was tying him up, so perhaps the idea of being a dominatrix was arousing
me, too? Anyway, I hid my feelings and got on with the job.

Then I fetched Tibbs, who was very compliant with me. I pushed one of his
paws into the stone and then brought it up under Tom's pointing finger.

"It's not reaching me," he said, "You'll have to split his paw and get one
of his fingers in." The cat was remarkably patient with me as I maneuvered
his paw against the hole. "That's be...nnnngg...oowweee!" yelled Tom, or
rather Tibbs in his body, which started to struggle violently at its bonds.

I was terrified as the chair rocked about. His head nodded and shook as he
looked around the room with a blank expression, being unaware that he could
have turned his eyes instead. His gaze fixed on the cat and he grimaced
with something like a growl. Meanwhile the cat came and rubbed up against
me, purring loudly.

"Look, if either of you can understand me, nod your head." I said, but the
man in the chair just kept staring blankly at the cat and working out how
to snarl, while the cat stared up at me wide-eyed, with no sign of a nod. I
found my old body quite disturbing, since it was acting like a seriously
mentally handicapped person.

Suddenly the cat was playing with the pebble where I had left it on the
floor, bowling it up to the chair-leg where the extended finger waited and
trying to poke its own paw in. I got the message of course and took hold of
the pebble and the finger. Surprisingly, the struggling man calmed down as
soon as I touched him, so I stroked his arm too. Tibbs was obviously
jealous of what he thought was a strange cat getting my, Amanda's,
attention.

I got the paw and finger together in the stone quite easily this time as
they were both cooperating. The cat suddenly bounded away across the room
and Tom said "Poor Tibbs! He's so confused. Please untie me quickly so I
can go and comfort him."

As I unwrapped all the tape, I asked, "Well, what was it like, then?"

"Really weird, but it was lovely having all that fur. I had no language at
all though. I couldn't even think in words. What were you saying to me?"

"I asked either of you to nod if you could understand me."

"Oh, I see. I couldn't make head nor tail of it, so to speak, with my head
or my tail! I wish you'd tried some words that Tibbs knows. Did he try to
use this voice?"

"Not sensibly. He made a pretty good job of growling at you, though."

"Oh yes, I was able to work out his jealousy of me. Come on, let's swap us
back so that I can comfort him." He was free now so he picked up the pebble
and we poked in our fingers.

Amanda went straight over to Tibbs, who had run around the room, looking
for the strange cat, then sat down puzzled, to wash himself. I watched
Amanda pick him up and he was noticeably less friendly to her, the rivalry
still rankled.

"You poor thing", she crooned, "you thought I'd replaced you, didn't you? I
learned an awful lot from that, Tom. He can see colours, despite what they
say, but you have to look straight at everything. The smelling ability is
fantastic, though. I've got to tell you something embarrassing now. When I,
as Tibbs, rubbed against you, as Amanda, I got a hard-on! My female
pheromones must be near enough to a cat's to work on him. I mean I didn't
know he was actually in love with me until now. Do you mind, Tom?"

"Not as long as you don't make cross-species experiments a habit," I joked.

"No fear!" she replied, "They can't be valid experiments anyway. Zoology
doesn't allow magic pebbles as laboratory equipment. A shame really,
because it was an amazing experience. I could feel through every hair on my
body and smell every nuance of human emotion in your sweat. I didn't mind
having no words. I seemed to be able to think very quickly, too. Did you
notice Tibbs checked the window was shut after we changed back, in case the
rival cat had gone that way?"

"Yes, I thought that was clever of him too, but it's interesting that he
believes his eyes that there was another cat in here with no evidence from
his nose."

"Ah well, evidence is what it's all about. Whoever would believe what we
have just done and seen? Yet we both saw your body going berserk in that
chair, you through my eyes and me through Tibbs's, but could we ever
convince someone of that, who hadn't touched the pebble?"

I had a secret I couldn't discuss with Amanda just yet. I had already
booked her in with a hairdresser, one in the next town that I was sure she
hadn't used before, for 11am Saturday. I intended to be in her body then
and her new hairstyle might be the sort of evidence she meant.

Friday came around eventually and we were both excited with the plan to
spend the whole weekend as each other. Amanda came home from work after me,
having an after-school club to run, so I was cooking our meal. She wanted
to swap bodies as soon as she came in, but I objected that I was in the
middle of cooking. She pointed out that I could easily continue in her
body, so I complied and found myself in her long woolen skirt and loose
silk blouse.

As I had to keep flicking or swinging all that hair out of my way, I
couldn't stop thinking about my secret plan for tomorrow. The new Tom fixed
our drinks while I completed my cooking. As he passed behind me in the
kitchen, he pinched my bum.

