The Pebble
by Janet Harris

The Pebble
By Janet Harris Copyright 29/09/99

My wife Amanda and I lounged in deckchairs on the shingle bar of the beach, watching the activity of the crowds on the sand below. We were sun bathing to even-up our tans because the weather had been very patchy on our holiday and the sun had only seemed to shine when we were inland until today. I had on a cool long-sleeved shirt with the front unbuttoned because I had burnt my arms on the cliff-top walk yesterday, but apart from that were just in our swimsuits.

Reaching down at my side, I kept picking up pebbles and examining them. There were a great variety of colours and patterns and quite a few fossils. Where we sat today there seemed to be a lot of pebbles with holes in. A few had a hole right through and I was looking for a hole big enough to poke my finger through.

I had covered the surface of the whole area, which I could reach, so I started to dig down, but I found that only two pebbles deep they were wet and slimy. Nonetheless, I started to feel over these wet stones for holes. Suddenly I came across one that was bone dry down there; indeed it seemed warmer than the sun- baked stones on the top. At first I assumed that I had caused this by turning it under in my search, but then I felt the largest hole yet in its side, so I pulled it to the surface and picked it up.

The hole did go right through and should take my largest finger, if not a thumb. There was something very odd about its warmth, though, and it was with trepidation that I poked my right forefinger into the hole. To my surprise, my finger seemed to hit a bottom to the hole. I turned the pebble around and looked into the other side of the hole. There was the tip of my finger, looking as if it should indeed come through. It was not pushed against a glass barrier, which is how it felt. I poked my other forefinger in to touch it.

The contact of fingertips felt, to my fingers, quite normal, there was no glass there, but a strange wave of feeling, not at all unpleasant, spread rapidly over my whole body. I was perplexed. I withdrew one finger and touched them again. The wave occurred again, this time with much less intensity, and I began to ascribe it to imagination.

"Tom" called Amanda, "what are you doing?"

I turned to my right, towards her, and held out the stone. "Look. Can you fit your finger through there?" She poked her finger into the stone but, just like mine, it wouldn't go through. I put my finger in from my side to see if I would feel direct contact with her finger, too.

As our fingertips touched, the strangest thing happened. There was no blinding flash, no electric shock, nor anything more than a little tingle, but now I was looking to my left, with my arm stretched out to a man who looked oddly familiar, but there had been no deckchair to my left before. Realization dawned on me that this man was the one I was used to seeing in the mirror, but the other way around. He looked down at himself in horror, putting one hand on his chest and the other between his legs.

I looked down at myself too, but I did not need to feel myself to confirm what I saw. I had already felt the bikini top on my chest and its straps over my shoulders, so I knew that I had become Amanda just as she had become Tom. I turned my head round to the right, feeling the weight of long hair on my scalp, in the vain hope that Amanda was still over there, but the next deckchair was several yards away, occupied by a fat man.

"Tom!" came a strangled cry from my left, "What on earth, ahem", startled by his new deep voice, "has happened to us?"

"This is impossible!" I replied, startled by my new high voice, "that stone felt peculiar when I first touched it, but I don't believe in magic like this!"

The new Tom sat up and self-consciously buttoned up his shirt, being unused to exposing his chest. "This is quite exciting, isn't it?" he asked.

I gazed down at my new smooth curves. I loved Amanda's body and now I was inside it. Yes, it was me in her head, looking out from her eyes, because I could only remember being Tom before. I liked what I saw, except for my obvious castration, of course. I sat up and ran my hands through my hair, feeling my breasts move as I raised my arms. Yes, MY breasts. My hair felt lovely but would be quite a bother to look after if I had to keep it.

"We'd better touch through that pebble again to see if we can change back," I said, "I can't live your life. We'd both fail in our jobs."

The new Tom stood up and took a few unsteady steps on the shingle. "But this dream won't last forever. We might only have one chance at this." He put the stone down on his chair and put my, sorry his, rucksack and towel on top of it. "Come on, Amanda, let's go for a swim like this."

I shuddered as he called me by name. This dream? I pinched my wrist, finding Amanda's bangle there and surprised that I seemed so used to wearing it. The pinch hurt and I was still wide-awake as Amanda, so I pinched my breast through my bikini top. I knew they were real, but was still surprised how sensitive my new breasts were. For the first time I was feeling them from the inside. I looked around the crowded beach and felt both scared and excited about facing the world as a woman. I realized that he was suggesting a swim because the sea was the nearest private place to explore inside his swimsuit and I found myself blushing to think that I looked forward to doing the same.

"OK, Thomas," I said with a grin, "but remember you'll have to take your shirt off."

Now it was Tom's turn to blush. I watched him trying to look casual as he took off the shirt, but his gaze was fixed on his hairy flat chest and diminutive nipples. Suppose this was permanent! I was supposed to be attracted by the male features I was now watching. I was, a little, and it would get better, but the man I was watching used to be me so it seemed wrong to admire him and my eyes always avoided his face.

I stood up and followed Tom towards the sea, expecting to find walking rather awkward with my new centre of gravity, but it felt like I was completely used to it. I knew that the old Amanda had looked just great in her bikini, so I kept telling myself not to feel so self-conscious, crossing the crowded beach. The sea was really quite cold, but we walked bravely into the waves until the troughs were above our waists. I was surprised to find, when my bikini pants got wet, that I was not nearly so sensitive to the cold down there as I used to be, but when the peaks soaked my top, my nipples stung and ached.

Tom came up close and whispered, "It certainly goes very small when it's cold, doesn't it?" and giggled in a girly way.

I remembered what we were there for, having been distracted by the cold waves on my nipples, and thrust a hand down inside my bikini pants. My sex mound felt familiar, of course, to my hand, but the feelings from within as my fingers explored my nether lips were simply amazing.

"Well, this equipment feels lovely," I whispered, "how do you like yours?"

"Not the best place to find out, is it?" he replied. "No. It's bloody cold on these nipples, too. If we first make sure we can change back into ourselves, we could swap bodies again later in the hotel." He splashed me playfully, but I didn't want the bother of having to dry all that hair, so I waded back out onto the beach and he followed.

Walking up the beach was much worse than coming down, because I was facing all the staring men. When I was Tom, I was proud to see men admiring Amanda's body, so I told myself I should still be proud now it was me they were mentally undressing, but it was still hard to avoid their eyes. The new Tom, my husband, I suppose, must have noticed my discomfort.

"Now you see what it's like", he said, "to have everyone staring at you." I picked up the stone from his deckchair, poked my finger in and held it out to him. "No, hang on," he complained, "this might only work once for us. Let's go straight back to the hotel first."

"If you think I'm getting into your clothes too, you've got another think coming!" I exclaimed, "I'm not standing here arguing, anyway." I nearly used his towel, but thought better of it, passed it to him and rubbed myself down with hers, well mine, and sat back down in her deckchair.

"OK" he said, "let's find out, shall we?" and he walked around to my side.

I held out the stone with my finger in it and he poked his in. There was Amanda sitting below me and I was Tom again. The change was so quick and gentle that I could take it standing up without even staggering.

