It happened one morning. Like most mornings, I woke up and went to the bathroom to pee. And I couldn't stop peeing. I felt drained, and eventually passed out.
Some time later, I came to. Despite my efforts, I was now in the toilet bowl. There was just my torso protruding from the toilet.
My torso? No! When I looked down at myself I realized the torso wasn't mine at all. It was slender, feminine-looking, with breasts. It was mine now, though.
It happened one morning. Like most mornings, I woke up and went to the bathroom to pee.
It started normally. I got a good stream going into the bowl as I stood in front of it.
But I was feeling drained. While a little residual tiredness in the morning was OK, this was more than that, and it was getting worse. And something weird was happening in the bowl. I leaned forward, one hand against the top of the toilet tank to support myself.
Even that was getting difficult. I tried to stop, so I could switch to sitting on the toilet, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop peeing!
I stepped out of my briefs and instead sat on the toilet backward. The seat was up, but I needed to do something. Feeling the cold porcelain against my thighs was better than collapsing uncontrollably into the toilet. I leaned against the raised seat and the tank as my body continued to pee an impossibly large amount.
Some time later, I came to. I guess I had passed out there, and despite my efforts, I was now in the toilet bowl. My legs must have been entirely inside the bowl. There was just my torso protruding from the toilet.
My torso? No! When I looked down at myself I realized the torso wasn’t mine at all. It was slender, feminine-looking, with breasts. It was mine now, though. This was the body I was living in, however impossible that seemed.
I used my arms to lift my body out of the bowl, and it got more impossible. It seemed like my lower body was liquid, and as I pulled myself out, it solidified into the proper pelvis and legs of a girl. Soon I was standing on my two new legs, which weren’t there a minute before. I looked in the mirror, and the face that looked back was definitely feminine, but also something like my own. Maybe if I had had a sister, she would have looked like this.
I looked down at the rest of my body. Definite girl. Curves in the right places. Only girl between the legs. There was a vagina there as I confirmed by inserting a finger to the first knuckle. That was enough of that investigation for now, I decided.
At this point, I was thinking about the fact that my entire body had just been down in the toilet. Gross! I guess it’s time to find out what it feels like to shower as a girl.
I was naked already, so I just stepped into the tub and started the water. I stood out of the spray until it warmed up a little, and after that, it wasn’t bad. My new body seemed a bit more sensitive. Especially the breasts were sensitive! But after washing those carefully, it was not that different from any other shower I had taken.
I noticed the sensitivity more while drying off afterward. Were my towels rough? I had never noticed that before. But I dried myself off carefully.
Now what? I should put clothes on, but I could already tell most of my clothes were going to be too big. And this body should probably wear a bra, but of course I didn’t have one. I had some stretchy, bikini-style briefs I sometimes wore, and they weren’t as much too big as I thought they would be. The hips helped hold them up, though they were loose in the front where there was extra fabric to go around the balls and dick I no longer had.
I picked out one of the T-shirts that was a bit tight on me, normally, and it also was not as loose as I thought it would be, because of the breasts. In fact, my breasts pressed into it so much that when I looked closely in the mirror, I could see the outlines of my nipples. So I put it back and got a looser, more heavyweight shirt, which did not seem to have that problem.
I pretty quickly realized normal pants wouldn’t work. The only pants I could wear were sweat pants, which I could cinch tight with the drawstring around my much narrower waist, with the hips helping to hold them up.
And forget shoes. There weren’t any shoes in my house that weren’t going to simply slip off my feet the moment I tried walking anywhere. At least I was decent.
The next order of business was food. I was starving! Fortunately, I had food in the house. I had expected to eat breakfast after that pee. I prepared my usual and sat down to watch the news while eating it.
Our lead story is a new syndrome affecting many people around the world. It’s fairly uncommon, but there are hundreds of reported cases and we don’t know how many have been affected and not yet reported it. Affected people have reported that when they attempted to pee, they were unable to stop. Even after losing consciousness, they continue to pee out their entire body. In each case, after a short time the pee forms into a new body of the opposite sex. The syndrome has affected both men and women, and a few teenagers, but nobody before the onset of puberty. Medical correspondent Brent Lively has more.
Thank you, John. The cases are being reported in a widely dispersed manner around the world. There are 41 cases reported in China, 62 in India, 12 in Russia, 14 in the United States, and similar proportions of the population around the world, a total of 258 cases. Here’s what we know. Affected people get an urge to pee, and they do so, but what results is not a normal urination. Instead, they urinate their entire body, which shouldn’t even be possible, but it is for the affected people. The resulting pee quickly congeals, forming a semi-solid mass which cannot be flushed, so it is unlikely that people are flushing themselves away. The entire process takes about 15 minutes, and after a few more minutes the person awakes in their new body, with no memory loss except for their short period of unconsciousness.
The new body is always of the opposite sex to the original, and men and women have been affected equally. Those who have been checked out medically seem healthy, even to the extent of issues their original bodies suffered from being repaired. But the new bodies are not quite the same. So far, nobody has peed from the new bodies. We don’t know if they will pee normally, or change bodies again, or if the new bodies have a different mechanism for disposing of wastes.
But this brings up another issue. The new bodies do not have anuses. The entire digestive system is there but the colon ends without connecting to the outside of the body. This is sometimes seen as a birth defect in newborns and is usually corrected by surgery. With these changed people, we don’t know. They all started with an empty digestive tract, and a stronger than normal feeling of hunger, but a normal amount of food satisfies them. Since the digestive tract holds 2 to 3 days worth of food, we are not rushing them into surgery until we see what happens. Are they going to fill up their bladders and then pee themselves a new body before the remains of digested food in their colon becomes an issue? There is still a lot we don’t know about these new bodies.
For now, this condition is being referred to as Pee Body Syndrome. Back to you, John.
I hadn’t even realized my new body did not have an anus. The parts in front are there, for sure. But the news anchor went on after the medical guy was done.
We want to stress that people suffering from Pee Body Syndrome should not hide it. The US government has established a hotline, 212-555-3729, for people affected by this problem to seek assistance of any kind. Employers are urged to accommodate employees suffering from the problem whether that means working from home, using sick days, or sending out someone of the employee’s new gender to their home to help them understand any aspect of living as the other sex they need assistance with, or to find suitable clothing. If you are affected, don’t just call in sick. Contact your employer and explain what sort of help you need in order to work. Only then, if you need one or more days to prepare, should you use sick time.
I was expecting to call in sick, but they’re saying I should talk to my boss about it. We’ll see how this goes. I wrote down the number but did not call it. Instead, I called my boss’s cell phone.
“Hey, Mike, this is Clint.”
“Clint, is something wrong?”
“Yeah, if I don’t sound normal, it’s because I’m affected by this Pee Body Syndrome that’s in the news this morning.”
“You mean you’re a girl?”
“Excuse me, a woman.”
“Sorry. Of course.”
“I have clothes I can wear, but no shoes, and not quite up to the work dress code.”
“Well maybe you should work from home today. I can put you in touch with one of the women from HR. Hopefully someone can help you shop for some female clothes over the weekend.”
“That works.”
So I managed to work from home, and Terry from HR was going to come pick me up at 1 on Sunday to go shopping. We picked Sunday because of the suggestion that I might be changing every day, and be male all day Saturday.
I watched the evening news, and also the late news to watch for more info about the syndrome. Except for increasing numbers, there was nothing at dinner, but there was a network news report just before the late local news.
Breaking news: Pee Body Syndrome is now confirmed to lead to alternating sexes every day.
The earliest people affected by the condition report that roughly 24 hours after their first change, they felt the urge to pee again, and when they did so, they changed back into their original sex. The changed bodies in these cases are very similar to the originals, but with serious medical conditions eliminated. We expect the people affected by the syndrome are going to alternate being male and female via once-a-day pee sessions.
Medical studies are underway to determine a basis for what is occurring.
I stripped down to just the briefs for bed, but I had a thought. They said the people who swapped twice got their original bodies back, but the other-sex body was definitely different. I took a picture of my face, and I looked up online about women’s measurements. I didn’t have a proper tape measure, but I made a makeshift one using a ruler to measure along an extension cord, marking it with a Sharpie. I was 5’5” tall, 39 inch bust, 36 inches below the bust, which apparently gave me a 36C bra size, 32 inch waist, 42 inches around the hips. Was hard to say about clothes sizes, since there were a bunch of different variations for height and how high the breasts were on the body, but my breast height seemed average as far as I could tell, which would mean I wore a 12 or large size. Also, I wore a women’s 8 shoe, which was equivalent to a men’s 7, which was why my men’s 9 1/2s were way too big. Some other garments had special sizes, but I didn’t have time for it. I went to bed.
In the morning, I felt the urge to pee. I started to do it on the toilet, remembering as a girl I’d have to sit down, but I had a thought. Why not do it in the bathtub? Put the plug in, and it would be just like filling the tub. I wouldn’t have to extract my body from the toilet afterward. If I somehow peed normally and stayed a girl, then I’d just pull the plug and wash it down the drain.
I removed the briefs, put in the plug, put the curtain outside, and squatted down and started peeing. And sure enough, once I got started I couldn’t stop. What I didn’t realize was how much of a stream I would get. When I held myself open down there, and pushed, the stream rivaled what I got from my penis. I ended up sitting down and leaning back in the tub, with my knees bent high and my legs spread as I continued peeing. When I let up on it, at first the flow slowed a bit, but pretty soon it was stronger than it started without any effort on my part to keep it going. I watched the stream from that little hole just above my vagina to where it hit the tub a foot away and trickled down to join the growing puddle over the plugged drain hole. Eventually, the puddle reached my feet and even my butt, but by that time I was too weak to do anything but watch it keep going.
Some time later, I awoke in my male body in the tub. There was a tiny bit of liquid remaining next to the plug - not enough to sensibly try to collect - but what I noticed more was some crystalline solid matter near but not in that liquid. Was that the part of me that the transformation could not use? Rather than simply showering it away, I found an empty pill bottle and used a knife to scrape it loose and save as much of it as I could in the bottle. Then I took a shower and got dressed normally in clothes that fit.
After breakfast, I called the government hotline. They asked how they could help me, and I instead suggested I could help them. I told them about the crystals, and they transferred me to a female scientist.
“You aren’t the first person to report such crystals left behind after one of these gender changes, but you are the first person to save them. Thank you. Can you get to a FedEx office today?”
“Yes, I should be able to,” I responded after thinking for a moment about where there was one nearby.
“Great. I can email you a prepaid order that will include the shipping cost as well as packaging costs, so all you will have to do is print the document I send and bring the bottle.”
I gave her my email address, and she read it back and confirmed the spelling, and she sent the document so I could confirm receipt while I was still on the line with her. She thanked me again, and that was the end of the call.
A little while later, I went out and dropped off the bottle at FedEx, and combined that with a regular weekly grocery shopping trip while I was out. And I couldn’t help noticing the “female products” at the store. If I was going to be female half the time, was I going to need these... once a month? once every two months? Never? Nobody mentioned this in the reports so far, but I bought small packages of tampons and pads so I would have them in case I did need them.
After I got home, I thought about my shopping trip tomorrow. I was probably going to end up with a lot of clothes. I needed to make space for them. At first I tried to make space by clearing out some of my existing clothes, but I realized there was no hope to make enough space. What I needed instead was more furniture to store the clothes. Maybe I’d get something more permanent later, but for now, I bought one of those kits you put together yourself, pressed wood stuff. Cheap and temporary but available for pickup at Wal-Mart today. Actually, two of them. A dresser to hold things that did not need to hang and a closet to hang things in, along with 30 hangers.
In the morning, I predictably changed into a girl again, again using the tub for convenience. Sunday was normally my laundry day, and I did that in the morning, while wearing, I realized, the only other pants that would fit my girl body until my shopping trip today. I just managed to finish cleaning up after lunch when Terry showed up.
Knowing I had no shoes, she had brought along a pair of flip-flops I could wear until I got proper shoes.
“I brought these for you, since you’d said you had no wearable shoes.”
“Thank you.”
“What you are wearing is suitable for a woman... only for going out to buy better-fitting clothes.”
“Yep. That’s about what I thought, too.”
“Do you have socks? They’ll want you to have them when trying on shoes.”
I tried on some of mine and found they fit acceptably. They did not go with the flip-flops, though, so I was going to carry them, and Terry offered to hold them in her purse. Another thing I realized I should have if I am going to be a woman, at least some of the time.
“How about underwear?”
“Men’s bikini-style. The only thing I had that looked remotely feminine, and they actually fit surprisingly well, just differently. They’re tight getting over the hips, and then contract and fit without being tight below the narrowest part of my waist.”
“That’s actually how a lot of women’s panties fit a body like yours, except that they’ll be smooth across the front. There are different styles, some high on the side like that, others with more coverage over the hips. And there are the infamous thong ones which are nothing but thin straps everywhere but in the front. You can choose any style you like; unless you are wearing something skimpy or very thin - something which would be inappropriate for the office - none of them are really going to show.”
“OK. I’ve got my wallet with credit cards. Also this.” I handed her the page I’d written measurements on. “My best effort at taking my measurements.”
“Great. That should come in handy.”
“Anything else?”
“No. I brought scissors.”
“What for?”
“To cut the tags off some of what you buy so you can wear them home from the store. The first stop’s going to be at Wal-Mart to get you a few basics and something so you’ll look like a proper woman, and then you can change into those clothes before we look for other things.”
“Makes sense. Thank you.”
So we headed out like she said. At Wal-Mart, we started with panties. I had never imagined myself shopping for women’s panties before. I wasn’t into that sort of thing. But I had never imagined myself turning into a woman before, either! Now it wasn’t a fetish, it was a necessity!
There were some individual, higher-priced underwear, which she held up around me to judge for size, starting with sizes based on my measurements.
“Hmm, I am not sure whether an 8 or 9 panty will be best for you. It might actually depend on the style or brand. But these are cheap. If you decide they’re too tight, go up a size. Too loose, go down one. You’ll figure it out.”
So I got two styles of panties, one a lot like what I had on now, and one that covered the hips. Rather than the loose ones, we bought packaged ones which were cheaper. They came in three-packs that cost what one of the loose ones did. The two packs only made six... but I figured I would be a woman only three or four days a week, so it was enough for now. Unable to decide between the two sizes, based on my own measurements and a guide on the packages, I bought the 8s.
“Bras are more complicated, but you can try them on, and you will,” Terry emphasized.
I nodded. I guess she noticed my timidity when we started looking at the panties. But she reminded me again that this was necessary now that I was a woman, at least half the time. I have to own clothes for that situation all the time.
“These measurements will give us a good guess to start from,” Terry said as we entered the section with the bras.
We started with a 36C bra, and Terry went into the changing room for me to help me with it. She showed me the trick of putting on your bra backward so you can fasten it in the front, and then spinning it around your body before putting your arms through the straps.
“With practice you can learn to fasten your bra behind your back, but this is good for you now since you’re really just starting to wear bras for the very first time.”
And she pointed out some details of the fit. We decided to accept this one.
“I’m not an expert bra sizer. But once we have you in some decent clothes and wearing one of these bras, I’ll take you to the mall where in one of the stores we can have a woman who is an expert bra sizer go over these details and others to find your perfect bra. Because of that, I’m just going to have you get one bra here so you have something to wear.”
We also got one outfit I could change into, and sneakers in my size. At the mall, she led me to a women’s restroom first, where a handicapped stall served as a makeshift dressing room for me to change into my new clothes. But the bra sizer Terry mentioned is how I ended up showing my naked breasts to two women on this trip. The sizer at Victoria’s Secret was very helpful.
“Some women don’t realize that there is more to choosing a bra than band size and cup size. Breasts come in different shapes as well. They can be wider or narrower, and they can protrude more or less from the body. Both of these measurements get combined into a single fullness measurement in the cup size, but depending on whether your cup size is based more on width or depth, different bra styles may fit you better.”
She actually ended up having Terry get topless in the booth too as a model.
