Gender Swapped Volume Two

by Sophie Pert

  I am aggressive but firm. Alpha and in charge.

  I push her down to her knees and her hands come up to rest on the sides of my waist.

  Unbuckling and unzipping my pants I reach into my boxers and pull out my cock.

  I know that I’m gifted, I know I have a cock that is nice and big and thick. But I’ll be damned if I never tire of hearing that little gasp that women make when they see if for the first time.

  She is drawn to it, her lips parting as the head of my cock slips inside. Her hands slip from my waist to my shaft as she strokes and tends to me.

  I look down at her, down at the tousle of her pretty blonde hair, the swirl of it I can see from the top. She is working my cock so well, I’m not ashamed to admit this probably figures in the list of top 10 blowjobs I’ve ever had.

  She does this thing where she bottoms out, takes all of me inside of her and then her tongue and her throat undulate in sequence and it feels like there is a warm and wet hand stroking me tight inside of her mouth. It’s unbelievable and I have never felt anything like it before.

  I know I’m not going to last.

  I want to fuck her, want to bend her over something out here and stick my cock deep into her tight little slit and pound away.

  But there are priorities, I have a competition to win. That comes first.

  So I manage a quick picture without her noticing, and then I let her satisfy me.

  Her movements become slightly erratic and I notice her hand has slipped between her legs. She stutters and starts on my cock as her arm twitches and I feel her moan as she climaxes from her own fingers.

  She moans lewdly around my cock, vibrating it as she does and the feeling of that is enough.

  Hunching forward I thrust my cock into her with a few short thrusts and then twitch and empty myself into her mouth. She sucks on the head of my cock the whole time, milking me for every last drop until I step back.

  I put my cock back in my pants and don’t say a word as I leave her on her knees in the alley, still moaning with a mouthful of my semen.

  I know by now that Mike has left the bar and headed home. The girl and I hadn’t been out of the bar for long, but knowing him he could probably tell from the moment she stepped outside his chances were gone.

  So I didn’t even bother heading back in, I just turned and walked down the street towards home.

  Home was a second floor apartment that Mike and I shared. We’d moved into the place when college started and had been there since. Rent was cheap, the place was pretty central, and it wasn’t a bad place. Nothing special.

  The bar we were in was our local spot, a mix of college kids and locals that had cheap drinks and crappy food. It wasn’t the most entertaining night spot, but it was fine on a night like this when you wanted something cheap and strong.

  Plus it was walking distance from home, which meant that 20 bucks that could have been spent on a cab instead went towards another round.

  I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and check it. The light from the screen blares out in the dark night and briefly blinds me but I see a text message flashing at me.

  Mike: I’m home. Where are you?

  Have to laugh at that. Apparently he can’t connect the dots tonight, must have had a round too many.

  I decide to be a bit cruel and a bit crude and all I do is text him back the picture. The one I took of the girl. The one with my cock in her mouth.

  I give a short sharp laugh as I hit send and slip my phone back in my pocket, the cold night air all of a sudden bracing and invigorating instead of damp and chilly.

  Our building looms ahead and I jog the last little bit. I can see the light of our apartment on the second floor, Mike is in the front room. I can tell from the flashing lights of the TV flickering against the wall.

  I get indoors, notice the ‘Out of Order’ sign on the elevator and jog up the stairs taking them two at a time.

  The front door to our place is unlocked as it always is when Mike gets home alone.

  The whole apartment is filled with cheap furniture that we either found or bought at a second hand place. It’s nice and lends a real ‘back alley’ vibe to the place. Real authentic street.

  Look it’s not a nice place but it’s home.

  I flick the light on in the front room, lighting up Mike sitting on the couch with his feet up on our coffee table while playing video games. The coffee table is the latest addition and it’s probably the nicest piece in the whole place. It’s some weird box that we found in the trash out back of some antique store.

  Some odd sort of solid block, all carved with weird symbols and designs. The pattern is so intricate and fine that it seems designed, like it’s meant to be a picture. I’ve almost figured it out a couple of times, but every time I get close it just slips away, like the box is changing right before my very eyes.

  Mike doesn’t even acknowledge me, now you might guess this is because he is pissed at me for stealing his girl but I know better. The game he’s playing is the latest FPS, and he is obsessed with it.

  It’s this odd game called XCH, and I have to admit it’s a really good game. The developer somehow managed to combine all of the best elements of a dozen or so other games that came before and tweaked and balanced them just right. It’s fantastic and a lot of fun to play.

  It’s also really fucking hard, and requires a lot of concentration to play well.

  I know all of this, and I know that Mike doesn’t care that I took the girl, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him off the hook.

  So I flop down on the couch beside him, making a big exaggerated show of putting my feet up on the coffee table and turning to him with a big grin.

  “Soooo,” I ask, drawing out the o, “How was your night?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Yep,” I go on, “Mine was pretty good. Met a new girl. Honestly man, think she might be the one.”

  A grunt was the only response I got from him, but that didn’t deter me.

