A Gender Swap Mega Bundle 6

by Gregor Daniels

  He glanced at his phone. Just past six in the morning. The other boys wouldn’t be waking up for a while.

  TJ felt his way around the foot of the bed, nearly tripping over clothes and shoes in the darkness. He found the bathroom, switched the light on, and made a beeline for the sink to grab some water to cure a serious case of dry mouth.

  And then he screamed.

  Harry jerked awake. “Who … what was that noise? Anyone there?” He nestled his cheek into his lower right arm and dozed off again. “Just come back and give me a … a blowjob. Yeah. Like … that …”

  TJ gaped into the mirror. It was her! No. It wasn’t her. Not quite. The stranger in the mirror shared many qualities with the mysterious girl of the night before, such as her rich ebony skin and large eyes—which were here frozen wide in shock. But it wasn’t her. She was younger, more slender, an eighteen-year-old if he closed his eyes and thought about a tarot card flipping over. An eighteen-year-old naked black girl. In the mirror. Standing where his reflection should’ve been.

  Oh Christ taking a shit. That’s me!

  It was easy to mistake all this for a dream. For one thing, TJ was totally sober. No throbbing headache. No yesterday’s supper ejecting out of his mouth. His head was completely clear, and that shouldn’t have been the case. He had consumed so much beer last night that Chris and Harry probably dragged him back to the hotel. But not like this. This happened sometime during the night whenever they were all asleep. Whatever the hell this was.

  TJ cupped his right breast, and the chick in the mirror did the same. Ebony upon ebony. He squeezed it softly, and the black nipple began to enlarge a bit. Dark as the shadow of a shadow. It wasn’t a dream. TJ damn well wanted it to be. But no dreams felt like this, with a perception as crisp as reality and fully working senses. He was actually a black chick.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m not bad-looking. I’d take me home.” His lips widened into a brief grin. “I’d fuck me. I’d fuck me real good.”

  So, on the night after Mardi Gras in a sleeping New Orleans with two friends who were passed out from sending an alcohol blitzkrieg into their livers, TJ stood in the bathroom and squeezed his newfound tits. They were small—much smaller than Tessa’s twin peaks of pleasure—but still of the breast variety. Just way down on the scale. TJ was okay with that; he had no idea how he’d react if his tits were D-cup bra-stretching monsters or bigger. These were perfectly fine. Soft. Appreciable. Even a little sensitive, particularly around the nipples. His thumbs focused there, rubbing across them. He was impressed by how quickly they got hard.

  In the mirror, he admired his new headlights.

  “Damn, that feels pretty good.” He faintly remembered his drunken speech from last night. “I knew having tits would be awesome.”

  The questions were how, and why. TJ had no recollection of transforming into a chick. How the fuck was it even possible? And a different race, too! Like an overcooked chicken breast, his skin had gone from pale to dark brown. Hey, Louisiana was famous for its witch doctors, right? Or maybe this was some backwoods bayou shit. Still, no one had mentioned this happening during Mardi Gras.

  Being a girl was more than having a pair of tits. TJ knew this. He had seen lots of girls, many without their clothes on. It was all about tits, ass, and pussy. While his boobs were small, they were definitely worth a fondle or two. Check. He twisted in the reflection until his ass came into view. It was jiggling before he stopped. Big, black, and round. It wasn’t anything humongous, but certainly an ass that he could easily see this new girl having—him having. He squeezed it, and the girl in the mirror did the same. There was a huge grin plastered on his face. Check to that, too.

  Which left …

  TJ’s dick would’ve been at the bursting point if he still owned it. But he didn’t. What was between his legs now was far from that—quite the opposite, really. The things that dicks were made to go inside of. He faced the mirror again, his fingertips on the countertop. Below his breasts, his body tapered inward at the waist and then widened again toward the hips. Birthing hips. The sort only a woman has. Down in front, just below his navel, was something that turned his eyes into saucers. And it was hairless! Whatever magic had turned him into a black woman had forgotten the pubic hair. That was fine by him.

  He was shaking as the hand went between his legs. His fingertips remembered what they would find down there, but TJ was now the girl and that was his womanhood in place of a larger-than-average cock and balls. The smooth skin ended at moist folds and a pair of protruding lips. His middle finger went right down the center. It was happening on autopilot. He had fingered countless girls, and now those same fingers were touching him. He curved it up into the hole and pushed it deep. TJ penetrated himself for the first time.

