“America for Americans!” Senator Alfred Stryker cried out to a massive dining hall full of his supporters. The attendees rose to their feet to clap and roar their approval.

“You all elected me to secure our border and round up illegals and boot them out back to where they came from,” Stryker continued. “That’s exactly what I did. Now I need your support to keep up that work. Another election is coming up, and there are anti-American traitors who would like to replace me and open the doors of our great nation to a horde of foreign criminals, rapists, drug addicts, and murderers. You can’t let them do that.”

As Stryker continued his speech, he grew confident that he had this one in the bag. The people attending the fundraiser had paid several thousand dollars per plate just to listen to him. Millions more in campaign contributions were pouring in every day from people who wanted to keep out the illegal trash. He was in great shape to win reelection. Things were going so well that he was starting to think he should throw his hat in the ring for the next presidential election.

Stryker was a handsome middle-aged man with a broad face and square jaw. He was broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and stood six-foot-four. His dark brown hair was peppered with streaks of gray that ran along his temples. His affected charm and sheer physical presence gave him a natural affinity for political campaigning.

He had been born into a wealthy family with extensive connections. His father had been a prominent media tycoon and his mother had been a renowned fashion model in her youth, before settling into the life of a family matriarch. Stryker had grown up with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. He could have done anything he wanted, but his love for the privileged world into which he had been born had compelled him to pursue a career in politics in order to preserve that self-contained world. After graduating from college and attending law school, he had worked as a staffer for a close family friend in Washington where he had learned the ropes and made useful allies before running for office.

Unlike most politicians, Stryker truly believed in the righteousness of his campaign promises. America was a nation built by and for white, English-speaking people. It was being ruined by all the dark-skinned foreigners who flooded across the border with their strange languages and bizarre customs. He was committed to solving that problem by keeping America for the Americans.

Stryker finished his speech and walked off the stage to intense applause. Offstage, he was greeted by a gorgeous blonde in a scandalously short red pencil skirt, matching blazer, and a low-cut white blouse that exposed a lot of cleavage. The blonde had a perky butt and a big pair of firm round tits. She was flanked by a small army of men and women dressed in professional business attire. They smiled and clapped as Stryker walked toward them.

“Great job out there, Senator,” the blonde said.

“Thank you, Lucy,” Stryker said.

Like all of his female staffers, Lucy Brainard was young and made for great eye candy. Unlike most of the women who worked for him, however, Lucy had a functioning brain.

Stryker didn’t typically like smart women, but he made an exception for Lucy because she was indispensable. As Stryker’s personal assistant, she did everything from book his flights to review his speeches.

“All right everyone, the Senator has a photo op with some Girl Scouts tomorrow morning and has to be on a plane for another fundraiser by noon,” Lucy said as she turned to the other staffers. “You’ve all got jobs to do, so get moving.”

The staffers quickly broke away and ran off to handle whatever tasks had been assigned to them.

Stryker stepped up beside Lucy and placed his hand on her shoulder as he walked toward the hotel lobby.

“How am I set up for tonight, sweetie?” Stryker asked.

“We’ve booked the penthouse upstairs for you,” Lucy answered. “I’ll show you the way.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

As they continued walking, Stryker slid his hand down Lucy’s back. It came to rest on her prominent butt. He playfully rubbed her ass. Lucy looked up at him and dutifully smiled.

Like all the girls who worked for Stryker, Lucy understood that there were certain unwritten obligations that weren’t included in the job description.

He remembered the first time he had made use of Lucy’s services. It had been a few days after he had hired her. They found themselves alone in his office late one evening. Stryker would never forget the surprised look on her face as he came up behind her and squeezed her breasts. She had silently succumbed to his advances as he had undressed her and taken her on top of her desk. She had been a good lay, albeit an inexperienced one. Stryker had made it a point to make use of Lucy’s services at least two or three times a week since then. She only got better with practice.

But he wasn’t interested in Lucy tonight. Variety was the spice of life.

As they rode the elevator to the penthouse and Stryker continued to fondle Lucy’s rear, he asked her, “And how am I set up for company tonight?”

Lucy was staring down at her feet, looking away from him. But she straightened up and forced a smile onto her face as she said, “You’re going to love her, sir. She’s exactly what you look for in your companions. And I made sure to stock the penthouse with your usual evening indulgence.”

The elevator reached the penthouse level, and they stepped out onto a short hallway that ended in front of large wooden double doors. She opened the doors for him and he followed her inside, where he found himself inside a spacious and opulent living room with an ornate coffee table and several couches which sat beside a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a panoramic view of the city.

Lucy waved her hand in the direction of the coffee table. There was a silver tray resting there. Lucy lifted the lid to reveal several lines of a white powdery substance laid out across the tray. In public, Stryker was adamantly opposed to such diversions. In private, such diversions helped him relax after a long day.

“Lovely,” he said with a grin. “And my companion?”

Lucy turned to look at a pair of closed French doors along the far wall, and said, “Dulce, please come out. The Senator would like to meet you.”

Stryker’s jaw dropped as the French doors opened and a petite young Latina stepped out. She wore a skintight off the shoulder long sleeve violet minidress. She was tiny, no more than five feet tall. Her demure physique only served to accentuate the size of her impressive breasts, curvy hips, and plump ass. Her long dark hair fell past her shoulders down to the middle of her back. She had a light caramel complexion and glowed like a little bronze goddess. Her thick ruby red lips, sloe eyes, and high cheekbones made for an alluring visage.

“Hola,” she said with an inviting grin. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her hips suggestively in Stryker’s direction.

Stryker considered Latin Americans to be a lazy, filthy, and ignorant people, and if there was one group he would love to permanently expel from America, it was them. But by god, they boasted the hottest, most sensuous women in the world. Stryker could not resist a pretty Latina. And this girl wasn’t just pretty, she was divine.

“You outdid yourself, Lucy,” Stryker declared. He gave Lucy a firm slap on the ass and said, “Now get out of here and give me and this lovely señorita some time alone.”

“Enjoy,” Lucy said as she dashed out of the room. Before she left, she looked back and shot a concerned look in the direction of the Latin girl. Then she turned away and fled.

Stryker took no notice of Lucy’s departure. He was too focused on the Latina.

As he unbuckled his pants and stepped toward the girl, he reflected on the good fortune he had. He led a charmed life.

~o~O~o~

Stryker twisted from side to side in a fugue. He was burdened by the worst hangover he could remember. Was it a hangover? It felt far worse than that. He felt half dead. His whole body throbbed with a dull ache that permeated every fiber of his being.

His eyes opened but his vision was blurry. All he could make out initially was light and shadow. As his vision cleared, he could just make out the bedroom in the penthouse where he had gone to sleep. He was lying on the bed naked.

Sleep? Had he gone to sleep? He could barely remember. Lucy had taken him to the penthouse after the fundraiser speech. He had met the Latina girl Lucy had procured for him. Then things got foggy. What had he taken? Why couldn’t he remember?

He heard a harsh, guttural sound coming from the foot of the bed. He turned his head to look and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark brown hair standing there wearing a bath robe. The man continued to speak in a foreign language. Whatever he was speaking, it sounded ugly.

“Quién eres?” Stryker said. As the words came out of his mouth, Stryker gasped. The words weren’t in English, but he understood them nevertheless. How? He tried to speak again and in a foreign language, he said once more, “Who are you?”

Stryker noticed that when he spoke, his voice had an unusually high pitch and dulcet tone to it. Something was wrong with his throat.

The man standing at the foot of the bed laughed, a brutish barking noise that set Stryker on edge.

The man spoke again, this time in the melodious language Stryker had used.

“Who am I?” the man said in the foreign language. “I’m Senator Alfred Stryker. And who are you, señorita?”

“Señorita”? Stryker recognized that word. It was Spanish for “miss”. They were speaking Spanish? How? Stryker didn’t speak Spanish.

In Spanish, Stryker said, “Don’t be a smart ass. I’m Senator Alfred Stryker.”

Yes, somehow, he was speaking Spanish.

“You sure about that?” the man said pointing at Stryker. “Take a look at yourself.”

Remembering suddenly that he was naked, Stryker looked down at himself and prepared to cover himself with the blanket. But instead, Stryker shrieked in terror.

When he looked down at his naked form, he was greeted by the sight of two massive breasts draped in long, thick black hair that hung down from his head. His skin had tanned and taken on a light caramel complexion. What had happened to him?

“What the fuck is this shit?!?!?!” Stryker shrieked in his new alto.

“That is your new body,” the man said.

Stryker looked back at the man and was greeted by a new shock. His vision had continued to clear, and he could suddenly see the man in perfect detail. He looked exactly like Stryker.

“Who are you?” Stryker demanded.

From a different direction, a woman’s voice said, “He already told you. He’s Senator Alfred Stryker. The question you must answer is, who are you?”

Stryker turned and saw an older Latina woman in a charcoal gray pantsuit standing beside the bed. She was probably in her forties or fifties but displayed an elegant beauty despite her age.

The woman continued, “I can answer that question for you. You are my daughter, Dulce Fortuna. And I am Esperanza Fortuna. But you will address me as Doña Fortuna. I’m a…business woman. I grew up in Tijuana. Unlike you, I was born poor, without any of the privileges you’ve taken for granted all your life. I worked my way up in the world and did all right for myself. Unfortunately, some people grew envious of my success. The cartels threatened my business interests and I came to America to escape their reach, only to find this country full of people like you. You and your followers are as much a threat to me as the cartels.”

“What are you doing here?” Stryker asked, flustered that he hadn’t seen the middle-aged Latina standing there before she spoke.

“Allow me to explain,” Doña Fortuna said in Spanish. “I am here to end your reign of tyranny. To that end, I have transferred my daughter’s soul into your body, and your soul is now in her old body.”

“Bullshit,” Stryker said. “Start making some fucking sense.”

“It’s true,” Doña Fortuna said. “The sooner you accept that fact, the better. Come, take a look at yourself in the mirror.”

Doña Fortuna grabbed Stryker by the wrist and hauled him out of bed. He was stunned by the woman’s incredible strength. She practically threw him in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the wall beside the bed. The big breasts protruding from his chest bounced around uncomfortably from the sudden motion, tugging painfully on muscles in his shoulder, neck, and back as they did so. They weren’t some sort of illusion, those breasts were firmly attached to his body.

Stryker was surprised by how difficult it was for him to stand on his feet, but Doña Fortuna held him up by placing her hands on his biceps. Again, her strength stunned him.

Stryker’s jaw dropped as he looked into the mirror. Looking back at him, being propped up by Doña Fortuna, was the Latina girl Lucy had gotten for him. As he stared at the impossible sight, the Latina girl’s jaw dropped in mimicry of Stryker’s own action.

“No!” Stryker cried as the Latina girl in the mirror emulated his scream. “No! No! No! This can’t be real!”

“It’s real,” Doña Fortuna assured him.

She pinched the flesh of his wrist and Stryker howled in pain. He instinctively batted her hand away.

“You see?” Doña Fortuna said. “That’s your body. You’re not dreaming.”

Stryker stared at the reflection in the mirror in stunned horror. Of their own accord, his eyes slowly moved away from the beautiful face of the girl in the mirror and made their way down past her sizable heaving breasts. Stryker’s eyes continued down past the girl’s flat stomach and moved toward the soft flesh between her legs. Her pubic area was clean shaven, and he could just make out a pair of puckered vaginal lips ever so slightly sticking out from between her thighs.

Stryker looked down and had to bend over slightly to see past his new breasts. He leaned forward and tried to get a better view of his crotch. He desperately prayed that the familiar sight of his penis and scrotum would be there to greet him. But there was nothing down there.

Like a man reaching for a freshly opened wound, he reluctantly extended his right hand toward the fleshy patch between his legs. He closed his eyes and grimaced in anguish as his hand pressed against thick labia.

The feeling against his hand was somewhat familiar, he had after all groped a lot of vaginas throughout his life. But the feeling that now emanated out from between his legs felt totally alien. A soft pulse almost like an electric current shot out from his crotch and ran up his spine, flowing in waves over the rest of his body. He pulled his hand away as if he had touched a burning flame. The equipment down there was extremely sensitive.

“Oh my god!” Stryker screamed. “My dick is gone!”

Tears pooled in his eyes and flowed down his face like a waterfall. Someone had taken away his manhood. There was nothing down there but a little fleshy slit sensitive to the touch. He reflexively squeezed his legs together. His tears flowed faster. The feeling of emptiness between his legs filled him with an overwhelming sense of despair. He felt an ache in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to throw up.

As Stryker continued to cry, the figure of his old body stepped beside him and smiled.

“What’s the matter?” the faux Senator Stryker asked. “That’s not how you reacted when you first laid eyes on that body. You’re a beauty.”

Stryker turned to face his old body. He was surprised to find that he had to crane his neck up to look up at his old face. His old form towered over his new body. The Latina girl was barely five feet tall while Stryker’s old body loomed over it at six-foot-four. He felt uncomfortable standing beside his old body. There was something vaguely threatening about its immense size in relation to his new form. Stryker found himself involuntarily taking a couple of steps back to put some space between the two.

“Por qué?, Stryker meekly whimpered in Spanish between sobs. “Why?”

“Why?” Doña Fortuna repeated beside him. She grabbed Stryker by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. “Because you’re an evil womanizing racist and misogynist. Because of your hate-filled policies, my daughter Paola is dead. Immigration enforcement agents tried to deport her. She ran from them and ended up getting hit by a car and dying. She came to this country because a cartel member in Mexico was stalking her. She fled to America seeking refuge. Your men killed her trying to toss her out like so much trash.”

Stryker continued to cry as he said, “I didn’t do anything to your daughter. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life.”

“You’ve destroyed countless lives with your mindless hate,” Doña Fortuna insisted. “Families are torn apart, children are left orphans, innocent people languish in detention centers, desperate souls struggling for a better life die of thirst in a vast, cruel desert. All because of your hate-filled policies.”

“I…I…was trying to protect America,” Stryker said.

“You were trying to purge this country of poor, dark-skinned people because you hate them,” Doña Fortuna. “Like your forefathers before you, you pursued a policy of ethnic cleansing. Nothing less. For your heinous crimes, you will suffer. My daughter Dulce will assume your identity and fix all the problems you have caused. Senator Alfred Stryker is about to have an epiphany and realize his campaign against vulnerable immigrants was a terrible mistake. He will abandon his war on poor, oppressed minorities. He will become their champion, pass new laws to protect them and keep them safe, and help them become productive members of this society. But as for you, you will spend the rest of your life as one of the poor victims you’ve persecuted. Never again will you be an arrogant, privileged rich white man. From now on, you will be a poor Mexican woman who must build a new life for herself in America, because if you get deported to Mexico, the same cartel thugs who threatened my daughter Paola will force you to work in their whore houses as a prostitute. A fitting fate for you, to experience the pain of those you terrorized.”

“No!” Stryker begged through his tears. “You can’t leave me like this! I’ll do anything you want! Anything! But please return me back to normal! I can’t live like this!”

“Save your breath,” Doña Fortuna said. “Speaking of all the people you’ve terrorized, one of them would like a word with you.”

Stryker’s old body laughed and walked toward the bedroom doors. The doors were opened, and his old form barked in the language Stryker didn’t recognize.

An instant later, Lucy walked through the door. At first, Stryker didn’t recognize Lucy. She was so tall now. At five-foot-six, Lucy wasn’t particularly tall, but she dwarfed Stryker in his tiny new body.

Still feeling somewhat disoriented, Stryker clumsily ran up to Lucy, his new breasts bouncing up and down with each step.

“Oh, thank god!” Stryker said. “Lucy, please, you’ve got to help me. This crazy bitch did something to me and…”

Lucy frowned and barked something to Doña Fortuna and the faux Stryker. Doña Fortuna exchanged words with Lucy. When they were finished speaking, Lucy stared at Stryker with a devilish smirk spread across her face.

“Lucy…I…I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Stryker said.

Lucy began shouting at Stryker, then she slapped him across the face. The blow was unimaginably powerful, and Stryker fell to the ground in a heap. He looked up at Lucy from the floor in confusion.

Lucy turned and left.

“We couldn’t have pulled this off without her,” the faux Stryker said. “Ms. Brainard was all too eager to help us. She even went as far as to drug you to make this easier for us. In case you’re wondering, your assistant just told you that she hates you, you’ll never lay your filthy hands on her again, and she hopes you enjoy your new life. You probably didn’t understand any of that because of the spell.”

“Spell?” Stryker repeated.

“To make sure you can’t run off to ask your old friends for help, and to make sure you understand what it’s like for the people you’ve hurt, I cast a spell to make you lose all knowledge of English,” Doña Fortuna said as she pulled Stryker off the ground and stood him back up. “Spanish is all you know.”

It was true, Stryker realized. The words that came out of his mouth were all Spanish. Even the thoughts in his head were all in Spanish. That was why his words sounded so strange in his ears. Well, that and the fact that he now had a woman’s voice. That was why he couldn’t understand the harsh guttural language that the faux Stryker and Lucy had used. They were speaking in English, and he couldn’t understand it anymore.

Stryker tried as hard as he could to say something, anything, in English, but the only words that came out of his mouth were, “La magia no es real. Nada de lo que dices puede ser cierto.”

Doña Fortuna smiled.

“The sooner you accept the truth, the easier this will be for you,” Doña Fortuna said. “Now get dressed we must be going.”

Doña Fortuna handed Stryker the same violet dress Dulce had been wearing when he first met her. Stryker quickly slipped into it. He wasn’t eager to wear a dress, but it was better than being naked. Not that that the revealing dress did much to cover up his new body. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he realized the fabric was so sheer that anyone could catch a decent glimpse of his new female anatomy. The fact that he wasn’t wearing any underwear only made the effect more pronounced.

“Now put on your shoes,” Doña Fortuna commanded, handing Stryker a pair of ankle strap sandals with four-inch heels. The heels were so long and narrow that they may as well have been stilts as far as Stryker was concerned.

“I can’t wear those,” Stryker said. “I’ll fall flat on my face.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Doña Fortuna said. “Put them on.”

Reluctantly, Stryker stepped into the high-heeled sandals and secured the little buckles on the ankle straps. He took several wobbly steps around the bedroom and just barely managed to stay on his feet.

“She’s a natural,” the faux Stryker said.

Doña Fortuna looked at the impostor and said, “I’m taking her to the apartment building. Are you going to be able to handle things here?”

The faux Stryker nodded and said, “Yes, and if I run into any problems, I have Lucy to help me. She hates this asshole more than we do. She’s only too happy to help.”

“Very good, Senator Stryker,” Doña Fortuna said to the impostor. Then she turned to Stryker and said, “Follow me, Dulce.”

“Where are you taking me?” Stryker asked.

“Home,” Doña Fortuna answered. “If you’d prefer, you can stay with Senator Stryker. He can put in a quick call to immigration and have some agents take you into custody. With things being the way they are, you’ll probably be back in Mexico this time next week.”

The new Dulce had absolutely no desire to go with Doña Fortuna. It was obvious Doña Fortuna had diabolical plans for him. But he glanced at himself in the mirror. Not long before, he had been one of the most powerful men in the country, confident, wealthy, and well-connected. Now he was just a poor illegal immigrant with no money and no identification who couldn’t even speak English. For the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to be powerless. And he knew he had no choice but to obey Doña Fortuna.

Forcing back tears of humiliation, Stryker reluctantly followed after Doña Fortuna.

“Good girl,” Doña Fortuna said.

Doña Fortuna stepped out into the penthouse suite with Stryker in tow, clumsily waddling around in his high heels. As they walked past the window, Stryker could see that it was still night outside. He took a quick glance at a clock on the wall and saw that it was 3:24 a.m. The fundraiser had ended only a few hours before. It felt like an eternity ago.

Stryker followed Doña Fortuna out to the elevator, and they rode down to the parking garage below the hotel. There, Doña Fortuna led Stryker to a luxury sedan and forced him into the passenger-side seat. Then Doña Fortuna drove away from the hotel.

After several minutes of silence, and against his better judgment, Stryker felt compelled to ask, “Are you a witch?”

“What’s in a name?” Doña Fortuna said. “As you can see, I have certain magical abilities. In time, you’ll find I have the power to perform a great many feats. If you want to call me a witch, that’s fine by me. I’ve been called worse.”

Stryker swallowed hard. Horrifying visions of just what Doña Fortuna could do to him with her magic filtered through his mind’s eye. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him.

“Doña Fortuna,” Stryker began, “you said that in Mexico your daughter Paola was harassed by cartel members. Why didn’t you use your magic to make them stop?”

Doña Fortuna glared at Stryker, and for a moment he regretted saying anything. But a moment later Doña Fortuna’s expression relaxed, and he felt a little relieved.

Doña Fortuna said morosely, “My child, I am not the only person in the world who can perform magic. It is more common than you realize. The cartels have plenty of sorcerers and witches at their disposal. And there are far more powerful forces at work in the world than you can imagine.”

Stryker found Doña Fortuna’s response deeply unsettling.

Doña Fortuna drove to a part of town filled with low-rent apartment buildings and run-down looking businesses. Stryker recognized the area as Chaparral Terrace, a working-class neighborhood populated mostly by working-class Mexican immigrants and their descendants. Chaparral Terrace had once been regarded as a den of criminal activity filled with slums, but in recent years an ambitious redevelopment project had brought a lot of new businesses to the area and improved its reputation. Some parts of Chaparral Terrace were still plagued with street gangs and drug dealers, but overall, it was an up-and-coming community.

Doña Fortuna pulled up in front of a modest-looking apartment building. Stryker followed her out of the car and upstairs to the third floor. The carpet in the hallway was worn out and several of the bare lightbulbs in the ceiling flickered erratically as if they were about to go out. Doña Fortuna led Stryker to a shabby wooden door at the end of the hall and unlocked it with a key she pulled from her pocket. The door creaked and trembled on its hinges as Doña Fortuna opened it.

Doña Fortuna flicked a light switch and the two women stepped into a claustrophobic studio apartment. The walls were painted a dark green avocado color, and were sporadically punctuated with mysterious brown, white, and yellow stains. The floor was covered with taupe-colored shag carpeting that looked like a sick dog’s fur. There was a flimsy metal bed frame coated with rust resting along one wall, a pathetic, wafer-thin mattress lying on top of it. A wooden dresser sat against the wall directly across from the bed, a narrow space only a couple of feet wide being all that separated the one piece of furniture from the other. On top of the dresser was an ancient, cube-shaped television with a thirteen-inch screen. There was a counter beside the dresser that separated a small kitchenette from the rest of the studio. The paltry kitchenette was outfitted with nothing more than a little sink without much room for dishes, a pitiful-looking electric stove, a mini fridge, and some overhead cabinets. Opposite the door to the studio was a window with a badly torn curtain drawn over it.

“This is where you live?” Stryker asked in disbelief.

Doña Fortuna chuckled.

“No, this is where you live,” Doña Fortuna said. “I own this building and you’re my newest tenet. This lovely economy unit goes for eight hundred dollars a month.”

That struck Stryker as ridiculously overpriced for what was basically a closet with a cot and a hot plate. As Alfred Stryker, eight hundred dollars would have been pocket change to him. But he realized that he was now an unemployed illegal immigrant without a dollar to his name. Eight hundred dollars may as well have been eight million dollars.

“How do you expect me to pay you?” Stryker asked. “I don’t have any money.”

“You will when you get your first paycheck,” Doña Fortuna explained. “You’re going to work as a waitress in my restaurant. I’ll just go ahead and deduct your rent from your paycheck.”

A lump formed in Stryker’s throat. Doña Fortuna kept stacking one humiliation on top of another. He couldn’t take it anymore. Was this to be his new life? It was as if he had died and gone to hell.

“Now don’t cry again,” Doña Fortuna demanded. “Your first shift starts at noon. Get some sleep, you’ll need it. It’s going to be a twelve-hour shift. There’s a purse in one of the drawers. Inside, you’ll find twenty dollars and a bus pass. They’re an advance on your first paycheck. The six seventy-six stops right outside the building every thirty minutes. It will take you to my restaurant over on Seventh and Zaragoza. Don’t be late.”

Doña Fortuna walked toward the door.

“That’s it?” Stryker said. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

“Yes,” Doña Fortuna said. “If you’re not happy with this arrangement, you’re free to leave. Go to the police, if you want. Tell them you’re a powerful American politician who has been magically transformed into a poor Mexican girl. If you’re lucky, instead of deporting you back to Mexico and delivering you into the hands of my enemies among the cartels, maybe they’ll just lock you up in a mental institution for the rest of your life. Either way, I’m sure you’ll find that the world is full of men eager to take advantage of beautiful young girls in difficult positions, men just like Alfred Stryker.”

Stryker couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He began to weep again.

“Stop with the tears already,” Doña Fortuna said. “Go to the bathroom, wash off your makeup, and clean yourself up.”

Stryker looked around the studio.

“There’s no bathroom,” he observed.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Doña Fortuna said. “You share it with the other tenants on this floor. I’ll leave your keys on the dresser. Good night, Dulce.”

~o~O~o~

Stryker woke up the next morning when sunlight burst through the tattered curtain covering the window. He had tossed himself on the bed and cried after Doña Fortuna had left. He had passed out from exhaustion immediately afterward.

His breasts jiggled as he sat up in bed. He was still wearing the dress he had worn the night before and his feet remained ensconced in the high-heeled sandals he had put on in the hotel where his soul had been transferred into Dulce’s body. Any hope he had clung to that the night before had been only a horrible dream dissipated as he felt the weight of his big breasts hanging from his chest, the tickle of his long hair on his bare shoulders, and the stark emptiness between his legs.

There was a clock hanging on the wall that read 9:43 a.m. He remembered that Doña Fortuna had told him to be at the restaurant by noon. But why bother? Stryker’s life had been stolen from him. He was doomed to live as a poor Mexican woman from now on. Could Doña Fortuna do worse to him if he refused to obey her commands? After a few moments, Stryker realized she probably could. That was when he reluctantly crawled out of bed.

He became aware of an urgent pressure building in his groin. That feeling was similar to one he had known as a man, although slightly different. He had to go to the bathroom.

Stryker grabbed the keys Doña Fortuna had left for him and raced out into the hallway. He found the door to the bathroom and unlocked it.

He gagged at the sight of a bathroom with pale yellow tile on the floor and running halfway up the walls which was stained with mildew and mold. There was a sink with a medicine cabinet hanging over it against the far wall, a scummy toilet, and a bathtub with a shower head. All of it was filthy, and the musky, humid stench was nauseating. The bathroom smelled of feces, urine, and sweat.

As disgusting as it was, Stryker had to pee. He could not force himself to sit on the toilet seat. Instead, he squatted over the bowl with his dress pulled up to his waist. He relaxed his muscles and a stream of urine poured out from the slit between his legs and arched into the toilet. He sighed with relief at the welcome sensation of his bladder emptying.

After moving away from the toilet, he let his dress drop and flushed. He began to walk toward the sink when he noticed a dampness between his thighs. That was when he realized there was still some urine smattered down there.

Stryker grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed the moist lips of his vagina with it. The coarse toilet paper irritated his tender lips, but the feeling of pressure on his vagina stimulated him in an unexpected way. He tried not to dwell on that feeling. It was too bizarre. He tossed the wad of toilet paper into the toilet and flushed it again.

When he went to the sink to wash his hands, he stared at his reflection in the mirror built into the medicine cabinet. The mirror was badly scratched up with graffiti, but Stryker was able to make out his face. Even after the night of fitful sleep he had, Dulce’s face still looked beautiful. The girl whose body he now inhabited was a stunner. Stryker took some solace from that. Perhaps he was doomed to spend the rest of his life as a poor Mexican woman, but at least he was a beautiful poor Mexican woman. That was better than being ugly, at least.

As he admired his reflection, Stryker noticed that the makeup that coated his new face was flaking off and beginning to peel. He splashed water on his face and tried to wash it off. He was surprised by how tightly it clung to his skin. He had to scrub hard for several minutes before he was able to get most of it off. Some stubborn bits and pieces of makeup nevertheless remained on his face.

Stryker was glad to see that, even without the makeup, Dulce’s face retained an impressive natural beauty. But he couldn’t deny the makeup certainly accentuated her looks.

He returned to his room. For a few minutes, he contemplated running away. But where could he run to? Unable to speak English and without any legal documentation, it was fruitless to go to the police. Even if they could provide him with a translator, how would the police react if he told them what had happened? Doña Fortuna was right. If he were to tell the police that he was actually Senator Alfred Stryker and that he had been magically transformed by a Mexican witch with a grudge against him, the police would lock him up in a mental institution. And maybe they would be right to do that. Stryker felt like he had lost his mind. He would fit in perfectly in a nut house.

There was no use in going to the authorities. He considered trying to get in touch with his wife, Bridgette. But that idea soon dissipated. Bridgette was a twenty-three-year-old former beauty pageant winner, and heiress to a massive fortune. Her family owned a global pharmaceutical conglomerate that held the patent on one of the world’s most popular painkillers. He had married Bridgette for her looks and her money, and she had married him for his connections and his money. It was a marriage of convenience. And conveniently enough, big corporations like the one Bridgitte’s family controlled had gotten massive tax breaks during Stryker’s time in office.

Bridgette was a vacuous airhead and she despised Stryker. The few times they had sex, Bridgette lay on the bed lifelessly with her legs spread apart and her eyes shut tight, waiting impatiently for Stryker to finish. It was like having sex with a cold fish.

Even if Bridgette would hear out a poor illegal immigrant, she wouldn’t give a damn about Stryker’s predicament. Bridgette was a selfish bitch. She didn’t care about anyone but herself.

Who else could Stryker reach out to? Few people within his social circle would listen to some illegal immigrant. Maybe some of his old male acquaintances would listen to a beautiful young Latina girl, but only for the opportunity to get in between her legs.

The thought of being penetrated by one of his old friends compelled Stryker to involuntarily squeeze his legs together. An image ran through his head of a big meaty penis burying itself inside his tiny womanly slit. He was horrified at the thought of having another man’s member stabbing around the inside of his new body.

Despite his anxiety over the idea of being defiled by a man, a small part of Stryker grew excited by the thought. His new female psyche was naturally drawn to the idea of being with a man. He tried his best to bury that desire. He had always considered homosexuality a mental illness and despised gay men as sexual deviants. The mere thought of being with another man disgusted him. The fact that the idea of getting physical with a man suddenly appealed to a part of him deeply disturbed Stryker.

Stryker sighed. He walked over to the window at the far end of her room and pulled aside the curtain. Outside, across the street, he could see a convenience store and a motel. Several suspicious men loitered around outside one of the motel rooms. Suddenly the motel room door opened and a disheveled man wearing jeans and a t-shirt stumbled out, made his way to a nearby car, and drove away. A young Latina girl about Dulce’s age wearing a tank top and denim shorts stepped out of the motel room and motioned for one of the shady men standing around outside to follow her back into the room. The two of them disappeared within as the girl closed the door.

Stryker backed away from the window. What was the point? If he ran away, he would end up homeless and living on the streets. His only means of making money would be by selling his body like the girl in the motel across the street. He was better off sticking with Doña Fortuna, at least for now.

Stryker walked over to the dresser and rifled through it. He found a pair of jeans and a shirt. He pulled the dress he was wearing off over his head and tossed it on the ground, then he kicked off the sandals he was wearing. He was about to slip into the jeans when he remembered that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Stryker found a pair of beige cotton panties in the dresser. He had no desire to wear women’s underwear, but there were no boxer shorts that he could see. Swallowing his pride once more, he put on the panties then slipped into the jeans.

The jeans were skintight. They exposed every curve of Dulce’s hips, thighs, and butt. They were nothing at all like the loose relaxed-fit pants worn by men.

He pulled the shirt on over his head. He was surprised to see that the shirt had an extremely low-cut neckline that exposed a lot of cleavage, and it was cropped so that most of his belly was left uncovered. Even worse, his nipples were prominently on display through the fabric.

He removed the shirt and searched through the drawer again until he found a bra. Stryker sighed again. There would be no end to the degradation.

It took Stryker a while to figure out how to put on the bra, but once he did, he put the shirt back on. To his relief, the bra succeeded in hiding his nipples. His breasts and midriff still peeked out of his low-cut shirt, but he couldn’t do much about that.

The only shoes he could find in the apartment were the high-heeled sandals, so he wore those.

He looked at the clock on the wall again. It was just after 10:30 a.m. He still had some time before he had to meet Doña Fortuna at the restaurant.

Stryker ran his tongue across his teeth. His mouth had a rank taste to it. He decided to look around the studio for a toothbrush and toothpaste, or even some breath mints.

To his relief, the kitchen cabinets were stocked with various supplies, including hygiene products. There was deodorant, shampoo, soap, and hair spray. With some bemusement, he noticed lipstick, nail polish, and other feminine beauty products. He wasn’t going to be needing those things. Then his eyes fell on a product that he had absolutely no desire to ever use.

Stryker’s hands reached up and grabbed a small blue cardboard box decorated with the image of a smiling young woman walking through a field of grass sprinkled with bright flowers on a sunny day. His hands trembled as he stared at the package. Sanitary pads. Stryker swallowed hard and tears began to pool in his eyes. If he didn’t find a way to get his old body back, the slit between Dulce’s legs would eventually start gushing blood and he would have to wear one of those diaper-like things. The idea was humiliating, and it gnawed at him.

Stryker fought back his tears and found both toothpaste and a toothbrush. He marched back to the bathroom down the hall. Looking at Dulce’s reflection as he brushed his teeth, he began to feel better.

The night before, Doña Fortuna and the faux Stryker had caught him off guard. Whatever the so-called soul transfer involved, it packed a punch and had knocked him off his feet. Now, after a little sleep and a chance to clean himself up, he felt more in control. He almost felt like Alfred Stryker again.

Okay. He couldn’t run to the cops and tell them who he really was. But maybe he could make up a more believable story to get their help. Maybe he could tell them Doña Fortuna was a human trafficker who had kidnapped him and tried to force him to work as a prostitute.

No. That wouldn’t work. Thanks to the mandatory reporting laws he had passed through congress, the police would have to turn him over to immigration enforcement officers, and he would be deported to Mexico. He couldn’t let that happen. In Stryker’s mind, Mexico was a barbaric wasteland, and being sent there was a fate worse than death.

Besides, even if he could convince the cops to help him, they couldn’t do anything to put him back in his old body. He had to find a way to convince Doña Fortuna to put his soul back where it belonged. But how?

Stryker had always bulldozed his way through life, going after whatever he wanted and relying on his family’s money and connections to ensure he got it. That was all he knew how to do. And that’s what he would do now. He would just go up to Doña Fortuna and demand that she put him back in his old body. If she refused, he would kill the miserable bitch. She had said there were other people who could practice magic. Stryker would find one of them. He would get his old body back or die trying.

He finished brushing his teeth and opened the bathroom door to return to his room. Standing behind the door, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, was a muscular Latino with tattoos covering his chiseled chest and arms.

Of their own accord, Stryker’s eyes gazed at the man’s muscles. They were so large and firm. He wondered what it would feel like to touch them. Probably it would be like touching sinewy wrought iron.

Stryker gasped as he abruptly felt the tender flesh between his legs grow flush. His vagina grew warm and moist at the sight of the man’s bare body. He grew uncomfortable as he felt something under his labia stirring. A sensitive little lump buried somewhere under the folds between his legs stiffened as it engorged with blood. Strangely, it felt sort of like there was a tiny penis down there. It dawned on Stryker that what he was feeling down there was probably his clitoris. His nipples also grew erect and tingled, and he hoped they weren’t visible through the bra he was wearing.

The man grinned lasciviously and muttered something in English.

“Que?” Stryker said.

In Spanish, the man said, “I said I was just about to take a shower, cariña. How about you join me?”

Stryker was aghast. Not because the man was making a pass at him, but because he wanted to see what the man had under that towel around his waist. The image of a big, rock hard slab of man meat filled his mind’s eye. The thought of a swollen penis didn’t disgust Stryker. It excited his new body as much as a big pair of tits or a woman’s hourglass figure would have excited him in his old body. He had an instinctive desire to wrap his hands around the penis that he pictured in his head.

“Excuse me,” Stryker said as he deftly squeezed past the man and dashed toward his room.

He looked over his shoulder to see the man staring at him as he fled, chuckling. His imposing muscles vibrated subtly with the sound of his laughter. Oh god. Those muscles. They had a power over Stryker’s new body that scared him stupid.

Stryker got back into his room and slammed the door shut behind him. He practically hyperventilated.

“I’m not gay!” he cried. “I’m not gay! I’m not gay! I’m not gay!”

Maybe if he repeated it enough, the dirty thoughts would go away. But it was no use. He couldn’t deny it. The male body appealed to him now just as much as the female body had appealed to him before Doña Fortuna had worked her magic on him.

That was a troubling thought. As a man, Stryker had been addicted to women. It had been difficult for him to go without sex for even a day. His need for physical relief had been so great that he had found ways to satisfy his desires even when he couldn’t find a willing woman. He had taken many unwilling women in his time. Sure, it had gotten him in trouble a few times, but never anything his family’s money couldn’t fix. If he was now trapped in a woman’s body with the same libido he had possessed as a man…Stryker shuddered to think. Sex had always been as essential to Stryker as air or water. If that was still true in his new female body, Stryker was in trouble.

After a few minutes, his heart rate returned to normal, his breathing slowed down, and the intense heat between his legs subsided. To his embarrassment, there was a stickiness between his legs where his feminine fluids had flowed out from his slit.

He had more incentive than ever before to get his old body back. He knew what would happen if he stayed in this body, as surely as he knew that the sun would rise the next day. No. He didn’t want that. He had to regain his manhood, no matter the cost.

Stryker went to the dresser and pulled out the purse Doña Fortuna had left for him. He checked to see that the bus pass and cash were in there. They were, along with some makeup, gum, and…and half a dozen condoms. Stryker rolled his eyes.

He left the studio and ran down the stairs. There was a small crowd of people waiting at the bus stop, including a group of young men who smiled and eyed Dulce’s body appreciatively as Stryker walked up beside them. Stryker smiled awkwardly at them then looked down at his feet. He could feel eyes crawling all over his prominent breasts and reflexively crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to hide them. It was a futile gesture, he wouldn’t have been able to hide them under a circus tent, let alone under Dulce’s skinny little girl arms.

“Hey, girl, where are you off to?” one of the young men ogling Stryker asked.

He was probably about Dulce’s age and admittedly handsome in a rugged sort of way. Stryker simply couldn’t deny that he found the young man physically attractive. Did that make him gay? Could he be gay if he was attracted to men while he inhabited a woman’s body? If he was still Alfred Stryker on the inside, why did the fact that he was trapped in a woman’s body change who he was attracted to? Did the mind determine sexual attraction or the body? Ugh. These questions were way too complicated. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was just as horny in Dulce’s body as he had been in his old body.

“Uh, I’m going to work,” Stryker answered the young man.

The young man nodded and said, “Cool. When do you get off work? Maybe I could meet up with you later.”

Stryker found himself giggling, a response that surprised him. Mercifully, the bus arrived just then. As tiny as he was in Dulce’s body, Stryker practically knocked everyone around him down trying to get on the bus.

The stares didn’t stop once he got on the bus. Every man on the bus looked him up and down eagerly as he made his way to a seat toward the back. He could tell several men wanted to sit next to him, so he took a seat beside an elderly woman to ensure none of the men sat with him. He was relieved when the bus reached the corner of Seventh and Zaragoza.

Once Stryker got off the bus, he instantly knew he was in the right place because he found himself standing in front of a nondescript Mexican restaurant with a sign out front that said Doña Fortuna’s. He walked in through the front door and was immediately greeted by a pretty young Latina girl standing behind a wooden podium. She wore a traditional white Mexican dress with red and green stripes running horizontally across her skirt.

The girl smiled and said, “Welcome! Table for one?”

Stryker shook his head.

“No, I’m not here to eat,” Stryker said. “I’m here to see Doña Fortuna.”

“Oh,” the girl said. “You must be, Dulce. Your mom said you were going to come down here to help out. I’m Marisol. Nice to meet you.”

“Is she here?” Stryker asked insistently.

Marisol gave Stryker a dirty look and said, “She’s in her office in the back.”

Stryker marched past Marisol and made her way through the restaurant. Framed photographs of famous Mexican sites hung from the walls along with other Mexican cultural iconography like flags, posters of famous athletes, paintings of historical figures and events, and articles of traditional clothing. There were several dining rooms, most of them empty except for a few customers catching an early lunch and a couple of waitresses wearing the exact same dress as Marisol. Televisions hung from the walls in a few rooms, playing either the news or local sporting events. One room Stryker passed by was closed off, but Stryker could see there was a full bar and a large open area probably used as a dance floor. No one was in there now.

Stryker walked through the kitchen where cooks, dishwashers, and bus boys shot longing glances at him as he walked by. Directly behind the kitchen was an office where Stryker found Doña Fortuna sitting behind a desk typing away at a computer. She was dressed in a dark blue skirt and blazer with a white blouse.

Stryker stopped abruptly and steadied himself. His mouth went dry. After what had happened the night before, he found himself intimidated by the mere sight of the woman who had taken his manhood away. He suddenly became keenly aware of the void between his legs. He missed the reassuring weight of his male parts as they dangled between his legs, jostling about with every step he took. Right then he would have given anything to feel the sense of power that came whenever he developed an erection. He had always loved the feeling. It imbued him with a sense of dominance. The feeling of the vagina between his legs had exactly the opposite effect. It made Stryker feel weak, soft, limp. That overbearing emptiness between his legs weighed heavily on Stryker.

Notwithstanding the emotional impact of the void he now felt below his waistline, Stryker had to concede that his new vagina was much less obstructive than his male genitalia had been. He had constantly found himself adjusting and scratching his male parts. Women’s genitalia required less attention and maintenance by comparison. Physically, it was more comfortable not to have sacks of flesh swinging around down there. But Stryker wanted his male parts back just the same.

“You’re just in time,” Doña Fortuna said. “You’ve been assigned a locker in the break room next door. You’ll find your uniform there. I’ll be deducting the cost of your uniform from your paycheck. Go ahead and get changed then go see Marisol. You’ll be working as a hostess for the first few hours of your shift.”

“Now wait just a moment,” Stryker demanded. “This has gone far enough. You caught me off guard last night, but I refuse to play along with this farce any longer. You may have magic powers, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am still Alfred Stryker. You know who I am. You know what I can do. I will not live like this. You change me back or I will find a way to make sure you pay for what you’ve done.”

Doña Fortuna stared at Stryker in silence for a long time. Then she grinned.

“Found your balls have you, Dulce?” Doña Fortuna said. She glanced down for a moment at Stryker’s crotch. “Figuratively speaking, of course. Follow me.”

Doña Fortuna stood up and strolled out of her office. Perplexed, Stryker followed after her.

The two women walked out a door at the rear of the restaurant and stepped out into a parking lot. Beside the door was a chain link fence that enclosed a small area occupied by a handful of kennels. Doña Fortuna unlocked a gate built into the fence and whistled. Six German Shepherds ran out of the kennels and sat beside one another in a perfect row in front of Doña Fortuna, like trained soldiers standing at attention.

“Good boys,” Doña Fortuna said. Gesturing at the dogs, she said, “Listen carefully, little girl. Standing before me are the immigration officers who tried to deport Paola. They were nothing more than your attack dogs anyway. I thought it fitting to turn them into actual dogs as a punishment for their role in her death. If you speak to me with such disrespect again, I will physically transform you into a literal bitch. I will turn you into a female dog and make it so that you are constantly in heat. You will spend the rest of your miserable existence servicing these dogs, and I will use you to breed puppies. Is that understood?”

The emptiness between Stryker’s legs suddenly became more conspicuous. No, he hadn’t found his balls. He had just become desperate. It was all bluster. His courage disappeared just as readily as his manhood had the night before.

“Yes, Doña Fortuna,” Stryker said, staring down at his feet. “I understand.”

“Good,” Doña Fortuna said. “Don’t test me, bitch. Now get changed.”

There was an employee break room beside Doña Fortuna’s office. It contained a row of lockers, one of which had Dulce’s name stenciled on it. Inside that locker was a dress like the one Stryker had seen the waitresses wearing in Dulce’s size and a pair of shoes, black flats that looked sort of like ballet slippers except that they were made out of cheap leather instead of fabric. Stryker changed into the uniform, placed his purse and clothes inside the locker, and went to see Marisol.

Marisol glowered at Stryker as she went over the duties of a hostess. It was pretty simple, she just had to take patrons to their tables and ensure that the tables were evenly distributed among the available wait staff. That was it. Stryker worked as a hostess for the first couple of hours.

His feet became sore after standing for so long, but what really bothered him about the job was the way all the male customers constantly stared at his chest. Some men were subtle about it, sneaking glances when they thought he wasn’t looking, but others blatantly stared at his chest when they spoke to him. It wasn’t bad enough that the constant bouncing motion of his big breasts served to remind Stryker that he was stuck in the body of a nubile young woman, the stares only underscored the fact that people no longer saw him as a wealthy, powerful political figure, they saw him as delicious eye candy to be savored. He was no longer a leader of men, he was just a hot girl with a great pair of tits.

Things grew worse when Stryker was reassigned to wait tables. Thankfully, most of the customers spoke Spanish and taking their orders presented no real challenge. Even those who spoke only English were able to make themselves understood by simply pointing at the menu, which was written in both English and Spanish. And carrying drinks and plates of food wasn’t as taxing as it sometimes looked. But the male customers moved beyond merely leering at him and advanced to openly flirting with him.

Men would ask questions about his background, make unsolicited comments about his appearance, make jokes, and playfully tease him. And that was the more restrained customers. Several customers were more aggressive, wanting to know if he was single, asking for his number, and insisting on taking him out sometime. Those men did not react well to Stryker’s evasive responses, and he felt far too intimidated to unequivocally reject their advances. Stryker was scared of some of his would-be suitors, who seemed on the verge of throwing his tiny body over their shoulders and hauling him away to a cave to ravage him.

Of course, his feminine libido welcomed the idea. Many of the men who came to the restaurant were virile young blue-collar laborers who worked with their hands and, as a result, had big muscles. Looking at those large, powerful men made Stryker’s womanhood grow warm. It was impossible for him to deny that his female body was physically attracted to some of the men who flirted with him and yearned to penetrate him. Buy notwithstanding his physical attraction, they still managed to scare him with their aggressive flirting.

A big part of the fear stemmed from disparities in size. In his old, formidable body, Stryker had towered over entire crowds of people. In the dainty little body he now inhabited, even short men who stood only five-foot-eight or five-foot-six loomed over him. That made every man a giant while Stryker was merely a pixie.

Yes, their imposing size made sexually assertive men scary, but for some strange reason that also excited Stryker. Standing in front of a tall, muscular man, barely reaching to the height of his chest, he would become aroused. An incredible desire to be embraced in such a man’s arms would overcome Stryker when he found himself in that position. His labia would flush and grow warm, his nipples would stiffen, and his clitoris would engorge and start to poke out from under the fleshy folds where it lay hidden.

After several hours of waiting tables and fending off lustful men without a break, Doña Fortuna allowed Stryker to have lunch. The kitchen staff prepared a simple meal for him made up of rice, beans, and shredded pork, which he drank with a glass of water. Despite the fact that he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since his transformation the night before, Stryker didn’t have much of an appetite.

Across the table from him, Marisol was polishing her fingernails during her own break.

“How do you put up with guys pawing at you all day?” Stryker asked her.

Marisol shrugged dismissively.

“They’re guys, that’s what they do,” Marisol said. “Looking the way you do, I’m sure you’re used to it by now.”

“I’m new to all this,” Stryker said.

“I know it’s your first day, but you better get used to it, especially now that the evening shift is about to start,” Marisol said.

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Stryker said. “Wait, what about the evening shift?”

Marisol blew on her nails to dry them and said, “They’re going to put you on evening shift. That’s when they open up the bar and start pouring drinks. If you think customers paw at you during the day shift, just wait until they get some booze in them. Oh boy.”

It was even worse than Marisol had warned. After his break ended, Stryker was sent to the bar room where he served drinks. It soon became clear exactly what sort of bar it was. It rapidly filled with men and women who were looking to get drunk or get laid or both. The bawdy men who ordered drinks had no shortage of sultry women eager to satisfy them, but they weren’t above targeting Stryker and the other waitresses. The customers offered to buy him drinks and insisted that he dance with them. And they made a habit of pinching and slapping his rear when they wanted his attention.

It never occurred to Stryker that he had been every bit as barbarous with women when he had been a man. In his deluded mind, women had always welcomed his advances. But he certainly didn’t welcome the way the drunk men in the bar fondled and groped him.

The void between his legs had never felt more pronounced than when he served drinks and found himself subjected to harassment from men who were twice his size. His little slit felt so vulnerable. If any of the drunk men grabbing at him wanted to take him as he had taken so many women, women like Lucy, there was nothing he could do to stop them. His large breasts, bouncing up and down with every step he took and drawing unwanted looks from every eye in the room, reinforced his feelings of vulnerability. They were like two giant bullseye targets. He felt as if the very body in which he was trapped was betraying him, working against him. He felt powerless.

And to emphasize just how much of a traitor his female body was, despite everything, Stryker was still aroused by the attention that the drunk, rude, selfish, and cruel men directed at him. A part of him was drawn to those abusive men.

His libido had not subsided. Even as the gaping void between his legs made him feel weak, that void yearned to be filled. No matter how hard he resisted the compulsion, Stryker’s thoughts kept returning to the image of a thick, rigid penis swollen with blood. He imagined touching it, feeling its warmth in his hands, feeling its firm strength pressing against the warm, wet, soft, and inviting flesh between his legs. He wanted to feel that power again, even if it was as an object invading his body rather than an extension of his body. He wanted the strong, powerful firmness of a man to enter him and fill the void within him, to drive away the weakness that characterized the body in which he was now trapped.

The killing blow came from an unexpected direction. The televisions hanging in the bar mostly displayed sports coverage, but one showed a news program. Stryker glanced at it and saw his old body standing in front of a crowd of reporters. The faux Stryker was giving a press conference. It was in English, so Stryker couldn’t understand what was being said, but the impostor was all smiles while the reporters looked surprised. Standing behind the impostor, a grin on her face, was Lucy. The traitor. Her betrayal had allowed Doña Fortuna to inflict this hellish torment on Stryker.

Seeing the real Dulce in his body and seeing Lucy working alongside her broke Stryker. Doña Fortuna had humiliated him, imposed one degrading punishment after another on him, and that had hurt. It had hurt badly. But seeing Dulce and Lucy hijack his life – his real life – while he labored as a cocktail waitress who had to contend with a bunch of drunken illegal immigrants groping him drove Stryker over the edge. It was just too much to bear, and his resolve completely collapsed.

Among the drunken patrons at the bar was a tall Latino wearing oil-stained jeans, work boots, and a dark blue shirt with the name “Miguel” embroidered on the front of it. He had thick, disheveled black hair and a face heavy with stubble. By the size of his swollen biceps and bulging pectorals, he lifted weights. He may have been rough around the edges, but he was gorgeous.

A few minutes before, the man, presumably Miguel, had asked Stryker when he was getting off work. As he had with practically everyone else who had asked him that question, Stryker had smiled insipidly and said nothing.

Now Stryker sashayed over to Miguel and whispered to him, “I get off in an hour. Meet me out back.”

Miguel smiled.

Although the restaurant’s kitchen closed at 11:00 p.m., the bar remained open late into the night. Stryker’s shift, mercifully, ended at midnight. Once his shift was over, Stryker returned to the break room. He hurriedly changed out of his work uniform and back into the clothes he had worn to the restaurant.

For a moment, he entertained second thoughts. Once he did this, he would be crossing a point of no return. Even if he managed to get his old body back, he would never be able to undo what was about to happen. But the feeling of emptiness had become excruciatingly painful by this point. He physically needed something to alleviate the pain. The desire for relief was irresistible. And just as the desire for a similar form of relief could have been satisfied by taking a woman back when he had been a man, Stryker instinctively knew that he could obtain relief now only by submitting to a man.

Stryker opened the back door to the restaurant. He stepped into the parking lot and searched the darkness. A dim streetlamp off in the distance offered some illumination. Leaning against a wall in an alleyway at the far end of the parking lot, Stryker could see a bulky figure. The figure waved to him.

Suppressing his doubts and fears, Stryker dashed across the parking lot. He recognized the formidable figure of Miguel as he stepped closer.

“Hola,” Stryker said meekly. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Miguel shook his head as he stepped toward Stryker.

“No, right here is fine,” Miguel said.

Miguel wrapped his arms around Stryker forcefully and pulled him forward, lifting Stryker off the ground and pressing his lips against Stryker’s. Stryker offered no resistance. He welcomed the feel of Miguel’s powerful embrace, enjoyed being bound within the grip of his muscles. Stryker parted his lips and allowed Miguel’s tongue to slip into his mouth and explore it.

Miguel tasted of stale alcohol and smelled of a potent mixture of marijuana and sweat. The alleyway was heavy with the stench of garbage, including rotting food. Stryker could hear the chittering of scampering rats all around them and could see large, furry silhouettes scurrying across the ground. Doña Fortuna’s guard dogs barked in agitation from their kennels.

None of that diminished Stryker’s desire. Miguel’s touch set his flesh on fire. Any reservations Stryker may have had evaporated. His tongue and lips explored Miguel’s. As Miguel’s hands ran over Stryker’s body, Stryker’s own hands gripped Miguel’s muscular arms and chest. Stryker could feel his womanly fluids seep out of his slit as his body lubricated his flesh to ease Miguel’s much anticipated entrance. He could feel his clitoris quiver with excitement as it engorged and poked out from under its hood.

Something hard jabbed Stryker in the abdomen. He knew instantly that the object stabbing at him was Miguel’s manhood, and he was impressed by the size of it. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

Stryker pulled away from Miguel, who dropped Stryker back onto his feet. Without saying a word, Stryker dropped his pants and underwear down around his ankles then leaned against the wall of the alleyway, sticking his bare butt out as far as it would go.

“Take me!” Stryker cried.

Miguel needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself behind Stryker, gripped Stryker’s hips firmly in his hands, unbuttoned his own pants, and then plunged his erect member deep into Stryker’s receptive flesh.

Stryker groaned as Miguel’s fat cock pulled open the lips of his vagina and then stretched apart the muscles in his groin. As Miguel buried himself inside of Stryker, a sharp, searing pain overwhelmed Stryker’s senses. For a few moments, he was incapable of forming a coherent thought. The pain was blinding. Gradually, the pain subsided as Miguel made his way deeper into Stryker. The pain gave way to pleasure. Stryker moaned with delight as he savored the sense of fullness that Miguel’s manhood brought him. At long last, that nagging feeling of emptiness was gone. The void had been filled by Miguel. Stryker tightened his grip on Miguel as his vaginal muscles squeezed together. Miguel’s strength and firmness were reassuring.

Stryker lost himself in physical ecstasy as Miguel began pumping in and out of him. Stryker thrusts his hips back and forth to match Miguel’s movements.

Stryker screamed as intense waves of pleasure flowed out from between his legs and rippled across his body. With each thrust, the waves grew more and more powerful. The muscles in his body tensed, and he knew that the relief he so desperately needed would be his in mere moments.

Then Miguel pushed deep into Stryker and stopped moving. Stryker felt Miguel’s penis convulse violently inside of him. An instant later, Stryker felt an intense warmth wash over his insides. Miguel howled as he released his seed.

“Don’t stop!” Stryker pleaded pathetically.

He was so close to finishing. He had to finish. He would go mad if he couldn’t achieve release. He kept thrusting his hips back and forth in a vain attempt to keep things going. But he knew it was futile. He felt Miguel grow limp and pull out. It was over.

“Thanks,” Miguel said as he pulled up his zipper and buttoned his pants. Then he began to walk away.

His pants and underwear still pulled down around his ankles, Stryker turned away from the wall and watched as Miguel walked away and disappeared down the alleyway. Stryker felt some of Miguel’s seed drain out of his slit and ooze down his inner thigh.

Tears pooled in Stryker’s eyes and flowed down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe what he had done. He had just allowed another man to penetrate him and ejaculate inside his body.

He had always believed that the most degrading thing a man could do was to voluntarily allow another man to penetrate him. Well, he had done just that. And it wasn’t even in the context of a homosexual encounter. He couldn’t even console himself with the thought that he was still a man. He looked down at the smooth patch of flesh beneath his waist. He wasn’t a man anymore. He was just a poor, slutty Mexican girl.

Stryker pulled up his pants. He walked out to the front of the restaurant. He didn’t know if the bus ran this late. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t planning on waiting for it.

Stryker began walking down the street back to Doña Fortuna’s apartment building. Even as late as it was, he could see people wandering the streets, primarily in the shadows. He couldn’t tell who they were or what they were doing. A part of him worried that they might represent a threat, would-be muggers or rapists. But he didn’t really care. He was now living a fate worse than death.

Perhaps because he made for such a pathetic sight, a young, bedraggled Latina girl with a tear-stained face walking the city streets alone at night, no one bothered Stryker. Eventually, he reached the apartment building, went up to his studio, threw himself onto the bed, and passed out from exhaustion.

~o~O~o~

Doña Fortuna made Stryker work at the restaurant six days a week, twelve hours a day. She deducted the cost of rent from Stryker’s pay, which ate up most of his wages. After paying for food and a bus pass, Stryker did have a little money left over to use for things like clothes or personal hygiene products. It wasn’t much, but since he owed no debts to anyone other than Doña Fortuna, money really wasn’t a huge problem for Stryker. There was so much else to worry about.

As the weeks passed, Stryker continued to entertain fantasies of learning enough English to ask for help from the police or one of his former acquaintances. But it was just that, a fantasy. He had always assumed illegal immigrants couldn’t speak English because they were too lazy to learn the language. As it turned out, learning English was hard. Stryker tried, but he struggled with it. His job as a waitress afforded him the opportunity to learn a few English words and phrases here and there needed to help him serve customers, but he would never be fluent in the language.

He was able to watch Spanish language programs. The Spanish language news updated him on the activities of the faux Stryker. Apparently, Dulce had usurped his identity to reverse his policies. The faux Stryker claimed that learning about the death of a young Mexican girl that had occurred during an attempted deportation had opened his eyes to all the harm his policies had caused. Senator Stryker dedicated himself to helping underprivileged immigrants, removing barriers to their participation in society, and creating a more diverse and open community. What Dulce did infuriated Stryker, but there was nothing he could do to stop her.

What Stryker had done on his first night as a woman turned out to be no fluke. The insatiable libido Stryker had possessed in his male body carried over into his female body. Whereas Stryker had previously required an endless supply of willing (or less than willing) women to satisfy his carnal desires, in his new body he found himself turning to one man after another to satisfy his animal urges. Except he found no satisfaction.

To his frustration, Stryker learned that sex was a different experience for women than it was for men. As a man, Stryker had only been interested in his own gratification. Once he was done, it was over. He didn’t know or care if any of the women he used ever got to finish. As a woman, the men he hooked up with were exactly the same way. Once they deposited their seed into Stryker’s womanhood, the sex was over. While Stryker enjoyed the sex, he had yet to experience an orgasm as a woman. He was left always wanting more. That was a big reason why he slept with a different man almost every night. But no matter how many men he went through, he never achieved the release he so desperately craved. It was hell.

He tried self-gratification, but that was different for women, too. Stryker had rarely pleasured himself as a man. He had always been able to get his hands on a woman, one way or the other. But the few times he had indulged himself, it was a pretty simple process. Male equipment was straightforward. He had just stroked until completion. It was that easy.

The equipment women had to work with was far more complicated. It had taken him a while to figure out which parts did what. After he got that out of the way, he realized that although girl parts were generally more sensitive, that didn’t mean stroking those parts was enough. It felt good to play with them, but they didn’t seem to do anything. There were other parts down there that weren’t nearly as sensitive, but they led to greater stimulation of certain muscle groups that reminded Stryker of the way it felt just before he had discharged as a man. But on multiple occasions, he had spent an hour or more exploring himself without achieving orgasm. It was aggravating. He was constantly yearning for something that never came.

It didn’t stop him from sleeping with as many different men as he could find. He had been glad to learn that there was a community clinic a few blocks from his apartment that gave away free condoms and provided government subsidized birth control.

Although he and Marisol had gotten off on the wrong foot, they usually worked shifts together and had grown close over time. After a few months of working alongside one another, Stryker even began to consider her a friend. Marisol had been surprised by all the different aspects of being a woman that Stryker was unfamiliar with, such as applying makeup and cooking, and she had gone out of her way to relieve Stryker of his ignorance. He was now able to apply his own makeup without any trouble, a skill that made it even easier to pick up men. Under Marisol’s tutelage, he gradually became a decent cook, although he wasn’t going to be winning any blue ribbons for his meals.

Stryker and Marisol hung out together frequently on their time off. They would go out to shop or to watch a movie or do something else to pass the time. But mostly they went out at night to meet men. Sometimes it was just the two of them, sometimes they would go with the other girls from work or with some of Marisol’s many siblings or cousins. They had fun, even though their goals were different. Marisol was always looking for a boyfriend, often finding one but frequently observing serious flaws with him. She was a very demanding girl. But she didn’t judge Stryker for cycling through lovers. She nevertheless assured Stryker that one day he would find a man who would make an honest woman out of him and convince Stryker to give up his promiscuous ways. Stryker always laughed off the idea.

To his surprise, Doña Fortuna mostly left him alone. She seemed content to check in on him every so often to see that he was still suffering, or to update him on the latest steps the real Dulce was taking to unravel the anti-immigration policies he had set up. Beyond that, she only demanded that Stryker show up to work on time and do what he was told. Stryker was always too afraid to ask her about any future plans she had for him.

The restaurant staff knew Dulce was Doña Fortuna’s daughter, and he could tell they were curious about the cold relationship between the two. But despite the fact that the staff loved to gossip, from the line cooks to the bartenders to the waitresses, they didn’t pry into Doña Fortuna’s affairs.

Perhaps that was because rumors circulated among the staff about Doña Fortuna’s abilities. They believed she had certain mystical powers. For example, there was a story that one of the waitresses once had a father who suffered from stomach cancer. They said Doña Fortuna used her magic to cure his illness. There was another story about one of the cooks being threatened by local gangsters over money, and Doña Fortuna transforming the gangsters into stray dogs. The workers told all sorts of stories about a number of things, many of them involving the paranormal. Marisol, for one, claimed her mother’s house was haunted by poltergeists. Stryker had no idea if any of the stories were true. What he did know for sure was that the workers feared and respected Doña Fortuna. That fear and respect extended to Dulce at least insofar as no one asked too many questions about her relationship with her mother.

