I was sleeping on my left side and rolled over toward the edge of the bed and away from the wall as my cell phone alarm went off. I felt the shifting of extra flesh on my chest and paused, flat on my back to take stock. My head was pounding and my mouth tasted terrible.

“How much did I drink last night?” I asked, the ceiling and winced at the sound of my voice and remembered last night after Skyping with Kristina. I’d gotten off the computer and realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was related to that but I went into the kitchen. I found some pasta and a red marinara and decided on spaghetti. As I was boiling the water I saw a loaf of bread and cut off a chunk. I don’t know if it was my new taste buds or just the fact that I was starving, but the bakery bread tasted like heaven. I got the pasta going and then dug out Kristina’s red wine.

The food tasted okay, but I could almost feel the carbs hitting my system and realized that I shouldn’t go so long between meals. The wine tasted stronger than I was expecting, but good. I poured a second glass and then Kristina’s phone buzzed. It was Lana, again. I felt like answering and telling her to leave me alone, but who knows, with women that could backfire and result in a barrage of calls and text messages. I turned the phone over and ignored it.

I powered up the TV, figuring a little escapism was just the ticket. I saw a Dr. Who marathon was just getting underway and I settled in to watch. Two hours later the red wine was gone and I stood up to planning to open the bottle of white wine when my head started to spin. I had to steady myself against the sofa for a second before I felt safe to walk to the kitchen. ‘Wow, I’m really a light weight now,’ I thought, ‘In more ways than one!’ and then a giggle bubbled up and I couldn’t stop laughing.

Instead of getting another glass of wine I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. I’m not sure when I went to bed, I sort of woke up when the Dr. Who marathon was over, and an infomercial was running about an exercise video. I turned the TV off and feeling out of it stumbled to the bathroom.

I remembered to brush my teeth while ignoring the face looking back at me. When I moved to the toilet to take a piss I reached for my dick and grab air. For a minute my alcohol befuddled brain didn’t understand and then I realized that I didn’t have a dick. This sobered me up a little, after my alcohol induced escapism, and I turned around and settled onto the toilet. I did my business, still uncomfortable with how odd it felt to pat myself dry, and headed to bed. I remembered to set the phone and then dove under the comforter with the grey and yellow dots.

Now, as the pounding in my head receded, I could feel that the bra I was still wearing had kinda gotten twisted and the underwire was digging into me. I also had to use the little boy’s . . . er . . . the little girl’s room. I got to the side of the bed and kicked my legs over and with one hand on my knee I ran the other through my hair.

“Jimmy-boy, you are so fucked.”

I’d left Kristina’s cell phone on the table by the computer and now I regretted since the annoying jingle made my head hurt. “Ugh,

Then I started laughing, it was either that or brake something and I didn’t have the energy for that. I got unsteadily to my feet. I’d seen Jill tuck her arms under her shirt, wiggle around, and presto, out pops her bra. That move had always been a mystery, and today I was in no condition to try. Instead I pulled off the wrinkly, smelly, and stained t-shirt, ‘when had I gotten spaghetti sauce and red wine on it?’ and tossed it onto the bed.

“Damn boobs are like catch trays for spills.”

I pulled the bra down and spun it around to undo the clasps and the feeling of relief was amazing.

“Who came up with those torture devices?”

I couldn’t help running my hands along my skin just below my breasts along the red marks left by the bra. As I did I caught a whiff of body odor, I’d avoided the bathroom and the shower yesterday, but I’d have to face it today.

Instead of putting my nasty t-shirt back on, I went to dig out a fresh one, and then spotted a light green cotton bathrobe. After a moment’s indecision I put it on, while trying to disregard how good it felt to let my boobs move around freely after being confined all night by a bra. Clad in sweatpants and a bathrobe I headed to the bathroom. This time the feeling of the floor under my feet wasn’t as pronounced. Maybe it was the hangover, ‘Or maybe your starting to get used to this body,’ a little voice inside my mind whispered.