"Now we can get dressed and go back to the hotel", I said in my old voice.

"That was absolutely amazing!" cried Amanda. "I can't wait to do it again. Let's see if it'll work now for a second time."

She was holding the stone out to me, but I backed away, knowing that her playful nature could get me into trouble. I started to get dressed and reluctantly she followed suit, pulling her cotton dress over her head and doing up her sandals.

As we walked off the beach, I could see that her bikini top had not had time to dry in the weak sun and her dress was clinging to it, showing it through. My swimsuit was also damp in my jeans, but it didn't show like that. I felt an odd twinge of embarrassed excitement to remember that I had been inside that bikini, filling it completely, when it got wet. I found I missed having those sweet- feeling breasts on my chest already but the thought made my restored cock swell in my jeans and I tried to convince myself that I had come off better in the reverse exchange.

Amanda noticed my gaze fixed on her bosom and gave me a hard stare. As we reached the pavement of the busy street leading to the hotel, she took my hand in what seemed like a friendly gesture, but suddenly she held my finger and thrust it into the stone, which she was carrying in the other hand. Now I was holding the stone in one hand and a finger in the other. My arms were now bare because I was wearing the sleeveless dress over a damp bikini-top.

"Hey" I squealed in a high voice, "not here! It's too public!"

"Well you should keep your lecherous thoughts to yourself, or else let me enjoy them!"

I tried to push his finger back into the stone, but he was stronger than me now and managed to pry the stone away from me and put it in his jeans pocket. I had never worn a dress before, at least not in public, unless you count University Rag Day. The hem was flapping around my thighs in the wind and I felt very exposed and vulnerable. I looked around, expecting people to be amazed at my transformation, but of course they could see no change when our souls swapped bodies and our little squabble over the stone had seemed perfectly normal.

"Please let's change back," I begged him, "until we're in private."

"No, I think you need to learn what its like." He opened the door into the hotel for me with mocking gallantry and took the lead in asking Reception for our key.

We shared the lift with a middle-aged couple and the man made no secret of looking me up and down. I found myself watching his groin and was rather surprised to be flattered by a growing bulge there. I wondered how much of Tom I had left in me, because my thoughts were all so female.

When we got into our room, he said, "You get in the shower first, my dear. It'll be great to try sex like this, won't it?" I was staggered by his boldness. Amanda had, I suppose, always been a bit more adventurous than me. As a man, he seemed positively dangerous.

"Hang on!" I cried, "Give me a chance to get used to this first. As I said, it has to be temporary."

"I don't see why we can't enjoy it as long as we like," he said, "you seem to like the attention you get as a girl and I certainly like getting the respect men get." I blushed, realizing that he had been watching my reactions to men admiring me.

I locked myself in the bathroom and got undressed. The little dress had an elasticized waist, which I had to stretch over my bosom to get it off. Then I pulled down the little pants and gazed for the first time at my brown pubic bush. Of course I had seen it before, but now it was mine.

I squeezed my breasts one by one out of the bikini top and took my arms out of the straps. There was only a small mirror over the basin in which I could see Amanda's familiar face, but it was odd being able to make it smile from inside.

I looked down at my smooth, soft body and cupped my breasts in my slender hands. As I said, I loved Amanda's body and it was lovely to be inside it, moving it around as I liked. I watched and felt my big nipples growing as I enjoyed thinking about it. It was quite different from how they had felt when they were cold. It was almost like having two penises on my chest. I told myself there would be plenty of time for that and turned on the shower.

My long dark brown hair felt a bit greasy so I decided to shampoo it. It was as hard work as I had expected and I began to think about cutting it again, if we got stuck like this in each other's bodies or even on a future body-swap. Amanda had resisted my suggestions that she wear it shorter, I suppose because it gave her some sort of security and she had always worn it long as a little girl. If I went out and got a neat pageboy cut on a future body-swap, there was nothing she could do but live with it afterwards, I thought.

On the other hand, knowing Amanda, or rather the new Tom, as I did, he would be bound to seek revenge. He had no beard or moustache to cut off but he could get a tattoo. That would hurt him much more than a haircut would hurt me, I thought with a giggle.

There was plenty of spare lather from my hair to wash the rest of my body and I really enjoyed working it over my breasts and into my pussy. This time I found my clitoris and started working it up to a frenzy. As waves of pleasure washed over me, I became sure that I had the better part of this bargain. I was glad that he was so keen to stay male - this could be fantastic!

He knocked on the door and called "Come on, Amanda, when is it my turn?"

I must have blushed deep red because I wondered if he meant his turn for a shower or to get inside my pussy. Had he heard me moaning? I got out and quickly rubbed my body and hair with towels, wrapping one around my hair like a turban and one around my body under my arms because I had forgotten to bring a robe into the bathroom.

I unlocked the door to find him waiting in my, no his, dressing gown, trying to conceal a ball of tissues in his hand. He just hurried past me to flush the ball down the toilet and I could easily guess what was in it. He too had wasted no time in experimenting with his body and I found myself hoping that he liked it.

When he was safely in the shower, I took off the towel and put on my long white toweling robe, overlapping the front the wrong, man's way at first, then remembering to change it around. I got out the hair dryer, sat on the bed and started drying that mass of hair now attached to my scalp.

The idea of staying in this body was becoming increasingly attractive, but I returned to the problem of our jobs. Amanda taught biology to 12-15 year-olds. I hadn't even taken biology in senior school and I'd have to learn all those pupils' names. How could I face the staff-room when I only knew some of them slightly as Amanda's husband? Also, the new Tom could never learn all the factors I used from experience to make important decisions in my job as QC manager in a toy factory. He could probably get away with it socially more easily than I could, but no, we could only swap bodies for short periods. That was disappointing.

When Tom came out of the bathroom he sat down next to me and put his arm round my shoulders. "Don't get me wrong," he said, as soon as I switched off the hair dryer, "but I now find the idea of screwing the girl that was me a bit repulsive. Do you feel the same?"

"Oh yes" I said with some relief "let's take our time. After all, we've relieved ourselves separately now, eh?" I giggled and he looked embarrassed that I had spotted his secret package.

"You were right about our jobs, too" he said, "we can only do this occasionally. Let's hope it keeps working."

"Well, I'm in no hurry to change back now," I said, "I really like being female. Do you like being male?"

He gulped, being surprised by my forthright approach and I think he had been looking forward to getting his old body back sooner. "Oh yes, you take over having all the periods and babies, sure!"

"I thought you said we'd do this only occasionally?" I asked in horror, suddenly remembering the womb at the top of that hot vagina of mine and all it entailed.

"Yes, OK," he chuckled "Shall I take you out to dinner as Amanda, though, before we change back?"

"Yes, thank you, darling!" I said and kissed him quickly on the lips.