In this way, the days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years.

To his surprise, the day eventually came when Stryker stopped thinking of himself as Stryker and began to think of himself as Dulce. Or rather, she began to think of herself as Dulce. It happened so gradually that she didn’t even realize it until long after it had happened.

One day, she was at a swap meet in the parking lot of a closed down drive-in movie theater shopping for clothes with Marisol, listening to her complain about her latest breakup, this one with a landscaper one of her brothers had introduced her to.

“He said he doesn’t want to be with a woman who works,” Marisol said as she looked through a clothes rack full of summer dresses. “He said he wants be with a woman like his mother, one who stays home and takes care of the kids. Can you believe that?”

Dulce grunted in disgust.

“Men don’t understand how hard it is to be a woman,” Dulce said. “They don’t know all the bullshit we have to put up with from them. That’s why I avoid relationships. I don’t need a man telling me how to live my life.”

That was the moment when Dulce realized she no longer thought of herself as a man. That was also when it dawned on her how vile she had been as a man. Alfred Stryker hadn’t simply harassed women and used them for sex. He had been a rapist who saw women as objects that could be used to gratify his lust, not as fellow human beings with thoughts, feelings, and desires of their own.

And after living in America as an undocumented immigrant for several years, she knew firsthand how challenging life was for undocumented immigrants, and how much more difficult Stryker had made things for such a vulnerable group with his heartless campaign of persecution. As much as Stryker purported to despise the barbarous cartel bosses who exploited the poor, underprivileged people of Mexico, Stryker was every bit as evil as any of them. Stryker was a monster.

She was ashamed of the way she had acted, of the person she had been. But she wasn’t that person anymore. She was Dulce Fortuna, a hardworking Mexican immigrant, a liberated woman who could take care of herself and wasn’t dependent on anyone. She missed the privileges that came from being a rich white man, sure, but she was proud of what she had been able to do without any of those privileges. The few things she had in her life, she had earned. They hadn’t simply been handed to her the way Stryker had everything handed to him. Life in America as a young, undocumented woman wasn’t easy, but she was getting by just fine.

Marisol chuckled.

“You aren’t in a relationship because you’re a slut,” Marisol said with a smirk. “But I keep telling you, one day you’ll find a man who’ll change your mind. You always find love when you’re not looking for it.”

“Then do yourself a favor and stop looking for it,” Dulce said.

Marisol snorted derisively.

Some months after that exchange, Dulce had the day off while Marisol was working, a rare occurrence. After she made a simple lunch for herself and ate it, she decided to spend the afternoon at a nearby park. Otherwise, she would just stay in her apartment all day watching the salacious Spanish soap operas she was fond of.

Dulce took a walk around the park before sitting down on a bench beside a pond. She pulled out a Mexican celebrity gossip magazine and began reading it. She and Marisol liked to while away the hours chatting about the affairs of their favorite television and movie stars, and Dulce wanted to stay updated.

After half an hour, a young Latino man wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots sat down on a patch of grass beside the pond, pulled a sandwich out of a brown paper bag, and began eating it. He was handsome, tall, and muscular. Dulce immediately wanted to sleep with him.

She knew from experience that she couldn’t make the first move. Men were resentful of sexually aggressive women. They wanted to feel in control. A woman had to make them think they made the first move.

Dulce pulled her shoulders back and stuck her plump breasts out. Like everything else she wore, the floral print dress with spaghetti straps that Dulce was wearing put her cleavage on full display. No man could resist feasting his eyes on her bountiful chest. And when the young man predictably took a peek, she whipped her hair back, glanced up at him, and smiled slightly. Then she turned back to her magazine and continued reading.

When the young man finished eating his sandwich, he strolled over to the bench where Dulce was sitting and took a seat at the opposite end. Dulce ignored him.

“I hope you don’t mind my sitting down,” he said.

“It’s still a free country,” she said indifferently without taking her eyes off the magazine.

“I just got off work and came here to relax,” he said. “What about you? Not working today?”

“No,” she said. This was always the worst part, having to make small talk before making it clear she wanted to fuck. “I’m free all day. What do you do for work?”

“I do it all,” he answered. “Putting up drywall, painting, carpentry, plumbing, electrical. A little bit of everything. Times were tough a few years back. No one wanted to hire us because of all the problems they would get for hiring people without papers. Things have gotten better since that white man in Washington changed the laws to make it easier to hire us.”

Dulce sighed. She heard comments like that all the time.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said honestly. And she was. Dulce, the real Dulce, was doing a great job cleaning up Stryker’s mistakes. She sometimes wondered how Dulce enjoyed life as Stryker. “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

The man shook his head.

“Nothing beyond enjoying all of life’s simple pleasures,” he said with a warm smile. “My name is Pedro, by the way, Pedro Cortes. May I ask your name?”

“Dulce Fortuna,” she answered with a smile of her own as they shook hands. “Maybe we can enjoy those simple pleasures together.”

“That would be great,” Pedro said. “Say, have you ever seen the sunset from Gillian Observatory?”

“Uh, no,” Dulce said.

“We can go for a walk there,” Pedro said. “It’s not far. There’s a beautiful view of the city.”

That wasn’t the sort of fun Dulce had in mind. But she figured they could go to bed after viewing the sunset.

She and Pedro walked to the observatory. Along the way, they talked and got to know each other.

It turned out Pedro lived only a few blocks from Dulce. He rented space in a garage with several friends with whom he had crossed the border a few years before. They all worked various jobs and pooled their resources together to pay the rent. He hoped one day to save enough money of his own to buy a used truck and start his own business as a repairman. He had a knack for understanding how things fit together and came apart, there was nothing he couldn’t fix.

Dulce was evasive when Pedro began to ask about her past. She told him that she had come to America with her mother and sister to avoid problems with the cartels in Mexico, and that she worked as a waitress at her mother’s restaurant. She also mentioned that she and her mother didn’t talk much after her sister had died while being chased by immigration agents. All of that was close enough to the truth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pedro said. “I’ve lost people I care about, too. My brother died during the crossing after he got separated from the rest of us. They found him in the desert dead from thirst. A friend of mine was deported a few years ago and died trying to get back. It’s not easy to move pass losses like that.”

“No, it’s not,” Dulce agreed.

She had long ago come to understand that, after losing Paola to Stryker’s villainous actions, Doña Fortuna had actually been merciful in her treatment of Stryker. Doña Fortuna would have been justified in killing Stryker. Instead, she had decided to give Stryker a second chance, in a way. That said a lot about who Doña Fortuna was deep down.

They reached the observatory and watched the sunset from the well-maintained lawn outside. It was every bit as beautiful as Pedro had said it would be. Dulce found it strange that she had never taken the opportunity to appreciate such simple pleasures in her former life.

Afterward, they walked and talked some more. Dulce grew antsy and asked Pedro to walk her home. He was happy to oblige and Dulce eagerly looked forward to a night of lovemaking.

When they got to her apartment, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and turned to invite him in.

Before she could say anything, Pedro said, “I enjoyed spending time with you. Would you mind if I came by tomorrow after work? There’s a bar nearby where they play live music. Maybe I can take you there.”

“Okay,” Dulce said.

She was worked up and wanted to bed Pedro right then and there, but she was worried she might scare him off if she pushed him. It would be difficult, but she could restrain herself for one night.

They saw each other the next day. And the day after that. And the following day. Each time, Dulce made it clear she wanted to sleep with him. And each time, Pedro didn’t take advantage of the opportunity.

Marisol laughed when Dulce complained about Pedro’s reluctance while they were having lunch in the break room.

“It’s obvious he likes you,” Marisol said. “He doesn’t want to offend you by trying to sleep with you right away. You’re lucky. It’s so hard to find a gentleman like that.”

“I’m not looking for a gentleman,” Dulce whined. “I’m trying to get laid.”

Marisol rolled her eyes and said, “Pearls before swine.”

Enough was enough. Dulce had needs. She was losing her mind after nearly a week without sex.

The next time she and Pedro got together, she insisted on staying home and making him dinner. He relented, and she had him cornered. After they were finished with dinner, she threw Pedro on her bed, tore off his clothes, and forced herself on him.

She felt a little bad about what she did. For the first time in a long time, she almost felt like Alfred Stryker again, the way she had forced herself on someone else.

But she got no complaints from Pedro. And she had no reason to complain. Far from it. The experience was phenomenal. Unlike all her previous lovers, Pedro made it his mission to satisfy Dulce. And he did. Over and over again. He must have had a lot of prior experience. The way his fingers manipulated the tender flesh between her legs was magical. Within minutes of his reaching down there with his hand, Dulce experienced her first orgasm. It was mind numbing, better than anything she had ever experienced before, as a man or a woman. She was floored when Pedro put his face between her legs and began to pleasure her with his mouth. She didn’t think there were any men who did that. Pedro’s skilled tongue allowed her to experience a second soul-shattering orgasm. Then Pedro revealed his well-endowed organ, a perfect example of manhood, and buried himself inside Dulce. She lost count of all her orgasms after that. But by the time Pedro rewarded her by filling her insides with his seed, she had entered a blissful state of euphoria.

While the sex was amazing, the next morning something bizarre happened. Dulce woke up beside Pedro and didn’t want to say goodbye to him. That had never happened before. She usually felt a little disgusted with herself after sex and couldn’t get away from her lover quickly enough. Not this time. She was happy to see Pedro, and they made love again.

When Pedro finally did say goodbye, she demanded to know when she would see him again. He offered to come back after she got off work. That whole day, Dulce couldn’t wait to finish her shift and return home.

When Dulce told Marisol what had happened, Marisol laughed at her.

“I knew it!” Marisol cried. “You have a heart after all! Dulce Fortuna, the notorious man-eater, is in love!”

“Love!” Dulce repeated. “I barely know the man!”

“Girl, you’re in for the ride of your life,” Marisol said.

It was indeed the ride of Dulce’s life. Each day, she looked forward to seeing Pedro again. Happiness was being held in his arms. Every moment that she was away from him was agony. Whenever they were together, all she wanted to do was find ways to make him as happy as he made her. On top of all that, the sex was extraordinary.

One day, as she was lying in Pedro’s strong arms on a picnic blanket at the park, Dulce realized that Doña Fortuna had not cursed her. Doña Fortuna had given Dulce an extraordinary gift. As Alfred Stryker, Dulce had merely been a slave to her physical urges, and she had never known the joy of actually loving another human being. Her love for Pedro was the most rewarding and fulfilling experience of her life. Not only was she happy that she was Dulce Fortuna, she would never willingly go back to being Alfred Stryker. Stryker was a soulless beast, a man dead on the inside. So devoid of life was Alfred Stryker, that even a poor, undocumented Mexican woman was richer than he would ever be. Dulce had something Stryker never would, she had love in her heart.

One morning, after she and Pedro had been together for a year, Dulce realized that her period was late. Pedro had already gone to work for the day, and she almost began to panic at the implications of the fact that she was late. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with being a woman, being a mother seemed like something completely outside her depth. But after a couple of hours of reflecting on it, the idea didn’t seem so bad. She was in a relationship with a wonderful man who treated her like a queen, a man she loved more than life itself. Growing that love by bringing a child into the world didn’t seem like a burden, it seemed like a gift.

She bought a pregnancy test from the pharmacy down the street and administered it before going into work. When the results turned out to be positive, she smiled. Tears of joy flowed from her eyes. She was going to be a mother. A few years before, the idea would have horrified her. Now it filled her with sheer happiness.

She went to work looking forward to returning home that night to share the good news with Pedro.

During her shift, Senator Stryker held a press conference that was shown on one of the televisions in the restaurant. Dulce wondered how the original Dulce was faring these days, felt a tinge of pity for her at being trapped in the body of a bitter, hateful man, but otherwise didn’t pay much attention to it.

Dulce happened to be waiting on a table with an attractive young Latin couple. Her English wasn’t very good, but from the little she could pick up of their conversation, they sounded like they were on their first date.

The young Latina woman was dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue and gold Mustangs jersey. She was stunning. About the same height as Dulce, her arms and legs were slim with delicate hands and feet. Her hips were pleasantly curvy, but not overly thick, her butt was round and firm, her stomach looked flat without any excess fat, and her breasts were massive. Her pretty face was completely free of makeup, with a pert little nose, thick lips, and slightly elongated eyes. Her eyes were light brown, and her skin complexion the same light caramel color as Dulce’s, but perhaps a shade darker. Her eyes and complexion went nicely with her long black hair, which had a slight bounce to it that gave it volume.

The Latino man wore a pair of boot cut jeans and a Bandits jersey. He had a thick head of black hair parted to one side, a few loose locks casually cascading down along the edge of his forehead. His tight-fitting jersey revealed broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and rock hard pecs. His skin boasted a rich honey bronze complexion. Dulce glanced at his face and found a pair of almond-shaped eyes that were a deep amber hue set along broad cheekbones and a sharp chin.

Dulce imagined the couple had just come from watching a football game and hoped their date was going well so far.

The man’s eyes widened as Dulce approached their table. That was a typical reaction from a man. What was unusual was the fact that the woman’s eyes also widened upon seeing Dulce.

In her heavily accented English, Dulce said, “Buenas tardes, my name is Dulce and I’ll be your waitress. Would you care for a drink?”

The woman ordered a margarita, and the man ordered a beer. As Dulce darted off to get their drinks, she overheard the woman chastising the man for ogling Dulce. Typical.

As Dulce returned with their order, the woman was looking up at the television and, seeing the press conference, asked in English, “Isn’t that Alfred Stryker?”

The man said to her, “That’s the guy. He’s the senator who spent years running on a platform of deporting illegal immigrants. Then a few years ago, he completely changed his position. Now he’s proposing all these bills to help immigrants.”

“I don’t buy it,” the woman said. “Tigers don’t change their stripes. Whatever his politics, he’ll always be an asshole.”

As she set their drinks on the table, Dulce looked at Stryker on the television and said to the woman, “People can surprise you sometimes, señorita. They can change in all sorts of ways.”

As she walked away from the young couple, Dulce smiled and reflected on just how true that was.

Chapter One

“I’m still not sure how I did it,” I said to Erica as she continued stocking the shelves of her shop with the strange curiosities she sold, in this case some leather-bound books.

“And I’m not completely convinced you did it at all,” Erica said without even bothering to stop what she was doing to look at me.

The two of us were alone in Erica’s shop, which bore the highfalutin name Madam Zolga’s Occult Science Academy. Erica sold books on magic and other objects of interest to practitioners of magic. I didn’t understand why she had chosen such a dull name for her shop when there were catchier alternatives, but that was her business.

I crossed my arms over my chest, inadvertently squeezing together my ample breasts. I sighed. I had been a woman for months now and yet sometimes I unconsciously acted like I still possessed the body of a man. I uncrossed my arms and settled for placing my hands on my hips.

“Do you think I would make up something like that?” I asked.

I tried my best to look imposing. That wasn’t easy considering that I was a tiny twenty-two-year-old Latina who stood barely five feet tall and weighed little more than one hundred pounds. As a man, I had been six feet tall and weighed two hundred pounds. Adjusting to my petite feminine frame had been quite the challenge.

My attempt to look imposing wasn’t helped by the fact that I was dressed in a backless mid-thigh length floral print dress and ankle strap wedge sandals. I looked like I belonged at a summer picnic, not at a magic shop.

“No,” Erica replied. “There are other possibilities. You may have hallucinated the whole thing. You may have tapped into magical forces that you don’t understand. There are other ways to explain what you think you experienced.”

Erica was a raven-haired woman in her thirties with ivory skin. At five-foot-six, she towered over me. The first time I had walked into Erica’s shop, I had expected the titular Madam Zolga to be an old hag decked out in a head scarf with a wart on her nose, flashy golden hoop earrings hanging from her earlobes. Erica had upended those expectations. Dressed as she was in an emerald A-line dress with a black leather belt and a pair of white slingback heels, horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her hair styled in a shoulder-length bob cut, Erica looked more like a fashion-conscious librarian than a stereotypical psychic.

“I think you’re jealous,” I said.

“Jealous of what?”

“Jealous that I figured out a secret that stumped people who have been toying with magic for years,” I said. “You’re jealous that I figured out that djinn artifacts can function as destiny orbs, as gateways between dimensions.”

Erica set the books in her hands down on the counter and glared at me. That had gotten her attention.

“Even if everything you’ve told me is one hundred percent true, djinn artifacts aren’t destiny orbs, and what you’ve described doesn’t sound like travel between realities,” Erica said.

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously.

“It sounds to me like you traveled to whatever world it is that the djinn call home,” Erica explained. “You said you didn’t have a physical form and you were able to perceive multiple realities simultaneously. That’s not how inter-dimensional travel is supposed to work. You may have had a window into other realities, but it doesn’t seem like you physically traveled to those realities. And destiny orbs don’t allow someone to ‘switch out’ realities the way you described doing. To me, it sounds like you may have found something in the djinn dimension that allowed you to change this reality. I can’t begin to tell you how dangerous that could be.”

“But Mort said…”

“I warned you not to trust the djinn,” Erica interrupted. “They have no respect for mortals and don’t care for anything other than their own selfish desires. Whatever you accomplished by traveling to the djinn world should be cause for concern, assuming you even traveled to the djinn world.”

Erica’s attitude troubled me. It wasn’t because she was being so testy. Erica was naturally argumentative and I was used to her being dismissive of my ideas. It was because she seemed genuinely worried about what I had done.

Erica wasn’t a magic practitioner like a witch or a sorcerer. She was simply a psychic with the ability to read auras. But Erica knew more about magic than almost anyone I knew, not that this was saying much.

Since being transformed into a woman a few months earlier by an irascible djinn who had called himself Mort, the only other people I had met with any significant knowledge of magic were a witch from Rich Port named Chastity and her niece Summer, who had been Chastity’s nephew until Chastity had transformed him into a girl in some misguided effort to teach him a lesson.
I had gone to Chastity in the hope that she would help transform me back into a man only to find that she was a dedicated misandrist. That was putting it mildly. Chastity was a stereotypical man-hating lesbian.

Chastity had zero interest in helping a woman transform into a man, so she had been of no help to me. On the other hand, I had become close friends with Summer, who had helped me adjust to my new life as a woman. As someone who had formerly been male herself, Summer understood what it was like to have her gender magically swapped.

Turning my attention back to Erica, I asked, “Assuming I didn’t imagine the whole thing, what’s the worst case scenario?”

“When it comes to djinn, there’s no floor for disastrous outcomes. As bad as things can get, they can always get worse. I wish you had talked to me before monkeying around with that djinn ring.”

I snorted.

“You wish? Please don’t use that word around me. I’ve had enough wishes to last me a lifetime.”

One wish was too many. Mort had only granted me one. That was how I had ended up with a vagina.

Unwise to the ways of djinn, I had wished to be a woman as a lark, not knowing that Mort could only grant me one wish, in refutation of the common myth that genies granted three wishes to their masters. Like so many things relating to magic, that had come as an unwelcome surprise.

“I’m sure you have,” Erica said. “I’ll look into it, but if I had to hazard a guess, I would speculate that you made a wish come true.”

“What?”

“You went to the djinn dimension and fiddled around with something there that allowed you to change reality here,” Erica said. “According to you, you did that twice. I can’t think of any other way to explain what you described. If you didn’t imagine the whole thing, then I guess you must have tapped into whatever force allows djinn to make wishes into reality.”

After weeks of studying magic under Erica’s guidance, I had eventually figured out a way to transform back into a man. The problem was that when Mort had granted my wish and transformed me from a man named David Rodriguez into a woman named Kelly Rodriguez, he hadn’t simply changed my sex. Mort had completely altered reality so I had been born a girl and spent my entire life as one. No one remembered David, they only remembered Kelly. So as David, I had no identity in the world Mort had created.

Out of desperation, I had figured out a way to travel to the djinn world using the gateway Mort used to travel between dimensions, an artifact that had taken the form of a ring. I had thought the ring was a gateway to an infinite number of realities, and I thought I had figured out a way to switch out the reality in which I had always been Kelly for one in which I had always been David.

But after all that, I found that life as David wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as life as Kelly. Kelly had friends who cared about her, including a boyfriend who was crazy about her, while David was a lonely loser who had still been a virgin at the age of twenty-two.
Missing my my life as a woman, and my boyfriend Johnny in particular, I had used the djinn ring one last time to switch out reality and return to the world where I had always been Kelly before saying goodbye to Mort and tossing the ring into the ocean.

Or so I thought. Erica was skeptical. She believed me when I told her that I had mixed an elixir that could turn me into a man. She thought that was within my abilities. After all, she had helped me learn magic by selling me various books on the subject. It was all that business about traveling to the djinn dimension and altering reality that she found difficult to accept.

Maybe she was right. Maybe I had imagined the whole thing. Maybe all of this hocus-pocus stuff had driven me insane. Maybe I was in a padded cell somewhere imagining all of this.

Whatever the truth of the matter, there was only one option left to me.

“I’m just going to go with the flow,” I said.

“What?” Erica asked.

“Ever since I found that stupid ring and met Mort, my life has been a weird topsy-turvy carnival ride,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s real. And I don’t care anymore. I’m just going to go with it. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an extremely lucky young woman with a great group of friends, an awesome boyfriend, and a bright future. I don’t care about genies or witches or alternate realities or magic unicorns. I’m just going to take life as it comes at me.”

“A sensible choice,” Erica said. “Especially given that there’s nothing else you can do.”

“Exactly,” I said. “That said, any information you can dig up would be appreciated. I’d still like to know exactly what I did.”

“Of course. But I can’t imagine I’ll be seeing as much of you now that you’ll be starting law school. I’m sure that will keep you too busy to study magic.”

I shrugged.

“Don’t be so sure about that. That genie introduced me to a whole world that I never even knew existed. If this is Wonderland and I’m Alice, I intend to find out how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

Erica grinned mischievously.

“Kelly, my dear, you should know by now that, in this Wonderland, rabbit holes are the least of your worries.”

Chapter Two

“I am not saying you’re moving too fast,” Ashley said as she lay on my bed watching me pack some of my clothes into a duffel bag. “All I’m saying is that it has been a while since you were in a relationship, and maybe it’s going to take time to get used to being in one again.”

Ashley was my best friend and one of the three roommates with whom I shared a townhouse. I had moved in with the three of them after answering an ad for a roommate back when I was still a man, although I hadn’t been on very good terms with them before my transformation into a woman. The girls had been so desperate for someone to help them pay the rent after their last roommate had left that they had accepted the first person to respond to the ad. I was pleased to find that I got along much better with them as a woman.

Like me, Ashley was a slim Latina with dark hair and tan skin, except she was several inches taller and her curves weren’t nearly as pronounced as mine. Her prominent butt was nothing to be ashamed of, but I had her outgunned with my 32DD chest. She worked as a beautician and had a tendency to wear heavy makeup, but Ashley’s skills with cosmetics were so good that I trusted her to do my makeup when we had a girls’ night out. At the moment, Ashley was dressed modestly in a pair of flared denim pants and a scarlet blouse with a boat neckline, but she always did herself up like a high end runway model for a night out.

“It’s not like you to beat around the bush, Ash,” I said as I placed a cute fuchsia negligee in the duffel bag. “Go ahead and say what you’re thinking. I’ve been a total slut for so long that I’m clueless when it comes to doing more with a guy than fucking and forgetting him.”

Ashley glanced off to the side and said, “You said it, Kelly, not me. But since you did say it, let’s talk about that. How long has it been since you broke up with your college boyfriend?”

“I caught Paul in bed with another girl at a frat party four years ago when I was a freshman, if that’s what you mean by ‘broke up.’ Personally, I think of it less as a break up and more like a life-shattering moment that crippled my soul. And you’re right, I gave up on relationships after that and only hooked up with guys for fun.”

And Kelly had a lot of fun after her relationship with Paul had ended. Those events had occurred years before my transformation into Kelly, but I had gained all of Kelly’s memories. Before dating Paul in college, Kelly had only been with two other boys. I had gone through Kelly’s memories several times to try and count up the number of sex partners she had slept with after Paul and could only come up with a rough estimate.

As David, I had been a virgin until the day of my transformation into Kelly. As Kelly, I was a very experienced girl. Although a virgin, I had watched a lot of porn as David, and I could safely say Kelly had done everything I had seen in porn at least once, and that she had also done a lot of things I had never seen in porn.

After my transformation into Kelly, I had made a concerted effort to abandon my former life of wanton promiscuity. It had not been easy, but after a rough start, I had gradually embraced a life of monogamous sexuality with my boyfriend Johnny. The world was filled with a lot of temptation for a nubile young woman like me, but I had been a good girl since getting together with Johnny, and it was much more rewarding than a life of meaningless sex with a constantly changing lineup of men.

“Being in a relationship isn’t like riding a bicycle, sweetie,” Ashley said. “If you’ve been out of practice for a while, you may need to take some time to get used to it again. It may be a good idea to ride around with training wheels before you pop a wheelie with Johnny, especially since you spent a long time riding a lot of other bicycles before getting together with him.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re mixing up your metaphor,” I said as I zipped up my duffel bag and dropped it on the floor of my room before sitting down on my bed next to Ashley. “Secondly, I’ve been riding Johnny for a while and I’ve already popped a few wheelies with him. I’ve ridden on his handlebars, we’ve done the track stand, the bunny hop, and, yes, even a front flip. I’m confident in my ability to handle this bicycle.”

Ashley shot me a sidelong glance and said, “Are those bicycle stunts or sex positions, girl? Never mind. I’m sure for you they’re both. Look, my point is that you don’t want to confuse the excitement that comes with getting into a new relationship with the feeling you get when you’ve fallen head over heels in love with someone. The longer you’ve been out of a relationship the easier it is to confuse the two once you finally get back into one.”

“I know what it feels like to be in love,” I said in a tone filled with more confidence than I felt.
I didn’t want to admit it, but Ashley had a point. Kelly had only fallen for three guys in her life before Johnny, and all three of them had broken her heart. As David, I had never been in love, had never even been in a relationship. Or had sex. Yet, despite my inexperience with love, I was more confident about the fact that I was in love with Johnny than I had ever been about anything else in either of my lives, as Kelly or David.

To deflect from my insecurity, I said, “What makes you such an expert on love, Ash? You’ve only been with one guy in your life and you gave up on men when he left you.”

I immediately regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Ashley had shared with me that she had ever only been with her high school sweetheart. They had planned to get married after graduating. In their senior year, the two of them had a fight over one of those stupid things only teenagers can get upset about, and although they got back together after a couple of weeks, Ashley’s boyfriend had hooked up with another girl in that time. Just before graduation, her boyfriend found out he had gotten the other girl pregnant. It was a difficult choice, but Ashley’s boyfriend had left her to help raise his child with the other girl. That had been almost six years ago and Ashley had been practically celibate since then. She had occasionally dated men or enjoyed a brief fling, but she had never been able to get over her distrust of men to get into another relationship.

Ashley put her hand on mine.

“I never claimed to be an expert on anything but hair, makeup, and doing nails,” Ashley said. “But I care about you, Kelly, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

My heart nearly melted. I gave Ashley a hug.

“Oh, here I am being an absolute bitch, and you’re still so sweet to me,” I said wrapping my arms around her. “I wish you were a boy, Ash, I would totally marry you.”

Ashley giggled.

“Bitch, please, if I were a boy, you would just be one more notch in my belt.”
I giggled, too.

“I love you, Ash,” I said. “Okay, I’m heading over to Johnny’s place now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you, too, sweetie. Go on, get out of here. Go be with your man.”

As I picked up my duffel bag and made my way down the stairs to the garage under the townhouse, I took a moment to appreciate how lucky I was. This was why I was glad I had become a woman. Men didn’t have relationships with one another as strong as the ones women shared. I had never had a friend like Ashley when I had been David, and I was grateful to be a woman if only to have a friend like her.

In the garage, I opened up the trunk of my Toyota Corolla and slipped my duffel bag inside. After closing the trunk, I looked over the back of my car. It was identical to the car I had driven when I had been David, except I now had a license plate frame and two bumper stickers on the rear of the vehicle that had not been there when I had been a man. The license plate frame said, “Out of the way, princess coming thru!” One bumper sticker read, “Back off, you can’t ride my ass unless you buy me a drink first!” The other bumper sticker read, “Whores spit, good girls swallow.” I had initially been mortified to find those additions to my car immediately after my transformation, but I now wholeheartedly agreed with their sentiments.

I got into my car and pulled out of the garage. I drove to Johnny’s place filled with the same sense of elation I felt whenever I knew I would be seeing him soon.

Although adjusting to life as a woman had been difficult at times, accepting a sudden attraction to men had come relatively easily. To begin with, I didn’t have a choice. After I became Kelly, I instantly discovered that sexual attraction is dictated by body chemistry. I found myself physically uninterested in women and aroused by the mere sight of young, attractive men. It was impossible to resist the automatic response. My new body also came with a healthy libido that filled me with an irrepressible compulsion to satisfy my physical needs.

My sex drive was so intense that on my second night as a woman, when the girls took me out to a nightclub, I went home with a man I had just met. Granted, I had a few glasses of liquid courage to help set aside my my inhibitions, but looking back I probably would have gone home with him even if I’d been stone cold sober.

I later regretted that one night stand, but not because I had any reservations about the fact that I was now a heterosexual woman with a woman’s natural desires, but only because he had been a selfish lover who had failed to satisfy my needs. On the bright side, that unsavory experience had convinced me to give up Kelly’s promiscuous lifestyle and pursue a serious relationship.

I smiled. That was how I had landed Johnny, the man of my dreams. I had met him soon after becoming a woman and, with Ashley’s prodding, had fought the impulse to immediately sleep with him. We dated for a few weeks before getting physical, and in that time we had the opportunity to learn about one another and discover that our mutual attraction was more than merely skin deep. When I finally did make love with Johnny, the experience blew my mind. I had never imagined sex could be that amazing.

I pulled my car into the underground parking garage of a large residential complex. Johnny owned a condo upstairs. After I parked my car and took out my duffel bag, I took the elevator to his floor.

I knocked on the door to Johnny’s place. When the door opened, a six-foot-tall Latin man stood before me dressed in a pair of boot cut jeans and a gray long sleeve fitted v-neck shirt. He had a thick head of black hair parted to one side, a few loose locks casually cascading down along the edge of his forehead. His tight-fitting shirt revealed broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and rock hard pecs. His skin boasted a rich honey bronze complexion. I gazed at his face and found a pair of almond-shaped eyes that were a deep amber hue set along broad cheekbones and a sharp chin. Those eyes exuded a simmering intensity yet somehow softened his rugged features. To sum it all up, Johnny was smoking hot.

I smiled at Johnny, dropped my duffel bag, and leapt onto him.

“I missed you, babe!” I squealed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso.
I was so tiny and Johnny was so strong that he was able to pick me up effortlessly in his arms. He held my body against his as our lips met and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. I grew warm between my legs as I massaged Johnny’s tongue with my own and ran my hands over the hard muscles of his body. I wanted to feel him inside me so badly.

To my annoyance, Johnny pulled his face away from mine and said with a grin, “Honey, I need to get some oxygen before I suffocate.”

“You’d rather breathe than keep kissing me?” I asked. “You need to get your priorities in order, mister.”
Johnny put me down inside his living room and I craned my neck up to look at him as he grabbed my duffel bag out of the hallway and then closed the door. It was such a turn-on to see his massive frame towering over me.

“And to think I was almost expecting you not to show,” Johnny said as I slipped my arms around his waist.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you,” I said.

“I’m sure you’d break any horse that tried,” he said.

“Damn straight,” I said. “But as much as I’d like to hop into the bedroom right now and show you how hard this cowgirl can ride a bucking stallion, I did promise to make you dinner.” I stroked the stiff bulge protruding from the crotch of Johnny’s pants and added, “Dessert is going to have to wait until later.”

Johnny rolled his eyes at me.

“What a tease,” he whined.

I raised one eyebrow and said, “Well, maybe I’ll grab an appetizer.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll nibble on some sausage.”

I dropped to my knees. I yanked Johnny’s pants and boxer shorts down around his ankles. A bolt of excitement shot out from between my legs and ran up my spine as my eyes fell on Johnny’s massive erection.

There were a lot of things I loved about Johnny. His intelligence, his warmth, his easy good looks. But nothing made my heart flutter like his big cock. The flesh of his manhood was smooth, a shade darker than the complexion that adorned the rest of his body. Even when his dick was soft (and I rarely ever saw it soft), it was long and plump. When his dick got hard (and it usually was when I was around), it was like the chiseled forearm of a weightlifter on steroids. Johnny’s cock was a work of art.

I looked up at Johnny with a smile as I leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on the swollen tip of his pecker. Then I wrapped my lips around his cock and ran my tongue around its head. Johnny released a deep-throated groan, like a wild animal growling in anger.

I had incredible skill when it came to giving head. I could use my mouth to keep a man on the edge of bursting for an hour or more if I felt like it. Sometimes, when I was feeling particularly sadistic, I would do just that to Johnny. I would push him to the edge but pullback before he could unleash his semen and slow things down before pushing him back to the edge. It was agony for him. Johnny would beg and plead with me to let him come, and the harder he begged, the longer I forced him to wait.
That was why I loved giving blow jobs. I enjoyed playing the submissive role when it came to sex, but sometimes I yearned to have a little more control. Blow jobs allowed me to experience the best of both worlds. I could get on my knees and submit to my man, but I could also dominate him by controlling the level of pleasure he received.

As much fun as it was to torment Johnny by delaying his gratification, I did have to get dinner started.
I worked the tip of Johnny’s cock aggressively with my tongue and my lips. A lot of girls will use their hands to speed up a guy when they’re in a hurry, but I’ve never been one to cut corners. Using anything but my mouth when giving head is cheating.

Johnny grunted and held his breath. He was trying his best to hold it in. His best wasn’t good enough. Once his cock was in my mouth, I was in control.

Less than five minutes after I had started on Johnny, he howled as if in pain and his cock writhed in my mouth. He unleashed a stream of his manly fluids, filling my mouth with a pleasant warmth. He spurted a few more times, each successive spurt weaker than the one that had come before. I savored the taste of his semen. It had a salty-sweet flavor. I had sucked enough cock so that I could appreciate how lucky I was to be with a man with such flavorful juices. I swallowed his seed greedily.

Johnny let out a lungful of air then plopped onto the nearby couch without even bothering to pull up his pants.

He muttered, “I can’t believe how good you are at that.”

I looked at him as I ran my tongue over my lips.

“Yummy,” I said. “Well, you fed me, so it’s only fair that I feed you. I’ll go ahead and get dinner ready, although I can’t promise you it will be as good as what you just served up.”

Johnny pulled up his pants and I left him as he began watching a baseball game in his living room. I went into the kitchen and pulled out two cuts of beef ribeye I had purchased the day before and left in his fridge. I prepared them medium rare and put together some butternut squash, string beans, and a pair of baked potatoes for sides.

I hadn’t known a damn thing about cooking as David, but as Kelly I had spent a lot of time helping my mother in the kitchen as a young girl and she had taught me everything she knew about cooking. I had initially just considered my new ability to cook to be handy, but I had since grown to relish the skill. Cooking was not only an enjoyable hobby, making a meal for others was a rewarding experience, especially when it came to cooking for my boyfriend. I liked to spoil my man.
I set the plates on the dinner table then grabbed a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of Merlot from the fridge.

As I filled the wine glasses, I called out to Johnny, “Babe, dinner is ready.”

Johnny walked up to the table and took a seat. We began eating dinner and he took a bite of the steak.
“That’s delicious,” Johnny said.

“Good. So were you. I’m glad I gave as good as I got.”

Johnny laughed.

“Are you excited about tomorrow, honey?” he asked me. “At long last, your first day of law school has arrived.”

I took a sip of wine.

“I’m hesitant. I spent a year working at a law firm after graduating from college and the experience hasn’t left me feeling enthusiastic about the legal profession.”

“Honey, you spent most of that time working as a secretary. Answering phone calls and grabbing coffee for their boss wouldn’t leave anyone feeling enthusiastic. If your time there was really so bad, why did you apply to law school?”

I shrugged.

“I couldn’t think of anything better to do,” I said. “You should know by now that I lack imagination.”

“Hardly. If anything, you have too much imagination. With all the crazy ideas that come out of your head, you could have been a writer. And with your looks, modeling or acting are options. I know you wouldn’t be going to law school if this wasn’t what you really wanted.”

“It’s the best idea I could come up with,” I said. “If I come up with something better, I’ll go with that instead.”

When we were done eating, we cleaned up the table and took the Merlot with us to the living room. I had convinced Johnny to watch a romantic-comedy with me called Fashioning Mr. Right. The movie was about a young woman who worked as a successful fashion designer but whose love life was hopeless. When she found herself invited to a college rival’s wedding, she was driven to ask a random stranger to pose as her boyfriend. Naturally, the two of them couldn’t stand one another but gradually fall in love after a series of hilarious hijinks.

I had hated romantic-comedies as a man, but my view of them had changed dramatically since I had become a woman. They were now far more interesting to me than the formulaic action films I had enjoyed as David. I enjoyed eyeing the stylish outfits the main characters wore, and their struggles with men and romance were relatable. Plus, the leading men were always pleasant to look at.
“Does every woman fantasize about being a fashion designer or something?” Johnny asked during the movie.

“What do you mean?”

“In almost every movie you ask me to watch with you, the main character usually ends up running a clothing store, designing clothes, working as a model, becoming a personal shopper, or doing something else in the fashion industry. What’s the deal with that?”
“Dressing up is more fun for girls than for boys,” I said by way of explanation. “As a guy, getting dressed in the morning means picking out what shirt and pair of pants to wear for the day. And whatever you pick, you can probably wear it to any occasion short of a wedding. As a girl, I have a lot more options. Pants and t-shirt? Blouse and skirt? Jumper? Tights? Dress? If I go with a dress, is it going to be a sheath, strapless, halter, A-line, peplum, gingham, wrap, or something else? Even if I just go with a pair of pants I’ve got dozens of styles to pick from. And of course, certain outfits suit only certain occasions. It takes a lot of fashion savvy and a keen eye to put together an ensemble that works for a range of different settings. It’s a ton of work to get dressed when you’re a girl, but it can be a lot of fun, too. I like getting together with my girlfriends to pick out clothes and mix and match different styles. It’s kind of like playing fantasy baseball or talking about which football players should be traded to which teams. It’s something fun to do with friends. The better you know your stuff, the more people respect your opinion.”

“Guys dream of getting paid to play baseball or football, and girls dream of getting paid to play dress up, is that it?” Johnny said.

“Everybody clings to a dream,” I said.

As the movie credits rolled, I turned to Johnny and said, “Thanks for watching that with me, babe. I know it’s not your cup of tea.”

“It’s fine. I knew watching chick flicks was part of the package that came with having a girlfriend.”
“Good,” I said. “Now I think we can enjoy another part of the girlfriend package that you may find more fun.”

I grabbed Johnny’s hand, stood up, and led him to to the bedroom.

I unzipped my floral print dress and let it fall to the ground. Johnny was quick to yank off my bra and panties. I kicked off my wedge sandals. Once I was completely naked, Johnny picked me up and tossed me onto the bed. He pushed my thighs apart and buried his face between my legs.

I had hit the jackpot with Johnny. It was rare to find a man who enjoyed eating out pussy. It was rarer still to find a man who was any good at it. Johnny was a virtuoso when it came to going down on me.

His lips gently pressed against the flesh of my inner-thighs, planting tender kisses. I gasped as his lips found my womanhood. The warmth of his tongue running over my delicate labia made me moan.
Johnny’s tongue eventually found my clitoris and I writhed as he vigorously manipulated my sensitive little nub. The rapid flicks of his tongue grew more intense as the sensitivity of my clitoris increased. Then, just when I thought I couldn’t bear the physical intensity of Johnny’s oral assault on me any longer, his tongue slipped in between my labia and went to work.

“Oh fuck yes!” I said.

A few minutes later, I shut my eyes as muscles deep in my groin tightened involuntarily. I let out a loud extended roar of delight as my body convulsed. Waves of pleasure shot out from between my legs and coursed over my body. My first orgasm of the evening was so raw and intense that it hurt.

“I love eating out your tiny pussy,” Johnny said.

Thick beads of sweat dripped down my face. I struggled to catch my breath.

“Chow down, babe,” I said absent-mindedly. I was lost in the glow of my orgasm.

Johnny didn’t care. He quickly stripped naked and tossed his clothes in a pile on the ground. Going down on my pussy had gotten his big dick rock hard again. It jabbed out in my direction, as if pointing me out as its next target.

For a moment, I thought he was going to plunge his dick into my womanhood right then and there. Instead, his dick slapped against my tummy as Johnny reached for my boobs with his hands and began massaging them. He wrapped his lips around one of my nipples and began teasing it.

“You want to suck on my big tits, babe?” I asked.

“Yes,” he muttered with a mouthful of one of my boobs.
Like every man I had ever been with, Johnny loved playing with my breasts. I couldn’t blame him. Without a shred of false modesty, I knew my breasts were immaculate. They were big, round, firm, and seemed immune to the pull of gravity. On my tiny frame, my large breasts looked unusually striking. Men loved caressing my boobs, kissing them, licking them, and sucking on them. And I enjoyed it even more than they did.

“You make me so fucking hard,” Johnny said as he fondled my breasts.

“Babe, please put it inside me,” I begged. “I need you inside me. I need it now. Please.”
Johnny nodded.

“You always want it,” Johnny said. “You must be the horniest girl in the world.”

“Damn right. Now give it to me. Make me your woman.”

Johnny took my little ankles in his big hands and raised them into the air. He spread my legs apart and exposed my soaking wet womanhood to his throbbing erection. I felt so vulnerable lying on my back with my tiny slit at his mercy, and I loved that feeling. Johnny positioned himself over me and I felt the familiar sensation of his cock pressing against the lips of my vagina.

I bit down on my bottom lip. This part was always the hardest. I moaned as I felt a sharp pinching sensation between my legs. It was always painful at first. As Johnny pushed himself inside me, my flesh stretched to accommodate his size. It was agonizing. But I welcomed the pain. Even when it felt like I was going to burst, I didn’t want him to stop.

“Oh, fuck yes!” I cried. “It hurts so good, babe! Keep going!”

“I’m trying,” Johnny grunted. “You’re tight as hell down there. I can barely fit.”

“Stick it in!” I demanded.

I groaned as my muscles relented in the face of Johnny’s persistence. As he pulled me open, the sharp pain gave way to intense pleasure. Johnny was pushing against ultra sensitive areas within my body that sent bolts of electricity flowing in every direction.

Johnny suddenly pulled his hips back and drew away. I gasped, afraid he was about to pull out of me. But Johnny stopped just short of withdrawing from the warm embrace of my slit. Then he thrust his hips forward, once again subjecting me to a sharp pain as I stretched apart for him. Johnny thrust in and out of me like a man possessed.

As I screamed in ecstasy, I once again felt grateful to be a woman. As David, I could never have fulfilled the role of a man the way that Johnny did. It was impossible to imagine David satisfying a woman the way Johnny satisfied me. I was so much better off as a woman. Surrendering myself to Johnny, allowing him to take control of me, to use my body to gratify himself, that came naturally. Not only did it feel right, it felt so fucking good. I was never meant to be a man. I was all woman, and always had been where it counted.

I lost count of my orgasms. They came in rapid succession, each more powerful than the last. I twisted and writhed as each one caused my body to convulse in pleasurable delirium.
“Oh yes, babe!” I screamed. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

I didn’t want the pleasure to ever stop. Unfortunately, I eventually felt Johnny’s cock spasm violently within me. My insides filled with a soothing warmth as his semen gushed out of his dick. Although disappointed that this would lead to a break in our lovemaking while Jonny recharged, I was elated to have Johnny fill me with his seed. It made me feel like I belonged to him. I loved that feeling.
I felt Johnny grow soft within me. He pulled out as his manhood diminished in size, although it didn’t become all that much smaller. Then Johnny tossed himself down beside me on the bed, wrapped one of his arms around me, and pulled me against his chest.

“Babe,” I said struggling to catch my breath as I nestled my face against his pecs, “that was amazing.”
“No kidding,” he said. “You are insanely good at this.”

“Practice makes perfect, babe.”

Johnny eyed me suspiciously and asked, “And exactly how much practice did you have before you met me?”

“Babe,” I said, “before you I was an innocent virgin.”

Johnny laughed.

“Glad you gave me the honor of being the one to pluck your flower.”

“No, babe, thank you. You’re free to pluck every flower in my garden.”

A minute or two later, Johnny was fast asleep. I propped myself up on one arm and gazed at him. I ran my fingers through his thick black hair, caressed his chest, and ran a hand down his hard abdominal muscles. Even flaccid, his thick cock looked virile and ready to pounce. I took his manhood in my hand and gently stroked it, careful not to wake him up.

I was so fortunate to have landed Johnny. I allowed myself to indulge in daydreams of our future wedding, of getting pregnant with our first child, of coming home to him for the rest of my life, and of growing old together. I was the luckiest woman in the world.

After a long time, I lay my head on Johnny’s chest, closed my eyes, and dreamt sweet dreams.
Chapter Three

“And the judge looked at the young lawyer and told him that, in the next world you get justice, but in this world you get the law,” Dean Jacqueline Putnam said.

I couldn’t tell if she was joking given the sour expression on her face, but the crowd of law students seated with me in the auditorium at the Pacifica University School of Law erupted in laughter.

Dean Putnam was a diminutive woman with craggy skin the color of flour and curly pale brown hair. She had a perennial scowl on her narrow face, which didn’t improve when she contorted her thin lips into a rigid grimace that was supposed to pass for a smile. Dressed as she was in a red blazer with padded shoulders and an ankle length black skirt, she looked as if she was actively trying to convince people that she was outdated.

As the crowd’s laughter died down, Dean Putnam said, “Hopefully, your first trial will go better. Now I’ve gone on and rambled too long. We will go ahead and break for a reception on the lawn out front before continuing with our orientation today.”

The crowd applauded as Dean Putnam left the stage. Slowly, the assembled law students began making their way out of the auditorium.

“She was so funny,” the girl seated to my right said as I got up out of my seat.

I had met Claudia a few minutes after arriving on campus that morning for the orientation. Along with the rest of the first-year students, I had paced around awkwardly in the lobby outside the auditorium, trying not to look out of place while I waited for the orientation to start. After waking up at Johnny’s place, I had gotten dressed in a light gray jacket and matching pencil skirt with a navy blue blouse, and I felt overdressed around the other law students who had emphasized the casual in the business casual dress code we had been given for the event.

That’s when I had noticed Claudia standing off to one side, wearing a black polyester pantsuit with a lavender button down shirt. She was roughly my height, a curvy girl with flowing black hair and olive skin. I fought against the antisocial impulses that had dominated my personality when I had been a man and forced myself to walk up to Claudia and introduce myself. I was pleased to find that she was friendly and eager to get to know her new classmates.

“Yeah, she’s a funny one,” I replied as we walked out of the auditorium. Then I tried to change the topic of conversation by saying, “By the way, are you staying in the school dorms or do you have a place off campus?”

“Oh, my dad would never let me move into one of the dorms,” Claudia said. “He knows how out of control things can get on a university campus.”

“Yeah, but you’re a grown woman. It’s your decision, right?”

“My family is very old school,” Claudia said. “My parents aren’t okay with their good Christian daughter being surrounded by booze, boys, and other temptations. What about you?”

“I’m kind of already living in sin with my boyfriend, so I don’t need to worry about being tempted,” I said. “I stay over at his place a lot and I’m hoping to move in soon, but for now I’m sharing a townhouse with three other girls.”

“That must be so fun. Having girls your own age for roommates, I mean, not the living in sin part. Having my parents for roommates has its perks, like not having to pay rent, but they can get a little overbearing. Being twenty-two and still having a curfew feels weird.”

“Where did you say you were from again?” I asked.

“I was born in Egypt but I grew up in Fairfield. Talk about culture shock. Not too many other Egyptian kids around there when I was growing up. Everyone thought I was Mexican and random people kept coming up to me and speaking Spanish. Are you Mexican?”

“In a manner of speaking,” I said. “My parents were born in Mexico and came here a few years before I was born.”

“Cool. We’re both the daughters of immigrants. I wonder what else we have in common.”
“I shudder to think,” I said.

Claudia and I walked out onto the lawn, which was a bit of a challenge for me in a pair of black leather pumps with four-inch heels. The lawn was bordered by several tables offering coffee, tea, lemonade, sandwiches, and pastries. I made my way to the table with the coffee and reached for a cup. Before I could grab the cup, a puffy peach-colored hand with neon pink fingernails picked it up.

That hand belonged to a dumpy girl with light brown hair done up in a haphazard bun, prominent rosy cheeks, and vacant blue eyes. The girl was dressed in a loose-fitting mauve corduroy jacket, a green rib-knit turtleneck, and jeans. She was only a couple of inches taller than me but I could see that she was wearing a pair of unfashionable flats, so without my heels she probably stood half-a-foot over me. One glance at this basic bitch was enough to tell me that she was a train wreck.

“Hey, I was reaching for that,” I cried indignantly.

The train wreck looked at me with a little smile and said, “Sorry. Here, take it.”

The train wreck thrust the coffee toward me abruptly, causing some of the coffee to leap out of the cup and splash onto my blouse.

“Fuck!”I cried. The coffee had splashed onto my chest and it was scalding.

“Whoopsie!” the train wreck said as she put down the coffee and began dabbing my breasts with some napkins she picked off the table. “Let me get that for you. Man, I hope that doesn’t leave a stain.”
I grabbed the napkins and pushed her hands away.

“Thanks, but I don’t let anyone squeeze my boobs unless they’ve bought me a drink first,” I said. “I think you burned off a nipple.”

The train wreck laughed.

“Well, you’ve got plenty of boobage there, I’m sure you can spare it.”

As I dabbed the stain with the napkins, Claudia, who had watched the entire scene unfold in stunned silence, said, “Oh my gosh! Are you okay, Kelly?”

I nodded.

“I’ll live…despite this bitch’s best efforts.”

“Wow,” the train wreck said. “Day one and my classmates are already calling me a bitch. This is college all over again. Hey, look, I’m sorry. I’m totally going to make this up to you. My name is Nadine.”
Nadine extended her puffy hand toward me. I glared at her.

Then Claudia reached out and took Nadine’s hand.

“Hi, Nadine. My name’s Claudia. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, a real pleasure,” I muttered.

Nadine got me a fresh cup of coffee, which I reluctantly accepted. I took a seat on a bench at one end of the lawn, and Claudia sat beside me. Nadine hovered over us.

“So what brings you two to law school?” Nadine asked.

“It’s my latest get rich quick scheme,” I said. “If it doesn’t work out, I’m going to try stripping.”
Nadine laughed.

“If I were you, I would have started with stripping. You’ve definitely got the body for it.”
“Gross,” Claudia said. “I think I’d vomit if a bunch of perverts sat around watching me dance in my underwear.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” I said flippantly. “If you strip properly, you’re not wearing any underwear when they watch you dance.”

“What brought you here, Claudia?” Nadine asked.

“My mom and dad expect me to either be a lawyer, or a dentist. I get queasy looking at other people’s mouths. This was really my only option.”

“Cool,” Nadine said. “I’m broadening my horizons. I’ve been working in tech support since I graduated from college a couple of years ago. I thought I had it pretty sweet, chilling at the office with my pals all day, smoking weed at night, partying on the weekends. It was sick. But after I married my husband last year, I felt like I had to think bigger. The coolest chick I ever met was this lesbian attorney who took on cases for LGBTQ people and, like, fought for their rights to love who they love. I thought about it and that sounded like a cool way to devote my time and energy. Like, it’s a noble life path.”
Claudia and I exchanged puzzled glances.

“You applied to law school because marrying your husband made you want to fight for gay rights?” I asked.

Nadine stared at me blankly.

“Sort of. I mean, my husband does investment banking. I don’t completely know what that involves, but he’s a professional. And I thought I should step up and get on the same level instead of just working a job where I slacked off all day with my friends. So here I am, moving up in the world.”

I pulled my phone out of my purse to look at the time.

“Hey, it’s almost time for everyone to head over to their first class for orientation. I better get going.”

As I stood up, Claudia said, “Yeah, I need to be over in Professor Dinwiddie’s torts class. Do either of you know where Spengler Hall is?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I checked the map. That’s my first class, too. We can walk over together.”

I was about to bid a fond farewell to Nadine, when I saw her expression brighten as she said, “No way!
That’s my first class, too! What a coincidence! Come on, let’s go!”

I rolled my eyes as the three of us made our way across campus.

Spengler Hall was an unassuming red brick building designed in an unimaginative neoclassical style. It wouldn’t have been out of place on any university campus. We made our way to our classroom where dozens of other students were quickly filing up seats. I took a seat in the front row with Nadine sitting to my left between me and Claudia.

Claudia and Nadine were chatting idly with one another while I stared absently at the podium at the front of the room waiting for our professor to show up.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice asked.

I turned to my right and saw a guy standing there in creased black slacks and a blue shirt. He was tall, with a slim, athletic build. He had a thick head of blond hair and a pair of green eyes that glistened under the glare of the sun streaming through the classroom’s windows.

“No,” I said, staring at the stranger a little longer than I should have. “Not at all.”

“Great,” he said as he sat beside me. “I’m Dylan. Nice to meet you.”
I shook his hand and said, “Likewise. My name is Kelly.”

“Are you a local or did you move here for school?”

“Oh, I grew up in Chaparral Terrace,” I said. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Tucson,” Dylan said. “Not a long way as the crow flies, but a whole other world.”

Dylan and I chatted in a friendly way for several minutes.

I won’t lie, I was flustered by my conversation with Dylan. As I gazed at him, I grew warm between my legs. There was nothing I could do about it. Like I said, my attraction to men was a biological compulsion. That wasn’t the first time a handsome man had elicited that reaction from me, and it wouldn’t be the last time.

My physical attraction to Dylan wasn’t what bothered me, though. What bothered me was the way I instinctively flirted with him. That was not something I had done with any guy since getting into a relationship with Johnny. Yet despite myself, something about Dylan’s casual approach led me to indulge his overtures. As if, unlike every other man who talked to me, he was just being friendly. I let my guard down around him.

A thin, middle-aged man with close-cropped sandy hair dressed in a blue-striped button-down shirt, khaki pants, and brown wing-tip shoes approached the podium at the front of the classroom. He placed an open notebook on the podium and adjusted his glasses as he peered around the room. The assembled students quieted down and focused their attention on him.

The wiry little man pointed a sharp, claw-like finger directly at me.

“You there, miss, the one in the gray jacket and blue shirt, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Kelly Rodriguez?” I replied. I was caught off guard and it came out sounding like a question.

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” the man said. “Well, are you or aren’t you Kelly Rodriguez?”

Some of my classmates laughed at my discomfiture, including Dylan and Nadine. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Claudia looking at me with an expression of both concern and fear, as if I were being attacked by a stray dog while she looked on helplessly.

“I was the last time I checked,” I said.

“Good enough,” the man declared. “What is a tort, Miss Rodriguez?”

“Uh, that’s like an act that hurts someone.”

“I see. Now, if I were to call you a nitwit, would that constitute a tort?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No?” the man said. “Does it not hurt you to be insulted?”

I shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess it hurts my feelings.”

“And did you not say that a tort is an act that hurts another? By that definition, does a verbal insult not qualify as a tort?”

“Well, I don’t think I could sue you for calling me names,” I said.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Now you claim that you must be able to sue me for an insult to qualify as a tort. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“If that’s the case, would you care to revise your previous definition of a tort?”
I thought about it for a moment.

“I would say a tort is a harmful act that someone can sue you over.”

My interrogator cocked his head to one side, blinked with deliberation, and then nodded slowly.

“Good enough, Miss Rodriguez,” he said. “There are many ways to define a tort. In this class, it is defined as an act or omission that causes a harm, the occurrence of which creates a right to seek a legal remedy before a court of law. I am Professor Dinwiddie and this is torts. What you learn in this class, you will never forget, not as long as you live. I intend to make sure of that.”

I swallowed hard. That was my introduction to law school.

Chapter Four

Orientation ended around noon. Afterwards, I went with Claudia and Nadine to the campus bookstore to buy our assigned textbooks, which were referred to as casebooks in law school because, I suppose, they were filled with excerpts from legal cases. As it turned out, the three of us all had the same class schedule for the semester. I’d be with the two of them in all my classes.

Then Nadine insisted on buying me coffee to make up for the one she had spilled on me earlier. I reluctantly accepted her offer, coming to terms with the reality that fate had thrust this dumpster fire of a human being on me for reasons I would probably never understand. By the time I said goodbye to Claudia and Nadine in the campus parking lot, it was only 2:00 p.m.

I had expected to spend most of the day at the orientation, and I was surprised to find myself free so early. I decided to go to Johnny’s place and wait for him to get home from work. I didn’t have a key to get into his place, but I had my tricks.

I parked my car in the underground garage of Johnny’s complex and took the elevator up to his floor. When I stood in front of the door to Johnny’s condo, I looked around to make sure I was alone. Then I reached into my purse and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a pale yellow powder. I removed the cap on the bottle and squeezed a pinch of the powder between my thumb and forefinger. As I sprinkled the powder over my head, I muttered an incantation in a language that was not normally spoken by humans. I closed the bottle and placed it back in my purse.

Within moments, I felt something akin to a light breeze flow over my body. The sensation only lasted a moment, but after it was over I felt much lighter.

I took a deep breath and extended my right hand toward the door to Johnny’s condo. My hand pressed against the door and then gently pushed through it. The door was undamaged. My hand passed through the door like it wasn’t even there. I pushed the rest of my arm through the door then took a step forward, walking through the door as easily as if it were nothing more than a curtain of mist. An instant later, I was standing in Johnny’s living room.

I smiled. A touch of magic came in handy now and then.

I whispered another incantation in the language I had spoken earlier. That peculiar breeze washed over me again. Then I pushed my hand against Johnny’s door, only this time my hand didn’t go through. I was solid again.

I had been experimenting with the spell for a few days and was having fun with it. Buzzkill that she was, Erica had cautioned me that if the spell was performed improperly, it could lead the user to fade away into nothingness. She made it clear that this wouldn’t lead to death, it would lead to a permanent state of consciousness without form. It was one of several fates worse than death that Erica had brought to my attention since I had begun practicing magic under her tutelage.

Suddenly my attention was drawn to the sound of grunting. It was coming from Johnny’s bedroom. Then I heard a shriek, like someone crying out in anguish.

I dashed down the hall and grew nervous when I noticed some articles of clothing on the ground. Johnny was a neat freak, he wouldn’t leave his clothes lying on the ground like that. Something was wrong.

The door to the bedroom was unlocked and I burst inside. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I entered the room.

A stunning woman with long, flowing platinum-blonde hair and pale skin was straddling Johnny beneath her on the bed.

For a moment, all I could focus on was this woman, I couldn’t even register what she was doing with Johnny. Strange as it sounds, when I first laid eyes on her, I was distracted by her beauty. Her muscles were perfectly toned and she had an hourglass figure that must have drawn the envy of every woman who saw her. And her face was so fair that it would have put most beauty pageant contestants to shame. This woman was inhumanly gorgeous. Her size made a distinct impression, too. Although thin, she possessed an impressive height, with a pair of massive breasts capped with bright pink nipples. She looked almost as tall as Johnny.

My focus on this woman’s looks only lasted for a moment. Then I realized she was fucking my man.

“What the fuck are you doing?!?!?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Johnny looked over at me with an expression of horror on his face. The woman he was fucking turned slightly to look at me, but her hips did not stop thrusting back and forth. She looked at me with an expression of curiosity, but practically ignored me otherwise. She continued bucking up and down on top of Johnny.

“Get off of him!” I demanded as I charged toward the bed.

The mystery woman leapt off Johnny with the alacrity of a trained acrobat. One moment she was riding Johnny like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco, the next she was standing by the bed facing me, as if bracing for an attack.

Johnny also got up, although not as nimbly as the slut he had been fucking. He was completely naked and my blood boiled when I saw his massive erection flopping around. His hard-on was like a smoking gun at a crime scene, blatantly obvious proof of wrongdoing. Staring at his shamelessly swollen member, I grew enraged.

“Honey, wait,” he pleaded, his hands raised up toward me as if asking me to halt my advance.

I didn’t. I charged right toward him and swung my fist at his jaw. I yelped in pain when my knuckles connected with his face. Punching Johnny was surprisingly painful. Yet the effect of my blow was immensely satisfying. Johnny fell to the ground with a loud thump.
Then I turned my attention to the slut. Yes, she was an Amazon. She must have been five-foot-ten, at least. She was an imposing figure, but I didn’t care. I was going to kill this bitch.

Summoning all my remaining strength, I pulled my fist back then drove it forward into the middle of her pretty face. I cried in pain when my fist made contact with her nose. It was like punching a slab of concrete. She didn’t budge in the slightest, or even blink.

I stood there nursing my injured right hand while Johnny writhed on the floor, clutching at his jaw. I was pleased to see his manhood shrivel up as his arousal was no doubt replaced by embarrassment. It was simply unacceptable for Johnny to be hard at a time like this.

“Fuck you!” I screamed. “Fuck you both!”

I gave Johnny a swift kick in the ribs. He grunted in pain. Then I tried to shove the platinum-blonde slut, but I failed to move her by even a fraction of an inch. She was one tough bitch.

Irritated that I

hadn’t been able to inflict as much damage on the slut as I had on Johnny, I stormed out of the condo in fury.

Chapter Five

Several days later, I lay on the couch in the living room of the townhouse I shared with my roommates wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt depicting a tropical island getaway under the caption, “Life’s A Beach.” Those words summed it up pretty well.

It was nearly noon and I was eating a bowl of cereal while binging episodes of my favorite series Starlets, which was about a group of three young women who left their small rural town together to pursue acting careers in Hollywood. I was watching the episode where Cherry found her fiancé cheating on her with a prostitute on the night of her big movie premiere. Cherry lost her shit and stabbed the hooker with a hairpin. I could relate.

After finding Johnny in bed with that platinum-blonde whore, I had been filled with rage. I had made my way to Erica’s magic shop in tears and looked through some of her texts to find spells to invoke spontaneous human combustion, summon demons that fed on human hearts, or inflict horrible diseases on people. I wanted to hurt Johnny the way he had hurt me.

But Erica had talked me down, brewed some tea for us, and given me her shoulder to cry on. Then, ever the pragmatist, she had taught me about a spell that caused incurable impotence. It was the most common spell used by women whose men cheated on them. I had felt much better after casting the spell on Johnny. Best of luck to him trying to fuck that bitch with a limp dick. The spell was reversible but I had no intention of ever reversing the spell.