I got to the bathroom and turned on the sink water and stuck my mouth under trying to get a drink. My hair got in the way so I used my left hand to sort of scoop it all up and then stuck my mouth under the faucet. The water was cold and tasted slightly metallic but I drank it greedily. When I straightened up I looked into the mirror and noticed that my face looked bloated, flatter, and my eyes kind of had an oriental shape.

“What are you a chameleon?” I asked the woman peering back at me.

I licked my slightly cracked lips and wondered if Kristina had to use Chap-Stick regularly to keep them from getting so dry. Then I felt that same pressure I’d learned yesterday meant I needed to pee. I tossed my bathrobe into a corner and pulled down my sweats and underwear, and settled onto the toilet. I tried to relax like yesterday and felt the oddest sensation. It was like I was extra aware of the crevasse between my legs as urine started to dribble out. I squirmed around a little and I could feel my lower lips sort of unsticking and abruptly whatever skin that had been in the way came free and pee shot out. But instead of down it sort of sprayed forward splattering the seat and the back of my knees before turning to a normal downward angle.

“Son of a bitch! How do women deal with this shit?!”

Still unwilling to look at the organ between my legs I dried up and feeling more than a little disgusted.

“Alright, Jimmy, two weeks in hell. It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”

Even as I said it I knew it was a lie. I’d done some pretty intense stuff, but getting stuck in the body of a twenty something hottie wasn’t on the list. I also was pretty sure there were a ton of people out there who wouldn’t consider this hell. I felt hung-over and grimaced, then I thought about my favorite hangover cure.

“Time to get a workout in.” I grinned at my reflection in the mirror before heading back to the bedroom. “This is gonna suck.”

It took a few minutes to find a sports bra, but I knew I needed it. It might feel good to let the girls flounce and bounce after a night of confinement, but I planned to abuse my body soon and I didn’t want the distraction.

The black sports bra felt tight but at least it didn’t have any of that goddamn underwire! I dug out a grey t-shirt and headed to the living room. It looked like there was enough room between the coffee table and the entertainment center to workout but I wanted to be sure. I moved both leather chairs away and slid the coffee table back until it was up against the grey sofa. The furniture seemed unnaturally heavy and then it hit me. I was probably a lot weaker now than I’d been two days ago.

Once I had a clear area I set the timer on my phone for thirty minutes and started. Pushups, Chinese sit-ups, eight count body builders, four count frog jumps, four count power lunges, jumping jacks, and four count windmills. I went through the rotation once, adjusting my numbers down and then down again. Everything felt awkward and unnatural, like moving in this way was foreign to my body. There was no muscle memory so it took more concentration. There was also the fact that I was still dealing with a hangover.

Then there was my new body parts. Boobs may look great, but they can get in the way at times! Even though I was now wearing a sports bra that practically flattened the damn things, they still jiggled and moved in a very distracting way, particularly when I was doing something that caused me to bend over or jump. I remembered back in high school joking around about girls giving themselves black eyes during gym. Now I regretted those comments.

After the first rotation I took two minutes to stretch, felt more than a little queasy and thought I might hurl. I took a sip of water and once the nausea passed went back at it. My second rotation through felt just as painful as the first and I had to take another two minute break but this time I didn’t feel like I was going to puke. By the time I started the third I could feel sweat running down between my breasts and my t-shirt had developed dark patches from sweat. My heart was racing when I started the fourth rotation and now I had to take twenty second rests between each set.

I was surprised by how strong Kristina’s legs were, but her upper body was shockingly weak to me. Pushups were the most startling. I normally did fifty reps per set, now I could barely do ten. On my third rotation I’d pushed myself and my arms had given out during a pushup causing me to land with a yelp on my chest.

I might not have balls anymore but I’ve still got sensitive parts! After my fourth rotation I returned to stretching. Kristina was flexible! It made me wonder who was more flexible. Twenty years of Tae Kwon Do and Aikido had left its mark on my original body. I’d started studying Judo six years ago to add more grappling to my game and that had helped. Now I was curious to see who was more flexible.

