A Gender Swap Mega Bundle 6

by Gregor Daniels

  Rodney took another aim through the side window again, higher than before. He meant to shoot at the car this time, perhaps at the windshield, putting Zane in grave danger if he pulled his finger back on that trigger. Tucker wasn’t going to wait for that to happen. Instead of focusing on Rodney, he lunged for the wheel and cranked it hard right. The big rig took a sharp turn across two lanes, driving over the shoulder and into the ditch.

  By the time the wheels came back down to earth, the truck started to tip.

  When Tucker came to, the world was silent. No shrieks of pain. No sounds of metal twisting and snapping. No diesel engine screaming as it met its violent end. The room was all white. His mouth was as dry as the Great Salt Lake Desert it felt like, and trying to swallow made him cough. It hurt to move. It hurt to look. It hurt to breathe. He felt stuck in place.

  A familiar face hovered over him. “Tucker? Oh my God, you’re awake!”

  Tucker couldn’t get his voice to operate, so he mouthed Alicia?

  Tears streamed down her face. “I’m supposed to speak softly, I forgot. But I’m just so happy to see you’re alive.”

  Tucker moved his lips again. What happened?

  “You don’t remember?” She took a tissue to her cheeks and soaked up the tears. Once she was composed, she continued. “There was an accident back in Nevada. You were in … in some kind of crash. It involved a semi. They called our parents around ten o’clock that morning … said you were unconscious and in some hospital.” More tears came. “Tucker, I was so scared. They had to postpone the wedding. I didn’t know if … if …”

  An accident, Tucker thought. He remembered it all. And he knew some people would be asking him some loaded questions shortly, particularly about what the hell had happened. The big rig must’ve been doing seventy-five or more when he cranked the wheel. He remembered seeing the ditch coming, and feeling weightless before being thrown into the windshield. After that it was only darkness, and the sounds of mangled metal and bones cracking. And pain, lots of pain. It felt like the truck had landed on top of him. He was lucky to be alive. Maybe the other occupant hadn’t been so lucky.

  Tucker’s voice finally returned, albeit weak. “Is Zane here?”

  Alicia sniffled. “Yeah, he’s right outside. They’re only letting one of us in at a time.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “You don’t want to talk to your big sis anymore?” She smiled. “Hold on. I’ll tell him.”

  Zane came in. He was less emotional than Alicia. “Hey, dude. Got a little worried there for a while. It wasn’t looking so good that first day.”

  “First day?”

  “Yeah, it’s been four days. You were out.” He snapped his fingers. “When I saw that truck turn hard right, I knew you had done something. That took some major fucking balls.”

  Balls, Tucker thought. Oh shit. “Zane … am I—”

  “—still a chick?” He paused. “Well, the good news is you’re a smoking-hot chick. Your family was really confused until I told them everything, but they’re taking it well. Alicia is super jealous of your huge tits.”

  Tucker burst into quiet laughter, but stopped when his chest hurt.

  “I’m just fucking with you. When I saw you laying in the dirt, you were a guy again. You were ejected out.”

  “What’s the damage?”

  “Well, I don’t remember all of it, but you broke your right arm. Broke both legs. Broke a few ribs. Fractured tailbone I think. Probably some other internal stuff that I don’t remember. Everything’s got a dumb scientific name these days. Hell, maybe you broke your dick, too. You might have to live as a chick from now on whether you like it or not.”

  “Real funny.”

  Then Zane looked real serious. “Tucker … about that crash … well, I don’t really know how to tell you this.”

  “What is it?”

  There was a knock on the door. Zane glanced back. “Some guys want to talk to you, and I don’t know if it’s gonna be good news. You okay to speak to them?”

  Tucker nodded as best he could. “Who is it? Police?”

  Zane didn’t have to answer. Tucker saw for himself. Two Nevada state troopers came into the room, each taking off their wide-brimmed hats. Tucker’s eyes flitted to their badges and the guns holstered to their hips. He swallowed. Zane left the room.

  “How you feeling?” asked the first, a stocky man with skin bronzed by the scorching Nevada sun. His partner waited by the door.