  He stifled a moan as his legs trembled. Holy hell was it wet in there! And extremely tight! He had been oblivious to the sensation before, but now it was completely obvious. The inside of his pussy was wetter than an Indian monsoon. One finger was enough for now; he made that decision quick. There was no way to describe how it felt, other than to think of it as fingering his ass if he were still a guy. But surely those two things felt totally different, right?

  And that was just gay as hell to think about.

  He propped his leg up on the countertop. One eye open to watch the spectacle of a chick finger-banging her cooch. The other closed to focus on how this new body felt compared to his old one. It turned out that fingering yourself as a chick felt pretty damn good. Like jerking off, except the pleasure was deeper in his body, not quite focused. Everything in his lower abdomen felt warm, like an oven with someone slowly cranking the heat up. The juice continued to run down his middle finger. Eventually, he paused, popped the finger out, and sucked it dry. That old phrase held true. The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice. It repeated in his head as he savored the sweet flavor of his own pussy.

  Then his heat-seeking middle finger went back to the source—an increasingly damp hole that now had no resistance whatsoever. He plugged it hard, moaned softly, pulled his finger back, and stuffed it in again. That was good. Just like when he was with other girls. Push it in and out, fuck it with his finger. That’s what pussies wanted the most. At the same time, he squeezed a breast and rolled the turgid nipple between his fingers. They were incredibly sensitive now. Twisting them gently caused his toes to curl, and fucking his hole at the same time made him squeal.

  Holy fucking shit, TJ thought. That’s it, you fucking sexy African goddess. Being a chick is pretty fucking great!

  TJ rubbed his tender little clitty—he hadn’t forgotten that girls had those, too. It wasn’t any larger than a pea, but it packed a punch. Suddenly, standing with one leg on the countertop didn’t seem like such a smart idea, unless he wanted a cracked skull. He turned and plopped his black rear down right next to the sink, spread his legs as far as they could go, and went back to finishing the job he had started. He furiously pumped the finger into his warm, wet hole. Juice trickled out. His pussy was saying, Yes, keep fucking me. Keep doing that!

  A little more finger-on-clit action and then it came. He clenched the edge of the countertop as it overtook him, starting deep in his core and quickly spreading everywhere. His middle finger stayed buried inside that tight cunt of his, trembling. His knees quivered. His hands tightened into fists. His heart felt like it was going to explode right out of his chest.

  “Fuck yes!” a delighted TJ screamed.

  Female orgasm numero uno was one for the record books. TJ had to stop and catch his breath—something he never had to do as a man. It wore him out fingering that pussy! But it made sense; masturbation for a girl was more involved, more exhausting. But the reward was totally fucking worth it. His entire body was still tingling, and the finger that slipped out of his womanhood was completely drenched with pussy juice. He tasted it again, licking it clean. Just as good as the appetizer. His body seemed to understand that he needed a tasty refreshment after a long, hard workout
. Another shot of pussy juice coming right up!

  TJ turned to face the mirror again. His ebony skin was dotted with perspiration, and his green eyes were wide and inviting. Her lips looked ready to lock up into a passionate kiss.

  A sluggish Chris appeared behind him, and TJ spun around to face a very confused roommate.

  “Who … who are you?”

  Chris needed some convincing. It wasn’t enough for TJ to just say the truth. After all, the real TJ was an inch over six-feet-tall, an incarnation of a man inside a woman’s wet dream, and someone that normally had a functioning cock and balls. Oh yeah, and he was white. Put all those together and you had the TJ everyone knew and loved, the TJ that made girls’ panties wet.

  The easiest way to convince him was: “Your birthmark is right under your balls.”

  Chris’s eyes widened. “Shit, man. That is you! You’re a black girl!”

  Elsewhere in the hotel room, Harry was awake. “Who’s a black girl?”

  “TJ is.”

  “The fuck? I’m … going back to sleep.”

  Chris couldn’t take his eyes off TJ. “What the hell happened?”