He took delight in getting me dressed. I was not nearly so interested in what he wore. He chose a smart blouse and skirt for me, saying he regretted not having packed a certain dress he would have liked me to wear. It was weird getting into the underwear and tights, though I loved the way they felt on me. He got out flat shoes for me to wear because he thought I wouldn't manage heels, but I assured him that I seemed to be already used to everything and I was right. I strutted up and down in the skirt and heels as if I'd always worn them. I needed a lot of help with the make-up, though. It was weird fitting earrings through the holes in my lobes, too. He wanted me to wear my hair loose, as Amanda almost always did, but I insisted on tying it back and fortunately the jeweled clip was packed.

I helped him do up his tie and we set off to find a nice restaurant. I smiled as I watched his nervousness in taking the lead. He had to ask the headwaiter if he had a secluded table for two, order the wine and taste it.

I felt a bit self-conscious in my blouse and skirt, but it was much better than a bikini or a wet cotton dress. I realized after we had sat down that one of the new feelings in my body was a full bladder.

"I'm going to have to go and powder my nose" I said with a twinkle and tottered off on my heels to find the Ladies'. There I had more new experiences. I had to wait in line for a stall and listen to some astoundingly candid girl-talk about men, though luckily no one spoke to me. Then I had to sit to pee, of course, after lifting up my skirt and pulling down my tights and knickers.

I had time to think, as I viewed other men in the restaurant with female eyes, that I was in no way attracted to my dinner-date, as I ought to be. Sure I had loved him as my wife and I wanted him to enjoy taking me out to dinner as his wife, but that would be impossible if we were both looking at our old selves across the table. The thought made me worry about the future of our marriage if we could not, or chose not to, change back.

As soon as I sat back down, I broached the subject. "Look, Tom, I'm sorry to put a dampener on this evening, but I really don't think any romance is going to work out because we can't get turned on by our old selves."

"No, I see what you mean," he said, in her old understanding way, "but let's enjoy what we can of it, eh?" He put a hand on my nylon-clad knee under the table, knowing what an effect it would have, plucking the hem of my skirt with his fingers and said quietly, "We'll change back as soon as we get back in our room. Do you know what the big bonus from all this is? We are learning exactly what each other wants."

I was really glad of that positive attitude. I had been having all sorts of negative thoughts such as, if we got stuck like this, we would have to turn to others for sex and I did not want to be unfaithful to Tom, even less the old Amanda. I was worried what would happen when the novelty wore off and the biggest novelty I craved was full sex as a woman.

Reluctantly, I pushed his hand away and concentrated on my soup, which tasted slightly of lipstick. For the rest of the meal we just seemed to make small talk, avoiding the subject of the magic pebble. As we waited to pay the bill, we found that neither of us wanted to go clubbing or anything else. In fact we had become slightly bored with the situation and Tom even said he wished we had brought the pebble with us. When it came to signing a credit-card slip, he shot me a guilty glance. I guessed that it must have felt like forgery.

We went straight back to the hotel for an early night. Almost as soon as we were in our room, Tom dug out the stone from its hiding-place and we thrust our fingers into it. Changing gender again was almost as weird as removing clothes we had not put on, but we leapt into bed together, being really glad to cuddle our normal spouses

Later, after watching a little TV, we had one of our best sessions of sex ever, certainly for being in a strange bed. Amanda was right; we knew better exactly what to do to each other.

I woke before her in the morning and lay there, wondering again how I could have such female orgasms as Amanda had enjoyed last night. It crossed my mind that I could put her finger in the stone while she was asleep and sneak off for another prolonged shower or even wake the new Tom with a blowjob, a thought that shocked me. But then I realized that I would become the sleeping woman and she the awakened man. No, she was right, we must take things very slowly.

When she did wake up, she agreed immediately with my resolve to put the pebble away and not touch it until next weekend. This was Sunday, the last day of our holiday and we spent it happily in our own bodies, walking more of the beautiful cliff path.

During the following week back at work I could not keep the pebble out of my mind and Amanda said she felt the same. I kept seeing the ladies at work in a different light and imagining swapping bodies with them.

We thought we were holding out well against its attractions on Wednesday evening, until Amanda suddenly had a strange idea. She had her cat Mr. Tibbs on her lap purring loudly when she announced "I'd like to try the pebble swap with Tibbsy here. I know we resolved to wait until Friday, but this is different, more of a zoological experiment. Could you get it out, please?" I was startled by this and opened my mouth to discourage her, but curiosity "caught the cat" so to speak and I complied.

When I came back with it she said, "Tom, would you mind swapping with me first? For two reasons: one, I want to see if Tibbs can tell the difference in me when we're swapped and two, I don't want him to have to cope with a gender change as well as species."

"OK," I said, holding out the pebble with my finger already in it, "here goes!".

Her finger pointed into the stone and, with the now familiar seamless transition, it was my finger pointing, I could feel the cat on my lap, a bra on my chest and long hair on my head. I stroked the cat and he responded well. His purring continued unbroken. Being a ginger-Siamese cross, he was a very one- person cat, Amanda's, so it was clear he had no idea that it was me inside her.

"Well that answers one question," Said the new Tom, "now let's see if he'll let me handle him." He picked Tibbs up off my lap and experienced the cold hostility usually reserved for me. I was wearing jeans for the first time as a female. He must have noticed me gazing at my empty groin, where the zip curved smoothly under, because he put his hand between his legs and grinned, "Don't worry, I'm taking good care of them."

I cupped my breasts in my hands through my jumper and replied "And I'm taking good care of these too!"

He grabbed one of Tibbs' paws and poked it towards the stone, but the cat began to growl and struggle, so he put him down on the floor.

"Hey just a minute," I cautioned, "Suppose he goes berserk in your body? You're much stronger than me now."

"OK then, tie me down to this chair first. Use the tape from the kitchen drawer. You'd better fix my hand open like this so you can force the finger into the stone, if necessary." He spread his legs so that his shins were adjacent to the front legs of the chair and stretched his arms down alongside the back legs. I crouched down with the tape, having to flick my hair out of the way, and wound the tape round and round each chair-leg and limb in turn.

As I crouched at the feet of "my husband", I could not help feeling a little subservient and getting guiltily turned-on by it. On the other hand, I was tying him up, so perhaps the idea of being a dominatrix was arousing me, too? Anyway, I hid my feelings and got on with the job.

Then I fetched Tibbs, who was very compliant with me. I pushed one of his paws into the stone and then brought it up under Tom's pointing finger.

"It's not reaching me," he said, "You'll have to split his paw and get one of his fingers in." The cat was remarkably patient with me as I maneuvered his paw against the hole. "That's be...nnnngg...oowweee!" yelled Tom, or rather Tibbs in his body, which started to struggle violently at its bonds.

I was terrified as the chair rocked about. His head nodded and shook as he looked around the room with a blank expression, being unaware that he could have turned his eyes instead. His gaze fixed on the cat and he grimaced with something like a growl. Meanwhile the cat came and rubbed up against me, purring loudly.

"Look, if either of you can understand me, nod your head." I said, but the man in the chair just kept staring blankly at the cat and working out how to snarl, while the cat stared up at me wide-eyed, with no sign of a nod. I found my old body quite disturbing, since it was acting like a seriously mentally handicapped person.

