Tucker considered, but then his bladder screamed at him. “Nope.”
The gas station bathroom was just around the corner from the entrance, behind a freezer full of bagged ice and a payphone that looked like it hadn’t been touched since when George W was in office. There was just one door. Tucker cringed as his fingers pushed it open. There were two stalls on the left. The first one was closed—and occupied by the look of it. The last one didn’t even have a door. The whole thing reeked of piss.
Yep, I definitely won’t get murdered in here, Tucker thought. No way in hell.
He shuffled into the last stall on the left, eyed the yellow-stained toilet full of murky water and crumpled tissue paper, unzipped his pants, and reached for his dick. Only there wasn’t anything to grab. Tucker, now feeling sweat rising through his pores on the nape of his neck, reached lower—because obviously his dick was down there. Nothing. No flaccid penis to aim. Not even a pair of testicles. The front of his underwear was just fucking empty. And Tucker kept thinking, Well that can’t be, so he felt along his crotch until his fingers pressed between a pair of lips and across a wet slit. A tingle shot up his spine.
And then he gasped.
“Jiggly Joyce,” whispered the man in the next stall. “Jiggly Joyce … she has a sweet voice. Say something in that sweet voice, Miss Jiggly Joyce.”
Tucker cleared his throat. “Mister, I’ve been looking for you. And I’ve been thinking about that cock you said you have.” He covered his mouth, but he couldn’t stop speaking! “Give me a chance, and I’ll make you real happy tonight.”
The man laughed. “I know ya will, Miss Joyce. That’s why I be here.”
Tucker concentrated on making a run for the door, but his legs wouldn’t goddamn respond. It was like someone had glued his shoes in place. But he could still move them; he just couldn’t use them to move himself closer to the exit. And that fucking voice! No matter how Tucker manipulated his vocal cords or squeezed his throat, he sounded like that bimbo Jiggly Joyce. And he couldn’t remove his hand from his new crotch. Now he was really starting to worry. It looked like a pussy. It felt like a pussy. His cock and balls were gone, and he had no answer for it.
“I know you have some mighty fine lips there, Jiggly Joyce. Rodney wants to try them out. What d’ya say, honey? It’s been a long time. Pamela was good at it, but she ain’t around no more.”
Tucker looked at the stall wall—the only thing separating him from the disgusting truck driver. There was a hole carved out about waist-level, three inches in diameter. Next to it was a scrawl made out in permanent black marker: SEE HERE FOR A GOOD TIME. Right when Tucker finished reading it, the head of a cock poked through. Oh no! Fuck no! Fuck you! But he couldn’t do a damn thing, because he was Jiggly Joyce, and he felt like he had to be Jiggly Joyce. She loved cock. And right then, so did Tucker. He rubbed his damp pussy and sat down on the edge of the grimy toilet seat. Perfect level. Mystery Man had shoved his cock all the way through the hole, all six inches of it. His mouth was watering.
“Rodney wants to see if Joyce lives up to her word,” the man said.
“Oh she’ll do ya real nice,” Tucker replied, giggling. It was like he was vomiting out a bimbo’s voice. He tried to swallow it back down, but his stomach wouldn’t listen. It just kept coming out. And he couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s cock. When he leaned in toward it, he knew he had lost. He fought hard, trying to use every muscle in his body. None of them listened. He leaned right up to it until his lips touched that throbbing cock, and then it pushed into his mouth. Tucker—whether he wanted to or not—was now sucking cock.
“That’s real nice,” the man said. “I like you, Miss Joyce. You know how to treat a man.”
Someone else was at the wheel. Tucker kept telling himself that. Even as the full taste of the stranger’s cock spread all over his tongue, he knew it wasn’t him doing this. He wasn’t gay, he didn’t want to suck someone’s cock. No way in hell. But Jiggly Joyce wanted to. She was a persona made up on the spot because of some stupid prank, but Tucker could almost feel her presence inside his head. She had a voice, likes and dislikes. She wanted to suck that cock. She wanted to please that creep in the other stall, and that meant giving him a full blowjob. And Tucker had no say in the matter.