"Oi! What happened to all those feminist ideals?", I asked, having just
been transformed from a cooking "new man" to a dutiful wife about to serve
food to her husband.

The meal was much more relaxed than the last body-swapped one in the
restaurant.  I found that I quite liked being Tom's wife. I found out how
secure it felt if he was attentive and caring and he was obviously trying
to apply his memories of being Amanda in that way. My repulsion at the idea
of fancying my own old body was receding rapidly.

While he did the washing-up afterwards, I settled in front of the TV and
began to discover a female perspective to the programs. When my husband
came and sat beside me, I was already enjoying a warm arousal from watching
men on the screen and thinking of how nice this body I now occupied felt.

I was grateful to him for enjoying his maleness too. I found it a bit
puzzling; actually, that he preferred the male role. Amanda had never been
a tomboy. I hoped the novelty would not wear off for him. I was also
puzzled by him being less averse to fancying his old body. Perhaps that was
because women have more narcissism than men. He had been very sympathetic
to my reservations about body- swapped sex, so now that I wanted it, I had
to make the advances.

I started by snuggling up to him and putting an arm round his shoulders as
we watched TV together. He smiled, but was still very cautious in his
response. He could not believe that I was now so ready to touch him, after
having avoided contact during all previous body-swaps.

The plan was to take it easy, going out separately tomorrow, together on
Sunday and maybe being ready for sex on Sunday night. Perhaps he was right
to keep to the plan, but I couldn't help feeling a little frustrated.

I had a leisurely bath before going to bed in which I masturbated
again. The female orgasms were very good, but I wanted to try proper sex
and was determined to get it Saturday rather than Sunday.

Waking up as Amanda in the morning was another new experience. I had been
more of a morning person and this seemed to stay with Tom's body. He woke
me with breakfast in bed, as I always had, and it was nice to be looked
after.

I could see he had already shaved. "You missed a bit under your ear," I
teased him, "you have to pull the lobe up to get there." That was a chore
of which I was glad to be relieved, I thought, stroking my smooth, soft,
chin, but when I got up I had to wash my long hair thoroughly, to save time
at the hairdressers.

I decided to wear a mini-skirt but I avoided the white one, which had been
my favourite on Amanda because I didn't want to be too eye-catching. I told
him I would go clothes shopping in another town, to avoid any chance
meetings with friends I ought to know. He would do the weekly food shopping
as she usually did.

I had to learn the controls of Amanda's car before I could drive to the
hairdressers that I had booked in secret, by that time it was 11:05 so I
was shown straight to a chair. As soon as I had explained what I wanted and
was wrapped in a gown, the scissors were scrunching into the masses of hair
just below my left ear.

A pit formed in my stomach at the enormity of my deception. This was
irreversible. I could see great long locks of that familiar hair falling to
the floor out of the corner of my eye and my head felt suddenly lighter as
the scissors worked around to my right ear. I tipped my head to one side
and watched the mirror spellbound as the new ends swung out from my cheek,
high above my shoulders. I closed my eyes as all the front hair was combed
forward over my face, reaching my mouth but not my chin. The scissors
scrunched across just above my eyebrows and when I opened my eyes, there in
the mirror was a completely new Amanda with her fringe and bob.

As it was finished off with much brushing, combing and snipping, I gazed in
amazement at my reflection. Would he be angry? Probably not!

On Monday, Amanda would have to face her colleagues and pupils with her new
hairstyle and I was sure they would like it too. In any case, there was
nothing she could do about it now.

I decided that more make-up would suit my new look so I looked for a beauty
salon, which would do a professional job. I could not find one in this
strange town so I made for the cosmetics shelves of a supermarket and
restocked my handbag with some brighter colours. Then I found a burger-bar
to get my lunch with a quiet Ladies' toilet and applied my new mascara, eye
shadow and lip-gloss there.

I now had less time for the planned clothes shopping but I was able to find
a couple of items I wanted. Tom had suggested that I buy a few things,
which I had wanted Amanda to wear before. I had been pleased at his
generosity and suspected that he had found male tastes, which had surprised
him. Now I was embarrassed to buy anything too alluring, but chose a smart
blouse of a style I had admired, but Amanda had never worn before and had
the labels cut off to wear it home. I also bought a sexy basque with
suspenders and some stockings. The skirt I was wearing was too short for
them, but I decided to change and wear it tonight for my seduction attempt.

When I arrived back home, I sat in the car for a few minutes touching up my
brush-on lip-gloss before I plucked up the courage to show myself to Tom.

He was just dumb struck. "It's really very smart" were the first words he
could stammer. "You're certainly different enough for me to fancy now."

"Oh, I'm so glad" I said honestly and kissed him on the cheek. He ran his
hand round the new edge of my hair in amazement and kissed me back on the
lips. "I can't wait till tomorrow night", I whispered in his ear, "I want
you now."