Suddenly the cat was playing with the pebble where I had left it on the floor, bowling it up to the chair-leg where the extended finger waited and trying to poke its own paw in. I got the message of course and took hold of the pebble and the finger. Surprisingly, the struggling man calmed down as soon as I touched him, so I stroked his arm too. Tibbs was obviously jealous of what he thought was a strange cat getting my, Amanda's, attention.

I got the paw and finger together in the stone quite easily this time as they were both cooperating. The cat suddenly bounded away across the room and Tom said "Poor Tibbs! He's so confused. Please untie me quickly so I can go and comfort him."

As I unwrapped all the tape, I asked, "Well, what was it like, then?"

"Really weird, but it was lovely having all that fur. I had no language at all though. I couldn't even think in words. What were you saying to me?"

"I asked either of you to nod if you could understand me."

"Oh, I see. I couldn't make head nor tail of it, so to speak, with my head or my tail! I wish you'd tried some words that Tibbs knows. Did he try to use this voice?"

"Not sensibly. He made a pretty good job of growling at you, though."

"Oh yes, I was able to work out his jealousy of me. Come on, let's swap us back so that I can comfort him." He was free now so he picked up the pebble and we poked in our fingers.

Amanda went straight over to Tibbs, who had run around the room, looking for the strange cat, then sat down puzzled, to wash himself. I watched Amanda pick him up and he was noticeably less friendly to her, the rivalry still rankled.

"You poor thing", she crooned, "you thought I'd replaced you, didn't you? I learned an awful lot from that, Tom. He can see colours, despite what they say, but you have to look straight at everything. The smelling ability is fantastic, though. I've got to tell you something embarrassing now. When I, as Tibbs, rubbed against you, as Amanda, I got a hard-on! My female pheromones must be near enough to a cat's to work on him. I mean I didn't know he was actually in love with me until now. Do you mind, Tom?"

"Not as long as you don't make cross-species experiments a habit," I joked.

"No fear!" she replied, "They can't be valid experiments anyway. Zoology doesn't allow magic pebbles as laboratory equipment. A shame really, because it was an amazing experience. I could feel through every hair on my body and smell every nuance of human emotion in your sweat. I didn't mind having no words. I seemed to be able to think very quickly, too. Did you notice Tibbs checked the window was shut after we changed back, in case the rival cat had gone that way?"

"Yes, I thought that was clever of him too, but it's interesting that he believes his eyes that there was another cat in here with no evidence from his nose."

"Ah well, evidence is what it's all about. Whoever would believe what we have just done and seen? Yet we both saw your body going berserk in that chair, you through my eyes and me through Tibbs's, but could we ever convince someone of that, who hadn't touched the pebble?"

I had a secret I couldn't discuss with Amanda just yet. I had already booked her in with a hairdresser, one in the next town that I was sure she hadn't used before, for 11am Saturday. I intended to be in her body then and her new hairstyle might be the sort of evidence she meant.

Friday came around eventually and we were both excited with the plan to spend the whole weekend as each other. Amanda came home from work after me, having an after-school club to run, so I was cooking our meal. She wanted to swap bodies as soon as she came in, but I objected that I was in the middle of cooking. She pointed out that I could easily continue in her body, so I complied and found myself in her long woolen skirt and loose silk blouse.

As I had to keep flicking or swinging all that hair out of my way, I couldn't stop thinking about my secret plan for tomorrow. The new Tom fixed our drinks while I completed my cooking. As he passed behind me in the kitchen, he pinched my bum.

"Oi! What happened to all those feminist ideals?", I asked, having just been transformed from a cooking "new man" to a dutiful wife about to serve food to her husband.

The meal was much more relaxed than the last body-swapped one in the restaurant. I found that I quite liked being Tom's wife. I found out how secure it felt if he was attentive and caring and he was obviously trying to apply his memories of being Amanda in that way. My repulsion at the idea of fancying my own old body was receding rapidly.

While he did the washing-up afterwards, I settled in front of the TV and began to discover a female perspective to the programs. When my husband came and sat beside me, I was already enjoying a warm arousal from watching men on the screen and thinking of how nice this body I now occupied felt.

I was grateful to him for enjoying his maleness too. I found it a bit puzzling; actually, that he preferred the male role. Amanda had never been a tomboy. I hoped the novelty would not wear off for him. I was also puzzled by him being less averse to fancying his old body. Perhaps that was because women have more narcissism than men. He had been very sympathetic to my reservations about body- swapped sex, so now that I wanted it, I had to make the advances.

I started by snuggling up to him and putting an arm round his shoulders as we watched TV together. He smiled, but was still very cautious in his response. He could not believe that I was now so ready to touch him, after having avoided contact during all previous body-swaps.

The plan was to take it easy, going out separately tomorrow, together on Sunday and maybe being ready for sex on Sunday night. Perhaps he was right to keep to the plan, but I couldn't help feeling a little frustrated.

I had a leisurely bath before going to bed in which I masturbated again. The female orgasms were very good, but I wanted to try proper sex and was determined to get it Saturday rather than Sunday.

Waking up as Amanda in the morning was another new experience. I had been more of a morning person and this seemed to stay with Tom's body. He woke me with breakfast in bed, as I always had, and it was nice to be looked after.

I could see he had already shaved. "You missed a bit under your ear," I teased him, "you have to pull the lobe up to get there." That was a chore of which I was glad to be relieved, I thought, stroking my smooth, soft, chin, but when I got up I had to wash my long hair thoroughly, to save time at the hairdressers.

I decided to wear a mini-skirt but I avoided the white one, which had been my favourite on Amanda because I didn't want to be too eye-catching. I told him I would go clothes shopping in another town, to avoid any chance meetings with friends I ought to know. He would do the weekly food shopping as she usually did.

I had to learn the controls of Amanda's car before I could drive to the hairdressers that I had booked in secret, by that time it was 11:05 so I was shown straight to a chair. As soon as I had explained what I wanted and was wrapped in a gown, the scissors were scrunching into the masses of hair just below my left ear.

A pit formed in my stomach at the enormity of my deception. This was irreversible. I could see great long locks of that familiar hair falling to the floor out of the corner of my eye and my head felt suddenly lighter as the scissors worked around to my right ear. I tipped my head to one side and watched the mirror spellbound as the new ends swung out from my cheek, high above my shoulders. I closed my eyes as all the front hair was combed forward over my face, reaching my mouth but not my chin. The scissors scrunched across just above my eyebrows and when I opened my eyes, there in the mirror was a completely new Amanda with her fringe and bob.

As it was finished off with much brushing, combing and snipping, I gazed in amazement at my reflection. Would he be angry? Probably not!

On Monday, Amanda would have to face her colleagues and pupils with her new hairstyle and I was sure they would like it too. In any case, there was nothing she could do about it now.

I decided that more make-up would suit my new look so I looked for a beauty salon, which would do a professional job. I could not find one in this strange town so I made for the cosmetics shelves of a supermarket and restocked my handbag with some brighter colours. Then I found a burger-bar to get my lunch, with a quiet Ladies' toilet and applied my new mascara, eye shadow and lip-gloss there.