With a hand furiously working at his new pussy—and by God was it wetter than hell—Tucker took that cock most of the way into his mouth and worked it with his tongue. It thickened some more. Hard as diamond, the man had said. It wasn’t untrue. He slithered his tongue underneath it, and then he felt it throbbing against the roof of his mouth, slow and steady at first, but faster as the man on the other side became more aroused. Then he closed his lips and sucked. Hard. Down south, his index finger went back to that new hole and pushed inside. Tucker moaned on that cock and pulled back, leaving a long trail of drool that connected the head of it to his slobber-covered lips. He playfully licked all that up with his tongue and brought a hand to the shaft, stroking it quick and hard.
The man expressed his approval. “Oh … my Jiggly Joyce. She made the right choice. You suck a good cock, Miss Joyce.”
Tucker heard himself say, “Thank you, mister.” He wanted to throw up.
Being in the man’s position would’ve been a dream come true—sticking his dick into a glory hole and letting a pretty gal on the other side suck him dry. Every guy had that fantasy. But this was all wrong. Regardless, his lips went back to the cock, and Tucker took it into his mouth and bobbed his head back and forth. He had to taste it. He had to feel it poking into his throat. That’s what Joyce wanted. Jiggly Joyce and her jiggling boobs. Thank God he didn’t have any of those. He glanced down to make sure—when his mouth wasn’t stuffed with cock. He only had to deal with a pussy, which continued to throb and release metric fuck-loads of juice. One finger wasn’t enough anymore, so he pushed two in. It was a tight fit, but his pussy thanked him for it by exploding with pleasure. He penetrated himself hard while his thumb flicked his swollen clit. It was his first pussy, and he knew exactly what to do. All the hot spots. He told himself it was because he had been with other girls, but he wasn’t so sure.
“Hope you’re ready for a sweet dessert, my honey,” the man announced. “Got one coming.”
Tucker was ready. He/Joyce loved sucking some tasty cock, but the real prize was what came in the end. He kept his throat open. The stranger began to thrust a little, making him moan and rub his snatch a little harder. Without that stall in the way he was sure he’d get a good face-fuck. Maybe another time. That hard cock really began to pulse, and then it exploded into his throat. Tucker—being the obedient cock-slave that he was to good men like Mystery Man—enclosed his lips tight so that not a single drop would escape. He swallowed every spurt, every little drip. The warm, gooey release oozed down his esophagus and into his waiting belly. The man had been right; what a sweet dessert it was!
The cock slipped out. Tucker continued rubbing himself down below, alternating between playing with his clit and thrusting two fingers into his tight cunt. His lower abdomen was burning-hot, causing him to tremble all over. Drool trickled from his bottom lip as he moaned, and then the moans turned into squeals. The bathroom echoed, his voice returning twice over. Everything was moaning with him. With two hands he fucked himself and pleasured his pulsing clit. The orgasm crashed over him like a wave on a shore. He was consumed by it, taken by the erotic tendrils of pleasure that shot out from his loins. Warm juice ran all down his fingers and his thighs, dripping to the floor. He closed his eyes and surrendered to the heavenly bliss.
When he came to, the man was gone. He peered through the hole and checked under the stall, but no one was inside it. He was alone in the bathroom—a bathroom that suddenly smelled of cum and female juices. Tucker looked down at the pussy between his legs, and the release all over his fingers. The inside of his mouth still tasted of jizz.
He lunged for the trash can and vomited.
“Dude, what the hell was the hold-up?�
�� Zane asked when Tucker returned to the car. “That was the longest piss ever.”
“I realized I had to take a dump, too,” Tucker told him, figuring that was a better explanation than what actually happened. Even after throwing up the cum and whatever the hell else was in his stomach, he could still taste the man’s cock on his tongue. It just wouldn’t go away.
“Yeah? Well, our favorite creepster decided to go silent on me. Didn’t even say a word after you left.”
Bet I know why, Tucker thought, glancing around the gas station for any other semi-trucks. There were several parked on the far side by the diesel pumps. A couple were dark-colored. He started the engine and drove back onto the interstate.