"Well, let's have dinner first," he replied, "I'll cook, as I've planned
it."

So I went off and changed into the basque and stockings, feeling constantly
warm between my legs and knowing that it was penetration, which I craved. I
put on an evening dress of Amanda's, which was not my favourite but the one
she liked best. It was soft and comfortable, coming down to my knees to
cover my stocking- tops but leaving my cleavage clearly visible from its
scoop neck. I had to get used to seeing that out of the corner of my
eye. If I bowed my head to look at it, the new ends of my hair swung
forward by my cheeks and I knew I must be looking pretty good.

As I sought out a suitable necklace, I came across some nail
varnish. Amanda very rarely painted her nails and had not for over a year
now, but I thought it would suit my new look. It looked so good when I had
finished that I took my stockings off again and did my toes too. This took
so long that I was surprised that Tom did not call me.

When I hurried down to find him, realizing only afterwards that I seemed so
used to the heels I had put on that I had not given them a thought on the
stairs, he was putting the finishing touches to a romantic table-for-two.

"Oh, I thought you were going to wear something new that you'd bought
today" he said.

"Ah but I am!" I replied, and I found my eyes dropping to his crutch to
watch the growing bulge there as the penny dropped.

Over the meal, he told me how his shopping trip had gone. "I saw six people
I knew", he said, "but only three of them knew me as your husband. They
sent their best wishes to you, because I told them you were unwell, which
was a bit funny because they meant it for me. I didn't know Diana Goodland
fancied me. Did you?"

"She enjoys talking to me, but I wouldn't have said she fancied me, no. Oh
my god, you didn't lead her on, did you?"

"Well, I couldn't resist a bit of a flirt. It was so funny because I know
her so well and she thought I would never tell my wife! We didn't kiss or
anything, didn't even arrange to meet again. Don't worry. It was just
really interesting to flirt with her as a male. Oh and Joan Martin's
husband wants to borrow your (I mean my) jigsaw. He's coming round for it
later. You don't know him very well, do you?"

"Round here? With us swapped over? Oh no!" I gasped.

"It'll be alright. I'm the one he'll talk to. You can be very unwell
upstairs, if you like, but you look lovely. I never dressed up like that to
stay in, did I?"

I offered to do the washing up, but Tom insisted it would damage my nails
so I just helped him tidy up. I hoped Amanda would not take to dressing up
to stay in, as he had put it, in future, if it meant her getting out of all
the chores.

When we sat down for coffee, I was getting more and more relaxed in my new
role.  When the doorbell went, I got up to answer it, to Tom's surprise. I
recognized Mr. Martin, who introduced himself as Joe and did not comment on
my new haircut, which I took to mean that he had not known Amanda any more
than he knew Tom, who took him to his den to get the jigsaw. When they had
not returned in five minutes, I put the kettle on for some more coffee,
thinking that if Tom could play at male bonding, I could play at flirting
when they did reappear.

"Do you take sugar, Joe?" I asked when they finally surfaced. He eyed the
three cups and fresh pot I had put out and hesitated.

"Well, I ought to be getting back, really." I gestured him towards the sofa
and, not too reluctantly, he sat down. The coffee pot was in front of the
other half of the sofa so, of course, I sat down next to him. Tom was
visibly shaken and I was delighted that my revenge was working on him.

As I poured out the cups in my role as hostess, I could see Joe looking at
the way the skirt of my navy velour dress lay across my nylon-clad
thighs. My bangles jangled together as I poured out the cups and the new
ends at the sides of my hair often swung into view. I had never felt so
self-conscious as a man and I was surprised that I was enjoying it now
because a man was admiring me.

I made bright conversation with Joe and when I passed him his cup I made
sure that our hands touched. Tom was almost squirming with embarrassment
and I knew he was worried about dealing with Joe when he was Amanda
again. He fidgeted and got up twice, for different reasons, or rather
excuses, so that Joe felt he had to go as soon as he finished his coffee.

As soon as he had shut the front door after Joe, Tom said "I suppose that
was to get me back for Diana, eh?"

"Yes," I replied, "and for spending so long in MY den. What did you find to
talk about in there?"

"Well I was surprised how much I actually knew about your tools and
stuff. I wonder if your memories are really here in this brain too?"

"Yes, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm sort of getting deeper into you the
longer I stay in your body." I mused, "I can still only remember being male
before yesterday, apart from last weekend of course, but it feels more and
more normal to be female and perhaps soon the memories of growing up as a
girl will sort of come back to me."

"If they do, you could go and teach at the high school and I could go and
test toys, eh?"