I now had less time for the planned clothes shopping but I was able to find a couple of items I wanted. Tom had suggested that I buy a few things, which I had wanted Amanda to wear before. I had been pleased at his generosity and suspected that he had found male tastes, which had surprised him. Now I was embarrassed to buy anything too alluring, but chose a smart blouse of a style I had admired, but Amanda had never worn before and had the labels cut off to wear it home. I also bought a sexy basque with suspenders and some stockings. The skirt I was wearing was too short for them, but I decided to change and wear it tonight for my seduction attempt.

When I arrived back home, I sat in the car for a few minutes touching up my brush-on lip-gloss before I plucked up the courage to show myself to Tom.

He was just dumb struck. "It's really very smart" were the first words he could stammer. "You're certainly different enough for me to fancy now."

"Oh, I'm so glad" I said honestly and kissed him on the cheek. He ran his hand round the new edge of my hair in amazement and kissed me back on the lips. "I can't wait till tomorrow night", I whispered in his ear, "I want you now."

"Well, let's have dinner first," he replied, "I'll cook, as I've planned it."

So I went off and changed into the basque and stockings, feeling constantly warm between my legs and knowing that it was penetration, which I craved. I put on an evening dress of Amanda's, which was not my favourite but the one she liked best. It was soft and comfortable, coming down to my knees to cover my stocking- tops but leaving my cleavage clearly visible from its scoop neck. I had to get used to seeing that out of the corner of my eye. If I bowed my head to look at it, the new ends of my hair swung forward by my cheeks and I knew I must be looking pretty good.

As I sought out a suitable necklace, I came across some nail varnish. Amanda very rarely painted her nails and had not for over a year now, but I thought it would suit my new look. It looked so good when I had finished that I took my stockings off again and did my toes too. This took so long that I was surprised that Tom did not call me.

When I hurried down to find him, realizing only afterwards that I seemed so used to the heels I had put on that I had not given them a thought on the stairs, he was putting the finishing touches to a romantic table-for-two.

"Oh, I thought you were going to wear something new that you'd bought today" he said.

"Ah but I am!" I replied, and I found my eyes dropping to his crotch to watch the growing bulge there as the penny dropped.

Over the meal, he told me how his shopping trip had gone. "I saw six people I knew", he said, "but only three of them knew me as your husband. They sent their best wishes to you, because I told them you were unwell, which was a bit funny because they meant it for me. I didn't know Diana Goodland fancied me. Did you?"

"She enjoys talking to me, but I wouldn't have said she fancied me, no. Oh my god, you didn't lead her on, did you?"

"Well, I couldn't resist a bit of a flirt. It was so funny because I know her so well and she thought I would never tell my wife! We didn't kiss or anything, didn't even arrange to meet again. Don't worry. It was just really interesting to flirt with her as a male. Oh and Joan Martin's husband wants to borrow your (I mean my) jigsaw. He's coming round for it later. You don't know him very well, do you?"

"Round here? With us swapped over? Oh no!" I gasped.

"It'll be alright. I'm the one he'll talk to. You can be very unwell upstairs, if you like, but you look lovely. I never dressed up like that to stay in, did I?"

I offered to do the washing up, but Tom insisted it would damage my nails so I just helped him tidy up. I hoped Amanda would not take to dressing up to stay in, as he had put it, in future, if it meant her getting out of all the chores.

When we sat down for coffee, I was getting more and more relaxed in my new role. When the doorbell went, I got up to answer it, to Tom's surprise. I recognized Mr. Martin, who introduced himself as Joe and did not comment on my new haircut, which I took to mean that he had not known Amanda any more than he knew Tom, who took him to his den to get the jigsaw. When they had not returned in five minutes, I put the kettle on for some more coffee, thinking that if Tom could play at male bonding, I could play at flirting when they did reappear.

"Do you take sugar, Joe?" I asked when they finally surfaced. He eyed the three cups and fresh pot I had put out and hesitated.

"Well, I ought to be getting back, really." I gestured him towards the sofa and, not too reluctantly, he sat down. The coffee pot was in front of the other half of the sofa so, of course, I sat down next to him. Tom was visibly shaken and I was delighted that my revenge was working on him.

As I poured out the cups in my role as hostess, I could see Joe looking at the way the skirt of my navy velour dress lay across my nylon-clad thighs. My bangles jangled together as I poured out the cups and the new ends at the sides of my hair often swung into view. I had never felt so self-conscious as a man and I was surprised that I was enjoying it now because a man was admiring me.

I made bright conversation with Joe and when I passed him his cup I made sure that our hands touched. Tom was almost squirming with embarrassment and I knew he was worried about dealing with Joe when he was Amanda again. He fidgeted and got up twice, for different reasons, or rather excuses, so that Joe felt he had to go as soon as he finished his coffee.

As soon as he had shut the front door after Joe, Tom said "I suppose that was to get me back for Diana, eh?"

"Yes," I replied, "and for spending so long in MY den. What did you find to talk about in there?"

"Well I was surprised how much I actually knew about your tools and stuff. I wonder if your memories are really here in this brain too?"

"Yes, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm sort of getting deeper into you the longer I stay in your body." I mused, "I can still only remember being male before yesterday, apart from last weekend of course, but it feels more and more normal to be female and perhaps soon the memories of growing up as a girl will sort of come back to me."

"If they do, you could go and teach at the high school and I could go and test toys, eh?"

I was shocked that he was still keen on a permanent swap. There was much about being female that I found very pleasant, to my surprise when I was back to normal, but I didn't like it enough to want to stay in Amanda's body for the rest of my life. Tom must be thinking of those periods and babies, I thought, and they seemed a serious problem to me too.

On the other hand, I had looked forward with pleasure to suckling babies when I had played with my big nipples in the bath last night. If necessary, I wouldn't really mind staying female for life, but I did want to get back to my old life and job after the weekend. I must put him off staying male, I thought.

"I think you should wet-shave before we go to bed, darling," I said, "You can work out how to do it, can't you? I'll clear up the coffee things and everything down here."

It didn't take me very long to put the house to bed, so I switched on the TV and settled down in the lounge, thinking it right that he should come looking for me. Tibbs sauntered over and jumped up on my lap. I found it odd to be accepted by him as Amanda and I couldn't forget Wednesday's discovery that my pheromones gave him a hard-on. Hence I had been avoiding contact with him, but now there was no one else to keep me company so I let him settle on me. He soon started purring loudly and began flexing his claws against my legs. This threatened to ladder my stockings, so I lifted him up, moved towards the centre of the couch and put him down beside me, with plenty of room the other side for Tom, crossing my legs to make my lap inhospitable.

Before very long, Tom appeared, with a very smooth chin, a bit red in places but no plasters or even bits of tissue, so I congratulated him on his success. He sat beside me with his arm round my shoulders.

I turned towards him and let him kiss me. This one was nice and slow and passionate. I was amazed how right it seemed to be kissing a man. I could feel my nipples and my fanny responding to my feelings, but the pleasure was spread much more over my whole body than I had been used to as a man. Tom had his hand on my knee and he slid it up my skirt as we kissed. When he found a suspender clip and the top of my stocking he seemed almost shocked.

