Gender Swapped Volume One

by Sophie Pert

  He was a ridiculously successful bachelor who owned his own business, lived in a loft workspace, and was handsome and erudite. I was a schlubby office drone who didn’t even own his house, was in a loveless marriage that had likely just imploded, and was covered in mud.

  Two more different people could not exist.

  But there we were, as close as two friends could be and always there for each other in their time of need. What more time could there be then now, with me standing soaked in mud and alone.

  Funny thing is I didn’t remember there being a giant hill on the other side of his house. I remembered this warehouse being in a trendy part of town filled with old converted industrial spaces that had become coffee shops and condos and restaurants that had menus that were conspicuously missing prices.

  But I didn’t want to count my luck, because I was cold and his house was warm and dry.

  I crossed the street, hoping vaguely in the back of my mind that Ryan didn’t have any company over otherwise he was about to get a rude surprise.

  The door was, as most trendy spaces are, plain and unassuming. It was heavy metal with rivets, looking for all the world like the space behind it would be cold and uninviting. I knocked and heard the echo of it bounce through the space beyond. The sound was booming and foreboding.

  But the truth was that space on the other side was so very well-appointed.

  Ryan had impeccable taste, or at least his designer did. It was done up in a sort of industrial chic, merging welded metal with dark hardwood and black glass. No expense had been spared, and it was kitted out with all of the latest gadgets. As Ryan had told me the first time I came over even the windows were electronic, some sort of complicated gizmo that made it so the glass could be controlled to tint at the push of a button.

  I knew that just on the other side of this door it opened straight into the living space, partly kitchen partly living room it was hardwood flooring in the gigantic two story space. To the right the wall was two actual stories, a metal staircase leading to Ryan’s bedroom upstairs and the lower space filled with bathrooms and guest rooms and office. To the left was Ryan’s pride and joy and the reason he was out here. A gorgeous garage filled with classic cars and the space to work on them. He had a slew of them over there, a late 60s Mustang, an early 70s Camaro, a mid 70s Charger. All sorts of classic muscle cars that he liked to tinker with.

  The space was amazing to say the least.

  The door cracked open and Ryan glanced outside, his eyes going wide at the sight of me. I wasn’t surprised, like I said, swamp creature.

  “Hello?” he said, his voice unsure.

  “Ryan,” I replied with a sigh, the mud sticking my lips together and making it difficult to speak, “Barb kicked me out and I fell in the mud across the street. Can I come in?”

  His brow furrowed, “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “What?” I said, getting slightly frustrated and shivering in the cold air, “No it’s not a joke.”

  “You’re not Sam,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Yes I am,” I insisted, a rolling crack of thunder signalling that the rain was soon to return.

  He opened the door, whatever his suspicions he obviously wasn’t threatened by me. He crossed his arms and replied, “You’re a little short to be Sam.”

  I heard the first drops of rain start, bouncing off the metal walls of the building. I didn’t want to get caught in the rain again and get even more soaked. I searched for a way to prove who I was, it came to me in a flash, “While drunk you once told me that you still keep your childhood stuffed bear under your pillow.”

  “Oh shit,” his eyes went wide, then squinted as he tried to make me out beneath the mud, “Wow I guess you are Sam. Come on in.”

  He stepped aside and I stepped past him, saying, “Thanks.”

  The place was even nicer than I’d remembered, and spotless too which is something you wouldn’t expect from a bachelor. I immediately felt out of place and didn’t want to make a mess.

  “Sorry about the mud,” I muttered quietly.

  “No worries buddy,” Ryan said jovially, “Just head down to the shop if you don’t mind. On the right as you walk in there is a cleaning area and in the back there's a shower you can use and stuff. I’ll grab you a towel.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered again, turning away as he made his way over to the living area.

  I stepped into the shop, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind me on the hardwood floor. The lights in the shop turned on automatically, revealing all of the pretty cars all lined up and shiny in a row. The shower here must be for emergencies or if he gets greasy working on cars or whatnot. I suppose this qualifies as an emergency.

  I looked down at my mud covered body in clear light for the first time. No wonder he didn’t recognize me. I wouldn’t recognize me at all. I was completely unrecognizable.

  The mud covered me completely and it was thickly slapped on. It made it damn near impossible to see anything other than a vaguely humanoid form.

  I needed to undress if I was going to get clean, so I pulled at the mud of my chest to try to peel it away so I could get to my suit jacket underneath. But there was something weird about this mud. No matter how much I pulled at it it seemed there was just more there. I tried and I tried, pulling off great big globs of it, but I never got to clothing. I couldn’t even feel my clothing through it. Giving up on trying to get to my suit jacket I tried my pants instead. Still nothing, my hands just continued to slip through the slick mud.

  I gave a great big sigh and gave up. Reasoning that the suit was a write off anyways I resolved to just accept it. I needed to shower off as much of this mud as possible before any clothing could come off.

  I walked over to the shower and turned it on. Within moments it seemed it was steaming hot and I stepped in.

  I closed my eyes and let the water run over me. For the first time in what seemed like forever I felt warmth.