I was shocked that he was still keen on a permanent swap. There was much
about being female that I found very pleasant, to my surprise when I was
back to normal, but I didn't like it enough to want to stay in Amanda's
body for the rest of my life. Tom must be thinking of those periods and
babies, I thought, and they seemed a serious problem to me too.

On the other hand, I had looked forward with pleasure to suckling babies
when I had played with my big nipples in the bath last night. If necessary,
I wouldn't really mind staying female for life, but I did want to get back
to my old life and job after the weekend. I must put him off staying male,
I thought.

"I think you should wet-shave before we go to bed, darling," I said, "You
can work out how to do it, can't you? I'll clear up the coffee things and
everything down here."

It didn't take me very long to put the house to bed, so I switched on the
TV and settled down in the lounge, thinking it right that he should come
looking for me. Tibbs sauntered over and jumped up on my lap. I found it
odd to be accepted by him as Amanda and I couldn't forget Wednesday's
discovery that my pheromones gave him a hard-on. Hence I had been avoiding
contact with him, but now there was no one else to keep me company so I let
him settle on me. He soon started purring loudly and began flexing his
claws against my legs. This threatened to ladder my stockings, so I lifted
him up, moved towards the centre of the couch and put him down beside me,
with plenty of room the other side for Tom, crossing my legs to make my lap
inhospitable.

Before very long, Tom appeared, with a very smooth chin, a bit red in
places but no plasters or even bits of tissue, so I congratulated him on
his success. He sat beside me with his arm round my shoulders.

I turned towards him and let him kiss me. This one was nice and slow and
passionate. I was amazed how right it seemed to be kissing a man. I could
feel my nipples and my fanny responding to my feelings, but the pleasure
was spread much more over my whole body than I had been used to as a
man. Tom had his hand on my knee and he slid it up my skirt as we
kissed. When he found a suspender clip and the top of my stocking he seemed
almost shocked.

"Oh yes. I'd forgotten you said you were wearing your purchases!" he
exclaimed.

I put my hand inside his thigh, too, and gently touched his cock as it
strained to burst out of his jeans. As we kissed again, he slid his hand
onto my fanny and we exchanged little squeezes. This was too much for
Tibbs, as always, so he sauntered off to the kitchen with the utmost
disdain. There was more room on the sofa now but, tempting as it was to
strip off and do it right there, we pulled ourselves apart and I took his
hand to lead him upstairs.

On reaching the bedroom, I turned my back and he unzipped my dress. As
dramatically as possible, I pulled it off over my head, slung it into a
corner and leapt onto the bed, affecting a sex-kitten pose in my pink
basque and stockings. One of my nipples escaped from the top of the basque
in my leap and, instead of pushing it back in, I popped out the other one
to match, enjoying the look on my husband's face.

As he struggled out of his shirt and jeans, I slipped off my panties, which
I had remembered, on the second attempt after painting my toenails, to wear
outside my suspenders. I was not surprised that they had stuck to my pubic
hair.  I had been feeling randy, or should I say horny, as a woman, all day
long, since having my haircut. I knew my vagina would be very moist before
I touched it and sure enough, my fingers slipped easily inside.

I gasped with both pleasure and anguish because Tom had not fully undressed
yet and I was beginning to wonder if there was such a thing as female
premature ejaculation. I could not believe how desperately and urgently I
wanted to be filled up by his enormous cock. I had thought that I would
need lengthy fore play before I felt as ready as this. As soon as he
climbed onto the bed, I grabbed his cock and tried to pull it towards my
throbbing fanny, but he kept his legs away from mine at an angle as he lay
down, bringing his mouth down on one of my eager nipples. I almost screamed
as he sucked it into the roof of his mouth. I had not imagined that such
pleasure could exist up there on my chest.

I was working his cock with my right hand, gently to keep his orgasm off
until I could get him inside me, and I ran my left hand through his short
hair, kissing the top of his head.

He ran one hand round my neck, where I think he could still not believe
that all my hair ended so suddenly, and the other down my belly. When he
combed my sticky pubic bush with his fingers, finding my clitoris and
wiggling it with his middle finger, I could hear myself moaning as if in
the distance.

I spread my legs wide, it just seemed so instinctively right to do so, and
guided his cock at long last, it seemed, into my eager vagina. I remember
thinking, how on earth did the Victorians single out men as having
insatiable and uncontrollable desire, justifying their brothels, when, as a
woman, I could be so overwhelmed with desire that I was totally out of
control?

I could not help myself, even if I had wanted to, arching my back and
thrusting my pelvis against his. Knowing exactly what I needed, he squeezed
his hand down between us and wiggled my clit again. Much as I wanted him to
cum first, I could not hold off my first tremendous orgasm, very soon after
he first entered me. My mind was soaring in ecstasy as he returned to
sucking my tits and a second wave greater than the first seemed to totally
engulf my being.

