A Gender Swap Mega Bundle 6

by Gregor Daniels

  Next he grabbed his breasts and went to town, pinching the nipples to the brink of pain. A squeal rushed from his throat. TJ saw Harry jerking his cock. Chris, too. Fucking pathetic. Then the finger went deep into his sensitive cunt again and he forgot all about it.

  “She’s really getting turned on,” Chris said.

  “He,” TJ breathed.

  Harry clapped his hands together. “Hey, over here. Toss it to me.”

  The doll went sailing across the room. TJ felt a jolt as it landed in the other boy’s hands.

  “I bet she likes it in the ass. What do you think, Chris? One in the stink and one in the pink?”

  Chris rubbed his cock faster. “Do it, man.”

  No, TJ wanted to tell them. Please stop. This is enough! What was that old saying? Boys will be boys? The invisible finger in his pussy relented, albeit briefly. Then he felt a similar sensation right near his asshole. There was no warning. TJ inhaled sharply, and then Chris’s finger was in the doll’s ass—his ass. Both fingers resumed their fourth-dimensional pounding. One in the pink, one in the stink indeed.

  “Holy shit,” Harry said. “It really worked.”

  TJ remembered his orgasm in the bathroom, his first as a member of the opposite sex. Chris and Harry were going to be at this a long time before he reached the top of the pleasure pyramid again. But then he remembered that girls could climax repeatedly. He couldn’t say for sure whether that was relieving to know, or more upsetting. They both wanted to see him come; that was the ultimate goal here. A part of TJ hoped it would come quick. The other part of him was too busy moaning as the pleasure expanded in his lower abdomen. Having his pussy and ass finger-fucked in tandem was like nothing else.

  “You … fucking … fucks,” he panted. “Fuck … you!”

  Chris and Harry swapped the doll back and forth, taking their turns to subject TJ to the mysterious world of female pleasure without letting him rest. At this point, he probably would’ve cussed them out if they stopped. He was too far into it now. TJ wanted another orgasm, a release from the bombardment of having his slit and ass pummeled with invisible fingers. It was almost too much. But, at the same time, it wasn’t enough. While they focused on below, TJ squeezed his tits and pinched his nipples raw. His legs were wide open so the other two could see the fruits of their labor—a glistening black pussy with a hint of pink.

  And the boys got off too, stroking their dicks. Chris had the forethought to grab a tissue before he shot cum everywhere. Harry, on the other hand, squeezed his cock as a geyser of release rushed up from the tip of his dick and splattered back down on his belly.

  “Oh dammit, it went everywhere!”

  TJ, meanwhile, was right there. The boys wanted to see him fucked by paranormal forces, but they also wouldn’t finish until he came. Compared to them, the female orgasm was delayed, but that was all right. It was easily twice as powerful. TJ screamed and thumped his head back against the wall. Just like before, it was everywhere inside his body. His legs shook violently, and his precious little pussy released a squirt or two of sweet-smelling juices. He rubbed it relentlessly, maintaining the high of orgasm until everything was too raw down there to touch.

  Afterward, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and gazed across the room. Three orgasms within minutes of each other. As boys, Chris and Harry had no idea what they were missing out on, but TJ was going to keep that little secret to himself.

  Outside, the sun was starting to rise.

  “So, should we get room service for breakfast?” Chris asked.

  “The only thing I want to munch on is some black pussy,” said Harry. He made a move for TJ, but TJ jumped up and scrammed away.

  “Hey! It’s still me, you fucking idiot. So that’d be my cock you’d be sucking. Just think about that one.”

  Harry pounded the floor. “Fuck, you’re right.”

  Chris was still checking out the doll. “Hey, there’s a tag on this thing.”

  TJ’s eyes lit up. “Reversal directions? About damn time. I want my dick back so you sickos can stop ogling me.”

  “Nope,” Chris said. “Just an address for a Club Voodoo.”

  Suddenly, TJ remembered the black woman from the night before, the one that had visited their table after Titties’s ten minutes of fame. She had told him something. When you’re ready, you can come see me. Come see her where? She had given him that fucked-up doll, so that address on the tag must’ve been important.