  In spite of the mud being seemingly impossible to pull off it seemed to melt in the water. I felt it run off of me easily, slipping away from my body until I felt the hot water pounding against my bare skin.

  I stepped in and around, I didn’t use my hands to help I just let the water work its magic, peeling away all the layers of mud and scouring the skin beneath it. The water slipped and splashed against all of my curves and crevices and I felt it hit me.

  It wasn’t until I felt the last drop of mud slip off my leg that it hit me.

  I was feeling water on my bare skin.

  My eyes still closed I placed a tentative finger on my stomach.

  I felt the touch of skin against skin.

  What the hell had happened to my clothes.

  With my eyes still closed and my head full of confusion I let my fingers explore. Both hands now grasped at my stomach, revealing smooth bare skin to my touch. One hand slipped down, sliding over a smooth bare thigh. The other slid up, touching-

  What the hell?

  Were those breasts?

  My eyes shot open and I looked down. The air was steamy but it was unmistakable. I was staring down at a body not wearing a stitch of clothing, and what's more this definitely wasn’t my body. It wasn’t the body of a 52 year old out of shape man. It was… It was…

  I slipped my hands between my thighs, confirming my suspicions with that unique feeling of absence.

  I was a woman!

  “Are you decent?” I heard Ryan call out from the other room.

  Panicked, my strangled cry shouted back, “NO!”

  “Okay,” he said, pausing then continuing, “I’ll just leave the towel here on the counter.”

  I heard the footsteps as he walked back into the main room.

  I placed one hand against the wall of the shower, bracing myself as I shook with fear. Staring down at my body there was no mistake, but I had to see it properly anyways.

  I gingerly stepped out of the shower and turned to look at myself in the mirror.

  No
doubt about it. I was a woman.

  I had long blonde hair, full perky breasts, wide hips, long legs, pouty lips and blue eyes.

  I was the very definition of a bombshell, and even as scared as I was this body couldn’t seem to help but make a pouty and sultry face in the mirror. I’d heard of resting bitch face, but never resting sultry face.

  This new person standing in front of me looked to be late 20s, she was fit and phenomenal. I’d never seen anyone as attractive as her in person before. Her skin was pale and she had a flush to her upper chest and face that I chalked up to the heat of the shower and the panic of the situation.

  I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there silent and blinking in disbelief. I lifted my right hand, and she did the same in the reflection. I waved hello, and she followed suit.

  This couldn’t be real. I was a man. I wasn’t this… This attractive woman.

  I shook my head, reasoning to myself that this had to be an illusion. That this couldn’t be real. These things just didn’t happen.

  I knew I had to do something, had to try to wake myself up.

  Smack! I slapped myself across the face as hard as I could but sure enough looking in the mirror only this gorgeous bombshell looked back.

  I grabbed at my skin, raking my long fingernails across it and trying to pry the skin away, to reveal the man I was beneath. But nothing happened. I still saw only her in the mirror.

  I gripped the counter, my head spinning as I tried to gain a grip on what had happened.

  What the hell.

  Okay, I thought to myself, You’re a rational person let’s just work this out. You’re obviously not a woman because you’re a man and you’ve always been a man. So that means that this has to be an illusion of some sort. You have to be imagining this. Maybe you hit your head? Yeah that makes sense… Right?

  I stood up straight and stared at myself. If this is all an illusion then there has to be a way to prove it wrong. There has to be something I can do that I couldn’t do in my male body. Okay let’s start with these.

  I grabbed her breasts, her full and perky breasts. I held them in each hand and squeezed them, feeling their full flesh. I felt her nipples harden under my palms as I gently squeezed them again and again.

  This couldn’t be natural for a man, I thought, Men don’t have breasts. Except I was an out of shape man and, well… Okay so my chest didn’t feel like this. Didn’t feel so smooth and full and fantastic…

  I bit my lip, feeling something unfamiliar inside of me. It was like a tiny workman shoveling coal into a fire. A warmth that was slowly building inside of me as the engine began to grow.

  Immediately I released my grip, my breasts heaving as I took in heavy breaths to try to calm myself.

  That was odd, but it could mean… Just forget about it. That could all be explained away, surely there is a rational explanation for that. But there is no way to explain away this.

  I darted my hand between my legs and used one finger to part the folds of her vagina. I don’t know what I expected to find. A cock hidden inside? What I didn’t expect was her dripping wet sex, the walls of it contracting around my fingers as I plunged them deep inside. I didn’t expect that little coalfire inside of me to spark off, for the wheels to start turning, for the steam to start pumping through my veins as I felt something build inside of me.

  Oh god that feels good.

  I looked in the mirror, seeing the woman reflected there with her mouth open in an O, her breath catching as she plunged her fingers inside of her dripping pussy again and again and again.

  What the hell am I doing? I thought, pulling my hand out from between my legs. This isn’t the time for that.

  The absence was nearly unbearable, I gasped with the feeling of it, the pulsing need between my legs. Exhaling sharply I tried to centre myself.

  I tried to remember who I was. Regardless of my body I was Jim, a 52 year old man who is soon to be divorced. I dutifully ignored the gorgeous woman in the mirror and set about drying myself off.