“Terry has deep breasts, so this style that has very full coverage over the breast helps to smooth out the breast and keeps it from hanging out. So even though you are both wearing a 36C, some 36Cs will work better on Terry, and other styles will work better on your wider, flatter breasts, Clint.”
And she demonstrated by having us both try on some of the styles. Ultimately, she decided that my breasts were close enough to the ideal shape breast that most styles will work for me, but the ones that worked better on wider breasts would work better for me in some cases. She also told me how I could switch to what they called sister sizes, a 38B or 34D, in styles that didn’t quite fit right in different ways. It was more than I ever thought I would need to know about bras, but I could tell it was going to be helpful to know it.
Ultimately I just bought one bra there as well, but now I knew what to look for. Once I was through with that, the rest of the shopping was easier, even when we were looking at skirts and dresses.
We spent about 4 hours visiting other stores in the mall and elsewhere, despite only coming home with a maximum of 7 of each sort of garment. Terry made sure my purchases included one dress, one skirt, and one each of several other kinds of garments I might not have thought about, just to make sure I’m aware of those things. Traveling to different stores and teaching me used up a lot of that time.
At the end of it all, when Terry helped me carry the several bags of clothing into my house, she stayed to tell me secrets of womanhood I should know. She explained about tampons and pads; the flow is usually light for the first day or so, heavy for about one or two days, and then light again for a day, and bigger tampons or pads are meant for the heavy flow in the middle. Makes sense. Also about wiping my butt - which I am supposed to do by wiping away from the vagina. That would be incredibly useful information if my body still pooped at all, but I couldn’t blame her for not knowing that aspect of my change.
But I was well prepared to return to the office as a woman - on Tuesday, since Monday I was a man and went in normally. By lunchtime, I had put on a big CLINT nametag like a newbie to help people I encountered recognize me. And I gave a bunch of the same answers repeatedly. “Yes, I’m still going by Clint even when I’m a woman. I’ll be a man again tomorrow, and I don’t want to have two different names or pick one of those gender-ambiguous names. No, I’m not interested in men. I’m not sure yet if I’m interested in women when I’m a woman. I haven’t had sex as a woman yet, and I’m not going to talk about it when I do because that sort of talk is not appropriate for the office.” That last comment got several guys to drop that line of questioning, making them realize they had gone too far and asked something they wouldn’t even have asked most of the other women in the office.
It was better on Thursday, though there were still people seeing me as a woman for the first time. But I made it through a week of work and it made me feel like I could keep living my life.
I was still getting used to the fact that I didn’t go to the bathroom anymore, except to change bodies. It had become part of my routine in the office - I’d stop to pee first thing after getting in, midmorning after washing out my coffee cup, either before lunch or after lunch, again in the afternoon, and again before going home and now I didn’t do any of those. I needed to invent reasons to get up out of my seat more often! Also, since I was a girl half the time now, never having to go into the restroom meant there was no chance I’d accidentally walk into the wrong one. I guess I could still use them for washing hands, or changing tampons/pads or something about my clothes, but I’ve been washing hands in the kitchen and haven’t had issues with the rest.
By the weekend, a lot more information was coming out about the condition.
They had a plausible mechanism. Somehow, the entire body’s worth of cells were converting to stem cells. And for some reason, as they did so, they were entering the bloodstream, getting separated out in the kidneys, and passing into the bladder until it was full. After this, they would build up in the bloodstream a bit, keeping enough blood cells there to not endanger the body, and after that they would build up in the body tissues. By this point the person feels a very strong need to urinate. Those stem cells don’t want to be in all those other places, so this urination triggers the removal of the rest of the stem cells from the body. It also, for some reason, causes the reaction that converts the body’s cells to stem cells to go into overdrive. They could not explain that.
And the stem cells are not exactly normal, either. They have some novel genetic factors which seem to cause the cells to generate an adult body, or a teen if appropriate, rather than, say, an infant. Details of these genetic factors make the bodies age properly up to about age 25, to match the person’s natural age. But in people any older than that, the newly produced bodies come out significantly younger than they originally were. So, while it may be too early to confirm it, it’s possible the condition comes with eternal youth.
Another odd thing about these cells allows the sex change to happen. Normally sex is associated with the XX or XY chromosomes. But those chromosomes merely control the expression of sex. All the genes necessary to create male and female bodies are present in every body, whether it has XX or XY chromosomes. The stem cells produced by a body expressing its normal gender carry genes that suppress the normal gender in the new body, and those produced by a body suppressing the gender have these genes deactivated, and allow the normal gender to be expressed.
They have studied the reproductive systems of affected people. Males seem to produce viable sperm, though in those originally female, they always contain an X chromosome and would lead to all female children ... possibly female children affected by the syndrome. It’s still too early to tell whether the condition would be inherited. The female reproductive systems seem active but not in the ovulating phase, and since they only last for a day, for all practical purposes the females are sterile. However, they do appear to have egg cells which could be harvested, fertilized, and grown in a surrogate mother. One such test has already started, but again, it’s still far too early to know whether it will be successful. It was likewise reported the female reproductive systems are never in the menstruating phase.
The genes controlling the expression of sex in these people are clear genetic markers for the condition, but genetic samples taken before the changes started do not show these genes. Where the genes came from and why they suddenly appeared in what they have now found to be about 1500 people widely dispersed around the world is unknown. Those affected are generally not related genetically, and don’t have any common environmental factors linking them. They have no explanation whatsoever for which people were affected.
Most affected people quickly adapted to changing either in the morning after waking up or in the evening before going to bed. It seemed that, even without an urge to pee, as soon as 8 hours after forming a new body you could pee on purpose to trigger a change, while by 24 hours after, the urge to pee was there, and you could hold it perhaps 3-4 hours at most. This allowed people to quickly adjust their schedules and thereafter stick to a 24 hour schedule.
So that was all very interesting. I had never had sex as a woman yet, but I had already thought that finding another person with my condition, but out of phase with my body, might be best. Now I know phase can be adjusted, and the tiny field of candidates is twice as big. But if I did find one of the rare other people with this condition as a potential spouse, we wouldn’t be able to have kids together. We’d have to find a surrogate to carry our child. But I could potentially get together with any bisexual person, anybody who could accept I was male some of the time and female some of the time. Not sure where I’d look for one, but if my partner was female, we could have children normally. If my partner was male, we’d still need a surrogate. I had been a heterosexual male, but now I don’t know what I am.
This morning, while I was female, these thoughts got me aroused, and I investigated what masturbation felt like as a girl. Of course I knew I’d have to experiment a bit, but that was something I thought I should know about my new body: How did it respond sexually? The answer was awesomely! Either women had it a LOT better than men, or my sexual response got magnified greatly as part of getting the new body. And that was just with external stimulation. Women used dildos or vibrators inside them to simulate the feel of a penis. I had never desired to have a penis inside me before, but if it felt that good without anything inside, doing that with a vibrator going inside me must be incredible!
I had sat on the toilet for this, the first time I’d been there in a week, and it was probably a good thing, as I leaked a good deal of what I realized was meant to be my internal lubrication. I washed up and went about other chores.
Also, I had a skirt and a dress I’d never worn, and I really should try wearing them at some point. So that I could do it when I could simply go home if I got uncomfortable with it, I did it today, taking a trip to the mall to go buy myself more female clothes. And it went OK. Once I got going, I barely noticed there weren’t two thin layers of fabric between my legs. I bought a couple more outfits, now that I had had some time to wear the ones I had.
I stopped at the sex shop too. There were probably other places I could find them, some maybe only by asking for something stored behind the counter, but it was the one place I was sure I could find dildos and vibrators. This store had always been a little controversial here, though I am sure there are lots of them down in The City. They managed it by making it adults only. Or at least, nobody under 18 without being accompanied by a parent or guardian. And it was enforced. I worried that I was going to get rejected at the door, since while I somewhat resembled the photo on my ID, it said I was male and 30, and while I might still look old enough to be 30, I looked young enough they’d check ID, and there was no way I could pass as male. So when I stopped at the place, I told the guy I always thought of as a bouncer right up front.
“Yes, we wondered if this was going to be an issue, but you are the first to inquire. And I know you don’t have any ID that really looks like you. You’re probably going to have to get some, but I am not sure what they are doing about that yet. But let me tell you what. We do actually have a policy that lets some minors in here unaccompanied provided they have prior parental authorization. So you come back tomorrow when you look like your ID. We’re open 12-6 on Sunday. Bring this form I will get for you in a moment, and your ID, and ... we usually ask you to bring the person with you when you want to register, but since you obviously can’t, let me take your picture now and I’ll put you in the system pending the parent form. Then we’ll get your female self entered on the system as a permitted minor with a note that you’ll have this ID.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
He got me the form, and I put it in one of my shopping bags and came home.
When I was male again Sunday, at some point I remembered this experience and I took the time to get myself suitably aroused. That turned out to be pretty easy. And the experience was... still not as good as it was as a woman, but better than I remembered it as a man. Maybe as good as I fondly remembered it as a teenager. Was that really better than I’d had it at 30? So I think the change increased my sexual pleasure and it’s also true women get more from it than men.
I did my laundry and went about my day. And I went out to get my female self registered at the sex shop. While I was there, I went in, and asked the guy inside. “Pretend I am shopping for my daughter. She’s masturbated but never had sex, and she wants something to put inside herself. What do you recommend?”
He showed me several choices, and I decided to go with a dildo and a somewhat smallish vibrator as a start.
After having proved to myself that I can wear a skirt in public, I went to the office in one. I really think everybody who knew me noticed. Only about a third of them commented on it, with half the comments neutral or positive, a couple catcalls and the like (from people I’d already told I wasn’t interested in dating and they were each warned it was the last time or I would report it to HR), and a few like Frank’s:
“Wow, really going all out with this female thing, huh? A skirt?”
“It wasn’t my choice to become female, Frank, but I’ve decided I am not going to hide it. This is a normal, accepted, and in some cases expected way for a woman to dress and I wanted to prove to myself that I can look the part.”
“Well, it does look good on you.”
“Thank you.”
I felt my responses to these had turned potentially problematic interactions into good ones, and made note of it for the future. The situation was, as far as I knew, permanent, so it was forever going to be possible that people who first met me as a man would later encounter me as a woman.
I wore pants the rest of the week, but I felt good about the experience. This was something I knew I could do now.
It was Wednesday evening when I first tried out my new toys. The first thing I had to do was break my hymen. This was expected; in fact, it was likely to be a regular occurrence for me, because one of the things I caught in one of the news reports was that anybody who started male or who started female but had an intact hymen when the change happened has had their hymen regenerate every time they turned female.
Weeks passed, then months. I grew completely used to and comfortable with being female every other day, and my coworkers got used to it, too. I kept watch for any news reports about the condition. One report, apparently due to some people with the condition getting medical exams each day they turned female, confirmed the regenerating hymen thing, and also said the reproductive system resets basically to the no-uterine-lining state right after the period ends every time the female body was formed, so unless they found some way of prolonging the time you could spend in one body, there was no way I could get pregnant. However, the machinery was there to produce a pregnancy, even in those who started male, if such a prolonged state could be maintained.
Two months after my change, I saw a report about more people getting the syndrome, who fell into two categories. Some women who were pregnant when it started changed to male the next time they peed after giving birth. The pregnancy apparently suppressed the change, so one of us getting pregnant only requires a roughly two week span with no changes to initiate the pregnancy, and then the body will stay female until birth. Maybe. These women were peeing and pooping normally during their pregnancy, leading people to wonder if one of us did get pregnant, would the body switch to the normal human excretion activity? But so far nobody had even managed to go two days without changing, much less two weeks.
The other category was young teens (or realistically, tweens, 11 and 12 year olds). It appears that some trigger, early on in puberty, flips the switch and puts the body into a state where the change will occur. It’s too early to tell the rate, but the limited data available suggests that they could have been affected at the same rate as older people, and simply inhibited from changing until puberty enabled it. There was a program collecting DNA from 10 and 11 year olds, hoping they’d get something from somebody with the syndrome who had not started showing symptoms yet, so they could compare that DNA with the DNA after the change, as well as with the bulk of DNA from unaffected people, and figure out if it was possible to detect the condition in people not showing symptoms yet. There were very few of these, but given how few, relative to the world’s population, changed at all, it wasn’t too surprising.
So the number of affected people, who were now being called changers by some, switchers by others, was slowly increasing, but we were still so rare that most people would not know one.
Eventually, they confirmed the rates of new people starting to change. The change originally affected about 1 in 3.5 million people past puberty. There are about a billion younger people in the world, and about 250,000 of them reach puberty each day. So they expected one new changer every two weeks. The rate of births was similar, so they expected one mother to start changing after giving birth every two weeks, for nine months, I guess. It was five months in when they announced 11 teens and 8 mothers had started changing, very much in line with the estimate.
By this time, the USA had followed many other countries’ lead by introducing a “switching” gender to apply to people affected by the syndrome. Well, they did this two months ago, but the individual states issued IDs, and so each state had to figure out how they were going to do it. And most states only had one or two affected people, so for the most part they didn’t consider it a priority. California had 11 such people, though, so they established a system to deal with it, and most other states copied theirs. Under this system, the affected person and a witness (usually a family member, doctor, or coworker) had to attest under oath that the person was affected, and the affected person had to show up for an appointment on the day they were in the opposite gender from their original to get a picture that way. They’d get a new ID or license showing pictures as both genders in a slightly reduced size and a rearranged form of the other data. New York’s version of this system went into effect this week, as the news joked a “Christmas present” for the 6 people in the state affected, and Terry and I went on an officially excused trip during work time to let me apply today.
The rules the US established in theory went into effect immediately, even before the new IDs were available. The Supreme Court found one of the “bathroom bills” of recent years unconstitutional on a challenge from two syndrome sufferers (ironically, one who was born male and objected to being forced to use the men’s restroom at times she was obviously female, and one who was born female, and objected to being forced to use the “substandard” women’s restrooms with no urinals while he had a functional penis, and doubly ironically, because switchers didn't pee regular pee anymore, though this never seemed to come up in the press and wasn't mentioned during any of the trials). This paved the way for the federal government to establish uniform rules. Under the new rules, anyone who was on a medically certified gender change program could enter the restroom of their new gender whenever they were attired appropriately. Anyone who had completed such a program, meaning they had had their surgery and were now fully (as much as that was possible) changed to their new gender should only use the new gender’s restroom. And switchers should use the restroom they currently looked like, which didn’t necessarily mean the organs they had now, as some were going as one gender all the time, with the exception that if they had to change gender in a public restroom, they could use either. Of course, switchers did not pee or poop, so they were most likely to use a public restroom if they did have to change genders, though I suppose they could use one for hand-washing or checking appearance. Or changing clothes, which I’d already done once without being questioned. Or masturbating, I thought with an evil grin.
Nine months in, and very likely the last of the already-pregnant changers gave birth and started changing. There were now 20 teens and 17 new mothers who had become changers in addition to the original group. There was no progress on any sort of drug or procedure to keep somebody from changing. The longest any switcher had managed to go without involuntarily starting to pee their body out to begin a change was 34 hours. So based on our current knowledge all switchers were effectively infertile as females. Some of them had already fathered children. Well, gotten women pregnant, anyway. The first of those children would be born soon.
They had made no real progress on identifying a genetic marker for changers. They had managed to get samples of before and after DNA for changers, and there was no identifiable difference. The genes which were active in changers causing the chromosomal gender to alternately be suppressed or active and those causing the change to occur were both present in over half the population, as part of the so-called junk genes which were never known, until now, to be active. Based on the presence of these genes, there was a test that could eliminate about 45% of people as potential changers. They had not identified any cause for these genes to become active. They had found that these genes were not present in other mammals, including all known primates, so this was a human-only condition.
I had never used the tampons and pads. My female body never reached a condition where I would need them, resetting after every change. But I kept them. There was no telling what might happen in the future. We didn’t know why it had started, so we had no idea about how it might change again in the future.