After my initial anger had subsided, it was replaced by an aching emptiness that consumed me completely. Where my heart had once been, now there was only a gaping void of nothingness. There’s an ominous feeling you get in the pit of your stomach just before you vomit, like there’s something noxious inside you and your whole body wants to expel it as quickly as possible. I had that feeling all the time now, in both my body and mind. There was a darkness clawing away at my insides, and I wanted it out of me so badly. The more I wanted it gone, the more it tore away at me. Slowly, I grew numb to the pain, and to everything else.
I had given myself over to Johnny completely. I hadn’t held anything back. He had been my entire world. My self-image had been centered on him, being his girlfriend had been my identity. My future plans had been built around becoming his wife, becoming the mother of his children. Making him happy had been my life’s goal. Now, whenever I thought about Johnny, I felt a painful sense of loss at the life that had been taken from me. The life I had planned out with Johnny had felt like a dream, and the prospect of a life without him felt like a nightmare.

As I lay on the couch, I grimly reflected on the fact that somewhere inside me there were still some remnants of the semen Johnny had deposited in me the last time we made love. A part of me was disgusted to think that I was carrying any piece of him within me, and I wanted to expel his seed from my body like I might spit out a poison. But another part of me was saddened at the thought that the last physical connection I had to Johnny was slowly deteriorating within me, that I would never again feel the reassuring warmth of his essence flowing within my body.

There was no doubt in my mind that I would never again feel Johnny within me. The memories of my life as Kelly had given me enough experience with men to know that once they cheat on you, they can never again be trusted. I would never take Johnny back after his betrayal, not under any circumstances. It was truly over. That was why it hurt so badly. I knew this was the end.

“Are you still on this shit?” Becky asked as she walked into the living room.

Becky was another one of my roommates. She was a tall redhead who stood five-foot-eight with a seductive svelte physique. As a man, I had stood several inches taller than her, but now that I was a woman with a petite build, she made me feel like a pygmy whenever I stood near her. In typical fashion, Becky was casually dressed in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved white blouse, and a pair of red canvas shoes. Rather than cash in on her looks somehow or go to school to study something worthwhile, Becky worked as an assistant manager at a convenience store. She wasn’t the most ambitious person I had ever met, but I often admired her carefree, hedonistic lifestyle. She was a bon vivant and her only goal in life was to have a good time.

“I thought you were working today,” I said.

Becky shrugged.

“I called in sick. Work sucks. Why are you still moping around over that douchebag?”

“Don’t start with me, Becky. Ashley has already given me the whole speech about how I need to move on. I’ve got a right to feel like shit because the man I loved fucked around behind my back.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve got a right to be a miserable bitch,” Becky said as she plopped down beside me on the couch. “You were way more fun back when you treated men like carnival rides instead of getting all hung up on them. Seriously, what did this guy have that like a million other guys don’t?”

“He had my heart,” I said. “Have you never been in love?”

“Nope,” Becky said. “I love cock, yeah, but I’m not in love with cock.”

“Your loss,” I said.

“Right. I’m not the one sitting around all day crying over some asshole who couldn’t keep his pants zipped up. Can we watch something else?”

“I thought you liked Starlets.”

“I do, but I’ve already watched this episode. Oh, can we watch that reality show about girls who hunt down rich guys to date?”

“You mean Sugar Babies?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I so want to be on that show. I have been trying to land a sugar daddy forever. The closest I ever got was that forty-year-old guy I met online who paid me to take pictures of my feet.”

Disgusted, I rolled my eyes as far back in my head as they would go.

“Why didn’t you marry him?” I asked sarcastically as I handed her the remote control.

Becky pouted and cast her eyes to the ground.

“He found another girl with prettier, younger feet,” she muttered irritably as she yanked the remote out of my hand. “Besides, I don’t think he was that rich. He was an actuary. Do they make a lot of money?”

“I have no idea,” I answered.

Becky started playing the latest episode of Sugar Babies. The show’s opening introduction showed several gorgeous young women in tight, revealing outfits going out to night clubs, hanging out at the beach dressed in bikinis, and taking flights to exotic locations like Rio de Janeiro, Abu Dhabi, and Monaco.

One of the girls filmed walking down the Champs-Élysées in Paris carrying bloated shopping bags stared at the camera and said matter-of-factly, “I’m too beautiful to work some crappy dead-end job. I deserve to have someone pay me for looking this good.”

Another girl shown partying at night clubs in Miami looked at the camera and said, “I suck at school. I’m not smart. The smartest thing I can do is find a guy to pay all my bills for me.”

One girl filmed consulting with a plastic surgeon about breast implants said to the camera, “It’s good business sense to invest in your assets, and my best asset is my body.”

“This show is degrading,” I said.

“That’s the appeal. You’re supposed to look at these girls and pretend like you’re better than them. You’re supposed to feel better about yourself because you’re ‘above that sort of thing.’ But let’s get real, do those girls sit around on their asses wishing they were us? I don’t think so. On the other hand, I would kill to make it onto this show.”

One of the girls on the show who was being interviewed said, “Does it bother me that my boyfriend is forty years older than me? No! Age is just a number! And the only numbers that count are bank account numbers!”

Just then, I received a text message on my phone. I gasped when I saw who it was from.

“Oh my god! Johnny just texted me!”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to crawl back to him,” Becky said.

“Of course not,” I insisted.

I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself rather than Becky.

I looked at the text.

“Kelly, I need to talk to you,” it said.

I thought about deleting the text and blocking Johnny’s number. That seemed like the sensible thing to do. But I wasn’t feeling very sensible.

“Forget it, we have nothing to talk about,” I wrote. “Lose my number, asshole.”

Johnny texted me back, “Please. I’m in trouble and I need help. I think I may have to check into an emergency room or a mental institution.”

Talk about being a drama queen. I had figured the impotence spell would drive Johnny up the wall eventually, but after only a few days he was talking like he was losing his mind.

Good. He deserved that and worse for what he had done.

“Go ask your whore for help,” I texted.

“I made a horrible mistake, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, but there’s something wrong with me and I don’t know what to do,” Johnny wrote.

I sighed. Part of me wanted to see Johnny suffer. Another part of me felt guilty about causing him so much misery. It wasn’t in my nature to enjoy inflicting pain on others.

“I’m going to step out for a bit,” I said to Becky as she continued watching Sugar Babies.

“If you fuck him, I’m going to punch you in the head when you get back,” Becky said as I went upstairs to my room.

I changed out of my sweatpants and slipped into a pair of jeans and some flip-flops. As I made my way back downstairs, I tried to figure out what I was doing. I had no desire to reconcile with Johnny. I was disgusted with him and didn’t want any kind of relationship with him. Yet, despite all that, I felt a sense of obligation toward Johnny. If he could hurt me so callously by cheating on me, it wasn’t as easy for me to hurt him back.

As I got in my car, I wrote to Johnny, “Against my better judgment, I am going over to your place. There is absolutely zero chance we can work past this, but if you have something to say, I will hear you out. Choose your words to me carefully because if you think you have it bad now, I can make your life a true living hell.”

Johnny sent me another text as I drove to his place: “Thank you.”

I found myself hesitating as I stood in front of the door to his condo. It wasn’t too late to turn around and forget about Johnny. He had it coming. But I couldn’t. As much as I hated him for betraying me, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon him.

I knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened slightly and a demure, feminine voice asked, “Kelly, is that you?”

I looked through the narrow opening in the doorway and my blood boiled as my eyes fell on a petite Latina wearing a man’s maroon dress shirt that hung loosely on her like a giant tarp. Her legs were bare and it didn’t look like she was wearing anything under that shirt. She had a thick head of long, silky black hair parted to one side with a few loose locks falling along the edge of her forehead. Her smooth, unblemished skin boasted a rich honey bronze complexion. Her almond-shaped eyes were a deep amber hue and were set along broad cheekbones and a sharp chin. Those eyes exhibited a familiar intensity. I was stunned when I noticed that she was a couple of inches shorter than me, probably standing four-foot-ten. It was rare to meet a grown woman shorter than me. The mystery girl was easy on the eyes and I was not happy to find her walking around half-naked in my ex-boyfriend’s home.

I shoved the door open and said, “Yeah, I’m Kelly! Who the fuck are you?”

I stepped toward the mystery girl with my fists raised. I wanted to make it clear to this girl that I was in no mood for bullshit.

The mystery girl raised her hands up in front of her face as if to shield herself and took several steps back.

“Kelly, wait, don’t hit me again!” she cried. “It’s me, Johnny!”

I stopped in my tracks and lowered my fists. Under ordinary circumstances, I’m not sure what I would have done. Given what had happened to me only a few months before, these were not ordinary circumstances, and her claim didn’t sound all that crazy. I closed the door behind me and glared at the girl.

“Yeah? If you’re Johnny, prove it.”

“Okay,” the girl said. “The night we first made love, when you went down on me, you said my cock tasted like pineapple. Does that sound like something I would share with anyone?”

I looked into her eyes and realized what was so familiar about them.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Did a genie do this to you?”

“Did a what? A genie? Huh?”

“How did this happen to you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said. “I passed out a couple of days ago. When I woke up, I was like this.”

“What do you mean you passed out?”

“I felt tired, really tired, and I just fell asleep. I think. After I got up and saw what had happened to me, I met up with my friend Ian and tried to get him to help, but he thought I was pulling some kind of prank on him. Then I went to visit my sister to ask her for help. She didn’t believe it was me. She got suspicious and thought I had done something wrong. She said she was going to the police to report me missing. For all I know the cops are on their way here now to arrest me for kidnapping myself or something. I didn’t know what else to do, so I messaged you. You’re always talking about crazy stuff like mind control and time travel and conspiracy theories. I was hoping you would have more of an open mind.”

She put her hands over her face and began to sob.

“Oh my god,” she said. “I am so fucked. What am I going to do?”

My rage dissipated. I would never forgive Johnny for cheating on me. But I knew how traumatic it could be to suddenly swap genders. Now wasn’t the time to settle scores.

I stepped up beside the girl and placed my hands on her shoulders.

“Calm down,” I said. “Crying isn’t going to help. Come over here to the couch.”

I escorted the girl to the couch and sat her down. I looked her over as I sat beside her.

“Is that shirt all you’re wearing?” I asked.

“Nothing else fits,” Johnny whined. “When I went out before, I had to fold up my pant legs and punch a new hole in my belt to keep them up. I still had to pull them up every few seconds because they kept sliding down. I looked like a clown. I figured as long as I was alone here, I may as well spare myself that hassle.”

She turned to look at me and said, “Why are you taking this so easily? Everyone else laughed or freaked out. They didn’t believe me. You’re acting like this is nothing out of the ordinary. I guess you’re even more open-minded than I thought.”

I sighed.

“Okay. First, take a deep breath. This is going to sound weird.”

“Kelly,” Johnny said, “I’m a fucking woman. My penis is gone. Where it used to be, I now have a vagina. Weird? I’ve crossed that bridge.”

“A few months ago, I was a man,” I said. “I found a genie who offered to grant me a wish. I didn’t think he was real. As a joke, I made a wish to be turned into a woman. And I ended up like this. I found a psychic who taught me magic and I learned a spell to turn me back into a man, but I decided to stay a woman because I was happier like this. Now here I am. Ta-dah.”

Johnny gave me a blank stare.

“You were born a man?”

“Technically, no,” I said. “See, the genie changed reality and made it so that I was born a woman and lived my whole life as one. No one remembers the old version of reality where I was a man except me.”

“What?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I mean, we met at a sports bar where I schooled you on my superior knowledge of football. You always said I’m not like typical girls. I’m sure this explains a lot.”

She closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her temples.

“I must be sleeping,” Johnny said. “This must be some kind of nightmare. Soon I’ll wake up in bed.”

I grunted.

“Yeah? And who will you wake up next to? Me or that blonde whore I found you fucking?”

“Can we please not get into that just now?” she pleaded.

The Johnny’s eyes opened wide.

“Wait,” Johnny said. “You said you figured out a spell to turn you back into a man. Do you still know that spell? Can you change me back?”

“Maybe. It depends on what caused this. If a genie didn’t do this then some other kind of magic must be…”

I trailed off. A light went on in my head.

“Oh my god,” I said. “I did this.”

I got up from the couch and began pacing back and forth. What had gone wrong? How could I have fucked up the spell?

“Kelly, what do you mean you did this?” Johnny asked.

I stopped pacing and stared at Johnny.

“Look, I caught you fucking that blonde. You hurt me. I died inside. I wanted you to feel the same pain I felt.”

“So you turned me into a woman?” Johnny shrieked.

“No,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know. I cast a spell to make you impotent. It wasn’t supposed to do this. I don’t see how the spell can be responsible.”

Johnny screamed and ran her hands through her long hair.

After a moment, she took several quick, shallow breaths and said, “It’s okay. You put this spell on me. You can lift it, right? You said you can turn yourself into a man again. You can do the same for me, right?”

“Theoretically,” I said. “Magic is a tricky thing. If I fucked up the impotence spell, then maybe it’s not safe to use the physical transformation spell. That’s a hard one. It takes a lot of practice to get it right, and if you don’t do it right you can accidentally turn yourself into an inhuman abomination, or end up dead. I think we should go see Erica for advice.”

“Who the hell is Erica?”

“She’s the psychic who helped me learn magic,” I said. “She runs a magic shop. She doesn’t practice much magic herself but she knows a lot about this shit.”

“Ugh,” Johnny grunted. “How do I know you’re not just fucking with me? How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

I raised up my right hand in front of her face.

“Whoa, asshole, stop right there,” I said. “You’re the one who was cheating on me. You don’t get to call my integrity into question. If you hadn’t cheated on me, none of this would have happened. We’d still be together and you’d still have a penis. In fact, you brought this on yourself. Why am I even bothering to help you? You can deal with this shit on your own. Have fun figuring out how to insert a tampon when you get your period.”

I made my way toward the door. Johnny got up and chased after me.

“Kelly, wait. I’m sorry. This is just a lot to deal with.”

I turned to look at Johnny and saw tears streaming down her face.

“You want proof, Johnny? Okay, here it is.”

I pulled the small bottle of powder out of my purse, recited the incantation, and sprinkled some of the powder over my head. After putting the bottle back in my purse, I walked toward the wall that divided the living room from the bedroom and stepped through it. Then I turned around and stepped back into the living room. I found Johnny staring at me with her mouth open wide.

“What do you say, Johnny? Is seeing believing or what?”

“How did you do that?” Johnny asked.

“Magic powers. I got them.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Johnny said.

I recited the incantation to become tangible again.

“Me too,” I said. “Before we go to Erica’s shop, let’s get you presentable.”

I walked back to the bedroom and found the duffel bag I had brought over a few days before sitting in the corner right where I had left it. I picked up the duffel bag and went back to the living room. I tossed the duffel bag in front of Johnny’s tiny bare feet and opened it. I reached inside and pulled out the floral print dress and wedge sandals I had worn the night I came over to make dinner for Johnny. Then I grabbed the shirt Johnny was wearing and yanked it off.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Johnny exclaimed.

She was completely naked, and for the first time I got a good look at her figure. While she was short like me, Johnny lacked curves like mine. She was lithe with a modest rear end and breasts so tiny she was practically flat-chested. She instinctively cupped her vagina with one hand and covered her chest with one arm.

“Please, bitch, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” I said. Then I looked over her modest figure and glanced at my own impressive chest. “If anything, you have a lot less than what I’m used to seeing.”

Johnny glared at the dress I held out to her.

“You expect me to wear that?” she demanded, still trying to cover herself up as best she could.

“It’s like you said, your old clothes don’t fit and we’ve got limited options.”

“I’m not a cross-dresser,” Johnny said. “Why don’t you wear the dress and give me the t-shirt and jeans you’re wearing?”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” I said as I started walking toward the door again.

“Okay, I’ll wear the fucking dress,” Johnny relented.

“Good girl,” I said with a smirk.

She reached for the dress and began to slip it on over her head.

“Forgetting something?” I said as I held up the bikini-cut panties and bra I had worn with the dress.

“No way,” she said. “I’ll wear the dress and the shoes, but I am not wearing my girlfriend’s underwear. That’s where I draw the line.”

“Ex-girlfriend, bitch,” I said. “Suit yourself. But if a breeze lifts up your skirt you’re going to give everyone around you an eyeful.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Johnny said as she slipped into the dress.

Once she had the dress on, I pulled up the zipper in the back. The dress didn’t look nearly as flattering on her as it did on me. She didn’t have the butt or cleavage to accentuate the outfit’s best features.

Then Johnny put on the wedge sandals.

“How do women walk around in these things?” she said as she ambled around the living room clumsily.

“Just be thankful they’re not heels,” I said.

“Can we go to the magic shop now?” she asked.

I looked her over from head to toe.

“You’re not going to win any beauty pageants looking like that, but it’s better than wearing men’s clothes that hang on you like a potato sack.”

“Thanks,” Johnny said irritably.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

Johnny followed me toward the door. I stopped abruptly and turned to look at her.

“By the way,” I said, “I’m going to call you Jane.”

“Why?” Jane asked.

“Because it’s weird to call you Johnny when you look like that,” I said. “And because it’ll irritate you.”

Jane sighed as she followed me out the door.

Chapter Six

“Uh-oh,” Erica said as Jane and I walked into her magic shop. “Here we go again.”

She was laying out some shiny multicolored stones in a display case near a shelf filled with bizarre-looking statuettes.

“Don’t keep me in the dark, girl,” I said to Erica. “Tell me what you see.”

As Erica continued to lay out the stones, she said, “Your friend looks like a man who had his masculinity stripped away.”

“How do you know I’m really a man?” Jane asked in astonishment.

“I’m psychic,” Erica said.

“You can read my mind?” Jane asked.

“No, I can see your aura,” Erica explained.

“This is Jane,” I told Erica. “Up until recently, she was my ex-boyfriend Johnny. I’m worried I may have accidentally changed Johnny’s sex when I cast that impotence spell.”

Erica chuckled.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Erica said. “I helped you prepare the spell. I saw you cast it. Nothing you could have done would have caused this. Just by looking at Jane I can tell your spell isn’t responsible. Her aura looks like something drained her manhood away.”

“You mean like the way a djinn drains mana?” I asked.

Erica shook her head.

“No. That leaves completely different telltale signs on someone’s aura. I’ve never seen something quite like this. Jane’s aura more closely resembles the aura of someone who has had their blood drained by a vampire.”

“Vampires are real?” Jane asked.

“Don’t get Erica started,” I cautioned Jane. “I think we have our hands full without getting into a conversation about vampires. Erica, do you think I can fix this with a transformation spell?”

Erica finished setting up the stones and closed the display case. She came over to me and Jane and stared at us.

“Maybe,” Erica said. “It depends on what caused this. You know from experience how tricky transformation spells can be, Kelly. I’d hold off on going that route for now. Jane, how did you end up like this?”

Jane sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting tired of rehashing this,” Jane said. “I passed out a couple of days ago. When I woke up, I was a woman.”

Erica placed her hands on her hips and glared at Jane.

“If you want my help, I’m going to need you to be honest with me,” Erica said. “I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time to waste. I can tell from your aura when you lie or hold something back. So come clean. What exactly were you doing just before you transformed?”

Jane looked at me for a moment, then looked at Erica. Jane was visibly anxious about something.

“Fine,” Jane said. “It happened the night Kelly found me in bed with Astrid. I felt awful after Kelly left, so Astrid and I just talked for a while. Then later Astrid wanted to get back to what we had been doing. But by then, I wasn’t able to get…intimate with Astrid. She tried everything she could to get me…you know. But it just wouldn’t happen. I guess Kelly’s impotence spell worked just fine. Astrid got upset and left. Not long after that, I passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was like this. There. That’s what happened.”

Hearing Jane recount what had happened that night caused my rage to resurface. But I kept it at bay. I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.

“Hmmm,” Erica murmured. “Interesting. It doesn’t sound like there was a problem with the impotence spell. I just don’t see how making you impotent could have drained you of your masculinity or physically transformed you into a woman. It’s a mystery. How well do you know Astrid?”

Jane shot me another glance, as if fearful about how I would react.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” I said to Jane. “You wanted my help, well, here it is. Tell Erica what she wants to know.”

“I met her last week,” Johnny said. “Astrid is an interior designer. My boss hired her to redecorate his office. We talked for a few minutes at work. One thing led to another and…let’s just say that mistakes were made.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about her?” Erica asked.

“Unusual?” Jane said. “As in what? Did she use to be a man? Does she cast spells? Does she hang out at secret magic shops? The bar has been raised on unusual recently.”

“There’s nothing secret about my shop,” Erica said. “It’s one of the top results when you run a search online. I’m just asking if anything stood out about her.”

“Not that I noticed,” Jane said.

“Bullshit,” I said. “You certainly noticed her supermodel body. I saw you enjoying it with my own eyes. And I noticed that bitch was built as hard as a linebacker. I knocked you to the ground with one punch, but hitting her was like punching a brick wall. I’d file that under unusual.”

“Maybe,” Erica said. “I don’t see how Astrid being stronger than average could explain Jane’s gender swap. I’d say a transformation spell is worth a try, although I’m always reluctant to recommend fiddling with any magical change unless you can explain the cause.”

Jane turned to me and gripped both my shoulders with her hands. She gazed into my eyes with a desperate expression on her face.

“Kelly, please, I’m begging you, try the transformation spell,” Jane pleaded. “I’m sorry about what I did, but I don’t want to stay like this.”

I removed Jane’s hands from my shoulders and pushed her back a couple of steps.

“Calm your tits, bitch,” I said. “Being a woman isn’t some sort of death sentence. If you try it out for a while, you’ll probably prefer it. Look, I’ll do the transformation spell, but not because you’re getting your panties in a bunch over this. When I was transformed, it was because I wished for it. Granted, I was drunk off my ass at the time, but I did wish for it. And the genie who granted my wish had the presence of mind to alter reality so no one thought there was anything strange about the fact that I had become a woman. You didn’t ask for this. And reality sure as hell hasn’t changed, so sooner or later the police are going to come looking for you, and we’re going to have to come up with some creative answers to their questions. You’re not worth that hassle. I’m going to do the spell because it’s just easier for everybody.”

Jane nodded.

“Got it.”

“Good,” I said. “Now give me your bankroll.”

Jane handed me a thick wad of cash. After realizing her family and friends weren’t going to believe what had happened to her, Jane had withdrawn as much cash as she could out of her bank accounts on the assumption that she would soon lose access to them. That had been a prudent move.

“Erica, load me up on ingredients for a transformation spell,” I said.

Erica looked at Jane.

“These supplies don’t come cheap and there are no refunds,” Erica said. “It’s your money. As long as you’re fine with that, I’ll go ahead and provide Kelly with what she needs for the spell.”

“It’s fine,” Jane said.

As Erica walked around her shop grabbing ingredients off the shelves, Jane said, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Why did you name your shop Madam Zolga’s Occult Science Academy? It’s not a very catchy name from a marketing standpoint.”

As she searched for ingredients, Erica said, “I used the word ‘academy’ because I wanted potential customers to know that they could learn to practice magic here. And I used the phrase ‘occult science’ because when I used the word ‘magic’ in the store’s name, I had people showing up here looking for books on card tricks, linking ring sets, whoopee cushions, joy buzzers, and top hats with rabbits hidden in them. Do you think you could have come up with a more marketable name?”

“How about Spell It Like It Is?” Jane suggested.

“Or Trick Shot,” I offered.

“Cast Away,” Jane added.
I said, “Spells ‘R’ Us.”

The two of us blurted out more suggestions.

“Magic Is In The Air.”

“Tricks of the Trade.”

“Rest A Spell.”

“Wicca-pedia.”

“Through the Looking Glass.”

“The Gift of the Magic.”

“Every Witch Way.”

“The Crystal Ballroom.”

“The Wizard’s Wand.”

“A Touch of Magic.”

Erica smirked.

“Cute,” Erica said. “Your last recommendation had a nice ring to it, Kelly. A Touch of Magic. It sounds tasteful. Here’s everything you’ll need for the spell.”

Erica laid several jars, boxes, and vials out on the counter beside the cash register. She rang us up and told us the total charges. Jane’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, magic doesn’t come cheap,” I said.

I pulled out several bills from Jane’s bankroll and handed them to Erica. Jane’s bankroll was much smaller after Erica had been paid.

Chapter Seven

As I drove back to Jane’s place with her, I said, “I’m going to ask one more time. Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“For the last time, yes,” Jane said. “I don’t care if I end up turned into a toad or turned inside out. I’ll take my chances and absolve you of all liability for whatever happens to me.”

“All right,” I said. “As long as you understand the risk.”

I didn’t think Jane could understand the risk. She didn’t know a damn thing about how magic worked. When I had begun learning transformation spells to become a man again, I had experimented on rabbits. Some of my first efforts had resulted in hideous abominations, unrecognizable masses of wriggling fur and flesh. The lucky experiments had died quickly. I had been compelled to euthanize the unlucky few that hadn’t immediately died. My spell casting skills had improved considerably since then, but when it came to magic, there was a lot of room for error.

As we pulled up to Jane’s residential complex late in the afternoon, I noticed two police cars parked outside on the street. I pulled over to the side of the road before getting too close to the complex’s main entrance.

“It looks like your sister followed through on her threat to call the cops,” I said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Jane said. “They could be here for something completely unrelated to me.”

Jane made a good point. And it gave me an idea.

“We should find out what they’re up to,” I said.

“How?” Jane asked.

I reached into my purse for the glass jar full of powder.

“Do exactly what I say,” I told Jane as I sprinkled some of the pale yellow powder onto her head.

After I sprinkled some of the powder over myself, I spoke an incantation different from the one I had used earlier.

“What did you do to me?” Jane asked nervously.

I pointed to the vanity mirror and said, “Take a look.”

Jane peered into the mirror.

“I don’t see anything. Holy shit. I don’t have a reflection.”

“I cast a cloaking spell to make both of us invisible and intangible,” I explained.

“If you’re invisible, why can I see you?” Jane said. “And why can you see me?”

“Because I cast the spell on both of us. We can see each other, but no one else can.”

I pushed through the driver-side door and stepped out of my car. I walked over to the passenger-side and motioned for Jane to join me.

Jane wore an expression of fascination on her face as she made her way through the car door and stood beside me.

“Weird,” Jane said. “If we’re intangible, how are we able to breathe the air? What keeps us from falling through the Earth’s surface? How are we able to move with the Earth as it revolves around the sun? How can we speak and hear one another if…”

“Jane, there are perfectly rational scientific explanations for all those questions,” I said. “But right now, we have more immediate concerns.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Just follow me and don’t touch any mirrors,” I said. “If you do, that’ll either cause the spell to wear off or transport you to another dimension. I’m not sure exactly.”

“Is that a joke?” Jane asked.
I shook my head.

“No.”

Jane and I walked past the two police cars and made our way to the complex’s main entrance. The doors were part of a glass façade and could only be opened by swiping a key card over a scanner or inputting a password at a small terminal. I just stepped through the door and Jane followed me. We went up the building’s stairs to Jane’s floor.

There was a uniformed police officer standing in the hallway outside Jane’s door. He looked to be standing guard. Behind him, the door to Jane’s condo was open and we could hear people talking inside.

Jane pointed to the cop outside the door and said in a whisper, “Can he hear us talk?”

“Not unless he has an enchantment in place for that express purpose,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “But don’t touch anyone. If you run your hand through someone, it’ll give them a weird sensation. You don’t want to spook anyone.”

Jane followed me as I stepped around the cop and entered the condo.

We found two more uniformed police officers standing in the living room with a middle-aged black man with close-cropped hair wearing a charcoal suit, blue shirt, and silver tie. The man in the charcoal suit had a badge on a leather pad displayed on his belt. Beside the badge was a holster with a pistol tucked inside.

One of the officers said to the man in the suit, “The building superintendent let us in about an hour ago. We talked to one of the neighbors who said she hasn’t seen the owner in days, not since she overheard a fight between the owner and his girlfriend. The girlfriend stormed out of here looking upset, and the neighbor saw a tall blonde woman she didn’t recognize leave later that night. Just before we got here, the neighbor says she saw the girlfriend show up again and leave with another female who has been seen around the property since the fight. The girlfriend is a black-haired Hispanic female about five feet tall and was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and flip flops when she left. The other woman is also a black-haired Hispanic female, slightly shorter, and was wearing a dress with a floral pattern when she left with the girlfriend. The second female matches the description that the family member gave us of the woman who approached her claiming to be the missing person.”

Jane and I exchanged anxious glances.

The man in the suit said, “Are there any surveillance cameras that may have recorded footage of these people entering and exiting the premises?”

The officer nodded.

“Several. The superintendent is pulling the footage now. The neighbor says the girlfriend’s first name is Kelly and she’s been seeing the missing person for months. She doesn’t know anything else about the girlfriend. We’ve reached out to the family member for more information about the girlfriend.”

The man in the suit looked around the condo.

“No signs of a break-in or of a struggle,” the man in the suit observed. “Let’s take another look around then get out of here. We’ll leave a patrol car to wait for the mystery woman to return, then talk to her. For now, I want to find the girlfriend and talk to her. This sounds like it could all just be some lover’s quarrel, and I don’t want to get too carried away at this point.”

I looked at Jane and said, “I’d say this is definitely about you.”

“Okay, you were right,” Jane said. “It’s only been a few days. I didn’t think the police moved this quickly.”

“Let’s head over to my place and complete the spell,” I said. “I don’t want to be the prime suspect for a murder that never happened. The sooner you can meet up with the police and tell them you’re fine, the sooner we can put this behind us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jane said.

We left the condo and made our way back downstairs. Once both of us were standing beside my car, I spoke the incantation to reverse the spell. Then we got in my car and I drove home.

Chapter Eight

“What language is that you’re speaking when you cast spells?” Jane asked as I drove home. “I thought it was Latin when you first spoke it, but that doesn’t sound like Latin or any language I ever heard.”

“It’s an ancient Elvish dialect,” I said. “Humans learned a lot about magic from Elves. Even when humans began making their own spells, they used Elvish to make them. Most magic practitioners use some form of Elvish to cast spells. It’s like a common language for them the way Latin used to be for scientists and philosophers in Europe.”

“I need to learn to stop asking questions,” Jane said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you used to be a man. I always knew there was something different about you. You didn’t think like a typical hot girl or act like one. You knew way too much about football and you acted like a nerd who read too many science-fiction stories and went to too many comic book conventions. I thought it was awesome to meet a gorgeous girl with the same interests I had. I never imagined you were that way because you used to be a guy just like me.”

I glowered at Jane.

“And if you had known I used to be a man, would that have changed how you felt about me?” I demanded.

Jane was silent for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” she said. “I thought you were the perfect girl. Brains and beauty, a sense of humor, and great in bed. You’re the whole package. I don’t think I could have walked away from that, even if I had known you used to have a penis.”

Jane’s answer evoked some mixed feelings in me. On the one hand, I was relieved that knowledge of my sex change didn’t change the way Jane felt about me. On the other hand, given what had happened, that claim lacked credibility and I was upset that she could think I was so gullible.

“You did walk away from this, asshole,” I said. “I loved you. I wanted to marry you and raise kids with you. And you threw that all away by crawling into bed with some random slut you just met. So spare me your bullshit.”

Beside me in the passenger seat, I could hear Jane whimpering. I glanced over at her and could see tears sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t understand what happened,” Jane said. “I’ve never been as happy as I was when I was with you. Everything was perfect. Something came over me when I met Astrid. There was nothing special about her, but for some reason I was drawn to her. I didn’t want to get involved with her. I regretted it even as it was happening. I knew it was a mistake. I wanted to stop. I just couldn’t. I don’t understand why. It was like I was drunk or something. I’d give anything to take it back. I wish I had never met Astrid.”

“Do not use that word around me,” I said. “Wishing never helped anyone. And one wish can fuck up your life like you can’t imagine. Don’t bother trying to earn my sympathy. I’m close to tossing your ass on the side of the road and letting you figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.”

Jane sniffed and tried to get her sobbing under control.

“You’re right,” she said. “I fucked up and I have to live with that.”

We drove the rest of the way to the townhouse in tense silence.

I parked in the garage below the townhouse and led Jane up the stairs into the kitchen. I looked around the townhouse and was glad to find that my roommates were gone. I didn’t want to have to come up with an explanation for who Jane was or why she was there. We continued up the stairs to my bedroom on the second floor.

I instructed Jane to sit down at my desk and keep quiet. Then I grabbed the ingredients we had bought from Erica and carefully mixed them in the bathroom attached to my room. I put together a noxious concoction, a luminous green fluid that emitted an eerie glow, and poured it into a cup. I carried the potion back into my bedroom and set it down on my desk.

“In a moment, I’m going to cast the spell and have you drink that,” I told Jane. “Listen to me carefully. That is the most vile goop you will ever drink, but once you start drinking it, you must swallow every last drop. Once I recite the incantation, you need to focus on your physical male form. You cannot let your mind wander or think about anything else. If the spell works, you will go through an agonizing physical transformation. Your body will be reshaped as if it were made of clay. And it will hurt like fuck. Any questions? And I remind you that you haven’t received a pleasant answer to a single question you’ve asked me all day.”

Jane shook her head.

“No questions. Let’s get this over with.”

“Good,” I said. “Take off my dress. I like it and I don’t want you to ruin it when you transform. There’s an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants in the closet you can wear if this works.”

Without a word of protest but with a forlorn look on her face, Jane removed the dress and took off the wedge sandals she had borrowed from me.

I couldn’t help but notice how Jane’s new body contrasted with her old one. Whereas her male body had been a gigantic mass of beautiful hard muscles, her female body was delicate and graceful. It was unmistakably feminine, but it was so frail that it looked more like the body of an adolescent girl just beginning to blossom into womanhood than it did like the body of a fully developed adult woman. I had salivated at the mere sight of Jane’s male body. While I could appreciate the beauty of Jane’s feminine form, I found nothing about it physically attractive. She had nothing that interested me.

I recited the incantation for the transformation spell.

“Go ahead and drink the potion,” I commanded Jane.

She dutifully reached for the potion and poured it into her mouth. From the expression on her face, I could tell she found the potion as nauseating as I had. There was no doubt that she was motivated to become a man again because she drank the entire potion in one gulp. It took extraordinary desperation to do that.

When she was done drinking the potion, Jane put the cup down on the desk and gave me a blank stare. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then she shrieked as her flesh rippled like a pool of water into which someone had tossed a stone. She grabbed her sides and bent over. Jane screamed and fell to the ground. I took a few steps back. She writhed on the ground and continued screaming as her body contorted in unnatural ways.

Jane’s arms and legs lengthened momentarily before suddenly retracting. Her small muscles swelled up to several times their size before deflating again. Her hair receded into her scalp and grew short before returning to its impressive length. A large fleshy appendage stretched out from between her legs for a few seconds, then shriveled away into nothingness.

Something was wrong.

Jane tossed and turned on the ground for nearly a minute, screaming in agony the entire time. Finally her body stopped rippling and she lay still. I could tell she was still alive because I could hear her taking quick breaths, as if hyperventilating. Her physical form remained unchanged.

I fell to the ground beside Jane.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Can you hear me?”

Jane mumbled in a small voice, “What…the fuck…did…you…do to me?”

Chapter Nine

I read through the text carefully. There had to be an explanation. I had done the spell correctly. Somewhere in the small library of magic books I owned there had to be an answer.

Jane appeared to be physically fine after the failed spell. She was exhausted and was sleeping in my bed while I searched through my books. I had thought about taking her to the hospital, but doing that would have created too many complications. Jane had no health insurance, no social security number, no identification, no legal existence. And the police were looking for her. Putting all that aside, what could a hospital do for her? They didn’t have any treatments for botched transformation spells or unexplained mystical sex changes.

I was reading a text on the history of sorcery in North America. All the books I had on performing transformation spells confirmed that I had carried out the spell correctly. I was trying to learn about the nature and mechanics of transformation spells, and the best way to do that was by figuring out where the knowledge for performing them had come from.

The spell I had used was a refined version of transformation spells commonly used by witches who had brought the knowledge with them to the New World when they had immigrated to the English colonies in the seventeenth century. Witches often used transformation spells to alter their appearances or the physical traits of their familiars to outwit their enemies. This was in contrast to sorcerers from medieval Europe and the pre-Islamic Middle East from whom witches had learned about transformation spells. Sorcerers had used transformation spells as a weapon to neutralize their enemies. The biggest shortcoming to using transformation spells as a weapon was that, although they worked well on mere mortals, their effects were limited on the supernatural entities that tended to be the biggest challenge to sorcerers. Supernatural beings like djinn, leviathans, satyrs, and nymphs, among others, were effectively immune to transformation spells.

I glanced over at Jane as she continued sleeping. She hardly looked like a leviathan to me. No, I didn’t think Jane was a supernatural being. But maybe that was an idea worth investigating.

I received a text message on my phone. I read the message and immediately ran downstairs to the front door. I opened the door and found Erica standing outside.

“I owe you one,” I said as I led her inside.

“I don’t usually make house calls, but your boyfriend’s situation has piqued my interest,” Erica said.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I said. “Ex-boy, actually. I would throw her out now if a part of me didn’t feel somehow responsible for what has happened to her.”

As we made our way up the stairs, Erica asked, “Why do you feel responsible?”

“Her transformation happened after I cast the impotence spell,” I said. “For all I know, that somehow caused it. Then when I tried to fix things with the transformation spell, she ended up suffering in agony.”

“I already told you the impotence spell had nothing to do with this,” Erica said. “And it seems pretty obvious that she is responsible for the failure of the transformation spell. It takes great focus and concentration to make the spell work properly. Jane, as you call her, is obviously under too much stress to perform the spell correctly. She’s lucky to be alive. On the other hand, maybe you are responsible for her sex change after all.”

We stopped in front of my bedroom door.

“What do you mean?”

“I was thinking about what you told me about traveling to the djinn world and altering reality,” Erica explained. “I mentioned the possibility that maybe you tapped into something that allows the djinn to grant wishes. Maybe you still retain that power. It’s just a thought, but maybe you made this happen in the same way that you purportedly made reality change.”

I didn’t know what to say. The idea sounded far-fetched on its face. But everything that had happened to me since I first found the djinn who had transformed me into a woman seemed far-fetched. That didn’t make any of it less real.

“That’s a disturbing thought,” I said.

“Like I said, it’s just a thought.”

We stepped into my bedroom. Erica walked over to the bed where Jane was sleeping.

“What a strange aura,” Erica said. “It looks like the aura of a virile young man, except he’s missing his manhood. It’s like finding your car with the engine missing.”

Erica reached into the small black leather purse she was carrying and withdrew a deck of cards. She sat down at my desk and began laying out the cards. I was expecting to see tarot cards with mythical figures like death and the devil. Instead, it was just a regular deck of playing cards.

“I thought you were going to read cards to figure out what’s going on with Jane,” I said.

“I am,” Erica said. “I don’t need one of those ridiculous novelty decks to read cards. I can do it with a regular deck you can buy at any supermarket.”

“I thought you needed one of those tarot card sets with all the creepy symbols,” I said.

“Tarot cards are just playing cards with different suits,” Erica said. “There’s nothing special or magical about them. Now let me focus.”

Erica shuffled the cards and laid them out in four rows. She quickly rearranged them and placed them in a grid-like pattern. She spent several minutes moving the cards around on my desk. She looked for all the world like she was playing solitaire.

“Hmmm,” Erica muttered. “Interesting.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“I’m not entirely sure Jane is human.”

“What?”

Erica examined the cards laid out on the desk closely.

“According to the cards, Jane’s body and spirit have been altered,” Erica said. “Her new form isn’t bound by the same limitations as normal humans. Yet her form does have limitations. She has a strong need for something she’s missing.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

Erica peered at Jane’s sleeping form.

“It means you should find this Astrid woman,” Erica said. “She may have done something to Jane to cause this. You need to find the other woman, Kelly. And figure out what she did to your ex-boyfriend.”

Fantastic. The key to helping Jane and getting my life back on track was to find the one person in the world I never wanted to see again.

Chapter Ten

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Nadine said as we sat in our seats waiting for class to start.

“I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks,” I said.

After failing to transform Jane back into a man the night before, I had been up late researching transformation spells and the entities known to be immune to them. The fact that Erica’s card reading had led her to conclude that Jane might no longer be human provided some insight into the bizarre situation. I had shared what I had learned about transformation spells with Erica, and we were both clinging to the theory that somehow Jane had been transformed by her encounter with Astrid into something other than the woman she appeared to be on the surface.

I had shared my theory with Jane that morning when she finally woke up. She had freaked out. She was already upset about the failed transformation spell, but being told there was a chance she was no longer human pushed her over the edge.

I told her that I would seek out Astrid and learn more about her. Maybe if Astrid really was involved in Jane’s transformation, I could figure out what had happened and turn Jane back into Johnny.

I told my roommates that Jane was my friend visiting from out of town for a few days. While I went to class, Jane was hanging out at the townhouse, probably going out of her mind. On the bright side, she was close to my size and was able to fit into my clothes. She had borrowed one of my t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and some old sneakers to wear for the day. I had tried to convince her to put on some underwear, too, but she refused. Wearing women’s underwear was more than she could handle at the moment.

“Are you still upset over your breakup?” Claudia asked.

I had told Nadine and Claudia that I had broken up with my boyfriend, but not why. And, of course, I had kept quiet about his transformation into Jane.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been on a sort of emotional roller coaster.”

“Try to stay positive,” Claudia said. “You know what they say, God never closes a door without opening a window.”

“Yeah, you’re totally hot,” Nadine said. “You can get any guy you want. You should use this as an opportunity to trade up.”

I didn’t feel particularly hot. I had left home in a rush with barely any time to do my makeup. I had thrown on a blue short-sleeved gingham dress with a square neckline and slipped into a pair of cocoa-colored ankle strap sandals with two-inch heels. I didn’t have time to style my hair, either. I felt like a frumpy Dorothy Gale rather than a sexpot.

“Men are a dime-a-dozen,” I said. “Any straight guy with a pulse will sleep with me. But finding a guy who cares what’s on my mind, who can have a conversation with me, that’s like looking for a glass of ice water in the Sahara. You guys know how men are, all they care about is sex and they’ll say anything to get in bed with you. I’m glad God was kind enough to open a window after he closed that door, that at least gives me the option of jumping out that window .”

“Don’t be so glum,” Nadine said. “Look, there’s a tall glass of water for you.”

I looked over at where Nadine was staring and saw Dylan as he entered the classroom and took his seat a couple of rows away. He saw me looking in his direction, smiled, and waved at me. I smiled and waved back.

I thought back to the way I had handled my last breakup in college. I had locked myself up in my dorm room and cried for a long time after I had found Paul in bed with another girl. Then my roommate at the time, a girl named Molly who was chronically single, had insisted on taking me out to a campus party to find a rebound guy. I had found one. Then another. And another. I had gone through men like tissue paper since college. How many guys had I slept with before I met Johnny? More than would fit in the classroom where I was sitting. A lot more.

I had given up that lifestyle after transforming into Kelly. I thought it had been an improvement. It didn’t feel like an improvement after finding the man I loved in bed with another woman…and then finding that he had become a woman. In fact, the no-strings-attached approach to men was starting to look a lot better.

“Wow,” Claudia said. “Dylan is such a cute boy. You’re so lucky.”

“What?” I said.

“I mean because he’s into you,” Claudia said. “The way he’s always making excuses to talk to you and giving you looks.”

“You should make a move on him,” Nadine said. “There are already a bunch of other skanks trying to sink their claws into him. Now that you’re single, you should get your claws into him first. A guy like that isn’t going to stay on the market for long.”

I snorted derisively.

“Guys like that are always on the market,” I said. “He’s probably with two or three girls already who think they’re exclusive with him. I’d just be another notch on his belt…Wait. Did you just call me a skank?”

“Oh, Kelly, don’t let one bad apple spoil the orchard for you,” Claudia said. “Not every man is a cheater. Adultery is a sin. There are good God-fearing men out there who understand that.”

“Absolutely,” Nadine said. “My husband Hank would never cheat. He knows a good thing when he sees it. Plus, he knows I would cut his dick off if he ever touched another woman.”

“I think you’re both naïve,” I said. “Trust me. I have lots of experience with men. Lots of men. And I’m not being bitter about what happened with Johnny. It’s in a man’s nature to constantly go after the things he wants. To women, sex is like this sacred act of intimacy that carries all this baggage with it. For men, sex is like a handshake. And maybe that’s the better approach to it. Maybe we as women should treat sex as a hobby instead of an act of love. Maybe it’s better to sleep around with different guys and not get too attached to any one of them.”

“Fornication is a sin,” Claudia said.
“So is pride,” I said as I glared at Claudia. Then I looked at Nadine and said, “So is envy. The difference is fornication is more fun than either.”

“I’m going to have to take your word for that,” Claudia said. “I’m saving myself for marriage.”

“I didn’t,” Nadine said. “I went through a slut phase before I met Hank. Meh. It got old fast.”

Before we could continue our debate on the merits of promiscuity over monogamy, our civil procedure instructor, Professor Cameron, entered the classroom and made her way to the front of the room. The class fell silent.

Professor Cameron was a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and an athletic build. She was dressed in black leather boots with four-inch heels, a dark gray ankle length skirt, and a black long-sleeve blouse. She walked with a confident strut.

Professor Cameron turned to the class and said, “Before I start today’s introductory lecture on personal jurisdiction and subject matter jurisdiction, I’d like to put a question to you. Why do we as a society create rules?”

There was nothing but silence for several minutes. Then someone at the back of the room spoke up.

“Because we don’t want people doing whatever they want?” the student said.

“Why? What would be the problem with that?”

“People are selfish. If we’re allowed to do whatever we want, some of us will do things that are harmful, like steal or hurt one another,” the student responded.

“That’s an interesting take on human nature,” Professor Cameron said. “You’ll notice, however, that despite all our laws, people still steal, kill one another, engage in all sorts of harmful behavior. Creating laws against harmful behavior doesn’t prevent that behavior. If that’s the purpose of our laws, they’re not very successful.”

“But if we didn’t pass laws against those kinds of things, more people would do them,” another student at the front of the class said.

“What you’re saying is that our laws have a deterrent effect,” Professor Cameron said. “That they’re designed to modify human behavior. That’s the real crux of what all of you are here to study. The laws exist to help control people. Which brings me to the subject of this class. If our laws are designed to control people, then the importance of civil procedure becomes clear. Civil procedure concerns the rules we use to apply the laws, the rules we use to control the law. If you can master these rules and master the practice of law, you will carry on your shoulders the heavy burden of helping to control human behavior.”

That was an eerie thought. Professor Cameron had a bizarre perspective on the practice of law. She made being a lawyer sound so authoritarian.

“That’s a very backwards way of looking at things,” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Professor Cameron said.

Every pair of eyes in the classroom was on me. I swallowed hard. I hadn’t intended to say that aloud. But since I had spoken up, I felt obligated to follow through.

“What I mean is, this country was founded on the rule of law to ensure personal liberty and empower people to choose how they want to live through free elections,” I said. “To say that our laws exist to control people sort of goes against everything our society stands for.”

Professor Cameron grinned.

“Miss Rodriguez, is it?” she said. “That’s a fascinating point. Let’s develop that thought. You’re aware that ours is a common law system. Do you understand what that means?”

“It means judges interpret the law when they rule on cases and their interpretations become binding legal precedent,” I said.

Professor Cameron nodded.

“Yes, but it is a little more complex than that,” she said. “In our common law system, the federal and state legislatures pass laws, but they’re not the only ones who make laws. In ruling on cases, judges also create laws. This system doesn’t just go back to the creation of the Republic. It goes back further than the English colonies. This system goes back to medieval England, back when judges were appointed by the king. The authority of those magistrates came directly from the king, whose own authority was derived from divine right. Our system of laws goes back to a time when torture was common place, when refusing to recognize the authority of the king was punishable by death, and human beings could be owned as property. Our legal system is far older than our society, and goes back to a time when lofty ideas like personal liberty were trampled under ideas like the divine right of kings. What does that tell you about the purpose of our laws, Miss Rodriguez?”

“Uh, I guess that means that maybe our laws aren’t as progressive as I thought,” I said sheepishly.

“Maybe,” Professor Cameron said. “I want you to reflect on that. I want all of you to reflect on that. As we study civil procedure in this class, keep in mind the origins of our legal system and the purpose of that system. Do that, and you will achieve a better understanding of what you learn in this class.”

“Talk about being ballsy and reckless,” Nadine said after class as we walked out.

“Yeah, it took a lot of guts to speak up like that,” Claudia agreed.

“It’s not like I planned to say anything,” I said. “My mouth just has a life of its own sometimes.”

As we walked out of the classroom and down the hall, I noticed Dylan out of the corner of my eye.

“Speaking of feeling ballsy and reckless, I’m about to let my mouth do its thing again,” I said.

I minced up to Dylan and said, “Hey, how’s it going?”

Dylan turned to me and flashed a smile that showed off a mouthful of bright white teeth.

“I’m good,” he said. “I can’t say I’m feeling as bold as you are. That was quite a performance back there.”

“Oh, that. Well, my mouth likes to run off on me. I have impulse control issues. Don’t read too much into it. I’m just glad Professor Cameron didn’t chew me out.”

“No, if anything she seemed impressed by the way you spoke up,” I said.

“I hope so,” I said. “I was also hoping you’d be interested in getting together to study.”

“Sure,” Dylan said. “I was planning to ask you the same thing. Let’s meet up tonight, if you’re free.”

“Okay,” I said, failing to consider the million other things going on in my life at the moment that weighed against the idea. “I’ll text you my address.”

“It’s a date,” Dylan said as he sauntered off.

After Dylan had left, Claudia and Nadine came up beside me.

“Tell me you did not ask Dylan out,” Claudia said.

“Like I said before, my mouth just has a life of its own sometimes.”

“What are you planning to do with him once you have him all to yourself?” Nadine asked suggestively.

I shrugged.

“I’ll find out when it happens,” I said.

Chapter Eleven

I parked my car across the street from a nondescript office building. It was mid-afternoon and I was done with class for the day. I took a look around to make sure no one was watching me, then I sprinkled some of the yellow powder over my head and recited the incantation. Once I was cloaked, I stepped out of my car and crossed the street. I entered the office building and took the stairs up to the third floor.

A quick online search had told me that Astrid had her office in this building. Sure enough, I found a suite with a small plaque out front that read, “Fantastic Visions Interior Design by Astrid Nilsen.”

As I stepped through the front door, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. What little information I was able to find about Astrid online indicated that she was nothing more than an in-demand interior designer. What could I look for that would serve as a red flag to explain Jane’s gender swap? Glowing red eyes? Horns? A bubbling cauldron? I was grasping at straws. Maybe I was trying too hard to avoid the obvious conclusion that whatever had happened to Jane was my fault. But even if I had screwed up with magic, I hadn’t been able to figure out how, and I had to explore every possibility, however unlikely.

When I went through the door to Astrid’s office suite, I found myself in a waiting room with a red-haired receptionist sitting behind a desk on the phone.

“Yes Mister Garret, Astrid will give you a call back tomorrow to go over her plans for your foyer,” the receptionist said. “It’s no trouble at all.”

I walked past the waiting room area and wandered around the office. It looked perfectly mundane at first glance. People walked about dressed in business casual answering phones, typing on keyboards, and chatting in hallways.

Eventually I made my way to a large office toward the back where I found Astrid on the phone behind a massive mahogany executive desk. My muscles tensed as I watched her. Here was the miserable wretch of a woman who had completely ruined my perfect life. I wanted to hurt her. But I knew how important it was not to let my emotions get out of hand. I restrained myself and remembered why I was there.

“Don’t worry, Estella, I know the proposed layout for your living room is more vibrant than what you’re used to, but it’s going to complement your home décor perfectly,” Astrid said to whoever was on the other end of the line.

She looked every bit as glamorous as I remembered her being. Astrid was tall, thin, blonde, and beautiful. She was wearing a tight-fitting strapless cerulean dress that accentuated her impressive figure. Acknowledging her physical beauty only made me that much angrier. No wonder Johnny had been unable to resist her. I doubted many men could.

I listened in to Astrid’s conversation on the phone for several minutes, surprised anyone could find something as simple as the layout of a living room to be such a captivating topic for discussion. Then Astrid had a meeting with some of her staff members about various projects they were working on. Afterward she met with a client to discuss her plans to redo his guest house. After half-an-hour of spying on Astrid, I was bored out of my mind.

That was when Astrid advised her secretary that she would be leaving the office early and darted out the front door. The speed with which she left reignited my suspicions and I followed after her.

As it turned out, she didn’t go too far. Astrid walked a few blocks down the street to a popular five-star hotel where she went into the lobby and made her way to a posh restaurant. She asked the restaurant’s hostess for a seat at the bar, sat down, and ordered a glass of wine. Then she sat there for several minutes sipping her wine and reading articles about fashion design on her phone. Maybe Astrid’s big secret was that she was an alcoholic.

Within a few minutes, other patrons began trickling into the restaurant and made their way to empty seats at the bar. It looked like local office workers were indulging in happy hour.

A fair-haired man with streaks of gray at his temples dressed in a finely tailored Italian suit stepped through me on the way to the bar. He abruptly stopped and looked around with a perplexed expression on his face. No doubt walking through me had made him feel funny.

The man in the fancy suit was accompanied by another man with silver hair slicked back, who was wearing a shabbier suit made of polyester.

“What’s a matter, Dan?” the silver-haired man asked. “You look like someone walked over your grave.”

“Nothing, Bill,” Dan said. “Uh, I just had this weird feeling like I walked through a spider web or something. Come on, let’s go grab some seats.”

Dan and Bill sat down near Astrid. Both men glanced at her.

Dan leaned over to Bill and said, “Take a look at the blonde in the blue dress. What a piece of ass.”

Bill chuckled.

“Damn right,” Bill said. “What I wouldn’t give to take her home.”

Dan slipped a wedding ring off his finger and dropped it in one of his pockets.

“Wishing is a poor man’s disease,” Dan said. “When you make the kind of money you and I make, you can afford to make dreams into reality.”

Bill shook his head.

“Don’t do it, Dan,” Bill said. “Didn’t you say Margery was already suspicious about that trip you took to Chicago last month? You want to give her another reason to get on your case?”

Dan scoffed.

“Margery knows how this works,” Dan said. “She’s the trophy wife. She gets to sit at home in a nice big house with nannies to take care of the kids, a luxury sports car in the garage, and with a prenup protecting my interests. She makes me look good, but she knows she doesn’t have a leash on me. I get to sow my oats as long as I keep it on the down low.”

“Okay, it’s your funeral, buddy,” Bill said.

“Live a little,” Dan said with a smirk as he got up from his seat and walked toward Astrid.

Bill shook his head again and waved to get the bartender’s attention.

I looked on with disgust as Dan sauntered over to Astrid, leaned on the counter beside her, and said, “Hi there. I couldn’t help but notice your glass is almost empty. I insist that you allow me to get that refilled for you before you run dry and we have a real crisis on our hands.”

Astrid smiled warmly at Dan and said, “My hero. You just saved me from the risk of staying sober and dying of boredom.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan said.

Dan called over to the bartender and ordered two glasses of the most expensive wine the bar kept in stock.

As I watched Dan try to seduce Astrid, I found it increasingly difficult to contain my rage. All my worst assumptions about Astrid were true. She was a sex-crazed skank. Only a few days before, she had taken advantage of my ex-boyfriend, and now here she was preying on a married scumbag. But then I recognized that it wasn’t fair to blame the chum for the shark frenzy. Astrid may have been a slut, but she wouldn’t have been able to satiate her supercharged libido without an endless supply of stupid, horny men chasing after her.
After an obscenely short amount of time, Astrid and Dan got up from their seats and made their way out to the lobby, with Dan shooting Bill a wink as he left the bar. I followed them out to the reception desk where they asked for a room. Then I reluctantly followed them up the elevator and watched them practically sprint to the hotel room they had gotten. I had reservations about watching Astrid and Dan in flagrante delicto, but if sleeping with Astrid had somehow caused Jane’s gender swap, I had to force myself to watch in case an explanation revealed itself.

And I did force myself to watch. For about five minutes. After that, my stomach began to turn and I was close to throwing up. I went out into the hallway and listened to the sounds of their carnal symphony. Listening to Astrid and Dan make love was no picnic, but it wasn’t as excruciating as watching them.

Eventually, the sounds of sex subsided and I heard them talking. Then the door opened. I half expected to see a female version of Dan step out and run down the hall screaming. But it was just regular Dan, looking smug in his now-wrinkled Italian suit.

“You were great, babe,” Dan said. “I’ll give you a call and we’ll get together again soon.”

“Can’t wait,” Astrid said as she stood beside the bed adjusting her dress.

Dan closed the door and walked toward the elevator. I looked at the closed door. Then I looked back at Dan. Should I follow Dan or stay with Astrid?

I decided it made more sense to follow Dan. If something happened to him, I could witness it, and I knew where to find Astrid if I had to follow up on her.

I followed Dan as he made his way back down to the bar where his friend Bill was nursing a glass of bourbon.

“What did I tell you?” Dan said. “Make dreams into reality.”

Bill guffawed.

“You’re a scumbag, Dan, but you sure know how to work women,” Bill said. “How was she?”

Dan ordered a glass of bourbon for himself and sat down next to Bill.

“She was the best pussy I ever had,” Dan said. “Yeah, she had an amazing body, but that wasn’t even the best part. She had skills in bed like I never imagined.”

I watched Dan brag about his infidelity for nearly an hour. I began to hope something would happen to him. But he was fine. Obviously I was barking up the wrong tree. There was nothing mystical going on with Astrid.

As I began to walk away, I heard the sound of glass shattering.

I turned back to see Dan groaning and clutching at his chest. Shards of glass lay at his feet in a pool of spilled bourbon.

“Fuck!” he cried as he bent over. “My chest!”

“Shit!” Bill exclaimed. “He’s having a heart attack! Call an ambulance!”

Bill grabbed Dan and tried to keep him from keeling over while the bartender got on the phone and called for help. Several of the restaurant’s patrons hurriedly left while others tried to offer help, and some merely watched the scene play out.

I watched as Dan lost consciousness. Paramedics charged into the restaurant only minutes later. They cleared the room of customers and then tried to resuscitate Dan with a defibrillator. I overheard them mention that there was no sign of electrical activity coming from his heart. The paramedics agreed to take him to a nearby hospital although they acknowledged that there was nothing they could do to bring Dan back. I watched as they hauled him away.

I was left standing alone in the restaurant wondering if I had just witnessed a murder.

Chapter Twelve

“I think we may be dealing with a witch who has a problem with men,” Erica said.

I had gone to Erica’s shop after witnessing the outcome of Astrid’s tryst with the unfortunate adulterer Dan and had told her what had happened. Neither of us thought the heart attack was a mere coincidence.

“And what?” I said. “She seduces men to test their loyalty to their women and then curses them? Jane she transforms into a woman and this poor bastard at the hotel bar she kills? Not a lot of logical consistency there.”

“I admit, it doesn’t sound reasonable, but don’t forget that the night you found your ex cheating on you, you were ready to cast a spell to make him spontaneously combust,” Erica said. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“Granted, but if she just cast a transformation spell on Jane, why wasn’t I able to reverse it?”

“Like I said before, maybe Jane is under too much stress to permit the spell to work properly,” Erica said. “The one thing I can’t explain is Jane’s aura and what the cards keep telling me. Jane is no longer human. Whatever Astrid did to her, it seems to go beyond a simple gender swap. I’d reach out to Chastity for advice, but we’re not on the best terms right now. She blames you for her recent falling out with her niece, and because I introduced you to Chastity, I’m guilty by association.”

Summer had chosen to move away from Chastity after accepting her boyfriend’s proposal. That had nothing to do with me, even if I had encouraged Summer to forge her own path separate from Chastity. I didn’t care if Summer’s choice had upset Chastity, I only felt bad that Erica had lost a steady customer.

“It would be nice to be able to consult with a witch about this,” I said. “Well, I can always ask Summer. She may not be a witch, but she watched Chastity practice magic for years. She may know something that can help figure this whole thing out with Jane.”

“It’s worth a try,” Erica said. “And here’s that text you were asking about. You love reading so much, go ahead and pour through that. Maybe you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.”

Erica placed a thick leather bound book on the counter beside the cash register. Gleaming in gold text on the black leather were the words On the History of the Blinding of the Prophet Tiresias and the Legacy Thereof. The book was the definitive work on everything known about gender swapping, drafted by a coven of German witches in the nineteenth century.

“Wow, you’re good,” I said. “I can’t believe you were able to get your hands on a copy.”

“I had to call in a favor from a wood nymph who supplies me with fairy dust, but I found it,” Erica said.

“How much is this going to set me back?” I asked.

“Eight hundred and fifty dollars,” Erica said.

I winced.

“Yikes,” I said as I paid her. “Between law school and your magic shop, I’m going to end up filing for bankruptcy.”

“I’m sure it’s worth every penny,” Erica said.

“I’ll see you later,” I said. “I have to get home. I have a study date with a classmate.”

Erica snorted.

“Judging by that spark in your aura, the only thing you’re planning to study is your classmate,” Erica said. “I can’t believe that with everything you’re going through you’re thinking of sleeping with someone you just met.”

I giggled.

“Girl, I swear you read minds, not auras,” I said with a smile. “What can I say, Erica? Maybe I was too quick to abandon my old habits. Indulging in lust is looking more appealing than pursuing love these days.”

I left Erica’s magic shop and drove home. I had less than an hour before Dylan arrived. I parked in the garage under the townhouse and went up the stairs into the kitchen.

“Someone’s feeling frisky tonight,” I heard someone in the living room say.

I walked into the living room and saw a petite Asian girl with long brown hair streaked with gold highlights crouched on the floor with a pudgy orange tabby cradled in her arms, and two more cats bouncing around on the floor around her. She was dressed in black tights, a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, and a pair of white tennis shoes.

My roommate Emma stood about five-foot-three and was super cute. Before my transformation into a girl, she had been the shortest roommate living in the townhouse. As a man, I had thought she would make a perfect candidate for what is referred to in the adult film industry as a “spinner,” a woman with a physique so slight that a man can easily spin her around during sex to maneuver her into different positions. That was ironic considering that, because I was now smaller than Emma, I was better qualified to serve as a spinner than she was. Emma was no porn star, of course, she worked as a medical assistant at a nearby clinic.

“Oh, hey Emma,” I said. “I thought you were talking to me.”

“Is that right?” Emma said. “Why? Are you feeling frisky, Kelly?”