  “Yeah, Club Voodoo? That’s a strip club just around the corner,” Harry said. “With ethnic girls. They won’t be open this early.”

  TJ’s mind was already made up. He went to his suitcase and grabbed some panties and a bra—the former blue and the latter white, but he didn’t care. Matching undergarments was something a girl worried about, not him. A pair of jeans and a nondescript tank top would do. He didn’t want to attract attention.

  Chris noticed the clothes. “Going somewhere?”

  TJ slipped his legs into the panties. “Matter of fact, I am. Going to that club to find some answers.”

  “You don’t want to stay a chick?”

  TJ glared at his friend. “Maybe you get off to seeing me squirm like some slut, but I would like my dick back, thank you very much. And then when I’m back to normal, you two can realize how gay you both are. You both just beat your dicks to a naked guy.”

  “A really sexy guy,” Harry mumbled.

  The rest of the clothes were simple to put on. TJ had been with enough girls to know the trick with bras—snap the hooks in front, then swing it around and put your breasts into the cups. Easy as pie. The material inside the cups was really comfy, and hid his bullet-shaped nipples reasonably well. Next was the tank top and the jeans, which were skin-fucking-tight over his ass. Chris gave him a catcall once the zipper was up and the button snapped.

  “Shove it,” TJ told him.

  “I’m just appreciating a real sexy lady in my hotel room.”

  TJ gave him the universally-accepted gesture of go fist yourself.

  Club Voodoo was just off Canal Street, a few minutes’ walk from the hotel TJ and his bros were staying at. TJ was thankful for this—the less time he spent out on the morning streets of New Orleans as a girl, the better. He didn’t want anyone to look at him. He just wanted to make his way to the club in peace and figure out what the hell was going on. And maybe his hips wouldn’t be swaying when he made the return trip.

  Club Voodoo’s marquee jutted out over the sidewalk, proclaiming: LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX. On any other day, TJ would’ve been happy to pull out a twenty and have a bootylicious gal put her ass right in his lap. Maybe a little more and she’d give him head. It wasn’t unreasonable to expect that. Money was the secret to a girl’s heart. Throw out enough cash and she’d probably bend over and let him fuck her right in the ass. It was all about that green, baby.

  According to the times posted on the door, the place wouldn’t open until two o’clock. TJ checked his phone. Seven-thirty. He knocked anyway.

  A burly African-American man in sunglasses wearing a black t-shirt with CLUB VOODOO over the right breast opened the door. “Club’s closed.” Then he pulled his sunglasses down and stared at TJ from bottom to top. “She’s waiting on you.”

  “Who?”

  He held the door. “Dominique. Upstairs in the first VIP lounge.”

  TJ stepped inside, knowing very well that the man was staring at his ass. He didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, but he just knew. Like a sixth sense. A woman’s intuition. Something like that. He resisted telling the bouncer to go bend over and shove his head where the sun don’t shine. The old TJ would’ve done that. But now he was skinny and a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.

  Strip clubs, as it turned out, weren’t very lively when they were closed. Some cleaning crew was vacuuming the carpet and wiping down the tables. Everything had an odor of tobacco and alcohol and cheap perfume. Without the stage lights on, the place was drab and colorless.

  A
spiraling staircase went up to the second floor. TJ followed it all the way up and entered the first room on the right, marked VIP ROOM 1. Inside was a gaudy burgundy couch, a stripper pole, and a black woman with a glass of champagne in her hand. TJ recognized her immediately.

  “Nice magic trick,” he said. “I know it was you. Now you want to turn me back? I’d like to have my dick again.”

  “It wasn’t a magic trick,” Dominique-sans-skull-mask said. “Magic tricks are about pretending. There was no pretending in what happened to you. You are a real woman.”

  TJ pointed to his female body. “The ass, the pussy, and the tits. Yep, it’s all right here. Hey, it’s great. I’m honored. It was even a little fun there, you know, giving it all a test drive. But I’m here to hand back the keys. No purchase, amiga. I can’t afford it.”