The first children born to changer fathers, conceived after the change started, were born recently. Only 3 so far; there were, after all, less than 2000 of us in the world. These were born to changers who started out male and were already married, and simply had children with their existing wives normally. And while they all had the genetic factor that would allow them to possibly become changers when they reached puberty, none of them were changing from birth, born with both sets of organs, or any other such silliness.
As we approached the first anniversary of the change, I started to think about dating. I had dated before, but my last sort-of regular date had moved to California 3 months before the change and we weren’t close enough yet for me to quit my job and follow her there, so we split up. And I’d just never found anybody right in the 3 months after that before everything got crazy.
Now I had different priorities. First and foremost, I needed a partner who was bi, or bi-curious, or at the very least OK dating somebody who was going to be the opposite sex from the one they wanted to date half the time. Another switcher would be nice, but at the time I got my ID there were 6 in the entire state of New York. It just wasn’t likely. There were several reasons for me to prefer a woman: First, that was what I was familiar with. Second, if it was ever going to be successful to the point we wanted to have kids, if I didn’t marry a woman then we’d have to have a surrogate to carry our kids. Again, assuming no further changes. It had been stable for a year; it was reasonable to assume it was permanent. Third, while I was not opposed to the idea of my female body being penetrated by a man, when I was male, the lack of an anus meant I had nothing to penetrate, even if I was OK with that if it had been possible. If I dated a bi man, he’d have to be the one penetrated when I was male. I’m sure such people existed, but it meant looking for someone very specific.
I found a dating site that promised to be LGBTQ-friendly, and signed up. I had used sites before that mostly catered to straight people, and they usually had a policy that the site was basically free for women. Men got to send a few messages for free but had to pay to send more. Here the policy was fairer - applied equally to everybody, anyway. You got more free messages at the start, and 3 every month that were use-’em-or-lose-’em, but everybody had to pay to keep sending after the free ones.
They had a surprisingly long list of gender options. Beyond male and female, there were options for people transitioning both ways, those who had completed surgery for changing both ways, those who merely dressed as the other gender, those who only identified as the other gender, both genders, or none but had normal organs, those who had organs of both genders since birth, and (with a “new” tag) one just for me, those who had both organs alternately because of Pee Body Syndrome. If you chose a “both” option, you got additional options under it for identify as male, identify as female, identify as neither, or identify as both. The last seemed to be what I was doing.
For the part for what I was looking for, there were boxes I could check for male, female, and “trans or other.” If I marked “trans or other” and exactly one of male and female, I could also choose: Show me dates who present or identify as my preferred gender, show me dates who have organs of my preferred gender, include dates with organs of both genders, and finally, show me all trans dates. If I marked all of male, female, and “trans or other” then the “preferred gender” and “both organs” options disappeared and “show me all trans dates” was automatically selected. If I marked only “trans or other” at the top then the “preferred gender” boxes each split into male and female options. Clearly they had thought this through.
I marked female, trans, show me dates who have organs of my preferred gender, and include dates with organs of both genders. I hesitated on that last one. This was going to show me other switchers and people with birth defects that gave them both organs. In both cases it was likely such a person could not bear children for us if we married. But it might be good to meet people in those categories, anyway.
The mathematician in me made me want to consider the number of choices. There were 20 choices for gender including all the “identify” options. For what you wanted, it could be male only, female only, both, both with trans (which automatically included all trans types), or just one of them with trans, which then let you choose any combination of the identify, organs, and both organs options except none of them, or all trans. That was 20 options, but not the same 20. If you picked only the trans option at the top, many more combinations were possible. Some of those combinations weren’t very likely, but they were possible, and each would get you a different subset of the people registered on the site, assuming all 20 gender options were used by at least one person. Having figured this out, I went back to the choices I selected previously and went on entering my information.
Over two days, I took selfies as male and female, and edited those into one image to submit as my photo. Unconventional, but I was sure they would understand why I did that. And then my profile was complete and I could look for people I might be interested in and wait for others to find me.
It was about a month before I went on a date with someone from this site, and three months before I went on a second date. That was with Brenda, who I worried was a little too happy to please me, but more agreeable than my previous 3 dates.
Brenda and I dated for a few months before I allowed her to spend the night with me one Friday night when I started male. In the morning after, I sat in the tub to change to female, but no sooner did I start peeing than Brenda burst in, and knocked me out with a paperweight.
When I came to, I was only a head, protruding from the ass of what I was sure was Brenda’s corpse, seeing how my feet were protruding from her mouth. I wasn’t sure how much of my female body had formed inside her, but I apparently at least had partial lungs. I could breathe, and speak, a little. So as loud as I could (which was only half as loud as my normal speaking voice) I called out, “Alera, call 911!”
“Do you want to make an emergency call, Clint?” the computerized voice asked.
“Yes!”
“Calling 911.”
I explained my situation to the 911 operator, who was stunned a bit by my situation but glad I was able to speak and seemingly not in immediate danger. She sent both an ambulance and police for me - an ambulance to help me, and Brenda on the off chance she was somehow still alive, and police because I had reported a crime.
“Make sure you tell them when they arrive to announce themselves loudly so I can hear. I can open the door by voice and let them in, but I don’t want to leave the door unlocked while I’m essentially paralyzed here.”
“Understood. Personnel will announce themselves loudly.”
It was about 10 minutes later when I heard a loud, “Police! Please open the door!”
“Alera, unlock the door.”
“Unlocking front door.”
“It’s open!” I called as loud as I could. I am not sure if the police heard me or just heard the door unlocking, but in moments two officers were standing in my bathroom looking at the grisly scene.
The male officer stated, “OK, this is what I was told to expect but I can still hardly believe it.”
The female officer was shaking her head. “Never a dull day on the job.”
The male officer said, “OK, I’m going to start a report. The ambulance will be here soon, and I will go to the hospital with you and continue the report after they get you extricated from her.”
I interrupted, “Ma’am, can you go get me a change of clothes from my bedroom to send with me so I have something to wear after they get me out? Female clothes, a full outfit, please.”
“Sure, no problem.”
The male officer continued, “OK, tell me in your own words what happened.”
“I and Brenda, the woman I’m inside, were dating; she knew about my condition. She was here in my home overnight on a date, our fifth date, while I was male, and stayed the night in bed with me. We had sex with condoms. As is usual for me because of my condition, I got into the tub here to pee myself into my female body in the morning, and the plan was to continue our date. But just as I started peeing, Brenda came in and knocked me out with a paperweight.”
“Uh huh. I see it here outside the tub.”
“And I was knocked out for the rest of it, but I assume Brenda either drank my pee or forced it up her ass, because my new body formed - partially, anyway - inside her. I can see her pussy here in front of my face, so I assume my head is protruding from her ass.”
“That is what it looks like.”
The female officer returned with a paper grocery bag presumably with my clothes in it. And just then there was knocking at the door. “Ambulance! Please open the door!”
“It’s open!” the officer yelled.
After a moment the ambulance crew found us there and police let them take over. The male officer rode to the hospital with me, carrying the bag with my clothes, and the female officer stayed to finish processing the crime scene, documenting basically everything in my house that seemed relevant.
The ambulance crew had already found no signs of life in Brenda, but at the hospital they did other tests to distinguish my life signs from her lack of them. After half an hour, one of the doctors there told me, “We don’t have much experience with people with your syndrome, and we’ve never heard of this, but based on the other places people with your syndrome have formed and gotten stuck, we believe there’s no way to unform the parts of you that are formed until the whole body forms, and there’s no way to make that happen that doesn’t mutilate Brenda’s body rather badly. Since you don’t seem in immediate danger, we are going to let the officer document what he wants to about Brenda’s body and then cut her open to get you out.
The officer came in and took about a dozen photos from different angles. He also took her fingerprints and foot prints and asked the doctors to take a blood sample and samples that should provide clean DNA for Brenda.
He said, “I am going to let the doctors take over now to get you out. This procedure will be recorded for evidence, but I will wait outside. And your clothes are here.”
The officer left the bag on a table where I could see it and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The same doctor who spoke to me before said, “We aren’t sure we can safely knock you out with drugs right now, so you’re going to have to stay awake for this. That also means you can scream out if we hurt you during the process, so please do.”
Another doctor entered, and the one who had been speaking to me introduced him as Dr. Jacobs.
Jacobs said, “I actually serve as the medical examiner at this hospital. I usually don’t work on live people, but I am a medical doctor. I’m here because I have experience cutting open dead bodies for autopsies. I am going to perform an autopsy on Brenda later, but cutting her body open to get you out is the priority now.”
Jacobs did a few brief checks and declared Brenda dead, and then with help from two other doctors, started working on freeing me. They used two pairs of sturdy scissors I assumed were meant for opening a body for surgery, and when they had to cut through her bones, a small saw. Only once did they do anything that caused me any pain and I yelped. Mostly they came into contact with my unformed mass inside her, which tickled in a strange way. As they opened her up, my cells oozed out and once freed, piece by piece they formed quickly into a normal body.
Eventually, I was all free, and they did a couple quick tests and helped me to a shower in an adjoining bathroom to remove the bits of Brenda’s blood, flesh, and bone that were all over me. They provided me with towels and my clothes, and waited in the main room for me to get dressed. They did more tests on me before declaring me healthy, and turned me over to the officer, who came in as they were leaving.
“OK, It seemed like you finished your story just before the ambulance crew arrived. Brenda knocked you out and you awoke as I found you.”
“Correct, sir.”
“Are there any more details you can remember that you think are important?”
“I don’t really know. Brenda had seemed eager to please me, maybe a little too eager, but she had never shown any desire to harm me until this happened. I was completely taken by surprise. I’m sure your partner found Brenda’s clothes and purse, probably still in my bedroom since she didn’t bring them into the bathroom with her.”
“I have not spoken with her, but I did observe male and female clothes and a purse on the floor of your bedroom during our initial check of the place. OK, I’m going to call and get us a ride back over there.”
The officer and I rode in the back of another police car to get back to my home. He talked with the female officer for a bit, and then came back to me.
“So far your story checks out. Detectives will have to examine all the evidence to confirm your story, but for now you’re free to go. Just don’t go on any sudden trips, OK?”
“Sure. Just planning to stay here and get back to work Monday.”
“Good. We’re going to pick up all the evidence - that includes both sets of clothes we found on the floor, in case you are looking for those - and then leave.”
And in 5 minutes they were gone.
What a crazy ordeal. I called me boss and let him know, and he also thought it was the craziest thing he ever heard of, but was glad I was OK. He told me to take a couple days off, so I didn’t actually go back to work until Wednesday.
The next Friday afternoon, the police called me. They had decided my story was correct and that she had caused all this, and arranged to meet me Saturday at home to discuss the details.
It was a different officer, a detective, who came out. He explained it like this.
“In Brenda’s purse we had her keys, passwords, and everything else we needed to search her place, her computer, and everything. We found she had been planning this. She had an intestinal ulcer that she believed could only be treated with a novel form of stem cell therapy, but her insurance refused to pay for the experimental procedure. But having heard that Pee Body Syndrome sufferers basically turn into a mass of stem cells, she was determined to find one and have you pee stem cells through her intestines to try to cure her. There’s no way it would have worked; those are your stem cells, not hers, and you’re not a relative of hers. The only way it could have possibly worked is if it turned her into a clone of you, and these stem cells have not been behaving like that.”
“Oh, God. How demented she must have been.”
“In any case, this fully corroborated your story, so we’re closing this case as entirely her fault. She committed a crime, assault and battery for certain, and due to the bodily invasion, probably rape, though it would be a landmark case to apply the term rape to what she did. Maybe attempted murder, too. But since she died doing it, there won’t be a prosecution. If she had survived this somehow, a prosecutor would probably try all those charges to see what would stick. I’ve brought back the evidence we took from your home, except the things that belonged to Brenda.”
“Good. I don’t want to see any of her things. Go burn them.”
“We actually offer them to her next of kin - or will, when we find them. It seems she was pretty detached from any family.”
He handed me a bag of evidence they took from here, including my clothes that night and the paperweight.
“We can offer you counseling if you need it.”
“How long is that offer good for?”
“Two years. You have two years to decide to accept it, and you can stay in the counseling for two years once you start.”
“Good. I don’t need it now, but I will want to date again in the future, and I will probably need the counseling before I can start.”
“I’ll send you the information so you can get started when you are ready.”
“Thank you.”
The detective left, and I was left to contemplate the situation.
The detective said I was raped. And I realized he was right. She must have put my penis into her ass or her mouth after she knocked me out, and that is a sexual act. One that I did not consent to. I was raped. I am not sure how much she knew about my condition, but she knew I had it and she knew at least the detail that I turned into stem cells during my change.
She should have known that I was going to turn into a my-entire-body-sized bundle of stem cells. Surely she should have thought she only needed maybe 5% of my cells to penetrate through her entire intestine. Why didn’t she separate from me? Maybe by the time she got enough she had trouble doing that or passed out herself.
I have to assume she had never witnessed the change - it was possible for her to have seen it, since there were videos out there, but maybe she never had. She must have thought I peed out a batch of stem cells that surrounded my body and changed my organs, rather than turning my entire body into stem cells and remaking an entire new body. In that case, she would have wanted to take all I put out. Then, by the time she realized her mistake, she was already so bloated with me inside her that she couldn’t get up, and I just kept on flowing into her. She was probably awake for several minutes and aware of her predicament before she passed out.
I am not going to feel sorry for her, though. This was karma. She did a terrible thing, trying to take advantage of me in that way, and I feel good knowing she must have suffered, even if only for a few minutes, aware she was going to die before she finally did so.
I opened the dating site, where my profile has been set to not looking and not subscribing to send messages for months, since I started dating Brenda more regularly. I had it find me some matches, and some of them looked potentially OK, but I realized I couldn’t even get myself to send a message to one of them, and I shut it off again.
I probably do need the counseling, and sooner than I thought.
I distracted myself by reviewing the state of knowledge about the syndrome. There had been a lot of fascinating studies, but they were no longer headline news and I had to go look for them.
The videos of the change were remarkable. The urethra and the cells around it - including the penis in male bodies - survives to the end. Literally the entire body flows through the urethra. At first, it’s only at the pace of regular peeing when peeing is urgent - about a minute to deliver 16 ounces of fluid. After the first minute, when the bladder is emptied, it speeds up. The urethra widens to allow more fluid from the rest of the body to pass. After four minutes, it increases again. In both males and females, the urethra widens to almost the diameter of an erect penis, and the flow is like water from a hose. This change probably caught Brenda by surprise, and she probably struggled to get off at that point, but maybe slipped on the fluid that leaked out, and her struggle only resulted in getting me stuck deeper into her.
It is also at this point that the old body starts to noticeably lose mass, the limbs shrinking first, and then the torso. Inevitably the person loses consciousness around five to six minutes after the start of the process. By eight minutes in, the body is child-sized; by eleven minutes, infant-sized, and the flow begins to slow, but still continues at the rate after the second minute until near the very end, when there’s literally nothing but a shrinking kidney and urethra converting itself to stem cells. Brenda would have been dead already, but in the final minute, what was left of me would have been entirely inside her, continuing to convert my remaining cells to stem cells until I was all gone.
The video isn’t over at this point, as we also see the new body form. Some part of the mass which is most open to the air forms a head first, and almost immediately afterward the lungs and the rib cage form, even if they are constricted and have to form at a reduced size. The stem cells can grow the undersized organs later. There were known cases where the body took over 6 hours to form and still came out right; deaths during change occurred only in people stuck in constricted positions for 8 hours. About 2 or 3 minutes after the head and lungs form, the body becomes conscious, even if incomplete.