This was so much better than masturbating and my previous female experience
now seemed rather lame. The ecstasy was just rising for a third time when I
felt him pulsing and squirting inside me. That third peak of mine was
therefore reduced in comparison, but I felt such achievement at his orgasm
that it was truly satisfying. At last my aching desire was almost quenched.

We made love several times that night and the rest of it is a bit of a
blur, now. I do remember him saying, quite suddenly, "You did take your
pill, this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course, I know where you keep them. Hey, hang on a minute, what's
the worry? If I did conceive while we were swapped, it would be interesting
to be both mother and father to it."

He seemed unconvinced, still worried, and mumbled something about the
child's security. We intended to start a family quite soon in any case.

He woke me for breakfast in bed again on Sunday. It was no surprise to wake
up as Amanda this time. The first thing I felt was a sore vagina. In the
shower, I found that soaping it out helped a lot. As expected, my new
hairstyle was much easier to wash and dry, but the brush hurt my forehead
as I straightened my fringe.

We dressed in jeans and boots for a hill-walk, as we had planned and, since
it was a bit chilly for late summer, I wore a blue crew-necked jumper over
a white polo shirt, with its collar turned out. I had always thought this
looked smart and rather cute on Amanda. I was pleased with the effect,
especially as my hair now stopped short of the collar. When I sat at the
mirror to apply my lip-gloss, however, Tom was disapproving.

"Come on, Amanda, we're only going for a hike." he chided me.

Of course I had to ride in Tom's car as a passenger. As we approached the
car, I thought that this ought to hurt my pride, but I could find no such
emotion. It all seemed so right to be driven out by my husband. On this
third day as a woman, I was fitting into the role so easily it frightened
me.

I liked the way the wind blew my hair as we climbed our hill. After a long
silence, Tom suddenly turned to me and said "Thirty-seven degrees!"

"What!?" I exclaimed, being unable to make any sense of it, "this hill's
only ten degrees at the most."

"No, the minimum leg-movement on the toy ponies. My job, the details are
coming to me out of my memory".

Suddenly I began to realize what he was doing. He really wanted to go to
work as Tom and send me out to teach as Amanda. Why was he so keen to stay
a man? I was certain I didn't want to stay a woman for more than the odd
weekend. I too had been finding memories of Amanda's coming to me, but I
did not welcome them, they terrified me.

"Look, Tom," I said, "I like being female temporarily, but I really don't
want to stay in this body for the rest of my life. Let's just keep it to
weekends as we agreed. I want that body back tomorrow morning, at the
latest."

"Well, OK, I suppose it would be really hard to get away with it at
work. Can't we swap some evenings as well? What about Wednesdays?"

"As long as you don't go experimenting with the cat again, yes, maybe, but
I found last weekend affected me too much for comfort during the week, so I
don't want to promise anything regular."

I thought he accepted this, but when we reached the top of the ridge,
pulled off our rucksacks and sat on a rock for a drink, he produced the
pebble from his rucksack. I had thought that it was still where I had put
it away in a drawer at home.

For the last few hundred yards to the top, I had really felt a member of
the weaker sex. Tom had had to take my hand and pull me up some of the
rocky bits. I loved his care and support, but missed the strength of my old
male body.

I thought he was going to offer to swap back now but instead he threatened
to throw the little stone down the gravel cliff on the other side. I don't
remember ever feeling so frightened in my life. My only way back to my old
familiar body was through that little hole. Down on the steep scene below,
it would disappear amidst millions of stones. I started up to snatch it
from his hand, but realized that I stood no chance against his strength and
in any case would need his cooperation to do the swap.

 I begged him not to be so reckless. "Please let's discuss this
carefully. We could really regret anything we do with that stone. Remember,
it was you who was concerned about conception last night."

"Yes, you've got a point there. I'll tell you what, let's swap now for just
a few minutes and I'll see if I still feel the same while I'm female
again."

He held out the stone to me with his finger in it and I eagerly pushed in
mine, knowing I would then have control of it. I was now looking at Amanda
in her pretty white collar and new hairstyle. The first thing she did was
to shake and toss her head, then put her hand up to feel it.

"Wow, this feels very different, doesn't it?" she exclaimed, "I think I'm
going to like it, though."

I was surprised to find how unfamiliar my old body seemed after only a day
and a half out of it. I was alarmed that it felt more normal now to be
Amanda. I put the stone away in my rucksack and we agreed to stay in our
old bodies until we stopped for lunch.

As we pressed on, along the ridge, I found it hard to forget that I was
wearing clothes I had neither chosen nor put on and that there was more of
my anatomy in my jeans and less in my jumper than on the climb up. I made
myself revel in my male strength and now helped Amanda over the difficult
climbs.