  “Good,” Tucker said. “Alive.”

  “Someone was looking out for you that day,” he said. “That truck was almost unrecognizable. It rolled about three times we figure. And you weren’t wearing a seatbelt.” He stepped closer. “But we could still make out the plates. Someplace over in Salt Lake City reported it stolen the day before. Now, what I’m trying to figure out is … you were going to your sister’s wedding, but why in a semi-truck? Were you planning to dispose of it somewhere before you got to Sacramento? Sell it for some quick cash? I’m real interested in that.”

  Tucker was out of breath. “The man … another man … Rodney.”

  “What man?”

  “The other … man in the truck.”

  The trooper glanced at his partner. “You were the only one at the crash scene. There wasn’t another man.”

  Tucker wanted to scream.

  ###

  Meeting Ms. Blake

  The place was just a few steps west of the intersection of Columbus Avenue and 72nd Street, in the basement underneath a Chinese restaurant, or so Rachel was convinced. Tommy was sure that she had received bad information. There were no signs or anything—just an old stairwell leading below street-level. A pair of old wooden doors blocked the path ahead, standing in shadow in a dark concrete alcove.

  “You sure this is the place?” Tommy asked, pulling his coat tighter and glancing around. Up above, the sun was rather pleasant. Down here, breath misted from his trembling lips.

  “Ms. Blake doesn’t advertise her practice,” Rachel said.

  “Yeah, I’m getting real anxious to meet this Ms. Blake.”

  “She’s real,” Rachel told him. “A friend—”

  “—from work gave you her information, and you called her up to schedule an appointment. Yeah, I remember.” Tommy furrowed his brow. “You never consulted with me about this. I still don’t think there’s a problem.”

  Rachel reached for the knob. The door was unlocked, and it opened with a loud, echoing creak.

  “Ms. Blake will know. She’s one of the best.”

  Tommy still didn’t know what to expect. This dark entrance didn’t exactly inspire the best confidence. It was probably all a sham, or so he thought. There was nothing on the internet about this Ms. Blake. And, with the way his wife spoke, she was probably some fraud operating a shady business. Women were always susceptible to believe that nonsense, at least in his experience.

  But she had her mind on fixing whatever was wrong with their marriage, and there was no stopping her now.

  A weak light overhead showed the way. Rachel led him down a tight corridor. Tommy smelled a strong, musty odor coming from the walls. He spotted splotches of mold on both sides. To make matters worse, the ceiling was leaky. Tommy sidestepped as a drop came down right in front of him.

  “This is a five-hundred-dollar jacket,” he said.

  “You’ll survive.”

  “Unless I catch some deadly infection, sure.”

  A few yards in, the corridor opened up. Tommy was relieved to have room to breathe again, though his attention went to a shelf lined with glass jars. A shiver passed through him as he stepped closer, squinting to see inside the greenish liquid that filled each one. There were other items, suspended in the goop. The first on the left appeared to contain a human finger, though the flesh was decayed so much that Tommy couldn’t be sure. That was real promising.

  The next one over held two spherical objects. Tommy at first thought they were eyes, but the shapes weren’t
right. On top of that, he couldn’t find the pupils. They were both frozen in the molasses-like liquid, the left one slightly higher than the right. The dark, rotten color of them made Tommy want to gag. At least there was no smell.

  “What do you suppose those are?” he asked, pointing.

  “Testicles. I thought you would’ve recognized them right away. You have them,” Rachel answered.

  Tommy gulped. “Testicles? But fake ones, right? Those can’t be real.”

  Rachel shrugged. “Ask her yourself.”

  “Who?”

  Rachel gestured to a table in the center of the room, where a woman was seated. Ms. Blake, Tommy presumed. He was glad to see that she wasn’t made-up, though at this point he was sort of hoping she was. Unlike the dingy surroundings, she was clean and beautiful. Her deep green eyes sparkled under the bulb overhead, while her red curly hair almost appeared to glimmer.