The motel came into view after ten minutes. Tucker pulled in, bought a room for the night, and parked. It was one of those cheap roadside inns for quick overnight stays, the sort that only reminded him of terrible horror movies where the bad guys only moved at a walking pace and yet somehow always managed to catch the good guys. Before heading in, he scanned the lot for any big rigs. There was one by the entrance, but the cab was red. Not Mystery Man. That was good. And the CB had been silent the whole way to the motel. Maybe the gas station blowjob was the end of that shit. Tucker sure hoped so. He was already going to have to deal with that memory for the rest of his life.
But there was one other problem—he still had a fucking pussy.
In spite of devouring a whole bag of chips and riding the caffeine high through a bottle of soda, Zane quickly crashed onto the bed while some rerun of I Love Lucy was playing on the tube. Meanwhile, Tucker shut himself in the bathroom, lowered his pants, and fully inspected what was between his legs for the first time with a clear head. No Joyce telling him to suck some stranger’s cock.
“I’ll be damned.”
Tucker didn’t know how else to react. Yep, there it was. That’s a real pussy. As real as any I’ve seen. Though it couldn’t be true. Earlier in the day, he had taken his dick out in a McDonald’s bathroom and used it to take a piss. He clearly remembered it. And now it wasn’t there. David Copperfield would’ve been fucking impressed.
He looked in the mirror. A guy with his pants down exposing his genitals—which, in this case, happened to be a bona fide pussy. There was a fine amount of pubic hair there too, which Tucker hadn’t noticed until now. It was soft and trimmed. And blonde. Carpet matches the drapes. Well that wasn’t true. Blonde his pubic hair might’ve been, but Tucker had brown hair on his head. That hadn’t changed. He even closely inspected the roots just to make damn sure of it. Nope, nothing else was different. He was just Tucker if Tucker had a pussy instead of a dick.
After making sure that Zane was fully out, Tucker locked himself in the bathroom and took off his clothes. Though he had promised himself to forget everything about that gas station bathroom incident, he thought about fingering himself again. It had all happened on autopilot; the persona of Joyce was a girl, and she knew how to properly touch herself down where it felt good. And Tucker had been there the whole time. He hadn’t been in control, but he had been along for the ride. His fingers remembered.
Jesus, I need to see a goddamn doctor, Tucker thought. What if I get periods now? What if I can get pregnant? Do I have a fucking uterus?
And then his hand went down below, and all was forgotten.
It was just as he remembered—the moist lips, the hard little clit that seemed to be begging for his attention, and that narrow yet flexible hole that led up to some mysterious dark void inside his lower abdomen. A hole for dicks. No, stop thinking of it like that. It was a hole for curious fingers.
He had reached orgasm back in that gas station bathroom. At least Tucker presumed he had. Unless there was something more intense for girls than the toe-curling, mind-numbing pleasure that had filled his entire body. No, that had to be it. He wanted to achieve that again. Because, for one reason or another, he was still super turned-on. No thinking about cocks this time, or blowing a creepy stranger. Instead, it was just the recognition of a pussy between his legs. Tucker was definitely familiar with pussies. And now he owned one, and it felt pretty goddamn amazing to touch it.
Tucker plopped his naked butt on the toilet lid and spread his legs. Bathrooms weren’t exactly known for their comforts to aid masturbation, but it would have to do. The wetness along his lower lips was completely obvious. He rubbed his fingers across the outer folds, and then brought them to his nose for a smell. The scent definitely belonged to a girl. Thus, Tucker started picturing the girls he had fucked over the years and felt his crotch responding. Only it wasn’t an erection. Rather it was centered deeper in his body, like a warmth just up behind where his pussy was. It wasn’t bad at all. If this was what girls felt when they got aroused, then Tucker could get used to it.
He pushed a finger down the middle, and then curved it up inside his new hole. His feet came off the ground until only his toes remained on the cold tiles. His knees started to shake. Yet Tucker had to continue. His body wanted this. His pussy wanted this. He fingered himself until his whole body was shaking, until he had to cover his mouth so Zane wouldn’t hear him and wake up. Everything between his legs was on fire. He moved his finger back and forth so quickly that his wrist started to ache, and then he rubbed his palm across his clit. It was all fantastic. The tingles started, and he pumped himself to the point of exhaustion, reaching for that last few feet to pull himself to the top of a Mount Everest orgasm.