When we sat down for lunch, instead of offering the stone to her with my
finger in it, I passed it to her first, knowing that would give me control
of it afterwards. She didn't notice this, or at least didn't comment and,
as soon as I was her, I popped the pebble into my rucksack.

I had to admit it was very nice being female, but I definitely wanted a
means of escape. I still didn't understand why the new Tom was so keen on
staying male for life. There must be something better about it, perhaps, or
was it just the greener grass over the fence, as it was for me?

In any case, he made no more wild threats to lose the stone, perhaps
because I was so vehemently against a permanent swap. We ate our sandwiches
in good spirits. I found I liked avocado, as Amanda always had, even though
I had detested it as Tom.

The climb down to the car was easier, of course, so I needed no help from
my husband. We had planned to dress up and eat out that night, but we were
both too tired. We picked up a take-away on the way home and had an early
night. We found that we were too tired for any sex, as well, falling asleep
in each other's arms.

If there had been time before Tom had to go to work, I would have had my
third breakfast in bed but, before I could eat what was on the tray, I had
to get the stone out of my bedside drawer and swap back into him.

I could still taste the breakfast he had eaten, but I drove to work smiling
to think that I had not eaten anything myself, nor had to shave or get
dressed.  Amanda would be eating her second breakfast and have to go to
work in a new hairstyle she had not chosen herself.

When she came home, I was pleased to see that she was wearing the new
blouse I had bought on Saturday. She said everyone was delighted with her
haircut and gave me a big kiss of thanks.

On Wednesday, I found her briefcase in the house when I came home and
smiled to think that she was so keen for the planned swap. There was no
answer when I called her, though, so I thought she must have gone out
again. I got on with cooking our meal and suddenly she appeared in the
kitchen with her hair all curly, wearing a frilly cotton dress.

I was speechless at her transformation and before I could collect my
thoughts, she grabbed my hand and pulled it towards the pebble in her other
hand. Since I had agreed to swap today anyway, I put out my finger and
found myself in the frilly frock. At once I could feel the tight firmness
of the basque supporting my breasts under the deceptively loose dress. When
I put my hand on my thigh to confirm that the lump I could feel was a
suspender clip, I found that I was wearing copious petticoats too. I put my
other hand up to my hair, which was not swinging around as I had got used
to at the weekend, but a mass of loose curls standing out from my head.

"This isn't a perm, is it?" I asked.

"What if it is?"

"Well I did like it straight and swinging. I mean on you too, when you are
Amanda."

He stepped back from me and looked me up and down. "You're too different to
be called Amanda, now. Let's use your middle name, Penelope. No, just
Penny, I think. How do you like your new image and name, eh, Penny?"

"It makes me feel really cheap" I retorted, feeling hurt that he had
dressed me up to make fun of me.

"Well you do look a bit of a tart in those," he said staring at my feet.

I pushed my billowing skirts out of the way to find that I was wearing
fishnet stockings and five-inch bright red heels. As I moved around,
finishing off my cooking, I felt a cool draught up my skirt and also
discovered that I was not wearing any panties. I had to admit that I felt
quite excited by this new image, as well as used and exploited. Wearing the
basque again was bringing back hot memories of Saturday night. The thought
of Amanda actually getting dressed up like this also turned me on, even
though it had been for me to wear it.

As soon as I could leave the dinner to cook on its own, I minced over to
the armchair where he had sat down to read a newspaper, put my arms round
his neck from behind and kissed the top of his head. I could not help
myself living out the sluttish role I had been given. I moved around to his
front and unzipped his flies. Gently he pushed my curly head into his
lap. Although that great throbbing pole had been mine less than half an
hour before, I felt no repulsion at all on taking it into my mouth. It
seemed so right that I, Penny, should be submissively giving him head like
this. I did not have to look in a mirror to know that I was neither Tom nor
Amanda now, but Penny the slut and I found it very exciting to be this
completely new person. As I worked hard with my tongue, he put a hand
firmly onto one of my breasts and began to massage it. I fumbled with the
buttons on the front of my dress to let his hand inside.

"It's no good. They're false buttons," he told me, "there's only a zip at
the back."

I was desperate to feel him directly against my body, which was already
tingling all over. I took my mouth reluctantly off his dick and gathered up
my petticoats to sit astride his lap and get him urgently inside me.

"Where did you get this awful frock?" I asked.

"Oh, I just borrowed it from someone at work. It's not awful, Penny. You
look really pretty in it." To my surprise and terrible frustration, he
pushed me away before I could sit right down on him. "Now, now, Penny," he
said, condescendingly, while trying to force his unsatisfied penis back
into his trousers, "don't get too excited, yet. We haven't had our dinner
yet, remember."