  Dominique sipped on the champagne. “You sure do run your mouth. The other girls fall for this?”

  TJ laughed. He reached for his wallet—which, in a pair of girls’ jeans, was a mighty accomplishment to stuff into one of the pockets. That’s what purses were for, but he wasn’t about to start acting like a chick. No way in hell. He flipped it open and thumbed through the larger bills inside. Two fifties ought to do it. He flashed the cash at Dominique.

  “Do that magic again. The old switcheroo. A hundred bucks. It can’t be hard, right? What does it take, a few minutes?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot do that.”

  “What? Why the hell not? Make it happen, lady. I don’t want to wait all day for it to wear off. I’m just giving you a tip to speed up the process. It is temporary, right?”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  TJ breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Thank fucking Christ. You were scaring me there. Being stuck as a woman, that’d be—”

  “It’d be what?” Dominique stood. “Awful?”

  TJ’s memory of the woman from last night was a bit hazy. He remembered Titties most of all, laying on the table and letting them take shots off her tits. That was fun. What he didn’t remember was how tall Dominique was. Granted, there had been no reference point before. As a girl, she towered over him. Easily six-feet-tall in her heels.

  TJ took a step back. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  Dominique placed the glass of champagne down. “What did you think of your friends eyeing you? They were always looking at you this morning, yeah?”

  He snorted. “Fucking fags is what those dudes are. I’m a guy, obviously. They’re getting their cocks out for some naked guy. Bunch of morons. But hey, I guess some guys have a little gay in them. Not me, though. I’m totally rock-hard straight.”

  “So you weren’t aroused. Not the tiniest bit?”

  “Hell no, lady.”

  “You didn’t like how they treated you?”

  “Fuck no!”

  When TJ went back to the hotel room—hopefully with his male body again—he was going to lay down some ground rules about roommate etiquette. No walking around naked. No jerking off in view of others. No touching that stupid doll. Okay, sure, maybe it did feel good when they played around with it. A female body had several buttons to push, and his wasn’t any different in that regard. But thinking of their stupid grinning faces just made him cringe.

  Dominique came toward him. Unlike the night before, she was in full clarity now, wearing a black dress that hugged all her curves. Maybe she worked at Club Voodoo. Maybe a stripper. TJ thought about it, then decided probably not. Nah, she was one of the higher-ups. Manager, maybe. She dressed too nice to be out on the floor shaking her booty and smashing her tits into old men’s faces. And a stripper wouldn’t be around at seven-thirty in the morning.

  “How much weight do you think you’ve lost?”

  TJ shrugged. “Seventy pounds? I don’t know. You should be telling me.”

  “And height?”

  “Six or seven inches.”

  Dominique nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably right. Do your friends have a nickname for you?”

  “Well, usually it’s just TJ, but sometimes—”

  “A black piece of ass? Negress? Honey Tits?”

  “Hey, wait a—”

  Then Dominique kissed him. Right there in the VIP lounge. TJ wasn’t expecting it. She didn’t have the look of a woman interested. But he wasn’t about to push her off and complain! Any action was good action, especially after suffering through that hell of having his friends watch him masturbate. So he kissed her back. Her lips tasted of champagne, and her flowery perfume smelled so much better than the stench downstairs.

  TJ briefly thought about why he wasn’t getting a boner. Oh yeah, different equipment.

  She pushed him up against the door. A hand came to his breast. He returned the favor, squeezing the yielding flesh just underneath her black dress. The dark color of her outfit didn’t give away the volume of her chest, but she was definitely stacked. Not Titties-level, but still admirable. She had definitely received a blessing from the boob fairy. He found the nipple and rolled it between his fingers, stimulating it to full erection.

  His other hand went lower, going between her legs and up to where her treasure box awaited, untouched and surely moistened.

  Dominique pulled away suddenly, leaving him gasping for breath.

