If he had the chance to talk to Lana herself, Lewis’s first question would’ve been, “Why me?” A house this size needed an around-the-clock service staff, including cooks, butlers, maids, and whatever the hell else he couldn’t think of. He assumed they lived on the property, or nearby. Why was there absolutely no one else who could do the job? Frankly, he was overqualified.
On the second-floor balcony, Lewis strolled to the end of the walkway, humming to himself quietly. A hallway went far into the east wing of the house. He turned into it, scanning the walls and various displays that lined both sides. In some ways, the manor was like a museum full of old relics. Lewis had heard the story a few times, about how long the house had been in the Craft family. Lana’s father had lived here, and his father before that, and many more before him. The giant walls and vast ceilings had seen many generations.
Lewis stopped at the first display. Enclosed in glass was a tiny circuit board, along with small wires and a seemingly dead nine-volt battery hooked up to it. He didn’t recognize any of the little bits and pieces. Electronics was never his strongest subject.
Above that was a picture of a girl, who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. She was holding the circuit board in her hands, while someone else had a certificate pulled up in front of her.
FIRST PRIZE, REGIONAL SCIENCE FAIR.
Lewis chuckled. “Lana, a computer nerd? Oh man. She never told me about that.” Then again, she was always full of surprises.
To the left was another display in a similar glass box. Inside was some clothing—a dirty teal tank top and tan cargo shorts, to be precise.
“She sure has a strange sense of memorabilia. They’re just clothes,” Lewis remarked, amused by the scene.
LAST EXPEDITION WITH FATHER.
Lewis’s smile faded. “Oh.”
There were a handful of photos, Polaroids taken of a girl in her late teens with an older man, grizzled in the face. Lewis easily recognized Lana, wearing the same outfit that was on display. The other person in the photos must’ve been her father. Lana never talked about him much. He never asked what happened to him. He thought it best to leave that subject alone anyway. There was no sense in bringing up ghosts of the past.
There was a map nearby too, with the continent of South America underneath lines of red marker. It must’ve been their last trip, Lewis presumed, and Lana had preserved it inside a glass box. Cherished memories, no doubt.
From there, the hallway went on and on, so dark that he couldn’t even see the end of it. Lewis spotted more displays like the first two, but decided against going forward. He had seen enough. Lana probably didn’t want him snooping around anyway.
Lewis whistled to himself, heading back to the foyer, his footsteps silenced by a thick rug. Then, the world went dark all at once. He screamed as loud as his vocal cords would allow, but his voice faded moments later. Weakness spread throughout his legs, and the ground came rushing toward his face. Yet, the impact never came. He felt two sturdy hands keeping him up, one up against his chest and another supporting his abdomen.
He wanted to ask who was there, but his lips never made a sound. A numbness set in, while Lewis tried to keep his eyes from closing. The last sounds he heard were a door closing and the rumble of an engine.
It was light out, not even a cloud in the sky. Cheerful songbirds chirped outside, perched on a small balcony railing. Noisy things they were. Each one was blue with a touch of gold on the breast, all the same size and nearly identical. Their voices were the same too, slightly out of sync, but exactly alike.
Lewis squinted at the blue sky. So much for rainy weather all weekend. That was the oddest part about it; weathermen had been going on about a slow-moving storm creeping along England, dumping a record amount of rain over the course of three days. Flash flood warnings were out everywhere. It was a dangerous situation.
Except, apparently not anymore.
Lewis blinked and rubbed his forehead. The last thing he remembered was looking out over the Craft manor foyer and then going under, as if he had suddenly fallen asleep. But that was silly; Lewis didn’t have narcolepsy. Besides, from the look of it, he had safely made it to the nearest bed without any injury. The expansive king-sized mattress could’ve fit an entire family, and the silk sheets were the softest he had ever felt.
And that stuff about being abducted and carried? Lewis shook his head. It was all a dream, nothing more. The manor was still here, and so was he. It must’ve been due to jet lag, he reasoned. His mental clock was all out of whack after flying in from California. He hadn’t adjusted since coming in on such short notice.