"Oh yes. I'd forgotten you said you were wearing your purchases!" he exclaimed.

I put my hand inside his thigh, too, and gently touched his cock as it strained to burst out of his jeans. As we kissed again, he slid his hand onto my fanny and we exchanged little squeezes. This was too much for Tibbs, as always, so he sauntered off to the kitchen with the utmost disdain. There was more room on the sofa now but, tempting as it was to strip off and do it right there, we pulled ourselves apart and I took his hand to lead him upstairs.

On reaching the bedroom, I turned my back and he unzipped my dress. As dramatically as possible, I pulled it off over my head, slung it into a corner and leapt onto the bed, affecting a sex-kitten pose in my pink basque and stockings. One of my nipples escaped from the top of the basque in my leap and, instead of pushing it back in, I popped out the other one to match, enjoying the look on my husband's face.

As he struggled out of his shirt and jeans, I slipped off my panties, which I had remembered, on the second attempt after painting my toenails, to wear outside my suspenders. I was not surprised that they had stuck to my pubic hair. I had been feeling randy, or should I say horny, as a woman, all day long, since having my haircut. I knew my vagina would be very moist before I touched it and sure enough, my fingers slipped easily inside.

I gasped with both pleasure and anguish because Tom had not fully undressed yet and I was beginning to wonder if there was such a thing as female premature ejaculation. I could not believe how desperately and urgently I wanted to be filled up by his enormous cock. I had thought that I would need lengthy fore play before I felt as ready as this. As soon as he climbed onto the bed, I grabbed his cock and tried to pull it towards my throbbing fanny, but he kept his legs away from mine at an angle as he lay down, bringing his mouth down on one of my eager nipples. I almost screamed as he sucked it into the roof of his mouth. I had not imagined that such pleasure could exist up there on my chest.

I was working his cock with my right hand, gently to keep his orgasm off until I could get him inside me, and I ran my left hand through his short hair, kissing the top of his head.

He ran one hand round my neck, where I think he could still not believe that all my hair ended so suddenly, and the other down my belly. When he combed my sticky pubic bush with his fingers, finding my clitoris and wiggling it with his middle finger, I could hear myself moaning as if in the distance.

I spread my legs wide, it just seemed so instinctively right to do so, and guided his cock at long last, it seemed, into my eager vagina. I remember thinking, how on earth did the Victorians single out men as having insatiable and uncontrollable desire, justifying their brothels, when, as a woman, I could be so overwhelmed with desire that I was totally out of control?

I could not help myself, even if I had wanted to, arching my back and thrusting my pelvis against his. Knowing exactly what I needed, he squeezed his hand down between us and wiggled my clit again. Much as I wanted him to cum first, I could not hold off my first tremendous orgasm, very soon after he first entered me. My mind was soaring in ecstasy as he returned to sucking my tits and a second wave greater than the first seemed to totally engulf my being.

This was so much better than masturbating and my previous female experience now seemed rather lame. The ecstasy was just rising for a third time when I felt him pulsing and squirting inside me. That third peak of mine was therefore reduced in comparison, but I felt such achievement at his orgasm that it was truly satisfying. At last my aching desire was almost quenched.

We made love several times that night and the rest of it is a bit of a blur, now. I do remember him saying, quite suddenly, "You did take your pill, this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course, I know where you keep them. Hey, hang on a minute, what's the worry? If I did conceive while we were swapped, it would be interesting to be both mother and father to it."

He seemed unconvinced, still worried, and mumbled something about the child's security. We intended to start a family quite soon in any case.

He woke me for breakfast in bed again on Sunday. It was no surprise to wake up as Amanda this time. The first thing I felt was a sore vagina. In the shower, I found that soaping it out helped a lot. As expected, my new hairstyle was much easier to wash and dry, but the brush hurt my forehead as I straightened my fringe.

We dressed in jeans and boots for a hill-walk, as we had planned and, since it was a bit chilly for late summer, I wore a blue crew-necked jumper over a white polo shirt, with its collar turned out. I had always thought this looked smart and rather cute on Amanda. I was pleased with the effect, especially as my hair now stopped short of the collar. When I sat at the mirror to apply my lip-gloss, however, Tom was disapproving.

"Come on, Amanda, we're only going for a hike." he chided me.

Of course I had to ride in Tom's car as a passenger. As we approached the car, I thought that this ought to hurt my pride, but I could find no such emotion. It all seemed so right to be driven out by my husband. On this third day as a woman, I was fitting into the role so easily it frightened me.

I liked the way the wind blew my hair as we climbed our hill. After a long silence, Tom suddenly turned to me and said "Thirty-seven degrees!"

"What!?" I exclaimed, being unable to make any sense of it, "this hill's only ten degrees at the most."

"No, the minimum leg-movement on the toy ponies. My job, the details are coming to me out of my memory".

Suddenly I began to realize what he was doing. He really wanted to go to work as Tom and send me out to teach as Amanda. Why was he so keen to stay a man? I was certain I didn't want to stay a woman for more than the odd weekend. I too had been finding memories of Amanda's coming to me, but I did not welcome them, they terrified me.

"Look, Tom," I said, "I like being female temporarily, but I really don't want to stay in this body for the rest of my life. Let's just keep it to weekends as we agreed. I want that body back tomorrow morning, at the latest."

"Well, OK, I suppose it would be really hard to get away with it at work. Can't we swap some evenings as well? What about Wednesdays?"

"As long as you don't go experimenting with the cat again, yes, maybe, but I found last weekend affected me too much for comfort during the week, so I don't want to promise anything regular."

I thought he accepted this, but when we reached the top of the ridge, pulled off our rucksacks and sat on a rock for a drink, he produced the pebble from his rucksack. I had thought that it was still where I had put it away in a drawer at home.

For the last few hundred yards to the top, I had really felt a member of the weaker sex. Tom had had to take my hand and pull me up some of the rocky bits. I loved his care and support, but missed the strength of my old male body.

I thought he was going to offer to swap back now but instead he threatened to throw the little stone down the gravel cliff on the other side. I don't remember ever feeling so frightened in my life. My only way back to my old familiar body was through that little hole. Down on the steep scene below, it would disappear amidst millions of stones. I started up to snatch it from his hand, but realized that I stood no chance against his strength and in any case would need his cooperation to do the swap.

I begged him not to be so reckless. "Please let's discuss this carefully. We could really regret anything we do with that stone. Remember, it was you who was concerned about conception last night."

"Yes, you've got a point there. I'll tell you what, let's swap now for just a few minutes and I'll see if I still feel the same while I'm female again."

He held out the stone to me with his finger in it and I eagerly pushed in mine, knowing I would then have control of it. I was now looking at Amanda in her pretty white collar and new hairstyle. The first thing she did was to shake and toss her head, then put her hand up to feel it.

"Wow, this feels very different, doesn't it?" she exclaimed, "I think I'm going to like it, though."