One of the questions a lot of people asked was “where does the extra mass go/come from,” as people think women inherently weigh less than men. But this is a misconception, based on the late 20th century ideals of skinny women and muscular men. In fact, if not for different body goals, women only weigh a little less than men on average, and that because they average a little shorter. Pee Body Syndrome sufferers actually weigh the same as male and female. The female body appears smaller, but while the body is slenderer in general, the hips are wider, the bust is larger, and the legs are longer. A very detailed study was done on this, showing that in the long term, a sufferer’s female body has the same volume and mass as his male body. There are changes when it first starts. Those who started out obese lost weight with each change, and tended to reach an average body size after 20 to 40 changes. Those who started very small tended to gain mass, faster or slower depending on how much they ate. And those who started at puberty tend toward an average body size for their age and grow into full size as they age. Or at least they seemed to over the almost two years since this started.
There is usually a small amount of cell mass which doesn’t manage to join up with the body and it dies after a while. In studies, the body turned out OK even if over 20% of the cell mass was lost, and this was again built back by eating more. In such cases the person finds themselves hungrier until the mass is made up. These studies mostly used real-world occurrences, rather than experiments, because there were a small number of us and few if any willing to engage in experiments which might result in their death.
This agreed with my experience. I lost about 5 pounds of my cell mass during the incident with Brenda, but I have already made that up.
I applied today for the counseling sessions. They only do business hours, so I’m going to have a work-from-home day each week with a break for my session. Work was understanding, especially with my explanation that they would have tried Brenda for rape if she had lived.
Four months now of counseling every Tuesday morning. I guess I knew it wasn’t going to be quick or easy. I’m really tormented by the thought that another woman would try to do the same thing - even though the story, without my name attached, has been circulated widely in news about the syndrome. This was not the first serious crime perpetrated on a changer, nor was I the first one targeted, but I was the only one ever targeted to try to get at the stem cells. The only one ever targeted by somebody who thought they needed stem cells for something without learning enough about stem cells to know they had to be from your own or a closely related person’s cells or they would just be rejected, or themselves reject the body they were in.
The first part of the counseling focused on understanding what my worries were. The situation was complex and there were many aspects that could come into play, but this worry that it could happen again seemed the strongest. So my therapy involved seeing how the knowledge about this incident had become widespread and it was now understood by the general population that trying to take a changer inside yourself while they were becoming stem cells was suicide.
The second anniversary of the change starting also passed recently. Kids are still turning into changers as they reach puberty at a rate of about one every two weeks. No other unexpected changes have happened. Well, there was one recent report. Apparently it had happened two times before but they kept it secret, but they were unable to keep this one secret. A changer was cut in half while in stem cell form, and each half formed a child-sized (but sexually mature) body. Two independent bodies, both with the memories of the person they started as. Potentially, they could have eaten double and maintained their separate selves and grown up to full size, but instead they turned to goo together in a tub and became one again, a single being with memories from both the separate bodies she had one day.
This prompted a dozen others to arrange setups where they could split on purpose, and a variety of other experimentation. Some of them stayed split on purpose, growing both bodies to full size, which introduced interesting legal issues. Two pairs stayed split and limited their consumption to stay child-sized, but varied their change times so that after a week they were out of phase with one another, both pairs rejoining while one was female and one was male, just to see how they turned out. Interestingly, one of the rejoined bodies came out male, one female, so more experiments of this sort are being planned to try to understand what principle governs the sex which dominates in such a case.
Now nine months into counseling. I am not up to dating again yet, but at least my stomach no longer turns at the thought of being alone with a romantic partner.
The splitting has gotten crazy. At least 10% of the original switchers have turned themselves into two full-size copies, typically sending one to work and having the other do chores around the house. Some of them are merging into a mega-sized body once every week or two and then splitting again, to share their memories. The others are typically getting the two bodies out of phase with each other, so that there’s always one male and one female. They don’t share memories in this case, so they still send the same person (half the time male and half female) to work each day. Nobody talks about it, but I think everybody assumes these bodies are having sex. Effectively marrying themselves. I thought about this. There are definitely some advantages, but it would not provide a solution to having kids.
Speaking of which, the legal system decided that because these bodies can always merge and become one again, switchers who split themselves are still legally considered one person, even if they choose to stay apart from one another. This settled some legal issues while opening up new ones. One splitter had sued the government over not having been allowed to have both his bodies vote in the elections last November. This was decided in favor of the government; splitters cannot get extra votes by making extra bodies, and likewise not extra government benefits. If they live apart, they have to pick one legal residence, in the same way that celebrities and some politicians have multiple homes, but one of them is their official residence where they vote, pay taxes, etc. But if one of multiple bodies of a splitter commits a crime, do they all go to jail?
About a dozen switchers are working directly with scientists by splitting. That is, they split, one body goes on living and eats to get back to full size, and the other engages in risky experiments that may kill the body. We don’t know all the experiments they have tried, but they include mixing two half-size bodies’ stem cells together. They refused to mix. In the same way that dirt on the floor doesn’t become part of our bodies and contents from the old body we can’t use crystallizes out into small masses, if your cells get mixed with somebody else’s, they self-separate.
From these experiments, they found that it takes about 45 pounds of stem cells to make a mass that will form a body. This makes one the size of a 6-year-old, but sexually mature, so we were advised to avoid doing this. The half-mass bodies are about the size of an 10- to 12-year-old, and much less disturbing to others. With smaller amounts, the cells start to differentiate but don’t actually go so far as to form organs. They mixed together two bodies from the same person that were in this state and the cells quickly joined with the other like-differentiated cells and completed forming the somewhat below-standard-sized body in only three minutes.
Another of the experiments they told us about was to see how large a person they could make. They had someone reproduce themselves several times and grew all the bodies to full size, then dumped all but one of them together at one change. The largest body they managed to make was about 8 and a half feet tall and 550 pounds. Beyond that, the cells will form one body of this giant stature and if the remaining cells are enough to make another body, they will do so immediately afterward. They thought this said something about how the stem cell mass figures out how much of it there is. In some way, it knows there is “enough” or “too much” to form a body, and it knows how much there is and makes the body of a size to match.
Obviously it’s possible for a human being to be smaller than that; we start out much smaller when we are born. But the stem cells are set into a mode of making an adult body, and preserving all the memories and such, and it makes sense that the minimum size is larger than an infant. Likewise, I can also imagine the problems such a huge body would have. Does it have enough strength to support its own weight? Can the heart pump blood around the whole body? Somehow it figures that is the limit and doesn’t go any larger.
A little more than a year of counseling now, and I can at least log onto the dating site and look at my matches. But I had second thoughts about the splitting thing.
If I split myself and shift so one is male and one female at any time, we could take turns changing. I’d have one body unchanged to make sure my date isn’t doing anything inappropriate while the other is changing. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself through the counseling that it’s extremely unlikely to occur again, this would give me confidence that I have the ability to prevent it.
I would need to figure out if just one of me is dating her or if we both are. Both cases are weird in different ways, but it’s probably less weird if both of us are, not to mention that I wouldn’t have to do anything special for one of me to be “watching” my date while the other of me is changing. Ideally, then, I’d be looking for female bi poly dates. And, yes, I’m limiting myself again, but hopefully they’ll be very good matches when I find one. But if that doesn’t work out, I’d always have one body of whatever my date wants and we could date her alternately.
I brought this up with my counselor the next two weeks and she agreed that if splitting will make me feel better, even if it restricts my choices, it was better for me to do it. So I started making plans.
To do the actual split, I needed some way to split the liquid evenly. And it turns out that is a hard thing to do, especially considering I am going to be unconscious during more than half the flow. I did find a place where people were discussing splitting online, and they described two basic ways of doing it: The overflow method and the distributor method.
The overflow method was the easier to set up, but you needed to figure out your volume as stem cells. The stem cell mixture was known to weigh about 5% more than water, so while a gallon of water weighs 8 pounds, a gallon of stem cells weighs about 8.4 pounds. A typical person weighing 150 pounds then has a volume of 17.86 gallons as stem cells and wants to split into two parts each taking up 8.93 gallons. To do it, you’d buy a ten gallon bucket from a hardware store (the five gallon bucket is more common, but the ten gallon one is available if you look around, or online), measure out precisely the volume you need of water into the bucket, and then add stones or other heavy items until the water reaches the brim. Then you’d put this in your tub, sit on top of it inside the tub, and pee into it. Eventually, once your body starts to collapse, you’ll fall into the bucket and splash some of the cells out. but the part of your body inside the bucket would pee itself out inside the bucket and it would work. And if the parts weren’t exactly the same size, it doesn’t matter; they only need to be close, as most people let their bodies gradually grow back to normal size.
The distributor method is more complicated but works without knowing your volume. You need something like a large funnel with two outlets. The suggestion was taking something like the five gallon bucket and epoxying two identical plastic funnels to the bottom, making sure they are sealed all the way around the top, and cutting holes in the bottom of the bucket into each funnel. Then you’d mount this so the two funnels lead to different places, such as inside the bathtub and on the floor. And then you’d pee in the bucket. At first, it would flow out as quickly as you filled it, and at that point you’d make sure you were peeing equally into both holes. Later, the bucket would start to fill up as you are filling it faster than the liquid can flow out, and pressure would keep the liquid distributing evenly. Again, you would test it with water to ensure it distributes equally.
I decided the less complicated setup was worth the effort of having to measure my volume. I weigh - I just checked - 158 pounds today, which is about 18.8 gallons, or 9.4 gallons for half of me, so I need a little over half a gallon of stones. I knew how much that is, roughly, from the milk cartons, so I brought in a couple large stones from the yard and several small ones, and washed them off.
Next I needed to plan when I was going to do this, how I was going to manage work while I was regrowing myself, acquiring food - because small me would have a hard time driving! And clothes. I could wear oversized shirts like dresses, which might work for casual stuff but would be weird in the office. I’d need smaller pants under it or just go commando until I could wear my usual ones.
Work turned out to be easy. They told me to take two weeks of work-from-home while I get back to my usual size. So no major issues with clothes.
For food, I decided I was going to stock up. Maybe Friday night I could do a big food purchase, and Saturday morning do my initial split. Further research suggests It doesn’t matter what I eat, as long as human bodies can digest it. Carbs and fats help bulk up best; some proteins are needed but did not have to be the emphasis. So I put on my shopping list large bags of pasta and rice, several loaves of bread, bags of potatoes, way more cereal than I’d normally eat, gallons of whole milk, creamy dressings, etc. I was going to be buying for two of me, and those were each going to need to eat double to restore mass, so the quantities are what I would normally eat in a month. A week later when my supplies were running low, the two of me would be big enough to drive and I could go do it again.
I also should get a stepladder. I sometimes stood on chairs to reach high things in my house and I knew I should have one of those short folding ladders that let you get two feet off the floor to reach those things. With this I was going to be perhaps a foot shorter with no adult-sized person around and likely have even more trouble reaching things. So I made a stop coming home from work to get one of those tonight, along with the bucket.
It turned out, when I measured the one I picked up on the way home from work tonight, that these “ten gallon” buckets are actually a bit over that. They would hold ten gallons - but the measurement to the brim was a bit more. So I needed one more large stone from the yard to make it work. But at the end of the night I had a bucket with the right amount of stones in it, and I put the remaining stones back outside.
On the way home from work, I stopped at Wal-Mart and picked up a package of men’s briefs in small size and panties two sizes smaller than what my female self usually wore. I didn’t feel right going commando for two weeks, especially with two of my bodies, and I figured these would be close enough until I grew large enough to wear my usual underwear. I added a couple small sports bras for the same reason. I didn’t buy any other clothes. During the time we were mostly staying at home, I’d improvise from among my male and female inventories. Once we were back to full size, my two selves would share my male and female clothes. I might need more of them, but I could easily go buy them when I figured that out.
After that I went grocery shopping with my special shopping list and filled up my trunk with food. I had to improvise on some of the storage, but I found room. Clearly, I was not used to keeping food here for a family of four adults, because that was really all this was.
I put the bucket with its rocks in the tub before bed and put the plug in the tub. Might as well make it as easy as possible in the morning.
I got up, ready to change as usual - except I remembered today was going to be nothing like usual. I sat on the bucket with my penis aimed inside, and let loose. It went as normal, except that my pee was filling up the bucket rather than the tub. I felt my limbs start to shrink and I think I felt the splash as my torso fell into the bucket just before I lost consciousness.
Soon, I awoke, a head, arms, and torso in the bucket, and I lifted myself out so my legs could form. Another me was lying curled up at the drain end of the tub, already fully formed. She started waking up about the time I was able to get standing outside the tub. We dumped out the rocks, and took a shower together - just showering! Well, we washed the bucket and the rocks too, since they had my cell residue all over them.
We got out, dried off, and put on the small sports bras (definitely needed), small panties, and we each wore one of my short dresses, which on us was cocktail-length. We were pleased to find that the sports bras and panties fit decently well. The sizing had to be a guess, but almost three years of living half time as a woman had taught me something about sizes. We let the rocks and the bucket dry while we went about our day. We intended to keep them. If we ever had to split again, we’d have them available.
The next order of business was breakfast. We were eating our normal breakfast - raisin bran with milk - today, except I put the milk jug and cereal box on the table in addition to our initial serving. The cereal box was new yesterday - the small size box I typically ate - but we were going to eat it 4 times as fast. That meant we’d finish the box today. The other boxes I bought were family size boxes, each as big as one and a half of the small ones. I’d finish one of those in two days.
“Okay, who’s who?” my twin asked.
“Flip for it?”
“Sure. You find a coin and flip.”
When I had the coin ready, my twin called, “Heads, you work and I stay home, tails, I work and you stay home.”
The coin came up heads.
“Looks like I get to go to work.”
We worked out a plan. I would work, but my twin would do the chores around the house, and cook meals. I’d still do the grocery shopping or any other needed quick outings on the way home from work, but she’d do any other shopping needed on weekends. The shopping trip we would do next weekend we’d do together. Also, I’d maintain the usual change schedule, which meant I’d start work Monday female (though it was work from home). She’d change before bed tonight, mid-day tomorrow, and in the morning just after me each additional day to establish the different sexes.
Also, while we would both be Clint to the outside world, we decided to take new names just for referring to each other. I was Kelly, and she’d be Stacy. Both names that could apply to men or women, of course. It would still be many years before we knew if the kids of switchers were all switchers, or even more frequently were, but they were naming all their kids with such names, including Michael, Dana, Pat, and Robin.
At lunch we each had a sandwich one of me would normally eat for lunch, and also a big bowl of pasta with alfredo sauce. Dinner was Chinese-style, each of us with a big plate of rice and assorted chopped up meat and veggies in it, covered in some sort of sauce Stacy improvised. We needed a while before we could eat a double bowl of ice cream each for dessert.
Stacy changed male before bed, and I waited for him there. I only had the one full-size bed, so I knew we’d both sleep there; at least at our small size, there was plenty of room. I’d slept with dates here before; there was room for two people who were intimate. And who could be more intimate than my other self?
At no point before I split had I decided my selves were going to have sex, nor after the split did we discuss it. But when Stacy got to the bed, he was naked, and simply asked, “Sex?”
And I replied, “Yes.”
So I got to be the first of us to find out what it feels like for a woman to have sex with a man's real penis. Even though we were small, our sexual parts were full-size - or only scaled down by the same degree as everything else, at worst. The penis was way bigger than I had at 11, and I didn’t have female parts to know, but I was pretty sure an 11-year-old girl was not developed like this between the legs. And it was wonderful.
I changed male in the morning, and Stacy had the cereal and milk ready for us once I was dressed.
As we ate, I commented, “Remember, Stacy, we’re not going to fuck every day. After we get back to full size we’re going to go looking for a nice bi girl who’ll take us both.”
“Of course. But we can fuck sometimes.”
“Definitely.”
As Sunday was laundry day, and laundry was now one of Stacy’s chores, she gathered up all the worn clothes and washed them starting immediately after breakfast.
Stacy changed female after lunch, and again came out naked and invited sex. Naturally, she deserved her turn to feel my penis inside her. Unsurprisingly, she seemed to enjoy it as much as I did the sex the night before.