“That’s a personal question,” I said. “Buster sure is getting chubby.”

“No, he’s getting cuddly. Cats are supposed to look cuddly. It makes them more fun to snuggle with.”

“Did you just finish feeding them?” I asked. “They look happier than usual.”

Emma’s cats were almost as cute as she was, but they were complete assholes when they were hungry, biting and scratching with irritation. Give them some treats and they instantly became your best friends.

“Sure did. The local animal shelter is holding a midnight neuter-a-thon, and I’m going to volunteer. I wanted to feed these little guys before I head out.”

“What’s a neuter-a-thon?”

“Oh, well, they’re performing free neutering and spaying services for anyone who brings in their kitties and doggies tonight,” Emma explained. “You know how important it is to limit the number of strays. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to get these little guys to wear condoms.”

“Yeah, all the guys I knew in college were the same way,” I said. “What exactly are you going to be doing? Like, gathering all the loose gonads off the floor?”

“No, nothing like that. I’ll just be registering the critters as the owners bring them in. Wanna come with?”

I shook my head.

“As much as I would like to see a bunch of males lose their manhood, I have my own tomcat coming over tonight, and this kitty is indeed feeling frisky,” I said.

“Oh, Kelly, I know you’re upset about Johnny, but hopping into bed with another guy right away isn’t a good idea,” Emma said. “When I was in high school, I caught my boyfriend kissing another girl at my friend’s birthday party. To get back at him, I made out with my chemistry lab partner. That guy went around telling everyone he copped a feel on my boobs, and the whole rest of the semester all the other girls at school called me a slut. The funny thing is, I found out my ex-boyfriend came out as gay last year. Crazy, right?”

“Emma, were you trying to make a point?”

Emma raised both her eyebrows.
“I think so.”

“Well, I must have missed it,” I said. “Listen, since you’re going out tonight, do you mind if Jane hangs out in your room? I’m expecting my friend and I to need some privacy tonight.”

Emma dropped Buster on the floor and stood up.

“Okay, but only if you promise to give my babies their late night treats while I’m out,” Emma said.

“I sort of have to,” I said. “If Buster, Casper, and Pixie don’t get their snacks, they run amok.”

“That reminds me, don’t let Becky throw her shoes at them. She can be a terrible aunt. She doesn’t understand that kittens gonna kitten.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Cool, thanks,” Emma said. “Goodbye babies, be good for Aunt Kelly.”

With that, Emma bounced off downstairs to the garage.

I reached down to pet Buster, who purred approvingly before suddenly dashing away to hide behind the coffee table. For all their attitude, I couldn’t even say Emma’s pets were my most temperamental roommates.

I went upstairs to my bedroom. When I opened the door, I was surprised to find Jane sitting in my chair wearing a black cotton-blend miniskirt and a rose-colored halter top that exposed her midriff. Jane hadn’t yet picked up typical female mannerisms and sat in the chair like a man, with her knees spread apart, so I could see she still wasn’t wearing any underwear. She was watching something on television and ignored me as I walked in.

“Why are you dressed like that?” I asked.

“Uh, I went out for a walk earlier,” Jane said absentmindedly. “It was warm out, so I changed. This felt more comfortable. You said I could borrow your clothes.”

“I see.”

I glanced at the television to find out what Jane was watching so intently. On the screen, a group of muscular men wearing nothing but briefs were dancing on a stage in front of a crowd of cheering women.

“Oh my god,” I said. “You’re watching Beefcake Blues?”

Beefcake Blues was a dramatic comedy about a teenage boy who runs away from home and ends up in Las Vegas where he finds work at a male strip club. Most of the film revolves around his efforts to overcome his drug habit and make a relationship work with a waitress he meets. The movie was very popular with women because of all the strip club scenes with the muscle-bound hunks dancing naked. I was embarrassed to say I had watched Beefcake Blues multiple times.

Jane turned away from the television, looked at me, and muttered, “Uh, I was channel surfing and it was on.”

I turned off the television and said, “Right. Well, I think I may be onto something with Astrid. I’ll spare you the details, but I think she may have transformed you as a sort of punishment for cheating on me. Don’t ask me how or why, just take my word for it. I’m going to do some research and try to figure out exactly what she did to you.”

“That’s great,” Jane said.

Jane stared past me at the wall with a blank expression on her face.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “I mean, aside from your whole sex change thing. You’re spacing out on me.”

Jane looked at me and said, “Something is different. I’m having unusual…urges.”

“Jane, please skip the cryptic bullshit and tell me what’s wrong,” I said. “I’m dealing with way too much as it is.”

“I’m…attracted to men,” Jane said.

I gazed at Jane for several moments. Then I laughed.

“Welcome to the club, girl,” I said. “I know, I know. You’re not gay. It doesn’t feel right. I went through the same thing at first. You get used to it. You have no choice in the matter. You’re in a woman’s body. You’re biologically programmed to find men attractive. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Jane whined. “For the first couple of days, I tried to suppress my feelings. Now I can’t even do that. I went for a walk around the neighborhood today. I noticed all these young, good-looking guys everywhere. All I could think about whenever I looked at them was how much I wanted them. These fantasies kept springing up in my head. I couldn’t fight it. After a while, I began to enjoy the feeling I got from checking out guys. I came back here and tried to watch television to take my mind off the urges. But there’s hot guys on every channel. And I can’t stop myself from wanting them. I feel like a cat in heat.”

“Jane, I know these feelings may seem strange, but that’s only because they’re new,” I said. “They’re perfectly natural. It’s the way all women feel. These feelings are no different from the feelings of attraction you had as a man.”

“Really?” Jane said. “This is how you feel all the time?”

I shrugged.

“Well, maybe not all the time, but often,” I said. “Like right now, for instance, I do. Which is why I’m going to have to ask you to stay in Emma’s room tonight.”

I explained that Dylan was coming over and I wanted some privacy later. Jane glowered.

“Seriously?” she said. “We’ve been broken up for a few days and you’re already hooking up with random guys?”

“Stop right there,” I warned. “You don’t get to question me about who I’m spending time with. You’re on thin ice, Jane. I’m wondering why I’m going so out of my way for you when I should be relishing your misery. It also sounds like you have a pretty good idea now that a girl has needs. You may be indulging those needs sooner than you think, from what you just said. You and I are over and, anyway, you’re obviously no longer equipped to meet my needs. You were the first real relationship I had in years. I was loyal, devoted, loving, and how did you repay that? I’m thinking relationships are overrated and it’s time to move on. Deal with it or get out and find a way to get your penis back on your own.”

Jane stood up, threw her arms in the air, and stamped one of her feet on the floor.

“I’m in hell!” Jane growled. “I died and went to hell! That’s the only explanation for this nightmare! Fine! Go spread your legs for some random asshole!”

With that, Jane stormed out of the room and down the hallway toward Emma’s bedroom. I heard a door slam shut.

I was tempted to throw Jane out on the street right then and there. I was putting my life on hold to help her out after she had stabbed me in the back, and she was acting like a world class bitch. If it wasn’t for that haunting feeling that I may have been responsible for her transformation in some way, I really would have tossed her out on her ass. Well, that and the fact that the police were actively looking for her male alter ego.

I received a text on my phone. It was from Dylan.

“I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes,” he wrote.

“I’ll be waiting,” I wrote back with a winking face emoji to add emphasis.

I closed the door to my bedroom and took off the gingham dress I had been wearing all day, then removed the cotton panties and bra I had on underneath. Naked, I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a violet thong with black lace trimming and a matching push-up bra. After slipping into the underwear, I walked over to my closet and picked out a scandalously short denim skirt and a white camisole crop top with spaghetti straps and a row of buttons that went halfway down the front. I put on the skirt and camisole, leaving the buttons on the latter unfastened to expose an obscene amount of cleavage. Then I grabbed a pair of bright red sandals with four-inch stiletto heels, ankle straps, and cute little bows over the toe straps.

I checked myself out in the mirror. Dressed like this, I wasn’t just dropping a hint for Dylan, I was giving him an engraved invitation and rolling out the red carpet. Someone was getting lucky tonight.

Dylan texted me that he was at the front door. I went downstairs and opened the door.

Dylan stood outside dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt, with several textbooks and note pads tucked under one arm. The look on his face when he laid his eyes on me told me that I looked as hot as I felt.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” I said with a smile as I led him to the living room where my law school textbooks, study guides, and notes were laid out.

“Humble nothing,” he said. “You’ve got a nice place. I live in a rundown studio in Ashford, and what I’m paying for rent is a crime. This place must cost a fortune.”

“Thanks, but I share the insane rent with three roommates. It’s the only way I could ever afford a place like this. Have a seat and make yourself comfortable. I was just about to grab a beer from the fridge. Do you want me to get you one, too?”

“I’d love one, thanks.”

I brought over a couple of beers and Dylan and I sat down next to each other on the couch. We went over our notes for the classes we had together, clarifying any points of confusion. Then we went over the assigned reading for the next few classes.

Nearly an hour into our study session, Dylan said, “You know, the tough part of law school is pulling it all together. All the different rules for all the different subjects are hard to remember, yeah, but figuring out how they all work with each other is way harder.”

I nodded.

“Yes, but understanding the overall framework helps with memorizing the black letter law,” I said. “The subjects we’re studying this semester all fit together in a simple, elegant framework. Torts and contracts provide the causes of action that give rise to lawsuits, property is the object over which those lawsuits are argued, and civil procedure provides the rules for arguing cases. It helps if you analogize the concepts to football. Torts and contracts are the two different plays you can run, passes or rushes. The ball is property, the things your fighting to get possession over. And civil procedure is just the game rules. Once you put the different concepts in perspective, it becomes much easier to understand the rationale for the legal rules and principles, sort of like the better you understand the fundamentals in football the better you can plan your game strategy.”

Dylan laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Sorry. It’s just…you’re so far from my first impression of you.”

“Oh,” I said as I leaned closer to him. “What was your first impression of me?”

“Uh, well, most girls who take an interest in how they look and who look like you aren’t…as nerdy as you are,” Dylan said.

I giggled and gave Dylan a playful shove as I said, “You thought I was an airhead, didn’t you?”

Dylan smiled back at me and shook his head.

“No, not at all,” Dylan said. “From the way you handle yourself in class when the professors pick on you, it’s obvious you’re smart. That’s not it. I just meant that beautiful girls aren’t usually as into studying stuff like this the way you are. And some of the things you’re into, like football and those science fiction stories you were talking to me about the other day. You’re like a really chill dude you can share a beer with, but in the body of a girl.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked as I took a sip from my beer.

“No, it’s great,” he said. “I love hanging out with you. I just wish it wasn’t to study something this hard.”

“Come on, it’s not that hard,” I said. “You’re just stressed. You need to take your mind off this stuff for a minute and relax. Scoot over here. I’ll massage your shoulders to…”

Suddenly a familiar voice said, “Hi, Kelly. Who’s your friend?”

I turned to see Jane standing behind the couch, her hands on her hips, an accusatory expression on her face. Dylan stared at Jane, too, and the look on his face when his eyes fell on her made the look he gave me at the front door seem restrained by comparison. He was clearly enthralled by the sight of the petite Latina in the miniskirt and halter top who stared back at him with suspicion and ire. I’ll admit it, I felt a little jealous.

“Uh, hey Jane,” I said, my unease betrayed by my tone of voice. “This is my friend Dylan from school. Dylan this is, uh, my friend Jane. She’s visiting from out of town.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dylan said.

“I’m sure,” Jane said icily.

“What are you doing here, Jane?” I said. “I thought you were, uh, taking a nap upstairs. Where you should be.”

“I heard some noises downstairs and I came to see if you were okay,” Jane said. “It sounded like someone was bothering you. Dylan, were you bothering my…my Kelly, my friend Kelly?”

Dylan grinned stupidly.

“What?” he said. “No. We were just studying. I’m sorry if we woke you up. Hey, we were just taking a break. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll grab you a beer. I moved here for school a few weeks back, I don’t know anyone from the area, and I’m always up for meeting new people.”

Before I could protest, Jane said, “Sure.”

She took a seat between me and Dylan, shoving me aside with surprising force.

Dylan got up and raced to the kitchen to grab Jane a drink, blatantly looking back over his shoulder to take another opportunity to gaze at Jane. I rolled my eyes. Men were so disgusting. For a moment, I thought it might be better to become one again just so I could avoid having anything to do with them. That thought made for a poignant paradox.

While Dylan was in the kitchen, I whispered angrily to Jane, “Get out of here, asshole. You’re fucking this up for me.”

“My god, Kelly, if I had waited one more minute before saying something he’d be on top of you right now,” Jane said. “You joked about being easy before meeting me, but I had no idea how much of a whore you really were.”

My jaw dropped.

I was about to throw Jane over my shoulder and literally toss her out of my home when Dylan walked back into the room, handed Jane a beer, and said, “Here you go. So where are you from, Jane?”

Before Jane could answer, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Well?” Jane said to me with a scowl. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

I glanced at Dylan and said sweetly, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Take your time,” Dylan said without taking his eyes off Jane.

I went to the front door and opened it. Standing in front of me was the man in the charcoal suit I had seen with the police at Jane’s place the day before.

“Good evening,” the man said. “I’m Detective Andrew Miller. Are you Kelly Rodriguez?”

Chapter Thirteen

“Yes,” I said. “What can I do for you, Detective Miller?”

“Are you familiar with an individual named Jonathan Lopez?”

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Jane’s male alter ego.

“Johnny is my ex-boyfriend,” I said. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m not sure,” Miller said. “His family filed a missing persons report, and I’m checking in with his friends to see if they’ve heard from him. Would it be possible for me to come in for a moment to talk?”

Miller did not have a clear line-of-sight into the living room, a wall obstructed his view, but we could both hear Jane and Dylan talking. For a moment, I worried about what they were talking about, but only for a moment. I had more pressing concerns just then.

I knew my rights, and Miller had no right to barge into my home without a warrant or probable cause that a crime had been committed. I could have told him to leave, but that might have raised his suspicions. I also wanted to talk to him to get an idea about what the police knew, fully aware they might have seen me walking around with Jane. I had to talk to him, but not in the townhouse, not where he could see Jane.

“I’m sorry, but I have guests over just now,” I said. “Would it be asking too much if I could excuse myself and meet with you in a few minutes at the coffee shop down the street? I don’t want to upset my guests.”

Miller peeked over my shoulder, then nodded.

“You know, I could actually use a cup of coffee,” he said. “I’ll go down there and grab one while I wait for you. Please don’t keep me waiting, Miss Rodriguez.”

“I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” I said as Miller turned around and strolled away.

I closed the door and minced back into the living room.

“Jane, could you please join me in the kitchen?” I said. “Your sister just dropped by with an urgent message for you.”

Jane’s eyes widened.

“My sister?”

“Yes,” I said. “You know, about that thing you talked to her about the other day.”

Jane sprang up off the couch and followed me into the kitchen.

I looked at Dylan and said, “Sorry, girl talk. We’ll just be a second.”

“Sure thing,” Dylan said with a dumb grin as his eyes trailed after Jane.

“My sister came here?” Jane asked in an agitated whisper when we were alone in the kitchen.

“No,” I whispered back to her. “It was that detective we saw at your place yesterday. He wants to talk to me about your disappearance. I told him to wait for me at the coffee shop. I’m going to get rid of Dylan and I need you to hide upstairs.”

Jane stayed quiet for a moment. She glanced toward the living room.

Then she said, “You go deal with the detective. I’ll take care of Dylan.”

I grunted in annoyance.

“We don’t have time for this,” I said. “Whatever issues you have with Dylan, they can wait until after we avoid getting arrested for kidnapping or whatever.”

Jane marched out of the kitchen and into the living room. I tried to pull her back, but she easily pulled away from me.

In the living room, Jane said to Dylan, “Kelly needs to give my sister a ride to my aunt’s house to help her with something. They’ll only be gone for a little while. I can wait here and keep you company until they get back. It won’t take long.”

Dylan said, “Sounds great. That should give the two of us a chance to get to know each other better.”

“That’s right,” Jane said.

I glared at Jane.

Then I leaned in and whispered to her, “You’re going to regret this.”

I turned to Dylan and said, “Okay, well, I’m going to go ahead and take care of this. Then I’ll come back, and I’m sure the three of us will have a lot to talk about.”

“See you in a bit,” he said as I walked toward the door.

As I left the living room, I could see Dylan move closer to Jane on the couch. She shot me a nasty look. My mind flooded with horrifying possibilities, but Miller was waiting for me. I walked out the front door.

As I trudged the short distance from the townhouse to the coffee shop on the corner, I was racked with anxiety. What did the police know? What did they think had happened? Was I a suspect? What was Jane saying to Dylan? Why did my life have to be so complicated?

I walked into the coffee shop and saw Miller seated at a table by the window drinking a cup of coffee. He waved to me and said, “I was about to give up on you, Miss Rodriguez.”

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I said as I sat down across the table from him. “You’ll have to admit, it’s a bit late in the evening for something like this. Can you tell me what’s happened to Johnny?”

“Like I said, his family has filed a missing persons report,” Miller said. “I’m trying to figure out what happened. Can you tell me the last time you saw Mister Lopez?”

“I went to his condo a few days ago,” I said. “I found him with another woman. I broke up with him and left.”

Miller took out a notepad and began scribbling away with a pen.

“Did you know the other woman?”

“No. That was my first time seeing her.”

“Can you describe what she looked like?”

I nodded.

“She was white, tall, blonde.”

“Anything else?”

I shook my head.

“I wasn’t there for long. I didn’t get a good look at her.”

“And that was the last time you saw Mister Lopez?”

“Yes.”

“Have you gone back to his home since then?”

“Yes. I went there yesterday.”

“Why?”

“I left some things there. I wanted to get them back.”

“What sort of things?”

“Clothes, mostly. I stayed with him a lot. I may have left other things.”

“Were you able to get inside his condo? Do you have a key?”

“I don’t have a key. Someone was there. A girl who said she was looking for Johnny. She said she was a friend of his, but I thought she was another girl he was seeing. I got upset and I left. That girl followed me out, kept asking me where I could find Johnny. I drove home.”

“What did this girl look like?”

“She was a Latina. Short. Shorter than me. Very thin. She looked like a teenager.”

“And you never saw her before?”

“No.”

“Have you seen her since yesterday?”

“No.”

“Did you get your things out of his home?”

“No. I was too upset after finding that girl there.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but can you tell me a little more about the night you found your ex-boyfriend with the blonde woman?” Miller asked.

“There’s not much to tell,” I said. “I got there and found him with her. I told him it was over and left.”

Miller’s questioning went on for a long time. Far longer than I had expected.

Finally, he said, “I’ve only got one last question for you. Do you know of anyone who may have wanted to harm Mister Lopez?”

I snorted.

“Me, when I found him with that blonde girl,” I said. “I was upset that night. He really hurt me. But, no, Johnny didn’t have any enemies. He got along well with everyone. Then again, after finding him with the blonde, I guess I didn’t know him as well as I thought.”

“Thank you for your time, Miss Rodriguez,” he said. “I know it’s late and I appreciate your help. If you can think of anything else, here’s my card. My cell number and email address are on there. And I have the number you gave me. Have a good night.”

I took the card from him and said, “Wait. Do you think something happened to Johnny? Do you think that blonde woman…”

“Like I said, his family reported him missing, and I’m just asking questions trying to figure out where he is,” Miller said. “Thank you again for your time.”

Miller walked out of the coffee shop and I was left wondering what he planned to do. But I had to get back home and find out what damage Jane had done in my absence.

As I scurried home, I wanted so badly to be rid of Jane. My life would get a whole lot less complicated if I could turn her back into a man and forget about her. Unfortunately, with the police snooping around, I didn’t have the option of simply walking away from Jane. It was only natural for the police to suspect the involvement of the jealous ex-girlfriend in Johnny’s disappearance. If their investigation led them to a stark raving mad young woman who claimed to be Johnny mystically transformed into a woman, I doubt they would close the investigation as unsolved. My guess is they would come up with some theory involving a grizzly murder in the heat of passion. I knew from hearing about true crime stories that it was possible, albeit unwise, to prosecute someone for murder even in the absence of the victim’s body. I had no interest in taking part in a murder trial.

I entered the townhouse and darted to the living room. There was no one there. It was empty except for the textbooks and notepads strewn over the furniture. What had Jane done with Dylan? Unpleasant scenarios raced through my mind. Had Jane threatened him to stay away from me? Was I going to show up to class tomorrow with Dylan thinking I had a jealous lesbian ex-lover? Had she told him I was a slut with a lot of different partners? Had she told him I used to be a man? The possibilities were unsettling.

I made my way upstairs. My bedroom door was closed. I hurled it open, eager to settle accounts with Jane.

A lot of strange things had happened to me over the last few months. My capacity to be shocked was slowly ebbing. Johnny’s transformation into Jane hadn’t rattled me as much as it should have. Even witnessing Astrid possibly murder a man hadn’t unnerved me the way I would have expected. Regardless, I maintained the ability to be shocked.

And I was shocked when I found Jane and Dylan lying naked together in my bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?!?!?!” I screamed.

Jane turned and glanced at me with an expression of indifference. She was snuggled up against Dylan, her hand gently caressing his chest. She continued to stroke his chest with a smug, satisfied look on her face.

Dylan, on the other hand, blanched. A look of stunned horror spread across his face.

“Wait a minute, Kelly, this isn’t my fault, I wasn’t…” Dylan blurted out.

“Get out!” I shouted. “Get out!”

Dylan jumped out of the bed, grabbed his clothes off the ground, and tried to say, “Kelly, please, you don’t understand, I didn’t…”

“Get out!” I said as I swung my fist into his jaw. “Get out!”

That blow knocked Dylan back a step or two. Dazed, he stumbled forward, looked at me, looked at Jane, then ran out of the room naked with his clothes in hand.

With Dylan disposed of, I turned my attention to Jane.

“You, too, bitch!” I cried. “Get out of my home! The cops are out there looking for you! They’re welcome to find you! Man, woman, whatever, you’ve lost your fucking mind! I’m done with you!”

Jane yawned and nonchalantly rose from the bed. She picked up the miniskirt she had been wearing off the ground and slipped it on, then found the halter top and put that on, too.

As Jane slipped her small feet into a pair of my sandals, she said without bothering to look at me, “I’m fed up with you, Kelly. I know you’re behind all this. You transformed me into a woman, and you forced me to go through that agonizing transformation spell just to toy with me. Now you’re holding me here to keep torturing me. Fuck you. I’m done with your shit, you miserable bitch.”

That was the proverbial straw that broke this camel’s back. I was able to take Jane down with one punch back when she was a man. In her new, daintier physique, I could break her in half.

My fist flew toward Jane’s face. A bolt of excruciating pain shot out of my hand and up my wrist as I made contact. Jane stood there without so much as wincing.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as I nursed my hand.

Jane swung her arm against my chest to push me away. I flew across the room and out the open door into the hallway. I landed on my butt with a hard thud.

I had been a running back on my high school football team. Or rather, David had been a running back in high school. Kelly had been cheer captain in high school. Regardless, no defensive lineman or linebacker had ever hit me with as much force as Jane had just exerted on me.

“Get away from me,” Jane said. “I’m getting out of here.”

She stormed out of my room and down the stairs. I heard the front door slam shut.

Ashley and Becky ran down the stairs from their rooms on the third floor to the hallway outside my bedroom, Becky wearing only her panties and a camisole and Ashley wrapped up in a bathrobe.

“What was that all about?” Becky asked.

“Are you all right, Kelly?” Ashley asked as she helped me up off the floor.

“I don’t know,” I said.

And I really didn’t. I had been thrown yet another curveball.

Chapter Fourteen

“You get enough sleep last night, girl?” Nadine asked.

I sat with Nadine and Claudia at a table in the university’s student commons, a large building that housed the campus bookstore and several eateries along with a massive dining area. I wore pink canvas shoes, low-rise jeans, and a gray t-shirt emblazoned with the image of a defiant anthropomorphic possum covered in a tire tread mark under the caption “Roadkill Never Says Die.” My hair was done up in a pair of sloppy, unbraided half up pigtails I had haphazardly put together before leaving home. I hadn’t bothered to put on makeup when I got up that morning and I wore sunglasses to try and cover up the puffy eyes that had resulted from a lack of sleep. They didn’t seem to be fooling anyone.

“No, honey, I did not,” I said irritably. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a long while.”

Our contracts class was scheduled to start in a few minutes and we had grabbed some coffee and a quick breakfast. Nadine was eating a cheese danish while Claudia was having oatmeal. I hadn’t been hungry and had only an aluminum can filled with an energy drink sitting in front of me on the table.

“Does that mean you and Dylan…” Claudia began.

“We did not,” I interrupted her. “Things didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“Don’t worry, Kelly, there are other fish in the sea,” Nadine said.

After Jane had left the townhouse the night before, I had immediately gone to bed, completely exhausted from one of the strangest days of my life. Unfortunately, my mind was too preoccupied with problems for sleep to find me easily, and I had barely slept at all.

My head was full of cobwebs, and I found myself wondering what had compelled Jane to sleep with Dylan. First she was jealous of the guy because I wanted to hook up with him, then she jumped into bed with him at the first opportunity. Was she that desperate to get back at me?

I couldn’t blame Jane for thinking I was behind her transformation. Maybe I was. Whether or not her sex change had resulted from anything I had done, I certainly hadn’t done anything to get her back to normal, other than subject her to a painful and unsuccessful transformation spell. And it had been thoughtless of me to invite Dylan over while Jane was staying at my place. How could she have interpreted that as anything but an insult?

Yes, I may have played a role in what had transpired the night before. I could recognize that. But I wasn’t in the wrong. I was right to be upset with both Jane and Dylan. Jane for lashing out at me and Dylan for being a horny scum bag.

Now I had a new set of problems. I didn’t know where Jane was and the police were looking for her. I also had to contend with going to class with Dylan, who had made a fool of me. And I was still no closer to uncovering the mystery behind Jane’s gender swap. Things just kept getting more and more difficult.

“Fuck fishing,” I said to Nadine. “Maybe I should find another hobby.”

“You could come to my bible study group,” Claudia said. “Lost souls often go there looking for guidance.”

“I admit celibacy is starting to look pretty good about now,” I said.

After a few minutes, we got up from the table and made our way to class.

As we walked to class, Claudia and Nadine discussed the latest episode of Starlets and the plot twist that Holly had planted the cocaine in Cherry’s car that the police had found. Ordinarily I would have been engrossed in that conversation and given my opinion on how Cherry should respond. But I was too preoccupied by the dread I felt at the prospect of seeing Dylan in class. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he would be so filled with humiliation over the previous night that he would keel over from shame and drop dead.

I also reflected on the eerie similarities between my experience with Astrid when I found her sleeping with Johnny and my experience with Jane when I found her sleeping with Dylan. I had been able to knock down both Johnny and Dylan with a single punch, yet I had nearly broken my hand when I had punched Astrid and then later Jane. I didn’t need Erica to read cards to know that Astrid and Jane weren’t ordinary human women. My sore hand was all the proof I needed of that. No mere mortal could take a hit like that.

As we approached our classroom, I heard Dylan call out from behind me, “Hey, Kelly, hold up a minute!”

I turned and saw Dylan sprinting down the hallway after me.

I looked at Nadine and Claudia and said, “You guys go on ahead, I’ll be right in.”

Nadine and Claudia exchanged knowing glances before turning around and walking into the classroom.

Dylan came up to me with a dour expression on his face.

“Kelly, I know you’re pissed off but please hear me out,” Dylan pleaded.

“Don’t even bother,” I said. “You have no idea what you stepped into. I have too much going on to waste my time with another horny creep looking for a quick lay. Just forget it and move on to the next girl. Trust me, I’ll be moving on without a second thought.”

That was harsh, and admittedly hypocritical. I had intended to use Dylan as a whet stone on which to sharpen the blade that was my raging libido, so I could hardly be upset that he had intended to use me for sex. That was all I had intended to use him for. Regardless, he had embarrassed me by sleeping with Jane instead, and I was angry with him. Plus, I was irritated that my physical needs remained unsatisfied.

“It’s not like that, Kelly,” Dylan insisted. “I really like you. I wasn’t looking for a one night stand. I wanted to get to know you better. I can’t explain what happened. Maybe I had more beers than I thought. I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was like I was on autopilot. I’ve never had anything come over me like that. As soon as I saw Jane, my head got all, I don’t know, hazy. It was like I was high. Whatever it was, it wore off after you found us. Look, I understand that you don’t want to have anything to do with me. What I did was unforgivable, but I just need you to know that…I don’t know, I’m not that kind of guy. Something just came over me. I can’t explain it.”

Again, I was unsettled by how Dylan’s explanation for his behavior paralleled the explanation Jane had given me about why she had slept with Astrid. Something seemed amiss.

“Just forget it,” I said, and turned away from Dylan.

I took my seat in class beside Nadine, who said, “Lover boy looks like you just shot his dog in front of him.”

I watched as Dylan slinked into class with a wounded look on his face. He took a seat in a distant corner of the room, and looked down at the floor.

“Yeah, well, you know what they say, love is a battlefield,” I said.

“You’re a heartbreaker, Kelly Rodriguez,” Claudia said.

I shrugged indifferently.

A few minutes later, class began.

Professor Werner, a heavyset bald man with only some scraggly gray hair running along the sides of his head dressed in a sharp dark blue suit, took his place in front of the class and said, “Good morning, class. Today we shall continue with our previous lecture on the distinction between promises and contracts. Miss Samir, can you please refresh the class’s recollection on that distinction?”

Claudia, who was sitting beside Nadine, snapped to attention.

“Uh, yes,” Claudia said. “Well, the difference is a contract is enforceable in court, a promise is not.”

Professor Werner shook his head irritably.

“No! No! No!” Professor Werner barked loudly enough to make Claudia jump in her seat. Nadine and I did the same thing. I think Professor Werner made the entire class jump.

“You did not pay attention,” Professor Werner accused Claudia. “That degree of dereliction is inexcusable in my class. I will not abide dilettantes. I have a sacred charge to make you wise in the ways of the law, and I have no tolerance for those who approach the study of law with lackluster commitment. I need your commitment. Surely someone was paying attention.”

Professor Werner turned his sharp gaze away from Claudia with disgust, as if she had just vomited in front of him. Claudia looked like she was on the verge of tears. Professor Werner glanced at Nadine, who withered under his stare. He turned his nose up at her, perhaps feeling that she made for inadequately challenging prey. Finally, Professor Werner turned to me.

Professor Werner’s eyes met mine for a moment, then his eyes lowered to my chest. There, in front of the entire class, he took a few moments to stare at my ample breasts. Perhaps he thought his eyes lingered on my chest too briefly for anyone to notice. And maybe he was right, maybe the glance was too subtle for anyone else to pick up on it. But men leered at me constantly, and I had become a connoisseur of all the different methods men had for sneaking glances at my body, or, in some cases, just blatantly gawking at me. It was as obvious to me that Professor Werner was fantasizing about what my breasts must look like exposed as it was to everyone else in the room that Professor Werner was as bald as a worn out tire.

After what felt like an eternity but could not have been longer than a few seconds, Professor Werner lifted his gaze up from my breasts and looked me in the eye again.

“Miss Rodriguez, enlighten the classroom,” Professor Werner commanded. “Explain the distinction between a promise and a contract. Speak loudly. Fill the room with your brilliance.”

Maybe on a different day I would have been intimidated by Professor Werner. But in that moment, I was tired, angry, and horny. I was in no mood to be fucked with, least of all by some lecherous bloated, blowhard. Professor Werner had messed with the wrong bitch.

I started by arching my back to stick my big boobs out as far as they would go. Every guy in the room was probably beginning to sprout a hard-on, Professor Werner included, and I could feel the eyes of every woman in the room rolling back with contempt…and envy. I leaned forward and rested my plump breasts on the desk in front of me before grabbing a loose lock of hair hanging from the end of one of my pigtails and wrapping it around my forefinger playfully, then stared up at the ceiling for several long moments as if straining to formulate a response.

Just when it seemed as if Professor Werner was about to erupt with anger at my delay in responding to his query, I said in the most syrupy, kittenish tone I could muster, “The distinction between a promise on the one hand and a contract on the other is that, unlike a promise, a contract requires a mutual, bargained-for exchange of benefits and obligations between the respective parties, a concept which is referred to in the the relevant nomenclature as ‘consideration.’ A promise is merely the undertaking of a unilateral obligation by a promisor without any consideration given. The flaw in the reasoning of my colleague, Ms. Samir, is that she fails to recognize that a promise given without legal consideration may nevertheless be enforced by a court through the exercise of equitable principles where the promisee has justifiably relied on the promise of the promisor to his or her detriment. Moreover, Ms. Samir’s response fails to take into account the fact that there are limited circumstances in which a court may refuse to enforce an otherwise valid contract, for example, where parties have entered into a contract to engage in unlawful conduct, or where the only means of enforcing the contract is by ordering the specific performance of unique services.”

After I finished providing my answer, I took the lock of hair wrapped around my finger, placed it in my mouth, nibbled on it coquettishly, and grinned.

Professor Werner’s jaw dropped. A loud murmuring arose among the other students in the classroom. Clearly I had made the desired impression.

“Eh, well…that was…eh, that was…eloquently put Miss Rodriguez,” Professor Werner said. “You were certainly paying attention during my last lecture. Kudos to you for that.”

I spit out the hair I was chewing meditatively in my mouth and said, “No. I skipped the last class for personal reasons. I got all that out of the textbook. Sorry, I mean the casebook.”

Whatever approximation of a chubby that Professor Werner had begun to sprout under all the rolls of fat he carried beneath his fancy suit must have withered and died right there in that moment, to judge by the expression on his face.

Before anyone could say anything more, a loud grunt came from the back of the room.

“My chest!” I heard Dylan shout.

I turned to see Dylan gripping his chest with both hands, a look of excruciating agony plastered across his face.

People began screaming and getting up from their seats as Dylan fell to the floor. Several students raced toward his fallen form as other students began to call for paramedics.

“Oh my god,” Claudia said. “What’s wrong with him?”

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew what was wrong with Dylan. He was having a heart attack, just like the man at the hotel bar who had slept with Astrid.

“Dylan!” I screamed.

I raced toward Dylan, but several classmates had already set up a perimeter around him and were holding everyone at bay. A number of powerful hands held me back.

Someone cried, “Make some space. The paramedics are going to need room. You can’t do anything for him.”

I kept trying to push past them, but I lacked the physical strength.

“Dylan!” I screamed again.

I didn’t know what I was trying to do. In my research on magic, I had heard of some spells that could theoretically restart a stalled human heart, but I hadn’t bothered to learn them and they were so crude that they could just as easily have caused a heart to explode. I didn’t know CPR or anything about human anatomy that could help. But I was overwhelmed with a desire to help. Dylan wasn’t just some stranger like Astrid’s victim of the day before, he was someone I had gotten to know and like in a few short days. Whatever he may have done to wrong me, he certainly didn’t deserve to die.

I felt softer, more delicate hands pull me away.

“Kelly, stop,” I heard Nadine say. “There’s nothing you can do. Stop.”

Nadine and Claudia yanked me away and practically dragged me out into the hallway.

As Nadine and Claudia hauled me away, I could hear Professor Werner, struggling to exercise some limited authority after the verbal castration he had suffered at my hands moments earlier, exclaim, “Ladies, gentlemen, campus medical staff are on their way. Let us please make some room for them by filing out of the classroom.”

Indeed, as Nadine and Claudia led me out of the lecture hall along with most of our classmates, we saw an ambulance drive over the grassy field immediately outside the hall and then saw several paramedics leap out of the vehicle and race inside.

At some point, I had stopped struggling and I stood there dumbfounded by my complete impotence. Someone I cared about was dying, and there was nothing I could do to help him.

Nadine put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, honey, I’m sure they’ll take care of him and Dylan will be all right.”

Claudia gently padded me on the back and said, “It’s all in God’s hands now, Kelly. You need to have faith.”

“God’s hands,” I repeated blankly. “In God’s hands. I have to go.”

I ran away from Nadine and Claudia with the same speed I had exhibited after getting handed the football during a game back in high school.

“Where are you going?” Claudia called after me.

I didn’t bother to explain.

I ran all the way to the parking lot. I made my way to my car and popped open the trunk. I reached in and pulled out the copy of On the History of the Blinding of the Prophet Tiresias and the Legacy Thereof I had bought the day before. Then I ran to the library.

Chapter Fifteen

I burst through the front door of Erica’s magic shop and shouted, “I know what she is!”

Erica ignored me. She was standing behind the counter and, standing across from her, was a burly man sporting a thick beard and sunglasses dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a leather vest with lettering stitched onto it that read “The Red-Eyed Bastards.” They were both too engrossed in their own conversation to pay me any mind.

“I’m not asking for your judgment, lady, do you carry it or don’t you?” the burly man asked.

“I don’t care what you’ve heard or who you’ve heard it from, I run a reputable business,” Erica said. “I don’t sell ground up unicorn horn.”

The burly man looked around nervously, and only then did he notice me. He looked me up and down then quickly turned back to Erica.

“Keep it down, lady,” he said. “Nobody’s got to know my business.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Erica told him. “If you don’t leave voluntarily, I will feel compelled to use a banishing spell.”

“All right, take it easy, I’m going,” the burly man said.

He walked toward the door, glaring at my chest as he did so.

“Nice tits,” he said to me with a smirk.

“Fuck off, loser,” I barked.

The man laughed as he walked past me. He opened the front door and held it open as he turned back to me and said, “I like you, mama. If you ever feel like riding with the Red-Eyes, you come and ask for Armando. I’d like to see how you ride.”

He laughed again and continued walking away, letting the door close behind him. Moments later, I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving up and driving away.

“Who was that?” I asked as I approached Erica at the counter.

Erica shook her head.

“Just some lowly thug off the street who thinks I’m as low as he is,” Erica said.

“Is there something wrong with selling unicorn horn?” I asked.

“Let me put it to you like this, Kelly,” she said. “How would you react if someone came up to you and said they were looking to buy a teenage sex slave?”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Come on, you already know my answer to that,” I said.

“Being asked if I sell unicorn horn is not that different,” Erica said. “With that unpleasantness behind us, how can I help you, Kelly?”

I placed my copy of On the History of the Blinding of the Prophet Tiresias and the Legacy Thereof on the counter, opened to a specific page, and pointed at a passage.

“It’s right there, Erica,” I said. “A man can be transformed into a succubus if he commences intercourse with one and drives it to orgasm without releasing his seed into her.”

“A succubus?” Erica said. “No, Kelly, that can’t be right. Succubi are otherworldly spirits who visit men in their dreams and drain their mana. They don’t ordinarily take physical form.”

I nodded.

“You’re right,” I said. “But this section of the book talks about human-succubus hybrids. The first of them came into existence thousands of years ago during the rise of the fertility cults. They’ve been around ever since.”

I had spent most of the day in the library on campus pouring over On the History of the Blinding of the Prophet Tiresias and the Legacy Thereof. Gender swaps among humans had their origins in ancient fertility cults. In the ancient world, many sorcerers thought that women were closer to divinity because, like the gods, they could create life. Some sorcerers came to believe that they could tap into that divine feminine power by transforming male subjects into females and then manipulating the life-creating forces of their newly female servants. It was thought that the feminine power of males who were transformed into women was greater than that of naturally born females because, in sacrificing their masculinity, they were currying favor with the gods.

In an effort to raise themselves up to the level of gods, a few sorcerers created fertility cults, sacrificing the masculinity of young male virgins by transforming them into girls then forming harems out of the feminized youths. By draining men of their masculine life force and exploiting the female energy of the transformed slaves, the sorcerers who led these cults increased their power and were able to use magic to improve crop yields and make the harvests of early civilizations more productive. These cults still existed throughout the world in the modern day, although magic practitioners had expanded their interests beyond increasing crop yields to more lucrative goals, like increasing the value of their stock portfolios or gaining influence over political leaders.

The fertility cults of the ancient world had taken a particular interest in succubi, transfixed by the ability of the succubi to drain men of mana as they slept at night through the use of erotic dreams. Hoping to harness the power of the succubi, sorcerers and their harems used magic to trap the spirits and tried to bond with them. Succubi were able to take physical form for brief periods of time, and the attempts to bond with them resulted in the creation of human-succubus hybrids.

“They’re like vampires,” I continued explaining to Erica. “Except instead of feasting on human blood, they feed on…uh, well…semen.

“How does that lead to gender swaps or heart attacks?” Erica asked.

“It’s not the semen itself they want,” I said. “Unlike true succubi, human-succubi hybrids feed on masculine energy, not mana. Semen only serves as a vehicle for the transfer of a victim’s masculine life force. By feeding on that life force, a hybrid gains vitality, strength, youth, beauty, prolonged lifespan, and other benefits. A hybrid can drain just enough of a man’s masculine energy to increase her power without seriously harming the man, but when a hybrid drains a man of too much energy too quickly, it can cause death. Usually this will express itself as a sudden respiratory or cardiovascular episode, like a heart attack or suffocation, so it looks like natural causes or an accident.”

“That explains the man at the hotel who slept with Astrid, but what about Jane?” Erica asked.

“This is where things get really crazy,” I said. “To drain a man of his masculine life force, a human-succubus hybrid releases a burst of energy from her body through an orgasm. This orgasmic energy causes the masculine life force to flow into a man’s semen, but it briefly fills the man with the hybrid’s mana. In the ordinary course of things, her mana will flow out of the victim with his semen and masculine life force. But if the victim doesn’t ejaculate and the hybrid’s mana stays inside him, it corrupts his mana and consumes it, transforming the victim into another human-succubus hybrid.”

“That would certainly explain why the transformation spell didn’t work on Jane,” Erica observed. “Because transformation spells are ineffective against succubi, it stands to reason they wouldn’t work on human-succubus hybrids.”

“Exactly,” I said.

“It sounds like you saved Jane’s life,” Erica said.

“What?”

“The impotence spell,” Erica said. “That must be why Jane wasn’t able to ejaculate and expel Astrid’s mana.”

“Oh, right,” I muttered.

I hadn’t realized that Jane’s transformation into a hybrid was my fault until Erica had pointed it out. I felt bad about that, but Erica was right. The impotence spell may have saved Jane’s life.

“How did Jane react to the news?” Erica asked. “She was horrified when she thought she had been transformed into a woman, she must have had a nervous breakdown when she learned she’s no longer completely human.”

The feeling of gratification I had experienced upon solving the mystery of Jane’s gender swap abruptly dissipated, replaced by sorrow over the events that had transpired earlier.

“Oh, Erica, that’s the worst part,” I said. “Jane doesn’t know, I haven’t had a chance to tell her. Last night, Jane slept with the classmate I invited over, a guy named Dylan. She must have used her lure on him without even realizing it and drained most of his energy because this morning he had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital now and I don’t know if he’s going to pull through.”

“Goodness!” Erica exclaimed. “That’s terrible!”

Succubi had a natural lure that they used to draw men to them, sort of like a mystical pheromone they could direct at their victims to draw them in. My research had indicated that hybrids also possessed a lure.

“Erica, I feel like absolute crap,” I said. “Dylan is really a sweet guy, he was just overcome by Jane’s new power. This morning, just before he suffered his heart attack in class, I was angry at him over the fact that he had slept with Jane. I totally chewed him out and…oh my god! I just realized what this means. The same thing happened to Jane. She didn’t betray me when she slept with Astrid! She was just manipulated by Astrid’s lure, just like Dylan was manipulated by Jane!”

My heart did a joyful somersault. I hadn’t realized how hurt I still felt over Jane’s betrayal until that moment, when I realized Jane hadn’t betrayed me at all. She really did love me, she had just been Astrid’s victim, no more to blame for what had happened to her than a fly caught in a spider’s web.

My sudden elation quickly turned to grief again when I reminded myself that the man I had loved and with whom I had hoped to spend the rest of my life was now an inhuman monster, driven to feed off the energy of unsuspecting men. Nothing in my research had indicated that it was possible to reverse the process that turned a man into a human-succubus hybrid. As far as I knew, the love of my life was forever trapped in her new form.

Erica brought me back down to Earth by saying, “Kelly, you need to focus. Where is Jane now? You need to help her gain control over herself before she hurts anyone else.”

Tears began to flow out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

“I don’t know,” I said between sobs. “After I found her in bed with Dylan, I told her to get out and she ran off. I don’t know where she is and the police are looking for her. Last night, just before I found Jane and Dylan in bed together, a detective stopped by my place to ask me questions about her disappearance…I mean, Johnny’s disappearance. They think Jane may have had something to do with it. What did I ever do to deserve this? The man I love has been transformed into a monster, the police are after him, another guy I care about is in the hospital, and there’s nothing I can do to fix things.”

Overcome with hopelessness, I continued crying.

“That’s bullshit, Kelly,” Erica said as she put her hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Most people faced with the sort of problems you’ve dealt with in the time I’ve known you would have folded and raised a white flag of surrender. You confronted your problems head on and overcame them. Now get ahold of yourself.”

I nodded. I sniffed a couple of times and made a concerted effort to stop the flow of tears streaming out of my eyes.

“You’re right,” I said. “There’s work to be done. I need to find Jane. Then I need to figure out a way to turn her back into Johnny. And I need to find a way to help Dylan.”

“One step at a time,” Erica said. “As far as finding Jane goes, that’s the easy part.”

“Really? How?”

Erica laughed.

“Kelly, you’re talking to Madam Zolga. I’m a psychic, remember? I may not be a particularly skilled practitioner of magic, but when it comes to scrying, that’s no challenge at all.”

I smiled.

“How could I be so stupid?” I said. “Where’s your crystal ball? It shouldn’t take you long to find Jane.”

“Come this way,” she said as she led me toward the back of her shop.

We entered a room decorated like a living room with some couches and chairs, and a table with a glass sphere cradled in a small wooden stand. Erica and I sat down at the table and she recited a brief incantation.

The crystal ball began to glow a pale violet hue. Erica placed her hands around the crystal ball and focused on it intently. An image like a clump of rain clouds began to form within the crystal ball. Erica continued to focus and the cloud-like mass within the sphere formed into crude figures of people seated at a counter. Then the image came into focus and I could see Jane sitting at a bar, a glass of wine in hand, several men seated near her casting glances in her direction. Jane wore a pensive expression on her face, and she kept looking around suspiciously.

“Oh no, it looks like she’s already looking to feed,” I said. “Where is this place?”

“Give me one moment,” Erica said.

The image in the crystal ball changed to show the exterior of a trendy bar with a sign out front that read “Heartbreakers.” I quickly looked it up on my phone and saw that it wasn’t far away.

“I need to get over there and stop her before she hurts anyone,” I said as I got up from the table.

Erica gripped me by the wrist and said, “Wait. What if she tries to hurt you? I don’t know anything about succubi hybrids, but most mystical beings can easily hurt a normal human. Who knows for sure what abilities she may have?”

I thought about it for a moment. Erica was right, I didn’t know anything about hybrids beyond what I had read in a book. For all I knew, Jane was so consumed by her need for masculine energy that nothing else mattered to her.

“I’ve got to try and help her,” I said. “Somewhere in there is the man I love. There has to be some way to get him back.”

I pulled away from Erica and dashed out of her shop.

Chapter Sixteen

Happy hour was well underway at Heartbreakers by the time I walked inside. The crowd of patrons in the bar were making a raucous when I walked in, and the smell of alcohol was thick in the air. I looked around at all the handsome, virile young men who were staring right back at me with covetous eyes. The place was a turkey shoot for any woman looking for a quick hook up. For Jane, with her mystical lure, it was nothing short of a slaughterhouse.

With all the easy targets that filled the place, I feared I was already too late. Then after a few minutes, I spotted Jane still sitting at the bar, several men eyeing her like hungry lions. Little did they suspect that they were the ones on the menu.

I minced up to her and said, “Jane, I need you to come with me. We have a lot to talk about.”

Jane turned to look at me with an expression of shock on her face.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Magic powers, remember?” I said. “I got them.”

Jane grunted.

“Magic, yeah, I know,” she said. She waved her hand across her body, “That’s how I got into this mess. You must be having a good laugh seeing me like this. Is this what you wanted? To have me worked up like a bitch in heat? With all these urges? Okay, you’ve had your fun. I get it. This is my punishment for what happened with Astrid. I can’t make you change me back into a man, but I won’t be your plaything anymore.”

Jane got up and walked toward the door. I ran after her and stepped in front of her to block her path. Jane abruptly stopped.

“Jane, wait, you’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “I didn’t do this to you, but I’ve figured out what happened. And I know you didn’t mean to cheat on me. Astrid used a kind of magic to seduce you. I know it wasn’t your fault. Come with me and I’ll explain everything.”

Jane glowered at me.

“Forget it, we have nothing to talk about,” Jane said. “Do you remember saying that to me when I reached out to you for help after this happened to me? I do. Now fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Jane, please, I care about you and I want to help you,” I insisted.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

How was I supposed to prove to Jane how much I care about her? How was I going to make her understand that I was still in love with the man she used to be? How could I prove to Johnny that I still loved him, even trapped as he was in the body of a mystical being? Then it hit me.

I reached over to Jane, wrapped my arms around her, and pressed my lips agains hers. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and used it to gently massage hers. I heard wolf whistles, catcalls, and cheers come from the drunken bar patrons all around us. I ignored them. For the briefest possible moment, I was with the man I loved again, and my world looked a little brighter.

Then I pulled away from Jane and stared at her stunned face. That was when I realized what I had done. I had just kissed a girl. Granted, it was actually a human-succubus hybrid who had once been my boyfriend, but it looked like a girl. And I was repulsed by what I had done. I looked at Jane’s frail frame, her soft muscles, the demure little bumps that passed for her breasts, and I felt a little nauseous. If I had needed a reminder that I was strictly a heterosexual woman, that kiss had given it to me.

Jane took a step back.

“That was weird,” she said.

“Uh, yeah, but hopefully I made my point,” I said.

“And what point was that?” Jane said. “That you’re a closet lesbian?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “My point is I care about you.”

If there was one thing I was sure of in that moment it was that I was not a lesbian. I hoped with all my heart that I would be able to transform Jane into the gorgeous hunk she had been. The little nymph she had become wasn’t doing it for me.

Jane sighed.

“I’m going to sit down and order a beer,” she said. “You have until I’m done with it to explain everything.”

Jane sat down at the counter and ordered a beer from the bartender, who was thankfully female and unaffected by her magical charms. The bartender set an open bottle down in front of Jane, and she took a long swig.

I took a deep breath.

“Okay, so there are these spirits called succubi that come from another world and visit men in their dreams to steal their mana,” I said.

Jane raised a finger at me and said, “Hold on a minute.”

Then she took another long swig from her beer and completely drained it.

“I’m going to need another beer for this,” Jane said as she ordered another beer from the bartender.

“Right, well, thousands of years ago, these succubi managed to breed with humans, for lack of a better phrase,” I continued. “This interbreeding resulted in the creation of human-succubus hybrids, beings that look like human women but who possess incredible power. To maintain their power, hybrids have to drain men of their masculine energy. As long as they feed on masculine energy, these hybrids possess enhanced strength, vitality, beauty, and extended lifespans, among other things.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Jane asked as she finished her second beer and ordered a third.

“I think Astrid is a human-succubus hybrid,” I said. “And I think she accidentally transformed you into one.”

“Great,” Jane said. “Now I’m some sort of life-sucking spirit monster. How exactly do I drain men of their energy?”

I knew this part wasn’t going to be easy for Jane.

“The way you did with Dylan last night,” I said.

Jane slammed her beer down on the counter and said, “You mean I need to have sex with men to stay alive?”

She said that loudly enough for several people around us to stare at her and give us strange looks.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I said.

Jane continued guzzling down beers as I explained what I had witnessed Astrid do to the man at the hotel bar the day before, and what had happened to Dylan. Then I explained how hybrids absorb masculine energy. By the time I was done explaining, I think Jane had drunk enough beers to kill a normal human woman.

“This is a lot to take in,” Jane said. “I’m not sure which is worse, being a spirit monster who feeds on semen, or the fact that I almost killed a man.”

I gently placed my hand on Jane’s.

“Babe, I know this is all completely insane,” I said. “The important thing is that I’m going to help you through this. You didn’t do anything wrong. Astrid used her lure to ensnare you against your will. You didn’t cheat on me, not by choice. You were as powerless to resist Astrid’s lure as Dylan was to resist yours. You were an innocent victim, and you’re still every bit the man I fell in love with. I’ll figure out a way to get you back to your old self.”

Jane waved her hands over her body, like a show room model waving her hands over a brand new car.

“You call this every bit the man you fell in love with?” she said in disbelief. “I have boobs and a vagina, Kelly. I’m going crazy with sick urges. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want a rock hard cock right now. I’m not a man. I’m not even a woman. I’m a freak. I’m supposed to perk up because you’ve forgiven me for sleeping with Astrid against my will? Thanks. Small consolation. On top of…wait a minute. Why did I turn into a monster when Dylan only suffered a heart attack?”

I winced. This was about to get even more unpleasant. I explained the mechanics behind a man’s transformation into a hybrid.

“Ugh,” Jane grunted. “This was your fault after all. If you hadn’t put that impotence spell on me, I would still be human.”

“Didn’t you hear what happened to Astrid’s latest victim?” I asked. “You would be dead right now if I hadn’t cast that spell.”

“Being a monster is a fate worse than death,” she said.

“Babe, I’ll find a way to make you human again,” I said. “We can work past this and get back together.”

“Yeah?” Jane said. “Okay. What’s your game plan for making me normal again?”

That was a good question. I didn’t have a good answer. I hadn’t found any information about transforming a human-succubus hybrid into a normal human. But it had to be possible. I mean, I had previously changed reality somehow. Or I thought I had. If I could do that, there must be someway of reversing what had happened to Jane.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I may know someone who can help.”

Chapter Seventeen

“You’re not exactly filling me with confidence here,” Jane said as I pulled into the trailer park. “Your friend is a witch and she can’t magically make a better place to live than a mobile home?”

“I never said Summer was a witch,” I pointed out. “Summer’s aunt, Chastity, is a witch. Summer just knows a lot about magic because she was raised by Chastity.”

“Why don’t we go see Chastity instead? Maybe she knows how to make me human again.”

I sighed.

“Chastity doesn’t like me,” I said. “Long story short, she hates me for encouraging Summer to move in with her fiancé Teddy. That and Chastity hates men generally, so the fact that I used to be one is another reason for her not to like me.”

It was dark by the time we reached Summer’s place. My car’s headlights flashed onto a pale blue double-wide mobile home that sat under a sagging oak tree. I parked out in front of the mobile home and shut off my car’s engine.

Jane followed me as I stepped onto the home’s porch and knocked on the front door. It opened and we were greeted by the sight of a barrel-chested white guy in his forties dressed in a flannel shirt, jeans, and a trucker’s hat. He was holding an open bottle of beer in one hand. A smile spread across his face as he recognized me.

“Hey, Kelly, always good to have you drop by, little lady,” he said as he wrapped me up in a bear hug.

“It’s always good to drop by, Teddy,” I said as I hugged him back. After I was done hugging Teddy, I took a step back and gestured at Jane. “This is my friend Jane. We came to talk to Summer.”

Teddy stared at Summer with a slack jaw.

“Hello there, Miss Jane, a real pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Teddy said as he shook Jane’s hand.

Jane took Teddy’s hand and looked him over like a butcher sizing up a chunk of meat.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Jane said in a sultry tone of voice with a predatory smile on her face.

Teddy led us into the living room and excused himself to go grab Summer, looking over his shoulder to sneak a glance at Jane.

Once Teddy was out of earshot, I turned to Jane and said, “Don’t use your lure on him.”

“What?”

“You basically have the ability to hypnotize men to make them sleep with you,” I said. “I think you can do that to any man. It’s what Astrid did to you and what you did to Dylan. Don’t do that to Teddy.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Jane protested. “He’s a hot slab of man-meat for an older guy, I’ll admit that, but I’m not doing anything to him. I mean, there’s sure plenty I would like to do to him. Ugh. These urges are driving me nuts. I feel like I want to hop into bed with every man I see. This is hell.”

“Don’t hop into bed with this one,” I cautioned. “Just try to get your urges under control.”

“Aunt Kelly!” a young boy shrieked as he ran into the room and hugged my legs. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, Brent,” I said as I picked up the four-year-old and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. Chastity’s son was absolutely adorable.

I put him back down, turned toward Jane, and said, “Brent, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is my friend Jane.”

Brent’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Jane.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Jane.

Jane glowered and said, “A whole lot, kid.”

“Brent, please go play with your toys in the other room,” Summer said as she walked into the living room.

Standing by the entrance to the kitchen was a stunningly gorgeous blonde girl in her early twenties who wore a white crop top and a revealing denim skirt. She was slim but her muscles were toned, and she had perfectly sculpted curves. Her skin was sun kissed and smooth. She was a petite girl with small, delicate hands and feet, but still taller than me at about five-foot-two. Her breasts were massive. Looking into Summer’s face, I noticed more than a passing resemblance to Chastity that unnerved me a little. Chastity was a scary woman.

I minced up to Summer and hugged her warmly. Summer grinned and hugged me back.

“Girl, it’s so good to see you again,” I said.

“You, too, honey,” Summer said. “I never see enough of you. I’m sure you’ve been up to the devil’s work, haven’t you?”

“Girl, you do not know the half of it,” I said.

Teddy bolted past me and Summer, practically knocking me down in the process, and stood beside Jane. He wrapped an arm around Jane and said, “Honey, this is Kelly’s friend Jane. You think she can stay for dinner?”

I looked at Summer, nodded toward Jane, and cleared my throat. Summer noted my gestures, then looked Jane over.

“Teddy, can you excuse us girls for a few minutes?” Summer said. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Oh sure,” Teddy said. “Why don’t I go set the table for dinner to make sure there’s a seat for Jane?”

With that, Teddy lumbered out of the room, once again looking over his shoulder to sneak a glance at Jane.

When he was gone, Summer looked at Jane and asked, “What’s a matter, girl, you cast a love spell you can’t control?”

“What?” Jane said.

“My man only has eyes for me,” Summer said. “With him making eyes at you like that, the only explanation is that you have him under a spell.”

“That’s why I brought Jane here,” I said. “It’s not a love spell. Jane has a much bigger problem than that.”

The three of us sat down on the couch in the living room and I explained the entire sordid story to Summer.

“Oh lord, I’m sorry about what’s happened to you, Jane,” Summer said. “Being a woman is a gift, but being a semen demon is a curse.”

“Tell me about it,” Jane said.

“You’re familiar with human-succubus hybrids?” I asked.

Summer nodded.

“Unfortunately I am. A demonic spirit that drains men of their life force? Aunt Chastity loves succubi. She thinks hybrids do the world a public service by getting rid of men. She’s not crazy about fertility cults because she doesn’t like sorcerers and doesn’t like the idea of them draining women of their divine power, even if those women used to be men. But the succubi? Yeah, she’s a fan. A bunch of her friends are succubi. I met more of them than I care to think about.”

“Is there any way to reverse a transformation into one? Can I get my Johnny back to normal?”

Summer stroked her chin with one hand and and cast her eyes off to the side.

“Hmmm. Transformation spells are out of the question. When a man turns into a succubus, it changes his very soul. That succubus mana won’t even let you change the body, it’s just that strong. Making a wish with a djinn could work, but it would drain Jane’s mana, of course. Plus, I hear djinn don’t really care for succubi mana. They don’t like the taste of it. Pure humans are better for them. And you can never find a djinn when you want one. They only turn up at the worst possible time.”

“Tell me about it,” I interjected as I rolled my eyes at the memory of my drunken encounter with Mort, the djinn who had transformed me into a woman.

“A soul transfer would work,” Summer continued. “Sort of. If you could find a man willing to swap bodies with Jane, you could at least put her in a male body. But she would still have the spirit of a succubus and still need to feed on men. She just wouldn’t have the body to feed on men. I can’t think of anything else. Maybe Aunt Chastity knows a way to reverse the transformation. She would never tell me.”

“It’s worth a try,” Jane said. “Give me her number. I’ll call Chastity and ask.”

“You don’t understand,” Summer said. “Aunt Chastity would tell you you’re perfect just the way you are. She would never help you become a man again.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask,” Jane said.

“Girl, let me tell you about Aunt Chastity,” Summer said. “I wasn’t born this way. I used to be a boy, too, just like you. I used to hang around with a rough crowd and Aunt Chastity thought I would mellow out if she turned me into a girl. She said it was only temporary, just to teach me a lesson. Look how well that worked out for me.”

“She lied to you?” Jane asked. “She just left you like this?”

“Not exactly,” Summer said. “Being a girl didn’t get me to calm down, just the opposite. I got a little out of hand with all the attention boys showed me. I was only a girl for a few weeks before I got knocked up. Aunt Chastity offered to turn me back into a boy anyway, but she told me I would lose the baby. I decided to stay a girl. I’ve got no regrets, but if that’s how she treats her own flesh and blood, how do you think she’ll deal with you?”

Jane sighed and let her shoulders slump down.

“This is pointless,” Jane said. “I’m stuck like this.”

“Don’t lose hope,” I said. “I’ll keep looking for a way to set things right.”

“Sure,” Summer said. “Just because I don’t have an answer for you doesn’t mean there isn’t one out there.”

“That’s a nice thought, but what am I going to do in the meanwhile?” Jane asked. “I need a man. I can’t resist these urges any longer. But if I act on these urges, I’m going to end up killing someone. I can’t deal with this.”

“Wait a second, no one ever said you had to kill a man to feed on him,” Summer said. “You can drain just enough energy from a man to satisfy your hunger without killing him. You need to be careful, but you can do it.”

“Really?” Jane said hopefully. “I hope you’re right, because I need to hop into bed with a man. Any man.”

“Not my man,” Jane said. “You have to do whatever you have to do, but leave Teddy alone.”

“Oh, Jane, please don’t give in to your urges,” I said. “I know you didn’t want to sleep with Astrid or Dylan, and I know these feelings you’re having aren’t your fault. I forgive you for all that, but I can’t stand the idea of you sleeping with anyone else. Once I find a way to get you back to normal, we can be together again.”

“I can’t fight it much longer,” Jane said. “These urges are too powerful.”

My heart sank. When I realized that Jane had just been an innocent victim, I had filled with hope that she and I could reconcile. Seeing her give in to her new nature robbed me of that hope. It was like I was losing her all over again.

I reached over to Jane and gripped her hands tenderly.

“Please, babe, fight the urges,” I said. “I love you and I want be with you. Have some faith. I’ll find a way.”

Jane grunted.

“Ugh. This is unbearable. Okay, Kelly, I’ll try. But you better come up with something fast. I’m at my wit’s end.”