  “I wish you could have met her man,” I said with a smile, “Absolute knockout. Come to think of it I met her at the bar we were at tonight. Don’t know where you were though, surely with all of your skill at picking up women you would have absolutely been the one she picked.”

  I could feel him tensing, when all else fails always go for the throat and imply lack of skill.

  Still he didn’t respond, and while I can cut to the heart of them it’s no fun if the target just doesn’t even respond. So realizing he wasn’t going to rise to the bait I told him just that, “Whatever man, you’re no fun pouting just cause you lost the girl.”

  “I could have had her if I wanted her,” he shot back, his statement short and abrupt.

  “Face it,” I said, energized now that he was finally starting to respond, “In this as in all things I am just better than you.”

  “Shut it,” he barked, “You couldn’t even beat me at this game.”

  A well judged hit, he targeted my weak spot. Mike is absolutely right, I probably can’t beat him at this. This game is really fucking hard and I just so happen to be terrible at it and he knows it. He’s seen me play, he knows I’m no good and that he could absolutely rock me at it.

  Shooters are great and I absolutely love them but they have a rhythm to them. There is a certain element of getting into the groove of them that is required for a shooter, you have to know how to dance the dance in order to succeed.

  When it came to this game I had two left feet. I was always just a split second off, just out of sync with it and just unable to get into the swing of it. So every single time I played, whether it was solo or multiplayer, I wound up losing.

  So he chose his blow correctly.

  Because I can’t just ignore that, can’t just let him smack talk me like that. I can’t just back down from the challenge, from the gauntlet he just laid down.

  I just don’t do that. It isn’t me.

  So now I find myself saying, “Fuck you man, I’ll t
otally kick your ass,” and grabbing the second controller.

  Mike is grinning, because he knows he’s got me.

  The game is simple, it’s the best one when two competitors are involved. 1v1 deathmatch. No capture the flag, no king of the hill, just straight up shoot and kill.

  The map is also chosen for it’s even footing. A warehouse, closed in with a very well tested out map. The whole place is a mirror split on a diagonal, and we will start off in opposite corners.

  We know the game, we’ve played it on this and so many other maps beforehand. First to 10 kills wins. Shouldn’t take too long.

  I know he’s going to win but I’m still going to give it my all. Not that I’m going to let him think that.

  Here in this room, we’re not just playing video games we’re playing mind games too. The coffee table is an intricate part of this, and there is a reason I’m so happy with the one we found.

  Our last coffee table was a lot more what you would picture from a standard coffee table. You know, four legs and a top. This one is a solid wooden block, which is great because the first one was a bit too flimsy it would turn out.

  Feet up on the table is the universal symbol of relaxation, it also turns out that it’s very easy to put your feet through the table when you’re frustrated.

  So the competition with the table this time was who could last the longest with their feet up without putting it through the table or putting it down. In other words, who was more relaxed, who was taking the competition less seriously.

  And so feet up, we started.

  The whole place is confusing to me right from the start, even though I’m very familiar with it. The textures they chose switch from floor, to wall, to ceiling, making the whole place disorienting and difficult to keep straight. It feels like it’s shifting as you walk through it, and I constantly find myself turned around.

  What’s worse is that the game practically demanded speed. It’s the sort of shooter where you’re meant to react, not act. Where you just bounce into the flow of it and bob around the obstacles like a cork in amongst the rapids.

  But I manage to get an early lead anyways, catching a glimpse of Mike as he runs through a doorway and then I’m hot on his heels. I always catch a fleeting bit of him as he moves up ahead, enough to let me know I’m still on his trail but never enough to get a clear shot.

  Then I make a quick turn and I’m in a big open room and it throws me off my guard and before I know it there is the rattle of gunfire, the vibration of my controller, and my view goes dark.

  BLAM.

  My character dies.

  The hit seems to affect me, the game has put me so off-kilter that when the shots ring out and my screen goes dark I jump in surprise. And something more.

  My whole body feels off, as if my heart is racing too fast. I’m lightheaded and feel affected by it somehow.

  I take a shake breath and try to shake off the feeling of unease before hitting the button to respawn.

  Back in the game, back in these closed in hallways and corridors. A maze of confusing passages that make me feel like I’m lost in a hall of mirrors without even my own reflection to keep me company.

  I hear the rattle of bullets and spin trying to find the source, seeing only a riot of bland textures all around me and at the very last moment a flash of light as my character is riddled with bullets and the screen goes dark.

  Instant death again. Mike: 2. Me: 0.

  But I’m barely keeping track of that because still my body is racing, my heart pounding in my ears as I swoon and blinkingly try to gain some control over my body. I feel a bit faint, a bit small. Literally, I feel as if I’ve shrunk, or as if the world has somehow gotten bigger around me.

  I look down at myself and feel out of sorts.

  My clothes… My clothes don’t seem to fit as well…

  I was wearing a tight dress shirt and jeans but somehow they feel like they’re not fitting quite as well anymore. As if my whole body was a different shape, bigger in some places and smaller in others. My mouth felt dry, my lips too wet. This was the oddest thing.