Only for a little while, though. I had to go adjust my work-from-home area to fit my smaller body - something I was going to have to update every couple days until I got back to my normal size - and Stacy had more housework that needed doing.
We had sex in bed again at the end of the day.
We changed in sequence today, as agreed, me first. Stacy had the cereal, milk, bowls, and spoons set out when I came out and she went in to change, and I started eating while she was becoming male.
Then female me sat at my newly adjusted workstation at home, while male Stacy did other chores, made meals, and kept up on the latest developments with switchers in the news.
The rest of the week went similarly, with Stacy collecting and washing our underwear and some other clothes to make a load every second day because we had bought so few of the small ones. By today, Saturday, those small ones were getting tight and we both switched to our adult clothes, which were slightly too big, but we could make them work.
Also, we had eaten most of the food I bought 8 days ago and a shopping trip was needed. I drove. With the seat pulled all the way forward I could reach the pedals and see over the dashboard. With Stacy helping to watch for traffic, I made it to the store.
We were about the size of a 14-year-old today, not quite fully grown but a lot closer than when we started. It would take us until next Saturday to finish growing, and Sunday we’d be back to normal meals. So we were buying 8 days of quadruple meals again, and the stuff I bought last time worked, so we bought the same stuff again, or as close as we could based on what was available. Being smaller made it more difficult to lift some heavy items, but I pushed the cart and managed the list and Stacy grabbed items from the shelves, except when we were buying heavy items or large amounts in one place, when I helped load the cart as well. And we both helped unload at home, of course.
It wasn’t long after we got everything put away that it was time for lunch. We both relaxed a bit afterward. I shared with Stacy what was happening at work, and Stacy shared with me what was happening with switchers. And there was an interesting development. The new thing some long-term splitters were doing was called mix-and-split. Both members of a split pair deposited their stem cells in the same pool, but using a splitter to divide the results into two new bodies. This resulted in no or very little size change that was easily managed after a day, but they’d share their memories. This was interesting - if we did this, we wouldn’t need these info dumps, nor would we feel permanently tied to these roles. We’d both remember working my job as Kelly and housework and research as Stacy.
I noted, “We would need a bigger splitting tub. We’d be trying to make two portions of 18.8 gallons each.”
Stacy commented, “Yes, they used trash cans. They come in 23 gallon size, so we’ll need to put a lot in the bottom.”Wait, how big is the whole bathtub?”
I looked it up online. “A standard bathtub holds about 40 gallons. Since the top of the trash can would be taller than the top of the tub, it would not take up the whole 23 gallons of tub space, so it should work.”
“I think it would be a good idea to do at some point.”
“Yeah. I think down the road, it will keep us from building up enmity. You can’t be mad at something I did long ago when you did the thing too. You might feel like doing all the housework is the short end of the stick, or I might feel like making the money for us is the short end. But we’ll come together at these times and have both sets of memories.”
Stacy added, “Not to mention that should one of us die somehow, the other will be able to go on and make both of us again. If we don’t do this, we’ll lose one of our entire memories.”
“So maybe once a month or so we could do this, you think?”
“Yeah. The reason I brought that up is there’s another story that got some media attention with the headline, ‘Are Pee Body Switchers Immortal?’”
“I know Betteridge’s law of headlines says no, but tell me about it.”
“We can die if our stem cells get stuck somewhere where they can’t reach the open air enough to form a head. It can happen in as little as 18 inches of water, or if we fall into a tight space. Also, if we get split into pieces all too small to form a body. This happened to about 40 of us the first day, mostly by getting flushed by automatic-flush systems.”
“Good thing we stopped using the toilet after the first day.”
“I think almost everybody did as soon as it was clear that wasn’t really pee. There was a side-story about toilets, but I’ll get to it later. Another 2 died this way later, and 10 others have died in various kinds of accidents or been murdered. Several others have survived potentially fatal accidents by starting a change on the spot. It heals all wounds. But the big thing is, none of us have died of other causes. There are about 1800 of us spread over all ages, and you would expect in 3 years for 3-4% of them to die of the diseases associated with old age. They think our stem cells prevent aging, and in older people reverse it a bit.”
“I think I remember hearing something about stem cells reversing aging even before we started changing, but tell me the news.”
“Scientists think the telomeres of our chromosomes - portions at the end that don’t code any active genes - are buffers for aging. When our cells reproduce, they sometimes don’t quite copy the DNA strands all the way to the end, and as a result the telomeres get shorter. When the telomeres are completely gone, we start losing active genes. This doesn’t happen to all the cells at the same time, but errors accumulate. When we are in our stem cell mass, before we form new bodies, the stem cells repair the telomeres. Now that we are almost 3 years in, 80-year-olds who started changing when we did have the telomeres of a 50-year-old and 50-year-olds have the telomeres of a 25-year-old due to the cells with shortened telomeres being fixed.”
“So if we repair our telomeres every day, we won’t age.”
“Or we will age very slowly. And they think it’s possible that the stem cell mass repairs even lost real genes, as long as some of the cells still have them to copy from, but that one’s going to take a lot more effort to confirm. Some people reacted to that with sensationalist responses. ‘if we keep producing new switchers, are we going to take over the world eventually due to never dying?’ There was also worry about splitters, who could potentially double their numbers every two weeks, quickly overtaking the world.”
“If they could find enough food,” I laughed!
“Yeah, most people dismissed it as unwarranted hysteria. We still get a new switcher appear at puberty about once every two weeks as well, but 26 more a year is going not going to take over the world in thousands of years. And apart from a few scientific experiments, the most bodies one splitter has made at one time is three. We could, given sufficient food, make a million of ourselves in a year, and overwhelm the human race in two years, but the sufficient food thing is an insurmountable obstacle. If all the children of switchers are also switchers, it could happen faster, but we’re still talking centuries. It won’t happen within the lifetimes of anybody alive today, except the eternal switchers.”
“That seems like a good summary and rebuttal to those people. So tell me the toilet story.”
“You know how flushing toilets work, right?”
“The drain goes up again beyond the bowl before it goes down, and pressure maintains equal height in the bowl and on the other side. When you put a bunch of water in at once, that pressure has to equalize. The water rises past the peak of the drain, and then falls with gravity, but the pipe is full and there’s no air between this falling water and what’s in the tank, so it pulls the rest of the water with it. That’s why it makes that sucking sound. I think.”
“That’s pretty much right. It’s called the siphon effect. The essence of the story is that our stem cell mass is heavier than water and goes to the bottom. This means that when we start peeing ourselves into a toilet, our cells fill the U-bend before there is enough added to make the toilet flush by pressure alone. And our stem cell mass likes to stick together, though within the mass those cells flow around. What happens, then, is that part of us oozes slowly down the drain, sticking together even against the effect of gravity. Effectively, we clog the toilet. Some toilets have an automatic flush on a sensor. If this activates before we have clogged the toilet, the water flow overwhelms our cells’ ability to stick together and we get flushed away and broken into little bits by the flush action. Even if enough of us is in one place down in the sewer, we won’t have air and we die.”
“A little gory, but worth knowing how it works.”
“It gets gorier. They studied what happens to trapped stem cell masses. If there is room to make a head and lungs with access to air, they can survive most of a day without fully forming. But if not, they have enough energy to survive a couple hours. After that, they continue to survive by cannibalizing other cells. The smaller mass survives, gradually dwindling. After about 8 hours, there isn’t enough of the cell mass left to form a body even if it gets free, and after about 11 hours it dwindles away to nothing. This was all done with split bodies donated to science, and not counted in any of those statistics - these people lived on through other bodies.”
“OK, that’s enough. I agree, we should look into doing this mix-and-split once a month or so. Does it guarantee we keep our genders?”
“Nope. You remember that when they experimented with mixing opposite sex copies together the results were random. In the mix-and-split case starting with opposite genders, about 80% of the time opposite genders came out, but sometimes they came out the same.”
“So sometimes, one of us will have to do a couple quick changes to get back to opposite genders.”
Stacy responded, “Oh, yeah, we should definitely do that.”
“Is that going to mess with our sex schedule?”
Yeah, it had already become a schedule. We’d had sex every day since the first split.
“I don’t think so. Remember how we had sex our first weekend? We came out the same Saturday morning, but I changed before bed and we were different genders then. You changed in the morning and I changed after lunch and we were different genders all evening. And then we both changed in the morning together.”
“Right. When you feel like you want to mix and split with me, just tell me, or if I feel like it’s time, I’ll say so, and we can get the stuff before that and be ready for some Saturday morning.”
The second week of regrowth was uneventful. We were almost back to full size and wearing all normal clothes now. In fact, we were closer than expected. The scales this morning showed 157 for me and 156 for Stacy, so I only ate double breakfast and Stacy only double breakfast and lunch today. In the afternoon, Stacy and I went out shopping, buying food more like we normally ate, and in double the usual quantity instead of four times. We also managed to pick up the tall, square trash can which was one of several 23-gallon styles available at Home Depot. (The next smaller size was 18 gallons. That might have worked, but it also might have ended up making us several pounds lopsided, and with no easy way of checking whether it was really 18 gallons or 18.8 or 19+ when filled to the brim without buying it, we opted for the larger one.)
We put the stones in the trash can (remembering we will need to add more later) and put our small sized underwear in the 10-gallon bucket and stored it away in the attic.
It was back to the office for female me, full sized and looking no different to my co-workers. Only a couple of them knew male me was staying at home. Nobody needed to know I was fucking my other self and only my boss and those I worked most closely with needed to know I had a second self at all, in order to justify the time working from home. A couple people today asked me about my absence and I just told them I had some issues related to the syndrome.
We agreed this week it was time to try a mix-and-split, so last night we weighed ourselves - matching weights of 158 for both - and we set up the trash can with a few bricks and other stones. So this morning, 5 weeks from when we first split, we climbed atop the trash can at the high end of the bathtub, sitting on opposite corners, me peeing from my girl parts and Stacy from his penis, both of us mixing our stem cells in the large can.
The idea of sitting there, two people peeing into the same bucket, was pretty weird. It wasn’t a thing I would have expected to do even with my girlfriend. Even the people into watersports were more for peeing on each other rather than in a bucket together. It only made sense for the thing we were doing today, along with the fact it wasn’t really pee, even though it looked like it, until the flow got absurdly strong.
Once we had shrunk down a bit, we changed our positions to dangle our shrunken legs inside the bucket, holding ourselves up with our arms until they got too small and weak to do that, and we both plunged in just as we lost consciousness.
The next I knew, I awoke in an uncomfortable position with my legs tucked up tight beside me inside the can. Other me was waking up outside the can. I was female, and the me in the tub was male.
“I’m female, so that makes me Stacy, and you’re Kelly,” I told my other self.
“Right, we agreed that if we came out different sexes, we’d stick with it and whoever came out male today would be Kelly and go to the office. I actually feel more like Stacy, for some reason. Those memories are stronger in my mind, but I can also remember your work in the office and what you have been working on recently. Also the new password you had to pick last week.”
“Yeah, the office memories are stronger in my mind, but I don’t think we should change our plan because of it. I can do the housework the next month.”
After we got showered and the residue washed off the bucket and stones, we dressed, and I, as Stacy, immediately assumed the meal prep duties. Which, it being breakfast, just meant pouring milk and cereal for each of us, providing spoons, and bringing them to the table.
We spent a while discussing things that were easier now that we both had the memories of them. Also once in a while we confirmed things the other was expected to do. Not once was there any actual confusion, though,
In the evening, Kelly fucked me with his penis. I remembered our sex the previous night, during which, as I remembered it most strongly, Stacy fucked me with his penis. But I could also remember that sex from the male side. Thinking about those memories together, being able to remember both sides of the same experience, was pretty damned hot!
Kelly might have thought he got the short end of this deal, missing a turn to have sex as female, because we both experienced better sex from the female side. As far as working my job instead of doing housework, I am not sure how Kelly would think of it, but this worked well. The point of this experiment was to make sure we both experience both roles, and if the person who remembered it less was doing each role now, that was a positive thing for both of us in this experiment.
Being Stacy meant I got to go do shopping. While some stores were closed for Independence Day, most were open, and it didn’t interfere with my shopping. While I remembered Stacy’s shopping trips, it felt like it wasn’t me. So it felt like the first time I had gone shopping in a few weeks. But I had no problem putting together a shopping list and then going to fill it.
I was male Stacy today, and since it was Sunday, that meant laundry. Of course I knew how to do that. I did it for many years before I started changing, and then almost three years as a single-bodied changer who had to do everything around the house. It was only a month that the other me did it exclusively. The only difference was there was twice as much to wash now.
At least, with me and Kelly sharing clothes, I didn’t have to worry about getting stuff mixed up the way, for instance, two sisters might. I wasn’t too likely to mix up the male and female clothes, and even if I did, they were all “mine” anyway. If either of us found something in the wrong dresser or closet, we were both familiar with where all the clothes belonged and could move it.
We planned our next mix-and-split today. I was starting as male Stacy. It was still just as weird being face to face with my other self, just peeing ourselves away into that trash can. It was even weirder when Kelly started kissing me.
This time we came out both male, so we flipped for it, and I (at least, the one of me who more identified with the memories the most recent Stacy had had) stayed Stacy per the flip. That meant I was supposed to be female, and had to do the two quick swaps tonight and tomorrow afternoon to restore our gender situation.
Interestingly, though the most recent memories, those of being Stacy since the first mix-and-split, were stronger in my head than Kelly’s memories from this time, the memories from the earliest split time now seemed of equal strength. I could no longer say I was definitively the first Kelly as opposed to the first Stacy, except that second Stacy had felt like first Kelly in that earlier period.
Today, just three days short of the third anniversary of change day, we heard a report on another scientific breakthrough related to changers. They found a method of preventing the forced change long enough to allow pregnancy to occur. It’s not pleasant - they basically put the patient into a drug-induced coma. Selective application of the drugs let them disable the change but keep the reproductive system running, and they brought them out of it when ovulation was detected. Two volunteers provided female selves to be treated this way. These female selves then had sex with their chosen males (not their other selves) frequently during the following 24 hours, and one managed to get pregnant, halting the change further, as expected. Pregnancy also opened up the anus and allowed the patient to urinate and defecate normally. The pregnancy has been going for two months now, and appears to be proceeding normally. The second patient repeated the procedure and recently succeeded in becoming pregnant during the third iteration of the procedure.
They commented in this article that they strongly recommend switchers do not have children with themselves using such a procedure. It would be the worst form of inbreeding. The problem with inbreeding is that it makes it far more likely to have two copies of the same gene, which is harmless for most genes, but there are a large number of genetic diseases caused by two copies of certain genes. For each such gene that you are a carrier of, meaning you have one copy, your child would have a 1/4 chance of having two copies and thus getting the disease.
I wasn’t really thinking about this when I set myself up as a splitter. The idea was more to have a body around that could please my partner, of whatever preference, all the time, and for me to get used to the idea of living that way. The only part this discovery changes is that if I end up with a male partner and I have to be the one to have kids, one of me can use this method to do so.
My recent thoughts got me to get back onto the dating site again. I updated my profile to explain I was now a splitter who kept male and female bodies around all the time, and I was looking for a woman who could love both of me and would bear my children. That was the original intent of my splitting and staying in opposite sexes, and I felt it was important to find somebody quickly so I didn’t get addicted to sex with my other self.
I was still going to the counseling, though only the one of me who was Stacy at the time went, which has been me for the last month. I wasn’t going to stop that until I had established a relationship with another woman and felt confident I could continue going through dates with her. Today, together with Kelly I looked at a few matches it suggested, but didn’t feel they were great matches. The fourth one that came up was named Brenda, and it wasn’t the same woman but the name gave us both a panic attack.
This confirmed I still needed the counseling. I need to be able to ignore what happened to me, make it history. That Brenda was dead due to her own stupidity, and I had to keep telling myself there was no reason to believe any other woman, just because she resembled Brenda or had the same first name, would act that way. There was even less reason to expect it than before, since the story was publicized. People knew now, much more than they did before, that in order for stem cells to help you at all, they needed to be your own or those of a full sibling, parent, or child. And people should already have known, but had another opportunity to learn, that all the stem cells from one switcher were too many for one person to take inside them by any means. If somebody stole from me, while I was switching, an amount of cells someone might actually use for something, assuming they even could, it would just make me come out a little smaller.