“It’s sweet to see you two trying to get a handle on this situation, but we’ve got a bigger problem here,” Summer said. “We can’t just let the succubus who did this to Jane keep hurting innocent men. We have to stop her.”

“What are we supposed to do?” I asked. “Call the cops on her?”

“Of course not,” Summer said. “There’s nothing they can do to stop her. We have to do it ourselves.”

I glanced around the living room. There was an empty bottle of beer on a coffee table. I picked it up.

“Jane, I love you, but I need to make a point,” I said.

“Huh?” Jane muttered.

I swung the empty beer bottle over my head and brought it down on Jane’s skull. The bottle shattered. Jane simply kept staring at me with a confused expression. She hadn’t so much as blinked an eye.

“Why didn’t I feel that?”’Jane asked, awe in her voice.

“One of the perks of being a hybrid,” I said. “You’re stronger and more durable than a human being.”

“Totally unnecessary, honey,” Summer chastised me. “I didn’t need that little stunt to know just how tough a semen demon can be. Now I have to use some magic to clean up that mess, and you know I don’t like to use magic.”

Summer pointed at the shattered beer bottle and recited an incantation. The shards of glass flew up from the floor where they had fallen and pulled themselves back together. In an instant, the beer bottle was back in one piece. I set it back down on the coffee table.

“Sorry, Summer,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Jane looked at us in bewilderment.

“Am I…am I invincible?” Jane asked.

“Hardly,” Summer answered. “There are many things that can hurt you, you’re just much stronger than us mere mortals. You’ll also live and stay young and beautiful for as long as you feed on men.”

“What exactly are you proposing that we do about Astrid?” I asked. “Kill her?”

Summer shook her head.

“We don’t need to kill her, we just need to keep her from hurting anyone else,” Summer said. She scratched her head and stared blankly at a wall for a moment. “Maybe…maybe we can send her to Hell.”

“You just said we don’t need to kill her,” I said.

“No, I mean, maybe we can literally transport her to Hell,” Summer clarified.

“Hell is real?” Jane asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not what it’s made out to be,” Summer said. “It’s not fire and brimstone and pits full of molten lava. It’s more like Las Vegas, but not as fun, just a place full of lowlifes looking for a good time.”

“Is that where sinners go when they die?” Jane asked.

“Sometimes,” Summer said. “People can go to all sorts of places when they die.”

“Does that mean that the devil and God are real?” Jane asked.

“Lucifer certainly is,” Summer said. “He runs the place. As for God, that’s a loaded question because…”

I put my hand up in front of Summer.

“Girl, as much as I would love to get lost in a conversation on the eschatology of our universe, now is not the time,” I declared. “We have more practical considerations to worry about right now. Where is Hell? How do we get Astrid there? Can we throw a sack over Astrid’s head and throw her in the back of a van and drive her there?”

Summer giggled.

“Don’t be silly, Kelly,” Summer said. “Hell is another dimension. The world is filled with portals that lead to hell. People go to Hell all the time. Some of them without even knowing it. The best thing to do is create a portal and disguise it, then lure her through it.”

“You can open a portal to Hell?” I asked.

Summer smiled and nodded.

“Oh, it’s so easy, Kelly. It doesn’t take any skill at all. It’s so easy even high school kids can figure it out. It’s a popular trick at parties. Aunt Chastity used to open gates to Hell all the time to deal with people that got on her bad side. You know how I feel about using magic. I’m not a fan. But I’ll make an exception for this. It’s for a worthy cause.”

“How can we be sure that Astrid will stay in Hell if we put her there?” I asked. “You make it sound like there’s a revolving door to the place.”

“I can cast a binding spell to keep her trapped there,” Summer said.

“You guys said magic doesn’t work on succubi,” Jane said.

“Transformation spells don’t work on pure succubi or hybrids,” Summer said. “All sorts of other magic still works on them.”

“How convenient,” Jane pouted as she crossed her arms indignantly.

“Okay, if you can open a portal to Hell, then all we need to do is find Astrid and figure out a way to lure her,” I said. “Erica can handle finding her. All we need is some bait.”

Jane grunted.

“That’s the easiest part,” Jane said. “We just find some hot young stud to get her attention. If she’s anything like me, she’s not going to be able to resist.”

A horrible idea entered my head. I regretted it the moment I thought it up, but it was the simplest solution.

“I think I have an idea,” I said. “But it’s getting late and I have class tomorrow. Can we meet up at Erica’s shop tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sure,” Summer said. “I’ll ask my next door neighbor to keep an eye on Brent for a few hours. Miss Mulholland is a doll. She won’t mind at all.”

“Good. Then we’ll meet up tomorrow.”

Chapter Eighteen

“This is a bad idea,” I said as I stood in the backroom of Erica’s shop with Jane, Erica, and Summer.

“It’s your idea,” Summer said.

“That’s why I know it’s a bad one,” I said.

I had gone to class that morning and then immediately left school to pick up Jane at home and meet up with Summer at Erica’s so-called Occult Science Academy. I had called Erica the night before to explain our plan after Jane and I had left Summer’s place. Erica had been reluctant to participate in our hair-brained scheme, and had done her best to talk me out of it. Mystical beings weren’t to be trifled with, Erica had warned me. She changed her tune when I told her I would have to buy a large amount of supplies to carry out our plan.

The dean of my law school had sent out an email that morning updating the student body on Dylan’s condition. He was alive in the intensive care unit of a local hospital. His family had been notified and were by his side. That was all anyone knew. I hoped with all my heart that he would pull through.

Jane had been glad to learn Dylan was alive, but I could tell she felt guilty about what she had inadvertently done to him. That was just a part of who Jane was, as a man or a woman. She was a good person and would never voluntarily hurt anyone.

For my part, I felt bad about how I had treated both Jane and Dylan. They had been the victims of a magical power they didn’t even understand, and I had condemned them for succumbing to that power. I was motivated to find a way to transform Jane back into Johnny so I could make it up to him.

After meeting up with Jane, Summer, and Erica, I had shared my plan with them. They had all questioned my judgment but were willing to go along with my plan. I was less sure that I wanted to go forward with it.

“We’re waiting, Kelly,” Summer said.

I stared at the noxious luminous green concoction that sat in a glass beside Erica’s crystal ball on the table in front of me as it emitted the eerie glow that had become so familiar to me.

“Before you commence with this ill-advised little adventure, I just want to register my protest one last time,”Erica said. “I don’t know anything about human-succubus hybrids, but I know something about succubi. They’re temperamental creatures, manipulative, and greedy. They’re even worse than djinn. I agree that this Astrid creature is dangerous, you’ll get no argument from me about that. From my perspective, however, the danger she poses weighs in favor of leaving her alone. There are a number of dangerous beings roaming the world. It’s not our responsibility to protect people from them.”

“What a surprise!” Summer exclaimed as she threw her hands up in the air. “The magic dealer is happy to make a quick buck, but she doesn’t want to get involved in other people’s problems. Erica, the first thing you sold when you got into this business must have been your heart.”

“I beg your pardon!” Erica said. “I am a sensible woman who believes that the better part of valor is discretion. Unlike some people, I don’t go rushing headlong into trouble. Summer, you’ve been overtly hostile to me since you arrived here. May I ask why it is that you find me so objectionable?”

Summer took several steps toward Erica and barked, “You know damn well what my problem with you is, Erica! For years you sold supplies to Aunt Chastity and her coven knowing exactly what they did with those supplies. You saw her practically make a slave out of me, and you were all smiles and hugs with her.”

“I sell valuable commodities,” Erica said. “How my customers choose to use those commodities is their business. I don’t pass judgment.”

“Pass judgment?” Summer said. “Aunt Chastity is a bride of the devil. Summoning demons, casting curses, harvesting souls…Aunt Chastity and her coven did all that and worse. And you happily lined your pockets with their dirty money.”

Erica’s jaw dropped.

“That is prejudice, pure and simple,” Erica said. “Witches have suffered persecution for centuries because of small-minded prejudice of the kind you’re exhibiting right now. You should be ashamed.”

Summer put a hand on the crotch of the skimpy shorts she was wearing and said, “I was born with a dick? Know what happened to it?”

“Come now, Summer, you know very well that you’re much happier as a woman than you ever were as a man,” Erica said. “You’ve said so yourself numerous times. If anything, you should be grateful for what Chastity did for you.”

Summer snorted.

“The guy who got me pregnant when I was a teenager and then ran off gave me my son Brent,” Summer said. “You don’t see me sending that asshole a Christmas card. I made the most of the hand I got dealt.”

“You weren’t exactly a model of upstanding behavior as a young man,” Erica said.

“You look here…” Summer began.

“Enough!” I shouted as I jumped in between Erica and Summer and pushed them apart. “Summer, whatever axe you’ve got to grind with Erica, this isn’t the time for it. Erica, take it easy on, Summer. You were the one who warned me about Chastity, so don’t play innocent, you knew what she was capable of.”

Erica and Summer glared at one another, but they stopped bickering. That was all I could ask for.

I walked back to the table where the potion and crystal ball sat waiting.

“Now before I do this, does everyone understand their part?” I asked.

Jane, Summer, and Erica each assured me that they did.

“Jane, do you have that change of clothes I gave you?” I asked.

Jane lifted up a large brown bag and said, “Right here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Now everyone shut up. This is going to suck ass.”

I kicked a pair of beige mules with two-inch heels off my feet and kicked them to the side. Then I slipped out of the faded wash skinny jeans and sleeveless black Georgette blouse with ruffle trim that I was wearing and dropped them on the floor. Finally, I removed the gray cotton bra and panties I wore.

Summer wolf-whistled and said, “Damn, I wish I had your body.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

I took a deep breath, cleared my head, recited the incantation, and then raised the glass filled with the potion to my lips.

The pain was immediate. There was a horrible burning sensation all along my chest as my breasts deflated like a pair of punctured balloons. My long silky black hair retracted into my scalp. Between my legs there was a dull, throbbing ache as my labia swelled up and fused together to create a crude scrotum, while my clitoris expanded to several times its normal size to form a moderately-sized penis. I howled in agony as my bones and muscles stretched and I sprouted up from five feet in height to six feet. I endured as much pain as I could, then I crumpled to the floor.

A moment later, I mumbled, “Did it work?”

“Get up and see for yourself,” Erica said.

Exhausted by the ordeal I had just gone through, I slowly pushed myself up off the ground. When I got to my feet, I was confronted by Jane, Summer, and Erica, who were all suddenly much smaller and had to crane their necks to look up at me. A moment later, they lowered their eyes and glanced at my crotch.
Summer giggled.

“You must be a grower, not a shower, Kelly,” Summer said with a smirk.

“I’m not complaining,” Jane said as she stared at my junk.

I cupped my genitals with one hand and reached an open hand toward Jane.

“Hand me my clothes,” I instructed in the old baritone I had not heard in months. My voice was so deep it sounded like a growl.

Jane passed me the paper bag she held in one hand. I reached inside and pulled out some boxer shorts I quickly put on. Then I slipped into a pair of relaxed-fit denim jeans and a loose black t-shirt emblazoned with the image of an angry woman stomping away from a bruised and battered man laying on the floor under the caption “Wham! Bam! Thank you, ma’am!”

As I put on a pair of black canvas shoes, Jane asked, “Is this who you used to be?”

I nodded.

“What’s the matter, babe, you don’t like what you see?” I asked.

“Au contraire,” Jane said as she snuck up behind me and squeezed my plump biceps. “I like it a lot.”

I stepped away from Jane. As I turned around to look at her, I began to say, “Stop right there, girl, I’m not interested in what you’re…”

I abruptly stopped talking. My jaw dropped. I was floored by Jane’s beauty. As a woman, I had failed to appreciate how gorgeous she was. In a man’s body coursing with testosterone, she looked like a tiny goddess. A svelte body without an ounce of fat, an hourglass figure sculpted with perfectly feminine curves, subtle yet perky breasts. My mind immediately flashed back to memories of what she had looked like naked, and I felt an old familiar stirring sensation between my legs that I had not experienced in months as I began to develop an erection.

“Cat got your tongue, honey?” Jane asked as she placed her hand under my jaw and closed my mouth.

“Stop using your lure on him,” Summer commanded.

Jane looked at Summer and said, “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

My head cleared. The part of me that was still a woman was disgusted by the feelings I had over Jane. I tried my best to think of hot, muscular men with big cocks to purge myself of thoughts of Jane’s petite, flimsy figure.

I had forgotten how quickly a physical change in sex leads to a change in sexual orientation. When I had first transformed from David into Kelly, my physical attraction to men had been instantaneous. Now that I had transformed from Kelly into David, I had zero interest in men. Thinking about naked musclebound men caused my nascent erection to subside.

My erection and the discomfort I had felt as it pressed against my pants had served to remind me how uncomfortable male genitalia were. As a man, I had taken for granted the way my penis constantly jostled around between my legs, bumping against my scrotum and inner thighs. Over the years, I had simply grown used to the perennial discomfort. It wasn’t until my transformation into Kelly, when I was bestowed with a functionally simpler and more streamlined set of genitals, that I realized how uncomfortable it was as a man to lug around my genitals as they dangled between my legs all the time. Now that I was male again, the discomfort I felt at hauling my genitals on the outside of my body was not a welcome sensation. Being spared that discomfort was one of the many things I preferred about being a woman.

I took a second look at Jane. Yes, she was beautiful. I enjoyed the look of her, but I didn’t feel an overwhelming urge to hop into bed with her.

“I’m thinking straight now,” I said. “Good job, Jane. Whatever you’re doing right now, keep doing it. Don’t use your lure.”

Jane looked back at me and said, “Uh, okay. I’ll try.”

“All right, enough goofing off,” I said turning to Erica. “Erica, you’re on.”

Erica stared back at me longingly.

“Hello,” I said. “Earth to Erica. Are you there, girl?”

Erica blinked several times in rapid succession.

“Oh, sorry Kelly, I got distracted,” Erica said. “I, uh, didn’t realize you were such a handsome man.”

“You girls are starting to make me feel like some sort of dyke,” I said. “That’s especially weird considering that I have a penis again.”

The four of us gathered around the table with the crystal ball and watched as Erica began to scry. She focused and an image of Astrid began to come into focus. She was in her office meeting with a client.

“Hopefully she goes out to feed soon,” I said.

“She’ll feed soon,” Summer assured me. “Succubi are pigs. They eat as often as they can get away with it. No offense, Jane.”

Jane shot a dirty look in Summer’s direction.

“Pure succubi do tend to be quite ravenous,” Erica agreed. “I can’t speak as to the habits of hybrids.”

Not much later, we saw Erica leave her office, get into the driver’s-seat of a luxury sedan, and drive to a fancy restaurant. She went inside and was escorted by the hostess to the bar where she took a seat and ordered a glass of wine. It was early in the evening and it would be a while before a crowd arrived to offer her a choice of victims.

“It’s show time, girls,” I said.

Chapter Nineteen

I stepped into the restaurant wearing a black slim fit suit jacket and pants with a blue shirt and red tie. The hostess asked me how many there were in my party, and I told her I was alone and would take a seat at the bar.

I had been caught off guard by Jane immediately after my transformation back into David Rodriguez. I hadn’t realized how powerful a succubus’s hold over a man was until Jane had used her lure on me. Thankfully, Jane had managed to gain enough control over her newfound ability to keep from ensnaring me again. I had hardened myself to that power and planned to exercise more control in Astrid’s presence.

The moment I laid eyes on Astrid, however, all that went out the window. I thought she had been breathtaking as Kelly. As David, I fell in love instantly. She was a holy vision. Ancient civilizations had worshipped succubi as divine figures, and I could understand why.

Astrid’s alabaster skin, platinum blonde hair, and pale blue eyes betrayed Nordic blood. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, strapless black dress that barely stretched down to her thighs. I gazed at her perfectly toned body and massive breasts. She had seemed so imposing when I had been five-foot-tall Kelly, she seemed much more delicate now that I was six-foot-tall David. I was completely captivated by this vision of womanhood. I knew that I was there as part of a plan to stop her from feeding on men, but in that moment, all I wanted was to get Astrid out of that dress and have sex with her.

I ambled over to Astrid, leaned on the counter beside her, and said, “Wow, you’re hot!”

And that clumsy opening line was exactly why, as David, I had still been a virgin at twenty-two.

Astrid turned to me and laughed the sexiest laugh I had ever heard.

“Thanks,” she said in a sultry tone of voice that sent waves of excitement into the core of me. “But why don’t you try telling me something I don’t already know?”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “Well, my name is David, and I’m in law school.”

Astrid put her hand on mine, looked into my eyes, and smiled warmly at me.

“It’s a pleasure, David,” Astrid said. “My name is Astrid. What brings a tall, dark, and handsome stud like you here tonight? Did you come to keep little old me company tonight?”

A part of me realized I was caught in Astrid’s lure and wanted to run as far away from her as I could. That part of me that deep down was still Kelly was disgusted by how badly my male body wanted to get naked with Astrid and fuck her. The part of me that was in control of my motor functions only cared about getting closer to Astrid. Who I was and why I was there meant nothing to me. I only wanted to give Astrid whatever she wanted, tell her whatever she wanted to hear.

I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “I came here tonight to stop you. I know you’re a human-succubus hybrid. I know you feed on men. I can’t let you keep doing that.”

The words flowed out of my mouth even as a part of me fought to hold them back, to say anything other than the truth.

Astrid’s eyes widened for a moment. Then she threw her head back and laughed an intoxicating laugh that made my penis stiffen to attention. I wanted her so badly, even as I feared she was going to kill me.

“What are you?” she asked smiling broadly. “Another demon hunter trying to make a name for yourself?”

“No,” I answered. “I just saw what you did to that guy at the hotel the other day and I read a lot of magic books. I read about succubi in some of those books.”

“Is that so?” she said. “You’re a would-be sorcerer, are you? You read a few books on magic, cast some spells, and you think you can take on a demigod? You must feel pretty stupid about now, powerless and completely at my mercy.”
I nodded.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m terrified you’re going to kill me. But I really want to fuck you.”

Astrid laughed again as she pulled me close to her and leaned her head against my shoulder. She put her hand on my chest and gently rubbed it. Then she glanced down at my crotch, where my stiff erection was on full display.

“I can see that, David,” Astrid said. “You poor fool. You have no idea how ridiculous you look right now. Over the centuries, I’ve fed on countless numbers of men, draining them dry and leaving them to die. I’ve feasted on the life force of sorcerers, warlocks, kings, great warriors, demon hunters, wizards, and beings you probably can’t even imagine. And you, a little man who reads magic books, thought you could stop me? Yes, David, tonight you’re going to die. I’m going to take you to bed, drain all your energy out of you, and you’ll probably be dead by morning. How does it feel to know you’re going to die as nothing more than a mere snack for me?”

In a calm, measured tone of voice that betrayed nothing of the horror I was feeling within, I said, “I’m panicking right now, but I can’t make my feet work to run.”

I looked out at the handful of other people in the restaurant. They were all going about their business as if nothing was amiss. Of course they were. To an outside observer who wasn’t listening in on our conversation, I was just a young man picking up a gorgeous woman at a bar. Astrid and I were practically whispering, the expression on my face was blank, and Astrid was all smiles and laughter. No one around us had any reason to suspect that Astrid was planning to kill me.

“Come on, David, let’s get out of here and get this over with,” Astrid said. “No point in delaying the inevitable.”

Struggling against Astrid’s power with all my might, I forced out the words, “I have a room at a hotel across the street. I was planning to take you there and cast a banishing spell on you.”

“A banishing spell?” Astrid said. “That’s cute, David, really. Did you find the spell on an online magic chat group or something? Well, that banishing spell isn’t going to do you any good tonight. But that hotel room makes things convenient. Let’s go.”

Astrid locked her arm with mine and held my hand as we walked out of the restaurant.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked in a tone of voice devoid of emotion. “You don’t need to kill me to feed on my energy.”

Astrid nodded.

“That’s true,” she said. “Some of my sisters allow their prey to live. They have a soft spot for mortals, I guess. Not me. I’ve been around long enough to know that sympathy isn’t worth wasting on men. I should know. I used to be one, a long, long time ago. That and, honestly, I’ve got a big appetite.”

As we entered the hotel lobby, I summoned another burst of mental strength and managed to say, “Maybe you could become a man again? Then you wouldn’t have to do this.”

Astrid laughed once more, but it wasn’t the warm, sensuous laughter she had exuded at the restaurant only moments before. This was a harsh, malevolent sound that sent chills up my spine.

“That ship has sailed,” Astrid declared. “I’d rather die than be a man again. Mortal life is nothing but a flicker of candlelight compared to the sunlight of my existence. Oh, David, you can’t begin to imagine the wonders I’ve witnessed, the experiences I’ve had, the power I possess. To be human again after all that…I’d rather die.”

We went up the elevator and I led her to the hotel room. Once we were inside, she closed the door behind us. Then she picked me up and literally threw me on the bed.

“I’m going to drain you dry, you arrogant little man,” she said as she approached the bed and began to unzip her dress. “Stop me? If you only knew! Better men than you have tried and failed. What made you think you were so special?”

As strange as this sounds, I was actually willing to die if it meant getting to have sex with Astrid. Nothing else seemed anywhere near as appealing as sleeping with her. My life seemed like a small price to pay for the opportunity. Buried deep down in my psyche as David, however, Kelly was still alive and kicking and she was extremely pissed. It was Kelly, not David, who forced the words out of my mouth.

“What makes me so special?” I said. “I’m not a man, that’s what.”

Then I recited the incantation and Astrid stopped in her tracks.

“What did you say?” Astrid asked.

“Fuck you!” Jane said as the cloaking spell wore off and she became visible and tangible standing by the door behind Astrid. “That’s what she said.”

Then Jane punched Astrid in the back of the head. Astrid fell to the ground and Jane kicked her in the ribs.

Astrid’s lure lifted and I regained control over myself. I sprang out of the bed and rushed over to Astrid. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a glass vial that I threw at Astrid. The vial shattered against Astrid’s chest, spilling a viscous purple slime all over her dress. From that slime, a tangle of thick green vines sprouted forth and began entangling Astrid in their grip. The vines continued to grow, wrapping around Astrid and constricting her. As Astrid struggled in the grip of the vines, Jane continued kicking Astrid as she wriggled on the floor.

I began to think we had managed to subdue Astrid, when she stretched out her arms and tore apart the vines that ensnared her. Once she was free of the vines, Astrid leapt to her feet.

Turning to Jane, Astrid cried, “You brought a friend! Now you’re both going to die!”

Astrid punched Jane in the chest, knocking her back several steps.

Recalling my high school football days, I lunged at Astrid and tried to tackle her to the ground. I may as well have tried to tackle a boulder. I threw all my weight into the tackle and Astrid didn’t budge an inch. Astrid stood her ground and sent me flying back to the bed with a flick of her wrist.

Ignoring me, Astrid moved toward Jane and said, “What? Are you one of those succubi who thinks draining is murder? Is that why you’re working with this wannabe sorcerer? You know, it’s one thing to be against eating men, but to turn against your sisters, that’s disgusting.”

“My sisters?” Jane said. “You turned me into a freak!”

Jane swung her fist at Astrid, who ducked out of the way with ease. Astrid threw a punch that landed in Jane’s stomach. Jane grunted in pain. Then Astrid struck Jane with an uppercut to the chin.

As Jane recoiled, Astrid said, “Don’t tell me you’re that guy I didn’t finish off! The one whose girlfriend caught us and then couldn’t get it up afterward! You should get down on your knees and thank me! There are so many men who work all their lives just for a chance to become what we are! I’ve made you a demigod!”

“Those guys are welcome to this!” Jane shrieked. “This is a nightmare!”

“A nightmare?” Astrid said. “If your girlfriend hadn’t found us and been such a cunt, you would have ended up as an hors d’oeuvre.”

“Cunt?” I yelled as I leapt onto Astrid’s back. “I’ll show you a cunt!”

I tried to gouge her eyes out, but they were as tough as the rest of her. She flung me off her back.

When I landed on the ground, I recited another incantation. A lavender bubble formed around Astrid. She tried to push through it, but was held at bay.

“Your little parlor tricks aren’t going to stop me,” Astrid said as she began punching the bubble.

Small cracks began to form in the bubble.

“Summer, drop the illusion and help us deal with this bitch!” I yelled.

The door to the hotel room burst open. Standing outside in the hallway was Summer, her arms extended above her head and her eyes closed tight, reciting an incantation in Latin.

An instant later, the illusion of the hotel room that we were standing in faded away, replaced by the sight of a vast open desert full of fine yellow sand stretching out as far as the eye could see under a crimson sky, with two dazzling blue stars and several small moons dangling overhead. The open doorway leading to the hallway in the hotel remained, suspended unnaturally a few inches above the desert sand, and Summer stood in the doorway continuing the incantation.

Astrid punched the bubble one last time, causing it to shatter like brittle glass.

As she looked around in bewilderment, Astrid said, “Hell? You lured me into Hell? Good luck keeping me here!”

Astrid charged toward me and Jane. Before she reached us, a lightning bolt darted out at her and struck her right in the chest. Astrid was flung back several feet.

I turned to see Summer standing in the floating doorway, her hand outstretched in Astrid’s direction. She had finished reciting the incantation and had hit Astrid with the lightning bolt.

“I’ve cast the binding spell, get your asses out of there!” Summer cried.

I grabbed Jane by the wrist and pulled her toward the portal out of Hell.

“Wait!” Astrid called out. “I can make you human again!”

Jane stopped dead in her tracks, and I abruptly jerked forward as my hand remained clasped to her wrist. I turned around to see Jane staring at Astrid, who was pulling herself up from the desert sand where she had fallen. Her dress was badly singed where she had been struck with the lightning bolt. I couldn’t help but think that it was a shame to have ruined such a beautiful dress.

“That’s right,” Astrid said. “I know how to turn you back into a mortal man. I’ll do it.”

“Then do it,” Jane said.

I kept tugging on Jane’s arm, trying to get her to move. It was no use. She was too strong. Her feet remained firmly planted where she stood.

“Jane, you can’t trust her,” I said. “She’s a murdering psychopath.”

Jane pulled her arm away from me.

“If you can make me human again, do it,” Jane demanded.

“I will,” Astrid promised. “I only need you to do something for me.”

“What?” Jane asked.

“Bring me that witch,” Astrid said, pointing to Summer, who stood on the threshold of the portal back to Earth. “Bring me the witch who cast the binding spell.”

“Don’t do it, Jane,” I said.

“That’s all you have to do,” Astrid said. “Bring her to me, and you’ll be a man again.”

Jane stared at Astrid for what felt like a long time.

Then, finally Jane shouted, “Fuck off!”

In one swift motion, Jane turned away from Astrid, threw me over her shoulder, and dashed toward the doorway out of Hell. As I rested on Jane’s shoulder, I looked back and saw Astrid chase after us at superhuman speed. I had once seen a cheetah at a zoo sprint across its enclosure as part of a demonstration put on by the zookeepers for the sake of visitors. I had thought at the time that the cheetah looked impossibly fast. The way Astrid moved now made that cheetah look like a slug.

Just as Astrid caught up to us, another bolt of lightning cut through the air and hit Astrid square in the face. I heard Astrid shriek as she fell back onto the desert sand.

Jane leapt through the doorway and dropped me onto the floor of the hotel hallway. Beside us, a winded Summer recited another incantation in Latin. The image of Hell, with Astrid laid out on the sand unconscious, disappeared and was replaced by the sight of a mundane two-bed hotel room not unlike the illusion Summer had cast earlier.

I got up off the ground and stood as Summer turned toward me and Jane and said in exasperation, “I…closed…the portal. It’s…over.”

Summer then closed her eyes and began to collapse to the ground. I reached out and took Summer in my arms before she hit the ground. I was worried for a moment that I wouldn’t be able to support her weight, but in my male body, lifting up a tiny girl like Summer took no effort.

A door down the hall opened abruptly and a red-haired woman in a bathrobe stuck her head out to say, “Hey, keep it down out there. People are trying to sleep.”

The red-haired woman disappeared back into her room and slammed the door behind her.

I carried Summer into the open hotel room and motioned for Jane to follow me. I lay Summer on one of the beds in the room as Jane closed the door behind us.

“What happened to her?” Jane asked.

“It takes a lot of energy for an ordinary person to summon a lightning bolt, let alone two,” I said. “On top of that, she opened and closed a portal to Hell and cast an illusion to make Hell look like a hotel room. It takes a huge toll on mortals to use that much magic. It’s no surprise she passed out.”

“I thought Summer was a witch,” Jane said. “Isn’t magic what witches do?”

“Chastity is a witch,” I said. “Summer hasn’t pledged herself to a demon or some other entity, she’s like me, she’s just an ordinary girl who knows how to use magic.”

Jane giggled.

“Honey, there’s not a damn thing ordinary about you,” Jane said with a smile. “And at the moment, there’s not much about you that’s a girl. Not that I’m complaining. I kind of prefer the new you…which, I guess, is the old you. Or the real you. Or I don’t know. This magic stuff is confusing.”

I smiled back at Jane.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “The more I learn about magic, the less sense it makes. Come on, let’s give Summer a chance to rest for a while.”

Chapter Twenty

As Summer slept a deep sleep, I sat with Jane on the other bed in the room.

“Do you really think Astrid would have turned you back into a man if you had turned Summer over to her?” I asked.

Jane sighed.

“I want to believe that,” Jane said. “I want to believe there’s a way to get back to normal. But, no, I don’t think she was telling the truth. I think she would have said anything to escape Hell. From what Summer said, it doesn’t sound like she’s going to enjoy her stay.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

“Oh, Kelly, uh, I mean, David…or whatever…I think that if I’d actually believed Astrid could make me a man again, I would have done what she wanted,” Jane said as she planted her face in her hands. “I feel so ashamed to admit that, but it’s the truth.”

I patted Jane on the back gently.

“It’s Kelly,” I said. “David was never who I was meant to be. Being back in this body just serves to remind me of that. I was honestly never much of a man. It’s not for me. You’re the kind of person who should be a guy. As a guy, you were confident, comfortable, self-reliant, totally at ease with yourself. It was what attracted me to you. That, and the fact that you were smoking hot. I was never comfortable in my skin as David. Kelly is who I am. Who I was always meant to be. Once we tie up a few loose ends, I’m going back to being her and putting this part of my life behind me, hopefully forever.”

Jane put her hand in mine. Then she planted a kiss on my cheek.

“I think you’re an amazing person, Kelly, as a man or a woman,” Jane said. “I’m lucky to know you. Also, I’d like to point out that, when all is said and done, you saved my life. If you hadn’t cast that impotence spell after you found me with Astrid, she would have finished what she started and I would be dead right now. I may not be happy to be what I am but, like they say, where there is life, there is hope.”

I stared at Jane. It was strange to admit, but I was still in love with her. A few days before, I had been a woman in a relationship with the man of my dreams. Now I was a man, and the man of my dreams was now a woman…sort of. That didn’t change the fact that the person sitting beside me was my soulmate. I had another crazy idea.

“Jane,” I said, “I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. Astrid used you. What happened wasn’t your fault. Even when I thought you had betrayed me, it didn’t change how I felt about you. It just meant I didn’t think I could be with you. Knowing the truth now, I’m still sure I’m meant to be with you. I can’t be with you as Kelly. I’m not a lesbian. That’s not going to happen. But I can be with you like this. If you can learn to control your needs, maybe we can find a way to make a relationship work with me in this body.”

Tears began to flow out of Jane’s eyes.

“Do you mean that?” Jane asked. “Would you really give up your life as Kelly to be with me?”

I nodded.

“Jane, you’re my soulmate,” I said. “I would give up anything to be with you.”

“That’s the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me,” Jane said as she wrapped her arms around me.

I looked Jane in the eye for a moment, then bent forward to kiss her. We kissed for a long time.

Then I pulled off the blouse she was wearing and unclasped her bra. As I massaged her small, delicate breasts, she pulled off my jacket, undid my tie, and removed my shirt. I gently pushed her down against the bed and unbuttoned her pants, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear. Then I pulled off my own pants and the boxer shorts I was wearing.

As I spread her legs apart and positioned my erect penis over her moist womanhood, Jane gazed into my eyes and said, “This is dangerous. Do you know what you’re doing? If I can’t control myself, you could…”

I pressed a finger against her lips to silence her.

“I know what I’m doing,” I said. “This is what I want. I know this is what you want. I’m sure you’ve been wanting this for a while. Let’s allow ourselves to enjoy the moment.”

With that, I pressed my manhood against Jane’s quivering vaginal lips. She gasped as I came up against the entrance to her vagina itself. I felt immense resistance as I pushed into Jane. She was so tight down there. It felt like a strong hand was gripping my member tightly. It was delightful. I dug further into Jane, and she moaned as her muscles gave way before my assault.

This was not the first time I had sex with a woman as David. Although I had been a virgin when I first transformed into Kelly, after figuring out the transformation spell and using the djinn ring to change reality, I had briefly become David again. In that alternate reality, I had transformed a lecherous former male coworker named Hunter into a flirtatious and ditzy young woman named Tiffany as a way of getting back at him for his treatment of me as Kelly. Tiffany had no conscious recollection of her former life as Hunter, although Hunter’s personality was very much a part of her, conscious of Tiffany’s actions but powerless to do anything to control those actions. To further my revenge against Hunter, I had gotten into a relationship with Tiffany while I was David. I had slept with her several times before deciding to alter reality to become Kelly again so I could be with Johnny.

My brief experience with Tiffany had shown me that sex was physically more enjoyable for a man than for a woman. A man’s orgasm feels better than a woman’s. That said, there’s a mental component to sex that a woman experiences which a man is forever deprived of knowing. As I made love to Jane, I found the physical aspect of it thoroughly enjoyable, but the part of me that remained a woman yearned for that lost emotional component. Losing that element took a lot of the pleasure out of the sex.
It was strange to think that I had gotten laid more often as a man after my transformation into a woman than I had as a man originally. That is, twice as opposed to never.

Jane moaned with pleasure as I thrust in and out of her. I felt her suddenly tighten around me as she howled in ecstasy. I felt a certain level of smug satisfaction at the realization that I had made her orgasm. She released several more howls of pleasure before my cock spasmed and I filled her with my manly fluid.

I collapsed beside Jane in bed, a feeling of warm satisfaction washing over me. Jane nestled her face against my chest and stroked my biceps as I ran my hands over the soft skin of her back, arms, and legs, savoring the feel of her body against mine.

“Did you mean what you said?” Jane asked. “Are you going to stay like this so we can be together?”

“Of course I…” I abruptly stopped talking.

The fog I had been under had worn off. I realized what I had done, and I began to suspect why I had done it.

I loved Jane. I had loved her when she was a man, and I loved her now that she wasn’t even human. I had loved Jane when I was a woman, and I loved her now that I was in the body of a man. But I didn’t belong in a man’s body. I was a woman, had always been meant to be one, and would never be happy any other way. While my relationships with other women were sacred to me, I could never be in a romantic relationship with a woman. That just wasn’t part of who I was.

I turned to Jane and said, “Jane, I love you. I’m always going to love you. And I’m going to do everything I can to get you back to your old self. But this isn’t who I am. I can’t stay like this. Did you…did this happen because…”

“I’m sorry,” Jane said as she pulled away from me. “I didn’t mean to do this. We were sharing a moment and I…please, you have to believe me. I didn’t mean to trick you. I was being open with you and I thought you wanted this.”

I wasn’t sure what to believe. All I knew for sure was that I cared about Jane, and I didn’t want to make her situation more difficult.

“It’s…uh, it’s fine,” I said as I got out of the bed and began getting dressed.

Jane followed suit and soon we were fully clothed, staring at one another awkwardly.

“Were you able to control…to limit…you didn’t drain me, did you?” I said.

“No,” Jane assured me. “I just took a little bit. I swear. I’m starting to get a handle on how all this works. It has been an adjustment, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

I nodded.

“Uh, okay,” I said. “Let’s see how Summer’s doing.”

We both pretended as if nothing had happened as we checked on Summer.

Chapter Twenty-One

Summer woke up less than an hour after my tryst with Jane. She was exhausted from her use of magic and we practically had to carry her down to her pickup truck once we checked out of the hotel. I drove Summer’s pickup while Jane followed us in my car. We dropped Summer off at her home and stayed with her until she felt well enough to pick up Brent from her neighbor’s house where he had spent the night. Teddy was out on an interstate haul that would keep him on the road for nearly a full week.

As Summer slowly got up from her bed, she said, “Don’t get the wrong idea about what I did last night, Kelly. You know how I feel about magic. I’ve seen what it does to people. It’s like a drug, the more someone uses it, the more they want of it. I know I can’t stop you from learning about magic, but please be careful.”

“I didn’t start learning about magic as a hobby,” I said as I helped her out of bed. “My life took a weird turn the day I found that djinn. I’m not responsible for Jane meeting Astrid, either. I hate to say it, but I let the genie out of the bottle the day Mort granted my wish and transformed me into a woman. I can’t protect myself from the mystical forces of the world by pretending they don’t exist. More importantly, I promised Jane that I will keep looking for a way to make her a man again. I can’t give up on magic now.”

Summer sighed.

“I know,” she said. “Well, I’m going to try and cut down my use. But whenever you need my help, you know you can count on me.”

“Thanks, girl,” I said as I gave Summer a hug.

Although I still intended to search for a way to turn Jane back into Johnny, Jane and I were both realistic about the fact that it was going to take time. Therefore, my immediate concern after we had dealt with Astrid was getting the police to call off the investigation into Johnny’s disappearance. With Jane’s help, I came up with a plan to take care of that. I used the transformation spell to make myself look like Johnny. Then Jane and I met up with Johnny’s family and told them that, after being found cheating on me with Astrid, Johnny had gone into a deep depression and gotten extremely drunk. During that time, Johnny had met Jane, a young woman who had just returned from a year-long stay at a temple in Yucatán run by a fertility cult that practiced a unique form of transcendental meditation. The members of the temple believed that, through practicing meditation and using powerful hallucinogens, it was possible to transfer one’s consciousness into another. Jane had convinced Johnny to try it, and he had been so moved by the experience that he had decided to give all his worldly goods to charity and move to the temple in Yucatán. Johnny had just returned briefly to explain his decision to his family and say farewell. Johnny’s family was disconsolate and pled with him to disavow Jane and give up his ridiculous plan, but Johnny was committed to his path.

After meeting with Johnny’s family, we meet with Detective Miller and shared the same cover story with him. I could tell Detective Miller was suspicious, but he also had several other cases to worry about, cases with missing persons who may have been kidnapped or murdered. He didn’t have the time to worry about some crackpot who had joined a crazy cult.

There actually was a fertility cult with a temple in Yucatán. They were extremely secretive and turned away outsiders. Any attempt by Johnny’s family or the authorities to look further into his claims wouldn’t get very far. In the guise of Johnny, I did my best to dissuade them from asking questions.

The cover story established, I went home and eagerly used the transformation spell to change back into my true self. It was such a relief to be a woman again, and I hoped with all my heart I would never have to be a man again. I hated being a man and I was no good at it.

With my own identity restored, I focused on creating a new one for Jane. Despite her claims to the contrary, Erica did know some less than reputable people with special skills. She was able to help Jane obtain a fake identity, complete with counterfeit driver’s license, birth certificate, social security number, and other documentation. It was an extremely demanding and costly venture, but over the course of several weeks, we worked to create a legal existence for twenty-one-year-old Jane Navarro, a young woman from Chaparral Terrace who had just come back from spending a year abroad in Mexico. We used up what little of Jane’s cash she still had on hand and I had to dig deep into my student loans. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay for my law school tuition next semester, but I would have to worry about that later.

My roommates didn’t have any problem with letting Jane share my room in the townhouse until she could get on her feet. Unfortunately, while we could falsify academic degrees, it would have been a lot harder to falsify an employment history for Jane. While Johnny had been an engineer at an oil refinery, Jane had to settle for taking a job as a waitress at a restaurant near the townhouse called Doña Fortuna’s. As fate would have it, that was the restaurant where Johnny and I had gone on our first real date. There was a bitter irony to Jane working there, but somehow it felt like we had gone full circle.

I felt extremely fatigued for several days after we dealt with Astrid, but beyond that, there was no sign that sleeping with Jane had caused me any permanent harm. As the days passed, Jane felt more and more confident that she had gotten a handle on her abilities. To the extent that she hadn’t killed me when we slept together, I began to think she was right.

My law school dean informed the student body that Dylan had made a full recovery, but rumors made their way around campus that he was taking a leave of absence and wouldn’t return to school for a while. I tried calling him to see how he was doing, but he didn’t return any of my calls. I was glad to hear he was doing better. I only wished I I could talk to him and apologize about how I had treated him after he was seduced by Jane. Considering how much I would have to tell him to explain what had really happened, maybe it was for the best that I wasn’t able to talk to Dylan.

Jane cautiously began to feed on men, careful to only take enough of their energy to satisfy her needs but not enough to seriously hurt them. She had no trouble at all finding willing victims at bars, nightclubs, coffee shops, supermarkets, or anywhere else where men with heartbeats and functioning libidos could be found.

I had mixed feelings about Jane indulging her nature as a human-succubus hybrid. While I couldn’t maintain a relationship with her now that she was in a female body, I still had feelings for her. She was still the man of my dreams, even if she was no longer a man. It honestly hurt me to see her getting involved with other people, even if it was just sex and even if she only did it because her new mystical form required it. I hoped that, despite everything that had happened, we could maintain the deeply meaningful friendship that had formed the basis of our romantic relationship.

About a month after we had banished Astrid to Hell, Erica invited Jane, Summer, and I to her shop late one evening. Summer had been reluctant to accept the invite, so I prodded her about it until she relented and tagged along with me and Jane. I really wanted Summer and Erica to bury the hatchet.

When the three of us arrived in Summer’s pickup and parked out in front of Erica’s shop, we were surprised to find that the gold lettering over the main entrance of Erica’s shop that had read “Madam Zolga’s Occult Science Academy” had been replaced with gold lettering that read “A Touch of Magic.”

Beside the new sign was the image of a woman dressed in an outfit reminiscent of a stereotypical magician’s assistant: knee-high leather boots, fishnet stockings, a collar with an elegant bowtie around her neck, and a long tailcoat jacket unbuttoned to reveal a pair of briefs below a white corset. The woman held a wand in her right hand which she pointed at an upturned top hat she held in her left hand. There was a playful smile stretched across the woman’s face, and one of her eyes was winking.

Summer looked at me and said, “A little too lively for Erica’s taste, don’t you think?”

“People change,” I said as I walked toward the front door.

“Don’t we know it,” Jane said.

Jane and Summer followed me into the store, where we found Erica pouring champagne into four glasses laid out on the counter beside the cash register.

“Felt like we needed a change, did we?” I said as I approached Erica.

Erica smiled.

“A change worked wonders for all three of you,” Erica said as she set the champagne bottle on the counter. “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Summer asked.

“Consider this a grand reopening of sorts,” Erica said as she motioned for us to take the glasses. “I’ve thought about the way the three of you have changed my perspective on what I do to earn a living. Magic is more than just a skill or an art form. Studying and teaching magic is a calling, an important one. Magic can change our lives for the better or for the worse. The knowledge I sell comes with an obligation to be socially responsible, to consider how one’s actions may affect others. I’m going to approach my calling with a new philosophy. From now on, I’m not just in this business to make a quick buck, as they say. I’m going to make a concerted effort to help those who cross my path who may be in need of some help. Also, I’ve decided to take some advice a couple of friends recently gave me and give my store a trendier name.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Summer said as she picked up a glass. “I’ve made it clear to all of you that I have my issues with magic, but if you’re going to practice magic, I think that’s the right attitude to have about it. And I like the new name. Sounds classy.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Jane said as she grabbed a glass.
“Hear! Hear!” I said lifting up my own glass.

Erica raised her glass high and said, “Ladies, a toast. To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” we all echoed.

We drank the champagne.

“Speaking of new names, maybe you girls should give your little group a name,” Erica suggested. She thought for a moment before saying, “How about the Former-Boys Club?”

I exchanged sour looks with Jane and Summer.

“I’m not a fan,” I said. “We can brainstorm suggestions later after we’ve drank more champagne.”

The girls laughed.

As we continued enjoying the champagne, the door to the shop opened and the bell hanging above the door rang. A young auburn-haired woman in a cream-colored long-sleeved knit top blouse, teal knee-length skirt, and a pair of flats walked inside. She had a troubled expression on her face.

The young woman looked at us and said, “Excuse me, but I was wondering if someone could help me with an unusual problem I’m having.”

I glanced at Erica, Summer, and Jane. All three of them stared back at me. I set down my glass of champagne and turned to the woman.

“I think you came to the right place.”

Wishful Thinking

Chapter One

“After dinner, we went for a walk on the beach,” Hunter said as I sat at my desk typing on my keyboard. “We made our way to a quiet spot in the shadows and had sex right there on the sand.”

He chuckled.

I continued working as Hunter prattled on about his sexual escapades. I hadn’t asked him about his night out with his girlfriend or given any indication that I was interested in hearing about it, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed a captive audience and would have kept talking even if I had told him to shut up.

“Have you ever had sex in public?” he asked rhetorically.

“I can’t say that I have,” I answered.

It was true. I had never had sex in public. Or in private. I was twenty-two-years-old and still a virgin. To my embarrassment, I had managed to graduate from college several months earlier without so much as having kissed a girl.

The few people I had shared that information with had been surprised to learn that I had never slept with a girl. I guess I should have been flattered that people were shocked to find out I was a virgin. I was six feet tall with an athletic build, a good-looking guy. But none of that takes you very far when you have no friends and zero social skills. I had been a loner since I was a kid and never gotten along with others very well. Naturally, it had led to a lonely life.

I wasn’t about to share the fact that I was a virgin with Hunter, who fancied himself a womanizer. We shared an office at the law firm where we both worked as paralegals. It was my first real job. I had applied for the position because I figured I would eventually enroll in law school and I should get some work experience in the legal profession to find out what it was all about. So far, I wasn’t thrilled with the work. The practice of law wasn’t as sexy or exciting as it appeared to be on television and in the movies. Yeah, there was plenty of human drama, but I wasn’t exactly drawn to drama.

Case in point, Hunter spent most of the workday telling me about all the crazy sex he was having with his girlfriend and going over his lifetime of sexual experiences, from losing his virginity in a movie theater at the age of thirteen to an older girl to the orgies he had participated in while in high school. We were almost the same age and his anecdotes put my own lack of experience in perspective.

“Hi boys,” a playful voice called from the doorway. An attractive woman a couple of years younger than me stood in the doorway wearing a tight-knit green sweater and black skirt, staring at us with a large stack of papers in her hands.

“Hey, Brooke,” I said. “What’s up?”

Brooke was a secretary who worked for one of the associate attorneys at the firm named Henry. She was a hot, dark-haired girl with tan skin and a slim figure. Her nice curvy rear was her best feature. Granted, her breasts were small to the point where she was nearly flat-chested, but that was hardly a deal-breaker. I had a thing for her and was glad for any opportunity to talk to her at work. Unfortunately, she was sleeping with Henry, and I had no chance with her. Not that I would have had a chance even if she were single. Story of my life.

Brooke sashayed over to my desk with a glib smile on her face and plopped the stack of papers down in front of me.

“We received these discovery requests from opposing counsel today and Henry wants draft responses prepared for his review by Monday.”

It was already Thursday, which meant I would probably have to work late tomorrow to have those responses ready in time. I might even have to request overtime to come into the office over the weekend.

“Sure thing,” I told Brooke.

“Thanks, sweetie,” Brooke said with a grin. “I knew I could count on you.”

With that, Brooke walked out of the office, swinging her big, round ass back and forth invitingly as she left.

Hunter chuckled again.

“She’s got you whipped, and you’re not even fucking her. That’s sad, David.”

The entire firm seemed to know that I had a crush on Brooke. Brooke definitely knew and took advantage of my feelings for her by constantly shoveling the worst work assignments onto my desk.

“It’s my job, man,” I said. “What am I supposed to do? Tell her to fuck off?”

“No. Tell her you want to fuck. Come on, you’ve got nothing to lose. You want her, go for it. Women like a man who goes after what he wants.”

I knew better than to argue with Hunter about women, so instead of taking the bait, I said, “Do you ever think about anything other than fucking?”

“There’s nothing else worth thinking about. Except money. And money is only worth thinking about because the more of it you have, the easier it is to get laid.”

Not long afterward, the attorney who ran the firm, Mr. Baxter, barged into our shared office. He was dressed in a drab dark-gray suit that fit awkwardly over his stocky frame. It made me glad that I didn’t have to wear a suit to work. As paralegals, it was fine for Hunter and me to wear business casual. I was dressed in a blue button-down shirt and khaki pants. It was a good look on me.

“How’s it going, boys? Is the draft of the motion I asked for ready?”

Hunter and I had been assigned to prepare a discovery motion a few days earlier. He had done some research on the issues involved while I had drafted the bulk of the motion itself. I had even stayed at the office late the night before to make sure it would be ready today while Hunter had run off with his girlfriend.

Hunter grabbed the draft of the motion and handed it to Mr. Baxter.

“Here you are, sir. Always happy to help with anything you need.”

Incensed that Hunter was trying to take credit for my work, I stood up and said, “I made sure to include each of the arguments you asked for, Mr. Baxter, and I double-checked all the citations to ensure they were properly formatted.”

Mr. Baxter didn’t even bother to look up at me as he began rifling through the pages of the motion.

“You boys work fast,” Mr. Baxter said. “I’ll look this over and let you know if I need any revisions. David, never try to take all the credit for a team effort.”

After Mr. Baxter left, Hunter looked at me and wagged his finger back and forth, chastising me.

“You shouldn’t try to toss your coworkers under the boss, David,” Hunter said with a knowing smirk. “That kind of attitude will come back to bite you in the ass.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

Mercifully, the day eventually came to an end. As Hunter and I walked out to the parking lot, he told me about how he had recently met a new girl and was planning to meet up with her over the weekend. It was not his first time cheating on his girlfriend and it wouldn’t be his last.

“You got any plans for the weekend?”

My plans on any given weekend usually involved going to a bar and drinking myself into a black out. Sometimes, if I got drunk enough, I would try to flirt with girls who usually shot me down hard, although on occasion they would humor me. Every so often I would meet a girl online and arrange to meet up in person, although that rarely went anywhere. Generally, my weekends were dark, depressing breaks between soul-crushing work weeks.

“Not really,” I said simply.

With that, we parted ways and I got into my Toyota Corolla that I was paying off with the bulk of my paycheck and Hunter got into the BMW his parents had bought for him.

As I usually did after a long day of work, I felt like crap and thought about picking up a six-pack on the way home. Then I remembered that I had to get a dresser or cabinet to store some new shirts I had bought the weekend before. Halfway home, I turned into the parking lot of a strip mall and parked my car outside a thrift store. I had driven past the place numerous times on the way home from work and figured I would be able to find something suitable there for cheap.

The place was practically deserted. There was a musty stink in the air with a faint hint of mothballs and dust bunnies. I walked past several racks of secondhand clothing that looked too rundown even for me to consider buying. Toward the back of the store, there were several odds and ends of various furniture, everything from couches to desks to decorative portraits. All of it looked decrepit and on the verge of falling to pieces.

But it wasn’t long before I found an old oak dresser that looked like it would hold together on the drive home. It was also small enough to fit in the backseat of my car. I opened the top drawer and was pleased to find that it was spacious enough for my purposes. When I saw that the price tag listed the dresser as going for ten dollars, I made up my mind.

I went over to the cashier, an elderly gray-haired woman with thick glasses, and told her I wanted the dresser. She asked me if I needed any help carrying it out to my car, and I assured her that I didn’t. After I paid for the dresser, I hauled it over to my car with only some slight difficulty and jammed it into the backseat.

I then made a quick detour into a liquor store to pick up that six-pack I had been considering before continuing home.

I lived in a townhouse I shared with three young women. The three girls had been splitting the rent with a fourth girl who had lost her job and quickly moved out, leaving the remaining three roommates desperate to find anyone to help them make their monthly payment. They had put up an ad online and I had responded to it. The three girls had grilled me extensively when I showed up to look the place over. There was Becky, the redheaded assistant manager at a local convenience store. Ashley the beautician who hated men. And Emma the medical assistant who owned three cats. It was clear that they didn’t like me from the moment I met them, but they were desperate to find a roommate and I was desperate to find a room, so we all ended up living together in a situation that seemed like a setup for an unimaginative sitcom.

I parked in the underground garage and decided to take the six-pack up to my room before hauling the dresser up the stairs. The stairs from the garage led up into the kitchen, where I ran into Ashley, who was grabbing a diet soda from the fridge. She was a gorgeous girl with long, silky black hair and big boobs who wore heavy makeup that made her look like a high-priced hooker. She was dressed in a short, tight-fitting dark blue dress that showed off her voluptuous curves and a pair of flip-flops that put her carefully polished pink toenails on display. They matched the acrylic nails on her fingers.

“Hey, Ashley,” I said. “How are you doing?”

The expression on her face soured like she had just stepped in dog shit.

“Hey,” she said tersely before turning around sharply and walking out of the room.

That was about the extent of my relationship with Ashley. The handful of conversations we had shared since I had moved in had all gone along those same lines. It was easy to dismiss her treatment of me as an expression of her hatred for men generally, but somehow it felt more personal than that. What could I have done to earn her ire? Maybe she knew that I sometimes fantasized about her when I masturbated. Was I giving off some sort of tell?

I continued up the stairs to the second floor. My room was right beside the stairwell. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I had been given the largest room in the townhouse so that there would be justification for charging me the largest percentage of the rent. I didn’t mind too much. I could afford it and it meant that I got the bedroom with an attached bathroom. That was convenient. I also had a small balcony, which was another bonus. Unfortunately, every window in my room looked out at the apartment building next door. The unit directly across from us was shared by a group of guys and if I didn’t keep the curtains closed, we would end up staring awkwardly at one another across the alleyway. Because I was the only guy in the townhouse, the girls thought it was fine if a group of men could peak into my bedroom at all hours of the day.

I placed the six-pack on the desk beside my bed and then made my way back down to my car in the garage to get the dresser. Slowly, I hauled the dresser up the stairs and managed to get it into my room. I placed it against a wall beside my desk, opened up a bottle of beer, and took a swig. The cool taste of beer was refreshing.

I took a seat in the chair beside my desk, turned on the television in my room, and tuned in to a baseball game. It was by far the highlight of my day.

After I was three beers into the six-pack, there was a knock on my door. Before I could answer it, Emma burst in and asked, “Did you let one of the cats out when you came in? I can’t find Buster anywhere.”

Emma was a petite girl who stood about five feet, three inches tall. She was cute. I think that if she were in porn, she would have been described as a spinner. She was also deeply neurotic and annoying.

“Fuck, Emma,” I cried. “Can you knock? I could have been in here jerking off.”

“Eww,” Emma exclaimed. “Gross. I don’t need to hear about that shit, you fucking pervert. Have you seen Buster?”

“Is Buster the orange one?”

“He’s the tabby. I’ve been looking for him everywhere since I got home.”

“No, I haven’t seen him. But I’ll make sure to form a search party.”

Emma scowled at me. “Asshole.”

After she walked out of my room, I closed the door.

I felt like the unluckiest man in the world. I was sharing a home with three catty women who made my life miserable. And I wasn’t even sleeping with any of them.

Chapter Two

I continued working on the six-pack and was happy to slip away into drunkenness. Then I remembered that I had to put my clothes away in the dresser.

I opened the top drawer and shoved several shirts inside. When I tried to open the second drawer, it only came out halfway and I swore. Perfect. I had bought a broken dresser.

I looked the drawer over and saw that something was wedged into the slide mounted along the inside frame. I pried the object loose with my finger and a metal object popped out and dropped onto the floor.

I stared at a ring made of a dull gray metal. There appeared to be a turquoise stone set into the head of the ring. For a moment, I thought I had stumbled onto a priceless treasure carelessly lost in an otherwise worthless piece of junk furniture. I had heard stories of things like that happening to other people. Maybe I had suddenly become a millionaire. The fact that I was drunk only enabled my wishful thinking.

I reached down and picked up the ring. It was surprisingly heavy for something so small. Curious to see if it would fit, I slid the ring over the middle finger on my right hand.

There was a burst of heavy acrid black smoke all around me. In a drunken panic, I thought something had exploded or caught fire. I prepared to run down the stairs and out onto the street when the smoke quickly dissipated.

I coughed hard a few times as the smoke cleared and gasped when I saw a middle-aged silver-haired man standing in front of me wearing a dark navy-blue three-piece suit and matching fedora.

I grabbed one of the empty beer bottles off the floor and raised it over my head, threatening to bring it down on the mysterious stranger.

“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.

The man straightened out his collar and said, “Thanks for letting me out. I was in there for a while. You can call me Mort. I’m a djinn. And you must be my new master.”

“Djinn? Like a genie?”

“That’s what some call me.”

I brandished the beer bottle and said, “You better start making some sense, man, or I’m going to smash this against your head.”

“Take it easy, buddy.”

The stranger who called himself Mort pointed a finger at the beer bottle I was threatening him with. An instant later, I found myself holding a flower in my hand. A tulip, to be exact.

I lowered my hand and stared at the flower. I looked down at the floor to make sure the other empty beer bottles were still there.

That’s when I realized what was happening. I was having some sort of psychotic break from reality.

“I drank myself into insanity,” I said.

Mort smiled.

“You mortals always feel that way when I first show up. But take my word for it, kid. I’m the real deal. You make a wish, I grant it, the world keeps turning. That’s how it works.”

“Sure,” I said. “If you’re really a genie, why are you dressed like that? Shouldn’t you be wearing a vest and a turban and a gold earring or something? I mean, you’re supposed to be green or blue and made of smoke. You don’t look like any genie I ever heard about.”

“My people, we’re shapeshifters. I could look like that if I wanted to. I can look like anything I want to look like. But this was the height of fashion when I came out of that ring a few decades back, and I like it. So here I am.”

“And I suppose ‘Mort’ is what your mother and father wrote on your birth certificate.”

“It’s a handle I picked up way back. My actual name can’t be pronounced in your language.”

I had never experienced a delusion or hallucination before, so I wasn’t sure how to react. I decided to treat what was happening like some sort of weird dream and go along with it.

“Okay,” I relented. “The best way to lay this thing to rest is by making a wish. If you make it come true, then I know you’re not full of shit. But if you don’t, I go back to trying to bash a bottle of beer over your head. You can turn them all into flowers if you want, then at least I’ll have a bouquet.”

Mort laughed. “Okay, go ahead kid, lay it on me.”

“Give me a minute, Mort. My reasoning capacity isn’t at its best after I’ve drunk myself into a stupor. I need to figure out my heart’s desire.”

“Take your time, kid. I’m immortal. I’ve got an eternity.”

I turned off the television in a futile attempt to focus. This was my delusion and I wanted to make the most of it.

My first thought was to wish for money. Money didn’t solve every problem, of course, the number of rich people who committed suicide was proof of that. But at least money usually made a lot of things easier. But I didn’t want to waste my first wish on something so prosaic. If this guy was a genie, I was entitled to three wishes. Money seemed more appropriate for a second wish, something pragmatic but dull. For my first wish, I wanted something fun and exciting, something you couldn’t get with all the money in the world.

My next thought was to wish for a hot girlfriend, but I reasoned that I could probably get several of those once I had money. And besides, I was so terrible with people that a supermodel girlfriend would probably cause me more of a headache than she was worth.

I racked my mind. No, if I was going to wish for something, it had to be something I had always wanted but never thought I could have. Something I could only have in my wildest dreams.

Then my drunken mind came up with something so ridiculously insane that I refuse to believe it would have occurred to me had I been sober.

Throughout my life I had always had a lot of far out sexual fantasies that I’d never discussed with anyone. I would go to my grave keeping those fantasies a secret. And there was one fantasy in particular that I had always clung to, a recurring trope in the catalog of my masturbatory repertoire. It seemed too strange, honestly, but given that I didn’t really believe any of this nonsense was actually happening, it seemed oddly appropriate. I was in the middle of a mental breakdown and, hopefully, I would come out of it the next day none the worse for wear. In the meanwhile, I should indulge my craziest fantasies while I could. The fact that I’m both rash and impulsive when I’m drunk settled the matter.

I turned to Mort and said, “Okay, here it is. I’ve always fantasized about being a beautiful girl. They get the better end of the deal. Women only need to sit there and look pretty while men line up to offer them anything they want. It’s an easy life, whatever their heart’s desire, some guy is out there ready to provide it. Now that’s my wish. I wish I were a beautiful girl. Make me into a beautiful girl.”

If Mort thought there was anything odd about my wish, he didn’t let on. His expression was placid, almost disinterested.

“Now before I grant your wish, are you sure that’s what you want?”

I shrugged.

“I know it’s a little weird, but if I’m going to get my deepest, darkest wish granted, then it’s going to be a deep, dark wish.”

Mort’s question did lead me to second guess myself, but I figured I would just use my second wish to turn back into a man. Then I would still have my third wish for money. Anyway, when I settle on doing something crazy, I commit to it all the way.

Mort waved his hand dismissively.

“Kid, that’s hardly a weird wish. You’re not even the first to make it. Honestly, it’s kind of mundane. I’ve heard stuff that was really off the wall. I’m just making sure it’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

Mort nodded.

I was enveloped in another burst of black smoke. I coughed hard. For a moment, I thought my lungs were going to leap out of my throat. But, just as it had before, the smoke quickly dissipated.

When the smoke cleared, I saw Mort standing in front of me with the same placid expression he had worn only a moment before. But I immediately noticed something was different.

When Mort had first appeared, we had met eye-to-eye because we had been roughly the same height. Now I had to look up at his face because my gaze fell at the level of his chest. Either he had gotten taller, or I had gotten shorter.

The second thing I noticed was that I felt lighter. When I had hit puberty as a teenager, I had lost a lot of weight and it had made a big difference in how I felt and how I carried myself. The feeling I now had was similar. But my experience losing weight as a teenager had occurred over several months. The change I now experienced was more intense because I lost the weight in an instant.

Despite feeling lighter overall, I felt a heavy, unfamiliar weight on my chest and around my butt that had not been there before.

The last change I immediately noticed was that I was wearing footwear that had my feet positioned at a steep angle. I felt like I was standing on my tiptoes.

I looked down and was stunned. The blue button-down shirt I had been wearing had been replaced by a teal blouse and there were two massive, perfectly rounded breasts protruding from my chest. The fabric of the blouse was stretched tight over my new breasts. The blouse’s neckline was low enough to display a hint of cleavage. I could feel something tight underneath my blouse exerting pressure on my breasts, pushing them up and together. That could only be a bra.