Yawning, Lewis propped himself up and slid his legs to the edge of the bed, causing a strange jostling sensation on his chest. He turned his head down out of instinct, expecting to see nothing serious.
Instead, his jaw dropped.
“Oh … uh … I must still be dreaming. Yeah. Still … dreaming.”
Two alien swellings greeted him from below, firm and heavy on his chest. Lewis recognized them at once, though not so quickly from this angle! And below that, once his eyes had confirmed the existence of a pair of large tits jutting out from his ribcage, Lewis saw the rest of his thin, shapely body—a narrow waist leading down to wide hips and two hairless legs hanging just above the floor.
He was frozen in place, overcome by shock.
This is what PTSD must be like, he thought to himself. Yeah, that’s it! That stupid Tibet incident has got me having nightmares about being a woman again.
Lewis tried not to stare at his crotch, but his eyes settled there regardless, confirming the fear of his own lost manhood. Yep, there wasn’t any sign of it. There wasn’t much to see with his legs together, but the thin line of pubic hair leading down below was enough to suggest the worst. From the neck down, he was everything that his true body wasn’t: hairless, voluptuous, and undeniably female.
Lewis closed his eyes and breathed in. The realization of it being a dream kept his anxiety at bay. There was nothing to worry about, right? It wasn’t real, despite how authentic it all seemed. Just being aware of the dream was rare enough, not to mention the actual weight hanging on his chest, along with two pink nipples erect in the morning sunlight, both thick and turgid. Lewis felt those in unparalleled detail, along with the distinct absence between his legs. There was a perceptive sensitivity further back where his eyes couldn’t see, a focalized point of nerve endings. Lewis knew what it was—he could picture it in detail.
It was like being in Tibet again, except without the pregnant belly.
And, as he remained there, still so as to not send those jiggly mounds on his chest off into irritable motion, the dream continued. The birds and their songs went on just outside the window. Sunlight warmed his skin. The edge of the silk sheet grazed his hairless thigh. Long hair tickled his upper back.
“Okay Lewis, might as well have a look,” he said aloud, ignoring his obvious female voice. It was expected, after all—and not something new. Also, was that just his imagination, or did he have an English accent? The way in which it sounded through his head wasn’t recognizable, but there was still something about it that seemed familiar, certain syllables maybe, the involuntary motion of the tongue over vowels. The echo was a voice he knew.
No. No freakin’ way!
Slender legs gracefully fell to the floor, tiny toes sinking into the carpet. Pushing himself upright, Lewis recalled an almost-forgotten balance—the one of a woman’s body. Wide, rolling hips carried him across the spacious room, each step so silent that he could hear his own heart thumping away inside his chest, trying to burst free.
The bedroom and bathroom were combined as one, he saw, with a white porcelain tub sitting in the center of the room. The carpet transitioned into smooth tile, and Lewis felt a cold chill in his toes.
The master bedroom, Lewis thought to himself. This must’ve been it. Lana’s own bedroom. And I’m …
The full-length mirror revealed it all, a perfect
reflection of the woman herself, naked from head to toe. Lewis had been preparing himself for the revelation, but the image staring back still stunned him all the same. Lana’s body was lean, yet curvy at the same time, toned like a runner, but full in the hips and chest.
Lewis could only stare. The woman on the other side of the glass had the same dumbfounded expression on her face.
“What a dream,” he muttered with her voice. “A bizarre, wild dream.”
Everything was so vivid and real. Lewis couldn’t find a single fault with Lana’s body, or the face he had grown accustomed to seeing. She just didn’t have that silly smirk. Otherwise she was absolutely immaculate from top to bottom, the perfect copy.
Lewis had not forgotten about the trip to Tibet and that stupid amulet. On the return trip, Lana had even joked about him wanting to become a girl again. “You know, there’s lots of stuff in the basement I haven’t even looked at. I bet we can find something to turn you into a woman again,” she had told him. It was a harmless joke, of course. Lewis had no intention of turning into the opposite sex a second time, and he pushed all those fantastical images from his head at the first chance.