I dropped into the splits toes pointed in opposite directions. This move was easier without a package between my legs but I’d been able to do the splits since eighth grade. I brought my legs around in front and grabbed the bottoms of my feet pulling my chest forward. Soon my breasts were pressing into my thighs, then I sat up and with my feet together I pulled them toward my crotch, into a butterfly stretch pushing down on my knees. When my knees touched the floor I held this position for a slow ten count. Then I brought my legs together and tucked my feet under my soft backside so that I was sitting on my legs. Then I leaned back, until I was lying flat on my back with my legs bent double under me. After another slow count to ten I sat up and extended my legs out in front of me. Then I laid back down and put my hands to either side of my head and pushed up with my feet and my arms arching my back. I continued stretching, moving from one pose to the next for several more minutes before concluding we were about equal in the flexibility department.

Even though I felt tired, I also now felt like I was free of the effects of the hangover. I drank some water and returned to my improvised workout area. I got into a horse back stance and went through a series of punches and blocks. By the time I was done my arms were shaking. Next came kicks; stretch kicks, followed by snap kicks. Front, side, roundhouse, hook, and back kicks, each one felt uncoordinated and wrong. It was like my mind knew what I wanted to do but my body wasn’t on the same page. After this I went through a couple of katas before I felt I was too tired to keep going. I looked at the timer and saw that I’d been at it for an hour and forty five minutes. I was used to three hour workouts at the Dojo. I did a few minutes of light stretching in order to cool down and then went to the bathroom.

“I may be giving Kristina this body back in two weeks, but I’ll be damned if it won’t be in better shape!”

My endorphin high lasted until I got into the bathroom. I was wearing sweat drenched clothes so they needed to come off, and I needed a shower. I started the water and while I waited for it to heat up I surveyed the products in the stall. I didn’t recognize half of them and, to my chagrin, I didn’t see a bar of soap. There was something my girlfriend had explained to me was a loofah. She used it with a body wash to exfoliate. I’d taken showers with her and had been more interested in watching her tits than what she was doing with the spongy thing. Now I was confronted with female hygiene and I didn’t really know what to do.

The water was the perfect temp so I stripped out of my clothes and then paused, unable to resist taking a second to check out my temporary body. I’d spent most of the day yesterday ignoring it, denying the evidence of my senses, but today it hit me. I was this girl, at least for now, I might as well take a look. It was hard to look past my boobs but I ran my hands over my waist and discovered I could pinch a couple of inches of skin. I relaxed and leaned forward to look at my belly and saw that I had a slight tummy going. Then I allowed my eyes to drift lower and instead of the small patch of hair I was expecting all I saw was smooth pale skin and then the pelvic bone. I tried to lean forward for a better look, but my abused muscles rebelled, and my back started to spasm. I managed to catch a glimpse of a tight fold of pale skin, and that was it. I had to straighten up.

Still curious about this body, I reached back and felt a firm round butt but when I twisted to get a look my boobs got in the way. I tried looking over my shoulder but that didn’t work. So again tried to twist only this time I used my hand to pull my right tit out of the way while I looked at my ass and without thinking about it I turned a little. Before I knew it I’d spun around in a full circle and still hadn’t gotten a good view of Kristina’s ass. I suddenly experienced my first giggle fit, as I realized how ridiculous I was being,

“Just felt like a dog trying to chase its tail.”

As quickly as the giggles arrived they vanished and for a second I felt like crying.

“Why can’t I control my emotions?” I looked up at the ceiling but God didn’t answer. “I think He hates me.”

Instead, I stepped into the stall and learned what every girl going through puberty must discover. Nipples are sensitive! The blast from the shower directly into a breast stung! I covered my nipples with a curse and moved more fully under the water. Now with the water hitting my collar bone and chest above my breasts it was fine. I turned around and let the water massage my back and closed my eyes enjoying the sensation. I felt tension drain away. The workout plus the shower was doing what I’d hoped, it was helping me relax, helping me to cope, to sort of forget and just be in the moment. I tilted my head back and let the water work through my hair. It felt really nice. Finally I realized I needed to get clean.

“Okay, hair first.”