I spent some time watching the news stories that had been presented about the incident. One show even shared the grim result that would have occurred if she had tried to take my cells via her vagina. This was pretty gross and preceded by a content warning. [The content in this story runs to the next date header.] Her uterus would have swelled up like she was pregnant, but the uterus and skin cannot grow fast enough, so when she was stretched tight, the stem cells would have forced their way through her fallopian tubes, widening them into twin hoses, letting the stem cells run free in the internal spaces between the organs. She would have suffocated a few minutes after this, once the stem cells inside her didn’t leave enough room for her to take breaths.
But that was not the end of it. There were still stem cells flooding in, and they would have collapsed the lungs, ultimately inverting them and pushing them out of her body through the mouth, inflating them like balloons, and ultimately bursting them. There would have been stem cells flowing out through her mouth and the busted lungs, and other stem cells leaking from her vagina. Realistically, the result would probably have been very much the same as what actually happened to her, but the inversion of the lungs - a step that only happened after she was dead - made it seem more gruesome. And they said a woman had once committed suicide by sticking a garden hose up her vagina and turning it on full force, and much the same thing happened including the inversion and ultimate bursting of the lungs.
I had to stop at that point and the two of us played some games to take our mind off that.
It was mix-and-split day again. I started as female Stacy, and Kelly and I perched ourselves on opposite corners of our big bucket again. I had a funny thought I shared with Kelly: In old men’s rooms from the 1950s or earlier, they sometimes had a long trough that men peed into instead of the now-customary single urinals. No privacy shields; three or four men would stand in the space of two urinals and all pee into the same fixture. And there was constant a slow drip of water to clean it out. When I was a boy, I saw a couple of these before they all got modernized. Of course, Kelly had the same memory, but I brought it up because this process reminded me of it.
Actually, if we could have gotten one of those, it might have worked for us. It might be about the right size. We could straddle it at opposite ends, maybe even mount two toilet seats on it, which the person who formed inside could lift up to get out. But I’d have to find another place to put it; it’d be too much to lift that in and out of the tub. I’d have to make a permanent space just for our mix-and-splits. One of those large spa-like tubs might provide enough space. And I’d seal the drain permanently, or at least install one of those plugs in the drain where you flip the lever to close it.
As we were peeing ourselves out into this plastic trash can, we realized the idea had problems. We’d had to clean it out, because dust accumulated everywhere, in addition to the grime from our own bodies and the rejected crystalline junk. If the inner tub was permanently mounted into the outer one, it’d be hard to clean the outer one. Maybe if the toilet seats were mounted on the outside tub, but we put a long plastic one inside it we could remove for cleaning? Did they make a suitable tub? I thought about baby tubs, but I thought they’d be too small. Something to look up after the change was completed.
I came out female this time, and my other half came out male, so I was now Kelly again. My strongest memories were of being Stacy the last 5 weeks, and the ones before that were all mixed together. I’d been in counseling for two months straight, so it was good my other half was going to get the chance.
That night we started looking at matches again, but it was only a short while before Stacy begged me to stop, so I decided to wait until she had some counseling sessions.
I was Kelly two splits in a row (9 weeks), and then became Stacy the last five weeks, and during this session Kelly and I were both able to look at potential dates together. After looking through them for a week without officially turning our status to available, we did that, and after looking through them for another week, we decided on two to contact, and one of them wrote us back and we had our first date tonight.
Kira was enthused by our double nature.
“I love being double-penetrated, but it’s hard finding partners who are willing to share me.”
“We always keep one body male and one female.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. When I do find willing partners, it’s often straight couples looking for something different, and I provide a strap-on.”
This first date didn’t have sex; we agreed to a getting-to-know-each-other first date, and the one with sex would happen in two weeks. There was plenty of sexy talk, though. I was glad she had a house and not an apartment, because it meant it was a lot less likely someone would hear our very frank sexual discussion through the walls. We had non-sexy talk, though, too.
“Before all this happened a few years ago, I was a male programmer named Clint. I actually am still known as Clint to most of the world, regardless of whether they are seeing the male or female me, and at work I’m always Clint. Only the people there who needed to know it know that I’ve split. We use the Kelly and Stacy identities privately to sort out our two selves. Kelly is always the one taking the work role, and Stacy is the homemaker. We mix-and-split on a weekend once a month or so, so we aren’t stuck in those roles and eventually we’ll both remember everything that happens to either of us.”
I knew from her profile that Kira was a lawyer, and my one fear was that she was going to be too much of a domineering type, but then she described herself to me in a way that removed that fear entirely.
“I know what I want, but I do my dominating in the courtroom. Especially after a day in court, I want nothing more than a strong partner to take control. Preferably two partners, as I mentioned.”
We had this date at her place because she knew she had an office day today when we planned it and she could get out at a known time. Court days were different; she never knew if a court session was going to run until 2 or 7. As a result, we planned the date two weeks from now at my house, and if she had to she would drive there straight from the court.
I became Kelly again the day after our first date, so I was female today. I would be the first one of us to wear the strap-on.
Kira had called on her way out of the courthouse, telling us she would be here in 20 minutes, and it was almost exactly that when she arrived at 5:54. I was watching from a window while Kira took a small bag from the trunk and then came to the door.
We had agreed to keep it simple, and just order pizza since we would only know when she was going to be available 20 minutes before she could get here, and so no sooner had she gotten inside and kicked off her high heels than the doorbell rang again and it was the pizza. A single large pizza with breadsticks, Kira said any toppings but anchovies and so Stacy had ordered sausage and black olives.
So we sat down for a pizza and Coke dinner first, and when the last slice was eaten we started the sexy talk. I had to try some things out to see just how she actually wanted it, but it sounded like she wanted to be dominated, at least a little. So I started us off by asking, “Kira, are you ready to get fucked?”
“Am I ever!” Kira responded.
“No, you’re not! You need to get out of that fancy suit first!”
Kira didn’t argue, and immediately started stripping. I showed her where she could hang up the suit in the hall closet, while Stacy cleared off the dinner table. In a couple minutes, she was wearing nothing over her body briefer, one of the kinds of garments I’d had to learn about later in life when I first turned female. This was a one-piece women’s undergarment that combined a bra with a tight-fitting section around the waist and hips, meant to make the body look slimmer and to present a certain type of figure. In this case, I’m sure it was meant to give her the type of figure her suit was designed for. There were variations that went down over the thighs as well, but Kira was wearing one that looked more like panties at the bottom, just reaching the widest part of the hips at the sides, and with a lot of lace all over.
“Do you always wear such sexy lingerie under your business suit?” I asked her while Stacy and I stripped.
“Usually I wear a more conservative garment of this sort, but I knew I was coming here for sex afterward, so I wore this one today.”
I had never needed such a thing; the change always gave me a body I was comfortable with. But I had taken the time to learn about every kind of women’s garment just to make sure I didn’t ever end up looking stupid by not knowing something I should. So I wasn’t surprised at all when Kira unhooked her garment at the bottom and pulled down the panties she had under it.
We engaged in a bit of foreplay, and ultimately Kira’s body briefer came all the way off, leaving her completely nude. Kira called for a brief stop. She opened the Ziploc bag she brought in, which contained the strap-on, a small bottle of lube, and some condoms, and helped me put on the mock penis. After this, Stacy and I took control.
“Come on, Stacy, let’s get her up on the bed.”
I bent down and grabbed Kira’s legs, and Stacy understood and held Kira by her armpits so we could pick her up off the ground and carry her to our bed. And yes, the full size bed was a bit small for the three of us, but it worked. Stacy put on a condom and the provided lube and carefully worked his dick into Kira’s ass, while I didn’t need any lube on the dildo to get it into Kira’s now dripping-wet pussy. Once we established a rhythm, we really pounded Kira, but it seemed she loved it.
After about 15 minutes, Stacy came, and we took a break. I switched around and started fucking Kira’s ass. After he cleaned up, Stacy had Kira blow him to get him set up for her pussy, and then he put on a new condom and we were both in her again. Stacy held off a bit longer before coming this time, but when he finally did, we ended the session.
“Thanks, you two. That was really, really good,” Kira said.
“This was not the way I am used to treating a woman, but I found I was able to do it and enjoy it,” Stacy commented.
“The vibrator in that strap-on is pretty awesome, too,” I added.
“Ha ha! How many orgasms did you have?” Stacy asked me.
“Oh, I lost count even before I switched to Kira’s ass.”
“I think we have a winning team here,” Kira commented.
“Just one thing,” I interjected. “The sex is great, but you should know from our profile we are looking for someone to bear our children. At least one child. The switching every day keeps us from doing it. And I’m worried it would interfere with your career.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Being a lawyer is intense, but we have built-in breaks. After every 3 years of the kind of duty I am doing, we require all of our lawyers to take a year of light duty. Office work only, research for cases but not dealing with clients directly and no court time. Possibly mentoring new hires. Three other female lawyers at my firm have used these years to have kids. And while bearing a child comes with its own intensities, it worked for them to provide a break from the court duty.”
“Then I guess we keep doing this!” Stacy cheered.
Holiday events and work issues kept Kira from having another date with us for a month, and today was the first time she could do it. We’d asked about weekend dates, but Kira told us, “Bridge.”
At the start of this date, I asked for an explanation of the bridge.
“I’m a competitive bridge player. Been playing since college.”
“And you keep that up, with lawyering and all?”
“I have had to cancel tournament attendances more than once for a case, but usually I manage to be there for Steph.”
“Steph?”
“College roommate, she taught me bridge, and out of all the other players we played with there, when she started trying tournaments senior year, I was the one she wanted for a partner. She’s an accountant down in The City, and there are so many bridge clubs there, there’s usually a tournament every weekend. Sometimes we go to Philly, Boston, or somewhere else. There’s one in New Haven every year. It usually takes up my whole Saturday and then Sunday I have to get other stuff done.”
“So how long have you been playing bridge with her?”
“Counting the years we played in college, 11 years. She got her CPA while I was in law school, and there was a short time we weren’t playing, but we kept in touch, and when she got a job in The City, she asked if I was available to partner with her at a tournament her first Saturday there, and we’ve been doing it ever since.”
“Did you ever try her as a sex partner?”
“We did once in a while, like most of the girls did, but she wasn’t actually all that much into girls and she couldn’t really satisfy me.”
“Like most of the girls?”
“Oh, you were a guy in college. You didn’t know because of the gay taboo. But almost all the girls in college try some kind of sex with their roommates at least once, and half of them do it any weekend neither roommate has a date. At least at our college it was like that; I can’t guarantee it happens at every college, but I’ve seen no evidence to the contrary. It was less than that for us, and never since we graduated. She married a veterinarian. He doesn’t play bridge, but satisfies her sexually.”
“All right, dinner’s here. You tell me more about how all the girls in college are closet Lesbians while we eat.”
And she did... including the other 10 girls she had sex with while she was in college, sometimes two at once.
“You know,” Stacy commented, “You had sex with more girls in college than I did.”
Kira and I both laughed.
But pretty soon, we were done, Stacy cleaned off the table, Kira set me up with that awesome strap-on with a vibrator for me, and we were in bed in various positions for the greater part of an hour.
The day after our last date with Kira had been a mix-and-split day, but I stayed Kelly this time. Stacy went to counseling today, and explained how we are starting what seems like a successful relationship with Kira. They encouraged us to keep coming for a little while longer until we are sure of it, but I don’t imagine it will be much longer.
At my next mix-and-split I became Stacy, though it didn’t affect the dating at all. I’ve had a few more dates with Kira since that last one. This time, since she didn’t have bridge today to mess her up, I invited her to stay overnight.
She was curious, so we let her see us both change this morning, each time with the other of us standing beside Kira watching. After that, Kira started teaching us bridge, and called Steph that morning and invited her up to join us. After a couple hours of instruction and with Kelly and I having bidding cheat sheets to work from, we played a bit. We didn’t do well, but Kira told us we did OK for our first time, which probably just means we didn’t totally screw up.
I stayed Stacy after another split, and today at counseling, I told them I was ready to stop. Yesterday was the two-year anniversary of the day Brenda tried to steal me, kill me, or whatever she really thought she was doing, and that I could actually say that and not freak out about it was more evidence I didn’t need the counseling anymore. The fact that the time the service was covered by the state program was almost over was inconsequential. If I still needed it, I would pay for it.
In fact, Kelly and I have been talking about it, and we decided that on our next date with Kira, we’re going to propose to her. That date’s scheduled a week from Friday, ten days from now, and I’ll be female Stacy then, but to make it a little traditional (not that much about our relationship is traditional), male Kelly is going to propose to her. We’re going to get the ring this weekend.
This was the night of the next date. We did everything including sex first, and only then did Kelly pull out the ring. She pulled me alongside her, and asked Kira, “Will you marry us?”
“Oh, will I ever!” Kira exclaimed. “If you didn’t do this soon I was going to work on something myself!”
She hugged both of us, and we had a messy three-way kiss.
The rest of the evening we talked about all kinds of things, including where we were going to live and what our wedding would look like. My house and Kira’s were both a bit small for the three of us plus kids. But Kira’s had a big yard. Many of the houses in her neighborhood had been added on to over the years, as there was plenty of room, and she knew when she bought it that rather than consider it a “starter home” to move out of and into something bigger later, it was instead possible that she’d expand it into the house she wanted. We didn’t even need to go up to a second story. We could just build another row of rooms behind the existing house and expand the roof to cover it all.
As far as the wedding, we all agreed that both of me should be there. We were legally one person, and Kira was going to be having both of us, so it made sense for us to marry her together. Marriage for switchers and splitters had been among the weird legal issues that had gotten settled in the last year. Switchers could legally marry anyone of any gender, even where same-sex marriage hadn’t yet been made legal. Splitters were legally one person, no matter how many bodies they had, and they could marry one other person, and all the bodies were considered married to that person, even if the spouse only treated one body or the bodies of one gender as a husband or wife.
We sent Kira home before it got too late so we wouldn’t mess up her bridge game.
We didn’t waste time. We set our date and began making plans for our wedding. Each of our dates, in addition to dinner and sex, now involved figuring out a little of the plans. Today was the day we’d finally finished figuring it all out.
Some splitters had married by just having the opposite-sex member of the splitter pair participate in the ceremony, or in the case of two splitters marrying, one member from each pair, of opposite sexes. But other splitter weddings worked like we planned ours, where both members of the splitter pair participated, and you’d have two brides wearing bridal gowns, or two grooms in tuxes. The same thing happened at same-sex weddings, which had been a thing in some places since slightly before Pee Body Syndrome appeared, so it wasn’t unprecedented, except there wasn’t also usually one spouse of the other gender at those weddings.
We were trying to figure where in the sequence my female half would walk down the aisle. What we decided on, since I was going to have both a man and a woman on the right side which traditionally belonged to the groom, was that I would have both maids and groomsmen in my party. The sequence was flower girls, bridesmaids and groomsmen in pairs, groom and best man, and last the bride and her father. While we’d still do that, I’d have maids alternate with the groomsmen - so some bridesmaids would walk down the aisle with another woman. And my best man would walk at the end of that group, with the maid of honor; I would then follow with both of my bodies as a pair.
With that established, we needed to set the location. Neither of us were churchgoers, so we’d rent a wedding hall that wasn’t attached to a church. Neither of us had huge families, so it did not have to be big, but we’d invite many of our friends. We decided about 20 guests on each side was about right, so we rented a hall that could hold 50 and was available on our preferred date.