I bent my head forward a little further so I could look past my breasts. I saw that the khaki pants I had been wearing had been replaced by a black skirt that came down about mid-thigh. Beyond the edge of the skirt I was now wearing, I saw two smooth legs that led down to a pair of black pumps.

I raised my head back up and stretched my hands out in front of my face. They were smaller now and decorated with fingernails that were colored a dark red.

I grabbed my big breasts with my dainty hands. They were way too big to fit in my palms. I gave my breasts a light squeeze and practically jumped at the alien sensation.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. This is real.”

Those were the first words I spoke after making my wish and I was shocked to hear what my voice sounded like. It was so high-pitched. I thought I sounded like a cartoon character.

“Of course it’s real,” Mort said. “I’m as good as my word.”

I felt something soft tickle my neck and I automatically reached my hand up to grab whatever it was. My hand grasped several silky strands of hair. I ran my fingers through the hair and felt it stretching all the way down past my shoulders. I raised the strands up in front of my face and marveled at their length.

I took a step toward the bathroom and almost tripped trying to walk in the high-heeled shoes I was now wearing. I kicked off the shoes. My eyes widened when I saw the length of the heels on the shoes. They must have been two or three inches long. I walked to the bathroom in my bare feet and realized how much shorter I was without the pumps.

As I made my way to the bathroom, I noticed a couple of new sensations.

I could feel my breasts bounce with every step I took. As a man, from time to time, I would feel my pectoral muscles bounce a little when I jumped or took an unusually large step. The feeling I felt now was a little like that, but much more intense. It felt as if my breasts were dribbling like a pair of basketballs on my chest. Each bounce pulled uncomfortably on muscles in my shoulders, neck, and back. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

The other new sensation I felt as I walked toward the bathroom was, in fact, an absence of sensation. For my entire life up until this point, I had a penis and a pair of testicles dangling between my legs. And all that time I had taken the feeling of my genitals bouncing around between my legs and rubbing against my inner thighs as an inescapable fact of life. But now that the familiar feeling was gone, it occurred to me that I had simply grown to subconsciously ignore the discomfort that accompanies male reproductive organs. For the first time in my life, I recognized just how unpleasant it felt to have my genitals squeezed together between my legs. I can attest to that because with my male genitalia gone, I was more comfortable. All I could feel down there now was a soft fabric pressed up against my tender flesh. It was like I had spent my entire life with a thick rope wrapped around my neck, scratching and chafing me, and now I had finally cut off the rope.

As I stepped into the bathroom, I turned the light on. There was a full-length mirror hanging on one wall of the bathroom. My jaw dropped as I stepped in front of the mirror and saw my reflection.

I was stunning. When I looked at my face in the mirror, I could see that there was a strong resemblance in most of my features to the man that I had been. My nose was a little smaller, my lips a little thicker, and my eyes slightly more elongated, but my new face basically looked like a more feminine version of what it had been before. It was also apparent that I was now wearing some make up. Lipstick, mascara, and eyeshadow to be precise. My eyes were still the same shade of light brown they had always been, and my skin complexion was the same light caramel color that it had been before. They went nicely with my long black hair, which had a slight bounce to it that gave it volume. I ran my hands through my hair and noticed how much thicker it was now than when I had been a man. I liked the silky feel of it against my fingers.

But it was what I looked like below the neckline that really blew me away.

My arms and legs were slim with delicate hands and feet. I wiggled my tiny fingers and toes, intrigued by how fragile they looked.

My hips were pleasantly curvy, but not overly thick.

I turned slightly to the side to be greeted by the sight of a pert little round behind.

My stomach looked flat without any excess fat.

And, of course, there were my massive breasts. It was difficult to tell exactly how large they were because I had to consider the fact that I was now much smaller than I had been as a man.

I looked over to the shower stall and noticed that the showerhead, which had been just an inch or so above my head as a man, was now nearly out of reach. I estimated that I was now roughly five feet tall.

If my estimate was accurate, then maybe my new breasts weren’t as big as they looked. Maybe my new petite frame was so small it made what would be ordinary breasts on any other woman look large on me. In any event, I was now at least as much a “spinner” as Emma.

Although I was impressed by their apparent size, what I admired most about my breasts was how round and firm they were. In fact, I became a little suspicious. One didn’t normally see breasts like that on a woman unless she had paid a highly skilled surgeon to install them. Curious, I grabbed my breasts and squeezed. I was again surprised by how sensitive they were and enjoyed the pleasant tingles that emanated from my breasts as I touched them. But try as I might, I wasn’t able to find any sign of implants.

They were the genuine article.

That was when I noticed that other things had changed aside from my body. The bathroom counter, for example, had only moments before been practically empty except for a soap dispenser, my toothbrush and toothpaste, a canister of shaving cream, and my razor. Now it was littered with moisturizing creams, hairbrushes, cosmetics, a couple of bras, and various other products only a woman would use.

I walked back out of the bathroom and reexamined my bedroom. Sure enough, it too had changed in unusual ways.

My bed frame had been a very simple wooden design and my bed sheets and pillowcases had been gray with a dark blue comforter thrown over them. The bed frame was now an ornate white metal work, and the mattress was decked out with a pink bed sheet and matching pillowcases covered by a white comforter.

The desk on which I placed my computer had been an ugly but functional dark brown stainless-steel thing, now it was a white hardwood executive desk with a lovely vase full of flowers positioned at one end. The computer itself was a light pink color rather than the basic black or silver that was my usual choice for electronics.

There was also a credenza beside my new desk, the top of which was lined with cute stuffed animals and other assorted decorative items, like a tape dispenser shaped like a high-heeled shoe and a ceramic clock shaped like a heart and emblazoned with a romantic poem. The shelves of the credenza were packed tight with books.

Curious, I stooped down and pulled out one of the books. The cover had the image of a handsome, muscular man in a military uniform holding a woman in his arms and bending her backward as he leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. The title was All’s Fair in Love and War. It was clearly a trashy romance novel. A quick glance at the other book covers showed me that they were all along the same vein.

“Quite an interesting taste in literature,” Mort said from behind me.

I yelped involuntarily as the book fell from my hands onto the floor. Amid exploring all the changes, I had completely forgotten about Mort.

“You weren’t kidding,” I conceded. “But what gives? I wished for you to turn me into a girl, I didn’t say anything about redecorating.”

Mort cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

“The mechanics of wishes can be a little tricky. If someone wishes for something small, I can make that happen without much trouble. But some wishes are more complicated. They lead to all sorts of unanticipated consequences. I mean, I could have turned you into some random woman, I guess, a woman with no identity, no past, no life before the wish. But I’ve found that my previous masters weren’t too appreciative of the sort of problems they faced when I did that sort of thing with them. One time, this fellow, a janitor from Newark, he wished that he were Elvis. I turned him into an exact duplicate of Elvis. Of course, no one believed he was Elvis because the real Elvis was long dead by that time. Looking back on it, I think it would have been better if I had made it so he had been born as Elvis and lived his life from start to finish that way. This guy had to settle for what I gave him and ended up becoming a successful Elvis impersonator, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” I admitted.

“Okay, well, what I did in your case is I made it so that, rather than becoming some random gorgeous broad and having to explain who you were and where you came from to everyone, I made it so that you were born female. Rather than just turning into some girl, you’re now living the life you would have lived if you had been born a girl. You understand?”

Before I could respond, I heard a loud banging on my bedroom door.

“Kelly, do you have my curling iron?” Becky shouted from outside the door.

My heart began pounding as I raced toward the door to keep it shut. I was in no condition to deal with any of the girls right now. As I dashed toward the door, I wondered who Kelly was.

Chapter Three

Before I could reach the door, the doorknob twisted and Becky stepped inside.

I was floored by her massive size. Becky was roughly five feet, eight inches tall, easily the tallest of the girls I was living with. But as a man I had still stood over her. Now, in my new feminine form, she towered over me. She was a giant and I was a pygmy.

I stood before her in stunned silence with no idea how I was going to explain what had happened to me.

“Hey, Kelly,” Becky said. “Do you have my curling iron?”

Kelly. I was Kelly. She was referring to me.

Without waiting for a reply, she marched over to my bathroom and perused the counter for a moment before grabbing a curling iron from the pile of junk there.

“Here it is,” Becky said raising the curling iron triumphantly in the air. “I want to make sure I have it before we go out tomorrow night.”

She looked at the expression on my face and stopped in her tracks.

“Are you okay, honey?” Becky asked.

“Uh…yeah,” I said in my new falsetto.

“Sorry about barging in, I didn’t think you were in here. You didn’t respond when I called you. You seem a little off, girl. Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

She eyed an empty wine glass that stood on top of the credenza beside an equally empty bottle of wine. I looked around and realized that the six-pack and empty bottles of beer had disappeared. Had they transformed into the bottle and wine glass?

“No. I was…you caught me off guard. That’s all.”

Becky nodded.

“All right. Anyway, try to get home early from work tomorrow. We’re going to pre-game in the living room before we go and do our whole girls’ night out.”

“For sure,” I said.

Becky smiled.

“Okay, see you.”

I sighed with relief and closed the door after Becky left.

Then I turned my head back and forth searching the room frantically. Where was Mort?

There was another burst of black smoke and Mort reappeared next to my desk.

“You,” I said accusingly. “That was you. You did something to Becky to make her think this is all perfectly normal.”

Mort rolled his eyes at me.

“You don’t catch on too quickly, sweetheart. I just finished explaining it to you. This is normal to everyone in the world except you. You were born a girl, and that’s the only way anyone has ever known you, as a girl. The only person who doesn’t think this is the way it always was is you. You get what I’m saying?”

It was a lot to take in all at once. If I understood Mort correctly, then my wish had completely changed the world around me. No one remembered a tall, good-looking guy named David, they only knew a cute, petite girl named Kelly. That meant any additional wishes I made could potentially alter reality in the same way. And I had no way of knowing how all those alterations, big and small, could add up. For all I knew, a simple wish could alter the course of human history in some bizarre, far-reaching way.

I was way too drunk from the beer to deal with the implications of the power I now wielded. I looked back to the empty wine bottle on the credenza. Was I drunk from the beer that no longer existed in this new reality? Or was I now drunk off the wine that did exist in this reality?

I shook my head in frustration. I was too wasted to get lost in these abstract metaphysical ponderings.

“Where did you go just now when Becky came into the room?” I asked Mort.

“That’s also a little hard to explain. See, my people, we live on another plane of existence. That’s actually where I am right now. What you’re looking at, this is an astral projection of sorts. All I did was make it invisible to her. But a part of me is always here. On this plane of existence, my astral form goes wherever the ring goes.”

He pointed to the ring I still wore on my finger.

I was starting to develop a headache from trying to understand the mechanics of it all.

“The point is that Becky and I couldn’t see you. Can you do that again for now? I’ve got a lot to think over and I want to be alone right now.”

“Sure,” Mort said before disappearing in another puff of black smoke.

I sighed. Then I looked around the room again to take stock of my situation. The ring was still on my finger. And the dresser I had bought at the thrift store was also still exactly where it had been before Mort had materialized out of thin air. Everything else appeared to have changed at least a little.

I suddenly thought of something. I searched my blouse and the skirt I was wearing for any pockets but found none. I usually carried my phone, keys, and wallet with me wherever I went and kept them in my pockets. Was that still my habit now? How could it be when I no longer had pockets?

Then I had a flash of insight. I walked over to my desk and opened the top drawer. That’s usually where I placed my wallet and keys as soon as I got home. But there was nothing in there now. Instead, I noticed a black leather purse sitting beside my computer.

I grabbed the purse and opened it. That’s where I found my phone, keys, and a small carrying case that held some cash, credit cards, and my driver’s license. I eagerly pulled out the driver’s license and examined it. Sure enough, my name was now Kelly Rodriguez instead of David Rodriguez. The license also stated that I had the same birth date but now listed my height as five feet tall and my weight as one hundred and three pounds. No wonder I felt so much lighter, I was a foot shorter and weighed almost one hundred pounds less. And, of course, the driver’s license identified my sex as female rather than male. I looked at the photograph on the license. Despite the terrible lighting and poor angle that were typical of DMV photos, I still looked attractive in the picture, probably because I was wearing heavy makeup and smiling broadly.

I looked through the rest of my purse and found some makeup accessories, breath mints, and half-a-dozen condoms. That last item was somewhat surprising. As a male, I had been a virgin. Was I still one now as a woman? That was something I preferred not to think about at the moment.

I put everything back in the purse.

Then an idea crept into my head.

I stepped over to the nearest window, pulled aside one of the closed curtains, and took a peak outside. Sure enough, through the windows of the apartment next door, I could see two guys sitting in a living room watching television. The unit across the alleyway was still occupied by a group of guys. With that information confirmed, I made sure that the curtains on all the windows in my bedroom were closed and that there were no gaps through which anyone could catch a glimpse of me.

The sun was about to set and with the curtains closed it was getting very dim in my room, so I turned on the lights. Then I walked back into the bathroom where the light was already on and closed the door. Then, standing silently in front of the full-length mirror again, I took a deep breath and began to undress.

I started by unbuttoning my blouse and dropping it on the floor. I found that underneath it I was wearing a lacey black bra. My breasts looked like they were about to burst out of it. Never having removed a bra as a man, I struggled with how to remove one as a girl. It took some fumbling around, but I finally found the hooks in the back that kept it clasped together and was able to undo them. I tossed the bra to the ground beside my blouse.

The first thing I felt as soon as I removed the bra was a sense of relief. I had not realized how severely the bra had been restricting my breasts until I took it off. The pressure that had been holding down my breasts and keeping them immobilized disappeared and I immediately felt more comfortable.

I stared at my breasts with a sense of disbelief. Breasts? That’s not how I usually thought of them. Boobs. Tits. Hooters. Now that I had a pair of my own, referring to them by anything other than the most clinical term for them did not come as easily. But whatever I called them, they were massive, firm, and perfectly round. They also seemed immune to gravity.

I cupped them in my hands and enjoyed the pleasurable sensation of rubbing them. The contrast between my big boobs and my small, delicate hands only made them look larger in comparison. I felt a gross sense of injustice over the fact that the first pair of boobs I was getting to fondle were my own.

I stooped down and picked my bra off the floor. I examined it carefully until I found the tag that listed the size. 32DD. Wow. It was no optical illusion. My tits were huge.

I had only been a girl for a few minutes, but already I was beginning to miss my lost height. I may not have had a lot going for me as a man, but I always saw my height as compensating for a lot of my other shortcomings. When you’re tall, people respect you more. They look up to you figuratively and literally. People don’t respect short men and they tend to treat diminutive women as toys or playthings. That was not a reassuring thought.

But at least if I was a small girl, I made up for it with my chest size. I had always gotten the impression that breast size was to women what height was for men. If I had lost one perk, I had gained another.

I threw my bra back on the floor and proceeded to try and remove my skirt. I struggled with that, too, until I found the zipper than ran down the back over my curvy butt. I yanked it down and then pulled off the skirt. Underneath, I was wearing a pair of lacey black panties that matched the bra I had worn.

Now was the moment of truth. I felt extremely reluctant to continue. A part of me wanted to call out to Mort and ask to be turned back into a man right then and there. But, like I said, when I commit to a crazy idea, I tend to commit to it all the way.

I pulled my panties down my ankles, stepped out of them, and tossed them on the ground.

I looked into the mirror expecting to see a light growth of dark pubic hair between my legs, but the area was clean shaven. That made me wonder. Did Kelly shave down there because she routinely expected to put her goods on display? If so, to whom?

I bent my head down to look at my new vagina. But I couldn’t. I learned right then and there that it’s difficult for a girl to get a good view of her vagina. Considering that this was the first vagina I had ever seen up close and personal, that was a disappointing discovery.

In the mirror, my pussy looked unassuming. It was just a little fleshy mound with puckered lips. I took one of my fingers and ran it over those lips. I was unnerved by the intensity of the sensations that emanated from my vaginal lips and shot up into my groin. They were even more sensitive than my penis had been. I was way too overwhelmed to experiment with my vagina any further.

I stared at myself in the mirror for several minutes. No matter how long I looked, I still couldn’t believe that I was the sexy girl staring back at me.

Chapter Four

I wasn’t in the mood to spend the rest of the evening fondling my strange new body. As fun as it was to explore it, I figured I wouldn’t be able to put up with the weirdness of it all. I would probably wish for Mort to make me normal again before I went to bed. But I wanted to make the most of the time I had in this body.

In my fantasies of being a woman, I had usually imagined myself making love to a man. I had never thought it made me gay or otherwise reflected on my sexual orientation. After all, I had never been physically attracted to men and I spent most of my time pursuing women, albeit unsuccessfully. But the idea of making love to a man as a woman had stimulated me. I always thought it was because the idea was taboo, something forbidden not only by society’s mores but by the biological limitations nature had imposed on us as humans. In any event, I wasn’t about to fulfill that particular aspect of my fantasy.

There was another aspect of my fantasy that excited me. That was the idea of being a beautiful woman out in public, walking among crowds with their eyes fixed on me, admiring my beauty. That part of the fantasy was easier to explain. As a man, people rarely showed interest in me for any reason. I was practically invisible. In contrast, the idea of people looking at me and instantly wanting me, seeking out my attention even if only for a moment, that seemed very appealing. As the result of this incredible turn of events, I was now free to pursue that aspect of my fantasy.

I decided to go out somewhere and walk around just to see what it was like out there in the world for a girl.

I grabbed the towel off the rack beside the shower stall and wrapped it around my body. Then I gingerly stepped out of the bathroom and made my way toward the old dresser that, as David, I had used to store my underwear. Sure enough, I found that Kelly also kept her underwear in it.

I grabbed a pair of cotton panties and some low-cut socks. I saw some bras in the drawer as well but ignored them. My boobs felt way more comfortable without a bra.

Then I opened another drawer and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

I slipped on the panties and t-shirt, then pulled the jeans on over my legs. The panties were comfortable, but the t-shirt and jeans fit very differently on my new figure than a similar ensemble would have fit on me as a man. Both the t-shirt and the jeans were tight-fitting and put my new feminine figure on display. Regardless, I thought they would be more practical than a skirt and a halter top or something.

I put on the socks and then walked over to the modestly sized walk-in closet to find a pair of shoes more appropriate than pumps.

When I opened the closet door, I was flabbergasted. As David, I had kept some shirts and slacks and three pairs of shoes in the closet. But as Kelly, the closet was filled to the brim with all manner of dresses, blouses, skirts, and other fashion accessories along with literally dozens of different shoes. Just looking at it all made my head spin.

I saw a pair of pink canvas shoes, thought they looked comfortable, and grabbed them. After putting on the shoes, I grabbed my purse, walked out of my bedroom, closed the door behind me, and made my way downstairs.

As I made my way down the stairs, my big boobs bounced around on my chest. Yikes. That was not comfortable. I thought about going back for a bra but decided I’d rather put up with the bouncing than shackle them up in something that felt like a straitjacket. But I figured I would probably have Mort turn me back into a guy when I got back just because I couldn’t put up with carrying small boulders on my chest everywhere I went.

In the kitchen, I ran into Ashley again. She was cooking something for herself on the stove. Although she was not as tall as Becky, I was uncomfortable with the fact that she was now also taller than me.

Ashley shot me a wide, toothy grin and said, “Where are you off to, babe?”

Up until that moment, I had never seen Ashley smile. I hadn’t thought she was physically capable of smiling.

“Uh, I’m going to go out to do some shopping.”

“Cool. If you get back fast, I can do your nails up for tomorrow night. There may not be enough time to do them tomorrow before we go out.”

“Okay.”

“Take it easy, bitch. I love ya.”

That was a weird experience. A girl who had treated me like crap every day that I had known her was suddenly treating me like her best friend.

I made my way down to the garage and was pleased to see that I still had the same car. At least at first glance. I looked it over to be sure. I found that I now had a license plate frame on the rear of the vehicle that said, “Out of the way, princess coming thru!” A bumper sticker read, “Back off, you can’t ride my ass unless you buy me a drink first!” And I was mortified to find another bumper sticker that brazenly read, “Whores spit, good girls swallow.”

I was beginning to think that there was more separating David Rodriguez from Kelly Rodriguez than their genitals. Who was this girl?

When I got into the driver’s seat of my car and put on my seatbelt, I found yet one more minor routine that was different in my new body. The over-the-shoulder seatbelt strap fit awkwardly over my chest as I pulled it down toward the buckle beside my waist. My boobs got in the way.

I opened the garage door and backed my car out. I wasn’t sure where I was going and spontaneously decided to head to the mall. I figured that was as good a place as any to experience what the world looked like to a girl.

Although I was still feeling a little tipsy because of the alcohol, the evening’s events had gone a long way toward sobering me up. But as I drove to the mall, I could feel my heart beating faster and harder. I had often fantasized about being a girl, and now that I was living out that fantasy, it felt intense. Even if all I was doing was taking a drive, going out in public as a girl felt like some unthinkable sin. A lot of people had some strange sexual fantasies, but very few of them lived out those fantasies in public as I was about to do.

I pulled into the parking lot at the mall. Being that it was a Thursday night and nearing closing time, the lot was practically deserted and there were plenty of spaces available. I parked directly in front of the main entrance. Then I took a deep breath and tried to build up the courage to fulfill my fantasy.

That was when I felt more new sensations stirring between my legs. I felt an unfamiliar warmth down there and, somewhere deep inside my groin, I could feel muscles I had never felt before tensing and tightening. There was the slightest tingling sensation around my vagina, similar in some ways to the sense of arousal I would feel stirring in my penis before getting an erection as a man, but it was different in a way I couldn’t describe. I then felt a similar tingling around the nipples of my breasts, which was unlike anything I had ever felt as a man.

I took a deep breath and cast aside my anxiety as I stepped out of my car and walked into the mall, my purse swinging gently from my shoulder.

There were only a few dozen people walking around the mall, quite a contrast to the crowds of hundreds that would fill the mall during the weekend. I was relieved by that and probably would not have come if I had thought it would be otherwise. Even with only a handful of people standing around, my heart was pounding in my chest, I was breathing rapidly, and I could feel a few beads of sweat building up on my forehead.

As I spent a few minutes strolling past the stores, I began to relax. I’m not sure what reaction I had been expecting, but people weren’t pointing and laughing at me or giving me stares of disgust. For the most part, people were minding their own business and paying me no attention. I did catch several men glancing at me as I walked past them. Some of them looked away when I met their gaze, a few smiled at me when I made eye contact, and one or two nodded at me in acknowledgement, seemingly inviting me to keep looking. For my part, I would turn away whenever I caught men staring at me. I had no interest in drawing their attention.

Then I noticed that something was different about the way I was scanning the small crowds in the mall. Usually whenever I went to any public place, my eyes would automatically search out attractive female figures. I would catch myself almost subconsciously glimpsing at the faces of pretty women, admiring their looks. And I would always take the opportunity to admire big breasts, round butts, long legs, and other desirable features.

Now, as a girl, I wasn’t doing any of that. I looked over at a pair of women in short skirts and crop tops walking past me. They were young with great figures. I knew that, yet I didn’t feel a desire to keep my eyes on them and savor their beauty. They were no more appealing to me than the decorative plants that lined the mall’s walkways.

Then I noticed that the way I was looking at men was different as well. After a few minutes of catching men glancing at me, I found myself being caught by men as I was glancing at them. As a woman, the act of looking men over was coming as naturally to me as checking out girls had come to me as a guy.

Was that what I was doing? Was I checking guys out?

I was. It took me a while to acknowledge it, but that’s exactly what I was doing. My eyes would drift over to masculine figures, automatically gaze at their chests and arms, and be drawn to the sight of muscles. As a woman, the sight of big, hard muscles was having an effect on me that was similar to the feeling I had gotten as a man when I looked at women’s breasts or butts.

I saw one man walking out of a gym dressed in shorts and a tank top with a duffel bag slung under his arm. He must have been a gym rat because my eyes were instantly drawn to his massive biceps and pectorals. His tight tank top put them on full display. Then I looked at his face. He had thick, dark-brown hair slicked back on his head, a jutting jaw covered in light stubble, and narrow emerald eyes. He was gorgeous.

He had probably just finished a workout at the gym. As I watched him walk toward the mall exit, I felt the warmth between my legs grow hotter and…moist.

That was when the gym rat noticed me staring at him. He looked right at me and gave me a wide smile, showing off perfectly white teeth.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he said.

His eyes instantly fell to my chest, and I saw his smile broaden.

I was embarrassed to be caught staring like that, even more embarrassed to realize I had gotten aroused staring at a man.

I turned my face away and increased my speed as I walked away from the man. After I had taken several steps, I dared to turn and take a quick glance over my shoulder. The gym rat was staring at my rear as he continued toward the mall exit, his grin making it clear that he was enjoying the view.

I looked away again and began walking even faster.

As I grappled with the reality that my wish to change my sex had also evidently changed my sexual orientation, I took a moment to reflect on the different physical mechanics that came with walking around in a woman’s body as opposed to a man’s.

I was more confident now than I had been before that female genitals as a whole are more comfortable than male genitals. Walking around was far more comfortable without my penis and scrotum jostling around, grinding against one another, bouncing around in my pants and being squeezed by the fabric that surrounded them. It was a relief not to feel a constant need to reach down and scratch my junk or adjust it. All I felt down there as a girl, at least when I wasn’t aroused, was the pleasant sensation of my cotton underwear cradling my vagina. My vaginal lips were tender, and I enjoyed the feel of the fabric against them. There was a constant mild warmth down there that increased from time to time in response to outside stimulation, but otherwise I felt nothing.

On the other hand, the feeling of my big boobs hanging from my chest and bouncing with every step I took was not a welcome sensation. As the minutes passed, the weight on my chest became more pronounced and I could feel my breasts pulling on the muscles around my shoulders and along my upper back. My breasts were heavy, and they were a hassle to carry around everywhere all the time. I had never had to put up with anything like that as a man.

It was too early to say which was worse, hauling my genitals around between my legs as a man or hauling around my big boobs as a woman. But already I was concerned about what it would be like when I transformed back into a man and had to go back to carrying my junk uncomfortably between my legs. I guess I would probably just get used to it again.

I had not yet eaten dinner and stopped at the food court to grab a hamburger from one of the various stands. The cashier who took my order, a bored-looking sandy-haired guy who was about my age, kept his eyes on my tits the entire time he was taking my order. I glared at him but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I crossed my arms over my chest to obstruct his view. I sat down at one of the empty tables in the food court and ate my burger.

Afterward, I decided to go to one of the department stores at the mall and look at women’s clothing.

As I made my way there, a group of three teenage boys walking past me started laughing. I glanced up at them and noticed they were shooting looks at my chest. That hardly surprised me.

What did surprise me was when one of them looked over at me and asked, “You feeling cold, babe? Come over and I’ll warm you up.”

His friends broke out in wild laughter.

The bizarre exchange made me uncomfortable. I walked away quickly and went into the department store.

I wandered into the women’s department and found myself going through the lingerie section, taking the opportunity to look over all the various sexy and sultry undergarments I could never examine as a man. As I was staring at some bras, there were two-middle aged women standing near me looking at panties.

One of them leaned over to the other and whispered just loud enough for me to hear, “I hope she buys one of them. That girl could use some modesty.”

I glanced over at the two women, and they both pretended not to notice me.

For whatever reason, I was drawing unwanted attention and I decided it was time to leave. As I made my way toward the exit, I walked past a mirror hanging on a wall in the department store. I stopped and did a double-take at my reflection.

“Oh fuck,” I said as my eyes fell on my boobs.

My large nipples had swollen and were poking out from under my t-shirt. They were so prominent that anyone could see them clearly from across the room. The teenage boys and the two middle-aged women had most definitely noticed my nipples on full display. I crossed my arms over my chest and practically ran out of the mall.

Chapter Five

I was mortified as I got into my car and drove away. How long had my nipples been sticking out like that? As I drove home, I noticed that my nipples began to shrink back to a more dignified and acceptable size. I was horrified to think that staring at that guy walking out of the gym had probably caused my nipples to swell like that. As a man, I had to worry about the prospect of an ill-timed erection giving my thoughts and intentions away to perceptive observers. Now, as a woman, I had to worry that my nipples would give me away.

I drove over the speed limit all the way home and made it in record time. As I parked my car in the garage under the townhouse, I had every intention of running upstairs and calling on Mort to grant my second wish and turn me back into a man. Then I would wish to be a billionaire and figure things out from there. Fun was fun, but I didn’t want to risk any further humiliation by running around playing at being a girl.

But as I stepped out into the kitchen, I could hear the television on in the living room and stopped to see who was there.

I saw Ashley sitting on the couch in front of the television watching some show. I turned to keep walking up the stairs when Ashley said, “Kelly, is that you?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said sheepishly, not in the mood to talk to anyone after the fiasco at the mall.

“Oh good, you’re back. Come over and watch this with me. I’ll do your nails.”

I looked at my fingernails as I walked over toward Ashley. They were already painted red.

“That’s okay, Ashley. My nails are already done, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Don’t give me that shit, bitch. Come here and let me look at those talons.”

I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with Ashley or anyone else, but I wasn’t used to seeing her act so friendly and I didn’t want to be rude. I dutifully walked over to her and showed her my nails.

“Come on, Kelly, it’s been weeks since you did these. The polish is almost worn off. Sit down and I’ll fix you up.”

They looked perfectly fine to me, but I knew nothing about nail polish, and I didn’t think it would do me any harm to humor Ashley and let her work on my nails. I sat down on the couch and waited as Ashley gathered her cosmetic kit.

Ashley was watching a show called Starlets about three girls who moved to Hollywood together to become actresses. I had heard of it, and I knew it was popular with women, but I’d never watched the show before. It hardly seemed like the sort of thing that would hold my interest.

Ashley came back and began working on my nails as we watched the show.

“What did you go out and buy?” Ashley asked me.

“What? Oh, uh, I went out to buy some clothes, but I didn’t find anything I liked.”

“Clothes, huh? Looks like you should have picked yourself out a bra.”

Ashley giggled.

I could feel myself blushing and I automatically pulled one arm over my chest.

“Come on, babe, don’t bother with that. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said. “I felt so much more comfortable without a bra, and I didn’t think anyone would notice when I went out. But some people definitely noticed when I was at the mall. I felt like crawling under a rock.”

Ashley grinned as she continued working on my nails.

“Yeah, I’ve been there, girl. Sometimes you simply must let your girls hang free. But with boobs like yours, going out without a bra isn’t a great idea.”

“Tell me about it. How was your day, Ashley?”

“Pretty good. That girl Caroline at the salon finally quit. I dropped down to my knees and screamed hallelujah. I was so sick of that cunt and all her drama.”

Ashley went on to tell me about her goings on at work and all the crazy things she had to put up with from coworkers and clients alike. She had a great sense of humor and she made me laugh. She went on to tell me some stories about her childhood in Texas and her eccentric family members. Although her family sounded dysfunctional, I could tell from the way she talked about them that she missed them. I had never imagined this side of her. And it dawned on me that the only reason she was doing my nails was because she was lonely and looking for company. The woman I had dismissed for so long as a cold-hearted man-hating cunt was, in reality, a warm, caring person. I felt lucky to be friends with her.

Friends? That was a strange thought. As David, I had no friends. I had been Kelly for only a couple of hours and already she had more friends than David ever had.

After Ashley was done touching up my fingernails, she had me take off my shoes and socks and looked over my toenails, which were also colored red. After briefly inspecting my toenails, she was satisfied that they were still in good condition. Apparently, Kelly had done her toenails a few days before and they didn’t need touching up. I put my socks and shoes back on.

I stayed with Ashley to watch the remainder of Starlets. It was a typical melodrama. One of the girls was faced with the opportunity to get a role in a movie by sleeping with one of the filmmakers, another one of the main characters was struggling with a growing cocaine addiction, and the third girl suspected that her boyfriend was cheating on her and was trying to catch him in the act. Ordinarily, I would have been bored to tears by the plot, but for whatever reason, I found myself caught up in the lives of the fictional characters and their various problems. I found myself imagining myself in their shoes and wondering what I would do if faced with similar dilemmas. When the episode ended, I was curious to find out what would happen to the girls next.

I thanked Ashley for her help and said good night to her.

It had been the craziest night of my life and I was tired. All I wanted to do was sleep. I didn’t want to deal with Mort or with making anymore wishes. I decided I would put all that off until tomorrow. Probably I would call in sick to work, have Mort transform me back into my male self, and then figure out the best way to wish to be rich enough to never have to work another day in my life.

I wondered what my life as David would be like once I was rich. I had a lot going for me as a man, but none of it had helped me to achieve a life that made me happy. If anything, I was miserable as David. In the short time that I had been Kelly, it felt like she had something that David lacked, something more important than good looks or money. The dramatic difference between the way Ashley treated the one and the way she treated the other seemed poignant. There was something revealing there, and I was compelled to reflect on it further.

I decided that before I wished for Mort to transform me back into a man, I would go out with Ashley and the other girls. I wanted to experience what it was like to do something as simple as going out with friends to have fun. It seemed pathetic that such a common experience was so foreign to me. But it was more than just enjoying an opportunity to hang out with friends. I wanted to figure out what it was that Kelly had going for her that David didn’t. Maybe if I could figure out what that was, I could find a way to improve my life as David.

I walked into my room and removed my shoes and socks. I once again made sure that all the curtains were closed. Then I pulled off my t-shirt and took off my pants. I crawled into bed wearing only my cotton panties. As David, I had slept in my underwear, and I didn’t see any good reason to change that practice as Kelly.

I lay in bed with my eyes open staring at the ceiling for a long time. I had a lot on my mind. But eventually sleep found me and I slipped away into the darkness.

That night, I had the most vivid dreams I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I saw myself as Kelly, dressed in a cap and gown, sitting on a chair set up in a large, grassy field alongside hundreds of other young men and women who were wearing the same thing. It was commencement. I was graduating from college. I saw myself beaming with delight as I walked onto a stage to accept my degree.

Then I saw myself driving to the law firm where I now worked. I was there to interview for the job. I entered the office and sat in the waiting room until Mr. Baxter invited me into his office to speak with him. It was almost exactly as I remembered it except that I was Kelly instead of David, and rather than wearing the suit and tie I had worn to the interview, I was dressed in a black skirt and matching blazer. The interview went differently. Rather than being interrogated by Mr. Baxter about my education and limited work experience, we had a friendly chat, and I could tell he liked me right away. He hired me on the spot rather than making me wait a week the way he had when I was David.

Then I was working at the firm, but things were different. Instead of being introduced to Hunter and being assigned to share an office with him, I was escorted to a desk in an office I shared with Brooke. She smiled when we met and shook my hand. We went over the work I would be doing. She showed me how to organize the files, prepare documents for filing with the court, schedule appointments with clients, and manage Mr. Baxter’s calendar. I hadn’t been hired as a paralegal. I had been hired as Mr. Baxter’s secretary.

The days passed and I saw myself showing up to work every day in a skirt, blouse, and heels or a demure, professional-looking dress, always with my face caked in makeup. I met Hunter and Henry, the associate attorney Brooke was dating. They were both extremely friendly with me. All the men in the office were friendly with me, and I reciprocated the attitude. But as the weeks passed, Brooke’s behavior toward me changed. She became distant, almost hostile. She began to act toward me in the same way that Ashley had acted toward David. I couldn’t understand what I had done to upset her.

I saw myself answering the ad that Ashley, Becky, and Emma had put up online for a new roommate. I drove up to the townhouse and knocked on the door. I was greeted with a smile by Ashley and led into the living room. As David, my first meeting with the girls had lasted five minutes and it was clear I wasn’t their first choice for a roommate. But as Kelly, they invited me to move in after a few minutes of chatting with me and I spent another hour hanging out with them, laughing and sharing stories about myself.

Then I moved in and made myself comfortable in my new room. Becky, Emma, and Ashley helped me move in and took me shopping so I could decorate my new place. The girls took me out to a nightclub to celebrate, where we got drunk and danced with random guys until late into the morning.

Time passed and I saw scenes of myself watching television in the living room with the girls, throwing parties filled with scores of guests in the townhouse, and going out with them to do all sorts of fun activities. There were a lot of scenes of me and Ashley hanging out together, usually involving her helping me with my makeup or wardrobe.

And then I was flooded with scenes of myself as Kelly meeting guys at nightclubs, parties, coffee shops, supermarkets, public parks, basically anywhere and everywhere, even once at what appeared to be a renaissance fair. Then I saw myself alone in my room with a man, eagerly removing his shirt and pulling down his pants. Then I was sitting in a car with a different man in a parking lot somewhere late at night, his lips locked against mine, one of his hands reaching down my blouse, the other reaching up my skirt. And suddenly I saw myself in an unfamiliar bedroom, lying on my back completely naked, my knees bent, and my thighs spread apart as a tall, muscular naked man climbed on top of me, his massive erection stabbing out toward me excitedly. Scene after scene, each with a different man, began to bombard me. As David, I was a virgin and I had no firsthand experience with sex, but I had watched a lot of porn. The things I saw Kelly doing with those men ranked up there with some of the most hardcore videos I had ever seen.

Chapter Six

I woke with a start. My room was dark, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. For just a second, I thought all of it had been some twisted nightmare: the ring, Mort, my wish, Kelly, all of it. But I felt my long hair tickling my shoulders and the heavy weight on my chest that was becoming increasingly familiar, and I knew that it was all real.

As my eyes continued to adjust to the darkness, I felt something wet underneath the blanket. I was worried that I had wet the bed. I reached down with my hand and felt around below my waist. I felt a heavy dampness between my legs. I groaned in shame. No, I had not lost control of my bladder. My sex-crazed dreams had made my womanhood moist, that was all.

I turned over to look at the alarm clock. It read 3:43 a.m. I lay in bed unable to return to sleep. After what felt like only an instant, I turned to look at the alarm clock again. Now it read 4:15 a.m.

Gradually, I felt a heavy pressure growing in my bladder. The equipment I had downstairs may have changed, but the urgent feeling of having to go to the bathroom was the same.

I sat up in bed, the jiggle of my breasts as I repositioned myself reminding me yet again that I was a woman. All the beer I had drunk a few hours before needed release. Or had it been wine? I still found myself puzzled by that trivial change from one reality to the other.

I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. I closed the door and turned on the light. Then I stood in front of the toilet awkwardly. I could no longer urinate standing up. This was going to be yet another new experience.

Any hesitation I may have felt about sitting down to pee was cast aside by the growing pressure in my bladder. I pulled my panties down around my ankles and took a seat. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was supposed to do next, but I instinctively relaxed certain muscles and felt the flow of water between my legs as I heard the familiar sound of urine dripping into a toilet bowl. After a few seconds, the flow of urine came to a stop. I stood and pulled up my panties then flushed the toilet.

As I walked toward the sink to wash my hands, I felt an unpleasant wetness in my panties. I stopped and pulled on the elastic band of my underwear to take a look at what had happened, even though I had already figured it out. Some of the urine had smeared along my vaginal lips and stained my underwear. I pulled off my panties and tossed them in a hamper. I would have to remember to dab myself with toilet paper the next time I had to take a tinkle unless I wanted to soil every pair of underwear I owned.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I washed my hands. My hair was a mess, and the makeup I had worn to bed had smeared. No doubt some of that makeup had stained my pillowcase and bedsheet. As I looked more closely, the makeup had begun to flake and was peeling here and there. It no longer looked as flattering as it had before I went to bed.

I splashed water on my face and began to rinse off the makeup. I was surprised by how tenaciously the stuff clung to my face and by how difficult it was to wash off. As I kept trying to clean it off, I noticed a small plastic container amidst the pile of products on the bathroom counter. The words “makeup remover” were written across the container. I popped open the lid on top of the container and found that it was full of moist towelettes, similar in appearance to baby wipes. I grabbed one of the towelettes and rubbed it against my forehead. When I pulled the towelette away, it was caked with a thick layer of makeup and the part of my face that I had scrubbed with it looked much cleaner. Equipped with this new tool, I quickly wiped my face clean of makeup, tossing the towelettes in a waste basket beside the toilet.

My job done, I looked at my face in the mirror. I did not look as exotic or alluring without makeup, but I was pleased to see that as Kelly I had a natural beauty that didn’t need to be enhanced with cosmetics. I no longer looked like a fashion model without the stuff covering my face, but any man would like what he saw underneath even so.

I saw a pink satin bathrobe hanging from the bathroom door. I grabbed it and slipped it on. Even though I was alone, it felt strange to walk around naked in my new body.

I turned off the bathroom light and, without turning on the bedroom light, I walked over to my desk and sat in my chair. I didn’t feel like going back to sleep. In part it was due to the unnerving dreams I had experienced, but also it was because I no longer felt tired.

Eager for something to do to occupy my mind, I noticed my purse on the desk and reached inside to pull out my phone. I took a look at my text messages. My eyes widened. There were hundreds if not thousands of text messages from dozens of different people. Kelly obviously had a more active social life than David.

Many of the texts were from my roommates. Some of the rest came from other girls, although I had no idea who any of them were. But the bulk of the messages came from men.

I read through several of the text messages.

“Where u at bebe? U one fine azz ho!”

“Hope your keepin cool in this hot weather, Kelly. Maybe you n me can hook up again soon.”

“Don’t believe what they told you, I am not married.”

“It been too long girl.”

“My cock is soooooo hard for you Kelly!!!!!!!!”

“I miss you, love, sun always shines brighter when I’m with you.”

“Stop playing games and text me back.”

“I’ll be back in town next weekend in case you’re free.”

“I gotz to get me mo of you tight ass pussy!”

“I hope you change your mind because we had something special.”

Those texts raised a lot of concerns for me. I wanted some reassurance that Kelly had not slept with each of the guys who had messaged her. If that were the case, the number of sexual partners she had must have been in the hundreds. I didn’t want to believe that was the woman I had become.

My call history was more of the same, dozens and dozens of missed calls, a backlog of voicemail messages I dared not listen to.

Then I searched through Kelly’s photos. I was not at all surprised to find that she had thousands of selfies saved on her phone. I could not find one single image that didn’t have her in it. But many of those images included Kelly with other people, both men and women. Most of the photos looked platonic, but there were a few where she was kissing a man or being kissed by a man, usually on the cheek but in some cases on the lips. It was difficult to tell what those were all about.

I put the phone down. I was done learning about this girl.

I looked at the alarm clock. It now read 5:27 a.m.

It was part of my routine to go for a four-mile run each weekday morning. From her slim figure, I suspected this was also Kelly’s habit.

I turned on the bedroom light and walked over to the dresser drawer where, as David, I kept a pair of running shorts and some t-shirts. Sure enough, I found a pair of women’s running shorts, a sports bra, and several t-shirts. I even found the lanyard with the spare key that as David I carried around my neck so that I could lock and unlock the door to the townhouse when I went for a run. I was glad that at least Kelly and I had something in common.

I took off the robe and hung it on the chair beside my desk. Then I slipped on the shorts I had found.

As a man, I wore a pair of loose-fitting running shorts that came with a built-in netting to offer athletic support, which meant I didn’t have to wear underwear when I went for a run. It was more comfortable that way because it reduced chafing and overheating. Kelly wore a pair of tight-fitting spandex compression shorts which were also designed to be worn without underwear. They were so skimpy and revealing that I had second thoughts about going for a run. I took a long look at my crotch. The design of the shorts seemed to prevent unsightly camel toe. I wanted to make sure about that because I had suffered enough humiliation at the mall the night before. If the shorts didn’t flash my pussy to the world, I figured I could live with them.

I pulled the sports bra on over my head. I knew well enough that even small-breasted women needed the support when they went running. With my massive boobs, a good sports bra was essential.

It fit me strangely. It was extremely firm and rigid and felt less like a fabric than it did like a piece of thick leather or plastic. It was probably reinforced with some sort of mesh underneath the fabric. On the bright side, it held my breasts firmly immobilized. To test it out, I jumped up and down several times. I felt only the slightest jiggle. I found myself very impressed by the undergarment. My boobs felt like they were bolted in place, which was a welcome change of pace. I was tired of bouncing around everywhere.

I pulled on a t-shirt and went to the closet to hunt up a pair of running shoes.

As I stepped into the closet, I once again marveled at the sheer number of shoes Kelly had gathered there. It was amazing how much some women could value fashion accessories over money. There were several pairs of heels, boots, sandals, flip-flops, and other footwear. There were even some fluffy kitten-shaped slippers. It took me a while, but I found a pair of running shoes. They were light gray with a pink trim and from the look of the soles they had quite a decent amount of mileage on them. I pulled on a pair of socks I got from the dresser and slipped into the running shoes.

I walked over to the full-length mirror in the bathroom to look myself over. I made sure my nipples and vagina weren’t visible, although my shorts were so tight that the curves of my ass were on display for the whole world to see, but there wasn’t much I could do about that.

Then I noticed my hair cascading over my shoulders. It wouldn’t do to leave it like that. I couldn’t have my hair getting in my eyes or sticking to my face.

I searched the bathroom counter and found one of those little elastic hair ties that every woman seems to own. I had seen women use them a million times to put their hair up in ponytails. They were usually able to do it with a few rapid hand motions. It took me a while to figure it out, but I did finally get my hair into a ponytail.

I did some stretches then walked downstairs and out onto the sidewalk, locking the front door behind me. Then I began running up the street.

It was dawn and the first rays of sunlight were only beginning to break over the eastern horizon. The air was cool and refreshing. I sucked in one lungful after another of it. Now that I was smaller and weighed less, I moved much faster with greater ease. Although the added weight of my boobs and butt were still noticeable, the sports bra continued to keep my breasts from jostling around and, on balance, I felt lighter running as Kelly than I had running as David. The difference was very pronounced. It was like the difference between hauling a fifty-pound sack of flour over your shoulders and lifting a twelve ounce can of soda in your hand.

I also noticed that the way my body moved was different. My gait wasn’t as straight because my hips were wider and made my body twist slightly from side-to-side with each stride. My arms were also more inclined to swing inward toward my torso as I moved them back and forth. It had nothing to do with my form, a woman’s hips and shoulders were simply shaped differently. It didn’t make running itself more difficult, but maintaining the proper form wasn’t as easy.

After the first mile, it was clear to me that Kelly ran as much as I did, if not more. If I ever went more than a few months without exercising, the next time I would go for a run my body would struggle to get used to the exertion. From the way my body was responding to the physical strain of this run, it was clearly used to frequent aerobic exercise. I hadn’t felt this good running in a long time.

I ran past a man going for a jog in the opposite direction. He was probably ten or fifteen years older than me, with light brown hair and green eyes. He was handsome but had only a slight build.

He smiled as he ran past me and said, “Good morning!”

“Good morning!” I responded.

A few minutes later, two young women around my age came running down the sidewalk in skintight spandex shorts and matching sports bras. I admired their toned figures as I wished them a good morning and they returned the greeting.

I felt a little deflated by the fact that I had been more drawn to look at the older man who ran past me than I had been to check out the two girls. The female form just didn’t catch my attention the way a man’s figure did. I was intrigued to experience firsthand just how much our physical attraction is dictated by our body chemistry rather than our psychology. I didn’t think my sexual orientation had changed, but the body I was in now responded to very different physical cues than the one in which I had been born.

I turned around after two miles and made it home in record time.

When I stood on the stoop outside the front door of the townhouse, I felt amazing. Perhaps it was only the endorphin rush that always came after a good workout, but standing there stretching in the body of a sexy young woman, I appreciated the motivation behind my wish to be turned into a girl. Granted, I had been extremely drunk at the time, but this was the sort of feeling I had always tried to capture whenever I had fantasized about being a woman. I felt beautiful. And this gorgeous body I was in was all mine, free to do with as I pleased. Going out in public, showing myself off to the world, had been…arousing. I felt a tingling between my legs.

The feeling rushing through me in that moment was so uplifting that I considered making my second wish to be able to transform back and forth from David to Kelly at will. But because transforming from one to the other meant imposing drastic changes on the world around me, I would have to give that idea some serious thought before I went through with it. In fact, I was going to have to sit down and have a long talk with Mort before I made another wish. There were a lot of questions this whole wish-making business raised, and I wanted some answers.

That could wait until after I took a shower, though.

Chapter Seven

I made my way back upstairs to my bedroom and, making sure again that the curtains were closed, I removed my sweat-soaked clothes, undid my ponytail, and stripped naked. Then I hopped into the shower to clean up.

The plan was still to go out that night with the girls. I wanted to have some fun before I became a man again. The time I had spent with Ashley the night before had been the best part of becoming Kelly. I had been sorely lacking companionship as a man and hanging out with Ashley had shown me just how deprived I had been.

As I shampooed my hair, I reconsidered my plan to call in sick to work. I had enjoyed the thrill of going to the mall and going for a run as a girl, although the experience at the mall had ended on a sour note. It was fun to go out in public as a girl. And the intense dreams I had experienced the night before made me curious about how different things might be for me at work now that I was a girl. I decided to make the most of the situation and go into the office. If I became uncomfortable seeing my coworkers as a woman, I would leave. And what difference would it make? By this time tomorrow, I would be a man again and wealthy on top of that. I would never have to go to work again.

I noticed a pink razor in the soap dish. My legs looked smooth, but for the fun of it I took the razor and shaved them anyway. It was awkward bending over to reach distant parts of my ankles and thighs, but the tiny pieces of stubble I shaved off told me my legs weren’t as smooth as I may have thought. Shaving turned out to be harder than it looked, and I didn’t do a particularly good job, nicking myself several times. I ran a hand over my pubic area and giggled as I felt stubble there as thick as the stubble I usually found on my face each morning as David. I went ahead and ran the razor over my pubic area, too, mercifully doing a better job with that than I had with my legs.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I dried myself with a towel but became frustrated when I tried to use the towel to dry my hair. Because it was longer and thicker, there was more water soaked into it. I stepped over to the counter and rummaged around until I found a hair dryer and comb. I hit my hair with the dryer at full blast and ran a comb through it as I did so. After a few minutes, my hair was finally dry.

I put on the satin bathrobe and went over to the closet to figure out what I should wear to work. I grabbed a red blouse and a pair of black slacks. I looked over the various shoes that filled the closet and dismissed all of the high heels out of hand. There was no way I was going to go anywhere in those. I found a pair of shoes that looked sort of like the pumps I had worn the day before except that the heel was no thicker than it would be on a man’s shoe, say maybe half-an-inch to an inch. Those would work.

I slipped on a pair of white bikini-cut panties and a matching bra that I took out from the dresser and got dressed. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked appropriate for a day at the office.

My eyes fell on the turquoise ring I still wore on the middle finger of my right hand. I wanted to call out to Mort and talk to him, but I was worried that if I saw him right then, I’d immediately chicken out of my plan for the day and immediately wish to be turned back into a man. No, I decided against it. I’d be back to my old self soon enough, no need to rush things.

I grabbed my purse and went downstairs to the kitchen. Setting down my purse on the kitchen table, I toasted some frozen waffles and ate them with a freshly brewed cup of coffee before leaving for work.

“You have to be at work early or something?” Emma asked me as she walked into the kitchen wearing her dark blue scrubs for work.

“What?”

She pointed at my face and said, “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you go to work without putting on some makeup.”

I shrugged.

“I didn’t feel like putting any on this morning.”

That was true. But it was also true that I didn’t know anything about makeup. I suppose I could have managed to put on some lipstick, but anything more complicated than that was beyond my abilities.

“It’s a good look for you,” Emma said. “Ashley won’t let you go out tonight without covering your face in more makeup than a drag queen, though. You know how she is about that sort of thing.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s fine. I’ll put some on for tonight. Just kind of not in the mood for it right now.”

I finished my waffles and coffee and said goodbye to Emma.

The drive to work wasn’t any different than it was on any other day. Well, my seatbelt still fit awkwardly over my breasts, but that was about the only noticeable difference. The drive felt different, though, because it wasn’t every day I drove to work as a woman.

I made it to work right on time at 8:00 a.m. After parking my car, I went straight to the office I shared with Hunter. I was anxious about how he would treat me as Kelly. With the way he was about women, I was sure he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me. That disgusted me but, as much as I hated to admit it…it also excited me. That was part of the reason I had come to work, for the titillation of being seen in public as a woman, even if it meant getting unwanted attention from undesirable people.

I stepped into the office and saw Hunter sitting at his desk, but to my surprise my desk was missing. He looked up at me as I stared absently at the empty space that had held my workstation.

“Good morning, Kelly,” he said with a grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

His eyes moved up and down my body, drinking in the view.

“Where’s my desk?” I asked.

He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“In the office down the hall, last time I checked. Why? Are you thinking of moving in here to keep me company?”

His smile told me how much that idea appealed to him.

Brooke had the office down the hall. That made me remember the dream I had the night before, and I developed a hunch.

“I’ll get back to you about that.”

I began backing out of the room.

“Drop by any time, my door is always open to you,” Hunter said with a leer as I left his office and marched down the hall.

Brooke was sitting there behind her desk, typing on her computer, an empty desk that had not been there the day before next to hers.

“Good morning,” Brooke said to me icily without looking up from her screen.

“Good morning,” I said as I walked toward the empty desk. “How are you doing?”

“I was doing okay,” she answered with acid in her voice.

She said nothing as I sat down at the desk next to hers and placed my purse beside the computer. I turned on the computer and began looking through the files. A quick glance through the software installed on the machine showed me that it was typical of the sort of programs our office used for secretarial work.

To confirm my suspicion, I looked over at Brooke and said, “I’m going to print out a copy of Mr. Baxter’s calendar for today and leave it on his desk.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing the job you’re paid to do, Kelly.”

How was this possible? Those were no dreams I had experienced the night before. What were they then? Memories? Were they part of this new version of reality?

I was going to have a long chat with Mort. There was a lot more to making wishes than I had thought.

I knew something about the duties of the secretaries in our office. We had gone over their job duties during my orientation when I had started as David. And as a paralegal, I had worked alongside the secretaries extensively. On top of that, the dreams I had the night before had been so vivid and detailed that they served to reinforce what I already knew.

I printed out a copy of Mr. Baxter’s calendar for the day and took it over to his office. I found him behind his desk going over some papers. He looked up and smiled at me.

“Good morning, young lady,” he said. “Put a smile on your face. It’s Friday.”

I smiled sheepishly as I handed him the printout. He looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face.

“You look different today, Kelly. What is it? You do something with your hair?”

“Not as far as I know,” I answered honestly.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at my face.

“I know what it is. You’re not wearing makeup. Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without makeup. It’s a good look for you, honey.”

“Thanks.”

“Do me a favor and grab me a cup of coffee, will you? I got a lot of work ahead of me today.”

I made my way to the office breakroom where we brewed the coffee. Mr. Baxter had never asked David to get him coffee, but in my dreams, it had been one of my many routine tasks as Kelly. I even knew exactly how he liked his coffee. In my dreams, I had always prepared it with two spoonsful of sugar and no creamer. He hated creamer.

I dropped the mug of coffee off on Mr. Baxter’s desk and went back to the office I shared with Brooke.

I spent the next couple of hours answering phone calls and working on organizing some of the case files. I also spent half-an-hour in Mr. Baxter’s office going over his calendar for the following week with him, taking note of appointments that had to be cancelled or rescheduled. I went over my emails, too, which were voluminous now that I was Mr. Baxter’s secretary. Anyone who wanted to get to him had to go through me: opposing counsel, clients, the courts, whoever. At one point Mr. Baxter instructed me to arrange for a court reporter for a deposition that had been noticed for the following week, a task that was made more difficult for me by the fact that I had never done it before.

Late in the morning, Mr. Baxter handed me some discovery requests that we had received from opposing counsel and told me to process them and give them to Hunter so that he could prepare draft responses. I scanned the documents into our system, entered reminders on the calendar for the deadline to respond to them, and then walked down to Hunter’s office.

Given all the changes I had confronted over the last twelve hours or so, I was surprised by how familiar all of this seemed despite being so different than what I was used to. For someone who was now living and working in an unfamiliar universe, I was taking it all in stride.

As I approached Hunter’s office, I heard him talking to someone.

“Did you see what Kelly was wearing today? Even in a pair of pants, she still has a fine ass. The way she swings it back and forth when she walks, it’s like she’s asking me to give it a little slap.”

A man’s laugh came from someone else in his office.

“Yeah, it’s weird to see her in pants. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear pants to work before. She’s a skirts and heels kind of girl. She looks better in a skirt.”

I recognized the other voice as belonging to Chad, the file clerk who handled the mail and kept the files organized.

I stood still and listened intently to their conversation.

“Don’t get me wrong, I prefer to see her in a skirt,” Hunter said. “Legs like hers she shouldn’t hide from anyone.”

“Did you notice she isn’t wearing any makeup?” Chad asked.

“A girl like that doesn’t need any. Besides, I don’t like my woman laying that stuff on too thick.”

“Your woman? C’mon, Hunter. You’ve been talking a good game for months. When are you going to put the moves on her?”

“Trust me, bro, I’ll get her where I want her soon enough.”

I heard footsteps walking toward me out of Hunter’s office, but before I could run or hide, Chad almost bumped into me as he stepped out.

He looked flustered as he said more loudly than he had to, “Oh, hey, Kelly. Good morning. How are you?”

No doubt he was trying to give Hunter a head’s up that I was outside the door.

“Good,” I answered faking a smile.

He darted off.

I reluctantly walked into Hunter’s office and placed the discovery requests on his desk.

“Mr. Baxter needs you to prepare responses to these as soon as you can.”

“For you, anything.”

“Thanks,” I said turning to leave.

“That’s a good look for you, by the way. I never knew how pretty you looked without makeup.”

“Okay.”

“You should do it more often. They say makeup is bad for your skin.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do you have something going on after work?”

“Why do you ask?” My stomach lurched into my throat as I worried that he was about to ask me out.

“You’re dressed differently. Most people, when they’ve got something going on, they dress up. I never saw anyone dress down for a special occasion.”

“No, I just thought I would wear something simple today.”

“Oh, well, I don’t think that’s an option for you,” Hunter said. “You make anything you wear look special.”

“I’m going to go now.”

I didn’t give Hunter the opportunity to keep me there any longer, I bolted out of the room.

I heard him call out as I left, “See you later, but I hope not too much later.”

Shortly afterward, I took my lunch break. And not a moment too soon.

I was used to Hunter using me as a sounding board for stories about his sexual conquests. I had never imagined that he would seek to make me one of his sexual conquests.

That idea was unnerving all by itself. Even worse was the fact that I had to admit that, seeing him through a woman’s eyes, I understood why he had such an easy time with women. He was gorgeous. If he were any other man, I would probably enjoy checking him out. Knowing him as I did, I found his personality repulsive, even if physically he was easy on the eyes.

For lunch I went to a diner up the street that I frequented as David. I sat down at the same booth I always picked as David. There was a cute waitress there who always took my order. She was still there but, of course, as Kelly I hardly had any interest in her looks. I ordered a tuna melt sandwich and a soda, then I went through my phone while I waited for my food.

I had received texts from Becky and Ashley reminding me to try and get home as early as possible. They wanted to get the party started early.

A group of four men wearing jeans, t-shirts, reflective vests, and hard hats walked into the café and took a nearby table. There had been some sort of construction project going on down the street for the last few weeks to replace a pipe or something. Evidently that hadn’t changed. As David, I had seen some of the guys working on that project come into the diner before.

The waitress came by with my sandwich and soda and I began eating.

As I ate, I overheard one of the construction workers say to the others softly, “Look over there, it’s that Mexican girl with the big tits from last week.”

“Yeah, she’s a regular here,” the other worker said. “We should come by this place more often.”

“Damn, that girl is hot. How would you like to motorboat those titties?”

“If you motorboat titties that big, you’re going to get a tsunami.”

The construction workers all broke out in a fit of laughter.

I almost called out to Mort right then and there to make me a man again. All the creepy comments men were making about me were taking their toll. Instead, I left my meal unfinished and left enough cash to cover it plus a tip on the table.

The rest of the afternoon wasn’t so bad, although it was clear that Brooke had a chip on her shoulder about something I had done, I just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Then her boyfriend/boss, Henry, walked into our office.

He was a good-looking guy of about thirty. He exercised and kept in shape, but he definitely wasn’t what I would consider athletic or particularly attractive. I wasn’t too sure what Brooke saw in him. I had felt that way as a man and that hadn’t changed now that I was a woman. For her part, Brooke was head-over-heels for him.

Henry left some work for Brooke to complete and chatted with her for a bit, making some jokes and small talk. Then he looked over at me and grinned.

“You wake up late today, Kelly?”

I shook my head.

“No, Henry, I just thought about it and decided that our society is too hung up on how a woman looks, so maybe I should take a pass on makeup to make a point about how a woman has more to offer the world than a pretty face.”

Henry’s eyes widened and Brooke rolled her eyes at me.

My response had been a little sassier than I had expected it to sound. I didn’t like Henry to begin with because he was sleeping with Brooke. But in addition to that, I had gotten tired of every guy in the office pointing out that I wasn’t wearing makeup and commenting on my looks.

Henry smirked.

“Good point. You know, when I was growing up, my sister would always plaster herself in makeup. My grandmother would look at her and say, ‘You want to paint up your face like that, go join the circus or stand on a street corner.’”

He laughed at his own anecdote.

Brooke joined in his laughter and added, “That’s funny.”

Irritated by the way he had played off my catty remark, I asked, “Well, which of the two did she end up doing?”

Brooke’s jaw dropped.

Henry’s face froze and I felt an instant of smug satisfaction.

Then, to my annoyance, he laughed.

“That’s a good one. That’s what I love about you, Kelly, your sense of humor. No, my sister ended up becoming a florist, but she still wears too much makeup.”

Brooke frowned.

As he walked out of our office, Henry said, “Stay funny, girl. We need you to liven up this office. Not like Ms. Grumpy there.”

Brooke’s expression did not improve upon hearing Henry’s parting comment.

She turned to me and said, “Wow, you really love being the center of attention, don’t you?”

“Me?” I said. “I can’t help it if every guy in this office tries to grab my attention.”

Brooke sighed and said, “I cannot believe how conceited you are.”

That was when a lightbulb began to go off in my head. I thought back on the dreams I had experienced the night before. I reevaluated my interactions with the men in the office in those dreams. In particular, I thought about the sort of exchanges I had shared with Henry.

Oh my god. Brooke was jealous of me. She thought I was flirting with Henry.

Of all the strange things that happened over the last few hours, that idea took the cake. And that was something considering what the least few hours had been like. Maybe it was because I hated Henry and the thought that I was trying to seduce him seemed too ridiculous to contemplate.