  And Mike, looking at him sitting beside me he seemed somehow bigger than he had been before. His arms larger, like he’d just got home from the gym and was freshly pumped. His face was a bit flushed, veins were standing out on his neck and his arms as he worked the control in his hands while his eyes were locked onto the screen in front of him.

  “Uhh,” I mumbled, trying to figure out why I felt so odd, “Dude, do you feel weird?”

  “No,” he barked, obviously annoyed that I hadn’t respawned, concerned I was trying to back out of a competition I was obviously losing, “I feel great. Don’t be a wuss man. Let’s go. Respawn.”

  He was being more aggressive than usual, not in the choice of words but more in his tone of voice. He wasn’t joking around, wasn’t pushing my buttons. He was giving me an order, and his voice was gruff, deep, and authoritative. I found myself drawn to obey.

  Shifting my eyes to the screen I hit the button to respawn and got back in.

  This time I was determined to make up for lost time. I may not have been in good shape so far, might have wound up 2 points behind but I was going to make up for it with style and panache.

  I chose the route I knew about through the rafters of this place. It was tricky, like a high-wire act of platforms and wall jumping to get up there and stay up there, but once you were into the swing of things up there you had a free and clear shot at a good chunk of the level and a single well placed grenade would spell doom for the other player.

  I was bouncing from platform to platform when I spotted Mike. Problem was he spotted me as well and took a shot before I could let loose a grenade. I jumped to one side to avoid the shot and wound up sliding right off the edge of the platform.

  It was a long way down and my character hit the ground with an audible crunch before my screen faded to black.

  There is was again, that same feeling as before. A shudder runs through me and now there is something unmistakably different.

  My hands. The controller in my hands feels enormous and my hands themselves seem so small, almost dainty.

  My shirt is so loose, and my pants feel somehow tighter around my hips but looser at the waist. This is so overwhelmingly weird. Even my face feels different, my eyes feel like they’re blinking differently, my face feels off, my lips feel somehow swollen.

  But I sense Mike shifting in his seat beside me and a sideways glimpse shows his impatience as he shuffles in his seat. Better get going quick before he gets pissed.

  Hitting the respawn button I take a few steps closer but I still can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Something in my clothing doesn’t feel right but it can’t be anything overt. I can’t have changed at all. I’ve been sitting here the whole time.

  Still I roll my shoulders around in my shirt, feeling the fabric shift loosely where it should have been snug against my muscles.

  And then the controller is vibrating in my hands again and I realize that whole time I was distracted my character was just standing still waiting for Mike to come up and shoot me.

  Dammit.

  I clicked respawn quickly and tried to focus on the game.

  There is a bark of laughter from beside me as Mike slaps his thigh with his big, meaty paw of a hand and shouts, “This is too easy.”

  I look at him and I could swear he looks different too. He looks enormous.

  We’re about the same height, same build, in a pinch we can wear each others clothes if need be. But now Mike looks like he’s about a head above me, and his shoulders are so wide and broad that they seem so much bigger than mine. His arms are bulging with muscles, his neck thickly corded with it.

  We both spent time in the gym on a regular basis, but Mike looked like he lived in the gym. I don’t know why I’d never noticed it before, why I thought we were about the same size. Just a glance down shows that his forearm is thick with muscle while mine is smooth and slight
and petite in comparison.

  But it hadn’t always been that way, had it? Had I just never noticed how much bigger he was? Hadn’t we always been the same size?

  Because as it stands right now he was way bigger than me, or maybe it was that I had shrunk, or maybe both. It actually seems for all the world like he had just absorbed a good chunk of me into him. Like he had been feeding off of me, draining me of my muscles and building on his own.

  But that couldn’t be the case. That didn’t happen in real life.

  No it must be a trick of the light or something, something that made it look as though I was smaller than him. We had to be the same, we had always been the same. He’d always looked like this right?

  His arms, all bulging and veiny. His jaw, all strong and defined. His eyes, all pearcing and attractive.

  So very attractive.

  Wait what?

  Where the hell had that come from?

  Blam, another shot and another casualty from me. This was what 5 of them so far? Halfway to the end of the game and I hadn’t even got a single kill.

  I shook it all off, I couldn’t be distracted. Everything felt weird and off. Everything felt disorienting, but I couldn’t lose this time. I had to get at least one kill before all of this is over.

  So I moved my character carefully. Taking my time to make sure each space was clear before moving through it.

  I cleared rooms one by one and spotted him a ways off, running recklessly through the halls without a care in the world. So I snuck up on him and engaged, making sure I had the advantage.

  We exchanged fire, both of us bobbing and weaving out of cover as we nibbled at each others health. I got in a few good hits and so did he but I had the advantage, had him pinned in a corner of the room.

  I heard the telltale clicking beside me but it wasn’t until it was too late that I realized what it was.

  Grenade.

  It went off with a boom and just like that Mike racked up kill number 6.

  He roared beside me, smashing his fist into his chest a few times redolent with the victory of his kill.

  I stared openly at him, realizing that I was right all along. Mike was bigger, stronger, more manly. He was just plain more man than me and beside him I felt tiny, so very tiny and small.