When we actually started figuring out members of the wedding party, we realized that both of us had small groups of close friends and family members who would be appropriate. Kira had already chosen Steph to be her maid of honor, or more properly matron of honor, as Steph was already married. Kira didn’t have any sisters - one brother - but she’d ask her unmarried female cousin to be a bridesmaid, and one of the other lawyers at her firm that she was close friends with. She was pretty sure she could also get one of the judges she had seen in court to marry us. She’d been in his chambers and seen his license as a marriage officiant and even photos of wedding ceremonies he’d performed, with him standing between the bride and groom as he was reading out the rites, not in his courtroom but in a wedding hall somewhere.
As for me, I had no siblings or cousins. So who? Maybe my boss could be my best man. Terry, the woman from my HR who helped me get my first set of female clothes, could be a bridesmaid. She would, probably more than anybody else at my company, appreciate the uniqueness of the ceremony. And my counselor. That did not work all that well - a best man and two maids! But I asked them, and my boss and Terry accepted, but the counselor could not make the date we had set. So I asked my father to stand in to balance out the party, and he agreed.
We’d also started plans on remodeling Kira’s house. I found it hard to believe a lawyer lived in such a tiny house, but she explained it this way:
“Several other lawyers in my office also bought houses here. They saw it as an opportunity. It’s close to the office and not a long drive to the local courts. The houses have big lots and zoning that permits expansion, and pretty much everybody buying here these days sees them as opportunities to build the house they want. And that was my idea, too. I just hadn’t made up my mind yet what I wanted to do!”
The small house had a living room at the front left, bathroom beside it and a bedroom at front right, a kitchen rear left with a dining room beside it and a second bedroom rear right. What we would do was add on a third row of rooms. Accessed through the dining room but running behind it and the bedrooms would be a master bedroom. The far right wall would have three walk-in closets with drawers at the back and rods to hang clothes on both sides. Left of the bedroom would be a bathroom for Kira and a “changing room” for me that had a large tub. I remembered the idea where my two selves could sit on toilet seats, peeing ourselves into the same mini-tub. We were really going to build that, but it was a custom thing we’d do later; we had found a suitable main tub. It would also act as a regular tub/shower. There would be a sink in there, but no toilet, as I didn’t need it. Finally, behind the kitchen there would be a passage about 6 feet wide to the back; this would lead to a new back door and the space along the wall would allow the washer and dryer, now located in the garage, to be brought into the main house, along with a couple closets for laundry stuff and random junk.
We figured the smallest size that would work for my changing room was 5 x 8 feet, so we made Kira’s bathroom the same size, but using a normal tub made enough room for a toilet to fit. That meant the bedroom was 16 feet deep, which was huge (but putting the bathrooms the other way, and making it only 10 feet deep, would not have left enough room). The three closets were each a bit over 5 feet wide, allowing 18 inches for hanging clothes on each side and over two feet of walking space, and we made them 6 feet deep, with the last 18 inches not having any hanging space so we had room to put drawers all the way across (and have room to open them). This left over 14 feet of width for the bedroom itself, which was plenty of space for a king-size bed, and bookcases, desks, and whatnot along the opposite wall. There was also a basement, but we weren’t going to extend it. The originally 24 by 32 foot house would be expanded to 40 by 32 feet. Still a modest house by lawyer standards! But limiting the changes this way also meant getting them done in a reasonable length of time.
Kira could continue to live in the front part of the house most of the time the construction crew was there, but for short periods during some of the messiest bits she’d stay with me. It was supposed to be finished a month before the wedding, but all kinds of things could delay it. I hoped that was enough time so it didn’t get delayed beyond the wedding date, but if it did, we’d deal with it.
Monday morning, and only notable because Kira’s construction crew was starting today. Phase 1 of our relationship was dating, phase 2 was the engagement and planning for the wedding, and today started phase 3, the construction of our future home. Phase 4 would of course be actually getting married and moving in together.
The house construction would also have phases: The first phase involved digging out the space for the foundation, ensuring there was space for plumbing, and by the end of the week pouring the foundation. It would set over the weekend, and in phase 2 next week they would start putting up the frame for the new outside of the house. By the end of that week they would have studs and plywood for the exterior in place. The next week the ceiling beams and the interior wall studs would go in. Phase 3, in the fourth week, was going to be the tricky part. That week, they had to tear off half the old roof and rebuild it. The house would not be insulated properly at that time, but it was in the summer, so it hopefully wouldn’t be bad. The plan was to have the new roof on by the end of the fifth week.
Phase 4 would work on the rest of the exterior, getting the entire exterior of the house done by the end of week 6. At some point during this, an electrician would install a new electrical box to replace the one which was on part of the exterior of the house that was being removed. The new one would have higher capacity to support the outlets for the new rooms and possible future expansion. The electricity would be off for a day during the switchover.
Phase 5 started the interior work. The old exterior wall where the new house joined the old needed to be ripped out. The interior side of that wall would mostly stay, but with the exterior part replaced with sheetrock like a normal interior wall. Wiring and plumbing had to be put in through these new walls, and sheetrock for the interior walls and ceiling. That should be done by the end of the 9th week.
Phase 6 was the more detailed interior work, constructing the closets and installing the bathroom fixtures, and finishing work on the connection to the rest of the house. They had to paint after that, and put in carpets, lighting and electrical outlets, and the like. If there weren’t any delays, it would be ready for us to start moving furniture into - the major pieces being the existing washer and dryer and a new king-sized bed - in week 16. That gave us five weeks before the wedding to get everything set up and potentially for me to move over there. Of course, there were lots of things that could cause delays.
With a storm coming tonight, and a tarp fastened down over where Kira’s roof was supposed to be, she chose not to stay there, and came to join me. She packed 2 days’ outfits in her car so she could sleep here tonight and tomorrow night if needed and go to work directly from here. No sex, though. She promised me good sex Friday night, but these first two nights she really just needed a place to sleep. And she bought dinner.
Kira stopped at her house after work and confirmed there was no storm damage, but then came here for a date. As far as the good sex she promised, she told us to try something new, but anything we wanted. I didn’t think there was anything that was going to help me enjoy sex more, and I couldn’t take anal like Kira did since I didn’t have an anus, so we fisted Kira. First in the pussy and then in the ass. She cursed a lot but thanked us for it in the end.
Of course it took longer than planned. It was now Friday of the 19th week, and the work was nearly finished. They were coming back Monday to deal with a few minor issues - there was a spot that didn’t get painted, and one outlet did not work. Kira took the weekend off from bridge to order furniture with me, and help me start packing (though the fact that I had two of me was nice - I’d make a third, but she wouldn’t be grown up in time to do any good). Kira had a guy coming over to move the washer and dryer inside this weekend as well. But tonight was just date night.
Last night, I went to Kira’s house for a combination date night and hardware installation party, and I stayed here this morning for a mix-and-split in the new place.
We obtained some brackets meant to allow a certain kind of toilet used in public restrooms to be mounted to the wall, rather than the floor. The way these were meant to be used, the plumbing for the toilet ran through the wall and this heavy-duty bracket provided the support to hold the toilet up and for the weight of the seat and the person sitting on it. The floor would be clear to allow mopping completely under the toilet in case people are messy, because ugh, public restrooms. It mounts across two studs in the wall.
Our changing tub was a 5-foot octagonal tub, 63 inches to the outer edge, and the bathroom was, in inside dimensions, 63 inches wide and 92 inches long, allowing for the space of the door. Studs were placed every 24 inches from the corner, which was an inch past the inside wall corner, so the first stud was centered 22 inches into the room, the second 46 inches, and the third 70 inches, so we used the second and third, meaning the center of the seats was at 58 inches. Since the inside of the tub extended from 30.5 to 90.5 inches from that wall, centered at 60.5, this made the seats be about 2.5 inches off from being centered within the tub, which was fine. It meant that during mix-and-splits, outside-the-small-tub-me would form on the wider side of the small tub.
The actual installation wasn’t too hard. We had to pre-drill the holes for the bracket, since we were installing screws 1/4 inch in diameter into the studs. These screws were beyond the projecting part of the bracket where the seat mounted, so there was enough room to use a ratchet to tighten the large hex heads. The installation of the toilet seats again used the ratchet on these bolts, which screwed into the toilet seats themselves. There was barely enough room between the bracket and tub to fit the ratchet onto the bolts. If I was doing a normal change, I’d just use one seat, and the rest of the time keep both seats folded up, which allowed almost all the area of the tub to be used. The taps were on the far wall, which wasn’t the usual position but we’d requested this so we could use the sides this way. Kira’s tub, on the other side of this wall, was a conventional type running the length of the wall and had the taps at the end of the tub, on the wall toward the laundry room.
It wasn’t until four weeks ago we found the ideal inner tub, 12 inches high, 30 inches long, 16 inches wide, which would have been 25 gallons if perfectly square, but it was rounded a lot, so the inside was actually only 19.7 gallons, and we got some flat, smooth stones to put in the bottom to take up about a gallon of space for our splits. It wouldn’t actually work in a standard bathtub because it took up too much of the surface area of the tub. But it would work very well in the large tub. I had it already over at my place and had done the measuring, and brought it with me to Kira’s tonight along with the other parts.
And it did. We had the most enjoyable mix-and-split ever, the two of us sitting on seats that were meant to pee from, instead of the edge of a bin that was not even supposed to be a seat.
The three of us ate breakfast together, and then Kira went off to meet Steph for bridge while I (both of me) went home.
Today wasn’t a date night, even though it was Friday. After having Thanksgiving dinner together yesterday, we both had the day off today and I was fully moving my stuff into Kira’s house. The bed was there, the changing tub was there, the closets were there, and everything worked now.
We were making this easy on ourselves by not trying to move a lot of my furniture. We would include it with the sale of my house, which was going to more than pay for the work on Kira’s. While we did rent a U-Haul, we mostly loaded it with boxes of clothes, basically two whole wardrobes worth of clothes, and some personal items. We did load in a desk for my computer, one bookcase, and a nightstand. I’d gone through all my stuff with Kira’s help the last couple weeks and thrown out a lot of things I didn’t need anymore, including artifacts of my past life from before I started switching.
We listed the house a week and a half ago, when it was clear Kira’s house was almost ready, and so far only one person looked at it and didn’t make an offer. But we were hopeful it would sell quickly now that we could say it was ready for immediate move-in.
By the end of today, I felt like I was good and truly moved in here. I’d used my changing tub for two normal, separate changes for my bodies. All my clothes, both male and female, were hung or stashed in drawers, and because we’d made so much space for clothes each of the three of us had some space left over. Male me had half his space unused; that was clearly going to be where we stashed things that just needed to be put out of the way.
Kira was enjoying having Stacy (who was me, currently) around all the time to clean the place and make meals and such, but agreed she would do some of that work, since moving in here had increased both of those jobs by about 50%. But all three of us chipped in today with checking on arrangements for the wedding. The flowers were ready and would be delivered early tomorrow morning. The hall was ready. The food was ready for the reception afterward. I bet a lot of our guests appreciated us getting married in one of those all-in-one wedding halls where the reception is in the next room over from the chapel. And speaking of guests, all those arriving from out of town arrived (some of them yesterday and making a weekend of it). The ones who were in town were set as well. Everybody had their clothes ready to wear for the big day.
And we had sex this evening, after being too tired to do it yesterday. Our last sex before getting married!
Our wedding day was finally here. We had agreed to keep some of the many traditions associated with weddings and ignore others. Like the silly thing about the groom and bride not seeing each other before the wedding on wedding day. It was pretty much impossible anyway when she was sleeping between the two of me. We did, however, arrive separately at the wedding hall and did our preparations separately there.
As chance had it, I came out female at our mix-and-split the Saturday before yesterday, which meant I was female Stacy at our wedding too, the awkward third body in the marriage. But we all had our places and assigned roles.
The organist the wedding hall provided was running late, and they sent runners to both wedding parties and to the guests in the hall itself to let everybody know the ceremony was going to start about ten minutes late, and to time our entries into the chapel based on the start of the music. And once we got started it went off without a hitch.
Our officiant, one of Kira’s judges, ran the ceremony and naturally had to modify a few bits, but he did it well.
We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of these bodies, both belonging to Clint Jackson, and this woman, Kira Kellogg. ...
The ceremonial union of two people in marriage is as ancient as our very humanity, and yet every marriage is new and unique, with unique characteristics, such as one of the people having two bodies.
That got a laugh from the guests. The vows likewise needed to be modified:
We, Clint Jackson, take you, Kira Kellogg, to be our wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, ...
I, Kira Kellogg, take you, Clint Jackson, to be my spouse, ...
In same-sex marriages, they called each other both wives or both husbands, but since I was both, we’d ended up with that wording. Kelly and I spoke our vows in unison, using plural pronouns. I was legally one person, but grammatically two people.
And there were three rings. The jeweler we chose had served polygamous marriages before, as well as same-sex ones, and accepted that a wedding ring order might involve any number of men’s and women’s rings, so while we were still unusual, we weren’t unprecedented.
The pronouncement of husband and wife became simply a pronouncement that we were married, and the kiss was obvious too - each of me kissed Kira on one side.
We all marched over to the procession and had a great feast. And then we drove home, making sure we picked up all our wedding gifts, the clothes we arrived in but had switched out for our wedding clothes, and everything else we were supposed to take with us. Even a lost-and-found cell phone. It turned out to belong to one of Kira’s co-workers, whose wife called us looking for it around 8, and he came by and picked it up before we went to bed. In fact, just before we went to bed. Now properly married, we had a mad, passionate orgy starting around 9 and going until we passed out.
Kira and I weren’t much for travel - she mainly traveled to bridge tournaments, and only over 300 miles a few times a year, a distance which allowed her to treat trips to DC, Philly, and all of New England as local - so we had opted not to have a traditional honeymoon, but instead, we were gong to take every Monday off for the next month. Kira, who skipped bridge last Saturday, would do that with Steph every Saturday, while Sunday and Monday we would do other things with each other. There was one upcoming tournament that had a suitable beginners’ division where I, entering as Kelly and Stacy Jackson, planned to join them on Saturday as well.
With the larger size and the inner tub, it was possible for both of me to change at the same time. I didn’t think I would do that normally, except for mix-and-splits, but I tried it this morning just to show I could do it. We agreed male me (Stacy, this morning), with better aim, should have the tub mostly under him and aim into it, while female me could pee into the main tub. This went off without a hitch. We agreed it was good if we were in a hurry.
Today was my day for activities, and we were not going anywhere. It was going to be a video game marathon, with a great game from my childhood, Gauntlet. This was a quarter-sucker in the arcades - it was an epic long adventure, but a quarter bought only so much health, and your characters used it slowly all the time, as well as more quickly when fighting enemies. You could also pick up potions and food to heal you within the game, but only so much of it. On a home game system you could just hit continue any time you ran out of health or start to simulate adding a quarter when you were low. To keep people from running up crazy amounts of health, the game only let you buy up to three quarters worth of health at once, so it was still a thing, even though it didn’t cost actual money. As the male today, I played the warrior, and female Kelly played the Valkyrie. Kira chose the wizard.
“Wait, why an elf? Isn’t elf a race, rather than a class?” Kira asked when I offered her the choices.
“Well, yeah. I don’t know why they did that. One of the later games has a proper archer that the elf was cast as in the first game.”
And we played and played, through all the levels of the first game, which took all morning. After lunch we played other games.
“There are several more Gauntlet games which added in lots more stuff - more enemies, character classes, objects, and far more detailed maps. But I’m not going to make you play all of those - not that we could finish them today. I’ve got other games.”
At one point, I intentionally picked a two-player-only game for Kelly and Kira to play while I went shopping for food, taking requests from Kira.
I showed Kira Leisure Suit Larry after dinner. I mostly had her play it, with Kelly coaching her through it, while as male Stacy I mostly just repeated Larry’s sleazy jokes and touched Kira in ways that were only appropriate because we were lovers (and now married). This naturally led to us having sex afterwards.
It was back to work today, for Kelly and Kira. For me, it was my first time cleaning this new, larger house. There were still little bits of construction debris here and there, so I made vacuuming the whole house thoroughly a priority.