  “You won’t be changing back. Not yet,” she said, casually circling the stripper pole. “It has to run its course.”

  TJ’s eyes followed her swinging hips. That dress was super clingy in all the right places. “Hey, I’m down with being a girl. Lesbian stuff? Sure. If you want to get freaky right here and do some sixty-nining, I ain’t saying no to that! Whatever you want, baby. Even if I don’t have a dick.”

  “You really are a ladies' man.”

  “All the way, baby,” said TJ, showing Dominique one of his trademarked winks. She was slowly coming around to him. Hey, making out with a guy in a girl’s body was probably just a little weird for her. He still had the moves. And as a female, he definitely had the longevity to perform just as long as she could. He didn’t have a cock, but he could make do with his fingers. All ten of them. “So, what do you say?” TJ thrust his hips forward. “Wanna take these clothes off so I can take you to Bang Town? The ride there’s free.”

  “Tempting,” she said. “But your charms don’t work on me. Never will.”

  “Well, maybe once I’m back to being a guy—”

  “No. The thought of your male hands running along my body makes me want to vomit.”

  Wow, okay then, thought TJ. Dominique was one of those gals with hard skin. She needed to be loosened up a little before she opened her legs to him. Her pussy was behind a deadbolt and lock combination. He just had to find the right key. But wasn’t that the fun of a challenge?

  Dominique reached for something sitting at the base of the stripper pole. TJ saw that it was that goddamn black doll again. The same exact one. How the hell had it gotten inside the club? He hadn’t brought it. Then again, he had magically turned into a black girl overnight. In comparison, the black doll warping from the hotel room to Club Voodoo’s prestigious VIP room wasn’t as impressive. It was a parlor trick.

  TJ shuddered when she picked it up.

  “I bought this three years ago,” Dominique explained. “I knew of its importance before I had a reason to use it. Astonishing, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever. You gonna use that thing on me?” Having Dominique play with the doll instead of Chris and Harry wasn’t a bad idea. Though, if she wanted it bad enough, TJ would’ve stripped down and touched himself without the aid of some supernatural doll. A girl watching another girl masturbate was always hot, even if he was that girl.

  Instead, Dominique pulled back a piece of fabric right where the doll’s heart would’ve been. There was a pocket underneath. She produced three small pieces of paper—TJ didn’t see from where—along with a black ink pen. She started to write.

  “What is it you like about women? Wait, I think I know.” Once finished, she folded eac
h piece of paper and stuffed it into the little hidden pocket and closed the flap of fabric.

  TJ shivered. “So what was that, huh? Is that gonna turn me back?”

  Dominique was smiling. “Not quite. You’ll soon realize what I’ve done once Marcus comes in the room.”

  Marcus? TJ thought. Big black muscle-man? The door opened. Yep, it was him. The bouncer dude who had been staring at his round ass in those tight jeans, also known as Marcus. He also had some tight pants on. TJ’s eyes—which he swore he had complete control over—flitted to the bulge in front. He hadn’t meant to. It just sort of happened, like checking out a girl and instinctively looking at her cleavage. Well, instead of salivating over some titties, TJ found himself thinking about how much heat that bouncer Marcus was packing. His loins tingled.

  TJ rubbed his temples. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

  Dominique took a seat on the gaudy couch and resumed sipping from her champagne. “You’ll find that your new desires are more in tune with how you believe girls should act. The rule book according to TJ. As a girl, you have to play by those same rules.”

  TJ glanced at Marcus’s crotch again. “Fuck you.”

  “No, actually. There’ll be none of that.”

  TJ was starting to sweat. His mind was like a fifteen-pound bass on the end of a fishing line. He kept trying to reel it in, turning those mental cranks with all the force he could muster. But it wouldn’t listen. His brain kept telling him to look at Marcus’s crotch. You know what that is, huh? That’s a dick. You like dicks. Just don’t make it easy for him. And he remembered Chris and Harry again in the hotel room. They had been naked the whole time and he hadn’t thought to take action! It was like turning down a free buffet. Only idiots did that.