  As for her outfit, Tommy wouldn’t have been surprised to see her in a traveling circus. She wore a pink bodice and a brown headband. A dozen bracelets decorated her right wrist, while her fingernails were long and black. She just needed a red tent and a sign outside, telling everyone that her price was two dollars. Then the act would be complete.

  At the center of the table was a crystal ball.

  “Please,” she said, pointing to a pair of chairs.

  Tommy burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Our marriage is nothing to joke about,” said Rachel, immediately taking a seat and making herself comfortable. “I’m willing to fix things if you are.”

  “Yeah, with a proper marriage counselor! I didn’t expect you to pay some fortune teller to read our palms, or some nonsense.”

  “Ms. Blake’s work is not nonsense,” Rachel replied adamantly. “And she doesn’t even accept payment until the job’s done.”

  “Oh, that means she’s totally legit then,” Tommy said, hands on hips. “Yep, I’m convinced now.”

  “Please, if you would,” Ms. Blake repeated, pointing to the one empty chair. “I have other clients after this session. I hope I can change your mind before you leave.”

  Tommy snorted. “Yeah, whatever. Make it quick, lady. It takes twenty minutes to get back to work from here.” He plopped himself down in the seat.

  Ms. Blake closed her eyes. She brought her hands forward, placing them on either side of the crystal ball, a few inches away. At the same time, the ball itself seemed to glow, with a strange milk-white fog swirling within.

  Tommy leaned forward, peering into the smooth glass. He couldn’t see the bulb responsible for the internal light, but it was probably in there somewhere. The crystal ball was attached to the table, covering up a hollowed-out opening which held the batteries and tiny fans to make it all appear authentic. This woman wasn’t tricking him.

  “Now you’re gonna repeat whatever Rachel told you was the problem, and make up some vague nonsense,” he said.

  Rachel put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. She’s working. And I haven’t told her anything.”

  Ms. Blake’s eyelids fluttered. “Now, a palm,” she said. “I need the woman’s palm.”

  Rachel complied.

  “Oh, this should be good,” Tommy sighed. “She’s gonna say we’re unsuited for each other, and you need to go live with your parents upstate. Great sorrow follows us around if we’re together!”

  “Hush! For once in your life, Tommy. Just let her do her thing.”

  Tommy sat back, arms in his lap. It was a wonder as to why such practice wasn’t illegal yet. Hell, he thought about getting into the fortune-telling business too. Just have some neat effects and throw down some tarot cards, and people would be lining up. It was ridiculous! Then, just tell the customers some lies with complete confidence, and he’d be rolling in the cash. It was basically a glorified form of begging, only without standing on the street with a cardboard sign.

  In a way, Ms. Blake was a genius.

  “Yes,” the strange woman spoke after a period of silence. She traced the grooves in Rachel’s palm with her fingertip, going over some of them several times. “I see the problem that lies within this union.”

  His wife leaned forward. “Do you?”

  “Without a doubt.” She released Rachel’s hand and went back to staring into the crystal ball. “One thing in particular actually. Your husband’s penis.”

  Tommy’s eyes shot open. “Wait, what?”

  “You were happy at first,” Ms. Blake went on, her eyes frozen. “But, your husband could not maintain. He cannot force himself to wait until you are ready. The urge strikes him. I see … a figure sitting in front of a screen, slumped and exhausted. The seed has been spent. An anguished soul watches from afar.”

  Rachel wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, she understands so well.”

  Tommy waved his hands in a stopping motion. “Yeah, I’ve heard enough.”

  “The solution is here, too. I can fix your pain.”

  “What, because I jerk off too much? Listen lady, I’m a guy. What do you expect? It’s natural for me to look at other women and seek sexual pleasure. It’s, like, evolution or something. There’s nothing wrong with that!”

  “But your significant other suffers because of it,” Ms. Blake explained.

  “What about me?” Rachel asked. “What about when I want it? All you do is pull up porn and masturbate. I want the intimate relationship we had at the start.”

  Tommy shook his head. “Look, I have to relieve myself. I can’t wait for you to … be in the mood. When does that happen anyway? Once a month? Guys need the release, sometimes several times a day.”