  TJ shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. Woke up with a dark slit instead of my junk. And some cute titties. And a nice ass. Have you seen this fucking ass of mine?” He spun around and gave it a light tap, enough to make it jiggle.

  Chris gulped. “Uh … wow, dude. You’re actually a chick.”

  Someone had yet to tell Chris that he was stark naked. TJ took it upon himself. It usually wasn’t a big deal. They’d all seen each other naked in locker rooms and such, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to double-team some chick they had picked up at a bar. One in the pussy, one in the mouth. They’d swap positions and orgasm at the same time. They had it down to a science. Real camaraderie.

  Only now TJ was the girl, and Chris had some stiff morning wood going on.

  “I appreciate your feelings for my sexy body, but that’s creeping me out,” TJ said. “I’m a hottie, but I’m still TJ beneath this ebony exterior.”

  “Yeah, a real hottie,” Chris said. He was nearly drooling.

  TJ snapped his fingers. “Hey, stop checking out the goods! Eyes up here. Little further. No, those are my boobs.”

  Chris finally found TJ’s face. “Sorry, man. You’re just smoking hot. You sure you’re actually TJ?”

  TJ put his hands on his hips. “Of course! Now stop thinking about fucking me. I can see right through those fucking eyes you have. That’d be gay, and you’re not gay, Chris. Far from gay. You like that real pussy.”

  Chris shook his head. “Yeah … I guess you’re right. Still … you’re pretty hot.”

  TJ groaned. “Point that thing in another direction, please.” He followed a wide arc around his naked best bud and tiptoed out of the bathroom. Canal Street was still asleep by the look of it, but the horizon off to the east was starting to show some light. It was still way earlier than TJ usually got up, especially for a morning after a night of drinking like it was his last day on Earth. There was nothing to regret—except that he hadn’t gotten Titties’s phone number, or brought her back to the room.

  TJ went over to his suitcase and received another shock. It was all girls’ clothes!

  “Something wrong?” Chris had followed him, led by his morning wood.

  TJ grabbed a black thong panty in one hand and a white bra in the other. He showed them to Chris. “Oh, I don’t know. Just that my stuff has been replaced by chick’s underwear.”

  “What size is it?”

  TJ was actually a bit curious, too. He glanced at the tag. “Thirty-two B.”

  Chris continued to stare with a hard-on.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you? How about you go jerk off in the bathroom or something. Stop looking at me like that.”

  “I … can’t,” he mumbled.

  Harry was beginning to rouse again, no doubt from all the talking. He looked up at the dark windows, wiped some drool off his lips, and then turned to look at Chris. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Then he looked the other way. “Who brought the black chick?”

  “That’s TJ,” Chris explained. “TJ’s the black chick.”

  Harry started laughing. “No way.” He rolled onto his back. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever had a fuck before breakfast, but since you’re naked …” He hooked a thumb under his underwear and yanked them down. A rapidly-hardening cock popped out. “Over here, honey. Harry’s got a big bone for you to hide.”

  “Hey, go sniff your father’s underwear you fucking faggot!”

  Harry’s eyes became saucers. “Oh shit, it is TJ! Hey man, I didn’t mean … fucking hell, you are a girl.”

  “Yeah, and you both stop staring at me like I’m a piece of meat! It’s still TJ under here. I may have tits and a pussy, but I’ll still beat both your asses.”

  The other two boys just stared at him, both of their cocks stiff and throbbing.

  “Never mind. Fuck the both of you.”

  TJ searched his suitcase for any of his old clothes—t-shirts, jeans, socks, anything. None of it was there. Male briefs had been replaced by skimpy thongs and bikini-cut panties. Undershirts had become bras of the push-up and strapless variety. Shirts were now tank tops and navel-showing halter tops. There were still some jeans, but the cut was vastly different than before. The ones that TJ found were designed to show off his female curves and—especially—his bubble bottom. And the shorts were meant to show a lot more leg than before.

  He threw it all back into the suitcase and sighed. Everything in there was for a girl.

  “Hey, what’s this doing here?”

  He’s finally talking about something that isn’t me, TJ thought. He spun around and saw Chris reaching out for some doll on the bedside table. He flipped on the lamp and grabbed it. It was a hideous thing—black with white stitching, large uneven button eyes, and one arm that was longer than the other.