I couldn't believe that he could be so cruel. I began to understand his
motives for dressing me up and calling me Penny. I had apparently carried
my male appetite for sex over into Amanda's body at the weekend and he
wanted to both teach me a lesson and exploit my libido for his own
pleasure.

I went up to the bathroom to wash my hands and had a good look in the
mirror. I did not look as different from Amanda as I felt. The big rounded,
lace-edged collar of the dress, the short puffed sleeves and the mass of
curly hair made my face look rounder, but it was still Amanda's. My
forehead was as bare as before I had my hair cut because the fringe was
curled up tightly at the hairline. The fishnets and heels contrasted with
the prudery of the frock, but betrayed my aching desires.

Stiffly, I served up our dinner and we sat down to eat it in silence. I
felt growing resentment at the way he was treating me, yet I was still
getting turned on by the novelty of my persona. Ordinary eating now seemed
erotic to me and so did watching Tom eat.

When we had finished desert, staring into each other's eyes, he readily
agreed to delay washing-up and we made haste for the sofa. I turned my back
for him to unzip my dress and he started to do so, and then changed his
mind.

"No, keep it on. Just bend over the arm of the sofa now."

I gasped as he cupped both my tingling breasts in his hands, popping them
easily out of the basque, and gently pushed me over the arm with his
chest. Then he put one hand down, lifted the back of my skirts and unzipped
his flies. I had to suppress a horror of being taken from behind and was
relieved when his fingers explored my vagina, not my anus.

Neither of us was surprised that I was very wet and ready; I had been
worried that it might trickle down my leg during dinner. I felt very
naughty; not wearing any knickers and that had excited me even more.

Suddenly, probably less than a minute since we left the table, I could feel
his hot, smooth helmet against my ecstatic fanny lips. Eagerly, I reached
down under my tummy, took his dick in my hand and guided it in. Now I
understood why Amanda liked to do it this way. The feelings as my vagina
was entered the other way around, pushing it upwards and forwards, were
simply amazing.

My feet were already off the floor and my legs wide apart, so now I bent my
knees to wrap them around him and, kicking off my shoes, I hooked my toes
together behind him, helping to pull more of him into me. While I only
needed one arm to hold up my shoulders from the seat of the sofa, I kept
the other down under my tummy and tickled my clitoris with my middle
finger.

He put both hands back on my breasts, through the dress, massaging them
vigorously. I was so overwhelmed by my rising orgasm that I ignored any
thoughts about giving him one too and I think I screamed rather loudly as I
came.

"Yes!" he cried, "that's how Penny likes it, isn't it?"

I could not disagree. He kept up the rhythmic pumping right through my
tremendous orgasm and the pleasure did not fall off very far before I could
feel another one coming.

However, he seemed to be getting nowhere for himself and soon withdrew and
asked me to turn around. Panting with urgency to reach my second peak, I
stood up and complied, lifting the front of my skirts for him. I was more
aware now than ever that I was facing the man that used to be me, both of
us fully clothed, in the bright lights of our lounge and yet it felt so
right and I was so eager to be fucked by him that I threw myself into the
knee-trembler without thinking it at all bizarre.

He leant back from me as he entered from the front, but reached for my tits
and resumed the massage. We were both frustrated by the presence of the
dress, he in feeling my breasts, even though they were now outside the
basque and me in reaching my clitoris again past all those layers of
petticoat, so I was relieved when he put an arm round behind me and undid
the zip. I crossed my arms and pulled the dress up and over my head,
without him having to withdraw from me, followed by the petticoat, though
its waist elastic was hard to stretch over my breasts and hurt my aroused
nipples.

Tom bent his head down and took one of those glorious new appendages to my
chest into his mouth and began to suck it. My ecstasy simply soared to new
heights and again I wrapped my fishnet-clad legs around him to pull him
deeper into me. Just as I came for the second time and as I could feel him
stiffen and pulse in his own orgasm, his legs came off the floor and we
fell together over the arm into the seat of the settee. We both giggled and
then indulged in a long, passionate kiss. During this, he ran his fingers
through my curls, pulling them out from my head and letting them spring
back.

When he came up for air, he said "Don't worry, it's not a perm. I don't
want to go to school like that tomorrow. I only set it on heated rollers
and it should straighten with the heated comb I bought today too. Would you
like to swap back while I go through all that?"

"No, I don't mind straightening it for you, as long as you shave and eat
breakfast for me again."

"OK, fine. Actually, it was rather nice eating two breakfasts on Monday
without putting on any weight!"

So, while he set about the washing-up, I went off to wash and set my
hair. As my now very sore tits bounced over the top of the basque on the
way upstairs, I wondered if I really wanted to stay female any longer but I
decided I did, as long as it was not as Penny the slut.