I was surprised to find how unfamiliar my old body seemed after only a day and a half out of it. I was alarmed that it felt more normal now to be Amanda. I put the stone away in my rucksack and we agreed to stay in our old bodies until we stopped for lunch.

As we pressed on, along the ridge, I found it hard to forget that I was wearing clothes I had neither chosen nor put on and that there was more of my anatomy in my jeans and less in my jumper than on the climb up. I made myself revel in my male strength and now helped Amanda over the difficult climbs.

When we sat down for lunch, instead of offering the stone to her with my finger in it, I passed it to her first, knowing that would give me control of it afterwards. She didn't notice this, or at least didn't comment and, as soon as I was her, I popped the pebble into my rucksack.

I had to admit it was very nice being female, but I definitely wanted a means of escape. I still didn't understand why the new Tom was so keen on staying male for life. There must be something better about it, perhaps, or was it just the greener grass over the fence, as it was for me?

In any case, he made no more wild threats to lose the stone, perhaps because I was so vehemently against a permanent swap. We ate our sandwiches in good spirits. I found I liked avocado, as Amanda always had, even though I had detested it as Tom.

The climb down to the car was easier, of course, so I needed no help from my husband. We had planned to dress up and eat out that night, but we were both too tired. We picked up a take-away on the way home and had an early night. We found that we were too tired for any sex, as well, falling asleep in each other's arms.

If there had been time before Tom had to go to work, I would have had my third breakfast in bed, but before I could eat what was on the tray, I had to get the stone out of my bedside drawer and swap back into him.

I could still taste the breakfast he had eaten, but I drove to work smiling to think that I had not eaten anything myself, nor had to shave or get dressed. Amanda would be eating her second breakfast and have to go to work in a new hairstyle she had not chosen herself.

When she came home, I was pleased to see that she was wearing the new blouse I had bought on Saturday. She said everyone was delighted with her haircut and gave me a big kiss of thanks.

On Wednesday, I found her briefcase in the house when I came home and smiled to think that she was so keen for the planned swap. There was no answer when I called her, though, so I thought she must have gone out again. I got on with cooking our meal and suddenly she appeared in the kitchen with her hair all curly, wearing a frilly cotton dress.

I was speechless at her transformation and before I could collect my thoughts, she grabbed my hand and pulled it towards the pebble in her other hand. Since I had agreed to swap today anyway, I put out my finger and found myself in the frilly frock. At once I could feel the tight firmness of the basque supporting my breasts under the deceptively loose dress. When I put my hand on my thigh to confirm that the lump I could feel was a suspender clip, I found that I was wearing copious petticoats too. I put my other hand up to my hair, which was not swinging around as I had got used to at the weekend, but a mass of loose curls standing out from my head.

"This isn't a perm, is it?" I asked.

"What if it is?"

"Well I did like it straight and swinging. I mean on you too, when you are Amanda."

He stepped back from me and looked me up and down. "You're too different to be called Amanda, now. Let's use your middle name, Penelope. No, just Penny, I think. How do you like your new image and name, eh, Penny?"

"It makes me feel really cheap" I retorted, feeling hurt that he had dressed me up to make fun of me.

"Well you do look a bit of a tart in those," he said staring at my feet.

I pushed my billowing skirts out of the way to find that I was wearing fishnet stockings and five-inch bright red heels. As I moved around, finishing off my cooking, I felt a cool draught up my skirt and also discovered that I was not wearing any panties. I had to admit that I felt quite excited by this new image, as well as used and exploited. Wearing the basque again was bringing back hot memories of Saturday night. The thought of Amanda actually getting dressed up like this also turned me on, even though it had been for me to wear it.

As soon as I could leave the dinner to cook on its own, I minced over to the armchair where he had sat down to read a newspaper, put my arms round his neck from behind and kissed the top of his head. I could not help myself living out the sluttish role I had been given. I moved around to his front and unzipped his flies. Gently he pushed my curly head into his lap. Although that great throbbing pole had been mine less than half an hour before, I felt no repulsion at all on taking it into my mouth. It seemed so right that I, Penny, should be submissively giving him head like this. I did not have to look in a mirror to know that I was neither Tom nor Amanda now, but Penny the slut and I found it very exciting to be this completely new person. As I worked hard with my tongue, he put a hand firmly onto one of my breasts and began to massage it. I fumbled with the buttons on the front of my dress to let his hand inside.

"It's no good. They're false buttons," he told me, "there's only a zip at the back."

I was desperate to feel him directly against my body, which was already tingling all over. I took my mouth reluctantly off his dick and gathered up my petticoats to sit astride his lap and get him urgently inside me.

"Where did you get this awful frock?" I asked.

"Oh, I just borrowed it from someone at work. It's not awful, Penny. You look really pretty in it." To my surprise and terrible frustration, he pushed me away before I could sit right down on him. "Now, now, Penny," he said, condescendingly, while trying to force his unsatisfied penis back into his trousers, "don't get too excited, yet. We haven't had our dinner yet, remember."

I couldn't believe that he could be so cruel. I began to understand his motives for dressing me up and calling me Penny. I had apparently carried my male appetite for sex over into Amanda's body at the weekend and he wanted to both teach me a lesson and exploit my libido for his own pleasure.

I went up to the bathroom to wash my hands and had a good look in the mirror. I did not look as different from Amanda as I felt. The big rounded, lace-edged collar of the dress, the short puffed sleeves and the mass of curly hair made my face look rounder, but it was still Amanda's. My forehead was as bare as before I had my hair cut because the fringe was curled up tightly at the hairline. The fishnets and heels contrasted with the prudery of the frock, but betrayed my aching desires.

Stiffly, I served up our dinner and we sat down to eat it in silence. I felt growing resentment at the way he was treating me, yet I was still getting turned on by the novelty of my persona. Ordinary eating now seemed erotic to me and so did watching Tom eat.

When we had finished desert, staring into each other's eyes, he readily agreed to delay washing-up and we made haste for the sofa. I turned my back for him to unzip my dress and he started to do so, and then changed his mind.

"No, keep it on. Just bend over the arm of the sofa now."

I gasped as he cupped both my tingling breasts in his hands, popping them easily out of the basque, and gently pushed me over the arm with his chest. Then he put one hand down, lifted the back of my skirts and unzipped his flies. I had to suppress a horror of being taken from behind and was relieved when his fingers explored my vagina, not my anus.

Neither of us was surprised that I was very wet and ready; I had been worried that it might trickle down my leg during dinner. I felt very naughty; not wearing any knickers and that had excited me even more.

Suddenly, probably less than a minute since we left the table, I could feel his hot, smooth helmet against my ecstatic fanny lips. Eagerly, I reached down under my tummy, took his dick in my hand and guided it in. Now I understood why Amanda liked to do it this way. The feelings as my vagina was entered the other way around, pushing it upwards and forwards, were simply amazing.

My feet were already off the floor and my legs wide apart, so now I bent my knees to wrap them around him and, kicking off my shoes, I hooked my toes together behind him, helping to pull more of him into me. While I only needed one arm to hold up my shoulders from the seat of the sofa, I kept the other down under my tummy and tickled my clitoris with my middle finger.