  Wait a second.

  “I think I’ve seen this before.” He looked at Harry, and then at TJ. The glance in TJ’s direction was noticeably longer. “From last night.”

  TJ suddenly felt really fucking strange. His skin started to tingle. It was like someone was grabbing him, but he was over by himself. Chris and Harry were several feet away. The hairs on his neck went stiff. He spun around, doing a full three-sixty on his toes. There was no one around him. Either some fucking ghost was having a grope, or—

  Chris followed the stitchings with his fingertip, running it between the doll’s offset legs.

  TJ gasped and looked down at his crotch. Someone was touching him down there! His brain was all but screaming it to him. That was definitely someone’s hand running over his new nether region, only he couldn’t see it. But it was there! His own exploratory masturbation was still fresh in his mind, and this felt almost exactly the same. He backed up to the wall, almost tripping over his own suitcase. His legs were trembling. The spot between them began to feel especially warm.

  After a moan left his lips, the other two boys turned their eyes toward him.

  “TJ, did you just moan?” Harry asked. He hadn’t bothered to put his cock away. And it was still hard.

  TJ bit his lip and shook his head.

  Chris stared at TJ, and then at the doll in his hand. He ran his fingertip down the stitching again, this time watching his now black female friend.

  TJ’s jaw dropped, and both hands went flying to his privates. He cupped his new pussy, as if to stop the sensation, but whatever was touching him down there was doing so on some goddamn fourth dimension. He couldn’t see it! And it was right there at the entrance to his tight little hole, too. He felt it moving along his folds, brushing his clit, even dipping into his vagina slightly. The inside of it began to feel hot and moist—exactly like it had whenever he had touched himself for the first time in the bathroom.

  Harry was the first to say it. “Dude, they’re one. The doll is TJ. TJ is the doll. That’s some bona fide dark magic sh
it!”

  TJ recovered enough to find his voice. “Yeah, funny! I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s probably my period. Girls have those, remember? It just hurts down there is all.” He cupped his pussy again and grimaced. “Ouch. See? It’s starting to hurt inside there.”

  Chris wasn’t convinced. TJ could see it on the guy’s face. He had hoped his acting skills were up to par to fool the two. Girls bleeding from their vaginas weren’t a pretty sight! Instead, Chris looked at the doll again. It bared no resemblance to TJ—other than maybe the color of it being black—but the two of them were linked in some form. Dark magic, Harry had said. Hell, he was probably right. That was a scary fucking thought right there.

  Chris touched the doll’s chest, and TJ felt the sensation again right around his breasts. His nipples became erect instantly.

  “Period, huh? That ain’t no period,” Chris said. “You and the doll are linked.”

  “I told you,” said Harry, yawning. “Touch the doll and TJ feels it. How fucking cool is that?”

  “Fuck you all,” TJ blurted. “It’s me! Stop fucking playing around! We should really be finding out how to fix—oh shit!”

  The finger was between the doll’s legs again, Chris at the helm. TJ felt it. His hands went back to his pussy to push it away, but that wouldn’t do. He knew it wouldn’t. And they weren’t going to let this go either. He saw it in their eyes. Each of them was young and horny, and all they saw was a naked black chick moaning in pleasure. It didn’t matter if TJ told them his true identity. They had an impenetrable veil over their eyes.

  “Oh shit, there’s a hole down here,” Chris said, looking between the doll’s legs. “Two of them.”

  “No shit?” Harry kept his eyes on TJ, a hand wrapped around his cock. “Well, use them then. Is TJ gonna feel it?”

  “We can find out.”

  The answer was most certainly a yes. TJ fell to the ground, panting the sweet musical tunes of a woman in heat. The invisible finger down at his crotch had discovered his moist honey-hole, and now it started to push in. TJ gasped as it went deep inside him. Whether witchcraft was responsible for this or not, the result was highly perceptive. It felt like Chris was actually fucking fingering his slit. After a while, TJ stopped trying to pull the finger out. It simply wasn’t possible. He opened his legs and rubbed his tender folds, spreading around the juice that had come to the surface. Everything was burning down there. He wanted to jump up and choke his two friends for doing this, but he couldn’t move. He was too goddamn horny for that.