I usually left the office at 5:00 p.m. But given the fact that I was going out with the girls that night and because I didn’t want to be around Brooke or Henry or Hunter, I asked Mr. Baxter if I could leave at 4:30 p.m. He didn’t have any additional work for me and agreed.

“Have a wonderful weekend,” I said to Brooke as I picked up my purse and walked to the door.

“It must be nice to be in good with the boss,” she commented.

I didn’t even bother responding.

Chapter Eight

On the drive home I stopped off at a liquor store to pick up a six-pack of beer. Considering that the six-pack I had drunk the night before had put me in this situation, I should probably have reconsidered the wisdom of that decision. But I told myself not to make any wishes while drunk and that was enough to assuage any concerns I had.

I was the first one to arrive home. I put the beer in the fridge and went to my room where I unclasped my bra underneath my blouse, removed it, and tossed it in the hamper. I felt an immediate sense of relief after taking off my bra. My boobs were able to breathe free. I didn’t appreciate the way my boobs started bouncing around again, but it still felt good not to wear a bra. Then I kicked off my shoes and slipped into a pair of flip-flops I got from the closet.

I went downstairs, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and plopped down on the couch in front of the television. I tuned in to a baseball game and sipped my beer. I was instantly in paradise.

A few minutes later, I heard someone walk into the townhouse and shout, “Are any of you bitches here yet?”

That was Becky.

“One bitch reporting in!” I yelled out.

Becky stepped into the living room and did a double-take.

“Are you watching baseball?”

“It sure looks like it.”

“And since when do you drink beer?”

“Since I had a shitty day at work and decided to drink away my troubles.”

“I can’t help you with your shitty job, but I can definitely help with getting you wasted. I bought a couple of bottles of wine. They’re in the kitchen. I didn’t realize you were going to be slumming it with your booze tonight. There’s also a large pepperoni pizza on the kitchen table if you want to grab a slice.”

Becky reached over and yanked the remote out of my hand.

“And while I can understand wanting to check out a bunch of cute baseball players, this is girls’ night, so let’s switch to something a little more age appropriate.”

We started watching Starlets instead of the baseball game. I didn’t mind too much. The alcohol was already rushing to my head, and I had enjoyed the episode I had watched with Ashley the night before. Becky poured herself a glass of wine and sat next to me.

“Ashley and Emma should be home soon,” Becky said. “When they get here, we can start getting decked out in our sluttiest outfits.”

“Can’t wait.”

Becky didn’t pick up the irony in my words, or if she did, she didn’t say anything about it. But my goal wasn’t to make a slut out of myself. I just wanted to hang out and have a good time with friends. That was not something I would be able to do as David. Maybe instead of wishing to be rich, I should tell Mort I wanted to be like Kelly, but with a penis and without the tits. She had a good thing going.

We watched Starlets and ate pizza while we waited for Ashley and Emma. The girl with the cocaine addiction, her name was Cherry, was about to have sex with some sleazy drug dealer to score some more drugs when her boyfriend, a beautiful hunk of a man, rushed in to keep her from making a mistake. Cherry’s boyfriend nearly got a brutal beating from the dealer for that, but he was able to talk his way out of it and get Cherry out of there. I thought it would be sweet to have someone who cared enough about me to risk getting a beating.

I was in the kitchen grabbing a second beer after having finished the first when Ashley walked in.

“Oh no,” she said with a pained expression as she rushed toward me. “It’s true. You left the house this morning without your sexy face.”

Ashley squeezed her hands against my cheeks and gripped my face. Then she looked down at my chest, grinned, squeezed my boobs together, and said, “Please tell me you didn’t go to work without a bra, girl. You’re a naughty one.”

I pulled my boobs away from her hands and said, “Hey, no one honks my tits without buying me a drink first.”

Ashley laughed, grabbed the bottle of beer out of my hands, and took a long pull.

“If anyone could use a drink,” Ashley said, “it’s me, baby. I had a shit day at work.”

“Welcome to the club,” I said as I went back to the fridge to replace the beer Ashley had stolen from out of my hand. Then I grabbed a second slice of pizza off the table while I was at it.

“Let’s not get sidetracked. Why did you go to work without makeup or a bra? You trying to send mixed signals to your man, Hunter?”

“Ugh,” I said. “That creep is not my man. And I didn’t go to work without a bra, I took it off after I got home. As if I don’t get enough gross looks from horny guys. Can you imagine if I showed up to work like that? Those pervs would drown in their own drool.”

I took a long drink from my beer.

“Okay, and what about that boring face? Emma wasn’t making shit up when she said you left home this morning looking like that.”

I shrugged.

“I wasn’t in the mood for makeup. Sometimes a guy needs a little change.”

“Right, well, you do look like a guy without makeup. You’re not leaving the house tonight looking like that. I’m going to do you up right.”

“As if. All the guys at work said it was a good look for me.”

Ashley took another drink from her beer and nodded.

“Baby, let me tell you, if you showed up to work wearing a potato sack and with your face covered in dirt, they would tell you the same thing. Men will tell you anything to get into your fucking pants.”

Ashley grabbed a slice of pizza of her own and we walked over to the living room to join Becky.

“What are you two bitches yakking about?”

“Nothing,” Ashley answered, “Kelly is just going on again about how she wants to get her man Hunter all alone with her.”

Becky and Ashley both laughed.

“Is that why you had a shitty day?” Becky asked. “Was Hunter trying to get under your skirt again?”

I drank my beer and shook my head.

“I do not want to talk about it.”

“Sue that dick for sexual harassment already,” Becky said.

We kept drinking, eating pizza, and watching Starlets. Cherry was arguing with Stacey, the girl who was sleeping around to get acting roles. Cherry was saying that sleeping with men to land work was no different than sleeping with them for drugs. Stacey slapped Cherry across the face and walked out on her.

“I cannot believe that bitch did that!” Ashley cried. “Sucker punch that slut, Cherry.”

Becky and I both laughed.

A few minutes later, Emma arrived home and, after pouring herself a glass of wine and grabbing some pizza, came over to sit with us.

“Fuck,” Emma whined, “I told you guys not to watch this show without me. I hate you bitches. What did I miss?”

We caught her up on the show.

“Did Holly catch her boyfriend cheating on her?” Emma asked.

“No,” I answered. “She’s just been following him around looking for clues. Holly is the kind of girl people are talking about when they say bitches be crazy. He is totally not cheating on her. It’s all in her head.”

“Wrong,” Ashley said. “If I were in a relationship with that basic bitch, I would cheat on her ass, too. He is absolutely fucking another girl.”

“I’m with Kelly,” Emma said. “He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t cheat on her.”

We were all stunned a few minutes later when Holly walked in on her boyfriend in bed with another man.

“Oh my god,” Becky said. “I called it. When we were watching last week, I called it, I totally said he was gay.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ashley said dismissively. “You can sniff out a closet case a mile away. Congratulations.”

We kept watching Starlets and drinking. I could have spent the whole night like that. I was having the best time of my life hanging out with the girls.

But after I had finished my third beer, Ashley said, “Okay, Kelly, come upstairs with me, girl. It’s time to pimp you out.”

Ashley grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. I nearly stumbled to the ground. I thought it was odd that just standing up straight had become a bit of a challenge after only three beers. As David, I wouldn’t have even had a buzz going after three beers. But I reminded myself that Kelly was a small girl, she probably couldn’t handle alcohol as well. I would have to keep that in mind.

Ashley led me upstairs to my room and asked me, “What are you wearing out tonight?”

“I don’t know. I can just wear what I have on now.”

Ashley made a sour face.

“You’re going out of your way today to be unattractive and sexless.”

Ashley rummaged through my closet and tossed me a small strip of lilac-colored cloth.

“Put that on,” Ashley ordered.

I stared blankly at the cloth.

“What is this?”

“It’s that off-the-shoulder mini dress you bought last month,” Ashley said.

“This is a dress?”

“Strip,” Ashley ordered.

I pulled off my blouse and my slacks and began to slip on the dress.

“Kelly,” Ashley said irritably, “are you forgetting something?”

“What?”

Ashley walked over to the old dresser and pulled out a bra and thong that she tossed to me.

“Take off the grandma underwear and put those on instead.”

“I’m not sure I’m a thong kind of girl,” I said.

“Yeah, I got that impression from this drawer full of thongs you have here. Quit messing around and get dressed. If you don’t hurry, I won’t have time to do your makeup.”

Dutifully, I removed the underwear I had worn to work and slipped on the thong. I had always thought that wearing a thong would make a girl feel like she had a piece of floss riding up her butt crack. I was surprised to find that wearing a thong felt like I was wearing nothing at all. The bra Ashley handed me was different from the one I had worn to work. It didn’t have any shoulder straps, just the strap that went around my back. When I pulled on the lilac dress, I understood why. The dress exposed my shoulders, but without the shoulder straps, no one could tell I was wearing a bra. Speaking of being exposed, I was struggling to pull the bottom of the dress down over my thighs.

“What are you doing?” Ashley asked.

“I’m trying to pull the dress all the way down,” I said.

“It is all the way down.”

“What? It barely covers my ass.”

“That’s one of the reasons you bought it.”

Ashley walked around behind me, pulled up the zipper in the back of the dress for me, then grabbed my hand and led me to the full-length mirror.

My eyes widened with alarm. Ashley had called it a mini dress and I could see why. Not only did it barely go down far enough to conceal my butt, but it also showed off a lot of cleavage.

“My boobs look like they’re going to burst out of this thing,” I said.

“That’s the other reason you bought it,” Ashley said. “Here, take these and let’s go downstairs so I can do your makeup.”

Ashley handed me a pair of black strappy high-heeled shoes. I carried the shoes in my hand as I walked down to the living room in my bare feet. I had no idea how I was going to walk around in those stilts.

Becky and Emma were up in their rooms getting ready and the living room was empty, but Starlets was still playing on the television. Ashley sat me down on the couch and pulled out her cosmetic kit. I watched the show as Ashley applied her noxious chemical cocktail to my face.

The Cherry character was in rehab now, trying to deal with her cocaine addiction. Her boyfriend had borrowed some money from some shady characters to pay for her treatment. She met a fellow patient, a musician who was in rehab to treat his heroin problem. He and Cherry talked about their common struggle and how hard it was to accept themselves without drugs to help them feel normal. Cherry leaned in and kissed the musician. Then, apparently regretting her decision, she ran out of the room.

I shook my head in disbelief.

“Stay still,” Ashley ordered.

“What a dumb bitch. She’s got a guy who risks his own ass to help her, a guy who takes care of her, and she cheats on him with some druggie she met in a rehab. Why don’t women have any common sense?”

“I keep wondering the same thing,” Ashley said as she grabbed my chin, tilted my head to the side, and continued to apply makeup to my face. “A kiss is hardly cheating. And anyway, her boyfriend only wants her because she’s hot. He treats here like he owns her. Obviously she’s going to get feelings for a guy who shows an interest in who she is as a person.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

After a few minutes, Ashley said, “There. All done. I am a miracle worker.”

She handed me a mirror and I looked myself over.

“Gah!” I exclaimed. “I look like a Vegas whore!”

“I know,” Ashley said with a smile. “I’m damn good at what I do.”

There was no denying I looked even sexier thanks to Ashley’s handy work. My eyelashes looked thicker and longer with mascara, and the eyeshadow Ashley had applied gave my eyes an elongated look, an effect that made them more intense and expressive. The phrase “bedroom eyes” came to mind. She had also applied something to my lips that made them look fuller and poutier. Whatever she had applied to my cheeks and forehead gave my face a healthy bright glow while somehow adding the illusion of greater depth. The effect made my face look narrower and sharpened my features.

“I’ll admit it, Ashley, you have a gift for this.”

“Thanks. Now that I’m done making you presentable, I’m going to go upstairs and fix myself up.”

After Ashley left to get ready, I spent a few minutes admiring myself in the mirror. I was in danger of becoming a narcissist.

Then I noticed the strappy heels I had brought down to the living room lying on the ground beside my feet. I decided to practice walking in them while I was alone. I slipped them onto my feet and then carefully stood up. The elevated design of the shoes pushed my weight forward and I found it difficult to stand, especially given that the weight on my chest was already pulling me in that direction. It took me a few minutes just to be able to balance while standing still in the heels. But once I was able to stand up straight without feeling like I was in danger of tipping over, I took a step forward. To avoid falling flat on my face, I had to sort of pull my shoulders away from the direction I was moving in and rock back on the heels as they touched the ground, otherwise I was sure I would fall forward. The unfamiliar experience of basically walking on the tips of my toes limited me to taking very short mincing steps. Whenever I tried to increase my stride, I would begin to lose my balance. The constant feeling of falling forward also caused me to take steps by putting one foot directly in front of the other, like I was walking on a tight rope, which I thought was odd because I would have expected that widening my stance as I walked would have been more likely to help me balance, but it was just the opposite.

After a few minutes of walking around the living room in the heels, I felt confident that if I walked slowly, took tiny steps, kept my shoulders pulled back a bit, and landed each step heel first, I could walk in the shoes without falling. While that was a major accomplishment for me, I was a long way from looking like a runway model in those heels.

I practiced walking around in the heels for a few more minutes before deciding to grab another beer from the fridge. Then I sat back down on the couch and continued watching Starlets.

Before long, my bladder told me in very forceful terms that it was full and had to be emptied. I walked over to the first-floor bathroom, hitched up my dress, yanked down my thong, and took a seat. I exhaled with relief as I let my pent-up urine flow. That felt good. When I was done, I grabbed a thick portion of toilet paper and dabbed the area around my vagina until it was dry. I didn’t want a repeat of my previous mistake, especially in my pretty party dress. I pulled my thong back up, put my dress back down, then I washed my hands and went back out into the living room to wait for the other girls.

A short time later, Becky and Emma came down the stairs wearing revealing, tight-fitting dresses, their faces coated in makeup. At least I knew I was observing the dress code for the night’s festivities.

“Oh my god,” Becky said, “we look as glamorous as porn stars.”

Becky and Emma both grabbed fresh glasses of wine and we began to take selfies. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous and did my best to strike the most exaggerated, over-the-top poses I could imagine. I put my arms behind my head, pulled my hair up, and stuck out my chest for one picture. For another, I put my hands under my boobs and raised them up toward the camera. I let my imagination run wild. Becky and Emma thought it was hilarious and laughed hard.

I realized that I was already hammered after four beers. Kelly was a lightweight. But I was enjoying myself. The alcohol-induced euphoria caused me to forget about my troubles and live in the moment. I had never had this much fun in my life.

Ashley finally walked down the stairs. She put the rest of us to shame dressed as she was in a dark red dress, her makeup giving her a sultry appearance that practically made her sizzle.

“Take it down a notch, girl,” I said. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Ashley said. “Think of it more like the three of you are making me look good.”

Ashley grabbed the last beer from the fridge and, as we continued drinking, the four of us took group photos of ourselves.

Chapter Nine

Finally, once we were thoroughly drunk, Ashley ordered a ride for us on her phone. We were obviously in no condition to get behind the wheel of a car.

A few minutes later, a white Kia sedan pulled up outside in front of our place and our driver notified us that he had arrived. We grabbed our purses, and someone turned off the television, then we funneled out onto the street. Becky got into the front seat beside the driver while the rest of us packed into the backseat. I was disappointed to find that our driver was a weathered, middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap and glasses. He looked old enough to be my father. I would have preferred some eye candy to look at right then.

“You girls are heading to the Scarlet Chamber, right?” he asked.

“You got it, handsome,” Becky said in a melodious tone. “We’re going to blow the roof off that place.”

The driver nodded, seemingly indifferent to her playful attitude. Once we were all in the car, he took off.

As we rode to the nightclub, Ashley played music on her phone. Before long, we were all belting out the lyrics to a famous pop song.

We sounded terrible, but we didn’t care. We were young, we were beautiful, and we were drunk. We could do no wrong in our eyes.

Minutes later, our driver dropped us off in front of a three-story redbrick building in the heart of downtown. It was still early in the evening but there was already a large crowd of people lining up to get inside.

“I’ve been here before,” I said.

“Yeah,” Ashley said. “We were here a few weeks ago.”

But that wasn’t what I had meant. I had dreamt of visiting this exact place with the girls the night before. I was more convinced than before that those hadn’t just been dreams.

We followed Becky to the front of the waiting crowd where she exchanged words with one of the bouncers, who immediately let us in without having to wait in line. Any nightclub that didn’t make sure to give priority to a group of hot drunk girls likely wouldn’t stay in business for very long. You had to give the consumers what they were asking for, in this case booze and boobs.

The interior of the Scarlet Chamber was just the way it had been in my dreams, extremely dark, dimly lit with various shades of red lighting. We moved through a wide hallway with long counters on either side where crowds of people were jostling past one another to order drinks from overworked bartenders. As we made our way through the place, we could hear the music playing from the main dance floor, the sounds vibrating in our bones. Finally, we reached a large open area bathed in bright red light, full of people dancing to the standard nightclub musical repertoire of house, hip hop, R&B, Latin music, and the occasional pop song.

I couldn’t tell whether we were in a dance club or in hell, but I was too drunk to care either way. The four of us locked hands with one another and followed Becky out onto the main floor. I was thankful for that because it was difficult enough to walk in high heels while inebriated, but all the drunken revelers thrashing around, waving their arms, and shoving against each other made it almost impossible to maintain my balance without leaning on the other girls.

We staked out a spot near the middle of the floor and began dancing. I watched the girls gyrate their hips, thrust their pelvises back and forth, raise their arms over their heads, and move their feet to the beat of the music. I did my best to copy them, except when it came to moving my feet. I kept them firmly planted for fear of falling to the ground and being crushed by the dancing mob.

We carried on like that for what felt like a very long time. The combination of poor ventilation and dozens of bodies packed tightly together in a constant state of physical exertion caused me to build up quite a sweat. Then I felt a familiar pressure building up around my bladder.

I leaned over toward Ashley and shouted, “I’ve got to take a piss!”

“Me, too,” she said before I could begin making my way to the bathroom. She turned to Becky and Emma and cried, “Bathroom break!”

Becky and Emma continued to dance as Ashley grabbed my hand and pulled me along toward a distant wall where a long line of women stood together.

“What are we doing here?” I asked. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“This is the line to the bathroom, smart ass,” Ashley said.

I stared at the line and winced. I hoped I wouldn’t piss myself waiting to use the toilet.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ashley and I finally reached the restroom itself and took turns using a stall. When we went to wash our hands, Ashley looked at herself in the mirror and reapplied her lipstick, then she adjusted her breasts by pushing them upward and tugging on the top of her dress. Curious, I looked at my own boobs in the mirror. I thought they looked fine, I only wished people could see less of them.

As we walked back out onto the dance floor, I could see Becky and Emma standing off toward the edge talking to three guys. One of them had a shaved head, a gold chain around his neck, and a tattoo of crossed swords on his left bicep. Another guy was wearing a designer shirt and jeans that looked expensive, with his long blond hair worn down past his ears.

The third guy was extremely tall, which was saying something because now that I was tiny, everyone looked tall to me. He must have been six feet, four inches tall, wearing dark jeans and a fitted black shirt that showed off muscles bigger than my head. The tall guy’s jet-black hair was slicked back with product. He was by far the most attractive of the three, with a clean-shaven square jaw and piercing hazel eyes. The alcohol had extinguished any inhibitions I had about admitting to myself that the body I was inhabiting was physically attracted to men. The tall guy was hot.

“Boys,” Becky said to the three men as we walked up to her, “this is the rest of my entourage. These two pretty ladies are Ashley and Kelly.”

The blond stepped toward Ashley, shook her hand, and leaned in toward her ear to say something. Ashley smiled back at him. The guy with the shaved head kept his attention focused on Becky. As for Emma, I saw her out of the corner of my eye on the dance floor rubbing up against another guy I had not noticed before, the two of them rocking their hips in unison to the music.

The tall man stepped toward me, and I grinned stupidly as I craned my neck back to look all the way up at him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “My name is Marco.”

“You’re fucking tall,” I said dimly.

He smiled.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. Thanks for letting me know. Is that a problem for you?”

“Not as long as you can hear me all the way up there.”

He laughed and said, “Hey, do you want a drink? I was just about to grab something.”

“A tall glass of water sounds good about now,” I said trying to sound playful.

Marco smirked at that.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said as he gently grabbed my wrist and led me to the bar. “A place like this puts plenty of water in all their drinks.”

We fought our way through the crowd trying to grab the attention of the bartenders hustling behind the counter to fill drink orders. Marco waved a big wad of cash around and one of the busy bartenders darted over to see what he needed.

Marco ordered a whiskey sour for himself then turned to me to ask, “And what will the lady be having?”

“Make mine an old-fashioned,” I said to the bartender.

Marco’s eyes widened for a moment, but he placed the wad of cash in the bartender’s hands and within moments we had our drinks.

“An old-fashioned?” Marco said. “I was expecting something more like a vodka cranberry. My dad drinks old-fashioneds.”

“What can I tell you,” I said as I sipped my drink, “I’m an old-fashioned kind of gal.”

As we stepped away from the bar, I locked arms with Marco to steady myself on my heels. We took our drinks and walked over to an outdoor patio where a crowd of people were mingling.

As we made our way there, I saw Becky out on the floor dancing with the guy with the shaved head and Emma still grinding against her mystery man. Ashley was standing nearby talking to the blond guy. She shot me a knowing look over the blond’s shoulder and mouthed the words, “Don’t be naughty.”

I raised a hand in her direction, trying to tell her to take it easy. I didn’t want her spoiling my fun.

As we stood on the patio, I took another sip from my drink then looked up at Marco.

“Maybe we should look for a ladder,” I said.

He looked around for a moment. His eyes locked in on something and he said, “Here’s the next best thing.”

He put his hands on my hips, picked me up, and planted me on a barstool beside a table just large enough to hold our drinks. The bar stool was high enough to put me eye-level with his chin, which was an improvement. I giggled. I had felt a slight tingling between my legs and in my nipples when he had held me in his arms. Maybe that was what every girl feels in the arms of a big, strong man.

“You’re very forward for a guy I just met,” I said.

“I’m trying to get to know you, that’s usually how it works. I’m not going to do that standing around waiting for an invitation.”

I took another sip from my drink.

“Okay,” I said, “your name is Marco, you’re tall, and you love whiskey sours. What else do I need to know about you? Are you a serial-killer? If I give you my number, will I still be in one piece tomorrow?”

“If I were a serial-killer, I would tell you, I swear.”

“How about an icebreaker? Tell me your deepest, darkest secret.”

Marco squinted his eyes and stroked his chin for a few moments.

“Normally this isn’t something I would share with someone I just met, but you have a trustworthy face. I think you can keep a secret.”

He motioned for me to lean in close and, when I did, he said, “Once, I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.”

I giggled again.

“Cute. I love Johnny Cash.”

“A girl with taste. I like you already.”

“Now tell me something that isn’t bullshit.”

He nodded.

“All right. I didn’t graduate from high school. Now I’m going back to school to get my GED. Until then, I’m working with my dad at his repair shop.”

“It takes a pair of balls to admit that to a total stranger, I’ll give you that. And what do you plan to do after you get your GED?”

He threw his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked that far ahead yet. I think I’ll take it one step at a time.”

I chugged down what was left of my drink.

My brain was soaked in alcohol and I wasn’t thinking clearly, but it struck me as poignant that Marco was exactly the kind of guy that I had looked down on in high school. And Marco had probably been one of those type of kids who had given me grief throughout high school. I had been a pretentious nerd as David, I guess. That was one of many reasons that David had been low on friends and high on regret about his life. Yet here I sat with Marco, transfixed by his good looks and confident charm. It made me wonder about how it is that we become the people we are. Is it just accident of birth, a twist of fate, or is it really about the choices we make? Are we destined to be who we are, or can we be anyone that the world shapes us into being?

That was too much philosophy to handle with a head full of as much alcohol as I had in mine.

Marco raised his empty glass.

“I’m going to go grab another one. Do you want a refill?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation.

Marco went to freshen our drinks while I sat alone on the patio.

He came back a few minutes later, handed me another old-fashioned, and said, “All right, Kelly, now it’s your turn to come clean. Tell me a secret.”

The room was already spinning, but I nevertheless took a long drink from my glass.

“Okay, but you must promise not to tell anyone. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“I was born a man,” I said with a perfectly straight face.

Marco laughed his ass off.

“That’s a good one. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you must not have made for very much of a man.”

Ouch. He obviously meant that as a joke. But there was more truth to his words that he could ever have imagined. No, I hadn’t been much of man. In every meaningful way, David Rodriguez had failed to live up to even his own modest expectations, let alone society’s. I had been David for twenty-two years and had never experienced as much fun as I had in two days as Kelly, despite all the humiliation I had experienced as a girl. She definitely had a lot more going for her.

I took another long drink.

“Okay,” I said, “you really want to hear a secret?”

Marco nodded.

“Secretly, I’ve always wished I could meet a random stranger at a bar and take that person home for a night of passionate sex.”

I smiled and put a hand on one of Marco’s biceps, giving it a tight squeeze. With my other hand, I raised a finger to my lips as if shushing him. I shot him a telling wink.

Marco grinned and placed one of his hands on my knee, gently sliding it up my inner thigh. I placed my hand on his and caressed it invitingly.

“There’s a first time for everything, Kelly.”

I giggled.

Chapter Ten

I finished off my drink and the next hour or two was a blur.

Marco and I ended up on the dance floor. I didn’t so much dance with him as I rubbed my butt and my boobs against his chest and crotch. He bent down and we kissed. The next thing I knew, we were back out on the patio locking lips, my hands desperately searching over his body, my fingers making their way through his hair. I vaguely remember telling him I wanted to go home and asking him to give me a ride, and I remember him eagerly agreeing to do so. I also remember saying something to Becky about getting a ride home with Marco while she literally had her hands full with another guy. There was also a brief exchange with Ashley that ended with her rolling her eyes at me and telling me that I would never learn from my mistakes. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the passenger-side seat of Marco’s car with the window rolled down, watching the city lights speed by through the night as he drove me back to the townhouse.

He parked out in front on the street. At this point I could barely stand, let alone walk in heels, so he picked me up in his arms and used my keys to unlock the front door. As we entered the townhouse, I kissed his lips and ran my fingers through his hair. I told him where my room was, and he quickly carried me up there.

When we were in my room, I turned on the light, dropped my purse to the floor, and pulled off the godforsaken heels I was wearing. Then I stepped over to him and unbuttoned his shirt, yanking it off him.

I was face-to-face with his rock-hard pectorals. I leaned forward and covered his chest in kisses, then started nibbling on his nipples. I ran my tongue over them eagerly.

All the while, I could feel my womanhood grow moist and fill with an intense heat. Mysterious muscles deep within my pelvis tightened and tensed and I became overwhelmed with a sense of emptiness inside my body that I became desperate to fill. Twenty-two years of pent-up sexual frustration were coming to a head. As a man, I had ached to share my body with another soul. As a woman, that longing was no less powerful. My gender no longer mattered to me, not in that moment. I had a burning desire that badly needed to be satisfied, and it didn’t matter if that satisfaction came as a man or as a woman, it just had to come.

“I need you to fuck me,” I said. And I meant it. I was hornier than I had ever been in my life. Nothing was going to stop me from getting what I wanted.

Marco said nothing. He reached behind me and yanked down the zipper at the back of my dress, peeling off my dress and letting it fall to the floor. He pulled off my bra and tossed it away. Then he picked me up and stood me on the bed, taking my breasts in his massive hands and squeezing them gently, playfully. He kissed and licked my breasts as he massaged them.

“Oh fuck, I love that,” I moaned as little electric bolts of pleasure shot out from my nipples and surged up my spine.

Down between my legs, I grew hotter and hotter.

I saw a large bulge protruding from the crotch of his pants. I reached down and unbuckled his pants, pulling them down along with the boxer shorts he wore underneath. His huge, erect penis flopped out to greet me. I licked my lips as I wrapped my hands around it. His manhood was thicker than my wrist and almost as long. Somewhere in the back recesses of my mind, there was a sense of shame at realizing he was much bigger than I had been as a man, but that feeling quickly receded into oblivion as I was overcome by yearning.

This was my first time holding a penis that was not my own. I loved the feel of its hard warmth in my hand and squeezed firmly. Years of playing with my own cock now came in handy in giving me firsthand knowledge of the best way to stimulate his. I slid my hand to the tip of his cock and tightened my grip, stroking him slowly at first but then gradually speeding up. He moaned loudly, a deep, manly sound that got me even more excited. I was stunned to feel him grow even bigger and harder in my hand.

He reached up to my crotch and slid the thin piece of fabric that covered my soaking wet vagina to the side, then he began rubbing my nether regions. He must have had a lot of practice with running his hands over a girl’s parts, because I began to shudder with pleasure at his touch. My womanly juices flowed down his fingers.

He picked me up again and put me down on the bed on my back. He climbed on top of me, completely naked, his massive erection pointed right at me. He slid my thong down my legs and over my ankles, tossing it on the floor. I bent my knees and spread my legs apart.

“I want you inside me so badly,” I said.

“Yeah, you’ve been wanting it since you first laid eyes on me,” he said. “You’re a horny girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, baby,” I said, “I’m a horny slut. I’m your slut. Please stick it in me, please. I want you inside me. I need you inside me.”

A look of fierce determination on his face, he grabbed my ankles and raised them up into the air, exposing my vulnerable little pussy to his waiting manhood. Then he pushed his hips forward and I could feel the tip of his cock moving past my vaginal lips, right toward my eager opening. There was a painful pinching sensation as he entered me, and I groaned in pain. The discomfort lasted only a few moments. As he pushed his way inside me, the pain of the initial penetration was replaced by a new, completely alien sensation. I could feel muscles deep within my body stretch and pull apart to accommodate his size. My muscles kept giving way under the tremendous pressure he applied to them. I began to worry I would burst. But at last, he was fully inside me and I could feel a hard, hot presence buried within my receptive flesh.

Then he pulled back, but only for a moment before thrusting back in, and then pulling back again. He pushed my ankles so far back that I could look up and see my tiny toes curling tightly beside his face as he rocked his hips back and forth. As he moved in and out of me faster and faster, a powerful feeling began to grow inside my body as he rubbed against extremely sensitive areas within me. At first it began like a tingling sensation, then as he sped up the rhythm of his thrusts, the pleasure intensified into waves of physical ecstasy that emanated out from my vagina, stretching further and further over my body with each new thrust.

Without any conscious intent on my part, I released a deep-throated scream of delight. I couldn’t help myself. As Marco pushed in and out of me, moans of physical euphoria escaped from out of my mouth against my will. I tried to stop, struggled to hold back the screams, but I couldn’t. I could no more hold back the screams than I could hold back the ripples of pleasure washing over my body.

My entire body was filled with that sense of tight tension that was so familiar to me from back when I had been a man and I had pleasured myself, that feeling just before I was about to ejaculate, that feeling that had told me that an orgasm was imminent. That sense of tension grew stronger and stronger as Marco kept pumping into me. I rocked my hips back and forth to meet each of Marco’s thrusts, desperate to achieve the sexual release that I knew was coming.

Marco let out a deafening howl. Then something twisted and writhed inside of me, pushing and pulling the muscles inside of me with unyielding urgency. I felt something hot fill me up inside. Marco stopped pumping. Already I could feel him growing softer even as he remained within me.

“Did you come?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “What about you, babe. How many times did you get off?”

His limp penis slid out of me as he rolled onto his back. His semen mixed with my womanly fluids and leaked out of my vagina, down my thighs, and onto the bed. I stared down incredulously as the product of our passion flowed out of me unceremoniously.

There had been no physical release for me. My needs remained unsatisfied. I was once again overcome with that sense of aching emptiness between my legs that yearned to be filled. I was horny and I desperately wanted to get off. I looked over at Marco’s cock and watched it shrivel away to a disrespectful fraction of its full size.

Marco lay back on the bed, a smug, contended look on his face. I lay there feeling cheated.

After what felt like a long time, Marco reached over with one hand and began fondling my breasts.

“You want to go again?”

As upset as I was that he had deprived me of my goal by finishing before I had a chance to orgasm, my body began responding to his touch. I grew wet again between my legs.

“Yes,” I said, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

“All right,” he said as he puts his hands behind his head and lay back. “Get me hard again. Go down on me.”

I looked down at his limp dick, caked in our drying juices.

I wanted to keep fucking, but the thought of putting his soiled cock in my mouth was not the most appealing prospect. I hesitated for a while, but eventually my horniness overcame my disgust. I crawled over to Marco’s waiting cock on all fours, tossed my hair back to get it out of the way, and bent down. I stopped for a moment as the pungent, sour odor of the dried fluids hit me, then kept going. I wrapped my lips around his cock and my mouth filled with a bitter, salty taste. I thought I was going to retch, but I kept control and powered through the noxious taste.

“That’s a good girl,” he said with satisfaction.

I had never received a blow job as a man, let alone given one. My only clue as to how this was supposed to work came from hours of watching porn. Knowing that the tip of my penis had been its most sensitive spot as a man, I focused on that now. I began sucking the tip of Marco’s cock like a lollipop. Then I ran my tongue up and down his shaft for a few minutes, alternating between licking it and covering it with kisses. After trying that for a while, I went back to sucking his tip.

Marco placed his hand on the back of my head and began moaning with delight. He was really enjoying himself.

I couldn’t say the same. It took ten minutes of working aggressively on Marco’s limp manhood before he began to get hard again. My jaw became sore.

I kept going because my hard work was paying off. Marco moaned louder and longer, his cock getting rock hard again. My pussy began to get wet with anticipation. Soon he would be inside me again and I’d be on my way to achieving release.

Marco’s cock slapped hard against the roof of my mouth as it twitched unexpectedly. For one horrible moment, I knew what was coming, but before I could do anything about it, a hot fluid shot out into my mouth. His semen burned the back of my throat and I gagged as I pulled away from him, releasing his penis from my mouth just as another load of semen shot out and splashed against my cheek. As I coughed and my throat burned, my mouth filled with a terrible acrid taste. Some of his semen slid down my throat, making me cough harder, but some of it remained in my mouth. It was awful, the consistency of phlegm, but hot and bitter. I spit out the semen that remained in my mouth, but just then some of the semen that had struck me on the cheek leaked into my eye and began to burn, like the feeling you get when you’re swimming at the beach and saltwater gets into your eye.

“You fucking asshole!” I screamed. “You weren’t supposed to come in my mouth. Why didn’t you say something?”

I got out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “You were just too good. I blew my load before I could say anything.”

I spent several minutes in the bathroom washing out my eye and rinsing repeatedly with mouthwash, desperately trying to get the taste of Marco’s seed out of my mouth. Then I sat down on the toilet and peed. The alcohol had flowed through me like a river.

When I was done cleaning myself up, I returned to bed to find Marco snoring, passed out asleep.

I was horny, angry, and humiliated. But most of all I was exhausted. The alcohol had hit me hard and all I wanted to do in that moment was sleep. I turned off the light and reluctantly crawled into bed beside Marco, hoping he would remain asleep.

I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow. I had those vivid dreams again, but they flashed by more quickly, more like incomplete fragments than whole visions. I saw myself as a little girl wearing a bright pink jumper on my first day of school. I saw myself as a teenage girl dancing with a boy who held me in his arms. I saw myself hanging out with friends at a mall as an older girl. The images went by too quickly to make sense of them.

Then I woke up to the feeling of someone pulling me up by my hips. I was confused, not sure where I was or what I was doing. It took a moment to realize I was still in bed with Marco. I was face down on my stomach, and he was on my back, trying to lift my rear. I could feel him kissing my neck and my back as he put a hand on my pelvis and angled me upward toward him. I felt the familiar touch of his erect penis rubbing against the entrance to my vagina, but I was no longer interested in sex. I only wanted to sleep and be left alone. I was dry as a desert down there.

That didn’t matter at all to Marco. He slid the tip of his dick past the lips of my vagina, and I squealed in anguish as I felt that awful pinching sensation again, only this time it did not subside. As he pushed his way into me, the pain was excruciating. It was as if someone was giving me a nasty Indian burn on the inside of my body. Because I had not been properly primed with foreplay this time around, there was no natural lubricant down there and it hurt horribly as he stretched me open.

“Of fuck!” I cried as he began to thrust in and out of me.

I moaned in agony which he must have mistaken for ecstasy, but it didn’t last long. He let out a heavy grunt and I felt another violent spasm within me. His semen gushed out yet again, flooding my insides. He pulled out. I collapsed onto the bed and felt his seed leak out of me.

I said nothing as he crawled out of bed and got dressed.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek and ran his fingers through my hair.

“You were great, babe,” he said. “We’ll get together and do this again soon.”

Then Marco got up and walked out of the room.

I fell asleep and had more erratic, brief flashes of dreams.

Chapter Eleven

When I opened my eyes again, the alarm clock told me it was just before 6:00 a.m.

I felt an aching dullness between my legs. It was similar to the feeling of sore muscles you get after a hard workout at the gym. The throbbing pain radiated up from the opening of my vagina and flowed to some place deep within my body. The area around my vagina and my inner thighs was sticky and caked with dried fluids.

Slowly, I got out of bed, the soreness between my legs stabbing at me with each movement. I sat on the edge of my bed, my hair falling over my eyes, my arms folded across my chest.

I was feeling disoriented from all the alcohol I had consumed the night before, and the alcohol’s depressant effect was hitting me hard now.

What had I done? On one drunken binge, I had wished to become a woman, and on another drunken binge, I had allowed some asshole to take me home, stick his thing in me, and use my body as his personal cum dumpster.

I vaguely remembered having some stupid fantasy the night before of losing my virginity as a woman, believing it would be a night of orgasmic delight. Well, it had been a night of ecstasy. For Marco. He had certainly enjoyed himself at my expense. He had used me and then kicked me to the curb without even the courtesy of allowing me some sexual release.

“Holy fuck,” I groaned.

I had lost my virginity. I had never even experienced sex as a man, but I now knew what it was like as a woman. And worse yet, I had spread my legs for the kind of guy who had bullied me in high school.

I felt disgusted with myself. He had left his seed in my vagina and in my mouth. Oh my god. I had taken him in my mouth.

I ran to the bathroom, making it there just in time to throw up in the toilet. I collapsed onto the floor beside the toilet and flushed away my vomit. I thought about Marco’s semen wriggling around inside my stomach, inside my uterus. A moment later I threw up again.

After flushing away my second round of vomit, I stood up, found my bathrobe, and slipped into it, making sure the font of it was closed tight. Then I looked at the turquoise ring on my right hand.

“Mort!” I shouted.

I was done with all this crap. I was going to transform back into a man and forget the last couple of days had ever happened. Fuck Kelly Rodriguez. The little whore could keep her big tits, her bitch friends, and her promiscuous ways. I was done with her fucked up, sad little life. David Rodriguez’s life may also have been sad and pathetic, but it was my life, and it was time to get back to it.

There was a puff of black smoke and Mort returned.

He shook his head glumly and said, “You’ve been put through the wringer, sweetheart.”

“No shit,” I barked. “I’m ready to make my second wish. I wish I were a man again, turn me back into David Rodriguez.”

Mort gave me a blank stare.

“What’s wrong? I said that’s my second wish. Go ahead and make it happen.”

“No one ever said anything about a second wish, honey.”

My jaw dropped.

“No, no, no. You said you were a genie, that I got three wishes. That’s how it works. Don’t fuck around with me right now, I’m in no mood to be fucked with.”

“Sweetheart, what I said was, ‘You make a wish, I grant it, the world keeps turning.’ A wish. Singular. One. You made it, I granted it. That’s the end of it.”

“But, if that’s all there is, only one wish, why are you still here?”

“I told you,” Mort explained, “I go where the ring goes. Until you transfer possession of the ring to a new master, I stick around. But no more wishes. Everybody gets one. No more, no less.”

“And this isn’t some sort of joke? You’re not playing with me?”

“No joke,” Mort assured me.

My heart began pounding hard against my chest and my breathing became shallower and faster. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. A sickening, gut-wrenching feeling of despair overwhelmed my whole being. I fell to the floor on my knees and began to cry. The tears flowed down my face like pouring rain.

I was stuck as a woman for the rest of my life. I had never experienced sex as a man and now I would never get the chance. I would never be a father. If I wanted to have a child, I would have to find a man to get me pregnant. And I would never get a chance to turn my life around. All the mistakes I had made as a man, all the regrets I had lived with, those would come to define my former existence as a man. And that existence would slowly fade away, replaced by this new life as a slutty little secretary whose only value in the eyes of men was as a repository for their semen, a living sex toy custom built for their pleasure.

I collapsed to the ground and kept crying.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Mort said. “Don’t be such a drama queen. You wished to be turned into a beautiful dame, you wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I only did that because I didn’t think you were real,” I said between sobs. “Plus, I was drunk, just like I was drunk last night when I…when I let myself…when I was…oh god, this is a nightmare.”

As I lay on the ground crying, I caught sight of something lying under my desk. My tears stopped as I realized what it was. I reached for the object and raised it up to show Mort.

“You transformed the beer bottle into a tulip,” I said as I waved the wilting flower in front of his face.

“Right,” Mort said. “I’m not a big fan of getting knocked upside the head. Count yourself lucky, I could have turned the bottle into a snake.”

“Exactly,” I said as I rose to my feet. “You were able to transform the bottle into a flower without a wish from me. That means you don’t need me to make a wish to change me back into a man.”

Mort crossed his left arm over his chest and raised his right hand against his face, leaning his head against it. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I see. You’re a smart girl, but you can’t honestly think you’re the first person to try and push for extra wishes.”

I crumpled up the flower and tossed it at his chest.

“It’s true, you have the power to change me back. You’re only messing with me. Admit it.”

Mort wagged a finger back and forth in front of my face.

“Not quite. Now, as a djinn, I possess all sorts of fascinating abilities. But that doesn’t mean I can do anything I want whenever I want. It’s all part of the mechanics of the process. Look, you’ve got two legs and you can walk a good distance, but that doesn’t mean you can walk on water or walk to the moon. The rules of magic aren’t all that different from the laws of physics.”

“That’s not a yes or no, asshole.”

“Bottom line, honey, I can’t change you back into a man.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not something a mortal would understand, not an ordinary mortal, anyway.”

“Try me.”

Mort sighed.

“Okay. Here it is. I made your wish come true by tapping your mana. When I took your mana, I used the energy from the transfer to generate your wish. Naturally, you’re in bad shape now that all your mana has been drained, but you’ll be able to accumulate more of it, so no big deal. But I can only tap the well once. After I’ve consumed a particular mortal’s mana, I can’t consume it again because it will have been tainted by my karma. In fact, no djinn can consume the mana of a mortal whose mana has already been consumed by another djinn.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Surprise, surprise. It’s all Greek to you.”

I took a deep breath. I had to get control of myself and think rationally.

“Okay. Let’s start with this. What is mana?”

“Oh, brother. What’s mana? Yeah, this is going to be fun. Mana is a fundamental force that flows through reality.”

“Fine, a fundamental force that flows through reality. Now, I was full of mana, and you drained it. That’s how you made my wish come true.”

“Yes. It’s sort of the way that you eat food for energy. The byproduct of that process is feces, the byproduct of my consumption of your mana was your wish.”

I frowned in disgust.

“So, wishes are basically your waste?”

“Sort of. You are a smart girl.”

“You said that you drained all my mana, but I’ll create more.”

“No,” Mort said. “You can’t make more mana. You’ll accumulate it over time, just like you always have since you were born.”

“Sure. But no matter how much mana I accumulate, you can’t grant me another wish. Why can’t you consume my mana a second time and grant me another wish?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Any mana you accumulate moving forward will be tainted by my karma. Let’s go back to the analogy of mana as food. Let’s say you eat a loaf of bread, you digest it, and you dump the waste that’s left over in the toilet. Now, you can physically take that waste and eat it, so why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t eat shit!” I exclaimed angrily.

“And neither do I,” Mort explained. “You can’t eat food that you’ve already digested, and I can’t consume mana from a mortal I’ve already tapped. No other djinn can tap you afterward, either. You wouldn’t eat someone else’s waste, right?”

I didn’t even bother answering Mort’s question.

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Fine, you can’t grant me another wish. But what if someone else wished for me to be David Rodriguez again?”

“Assuming that person has never been tapped by a djinn before, I can consume their mana and make you a man again.”

I smiled.

“That’s great. All I have to do is give the ring to someone else and have them wish for me to be a man.”

Mort grimaced, looked at the ground, removed his fedora, and scratched the top of his head.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this. I mean, it’s better for me if you hand me off to someone else and I get another round of mana. But I’m not some kind of rascal looking to cause anyone problems. So let me tell you this much. I’ve been doing this long before humanity was a going concern. I was there before your universe began. I’ve granted all kinds of wishes to all kinds of beings on various planes of existence over the millennia. It is a very rare thing for a person to make a completely selfless wish. Presented with the chance to make their fondest fantasy a reality, no matter how crazy it is, most people aren’t inclined to use their wish to help out a pal. I’m not saying it has never happened, but you had better be sure the person who gets the ring next values your wish to become a man over their deepest heart’s desire, because once you give away the ring, there’s no getting it back.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of Mort. I didn’t get the impression that he had intentionally misled me. The way he was acting now showed me that he wasn’t out to hurt me. In fact, he seemed to be looking out for me.

“Good point,” I admitted. “I’ll have to pick someone I can trust.”

Then another thought popped into my head.

“But none of that changes the fact that you didn’t need anyone to make a wish before transforming the bottle into a tulip. How did you do that without mana to consume?”

“I can pull off magic without consuming mana. That’s got nothing to do with being a djinn or with making wishes. Heck, even mortals can perform magic.”

“We can?”

“Oh sure. I mean, you’ve heard of sorcerers, witches, and warlocks. Time was, your world once even had wizards, although I think you people killed most of them off back in the dark ages. And of course, this world is filled with all sorts of non-mortal beings that wield magic: fairies, demons, unicorns, and all that jazz.”

I found Mort’s casual attitude over his fantastic revelations unsettling, but I was too overcome with hope to focus on the implications of his words. I was less concerned with the possibility that fantasy creatures were secretly roaming the world than I was with getting my penis back. I had no reason to doubt his claims, after all I had already met a genie and had my wish granted. In a world where something that crazy was possible, why doubt that other legendary beings were real?

“Do you know where I can find someone who can perform magic?”

Mort stroked his chin.

“A few decades back, there was a gypsy in Baltimore I knew who was pretty good with curses. She was pretty old when I last saw her, and I bet she’s dead by now. That tends to be the problem with all you mortals. I mean, I’ve met a lot of mortals who can perform magic, but I never knew any of them who were able to achieve immortality, although that was a big focus for a lot of them. I would say look in a phone book. Those who wield magic often advertise the fact, the problem is that most mortals don’t take them seriously, you laugh them off as lunatics. And I can’t blame you. Most of them are.”

“And there’s no chance that you can use your magic to transform me the way you did the beer bottle?”

Mort put his fedora back on his head and titled it slightly to the side.

“There’s a world of difference between transforming a bottle of beer into a tulip and changing a mortal’s sex, let alone altering reality to accommodate for that change of sex. No, sweetheart, I can’t transform you back into a man out of the kindness of my heart.”

I paced back and forth in my room anxiously. Like the old saying goes, where there is life, there is hope. Mort may not have given me the answers I wanted to hear, but he did offer me reason to believe that this wasn’t the end of the road for me. First, it was theoretically possible to find someone who could wish to make me a man again. I understood it was asking a lot for someone to use a wish charitably to help someone else, but it was at least a remote possibility. Even if that proved impossible, Mort wasn’t the only being in the world capable of wielding magic. There might be other people or…things out there that could help me.

I didn’t think anyone still published phone books anymore, but I didn’t need one. With a computer, the whole vast library of human knowledge was at my disposal. Surely, I could find someone or something that could help me.

Chapter Twelve

I removed the makeup I had slept in with the moist towelettes I had found on my bathroom counter the day before then took a shower while Mort sat in my room reading one of the romance novels I had on the shelf of my credenza. After I was done grilling him for information, I told him he could do whatever he liked while I got ready. At first it struck me as strange that a genie would choose to read a trashy romance novel, but then I realized that I had no idea what normal behavior was for a genie. In fact, if I did live in a world full of genies, witches, and other magical beings, I was going to have to set aside a lot of preconceptions about the world that I had held throughout my life.

One of the preconceptions I had to set aside was the fantasy that sex as a woman was enjoyable. As I showered, I scrubbed the area between my legs with soap and water multiple times. I wanted to wash away the dried fluids down there, but more than that I wanted to wash away the feeling of Marco being inside of me. I swore to myself that I would never have sex again in this body. If I couldn’t find a way to change back into a man, I would take a vow of celibacy.

As disgusted as I was about what I had done the night before, there was a tiny part of my mind that reluctantly admitted that, up to a point, I had enjoyed the experience. I even thought that if Marco had allowed me to come…no, I refused to let my mind go there. That was the first, last, and only time I would ever degrade myself by allowing another man inside me. That was all there was to it.

I finished showering and blow-dried my hair. I grabbed one of the many hair ties that littered the bathroom counter and used it to put my hair up in a ponytail. Then I dressed in the panties, bra, t-shirt, and jeans I had picked out for myself. I looked at myself in the mirror to make sure nothing private was showing. I approved of my unisex outfit. No one would ever mistake me for a man with my figure, but at least I wasn’t dolled up like a bimbo the way I had been the night before.

Speaking of the night before, I walked over to my medicine cabinet and searched through it. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for. There was a blue rectangular plastic case next to my toothpaste. I opened it. There were several small pills lined up in rows within the case. A small plastic card attached to the inside of the case provided directions on how to take the prescription and included some warnings. I dutifully followed the instructions and swallowed the pill with a handful of water from the sink. I had missed the dose on Friday, but I hoped that Kelly had otherwise taken the birth control pills regularly.

I opened the bathroom door and walked into my bedroom, staring at Mort as he flipped through the pages of a novel titled The Fire of His Loins, which had on the cover the image of a shirtless firefighter staring at a half-dressed blonde girl lying on a bed next to him.

“How is it?” I asked Mort.

“The female mind is an intriguing thing,” Mort said with an air of detachment.

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer. I opened up my web browser and navigated to a search engine. I did some quick research to plan out my day.

It was almost 7:00 a.m. and I still felt like crap. I was hungover and feeling sorry for myself about everything that had happened. But it’s not in my nature to sit on my ass and do nothing even in the face of hopeless odds. Even when things are at their worst, I automatically have to put together some kind of plan. Otherwise, I begin to go up the wall. So instead of sitting in bed all day crying, like I felt like doing, I decided to confront all the problems on my plate.

After I was done gathering the information I needed, I slipped on a pair of low-cut socks, put on the pink canvas shoes I had worn to the mall on my first night as a woman, and hung my purse from my shoulder.

I stepped over to my bedroom door and turned to Mort to say, “I’m going out to run some errands. While I’m gone, feel free to do whatever it is that genies do.”

“Thank you, my benevolent master,” Mort said sardonically. “How generous you are to a lowly wretch such as I.”

I glowered at him.

“I appreciate the sentiment, sweetheart, but like I’ve told you before, my astral form goes wherever the ring goes. I mean, I can travel to Paris or the pyramids of Egypt or the Great Wall of China or wherever, but the essence of me will always be wrapped around your little finger until you hand me off to someone else…or just ditch the ring.”

I examined the turquoise ring on my finger.

“Fine. Whatever. Just stay out of trouble.”

“I could say the same to you,” Mort said as I walked out of my bedroom and closed the door behind me.

I backed my car out of the garage and drove to a pharmacy a few blocks away. I went inside and searched the aisles for what I needed. I expected it to be in the family planning section, but all I found there were condoms, spermicides, and pregnancy tests. I shuddered at the sight of that last item.

Stumped, I walked over to a dowdy middle-aged woman busily stocking shelves and said in a subdued tone, “Excuse me, do you guys carry the morning after pill?”

Without even bothering to look at me, she said, “Ask for it up at the front register, the cashier will give it to you.”

I thanked her and made my way to the checkout counter, grabbing a plastic bottle of water along the way.

I winced when I saw that the cashier was a young man about my age with close-cropped reddish-brown hair and a matching goatee that contrasted with his alabaster skin. His was not a pleasant face to look at, but I wasn’t concerned about his looks. Having to ask a man for emergency contraception was more humiliation than I could endure. But I was desperate, and desperation is a great motivator.

I walked up to the cashier, who couldn’t help but sneak a glance at my breasts, and asked for the morning after pill. He gave me a curious look then grabbed a small cardboard box off the shelf behind him, which was otherwise filled with hard liquor, razor blades, and pricey bottles of perfume and cologne. I suppose the store’s most highly prized items had to be kept in a safe place.

The cashier placed the cardboard box on the counter next to the bottle of water I had put there, rang me up, and said, “That’ll be two-fifty for the water and fifty dollars for the pill.”

I grabbed my credit card from out of my purse and paid what I owed.

“Are you going to need a bag for that?” the cashier asked.

“No thanks,” I said.

He handed me my receipt and I walked toward the exit as quickly as I could, the cashier’s gaze following me out the door. I hoped he was simply checking me out, but I was embarrassed to think his head was filling with all sorts of ideas about what I had been up to the night before that I urgently needed a contraceptive first thing on a Saturday morning. Was life as a woman going to be nothing but an endless series of humiliations?

I got into my car and read the directions and advisories for the pill. I had read online that it was safe to take while using regular birth control and that it was more than ninety-percent effective if taken within forty-eight hours of intercourse. The packaging for the pill verified all of that. With my hands trembling, I placed the pill on my tongue and opened the bottle of water, taking a long drink from it to wash down the pill. I tossed the empty packaging onto the passenger-side seat.

Hopefully the pill would do the trick, because if the unthinkable should happen and I found out that asshole had gotten me pregnant, there was no doubt in my mind that I would get an abortion. As a man, I had believed life began at conception. As a woman, my feelings about when life began hadn’t changed, but there was no way in hell I was going to raise a baby that some piece of shit had put inside me after one night of drunken sex.

I next drove to a clinic I had found online. It was the only one in the area that was open on weekends and provided the services I needed. I made my way to the crowded waiting room and checked-in with the receptionist seated at a desk behind a sliding glass window. I let her know why I was there and gave her my information then took a seat, scrolling through my phone listlessly and trying to avoid making eye contact with the other waiting patients.

After an hour, a nurse called my name and led me into an examination room. She sat down with me and went through a list of screening questions. How many partners had I been with in the past year? When was my last sexual encounter? Did I use contraception? What kind? Did I use drugs? Did I share needles? I answered the slew of questions to the best of my ability, given that I didn’t know Kelly Rodriguez or her regular habits all that well.

When we were done with the screening, she told me that I was considered a high-risk patient. More good news. She explained the tests that would be run and told me that the results would be emailed to me in a few days. Then she went over some government-mandated advisories with me.

Once all the pleasantries were out of the way, she put on some latex gloves, grabbed a couple of syringes, prepped my left arm, and drew blood samples.

I left the clinic feeling anxious about my pending results. A part of me wished that I had not bothered to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. But the more rational part of my mind knew that I would slowly go crazy over the next few days worrying about all the possible diseases my little tryst with Marco might have left me with. I knew I did the right thing in going to the clinic, but as my head swirled with visions of an urgent phone call from the clinic advising me that I had contracted some horrible virus, I knew that I would be on edge until I received that email assuring me that I had a clean bill of health.

I had one more stop to make. I got in my car and used my phone to look up the address I had found online earlier. It seemed like a long shot, but all I had left were long shots.

As I drove away from the clinic, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. This was all so much harder than I had imagined it would be. Life was so unfair. What had I done to deserve this?

I wiped the tear away. No point in crying and feeling sorry for myself. I had to pull it together. There were things that needed doing.

Chapter Thirteen

I parked my car out in front of the modest-looking storefront tucked in between a dry cleaner on one side and a furniture retailer on the other. Its window displays were filled with books and religious relics along with eclectic articles of clothing that included cloaks, caftans, turbans, and headdresses. At first glance, it looked like a bookstore that also traded in novelty items. The name written over the main entrance in large golden letters laid that impression to rest. The gold lettering read, “Madam Zolga’s Occult Science Academy.”

Mort had said that normal people have a tendency to dismiss practitioners of magic as lunatics. It stood to reason that some of the people who professed a belief in the paranormal were not, as I had always assumed, nutcases. Maybe some of them were right. With that in mind, I head searched online for new age spiritual groups, fortunetellers, magic shops, exorcists, ghost hunters and any other organizations that dealt in the paranormal. I knew the idea was ridiculous and I would probably get scammed by a huckster if I wasn’t careful, but I had to try something.

Before I could get out of my car, I received a text message on my phone.

“U ok honey? Haven’t seen u all day.”

It was from Ashley.

I looked at the time. It was nearly noon, and I hadn’t bothered to check in with any of the girls. For all they knew, Marco had taken me out into the woods and cut me into pieces or something.

I wrote back, “Yes, I’m fine. Out running some errands. I’ll be home soon.”

“Good,” Ashley wrote back. “Don’t make me worry about ur skanky ass.”

I felt a little better knowing there was someone worried about me. That wasn’t a familiar feeling, but it was a welcome one.

I stepped out of my car and walked into Madam Zolga’s. A bell hung from the door and rang to announce my presence.

I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the place reminded me of a high-end antiques store, filled as it was with ornate wooden bookshelves and other furniture loaded with various items ranging from leatherbound books to candles to statuettes to jewelry. The shop was empty except for a woman who stood on a step ladder beside a bookshelf stocked with large glass jars that contained what appeared to be an array of spices and tea leaves. She was a pale-skinned woman with long dark hair and bright blue eyes who appeared to be in her thirties. The glasses she wore perched low along the bridge of her nose gave her an intellectual air, while the flowing burgundy dress and aquamarine vest she wore added a festive flair to her look. She was busy placing a jar full of what looked like cinnamon sticks on the bookshelf, but when she saw me enter, she turned her full attention to me.

I took a few halting steps toward the woman and said, “Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could help me.”

She nodded and put down the jar she was holding. After climbing down from the step ladder on which she had been standing, she gazed at me, lowering her eyes down to my shoes and then raising them slowly to stare into my face.

“Let me guess,” the woman said, “you met a djinn and made a wish, now you want to know if there’s a way to reverse the wish?”

I gasped.

“Yes! That’s right! How did you know?”

“I’m psychic, my dear.”

“You…you can read my mind?” I asked, awe in my voice.

“No,” she said, “I can see your aura. It’s in bad shape, and I know of only one thing that leaves a mark like that. That is the telltale sign of a djinn’s handiwork.”

She came closer to me, and I looked up at her. Like almost everyone else I had met recently, she was taller than me, probably by at least half a foot. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to losing my former height.

The woman glared at my chest and said, “Don’t tell me, you wished for bigger breasts and now you’re stuck with those, is that it?”

“Not quite,” I replied.

“Hmmm. It was a fair guess. That’s one of the most common wishes women make. I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to learn that the most common wish among men is to increase the size of their penis. And, of course, the most common wish of all is for wealth. I’ve yet to meet anyone who was made any happier by getting any of those wishes granted.”

“Is that true?”

She frowned at me and said, “Why would I lie to a complete stranger?”

“Right, well, I guess I’ll take your word for it. Look, here’s what happened. A few days ago, I was a man named David Rodriguez. When I found the genie, I was pretty drunk, and I didn’t believe he was real. As a sort of lark, I made a wish to be turned into a beautiful girl. The genie did his thing and David Rodriguez ceased to exist and was replaced by Kelly Rodriguez. From what I can tell, he changed things to make it so that I was born a girl, and now no one even remembers who I used to be.”

The woman cocked her head to one side curiously and said, “Ah, you’re one of those. The number of skeptics out there never ceases to amaze me. You would think with all the extraordinary things in the world, people would be a little more open minded when faced with the fantastic. Yet when confronted with magic for the first time, a lot of people refuse to take it seriously and play around with it much like you did.” She waved her hand up and down, sweeping over the length of my body, and added, “Were you a cross-dresser or something? Or were you one of those men who liked to fantasize about being a girl?”

“It was a gag,” I insisted. “I didn’t seriously believe I would become a girl.”

“As you say.” She extended her open hand out toward me. “My name is Erica Zolga, by the way. I’m the proprietor of this establishment. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Rodriguez.”

I shook her hand. “Kelly is fine.”

“Only if you call me Erica. Don’t be embarrassed about your wish. Body swapping and switching genders are also common wishes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Can you help me?”

“I most certainly can,” Erica assured me. “I have several talismans in stock that can ward off djinn. Those miserable creatures bring trouble with them wherever they go.”

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way. But that’s not what I mean. What I’m asking is, can you help me become a man again?”

“Oh, that. This thing you’re asking for, it’s not a question with a simple answer. Imagine walking up to a physicist at a university and asking him if he can help you build a nuclear power plant. Is such a thing possible? Yes, in theory. Is such a thing practical? That depends. Do you have the time, money, skill, and other resources necessary to accomplish the task?”

“Please, Erica, I’m begging you, give me a simple yes or no answer. Can you turn me back into a man?”

Erica shook her head.

“No. I lack the skill for that kind of transformation. Moreover, the djinn who granted your wish was unusually thorough. Whenever someone makes a wish to be transformed into another person, djinn typically do no more than change their physical form. The person’s new form generally has no identity or history, they just appear out of thin air. It’s rare for a djinn to go through the trouble of altering reality to accommodate a new identity. There are beings in this world who can transform you into a man, but very few of them can alter reality to give you back your old life. Those beings who possess such power are not the sort to trust easily.”

“Why not?”

“Power corrupts in all its forms, that’s true whether we’re talking about money, politics, beauty, smarts, or magic. The sort of thing you’re asking for comes at a high price. I mean, a demon could probably do it in exchange for your immortal soul. Some witches possess sufficient power to make it happen, and they may only ask for a human sacrifice. And a unicorn will grant you a wish if you save its life, but that’s probably not going to happen.”

“Saving a unicorn’s life doesn’t sound so bad. Do you know where I could find one?”

She laughed.

“Yes, I do, but unicorns are extremely powerful creatures. Anything that could threaten a unicorn’s life would destroy you easily. I’m afraid you don’t understand the enormity of what you’re asking for.”

My conversation with Erica was giving me a headache. A few days ago, my biggest problems in life had been my enduring virginity, dealing with obnoxious coworkers, and having to live with catty roommates. Now I was talking to a psychic about magic and unicorns so I could figure out how to reverse a genie’s wish. There was a sharp, throbbing pain at my temples. My brain could not handle all this weirdness.

Despite all that, I wasn’t ready to give up.