Not a single thought of it had come up since. And now he was Lana Craft herself, occupying her own flesh.
“Bugger me,” Lewis blurted, before snorting. “Might as well take the opportunity. It’s not like she’s here to stop me.”
First, Lewis shamelessly felt up her breasts, caressing them in his tiny palms, outstretching his dainty fingers as far as possible around each creamy, squishy globe. They were a smudge bigger than he imagined, but that wasn’t a bad thing. And natural, best of all! Quickly, the tiny nipples became hard as rocks, agitated by his generous touch. He shoved the breasts together, loving how sensitive they were all over, but especially in the front. Tibet had taught him a lot about touching himself as a woman. It was wildly different than being a guy.
What a fucking body, Lewis admired, suppressing the urge to whistle just from looking at the woman in the mirror groping herself. It was a hot sight indeed. Without any clothes on, Lana was the embodiment of femininity itself, curved in all the right places. Lewis followed the pinch of her tiny waist with his eyes, tracing the curve to her wide hips. He turned on his toes, eyes widening as her round backside swung into view.
“What an ass!”
Suddenly, Ms. Craft’s breasts were no longer interesting. Lewis reached back, squeezing his shapely bottom without a single regret. Oh man, it was firm! All those globe-trotting adventures had given her one hell of a body, which his mind had seemingly recreated.
In fact, Lewis was beginning to approve of this strange dream. Becoming a woman again wasn’t exactly his number-one fantasy, but it was far more lucid than most. Just having control was rare enough, but the actual sensation of touching his body was akin to real life!
Shortly thereafter, Lewis started to feel warm between the legs. Lana’s body was responding as any other’s would. All the touching and innocent sightseeing had twisted her loins into a tight, warm knot. With a shudder racing up his spine, Lewis turned to face the mirror again, immediately pushing a hand between his legs to feel the warm folds for himself. His middle finger grazed something wet and velvety, causing him to bite his bottom lip.
“Shit. I’m so going to hell for this.”
Then again, Lewis reminded himself that this wasn’t a conscious choice. For some reason or another, his mind had created this dream sequence where he was free to explore Lana’s body for himself. There was no sinful intent. Besides, it wasn’t even real! He had nothing to worry about.
Fighting back a moan, Lewis pushed a finger up inside his new damp entrance. It shocked him with how sensitive it was. The process of actually touching himself down there was hot enough, but watching Lana in the mirror made it even better! Lewis was both the participant and the observer, masturbating and eyeing the beautiful woman just ahead with a hand buried between her legs. A sweet scent filled the air, snaking invisibly around his body. Lewis opened his mouth, breathing heavily, just before inhaling it all through his nose.
Lana’s nipples couldn’t have been harder. He clumsily squeezed one breast as the hand between his thighs quickened. Lewis arched his back, panting hard. Nothing else mattered as the finger dove into his tight snatch, moving in and out with furious pace. A minute passed, and everything was soaked down there. He couldn’t control himself. It was too wonderful to stop.
“Oh! Mmmmmm oh God!”
The walls echoed with her angelic voice, only adding to his arousal. Lewis kept one eye open the entire time, never letting the image leave his line of sight. She was sweating, gasping for oxygen, shaking all over. He could barely keep the floor beneath him, for the entire room seemed to lose its rightful orientation.
He was so close, seconds away. Everything in his lower abdomen was hot and turbulent. An explosion was coming, he knew, not far off. With a few more tweaks of a tender nipple and shoving his fingers as far in as they could possibly go, he’d be upon it. Lana’s sexy body was right on the cusp of orgasm.
“Enjoying yourself, I see.”
Lewis stopped. He searched around the room with his eyes, seeking the source of the voice. Quickly, he removed his hands from his body and instinctively reached for clothes to cover himself, before remembering he had none.