I spotted a bottle of what looked shampoo. I put a little in my hand and smelled it. Strawberries. Well, there were worse smells. I started working it into my hair and was surprised that it didn’t seem like it was doing much. I put a glob about twice the size of the first handful into my hands and started working it in. It wasn’t until I started rinsing that I realized my mistake. I normally keep my hair in a short military buzz cut. It lathers up in two seconds and rinses in two seconds. With this much soap in my hair, it just kept coming out, and out, and out.

I finally felt like I’d gotten most of it out so I returned to washing my body. The bottle labeled “body wash” seemed like the logical choice. I picked up the loofah and put some body wash on it and began scrubbing. It only took a second for me to figure out that Kristina’s skin was much more sensitive than mine. This forced me to slow down and pay attention to what I was doing. I started with my arms and legs. The soft pale skin had tiny blonde hairs that were almost invisible. It made me think that Kristina didn’t have any hair from the neck down.

I moved to my pits, sides, and belly, as I did I noticed that I was ticklish! I’d never been ticklish in my life, but here I was twitching and pulling away from the loofah. Now almost afraid of what I was going to feel I started working on my breasts. The water and the soft scraping sensation of the loofah felt fantastic! My boobs were so soft and the sensations they sent to my brain, seemed to be routed through every part of my body, from my gut, to my crotch, to the soles of my feet and back up my spine. It was amazing. My whole body felt connected in a very different way than my old. Without really thinking about it I started to use my other hand to massage my right breast while I worked on the left with the loofah.

“Ummm,” the soft moan escaped without me thinking about it. I felt a soft heat in my groin and seeing how good the loofah felt on my breasts I reached between my legs and started to slowly, softly, rub. Now this time the sensations were stronger and more instant.

“Ohhhh . . .”

I leaned forward and used my free hand to prop myself up against the wall and noticed how nice it felt when my breast shifted to hang away from my body. I spread my legs as far apart as I could in the stall focusing on the sensations coming from my pussy.

A part of my mind told me that I was clean . . . that I should stop . . . that I needed to stop. Another part, a part that was growing stronger and stronger with every second, was way more interested in the fire spreading from my groin, filling my whole body. I bit my lip to keep from moaning and dropped the loofah and started rubbing my vagina with my hand. I could feel my pussy lips sort of open up and the little button of skin that must be my clitoris become engorged with blood.

Now a part of my brain went into panic, it was shouting, “Stop, stop, you aren’t a woman, this is wrong!”

But that voice was silenced when the larger part of my mind, filled with these powerful new sensations, started throttling the first voice. I began rubbing my clitoris, focusing on the feelings as every stroke increased the fire building in my loins.

“Oh, God!”

I could hear a woman moaning, but it was a distant far away thing, completely unrelated to me and what I was doing. My knees were weak but I wanted to use my supporting hand to touch my breasts as they swung back and forth in time to my rubbing. After a second I leaned back and reached up with my left had pinching, squeezing, and massaging my right breast and nipple. Then the ache between my legs got stronger, and from the INSIDE I felt my lower lips, sort of, open up. The ache was intense, and the need to push something inside, to scratch that itch, left me shaking. My need drove all conscious thought from me, as I did what my body wanted. What it needed. I was caught up in a world of sensation, desire, and lust as I eased a finger between my pussy lips. In and then out, in and out, it was like I had an itch just inside and above my clit and if I used my finger . . . just so . . . I could hit the bundle of nerves, the warm heat turned into a fire running through my veins, I’d never in my wildest dreams felt anything like this!

“Oh, god, Oh, God, OH, GOD!”

My knees turned to water and the muscles in my pussy clinched up in a series of spasms that reminded me of a male orgasm in the way a house cat can remind one of a tiger! It was the same, and yet totally different. Instead of an intensity focused on the organ between my legs filling me with a need to thrust, dominate, and possess, my need was more intimate. Ripples of pleasure left me gasping, every part of my body seemed alive, hyper responsive, as if someone had taken the sensation knob and twisted it up to max. My knees buckled and I slid to the floor of the shower as the aftershock of my first female orgasm left my body singing and my mind numb.