Kelly came home praising the new commute.
“Even though it’s more distance, there’s no traffic from here to the highway, and it isn’t bad on the highway here either, until you get over to that interchange near work. It’s just as bad going through the ramps there as trying to go straight through. Definitely going to be days I get off before the interchange and just take the surface roads the rest of the way.”
Kira said, “It’s because these small houses don’t interest the professionals who work over that way. They’re all interested in the larger, fancier houses in the West End. Your old place wasn’t part of that, but you were close enough to the West End that you got stuck in their traffic.”
“But it’s worth it, isn’t it? Buy a small house here, add on to it like we did, and you can set it up any way you want, and still cost less than one of those fancy houses.”
“The neighborhood doesn’t look as nice. But it will,” Kira prophesized. “Other people will figure it out, do what we did. We’ll lose the quick commute, but our property value will go way up. And if you look around the neighborhood, there are already a few expanded houses.”
She opened up Google Maps in satellite mode for this neighborhood. The map was only a few months old, so they had a picture of our house under construction. And while most of the houses in the neighborhood were the same small size - it looked like there were two designs alternating within this neighborhood, the other a little larger than this one, and mirrored on the other side of the street - about one in ten houses had some sort of expansion. One of them had done something crazy, expanding the house to within 5 feet of the fence on both sides and in back, and judging by the roof pattern, a partial second floor. They must have had 6000 square feet of living space in there.
“Most of these are probably people like me - young professionals who couldn’t afford one of those fancy houses on starting salary fresh out of college, who started saving up from their raises and eventually added more space. This one big one I am sure you noticed is one of the few exceptions. Like a whole clan lives there - four generations including the current kids in school, maybe 20 people in all. They’ve owned it since they first built this neighborhood and it was a normal sized house for just the original couple. The second generation bought the house next door and another one down the street, but after that, they just expanded the first house so they could keep living here with their families. They still own the house next door also, where the entire back yard is paved as a parking lot.”
“Thanks. I was wondering what was going on there.”
By my first Friday of marriage, I finally felt like I had everything clean of construction residue.
I’d also gotten the morning routine down. Kelly and I just had cereal for breakfast, and I set out the box, bowl, and milk for us and poured orange juice for Kira, started coffee, and worked on cooking her bacon and eggs while Kelly changed. When Kelly came out, I went in and changed, and Kelly started eating. I ate last.
I had also been helping to better arrange my stuff, which meant mine and Kelly’s as we shared everything. I had some ideas for furniture that would help, which I brought up with the group at dinner.
“That’s nice, hon,” Kira replied. “As long as you have measured things and know it’s going to fit where you want it, go ahead and order it. Have it delivered. But what I really want right now is some sex.”
In response, Kelly stripped right at the dining room table, striptease-style, at the last tossing her bra in Kira’s face and her panties in mine, and stood there shaking her boobs for a moment.
I grinned and said, “Well, if it’s going to be that kind of party...” I dropped my pants and stood for a moment to wave my erection at them.
When we finished our meal, I took off my shirt as well and cleaned up the dishes totally nude. When I was done with that, I gathered all the clothes from the floor and joined my wife and other self in our bedroom.
They were already in bed. And for a change, Kira had put on the strap-on, fucking Kelly with it in her pussy. So I joined in, fucking Kira in her easily accessible asshole.
But after Kelly came once, we took a break, and when we reassembled we did our usual double penetration of Kira.
Saturday Kira had been with Steph at bridge, and today Steph came here for my bridge practice. The tournament they had invited me to was coming next Saturday, and while we had covered a variety of conventions, today we were all going to be playing the same conventions that would be used in the tournament.
At a beginner tournament, many advanced conventions were outlawed. Everybody was going to be playing some variation of Standard American Yellow Card, a common set of modern conventions. There were still a good number of options available, and everybody was going to have a convention card with them, with those options they were playing marked. Kira went over them both so I would know what my opponents might be playing as well as to explain why she suggested specific options for me.
There were only a few artificial bids, which were the commonest ones: the strong 2 clubs opening and its 2 diamond waiting response, responses to a 1 no trump opening, Blackwood (which could be standard or key card; I was playing standard), doubles of below-game bids for takeout and certain bids in competition, and Michaels cue-bids and the unusual 2 no trump overcall. None of these required alerting - there would be no alerting in our game, though Kira had explained some tournaments used it.
Kira had pre-assembled 10 decks of cards with various hands that were meant to illustrate some of these conventions, a few we hadn’t covered yet and some that we had. In each case, she knew how the bidding was supposed to go, and if Kelly or I deviated from that she corrected it. We did not actually play the hands; instead, we opened them all up after the bidding and Kira explained how the hand would play for our given contract, and how it might play in other contracts that we might have arrived at under different conventions or against different opposing bidding. After that, we just shuffled and dealt hands normally, and played them.
We stopped for lunch, a lunch that included discussion of certain conventions, and played all afternoon. Dinner had more convention talk, and Steph went home afterward.
We didn’t do anything more sexual than quick kisses while Steph was here, but the evening featured more sex.
On our second Monday off after the wedding, I showed Kira some programming. Of course, she had some programming in college - it’s impossible to get a bachelor’s degree today without some exposure to it.
I showed her Python. She appreciated many of the same features I did: It used English words in ways that made programs readable. The forced indentation, which some proponents of other programming languages decried as silly, actually did make it more readable, and easier to read if you were not making loops so long you couldn’t easily get the whole thing on the screen at once, which in itself encouraged good programming practice by breaking longer tasks out as separate functions.
I gave her some practical programming tasks. One of them was the game Mastermind. I stated it as a programming problem as follows: In one file I provided was a partial Mastermind game, each line having a four-letter string with different letters representing the colors, and the result as counts of black and white pegs. Print all the color strings which could be the answer given the set of clues. This had her practice how to read a file, break it up into words, figure out how to loop through the combinations of colors, and then check each one against the clues, eliminating it if that string would not give any result indicated, and printing it if it matched all the clues. The clue matching provided good use of a function - she could write a function which took an answer string, a clue string, and a clue result and return True or False whether it matched. When she was getting lost in the program getting too long, I suggested this, and it really helped her understand why programmers use functions.
We also did some paperwork today. Kira had brought home Friday some more of the paperwork to combine accounts, making certain that my name and her name were both on various records where they should be.
Finally it was bridge tournament day. Kira and both of me loaded up in her car right after breakfast, and we drove down to Stamford for the tournament, which started at 9. We met Steph there, got registered, put on nametags, and got assigned pair numbers. Once the registration was closed, they came up with pairings, and they projected on a screen a table of pair numbers and seats for each round. So I knew, for instance, my pair would be sitting north-south at table 9 for the first round and east-west at table 6 for the second round. I quickly wrote down these numbers. Five rounds of 4 hands each before a lunch break, and 8 more rounds after lunch, each at a different table. The tables were being supplied with cards and labels which provided the table number, a big NORTH arrow and labels for each set, and a list of which pairs were supposed to be seated each way each round. They also told us there was no pair 28, and if we were matched up against that pair, it would be a bye round.
Whew! We did not get a bye, so we played 52 hands in 8 hours (plus an hour break for lunch), and we met up with Steph for dinner afterward, and discussed some of the hands. I clearly did not have the memory for this that Kira and Steph did. Apparently, they played mostly the same hands as we did, in another room, but there were about 60 tables with several copies of each hand, and they played 10 rounds of 5 hands each. Kelly and I remembered a few of them, including the one where I bid Blackwood and put us in a 6 spades contract that made exactly for a top board. More than half of the players who played that hand missed the slam and only bid game, and two of the ones that bid it went down, so we were tied with only three other pairs who bid and made the slam. But there were many where either we could not recall the hand or we played it so differently that what Kira described didn’t ring a bell. We finished above average, 7th best of the 27 pairs who entered our division. Kira and Steph got 2nd of their much larger division.
But there was a big spreadsheet they’d emailed us before we left with a row for each of the 27 pairs in our division on our sheet and one for each of the the hundred-plus in Kira’s and Steph’s, and a column for each board. In a shorthand notation the sheet crammed in when each of us played it, from what direction, against who, what contract was reached, with what result, the corresponding score, and the matchpoints that resulted from that. In the column headed Board 33, in our row was listed “1N17 S3NT+1 +630 3.2”, which says in round 1 we sat north-south against pair 17, the contract was 3 no trump declared by south, it made with one overtrick, scoring 630 points and 3.2 match points. At the top of each column was a link that let us see the full hand. Reviewing these results over dinner helped me and Kelly remember a few more of them.
But once we finished our food, we had to forgo any further analysis to get home at a reasonable hour. My head was spinning too much to understand more, anyway, and Kelly’s was too. When we did get home, we were too tired to do anything but climb into bed and sleep.
“How do you do it?” I asked Kira the next morning, after my usual change had left me as female Stacy.
“What? Keep all the conventions straight?”
“No, play a tournament like that every weekend.”
“You get used to it, I guess. Experience playing all the conventions probably helps, too.”
“I don’t think I could do that again for a month.”
“Then I’ll wait two months before asking you to another.”
So we did make love, but kept it simple.
While Kira was off with Steph at another bridge game, I was planning her next surprise. She loved the bondage stuff, so I wanted to set up a harness in our bedroom. My plan was to put a mirror on the ceiling over our bed, which is kinky enough on its own, but it would hide the harness.
While Kelly and Kira worked, I’d been researching it, and I’d figured out the basic plan. The mirror is installed on rails on the room side of the ceiling, secured through the ceiling to the ceiling joists, and on a set of motorized, remote-controlled sliding rails so it can slide completely away from the area of the bed. Our big bedroom supplied us with enough room.
Above the mirror would be the harness, also secured to ceiling joists, but fixed to always be above the bed, and revealed when the mirror slides aside. This needed some careful planning to ensure that it didn’t get tangled with the mirror or rails, that the straps themselves and the way they were attached would support two people’s weight (because the idea is that Kira would be held by the straps with one of us on top of her and one beneath, on the bed), that the straps were the right length to let Kira hang down within reach of the one of me on the bed, but not resting on top, and that the straps wouldn’t hurt Kira or me.
We were still trying to figure out the material for the harness, but I’d drawn up plans for where the attachment points needed to be, on the ceiling, in order to make something the right size to support Kira and one of me, and to not get in the way of the mirror or its rails. So today we got the mirror and rails and did the installation. And then we covered it up with a whole bunch of wrapping paper. So Kira knew we’d installed something there, but not what “something” was.
Because we’d taken our vacation on Mondays, we didn’t have a long period off before Christmas. Kira took off the Friday before and the Tuesday after. I had more vacation time and the both of me were home the Thursday before and the whole week after as well. So we still hadn’t managed to test a harness, though I’d managed to order some straps that were supposed to hold 500 pounds - enough for the weight of two of us and some extra pounding force. They hadn’t arrived yet, but I was hoping to test those the week after Christmas.
And there was no bridge tournament today, so we were going to enjoy Christmas Day together. Our usual mix-and-split schedule would have had me and Kelly doing one today, but we didn’t want to interrupt Christmas morning with that. But Kira insisted.
“It would be a great Christmas present to let me experience your mix-and-split close up. Like really close up.”
There was only the slightest twinge in my mind about Brenda, because I really had gotten over that. Kira wasn’t stupid like her; in fact, she was really bright. She was just kinky.
“You want me to spray myselves over you in the tub?”
“Yes, I would love that.”
“OK, but some ground rules.”
Kira assumed her submissive stance and said, “Yes, master. Explain your ground rules, please.”
“While it might seem like a golden shower to you, this is actually me, not my urine. So you can’t get any of it in your mouth. You keep your mouth closed during the process, don’t put your face near the streams, and I will avoid spraying it on your face. Second rule, you can’t get in the small tub. I need to do an equal split, so half of me has to end up in there and it’s just big enough. You can lie in the large tub, and I can spray some of me onto you, but after a while I will have to put it all into the small tub, so that it fills up and whatever excess there is overflows onto you. Third rule, when I’m done, you roll over to the edge of the big tub and stay out of the way of my body outside the tub reforming. You watch but don’t touch, except to the extent that I initiate the touch. Got it?”
“Yes, master.”
This went off without a hitch. I came out of the process as male Stacy, outside the tub.
Once I was done forming, I told Kira, “Ground rules are over now, but there’s still a price to pay.”
Female Kelly didn’t have to be told what the price was, and grabbed her strap-on. As was our norm when doing a quickie, she got the vagina and as the male I got Kira’s ass. When we were done with that, we washed out the small tub and set it outside, and then the three of us showered together in there. That was only possible because of the size of the tub. Kira had a normally sized one which would have fit two people at most.
Besides that, and Christmas dinner together, the main other thing today was the opening of the paper covering the mirror. Kira loved it, and I hope didn’t yet suspect what we were planning.
The straps arrived today. There were two long leather straps, some mounting hardware to fasten them into the joists, and a fabric-covered pad with sleeves on both sides that the straps would go through. Kira called to say she was going to have a long day today, so Kelly and I got it attached to the ceiling and then tested it. At first, we just lay down on top of each other on the fabric pad, and then we bounced a bit. It seemed secure, so then to give it a more complete test, we had sex on it, with me on top of Kelly. Then we tested the length of the straps by letting me lie on the bed and see if I could reach Kelly on the pad for sex from underneath. And it was perfect. She brushed against me a little but wasn’t resting her weight on me when she was lying on the pad.
So we declared this a success, and put the stuff away on top of the mirror. It fit up there pretty well without sticking out.
I wanted to unveil this for New Year’s Eve, but Kira ended up working until 8 and had to get to bed for a bridge tournament the next day, so it ended up being today.
“I’ve got a surprise for you today, but you have to be good.”
That was a code word we’d adopted meaning Kira had to be submissive. “Yes, master.”
When I slid aside the mirror and the harness dropped, Kira was confused for a moment, then overjoyed when Kelly and I lifted her up and put her onto the pad. We gave her a good pounding, with breaks to switch positions and holes.
When we finally stopped more than an hour later, once Kira caught her breath, she said, “You really outdid yourself this time.”
“Thanks. This was a challenge.”
“I have been sure for a while that I made the right choice with you. After all, I married you.”
That got a good laugh from both Kelly and me.
“But this is further confirmation that you are the right person for me.”
“Kira, the dominant role you asked me to play”
Kelly interrupted, “Asked us to play!”
“Yes, the role you asked us to play in our relationship wasn’t what I was used to, but I’m glad I’m doing it right.”
We helped Kira get down from the harness, and Kelly stood on the bed to put it away over the mirror as I used the remote control to slide it back into place, showing Kira the remote while I did so. Then Kira kissed us both and we went to our respective showers to clean up.
Kira and I had a good, long life together. On her next two "break" years Kira had two kids, a girl and a boy. That limited our own playtime some, but having three parents instead of two to care for them definitely helped!
The way we'd named ourselves Kelly and Stacy to distinguish ourselves within our minds didn't work for the kids. They just knew us as Daddy and Aunt Patty when they were little, Patty being a name we'd adopted for the female one of us while the male remained Clint when we had guests over. When the kids got old enough to understand, we did explain it to them, but they still called either of us Daddy if male and Aunt Patty if female.
Long before they reached puberty, it was confirmed by others that the children of switchers do not become switchers, so they got to grow up like most people still do and stay the gender they started as. And I think they liked it that way, though they occasionally resented never getting the opportunity to try being the other gender. When Dana was 12 and Sam was 8, I proposed swap day, a single day in the summer when we could all be together, and when Dana would dress as and be treated as a boy all day and Sam as a girl. The kids loved it, but were also glad to be able to go back to normal the next day. When they started talking about missing it, I set up another one, and we had them two or three times a year, even as they got older and it became more complicated to have them pass for the opposite gender. Dana stopped when she got a boyfriend who didn't go for the idea. Sam still dressed as a girl from time to time, and his eventual girlfriend had no problem with it, and they went out on one cross-dressed date a year after she found out about this family tradition.