“Who was that?” he shrieked. “Who’s there?”
“I expected that reaction,” the voice said, emanating from each and every wall. “Lana Craft is an attractive young woman. I would probably do the same in your position, seeing how things are from the other side.” He laughed.
Lewis spun around, seeing no one else. “Were you … watching me? Where are you? Come the fuck out here right now!”
“Nope. Sorry. I enjoy the show from where I’m at.”
Lewis clenched his hands into fists. “This is my dream, you know. If I tell you to come out, you will.”
“This is no dream, Lewis. It’s all real.”
His eyes widened.
“But, don’t be alarmed. You aren’t actually in her body, though that would be amusing to me. You’ve been a lucky participant in my virtual reality program. You see, you’re actually safe. Right here next to me, not more than ten feet from my computer. You’re just fine.”
“You,” Lewis started, remembering last night, the bag pulled over his head, a faint prick of a needle into his neck, and the rumble of a car’s engine carrying him off just before he slipped into unconsciousness. It was all clearer now, though he hadn’t seen the face of his attacker. “You abducted me!”
“Not what I had planned. I expected Lana Craft, but you were the only one in the house. Apologies, Lewis. It’s nothing personal between you and me. I don’t even know your last name. I was anxious to test this out on someone, so I chose you.”
Lewis turned his attention upon the room, the high ceiling and the tall walls. Everything looked and felt real, from the cold tiles against his feet to the shivers of ecstasy still running through his veins. He had almost forgotten about the near-orgasm, but his body was still turned on, reminding him of that consistent heat burning between his legs.
“You recreated her master bedroom,” Lewis observed.
“Yes.”
“And the whole manor?”
“As best I could. I don’t know what’s behind all the doors.”
“Why?”
The voice in the walls cleared its throat. “To make Lana Craft suffer.”
Lewis shuddered.
“She left me to die once. I was a partner of hers, like you’ve become. She used me on her little adventures, Lewis. Once I was a liability, she left me behind like a used tissue. Tossed me out. Forgot that I ever existed. This is my playground for her.”
Lewis placed his hands on his hips. “So you created your own version of The Sims for Lana Craft? That’s about an eleven out of ten on the creep-scale, man.”
The Voice ignored him. “She went through many iterations, many years of
research getting the details just right. I was a novice when I started, but now no more. I even fooled you with how realistic it is, everything being interpreted by your brain as authentic. You convinced yourself it was a dream, but you still second-guessed it.”
Lewis stepped back as channels of light erupted from the floor in five separate places, a foot between each. They arranged themselves into a pattern, all taking similar shapes about his height. They were digital wireframe models, all constructed with the same reference, or so it seemed to him. His suspicion was confirmed when the spaces between the lines filled in with the color of flesh, turning them into naked, motionless human women.
Each one was Lana Craft!
The Voice spoke again. “You can follow my progress right here,” he boasted. “Each version better than the last. I taught myself. See, I couldn’t do much else after she abandoned me, so I had to find a new hobby.”
Lewis started at the left, the simplest one. The recreation of Lana couldn’t have been more than a hundred polygons. The legs were sharp-edged, disproportioned, and all the wrong shape. Likewise, she was way too large in the hips and big in the chest, like some pervert’s rendition of what a human woman should look like. Her skin tone was uniform, and all the details were painted on, like the nipples, crotch, and all the parts of her face. Her hair was one funky blob.
But, as Lewis eyed the others down the line, each one became slightly more accurate. His captor refined his technique, honing his strange obsession. Lana Craft gradually became more realistic, bearing the resemblance of a real human woman by the end of the row. Along the way, her complexity increased exponentially. More polygons were appointed to each part of her body. At the end, the lines of the wireframe were so tightly packed that Lewis could hardly see any space in between. All her features were round and smooth, with even the tiniest of details modeled individually.
The last was Lana Craft—a flawless recreation down to the millimeter.
A Gender Swap Mega Bundle 6 Page 44