I’m not sure how long I sat in the shower but when the water turned cold I got up and climbed out. There was a cabinet next to the sink and I opened it to discover towels. I dropped one onto the beige stone tiled floor to stand on like a rug and pulled out another towel to dry off with. I tried my normal method of vigorously rubbing the water away and regretted it. My skin was too soft for that kind of treatment. I thought about it for a second and remembered watching Jill sort of blot herself dry. I switched to this method and as I dried off I realized that my hair was still soaking wet and no matter what I did, gravity still ruled. The water in my hair going to end up on me, unless I did something.

I wanted to start cussing but I was still in too good a mood from my experience in the shower. Then it came to me, I remembered seeing Jill wrap a towel around her wet hair. I leaned forward so all of my hair hung down in front of me. Then I took the towel I’d been using and sort of wrapped my hair in an improvised turban. For a second I was proud of myself, I may be a man, but I can do this! Then the towel fell off.

“No!” I stamped my foot in frustration and held in the curse I wanted to use. “Alright, I can do this!”

I bent over once again wrapping the towel around my hair and this time when I stood up I held it in place until I was sure it was secure. I turned around to head to Kristina’s bedroom and paused, my hand on the door.

‘What the fuck,’ I thought, ‘I’m still naked!’ In that instant it was like my male mind woke up and I was shocked. I went to the cabinet next to the sink pulled out another towel and after a moment of thought wrapped it around my body tucking it under my armpits. I’d wanted to wrap it around my waist but there was no way I was wandering from the bathroom to the bedroom naked from the waist up.

I stepped into the bedroom and couldn’t help looking around, sort of inspecting it, yet still in a bit of a daze. White wall paper with a light blue print, clothes packed into boxes, and a dresser being used for clutter instead of clothes. It spoke of an organized mind comfortable with some gear adrift. I wasn’t sure what that said about Kristina, but I couldn’t live like this.

“Live like this? What the fuck am I thinking?”

I sat down on the edge of the bed and resting my elbows on my knees put my face in my hands. For the first time since I was ten I felt tears start to leak out of my eyes. My mind had been, sort of on auto-pilot, switching on and off ever since I woke up. I’d been going through stages of denial, anger, and grief but I hadn’t wanted to let myself really open up and think about what was happening to me. Now, after that shower, I had no choice.

“I’m a girl.”

Saying the words made the reality really hit home. Now the tears started coming and I didn’t fight them, after all, girls are allowed to cry. I’m not sure how long I sat there, but it wasn’t until I heard my phone buzzing that I sort of came out of my funk. I found it next to the computer and looked at it, it was almost nine o’clock and I was getting a text from Lana.

Reluctantly, I opened it.

Lana: Ku, where r u?

Kristina had told me that I had to keep up appearances and that included talking to her friends and family. Feeling nervous and a little uncertain I typed up a message.

Me: Hi, home

I pushed send and the reply was almost instantaneous.

Lana: Home? So u r not out of the country yet?

Lana: But you seemed to be in such a hurry

Lana: I’ve been trying to talk to u for 2 days

Lana: Why didn't you react to my calls?

Lana: R U ok?

Me: Fine, now. Been busy, then yesterday sick. Slept most of the day

Lana: Typical you :P

Lana: R we back on for shopping at 2?

I froze. The last thing I wanted to do was go shopping. But shopping was a normal girl thing. If I was stuck maybe I should try and see?

“Fuck that.” I started typing.

Me: Sorry, still not feeling quite myself.

Then rather than wait for a response I turned my phone off. My stomach grumbled and I realized that I hadn’t eaten.

“First things first.” I said, and went in search of a bra and panties.

Plain and comfortable was the goal. I found a matching black set with little red roses. The cut on the panties was a little higher than the one’s I’d found before, I wasn’t sure what they were called but they reminded me of a French bikini. I felt again the odd sensation of underwear designed to fit snugly against my flat crotch and round bottom, instead of allowing room for the lads.

“I’ll never get used to this.”

Then I picked up the bra and noticed that this one snapped in front. I tucked my arms through the straps and fastened the hooks but something wasn’t right. I cupped my heavy breasts moving them around until they were comfortably settled within the garment. It felt strange to adjust a pair of appendages that I shouldn’t even have, yet oddly normal. I reminded myself that comfort was the priority.