But it never came. He swapped hands, did the same finger dance, but his body just wouldn’t let him have that release. By then he was sweating profusely and panting nonstop. Masturbation with a pussy was tiring stuff, especially when something was preventing you from reaching the goal.
He thought of Mystery Man again and reached for his clothes.
“Jiggly Joyce … I know you’re listening in,” the radio was saying when he turned it on. Tucker closed the door. “Jiggly Joyce, you have that sweet voice. Talk to me.”
He grabbed the microphone. The voice of Joyce came out. “Hey there, mister. You gettin’ lonely without Miss Joyce? I’m right here. Been thinking about you a lot.”
The man laughed. “Is that so? Well I been thinking about you too. Thinking about … your lips … and your tongue. Those were real good. Rodney knew he’d like you.”
Tucker reached down between his legs and gave his pussy a rub. Even through his pants he could feel the moist lips, and that little bump that was his clit. It was really sensitive now. He thought about the dirty bathroom again, and the stranger’s cock coming through that hole. He rubbed harder.
“The appetizer was nice,” he said, moaning after the words came out. “But I need a full-course meal, mister. I’m hungry for more. Are you stroking that big cock for me right now?”
After a pause, the man said, “Indeed I am, Jiggly Joyce … thinking about your tits. Grab them for me.”
Gimme a moment, Tucker thought. First he had to unbutton his pants—again—and thrust his hand down between his legs. His pussy was aching for it. His fingers traced the moist lips down as far as they went, and then he found that little hole of pleasure and pushed a finger in. He leaned the seat back so he had a better angle to finger himself. Then his other hand came up and grabbed a handful of tit. They hadn’t been there before, Tucker knew, but they definitely belonged there. Thirty-four F, he had told the stranger. That’s what they were. And why would he lie? His tits were big, soft, and so much fun to play with. He squeezed and pinched until the nipple was rock-hard, and then his little fingers worked at his sopping mound. Tucker loved having a hot pussy between his legs.
“My nipples are so gosh dang hard for you, mister,” Tucker said, rolling one between his fingers. “I just want that big cock of yours to slide between my tits.” He raised his shirt, letting his funbags fall out. He cradled them in one arm, pushing them together to enhance that dark line of cleavage down the center. With a mind focused on nothing but sex, he could almost see that cock coming up between them to greet
his lips. He’d surely give it a teasing lick, and then maybe pop the tip of it into his mouth. As long as the man was happy. A nice big load on his cleavage would be the best ending. There was nothing like having his big tits covered in hot cum.
“Oh … Joyce … there aren’t many gals quite like you on this road. You’re one of Nevada’s finest. I’d love for you to ride with me. Take you clear across the country if it made you happy. ‘Cause all I want is for you to be happy, Miss Joyce.”
Tucker grinned. “And I’ll make you happy. Cross my heart. As long as you take that piece of meat you have and use it on me. Think you can do that?”
The man laughed. “It’s got your name on it.”
Tucker caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror. God, he was so fucking sexy. Even under moonlight his blonde hair almost shined. He made a few poses with his plump lips, picturing a cock to encircle them around. A big fat one—what else? The man’s voice had really got him going. In no time at all he was creaming his underwear, screaming the high notes of orgasm. He didn’t care if anyone heard. His hand was down below to collect some release, and he sucked every finger dry. Nevada’s finest juice. Mystery Man hadn’t had the honor of tasting it yet, but Tucker hoped that’d soon change.
The post-orgasmic vibrations soon faded away. Tucker grabbed the microphone. “Come pick me up, mister. I need you in my life … and that cock.”
“Not tonight, Miss Joyce. But you be by that road tomorrow and I’ll let you into my rig. That sound good? Gotta take a load to California, but you can tag along. We can have some fun along the way.”
Tucker grinned, thinking about all the possibilities. “I would like that, Rodney. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Even the real dirty stuff.”
“And what about your boyfriend?”
Tucker thought of Zane. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not even a good fuck. I tasted your dick, and now I want more of it.”
“That’s my kind of girl.”
A Gender Swap Mega Bundle 6 Page 50