So the first thing I did was to put back on the bra that Amanda had
discarded when she came home from work. What a comfortable relief it was!
Then I wriggled out of the basque and stockings and put on panties, short
socks and a nice pair of jeans before leaning over the bath to wash my
hair. The curls soon got looser as I shampooed them and looser still with
the conditioner. I wrapped my head in a towel like a turban and went to get
a top to wear. I didn't want Tom dictating what I wore any more. I chose a
chequered cotton shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

I had to work out how to light and regulate the little gas-powered styling
brush then I undid my turban and began combing out my hair. Tom came in
when I was almost finished.

He looked surprised to see me dressed, but said "Hey, that's nice! Back to
your old self again, eh, Amanda?"

"Well, I'll have to wash it again in a minute, I think, but it should be
alright for YOUR old self, tomorrow, after that."

He offered to help me brush it out, but I told him I wanted to do it alone
and he went downstairs again. The truth was, I didn't want him around when
I took my blouse off again. Casting off the dress, basque and fishnets, it
had felt good to leave Penny's oversexed persona behind. I found that I
wanted to enjoy being Amanda without constantly living and breathing sex.

When I'd washed it and pulled the gas styling brush through it for a second
time, my hair fell nice and straight again, from the top of my head to its
neat, straight edges. Penny's face had been made up rather heavily, so I
washed it all off and applied just a subtle touch of colour.

I found I had quite different tastes now, in what I wanted Amanda to
wear. I found a necklace and matching earrings to add a feminine touch to
the cowboy shirt. I thought of putting a skirt on, but I had really enjoyed
spending last Sunday in jeans, so I kept to my earlier choice. I did take
off the socks again and put on knee-high stockings so that my feet looked
nice in low court shoes under the jeans, then I went down and found Tom
back at the dining table, doing Amanda's marking work from school.

He looked me up and down and smiled, but only said "I've got quite a bit
more to do, so why don't you go and watch TV ?"

I found myself disappointed that I could not get his attention, but I went
off quietly, got us some coffee and took mine through to the lounge. I
found a drama set in the eighteenth century to watch and found it
fascinating to identify with the female characters and admire the men,
especially in military regalia.

I found myself wishing to live a full social life as a woman. I had enjoyed
going out shopping on my own last Saturday, for all the nervous terror it
had caused, and I had enjoyed flirting with Joe too.

When Tom had finished his work and came to get me to go to bed, he said
"You know, we could teach each other enough about our jobs to try swapping
all week, sometime."

I surprised myself by reacting positively to this. I actually agreed that
if I felt ready by Sunday night, after spending the whole weekend briefing
each other, I would go out and teach biology on Monday. The next time we
swapped, on Friday evening, it would be for nine days, but I insisted I
wanted my old male body back after that. I did not tell him that Tom had an
interesting course booked for the week after that, away in another city,
and that this was my only reason at present for the nine-day restriction.

I did not tell him that I had begun to want a permanent swap. I did not
tell him that another motive for the restriction was jealousy: I did not
want the new Tom, with his sexuality so heightened by the novelty of his
body, going off for a week in a hotel. With that all agreed, we went to bed
feeling really affectionate towards each other in our new roles, but, for
once, not at all randy.

He kissed me gently when he put out the light, putting a hand on my breast,
but was not too disappointed when I gently took it off again. We said our
goodnights with a couple more quick kisses and turned over to sleep.

Next morning, for the third time, I drove to work as a man, but shaved,
dressed and breakfasted before I had woken.

On Friday, after being unable to stop thinking about the pebble all day at
work, I came home to find Amanda's car in the drive first again. I smiled
to think how keen she was, too, about swapping and wondered if she had
another surprise for me like on Wednesday.

Instead, I found her in tears, holding the stone with her finger right
through it. She was too upset to tell me anything, but I could see for
myself that the pebble's magic must have expired because it had been
impossible to get right through the hole before and it had lost all of its
mysterious warmth.

We tried touching fingertips as near the centre as possible; we tried
warming it in the oven; we tried washing and drying it and warming it
between Amanda's breasts, but nothing would restore its unique power. There
was no one we could turn to for help. Who would believe our story?

As we had discussed before, there was no real "evidence" that anything at
all magical had happened. Be we know and treasure the memories of those two
weekends and two Wednesdays. We enjoy the benefit they have brought of much
more intimate knowledge of each other. After all, why did Amanda change her
hairstyle at that time? Why did Joe think he could flirt with her next time
they met? Why does Amanda now occasionally set her hair in curlers, wear
sexy, mock-prudish clothes and become "Penny the slut" for a while?

We know that the cold lifeless stone we keep carefully wrapped up in
cotton-wool in our bottom drawer has given us some amazing gifts and we
take it out every Friday to see if it might have recovered its powers.

The End