  Rachel pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her nose. “Has he cheated on me?”

  Ms. Blake shook her head. “He is loyal, but his faithfulness is deteriorating. In six months, the union will be broken. He has his eyes on a coworker, but guilt hangs over him.”

  Tommy threw his arms into the air. “Oh, great. More lies.”

  Rachel put a hand on his thigh. “Is that true?”

  “Honey, there are pretty women everywhere. What am I supposed to do? Not look? I guess I’ll have to take a blindfold with me wherever I go, huh? It’s not my fault that you didn’t end up putting out as much as I thought you would.”

  Tommy knew a slap was coming. He was expecting it. An outburst of such words definitely deserved it, even if they were entirely true. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Miraculously, Rachel didn’t hit him. She turned to Ms. Blake, wiping her eyes again.

  “You said you had a solution, right? The man I love is still inside him somewhere. I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

  “Once it is finished,” Ms. Blake assured. She reached underneath the table and pulled out a small item, enclosed between her fingers.

  Tommy thought he saw a glint of metal, but he couldn’t be sure. The fog inside the crystal ball was really swirling now, spinning up like a miniature vortex. It really was a neat effect.

  “Better days are on the horizon,” Ms. Blake told them, opening her hand. Resting on her slender palm was a chastity cage.

  “Ha! I should’ve known,” Tommy blurted.

  Rachel wasn’t fazed by the reveal. “Tommy, just take her advice. If this is really the answer to fix our problems, then why not try it?”

  “And lock my dick up in a metal cage?” Tommy harrumphed.

  “The key will be safe with your wife,” Ms. Blake explained. “When the right time comes, the cage will be removed. No more than a day. That’s all.”

  “A day? Really, it’s gonna fix me in a day?”

  “Yes.”

  Tommy stared at the chastity cage. Only weirdos wore those things, perverts who got off on women dominating them. He cringed at the thought of putting it on.

  Then again, it was only for a day, or so Ms. Blake had said. He wasn’t sure what could possibly change over the course of twenty-four hours. What was going to happen? His arousal levels would go down? Yeah, right. Once the day was u
p, his dick would spring out, and he’d go right back to giving it a good stroke.

  This little meeting was cutting into his private time as it was. Usually he fit in a quick one during the lunch hour. Tonight, he was going to be extra horny, and there was no way he was going to wait for his wife to come home from work.

  “Fine,” he finally sighed. “I’ll put it on later.”

  Ms. Blake shook her head. “No. You do it here. I must do it for you.”

  Tommy chuckled. “You? Hey, be my guest. Let me just pull it on out for you.”

  “If you would.”

  Tommy stood and circled the table, unbuttoning his pants along the way. He expected Rachel to speak up about this, but his wife remained silent, apparently convinced that this foolishness was going to do something to mend their marriage. If it made her happy for now, then he’d do it. This time tomorrow, it was coming off at once, even if he had to swipe that key from her.

  Ms. Blake presented the metal cage as Tommy pulled out his cock. There was one problem though; the cage was designed for a limp prick, and Tommy’s manhood was mostly hard, dwarfing the chastity device. There was no possible way it was going to fit.

  “One moment,” Ms. Blake said, setting aside the cage.

  Tommy gasped as the fortune teller reached forward and grasped his cock!

  “Hey, whoa! Okay lady, if you wanted it that bad, you could’ve skipped the bullshit. I’m all for getting handjobs from pretty strangers.”

  “Tommy, just let her do it,” Rachel said.

  He looked at his wife. “You’re okay with this too? Some strange woman has her hand on my dick here. Hey, if you’re into that, that’s cool.”

  “Only because it’s necessary.”

  Naturally, Tommy’s member quickly attained a full erection. He couldn’t even remember the last time Rachel had given him a handjob. That usually wasn’t her thing. Regardless, Ms. Blake’s fingers were quite skilled at the act, squeezing and twisting around his hard shaft, rubbing the head. Tommy wobbled back and forth on his toes as she focused on the tip, causing it to swell even more. Her hand was so soft and smooth, the fingers careful and applying just the right amount of pressure.