This time I went hunting for a pair of jeans and just as I pulled them up over my hips I noticed the same thing as before. The jeans were very tight getting past my hips but then loose around my waist. The jeans were far tighter than any I’d ever owned and when I pulled them over my hips the seam of the crotch sort of buried itself against my lower lips. I was abruptly very aware of the organ between my legs. I tried to wiggle around but that only made the tight feeling even more . . . erotic?

“Damn it, what is this body doing to me?”

I gave up trying to create room in the crotch and I buttoned Kristina’s jeans and noticed again that I had plenty of room around my waist now that they were above my hips. I knew from yesterday that I my hips were bigger than my waist, but the fact that I now had ‘child bearing’ hips was a little scary! My whole skeletal structure was different and this fact was almost more frightening than the more obvious female parts. Then my mind latched onto the word “child” I could get pregnant now! The implication caused my heart to race, what if I already was pregnant? How would I know? What if this were all a ruse and Kristina was just trying to escape becoming single mother?

I took a deep breath, “Don’t be stupid, Jimmy-boy. She said this was only for a couple of weeks, tops. It takes nine months to have a baby.”

I felt a little better until I wondered when Kristina had had her last period. I decided to ignore that thought. It took me a few minutes to find another t-shirt. This one was all black with the name of some band on the front that I’d never heard of. I tried to pull it on and discovered that a towel covered head doesn’t fit through very easily. With a sigh I took off the towel and was happy to note that even though my hair was still damp it wasn’t dripping.

Feeling a little better I headed to the kitchen. I’d seen beans, rice, and what I assumed was a veggie burger. I had no idea what to do with that stuff and I didn’t feel like a salad. So instead I scrambled a couple of eggs and made some toast.

“I wonder, if I can get Kristina to send me some meal ideas? Either that or I’m going to go to the grocery store and buy a steak!”

I finished eating and dumped my dishes into the sink to clean up later and absently scratched an itch just below my right breast. Then, needing to feel productive I returned to Kristina’s bedroom.

“How long will it take before I’m used to this?” I said, and then wondered if I wanted to be in Kristina’s body long enough to get used to it.

I turned on her laptop and got into my email. The first note was from Geoffrey, he told me to have fun and he’d see me when I got back. Oh, and the Irish had agreed, in principle, to the contract. That was good news. I had a note from my mom, she was wondering if I was planning to come home for Christmas and if I’d be brining my new girlfriend. I responded to that note letting her know I’d be home but I wasn’t sure if I’d bring Jill. Then I wondered what my mother would say if she could see me now?

I felt a small chuckle bubble up, “She’d be laughing her ass off! That’s what she’d be doing.”

The next note was from Jill. She wanted to know when I thought I’d be home and how the deal was going. She also warned me not to be hooking up with an Irish girl. She closed the note to remind me, “Looking is okay, but no touching!”

I stared at the email and then shook my head, damp hair swinging from side to side, “Jill, baby, I’m so far past looking but not touching!” Then I giggled and wondered if masturbating in a female body counted as cheating. Feeling a little guilty I replied to Jill and let her know that I missed her and I thought I’d be done in about two weeks.

Once through my emails I looked down at the notebook with the notes on Kristina’s life I’d taken and found her email address and pass word. She’d told me to check her email, but not to respond to anything. It was sort of like doing background research on her life. This way I’d know what was going on with her family and friends and she would write the appropriate responses. It was surreal to read through someone else’s life like this. After about a half hour of snooping I switched to her Facebook page. This was almost more enlightening than her email had been. Pictures of family and friends, I was starting to recognize her mom, step-dad, and half-sister on sight. There was a guy who’d been figuring prominently in several photos, Kristina had explained that this was her ex and that she wasn’t currently in a romantic relationship.

Then I wondered, just what the New World Research and Development Corporation was and why did the mysterious Mr. Douglas Stonewall have Kristina so scared. With nothing better to do I opened up Google.