He put both hands back on my breasts, through the dress, massaging them vigorously. I was so overwhelmed by my rising orgasm that I ignored any thoughts about giving him one too and I think I screamed rather loudly as I came.

"Yes!" he cried, "that's how Penny likes it, isn't it?"

I could not disagree. He kept up the rhythmic pumping right through my tremendous orgasm and the pleasure did not fall off very far before I could feel another one coming.

However, he seemed to be getting nowhere for himself and soon withdrew and asked me to turn around. Panting with urgency to reach my second peak, I stood up and complied, lifting the front of my skirts for him. I was more aware now than ever that I was facing the man that used to be me, both of us fully clothed, in the bright lights of our lounge and yet it felt so right and I was so eager to be fucked by him that I threw myself into the knee-trembler without thinking it at all bizarre.

He leant back from me as he entered from the front, but reached for my tits and resumed the massage. We were both frustrated by the presence of the dress, he in feeling my breasts, even though they were now outside the basque and me in reaching my clitoris again past all those layers of petticoat, so I was relieved when he put an arm round behind me and undid the zip. I crossed my arms and pulled the dress up and over my head, without him having to withdraw from me, followed by the petticoat, though its waist elastic was hard to stretch over my breasts and hurt my aroused nipples.

Tom bent his head down and took one of those glorious new appendages to my chest into his mouth and began to suck it. My ecstasy simply soared to new heights and again I wrapped my fishnet-clad legs around him to pull him deeper into me. Just as I came for the second time and as I could feel him stiffen and pulse in his own orgasm, his legs came off the floor and we fell together over the arm into the seat of the settee. We both giggled and then indulged in a long, passionate kiss. During this, he ran his fingers through my curls, pulling them out from my head and letting them spring back.

When he came up for air, he said "Don't worry, it's not a perm. I don't want to go to school like that tomorrow. I only set it on heated rollers and it should straighten with the heated comb I bought today too. Would you like to swap back while I go through all that?"

"No, I don't mind straightening it for you, as long as you shave and eat breakfast for me again."

"OK, fine. Actually, it was rather nice eating two breakfasts on Monday without putting on any weight!"

So, while he set about the washing-up, I went off to wash and set my hair. As my now very sore tits bounced over the top of the basque on the way upstairs, I wondered if I really wanted to stay female any longer but I decided I did, as long as it was not as Penny the slut.

So the first thing I did was to put back on the bra that Amanda had discarded when she came home from work. What a comfortable relief it was! Then I wriggled out of the basque and stockings and put on panties, short socks and a nice pair of jeans before leaning over the bath to wash my hair. The curls soon got looser as I shampooed them and looser still with the conditioner. I wrapped my head in a towel like a turban and went to get a top to wear. I didn't want Tom dictating what I wore any more. I chose a chequered cotton shirt and rolled up the sleeves.

I had to work out how to light and regulate the little gas-powered styling brush then I undid my turban and began combing out my hair. Tom came in when I was almost finished.

He looked surprised to see me dressed, but said "Hey, that's nice! Back to your old self again, eh, Amanda?"

"Well, I'll have to wash it again in a minute, I think, but it should be alright for YOUR old self, tomorrow, after that."

He offered to help me brush it out, but I told him I wanted to do it alone and he went downstairs again. The truth was, I didn't want him around when I took my blouse off again. Casting off the dress, basque and fishnets, it had felt good to leave Penny's oversexed persona behind. I found that I wanted to enjoy being Amanda without constantly living and breathing sex.

When I'd washed it and pulled the gas styling brush through it for a second time, my hair fell nice and straight again, from the top of my head to its neat, straight edges. Penny's face had been made up rather heavily, so I washed it all off and applied just a subtle touch of colour.

I found I had quite different tastes now, in what I wanted Amanda to wear. I found a necklace and matching earrings to add a feminine touch to the cowboy shirt. I thought of putting a skirt on, but I had really enjoyed spending last Sunday in jeans, so I kept to my earlier choice. I did take off the socks again and put on knee-high stockings so that my feet looked nice in low court shoes under the jeans, then I went down and found Tom back at the dining table, doing Amanda's marking work from school.

He looked me up and down and smiled, but only said "I've got quite a bit more to do, so why don't you go and watch TV ?"

I found myself disappointed that I could not get his attention, but I went off quietly, got us some coffee and took mine through to the lounge. I found a drama set in the eighteenth century to watch and found it fascinating to identify with the female characters and admire the men, especially in military regalia.

I found myself wishing to live a full social life as a woman. I had enjoyed going out shopping on my own last Saturday, for all the nervous terror it had caused, and I had enjoyed flirting with Joe too.

When Tom had finished his work and came to get me to go to bed, he said "You know, we could teach each other enough about our jobs to try swapping all week, sometime."

I surprised myself by reacting positively to this. I actually agreed that if I felt ready by Sunday night, after spending the whole weekend briefing each other, I would go out and teach biology on Monday. The next time we swapped, on Friday evening, it would be for nine days, but I insisted I wanted my old male body back after that. I did not tell him that Tom had an interesting course booked for the week after that, away in another city, and that this was my only reason at present for the nine-day restriction.

I did not tell him that I had begun to want a permanent swap. I did not tell him that another motive for the restriction was jealousy: I did not want the new Tom, with his sexuality so heightened by the novelty of his body, going off for a week in a hotel. With that all agreed, we went to bed feeling really affectionate towards each other in our new roles, but, for once, not at all randy.

He kissed me gently when he put out the light, putting a hand on my breast, but was not too disappointed when I gently took it off again. We said our goodnights with a couple more quick kisses and turned over to sleep.

Next morning, for the third time, I drove to work as a man, but shaved, dressed and breakfasted before I had woken.

On Friday, after being unable to stop thinking about the pebble all day at work, I came home to find Amanda's car in the drive first again. I smiled to think how keen she was, too, about swapping and wondered if she had another surprise for me like on Wednesday.

Instead, I found her in tears, holding the stone with her finger right through it. She was too upset to tell me anything, but I could see for myself that the pebble's magic must have expired because it had been impossible to get right through the hole before and it had lost all of its mysterious warmth.

We tried touching fingertips as near the centre as possible; we tried warming it in the oven; we tried washing and drying it and warming it between Amanda's breasts, but nothing would restore its unique power. There was no one we could turn to for help. Who would believe our story?

As we had discussed before, there was no real "evidence" that anything at all magical had happened. Be we know and treasure the memories of those two weekends and two Wednesdays. We enjoy the benefit they have brought of much more intimate knowledge of each other. After all, why did Amanda change her hairstyle at that time? Why did Joe think he could flirt with her next time they met? Why does Amanda now occasionally set her hair in curlers, wear sexy, mock-prudish clothes and become "Penny the slut" for a while?

We know that the cold lifeless stone we keep carefully wrapped up in cotton-wool in our bottom drawer has given us some amazing gifts and we take it out every Friday to see if it might have recovered its powers.

The End

Date: Sat, 19 May 2007 22:41:00 +0100 (BST)
From: Janet Harris
Subject: The Pebble