  As soon as the heat of the moment had passed I found it easy to forget about the change and focus on myself. I was cold, naked and wet in the middle of a big open garage. So when I wrapped the towel around myself I was grateful to get some fluffy warmth around me.

  Of course that just meant I had to face the next challenge, which was figuring out just what the hell I was supposed to do now. There is no way Ryan would ever believe me if I walked out looking like this, but I couldn’t see any other choice which meant I had to think of some way, some fast way, to show him just who I was.

  “Are you almost done in there?” I heard him call from the other room.

  “Okay,” I cried out, “I’m coming out. Just… Don’t freak out…”

  “What?” came the confused reply.

  I took a deep breath and stepped around the corner.

  Ryan was standing in the middle of his living room, he was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans and looked more than a little irritated at having his night interrupted by some friend who had spent most of their time here so far yelling at him. His arms were crossed and his thick muscular forearms were bulging over his wide chest. He had a furrowed brow and a tight jaw and all of that changed as soon as I came into view.

  It was like he melted, all of the hard angles going out of him as he took a step back. I almost had to giggle when I pictured this from a third person perspective. Big strong man like Ryan backing away from a wispy blonde in a towel. The picture was hilarious.

  Living it, however, was a different story altogether.

  “Who are you?” he asked, suspiciously.

  “Look,” I said, putting my hands up in the universal symbol for don’t shoot hear me out, “I’m Sam.”

  “No,” he replied, picking his words slowly and deliberately, “Sam is a lot older than you. He is also more… more of a man and less of a woman.”

  I smiled a bit sheepishly, “Yeah that part I can’t really explain, but trust me I am Sam.”

  “I don’t believe you,” there was a moment of silence and then he started looking around the room. “Sam? Where are you? Where are you hiding? If this is some sort of a joke it isn’t funny it’s just confusing.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Hey you don’t get to-” I cut him off.

  “Mrs. Stuttersworth,” I said with a sigh, “You named the bear Mrs. Stuttersworth because you had a stutter and also had a crush on Mrs. Buttersw-”

  “Okay,” He cut me off with a cry, “Okay I believe you. So either you’re Sam or Sam just told a complete stranger something he knows I would kill him over.”

  I smiled, sighed and responded, “Nope, I’m Sam.”

  There was a beat, a moment of silence between the two of us as he looked me up and down in shock, “What the hell?”

  “Oh believe me I know,” I said, exasperated, “Beer?”

  I walked over to the fridge as Ryan nodded, he watched me walk past and if I wasn’t crazy I don’t think he was looking at me like he’d ever looked at my old body. Considering the favors he had done and all of the craziness of the situation I decided not to call him on it. Instead I pulled three cold beers out of the fridge and placed them on the counter. I cracked open one can and drained in in one long drink. Then I grabbed the two full ones, handed one to Ryan and took the other with me to the couch.

  Flopping down into it I cracked my second beer and took a generous swig. After a moment of watching me he shook off whatever weirdness he was feeling with an visible shudder and cracks open his beer as well. He leans against the counter, taking a tentative swig and watching me for a minute.

  “Okay, so you’re Sam,” he said, as much to reassure himself as to say to me, “So what the hell happened?”

  I let out a deep sigh, took another swig of my beer and told him the simple story in a single rush of words, “I walked in on Barb cheating on me with the neighbour, she told me to get out, walked through the rain, fell in a
ditch, and crawled out a naked woman.”

  There was a pause as Ryan tried to process that, all he could come up with for a response was, “Naked?”

  “Yep,” I said, and drank a little more of my beer.

  We continued to drink in silence for a little while.

  Ryan broke the silence by saying, “Sorry Barb cheated on you.”

  “Given everything that’s happened,” I said with a chuckle, “That part really seems to be the least of my worries.”

  Neither of us laughed at that, and we drank in silence for a while longer.

  Ryan was staring at me, he had this weird look in his eyes and he kept darting his gaze up and down my body while trying to be inconspicuous about it. I’d finally had enough.

  “What?” I asked him.

  Sheepishly he stuttered, “So… are you all woman?”

  “Yes,” I sighed.

  “Even-” I cut him off.

  “Yes.”

  I saw him blush a bit and then we continued on in silence. When I reached the bottom of my can I polished it off with a very unwomanly burp and then asked, “Do you have anything stronger?”

  Ryan turned to his liquor cabinet. He looked in there for a minute or so before deciding on a rather expensive looking bottle of whiskey and two tumblers. He poured a generous portion into both and then crossed the room to hand one to me.

  For a minute he stood there next to me as we sipped the amber liquid. He felt like a giant towering over me like that, but it wasn’t just the fact that he was standing while I sat. In this body he was just so much bigger than me. I mean he was bigger than me in my other body too. Ryan was a big guy, not fat, muscular. He liked to work out and he always tried to get me to go with him but I always begged off. Still standing there, I looked up at a man who I was fairly certain could heft this body up in his arms and pin it against the wall one handed if he wanted to.

  I had something flash in the back of my mind there. A thought that came unbidden and unwanted. An image of Ryan and this body… entangled… I felt that coal fire inside of me stoked up slightly.