I looked into Erica’s eyes and said, “Then can you at least help me to understand? Can you teach me about magic? If I can’t reverse this wish, then I want to at least understand what I’m dealing with. I mean, in the last couple of days I’ve learned that there’s this whole hidden magical world I never knew about. Is there like a textbook I can read to explain it or something? Maybe an encyclopedia?”

Erica nodded and pointed a finger at me.

“I can help you there. Knowledge, after all, is a greater form of power than magic.”

Erica walked over to a nearby bookshelf and removed a book bound in black leather with gold letters on the cover. She handed it to me, and I saw that the words on the cover stated simply The Treatise.

“You’re not handing me the Necronomicon, are you?” I asked as I took the book and opened it to the first page.

“I hardly think you’re ready for that. No, this is a primer on magic. It won’t teach you to cast spells or anything like that, but it’ll explain some basic concepts that you need to know to understand magic, what it is and how it works.”

Written on the first page of the book was the full title, it read Professor Erik Weisz’s Learned Treatise on the Origins of Aether and Other Cosmological Forces that Affect the Natural World. That was quite a lofty title, but when I recognized the name, I raised my head and stared at Erica.

“You’re giving me a book written by Harry Houdini? The guy was a magician. I’m not an idiot, I’m not going to fall for this.”

“I’m not giving you a book written by Harry Houdini,” Erica corrected me. “I’m selling you a book written by Harry Houdini. And please don’t use that ridiculous stage name. Professor Weisz was one of the greatest magicians in the history of mankind. To think that people only remember him for those parlor tricks he performed to fund his research. He was a brilliant man, and this book will explain the basic mechanics of magic as it is practiced by mortals.”

“Fine,” I said with heavy resignation in my voice. If Erica was hustling me, it could hardly put me in a worse position. “How much is it?”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars,” she said.

“That’s outrageous.”

“Knowledge is power,” she reminded me.

“Do you accept credit cards?”

“Of course. Are you going to need a bag for that?”

“No thanks.”

After I paid her, Erica said, “Now that’s dense reading material and it will probably take you a while to get through it, and more than a few people curious about magic have declined to pour through Professor Weisz’s entire work. But if you do manage to finish the whole thing, I imagine you’ll want to come back and ask me some more questions. Please do, I’m more than happy to offer additional education.”

“At a price, of course.”

“At a price,” she said with a nod.

Chapter Fourteen

I spent the afternoon reading the Treatise at a coffee shop down the street from Erica’s place. As she had warned me, it was hardly an easy read. But the first few chapters convinced me that I had not been scammed.

The book began by describing the various forces that flowed through the universe and the effects they had on one another. I was surprised to find that gravity and space-time were among the subjects discussed alongside aether, karma, and other forces I had never heard of before. The subject of mana was of particular interest to me given my earlier discussion with Mort. The Treatise read like a textbook on biology, chemistry, or physics, it took a serious, straightforward approach to its subject. Overall, the book explained a lot, although it raised even more questions.

According to Houdini, magic was simply the product of the manipulation of some of the forces he described in the book. There were various principles that one who wished to practice magic had to carefully observe. The book was intended to explain those principles.

It did not take me long to realize that by asking Mort and Erica to change me back into a man, I was like a caveman who had just discovered fire asking a modern day math teacher to build me an airplane. Magic was far more complicated than speaking a few words in Latin or cooking up a potion that included eye of newt. By reading the Treatise, I became aware of a whole world of information that I didn’t understand, and it was going to be a challenge to learn about it all and overcome my ignorance. In the end, there was no guarantee that I would learn enough to be able to get my old life back.

I received several texts and phone calls while I was at the coffee shop. People whose names I didn’t recognize were checking in to see what I was up to and asking if I wanted to go out that night. Some of them were men, others apparently Kelly’s girlfriends. She was a popular girl, all right. And here I was trying to figure out how to get rid of her.

As the evening drew near, I found myself unable to focus on the text, and no number of lattes could keep my eyes pried open. I decided to take a break and return home.

I parked my car in the townhouse’s garage and walked up the stairs into the kitchen.

“Kelly, is that you?” Becky called from the living room.

“It’s me,” I said as I continued up the stairs to the second floor.

Becky and Emma stepped into the kitchen.

“Where have you been all day, honey?” Becky said. “We’ve been worried about you. Did something happen with that guy last night?”

I stopped walking up the stairs and turned to look at both of them. They were dressed in sweats and pajamas, expressions of concern etched into their faces.

“I don’t feel like talking about it,” I said.

“Don’t be like that,” Emma said. “If something happened, you can tell us. It’s not like you to disappear on us like that.”

I swallowed hard. I had no desire to talk about what was bothering me, but I didn’t want to upset them. It was obvious they cared about me, and I didn’t feel right dismissing their concerns.

“I…uh…I had sex with that guy.”

I hadn’t realized just how ashamed I was about what had happened the night before until I forced the words out of my mouth. I felt like I was confessing to a crime.

“And?” Becky said.

“Yeah, did he not want to leave after it was over or something?” Emma asked.

I’m not sure what sort of response I had been expecting, but that wasn’t it.

“No…I didn’t plan for that to happen and afterward…I felt…it wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Oh my god,” Becky said, “was he not able to get it up? You guys drank a lot before you left the club. That can make it tough for a guy to perform.”

With some irritation in my voice, I said, “Look, I don’t have sex with a man every day, it was a weird experience for me. I wasn’t ready for it.”

A puzzled expression filled Becky’s face.

“What do you mean? You hook up with guys all the time. No one is judging you, honey, but it’s not like last night was your first rodeo. You’re acting like you lost your virginity or something. Normally, after you bring a guy home and kick him out of bed in the morning, you can’t wait to give us the rundown on what he was like. Today, you run off at the crack of dawn and disappear all day. We thought he might have hurt you or something.”

I was growing frustrated. I couldn’t think of any way to explain to them that I wasn’t the person they thought I was. Yes, it was difficult to adjust to life as a woman. It was even more difficult to assume the life of a total stranger, with everyone in my life having completely alien expectations about me. There was so much I didn’t know about the person I had become. Maybe the Kelly they knew was used to taking random men to bed with her, but this Kelly wasn’t. On top of everything else I was dealing with, now I had to figure out who I was, a stranger in a strange life.

“I’m fine,” I said. “You guys don’t need to worry.”

“Okay,” Emma said. “What do you have there?”

Emma and Becky stared at the book I was holding in my hands.

“Uh…it’s a self-help book. I need to change who I am. I think this book will help me do that.”

Emma and Becky exchanged curious looks with one another.

“Well, okay, sweetie,” Emma said. “If you feel like talking, we’ll be here.”

With that, I continued climbing the stairs and went into my bedroom.

I tossed the Treatise on my desk, turned on the television, and found a baseball game, then crawled onto my bed. After watching a couple of innings, I was pleased to learn that my sex change hadn’t affected my interest in sports. That made sense. Plenty of women enjoyed sports. No reason that being full of estrogen rather than testosterone should change that. What did change was the fact that I now found myself checking out the players. There was no getting around it, even when I tried to relax by watching a game, it was impossible to ignore the way my transformation had changed me.

There was a knock on the door and Ashley stepped inside.

“Hey, baby,” she said. “Becky and Emma told me you had finally come home. I wanted to see how you were doing. Sounds like you had kind of a rough night.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

Ashley walked over to my bed and sat beside me.

“Oh, honey, I know it’s none of my business, but it’s tough not to say something when I see you like this. If you’re having fun living it up like you did last night, I get it. I just don’t think it’s good for you.”

I sighed.

“You’re preaching to the choir,” I said. “Ashley, this is difficult for me to explain. I’m not the person you think I am. In the last couple of days, I’ve changed. This is not my life. It’s someone else’s life. And I don’t want it. Unfortunately, this is the life I’m stuck with. Everyone has all these ideas about me, but they don’t know who I am. They only think they do. They see me as this girl who acts a certain way and does certain things. That’s not who I really am, though. I know this makes zero sense, I’m sure I sound crazy, but it’s the best way I can think to explain it.”

Ashley put her hand on my shoulder and said, “It makes perfect sense, Kelly. You’re not the first person to feel that way. Sometimes the difference between the way we see ourselves and the way other people see us can come as a shock. If you’re not happy about something you’re doing, you can change it up whenever you want. It’s your life, honey, and you decide what you make out of it.”

I knew there was no way to make her understand. I suppose I could have summoned Mort and had him explain to her about djinn and wishes and mana and magic and all the fantastic things I had learned about in the last few days. What good would it have done? It would probably have scared her. I mean, it wasn’t as if learning about those things had improved my life.

Anyway, it wasn’t important to explain that stuff to her. The important thing was that Ashley was concerned about me and wanted to make me feel better. The funny thing was, just by letting me know that she cared about me, she actually had made me feel better.

I looked over at Ashley, saw the affection she had for me reflected in her eyes. Her kindness touched me deep down in a place that I had not known existed, and all the anger, fear, and anxiety I had been dealing with all day began to seep out of me. Tears flowed from my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and lay my head on Ashley’s lap.

“I let that guy fuck me, Ashley,” I whimpered. “He used me. I let him use me. I feel so dirty. I thought I was having fun, but when I woke up this morning, all I felt was shame. This isn’t who I want to be. This isn’t the life I want. But I’m trapped like this with no way out.”

Ashley ran her fingers through my hair as she stroked my head.

“It’s all right, honey, there’s no reason to feel ashamed over it. If you want to sleep with someone, that’s your choice. Never let anyone make you feel bad about sex. It’s sounds to me, though, like that’s not what you wanted. That’s okay, too. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

“It sure as fuck felt wrong,” I said. “All of this feels wrong.”

“You’re a grown woman. You make your choices. It’s fine to regret some of those choices. Learn from them.”

I sat up in bed and wiped away my tears. Then I gave Ashley a hug.

“Thanks. I’ve been feeling like shit all day. I feel better knowing you don’t think I’m a slut for what I did.”

Ashley wrapped her arms tight around me and said, “Get over it, honey. You’re a girl who made a mistake. It happens to the best of us. You’re still awesome in my book.”

Ashley looked over at the television.

“Why are you watching baseball?”

I let go of her and plopped back down on the bed.

“I’ve always watched baseball.”

“Since when?”

“There are a lot of things about me that you don’t know,” I said. “You may be in for a few surprises.”

“You always surprise me, baby. Speaking of which, I have a surprise for you. Emma and Becky want to go to the beach tomorrow. Get some sleep, we want to head out early tomorrow to beat the traffic.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said. “What time will we get back?”

“I don’t know. Why? Do you have big plans for tomorrow?”

“It’s Sunday. The Mustangs are playing the Phantoms in the afternoon. I want to watch the game on television.”

“You mean a football game?”

“Yes, that’s the idea.”

Ashley giggled.

“You are so weird.”

Ashley gave me another quick hug then got up and walked out of my room.

I lay on my bed after she left. Yes, I was weird. And I got the feeling things were about to get a whole lot weirder.

Chapter Fifteen

That night, I had more strange dreams.

I saw a younger version of myself as Kelly, about the age of twelve, standing in the bathroom of my childhood home staring at my flat chest in the mirror, a forlorn look on my face.

“When am I going to grow boobs?” I asked my younger self rhetorically.

Clearly, I had no idea what I was in for.

By way of my dreams, I lived through days and weeks of my adolescence as Kelly. I lived in the same house I had grown up in as David with my parents and two older brothers. I was intrigued by the way my family dynamic changed because I was a girl. As David, I had spent a lot of time with my brothers helping my father fix cars at the repair shop he owned. As Kelly, on the other hand, I spent the bulk of my time helping my mother with the cooking, dishwashing, housecleaning, and laundry. My childhood as Kelly was otherwise similar to my childhood as David, except of course that I spent more of my time hanging out with the girls in my neighborhood rather than the boys.

There was one exception. As David, when I was young, I had been bullied by this kid named Randall who lived up the street from me. He was a big fifteen-year-old brute who spent his time lifting weights in his backyard and fighting other boys to prove how tough he was. He had knocked me around in the alleyway behind my house once after he had found me talking to his girlfriend, Nicole, a girl that I had a crush on. I was shocked to learn that, as Kelly, I had developed a crush on Randall. I secretly watched him work out from my bedroom window. Eventually, I caught Randall’s eye and I snuck away with him to the alleyway where we made out. I was crazy about him. That was why I didn’t hesitate one day when he asked me to do something for him that he had seen a girl do in an adult movie he had found online. When the two of us were alone in Randall’s bedroom, he lowered his pants and I dropped to my knees in front of him. I think I enjoyed it more than he did. I did that for Randall several times and kept making out with him until he met Nicole, a girl that he liked better. Nicole came up to me after school one day and threatened to kick my ass if I ever went near Randall again. Broken-hearted, I ran home and cried.

Flash forward a couple of years and I was about fourteen, having filled out dramatically to my present proportions. I was enrolled at Saint Mary’s, a Catholic high school for girls. That struck me as interesting because, as David, I had gone to a Catholic high school for boys called Bishop Morton’s. The two schools were only a few blocks apart and the boys from Bishop Morton’s had often dropped by to visit the girls at Saint Mary’s, so I had been somewhat familiar with Saint Mary’s as David.

I looked ridiculous in the uniform the girls at Saint Mary’s wore, a gray skirt and red polo shirt. I saw myself attending classes and earning good grades. I seemed popular with my classmates, not something that had been true of me in high school as David.

One day, I went with some of the other girls at school to Bishop Morton’s to try out for their cheerleading team. Because of course there were no girls at Bishop Morton’s, they recruited girls from other high schools to serve as cheerleaders for their football team. The other girls and I eagerly performed for the cheerleading staff and were elated when we made the team. I saw myself show up each Friday night to the sidelines of Bishop Morton’s football field to cheer.

I thought that was funny considering that, as David, I had played a couple of seasons as a running back for Bishop Morton’s football team. I spent most of that time getting knocked flat on my ass by opposing teams before being replaced by a guy named Carlos who managed to stay on his feet more often than I did. Carlos was an arrogant asshole who constantly sought the limelight, which made it that much more difficult for me to accept that he was the better player. I spent the rest of my time on the team as a benchwarmer before quitting.

As Kelly, I eventually became cheer captain. I had fun performing routines for the crowd with my fellow cheerleaders, but what I really enjoyed was checking out the guys on the football team. Although most of the boys on the team flirted with me, my heart was set on the team’s star running back, Carlos. I caught his eye and the two of us became very cozy. We spent all our time together, walking hand-in-hand at the mall or strolling through the park or watching a movie or going for a swim at the beach. We made out constantly and I had no reservations about doing for him the same thing I had done for Randall on so many occasions. We were in love, and I decided that I wanted Carlos to be the man who made a woman out of me. It was awkward the first time we made love in my bedroom while my family was out of the house, the two of us rushing to get our clothes off and fumbling through the deed, but it was sweet and tender in its own way. We got better at it after plenty of practice. As my relationship with Carlos progressed, I began to entertain ideas of a future together, even daydreaming about our wedding.

Carlos and I dated throughout high school, but after we graduated, Carlos joined the military and broke up with me. Broken-hearted once again, I wept over my loss. The summer between high school and college dragged on in my dreams because of my heart ache.

Then came the day when my parents drove me to college and helped me move into my dorm. They were sorry to see me go, but they were also very proud of me. That part wasn’t too different from what my experience as David had been like. Everything that followed in my college experience was a different story.

As David, my college roommate had been a finance major from Pittsburgh named Paul, a handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed frat boy who attended on a lacrosse scholarship. We got along all right, but we were far from friends. He and his lacrosse teammates would play beer pong and chase girls while I spent most of my time studying alone in the library or hanging out with a group of guys majoring in computer science and engineering. The only thing that really bothered me about Paul was the fact that he forced me to sleep in my dorm’s recreation room whenever he used our room to sleep with his girlfriend, an airhead named Molly who had a reputation for sleeping around.

My time in college as David was spent hanging out with other socially awkward young men, playing video games online, and watching porn. I had aspirations of pursuing a degree in engineering, but my math scores were abysmal, and I ended up majoring in history. The only other noteworthy consequence of my college career was that I took up drinking as a hobby to cope with my boredom and to dull the pain of my loneliness.

As Kelly, I was roommates with Molly. She was not as academically talented as I was, but we were both ex-cheerleaders, shared a passion for cooking, and liked to work out. From those common interests, we quickly developed a strong bond. She was the one who introduced me to Paul at a fraternity party, and it was love at first sight.

Or at least we made love the first night that we met. From then on, I was Paul’s girl, and my world revolved around him. Whenever we were apart, I would count the minutes until I could see him again. I would spoil him by cooking fancy meals for him in the kitchenette of my dorm’s common room. He always made me laugh when we were together, and I felt comfortable sharing everything about myself with him. The sex was incredible. I was nervous the first time he wanted me to try anal, but once I saw how much he enjoyed it, I eagerly offered it to him whenever I wanted to get him excited. After that, I never hesitated to do anything he asked of me in the bedroom.

I had never been as happy at any time in my life as those days when Paul and I were together.

Then on one horrible night during another fraternity party, I walked in on him in bed with another girl. It was the worst moment of my life, made even worse over the next few days as I learned from word of mouth that she was only the latest girl, that he had been with others. I spent days alone in bed crying in agony over the betrayal. I had never trusted anyone as much as I had trusted Paul, had never loved anyone as deeply. Molly watched over me and comforted me, slowly helping me to recover.

When I was strong enough to handle it, Molly and I went out and partied hard. Being a promiscuous girl herself, she taught me that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. I spent the rest of my time in college partying, drinking, and hooking up with as many different men as I could find. It helped dull the pain of the heartbreak, but it didn’t fill the void that grew within me. Worse still, my new approach to college life hurt my grades, and after failing some critical classes I had to switch my major from engineering to history in order to graduate on time.

As these dreams filtered through my mind’s eye, I came to understand that they weren’t dreams at all, but rather memories. I awoke with that sudden revelation, finding that it was the middle of the night, and the television was still blaring, the baseball game now replaced by an infomercial. I turned off the television and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

The contrast between my life as David and my life as Kelly was unsettling on multiple levels.

To begin with, I was embarrassed that as Kelly, I had given myself to guys that I had resented as David. Randall, Carlos, and Paul. David had an axe to grind with all of them. Yet Kelly had loved each of them in turn, had her heart broken by all three. It was humiliating to have been used by former rivals that way.

But despite the embarrassment I felt over the altered nature of my relationships with each of the three, as I reflected on my new memories as Kelly, I couldn’t avoid thinking that those relationships had somehow been more fulfilling as Kelly. Yes, Kelly had been hurt by all three boys. On the other hand, none of them had ever held David, kissed him, told him they loved him. Kelly had felt what it was like to be loved by them, desired by them, even worshipped by them. The memory of those feelings was pleasant, notwithstanding the pain that followed.

I don’t know, maybe if David had ever been in love, then it would be a different story. But he had never experienced love like that. Maybe he never would have experienced love like that. It was impossible to say.

It was difficult for me to admit it to myself, but if I were being perfectly honest, I had done better as a woman than as a man. Not only had I been better off as a girl, but I had been better at being a girl. Kelly was an object of love, of desire, of devotion. She wasn’t perfect, but men wanted her. David? He was a perennial loner. Who wanted him? Who needed him? Most of the time, he didn’t even want to be around himself.

I thought back to what Marco had said that night at the club, about how I must not have made for much of a man. It was true.

They say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. The contrast between my life as Kelly Rodriguez and my life as David Rodriguez highlighted the poignancy of those words. The heart ache through which Kelly had suffered on occasion was nowhere near as painful as the self-imposed isolation through which David had suffered all his life.

Chapter Sixteen

It took me a long time to go back to sleep after I woke up in the middle of the night. Thankfully, I had no further dreams that night, which was good for my sanity’s sake.

When I woke up again in the morning, my alarm clock told me that it was 6:00 a.m. I got out of bed, and before doing anything else, I called out to Mort. There was a familiar puff of black smoke and suddenly Mort was standing in front of me, smiling warmly.

He doffed his cap theatrically, bowed, and asked, “How may I be of service to you this fine morning, my dear?”

“Well, since you can’t make me a man again, how about we start by you telling me what you know about these dreams I’ve been having?”

“Dreams?” Mort said, putting his hat back on his head. “What dreams?”

“Ever since you granted my wish, whenever I go to sleep, I have these vivid dreams of my life as Kelly. Dreams of being a child, a teenager, a college student. Different points in life. Only I don’t think they’re dreams. I think they’re memories of things that actually happened to Kelly.”

“Ah, it sounds like you’ve been having reverse amnesia. That sort of thing can happen when reality changes around you. You see, sweetheart, there’s a whole lifetime’s worth of memories that are a part of the new you. You didn’t live through those memories firsthand, that’s why you can’t remember them like you can the memories of your old life. But those memories are in there. They’ll seep in gradually. For a while, they may even seep in through your dreams.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that sooner?”

Mort shrugged.

“Forgive me, I thought it was all mentioned in the user’s manual.”

I sighed in irritation.

“Where have you been, anyway?”

“Oh, I’ve been roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it. Don’t worry, though, you always have me wrapped around your little finger, as long as you’ve still got that ring.”

I eyed Mort warily.

“I met a psychic the other day who warned me that djinn are troublesome creatures. She told me to avoid them.”

“She sounds like a smart woman,” Mort said. “Too bad for you that you didn’t meet her sooner, no?”

“I agree.”

“Come now,” Mort said. “I’m only teasing. Djinn are no different than any other beings. Some of us are good, some of us are bad, most of us are just trying to get by.”

I took a moment to think.

“Mort, if you had a wish, what would you wish for?”

“That’s an easy one. I would wish for more mana.”

“What about your freedom? Wouldn’t you wish for that?”

“Freedom? I’m already free. What would be the point in wishing for that?”

“I mean freedom from the ring,” I said. “That way, you wouldn’t have to grant wishes for people, and you could go do whatever you want.”

“I already do whatever I want, sweetheart. I’m not trapped in the ring. I’m not your slave. That’s not how it works. My true form exists on one plane of existence, I travel here through a tear in the fabric of reality that takes the form of the ring, but it’s really a gateway between worlds. I take advantage of it to get what I need, but I’m not chained to it. My astral form can travel anywhere in the cosmos at any time. I’m as free as a bird, sister.”

“Oh,” I said. “So you don’t have to show up when I call you?”

“I don’t show up when you call me. The essence of me is always with the ring. I go where it goes no matter where I am. Or rather, I should say, as long as you have the ring, you’re always here with me.”

“That’s confusing. Where are you right now?”

“You think that’s confusing? Imagine trying to wrap you head around my plane of existence. I couldn’t begin to explain it to you. The reality where I exist is nothing like yours. Our version of space-time, for example, doesn’t move in one direction like yours does. Sometimes it goes backwards and other times sideways. That’s why from your perspective, djinn are immortal. From our perspective, mortals only exist in a few spots on a spectrum.”

I shook my head and shoved Mort aside as I walked toward the bathroom.

“This is why I avoid talking to you, Mort. You make no sense.”

Mort laughed.

“You got moxie, sweetheart. That’s what I like about you.”

I used the bathroom, took a shower, and brushed my teeth. After I had dried off, I put on the pink bathrobe and searched through my dresser drawers. It didn’t take me long before I found a powder blue string bikini.

“Going for a swim?” Mort asked as he peered over my shoulder.

“Can you buzz off for a while?”

Mort smiled and nodded.

“For you? Always?”

He disappeared in a puff of smoke. Or at least it appeared that way. Our conversation left me wondering about whether he ever really left. And if he did leave, I wondered where he would go. If djinn occupied some other plane of existence, what must that be like?

I decided to put Mort and his supernatural lifestyle out of my mind while I prepared for my day at the beach with the girls.

I put on the bikini and examined myself in the mirror. It was of course quite revealing, but I was going to the beach, and I doubted that there was any swimsuit I could wear that wouldn’t leave me feeling naked. After all, wasn’t that the point of women’s swim wear, to leave them as exposed as possible? It sure seemed that way.

I found a pair of white denim shorts and a floral print blouse in hues of blue and pink and put them on over the bikini. I slipped on a pair of flip flops, grabbed my purse, and walked downstairs.

Emma was downstairs dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and a green tank top eating cereal and watching the morning news on television. I grabbed a bowl of bran cereal myself and joined her while we waited for Ashley and Becky.

“Feeling better?” Emma asked.

I nodded. “A good night’s sleep can do wonders.”

An hour later, all four of us were ready and we packed into Becky’s worn-down Jeep and drove to the beach. When we got there, it was early enough in the morning that the sun didn’t beat down on us too hard. Ashley and I undressed in the parking lot, just a few feet from the sand, while Emma went into the bathroom to change into her one-piece. Becky had driven to the beach in her bikini.

We walked over the warm sand and staked out a spot near the surf by laying out our towels. There were only a few other people near us, most of them couples or families. We lathered each other in sunscreen then went in for a dip.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” I exclaimed as the freezing water flowed over my toes.

“Don’t be a pussy!” Becky shouted. “Jump in and you’ll get used to it!”

Becky charged into the water, diving straight into the rolling tide and swimming nearly a hundred yards out. Emma walked into the water until she was waist-deep in it. I held Ashley’s hand as we slowly followed after them.

Before long, I adjusted to the water temperature and swam out alongside Becky, racing her to and from the shore. The four of us swam and splashed water on each other, frolicking along the surf like kids. Emma had brought a volleyball and we took turns passing it around to each other. After a while, we lay on our towels lazily, enjoying the feel of the sun and the cool sea breeze on our skin.

Around noon we packed up our things and walked over to the nearby boardwalk where we had lunch at a bar and grill with a large outdoor patio full of tables. We ordered burgers and a pitcher of beer. We talked and laughed about stupid, trivial things. I had fun and was feeling much better than I had the day before. Whatever else was true, I enjoyed spending time with the girls.

Then a thought occurred to me.

“If you guys could wish for anything in the world, what would you wish for?” I asked.

“Bigger boobs,” Emma said.

Becky and Ashley giggled.

“I’m serious,” I said.

“So am I,” Emma insisted. “You’re so lucky, Kelly. I would love to have boobs like yours. I mean, yeah, I could get a boob job, but implants never look real, and the fake boob thing is so tacky. To have big, natural boobies, that’s what I want.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Big boobs are overrated, honey. If I could trade you yours for mine, I would do it in a heartbeat. You’re welcome to the back pain and stares from horny creeps.”

“It’s a deal,” she said excitedly.

“If I could wish for anything in the world,” Becky said, “I would wish for fame and fortune. I’d wish to be an actress or celebrity. I’d live in a huge mansion and spend my life looking down on all the little people who made me.”

“Okay, cool, you’d wish to be a wealthier, cuntier version of yourself,” I said with a smirk.

“Eat my ass, bitch,” Becky said.

“What about you, Ashley?” I asked.

Ashley put her chin in her hand and darted her eyes back and forth for a few moments.

“I’d wish to be a man,” she said.

I laughed in astonishment.

“Why?”

“Men get the better end of the deal,” Ashley explained. “They can fuck whoever they want whenever they want without having to worry about getting knocked up or being called a slut. They can choose to have kids at whatever age they want. If they choose not to have kids at all, people envy them instead of looking down on them. They can be arrogant, self-absorbed assholes and everyone celebrates them for it. For men, life is easy and consequence free.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “Being a man is hard. You’re always fighting with other guys for respect, women never respect you unless you have money or influence, and no one ever offers you a helping hand. Life as a man is an endless struggle to keep your head above water. And if you ever breakdown or feel sorry for yourself, everyone thinks of you as a loser.”

“No,” Emma said, “I’m with Ashley. Guys have it easy, they have no idea how much harder everything is for women.”

“Naw,” Becky interjected. “I don’t think so. Think how much it must suck to have your junk dangling around between your legs all day. They must itch and sweat down there like crazy. Dudes have gross stuff going on with their bodies. The male body is just nastier all around than a woman’s body.”

“What are you, a dyke?” Ashley said.

“I’m not the one who wants a sex change,” Becky retorted.

The conversation went along those lines until we paid the bill and drove home. My attempt to gain some insight into whether I could trust any of the girls to use the ring to turn me into a man bore little fruit.

Chapter Seventeen

After we got back home, Becky and Emma took showers and went out to watch a movie. I decided to stay home, and Ashley offered to keep me company. We both sat on the couch wearing shorts and bikini tops as I turned on the television.

“What are we watching?” Ashley asked.

“I told you, I want to watch the football game.”

“Seriously? You weren’t joking?”

“No, I wasn’t joking. Are you going to watch with me or are you going to be a bitch about it?”

“I’ll watch,” Ashley said, “but I don’t know a damn thing about football.”

“That’s fine, I can teach you.”

As the game got started, I explained some of the basic rules to Ashley. The look on her face indicated that she didn’t follow what I was saying.

Toward the end of the first quarter, she asked me, “If they get four chances to move the ball ten yards, why do they always kick the ball away on the fourth try? Like, why just give it to the other team?”

“Because if they don’t gain the necessary yardage on fourth down, it’ll result in a turnover and the opposing team will take possession of the ball at the same spot, so it’s usually better to punt to improve field position for the defense.”

“I see,” Ashley said.

I appreciated that Ashley was willing to humor me. She was obviously out of her element but nevertheless put up with the game for my sake. I would have to think of a way to make it up to her later.

I was having fun watching the game. It took my mind off my troubles. Or it almost did. My body went back to its new habit of getting excited over the sight of physically imposing men as I eyed the players. The tingling between my legs grew especially intense whenever the camera crew shot close ups of the Mustangs quarterback Mac Kirkland. I had been a huge fan of Mac’s for a long time, but I had never noticed how cute he was with his wild mane of blond hair and bright blue eyes. There was no point in trying to deny that I was strongly attracted to him, and I didn’t mind accepting that fact. What bothered me was that my imagination kept wondering what it would feel like to have his hands caressing my skin, running over my arms and legs, and my…well, it went on from there. It was a distracting impulse.

“The guy who throws the ball for the Mustangs is hot as fuck,” Ashley said when Mac was on the screen.

“Yeah, I hadn’t noticed.”

“How could you not? The man looks like a Greek god. Fuck, I can see why you like to watch this game.”

The camera panned over the cheerleaders on the sidelines as they did several routines for the crowd at the stadium. Not for the first time, I focused on their breasts and butts and legs to try and feel something at the sight of them, to no avail. They looked too soft and lumpy and did nothing for me. I wanted big, hard muscles. Or at least my pussy got wet at the thought of big, hard muscles.

“Did you know I used to be a cheerleader in high school?” I said trying to change the subject.

“No, you never mentioned that. Is that what got you into football?”

“I guess.”

“Did you ever go out with any players?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend in high school was a running back.”

“Well, if he looked anything like that guy, I completely understand why you went out with him,” she said as Mac appeared on the screen again. “How come you never mentioned any of this before?”

“I only found out last night,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, uh, I was thinking about it the other night. You know…remembering it. I was thinking back to my high school days the other night. Those were good times.”

“Oh.”

During half-time, the camera crew focused on images of the new Mustangs owner, the famous tech guru Ethan Zuckerman, and his family as they watched the game from the owner’s box at the stadium. Ethan was a nerdy, middle-aged man with a receding hairline dressed in an expensive-looking business suit and he did absolutely nothing for me, thankfully. I felt bad for his wife, though, the notorious porn star Lexi Zuckerman who the tabloids dubbed “Sexy Lexi,” a gorgeous blonde girl with an amazing figure who looked nearly half his age. She was dressed in a skin-tight team jersey and a pair of denim shorts and five-inch heels that matched the team’s color scheme. She had become world famous by posting her adult movies on Ethan’s social media website, FanFaves, and supposedly that was how they had met. Lexi had a sad look on her face as she kept her distance from Ethan and watched the game with their five sons. Why had she married a guy like that when a woman with her looks could do so much better?

“I feel sorry for Lexi,” I told Ashley. “Imagine looking like her and going to bed with a guy like her husband?”

“I’m sure she feels sorry for girls like us. Girls like Sexy Lexi are happy to trade their pussies for cash. I mean, Lexi got famous by making porn and posting it on Zuckerman’s website. I bet she doesn’t care who drills her holes as long as she gets to live in the lap of luxury.”

“I don’t know. Would you be happy as some trophy wife?”

“It’s not for me,” Ashley conceded. “It’s not for a lot of girls. But for an airheaded bimbo like Sexy Lexi, I’m sure she thinks of her life as paradise on earth.”

My exchange with Ashley served to remind me how I now faced different power dynamics as Kelly than I had as David. As David, becoming a man like Ethan Zuckerman was probably never a realistic option. I couldn’t be a powerful billionaire who could get his hands on anything he wanted, a man who never took no for an answer. As Kelly, however, I now had the option of becoming a woman like Sexy Lexi by finding a sugar daddy who would take care of me and provide me with anything I asked for in exchange for surrendering my pussy to him whenever he wanted it. I was happy to say that the idea of becoming a trophy wife was no more appealing to me than it was to Ashley. Sexy Lexi could keep her gilded cage.

Of course, if I had made a wish to be a billionaire instead of a girl, then it might have been me up there in that owner’s box instead of Ethan Zuckerman. I sighed in regret at that thought.

The game ended in a win for the Mustangs over the Phantoms, leading me to squeal with delight. I felt a little embarrassed by the overly feminine response to the victory, but I was a girl and a former cheerleader, so embarrassing or not, it was appropriate.

After the game, I agreed to help Ashley prepare dinner for the two of us. As David, I had never learned to cook, but my dreams as Kelly had shown me enough about cooking so that I thought I could handle it. We took a quick trip to the supermarket and then came home to grill some salmon and prepare mixed vegetables and white rice for sides. It wasn’t a tough dish by any means and with some guidance from Ashley, I managed to help with the meal without looking like I was lost. In fact, it was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

After dinner, I went up to my room while Ashley kept watching television in the living room. I read the Treatise for a few hours, but I gradually found my thoughts drifting back to Mac Kirkland and his massive biceps. I felt myself getting moist between my legs. I tried to ignore my arousal, but I was no better at ignoring my horniness in Kelly’s body than I had been in David’s.

I put down the Treatise and picked up my phone. I searched for one of my favorite porno videos online. I played the video and watched a big guy dressed in a football player’s uniform stroll into a locker room with Sexy Lexi dressed in a cheerleader’s outfit. They briefly exchanged some dialogue about how he had won the game and now she had to fulfill her promise. Sexy Lexi was soon sucking off the football player, staring up at him as she knelt in front of him, holding his massive cock with one hand, occasionally pulling it out of her mouth to smile sweetly at him and tell him how much she was enjoying his penis. Eventually, they were both completely naked as he lay on a bench with Sexy Lexi mounted on top of him, riding his cock wildly.

As a man, I had loved watching Lexi’s enthusiasm throughout the video, enjoying the experience the more she seemed to enjoy it. Watching the video as a woman, I ignored Sexy Lexi. She had nothing on her that caught my interest. I was focused entirely on the guy. I loved the way the camera focused on his abdominals and his pecs, but I grew frustrated that the camera didn’t show more of the expressions on his face.

As my arousal increased, I was pretending that I was Lexi, that it was Mac Kirkland plowing away at me in the locker room after the game. But I wanted to see Mac’s face, to see how much he was enjoying the feeling of my tight little pussy around his big, hard cock. I settled for closing my eyes and trying to imagine it.

I unbuttoned my shorts and slipped my hand down underneath. I began fingering my vaginal lips, stroking my clitoris, and rubbing anything else I could find down there with my fingers. Each stroke of my hand sent those pleasant little electric bolts shooting out of my vagina and throughout my body. I loved the way it felt, and I craved release. Eventually the video ended, and I kept going. But nothing happened.

I played with myself until my hand began to cramp up. I let out a frustrated sigh. Masturbation as a woman felt much better than it had as a man, but achieving release was much less straightforward. As a man, I had always fiddled around with my penis until I eventually ejaculated. As a woman, fondling my private parts kept feeling better and better, but nothing like an ejaculation occurred. The buildup kept building up, but it built up to nothing.

I had heard that orgasms were tougher for women to achieve than for men, that some women had sex for years without ever achieving an orgasm. Some of them even believed they couldn’t achieve orgasm. I hoped that wasn’t going to be the case for me because my body was aching desperately for release and if I had to live any length of time without getting what I needed, I was going to lose my mind.

I took a cold shower and went to bed, practically feeling my privates pulse with an overwhelming yearning sensation I hadn’t been able to satisfy.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the feeling. I had to get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be the first day of what might turn out to be the rest of my life.

Chapter Eighteen

The next few days passed quickly.

Through my dreams, I learned more about my life as Kelly. As the dreams continued night after night, they became more vivid and I could tell I was picking up skills she had developed over the years, like cooking or applying makeup, little things like that. The more of her memories I experienced, the more I began to suspect that my personality was changing, although it was difficult to put my finger on it.

Each morning I went for a four-mile run. That was the highlight of every day, mainly I think because of the endorphin high, but also because when I went out for a run, that was the only time I ever felt perfectly comfortable as a girl. I felt young, athletic, and sexy. I felt girly in the best possible way. It got to the point that I purposely dressed provocatively when I went for a run, pairing my running shoes and compression shorts with only a sports bra. I felt like I was running in lingerie. And I liked it.

Work was the place where I was least comfortable as a woman. My male coworkers were flirtatious and ogled me constantly.

Henry was bad, but there was a certain playfulness in his approach toward me that was disarming. If not for the way Brooke shot daggers at me with her eyes any time Henry so much as glanced in my direction, I could overlook his attitude toward me.

Hunter, on the other hand, was downright predatory. He would corner me in the hallway or in the breakroom or in an office and tie me down in suggestive conversation until I could find a way to break free. It was intimidating to have him stand over me, preventing escape by using his much larger frame to fence me in. Few things made me feel smaller or weaker as a woman than when Hunter trapped me like that.

My ongoing experiences with Hunter were made more difficult by the way my body remained in a state of perpetual arousal.

After my disappointing night with Marco, my body still craved release. Having failed to find satisfaction with Marco or by way of my own clumsy hands, my body remained primed. There was a constant throbbing between my legs that sometimes grew so intense that I could hardly sit without getting turned on by the pressure that sitting put on the area between my legs. Although the feelings would wax and wane throughout the day, when the feelings were at their most intense, I would be overcome with a powerful desire to be touched. I wanted my skin caressed, I wanted hands massaging my breasts, and most of all I wanted something big and hard to slide through the slit between my legs. In those moments, my mind would flood with more fantasies of Mac Kirkland pounding away at me in the locker room like I was Sexy Lexi in my favorite porno.

As horny as I could get, it was difficult to ignore the fact that I had a handsome, virile young man willing to help me find release in the form of Hunter. As much as I loathed him, I couldn’t deny that he looked good. Sometimes just looking at him for too long would be enough to get me wet between my legs. It was embarrassing that someone I despised so much held that kind of power over me.

Considering the history of Kelly’s love life, I also found myself wondering if something was meant to happen between me and Hunter. Throughout her life, Kelly had fallen for several guys that David had resented when he had had encountered them. Randall, Carlos, and Paul. Kelly had fallen for all of them. It made sense that Hunter, one more guy David hadn’t liked, would fit into that pattern. The idea of spreading my legs for Hunter disgusted me, but there was a small part of me that was aroused by the idea. I tried my hardest to ignore that sickening part of me.

Perhaps because I felt so uncomfortable with my femininity at work, I intentionally dressed in a unisex manner, wearing slacks instead of skirts and blouses that fit more like men’s shirts and avoiding heels in favor of flats. I also didn’t bother applying makeup and wore none to work.

Despite my best efforts to look less attractive, Brooke remained an icy bitch toward me. She deployed a relentless barrage of passive-aggressive attacks against me on a daily basis. She also gossiped about me behind my back to the other women in the office. I heard some of the things she said about me, that I slept with a different guy every week, that my breasts were implants, that I had a sugar daddy who paid all my bills, that I carried around the morning after pill with me all the time, and that I had a list of abortion clinics in my purse. It hurt that some of the rumors she spread about me rang true. I was, or had been or could be, promiscuous. I wanted to change that about myself, of course, but the fact that the rumors were partly true made them sting even more. In any event, Brooke and the other girls at work frequently went out to lunch together or hung out after work. I was never invited to any of their outings, and they occasionally made a point of disinviting me.

I was not popular with the girls and too popular with the boys.

As for my job itself, being a secretary was much less demanding work than being a paralegal. The bulk of my job was really just answering phone calls and keeping track of Mr. Baxter’s calendar. Some of my duties were degrading, like grabbing coffee for Mr. Baxter, or picking up his lunch, or getting his dry cleaning, but at least he didn’t flirt with me. Yes, his attitude toward me was patronizing and condescending, but he had been that way toward me as a man, too, so I knew it wasn’t sexism.

My job didn’t make for a lot of demands on my intellect. That was unfortunate because it gave me too much time to think. I would vacillate between feeling depressed at the thought that I would never be a man again to desperately wanting a man to crawl into bed with me so I could scratch the itch between my legs. Not a desirable range of thoughts to occupy my mind.

After work, I would go home, bitch to the girls about my day, and spend the bulk of my time reading the Treatise. I did try a few times to experiment with masturbation again, but it seemed to only make things worse when I couldn’t figure out how to finish the job. I would spend a long time playing with my vagina only to give up in frustration, feeling hornier than before I started.

Tuesday night provided a break in my new routine when I found out that was the night that Ashley and I went to do yoga at a studio a few blocks away from the townhouse. I didn’t feel like trying yoga, but I didn’t want to disappoint Ashley, so I found a pair of yoga pants in my dresser and bit the bullet.

I learned a couple of things from the experience.

First, yoga pants are ridiculously comfortable. Wearing a pair of yoga pants feels like wearing nothing at all.

Secondly, although I had dismissed yoga as a ridiculous exercise no more intensive than some light stretching, it was actually very difficult. Many of the poses were difficult to assume and holding them for any length of time really put a lot of demands on my muscles.

It said a lot that about the physical rigors of yoga that our instructor was a middle-aged woman who was covered from head to toe in muscle that looked as hard as steel. Looking at those toned muscles was the first time since I had been transformed that I found myself attracted to the body of another woman. It went no further than that, though, because when I tried to imagine myself caressing the instructor or kissing her, I found myself disgusted by the notion. I was definitely a heterosexual woman.

Wednesday brought a couple of unexpected surprises. In the morning, I received an email from the clinic I had visited on Saturday that informed me that my tests had all come back negative for any sexually transmitted diseases. That was a relief and put me in a good mood…until I received a text from Marco in the afternoon asking me if I was open to meeting up that night.

My initial reaction was to delete Marco’s text and block his number. I was disturbed to realize that the decision was not an easy one. The area between my legs was hot and moist and had been throbbing for most of the day. The idea of hopping into bed again with Marco was not as repulsive a prospect to my body as it was to my mind. A part of me wanted to feel his manhood inside of me again even as the rational part of my mind wished he would get hit by a truck. It was only by summoning an immense strength of will that I managed to delete Marco’s text without responding.

By Thursday, I had finished the Treatise and wanted to celebrate by going out to watch the football game that night at a sports bar near the townhouse.

I hadn’t learned any amazing revelations from reading through the book. If anything, grasping the fundamentals of magic as outlined by Houdini, or whatever his name was, had only made it clear how hard it would be to become a man again, let alone get back my old life as David Rodriguez. Erica had not been far off when she had referred to the idea as being as complicated as building a nuclear power plant. In point of fact, a physical transformation on par with changing a man into a woman, or vice versa, wasn’t that much different from fission in terms of the knowledge required. Altering reality, as Mort had done, was more like creating a wormhole. But at least in reading the Treatise, I came to understand that these feats were possible.

Chapter Nineteen

When I arrived home, I asked Ashley to go with me to the sports bar.

“What’s with this tomboy phase you’re going through lately?” she asked with a curious look on her face. “You’ve stopped wearing makeup, you strut around in t-shirts and jeans, you put your hair up in a ponytail, and you’re watching sports. Are you planning to have a sex change and become a man?”

“You hit the nail right on the head!” I exclaimed. “And after I grow a dick, the first thing I’m going to do is jam it into your cooch!”

I got behind Ashley and rubbed my pelvis against her rear, which was tough to do because she was taller than me. Her butt was a few inches above my waistline.

Ashley laughed and playfully shoved me away.

“Forget it,” Ashley said with a smile. “I’m sure you can find a plastic surgeon to attach a dick to your body, but you need to be at least this tall to get on this ride.”

Ashley held her hand several inches over her head, interestingly about six feet high, what my height had been as David. I grunted in annoyance. I was never going to get used to being short.

“I’ll remember you said that after my sex change. Right now, the game is about to start. Are you coming with me or are you going to force me to sit alone in a bar full of drunk guys?”

“I guess I’m going to have to go to protect my future boyfriend from getting hit on,” Ashley said.

We drove to the sports bar and parked outside. I was pleased to see several other women in the bar when we walked in, although most of them were obviously accompanying their boyfriends. It made me feel less out of place to see other women present. Ashley and I sat down at a table with a good view of the televisions that hung on the wall behind the counter.

I ordered a pitcher of beer and, as the game began, explained to Ashley, “The Gators are undefeated so far this season and the Ramblers have lost all but two of their games. The Gators are obviously a heavy favorite, but that’s only because most people don’t know a damn thing about football. The Ramblers are probably the only team in the league that can shut down the Gators’ passing game, and the Gators can’t run the ball for shit. My call is that the Gators lose by at least ten points.”

“You’re crazy,” someone at the next table said.

I looked over at the table behind us and saw two men dressed in Gators jerseys sitting there. One of them was a husky guy with coarse brown hair cut close to his scalp who sported a thick beard, the other guy was clean-shaven with thick black hair parted to one side and a couple of locks falling wistfully across his forehead.

The guy with the black hair continued, “The Gators have the best offense in the league. No way they’re dropping a game to the Ramblers.”

I felt a tingling sensation in my nipples and the area between my legs grew warmer as I looked at the black-haired man. He was cute and, although the baggy jersey he wore made it difficult to size up his physique, I could tell from his bulging biceps and broad shoulders that he was in good shape. He had a sexy honey bronze complexion with almond-shaped eyes colored a rich amber hue. He boasted a sharp chin and broad cheekbones that gave his rugged Latin features a cool intensity. As a Latino, I had been particularly attracted to Latinas and it did not surprise me at all that as a Latina I was now drawn to Latinos.

“You’re talking out of your ass,” I said. I didn’t care how cute he was, I was tired of receiving snide comments from men. “You’re only looking at the Gators’ record, if you’d bother to pick apart their performance, you’d realize that they’re a one-trick pony. The Ramblers have exactly the right defense set up to exploit the Gators’ weaknesses. The Ramblers are going to take this one and every coach in the league is going to have the Gators’ number after it’s over. Their undefeated streak ends tonight, and they can kiss the playoffs goodbye.”

The bearded guy laughed and waved a dismissive hand. His buddy, however, said, “How do you figure that?”

I fought down the urge to run my fingers through his thick black hair and instead said, “The Gators’ offense is built around their wide receiver Beyer, and with good reason, he’s fast and there’s hardly a team in the league that can put effective man-to-man coverage on him. But the Ramblers have at least two linebackers that can stay on Beyer in Drucker and Fultz, and their cornerback specializes in covering the sort of routes Beyer usually gets assigned. The Ramblers’ defense is going to put heavy pressure on Beyer and the Gators’ quarterback, that over-the-hill has-been Schuler, is going to have to find other guys to catch the ball, except none of their other receivers can handle man-to-man coverage, either. The Gators coach is going to panic and try to run the ball or rely on screen passes, but the Ramblers’ defensive line is built to stop plays like that cold. The Gators are fucked.”

The black-haired guy looked at his bearded friend with a wide-eyed expression.

“That’s an interesting theory, but I don’t buy it. Even if the Ramblers can put the pressure on Beyer, which I don’t believe for a second, Langley and Turner can pick up the slack. And the Gators’ running back, Cole, he can mow down the whole Ramblers defense all by himself.”

“You’ll see,” I warned him.

Ashley looked at me and asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m trying to figure that out myself these days,” I said with a shrug.

Our pitcher of beer arrived, and I gulped down a glass. Cold beer and football. Life was starting to look a lot better.

On the first play of the game, the Gators ran the ball and managed to gain six yards.

The black-haired man cheered. “You see that? Shutdown their running game my ass.”

On the second play, Beyer ran a crossing route and was under intense coverage the whole way. Unable to find another open player and about to get sacked, Schuler got rid of the ball by throwing it over the sideline. The Gators ran another passing play and Schuler tossed the ball at Beyer even though Fultz was on top of him. Sure enough, Fultz was able to intercept the ball.

As the Ramblers took possession of the ball at the Gators’ thirty-eight-yard line, I laughed gleefully and raised my glass in the direction of the two guys at the table behind us. They looked dismayed.

The Ramblers weren’t able to capitalize on their pick by scoring a touchdown, but they got within easy field goal position and scored. When they kicked the ball to the Gators, the Gators were only able to return the ball to their own eighteen-yard line. Beyer could not get out from under Fultz and Schuler tried to get the ball into the hands of either Langley or Turner, but neither of the other two receivers could make a successful catch with the tight man-to-man coverage they were facing, and the Gators were forced to punt on fourth down. The Ramblers were unable to accomplish much when they were in possession of the ball, but their efforts did persuade the Gators to try and run the ball when they got it back. As I predicted, the Ramblers were able to keep the Gators’ running game contained.

By the end of the first quarter, the Gators were down three to nothing.

I turned to the two guys at the next table and jeered, “What’s the matter? Didn’t see that coming? If only there had been some way of knowing.”

“The game’s just getting started, honey,” the bearded guy said.

“Don’t look so glum over there,” I said. “Some guys just don’t know much about football. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

The black-haired guy smiled and said, “What’s your name? If someone is going to be talking trash to my face all night, I should at least know her name.”

“Fair enough. I’m Kelly and this is my bestie, Ashley. You got a handle, champ?”

The black-haired guy said, “I’m Johnny and this happy camper here is Ian. You want to make this game interesting?”

“I don’t mind taking your money.”

“How’s this sound? If the Gators are behind at half-time, we’ll pick up your tab. If they’re ahead, you cover our tab.”

“Deal.”

Ashley leaned in close to me and whispered, “I hope that bet is the only action you’re interested in tonight.”

“Relax,” I whispered back, “I’m planning to keep my panties on.”

On their next possession, the Gators were able to get great field position on the return. Schuler tried a screen pass. His running back Cole caught the ball and was able to find a gap in the Ramblers’ defense. Cole managed to cover more than thirty yards before getting tackled. That put the Gators within twenty yards of the end zone. On the next play, Schuler pulled off a convincing trick play that fooled the Ramblers into thinking he had passed the ball to Turner. Instead, Schuler held onto the ball and, to my amazement, took it into the end zone himself. The exhausted expression on his face made it clear that he wasn’t likely to pull of something like that again.

Although the Gators took the lead, they held it only briefly. The Ramblers were able to score another field goal and one touchdown in the second quarter. The Ramblers were leading comfortably thirteen to seven by half-time.

“Drink up, Ashley,” I said. “Drinks our on our new friends over there.”

I smiled at Johnny and Ian, who stared into their mugs of beer as if searching for an explanation.

Johnny looked up at me and said, “Double or nothing. You said the Gators will win by at least ten points. If they do, we’ll cover your tab tonight and for Sunday’s game. If they don’t, you cover us tonight and on Sunday.”

Ian chuckled. “That girl can put away her booze, bro. Your wallet is going to be hurting if you take that bet.”

“I don’t see it happening,” Johnny insisted.

Ian shook his head.

“You got it,” I said.

By the end of the third quarter, I was several beers into the game and feeling ballsy and reckless. That was why, with the Ramblers leading sixteen to ten, I stood up, raised my arms over my head, and shouted, “The Gators are going to get swamped tonight!”

Johnny and Ian laughed, Ashley rolled her eyes at me, and several bar patrons booed me. Clearly, I was dealing with sore losers.

“Don’t get cocky, honey,” Ian cautioned me. “If the Ramblers don’t score another touchdown, you’re getting the bill.”

“I’ve got two reasons to expect the Ramblers to pull it off,” I said. I raised both my middle fingers in Ian’s direction. “Here they are.”

“You can be a real bitch when you’re drunk,” Ashley said.

“I can be a real bitch when I’m sober, too. It’s just more fun when I’m drunk.”

By the fourth quarter, the Gators’ offense was in shambles, so there was no need to worry that they would win. Every time they ran the ball, they fell short. They hardly dared to pass the ball since anything more than a short toss to their tight end or a running back nearly always resulted in an interception. Unfortunately, the Ramblers weren’t able to do much with the ball, either. Then with less than two minutes to go in regulation, Schuler was stupid enough to try and pass the ball to Beyer. It was easily picked off by Drucker, who managed to run up the edge of the field and reach the end zone. That made it a pick-six and brought the score to twenty-three to ten after the extra point.

I leapt up and down and shouted, “USA! USA! USA! USA! USA!”

“Someone shut that loudmouthed bitch up!” one woman shrieked in response. Her cry was met with applause. I only laughed.

As dejected Gators fan walked out of the bar with their shoulders slumped and their faces scowling, Johnny and Ian paid our bill.

“I still can’t understand how you saw that coming,” Johnny said.

“I’ve been following the game since I was a kid,” I said. “It’s second nature to me. I was a running back in high school, too. That gave me a better feel for the game even if I couldn’t play worth a damn.”

Johnny laughed.

“Yeah, I doubt you made MVP,” Johnny said.

“Uh…I mean…my, uh, boyfriend was a running back. I picked up the game from him. I watched him play from the sidelines. I was a cheerleader.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t know what kind of player he was, but he must have had a thick skin to put up with your trash-talking mouth.”

“You held up all right under my tongue lashing. Let’s see if you can handle some more this Sunday during the Mustangs-Bandits game.”

“You a fan of the home team?”

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

Johnny and I exchanged numbers and then Ashley drove me home.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were a huge sports fan?” Ashley asked.

“You never gave me a chance. I feel like I’ve only just started to get to know you.”

“No kidding. All this time I thought you were a perky little girly girl and now I’m finding out you’re a dude with boobs and a vagina. I don’t know if I can handle the new manlier you.”

I giggled.

Chapter Twenty

After work on Friday, I drove to Erica’s shop. When I walked inside, she was talking to a man in a green polo shirt and khaki pants who was holding a jar full of a yellow powder.

“All I have to is pour this stuff around the basement and the troll will leave?” the man asked her.

“They hate the stuff and I’ve never known one to stick around after you cover their lair in it,” Erica said.

The man nodded and walked out of the store staring incredulously at the jar as he left.

“All a guy needs to drive out a troll is some yellow powder?” I asked Erica.

“The ground up bones of a leviathan don’t come cheap,” Erica said. “They make for a remarkably effective troll repellent.”

“What’s a leviathan?”

“One of the world’s many hidden horrors. How are you doing, Kelly? Making any headway with the Treatise?”

“I finished it. It raised some questions.”

“That’s quite impressive. There are many practitioners of magic who can’t get through it. If you have questions, perhaps I have answers.”

“The djinn didn’t transform me, he transformed reality.”

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Erica said.

“If djinn make wishes come true by consuming mana, then the manipulation of mana can result in the transformation of reality.”

Erica clapped approvingly. “Very good. That stands to reason, based on everything we know about the properties of mana.”

“Okay. That means that all I need is to find someone who can manipulate mana to alter reality.”

“Now, given what you’ve learned from the Treatise, how likely do you think that is?”

“Not likely,” I admitted.

“But you have another idea, don’t you?”

I nodded. “If I can’t get back to my old life, it’s still possible to transform back into a man, just not the man I used to be.”

“That was what I told you the first time you dropped by, and it appears you understood the Treatise well enough to grasp why that is. There are probably some magicians who can change your sex if you can afford what they charge for such a spell. But if you have the discipline and fortitude for it, you can learn how to perform such magic for yourself.”

“And you’d be willing to teach me, of course, for a price.”

“I can provide you with resources,” Erica said, “show you how to teach yourself. I can make no promises about the final outcome. Your fate is in your hands, Kelly, I can only give you the opportunity to mold it. In the end, what you mold it into will be up to you.”

“What do I have to lose?” I asked with a shrug.

“Many things. Your mind. Your soul. Your life.”

I glowered at Erica. “That was a rhetorical question. Look, I’m desperate. Let’s get the ball rolling with the magic already.”

Erica sold me several books that she assured me would teach me the fundamentals of spellcasting. I got the impression that the books were the magic equivalent of workbooks designed to teach children how to write the letters of the alphabet or something. I was fine with that. I had to learn to walk before I could run.

“There’s something else,” I said after I finished paying for the books. “Ever since I was transformed, I’ve been having these intense dreams when I sleep at night. The djinn said they’re not dreams at all, but memories from my life in this reality. The more dreams I experience, the more different I feel. It’s like…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like I’m changing.”

“That’s typical of the process,” Erica said. “When the djinn placed your consciousness in your new reality, he didn’t displace the original consciousness that inhabited it. It’s still in there and it’s merging with your consciousness. No one can say exactly what the final result will be. As your memories, experiences, and desires combine, usually the process results in the formation of a new consciousness, a mixture of old and new.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed.

“Great. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any creepier, now you’re telling me I’m going to lose my identity.”

“I didn’t say you’re going to lose your identity. It’s possible, but not certain. You may simply see a change in your personality.”

“How will I know where my personality begins and Kelly’s personality ends?”

“That I can’t say. It’s something you’ll need to figure out for yourself.”

“Delightful,” I said. “Speaking of unknowable things, do you know anything about the plane of existence that djinn come from? They don’t exist here with us, right? All we see of them is the astral form they project through the objects they use as gateways into our dimension. What is it like in the world they inhabit?”

Erica laughed.

“Unknowable things, indeed. I can hardly imagine what their world is like. I’ve heard stories, but their world is beyond human comprehension. A sage once told me that the land of the djinn is like an empty desert where the wind blows the sand around, and sometimes the sand blows the wind around. I don’t know what he meant by that, but that sort of gibberish is the way the home of the djinn is usually described. It’s a place devoid of logic.”

“Yeah. I’m experiencing a lot of that lately.”

“I see that you still have the djinn’s ring. You should get rid of it. The djinn is not your friend. People say some djinn are good, and some bad. The truth is the djinn are indifferent. They see humans as a food source, the same way we see cows or chickens. They don’t seek to hurt us any more than you seek to hurt the hamburger you eat, but they only want to use us. After they’re done feeding, they don’t care about the mortals they drain of mana.”

“How about I give the ring to you, and you use it to wish that I were a man again?”

Erica snorted. “What if I introduce you to a vampire and he drains your blood in exchange for turning you into one of the undead? How does that sound to you?”

“Vampires are real, too?”

“I can’t believe how naïve you are to the ways of the world,” Erica said. “I would no more allow a djinn to drain my mana than I would allow a vampire to drain my blood.”

“I’m sure I can find someone who would be willing to make the wish for me.”

“Hmmm. What would you be able to offer someone that would be more appealing than having their wildest wish granted?”

“A friend who cared about me would do it.”

“Remember what I told you before, power corrupts. If you want to test a friend’s loyalty, give that friend the djinn’s ring. Don’t be surprised if your friend’s loyalty is wanting. The djinn’s power got you into this mess, don’t expect that same power to fix anything for you. You’re an intelligent woman, Kelly, have faith in yourself. If you truly wish to be a man again, rely on your own abilities. My advice to you is to toss the djinn’s ring into the ocean and hope you never run into another djinn for as long as you live.”

“I’ve learned enough about magic to realize it could take me years to figure out how to transform myself. The djinn’s power may be my only hope.”

Erica took a step toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Look, I don’t know how to perform transformation spells. I may know some people who do. At least I can ask around. But I would still recommend you try and figure out how to do it yourself. The sort of magic you’re talking about, you can’t trust other people with that sort of spell.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. Trust your instincts instead.”

The bell hanging on the door to Erica’s shop rang as a striking, statuesque blonde woman with extraordinary curves walked in. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders and complimented her bright green eyes. She was wearing a tight burgundy dress that showed off a lot of cleavage and a lot of leg. She did not look a day over thirty.

Erica beamed at the blonde woman and said, “Hello, Chastity, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Maybe I just missed you, Erica,” the woman named Chastity said as she and Erica hugged and kissed one another on the cheek.

“The feeling is mutual,” Erica said.

Chastity looked me up and down in a way that so far only men had done. She smiled warmly and said, “And who is this lovely girl?”

I took a step back, crossed my arms over my chest, and smiled back at Chastity wanly.

“Oh, this is Kelly, a new customer. We were just finishing up here. Kelly, this is, Chastity, a dear old friend of mine. Why don’t you give me your number so I can give you a call if I find that item you’re looking for.”

“Sure.”

I gave Erica my number as Chastity continued to leer at me.

As I walked out of Erica’s shop, I heard Chastity say, “It’s always great to see you, Erica, but I don’t have too much time to catch up, I just drove down from Rich Port to stock up on supplies. I’m hosting the coven this weekend and we’re going to be up to the devil’s work.”

Erica giggled and led Chastity to some shelves toward the back of the store. “You’re in luck, my dear, I just received a shipment of ground up leviathan bones and some dragon scales.”

Chapter Twenty-One

I took the books I had purchased from Erica and drove home to the townhouse, stopping briefly at a liquor store to pick up a six-pack of beer. After dealing with the weirdness of Erica’s shop, I needed a drink, and while the other girls kept the fridge stocked with wine and ingredients for girly cocktails, that wasn’t my cup of tea.

I came home to find Ashley and Becky in the living room watching television. Becky was sitting on the couch with her feet raised on Ashley’s lap as Ashley applied a fresh coat of polish to Becky’s toenails. I placed the six-pack in the fridge and ran upstairs to change out of my work clothes and into a t-shirt, yoga pants, and flip-flops. I left the magic books on my desk and ran back downstairs. After pulling out a bottle of beer from the fridge, I walked over to the living room to join Becky and Ashley. They had a bottle of wine on the coffee table beside two half-empty glasses.

“What are we watching?”

“Becky is watching Girl Fight,” Ashley answered. “I’m too busy repainting the claws on her feet to focus on anything else.”

“Not everyone has the time or money for weekly pedicures, babe,” Becky said.

“Girl Fight?” I repeated as I drank my beer. “Isn’t that the dumb movie where a bunch of girls at an office compete to get the attention of their new boss?”

“Dumb movie?” Becky said. “Bitch, you’ve been wanting to watch this movie for months.”

“Ugh,” I grunted. “I am one basic bitch.”

“You’re just now realizing that?” Ashley asked as she continued applying polish to Becky’s toenails.

I watched the movie. The cast was made up of four of the sexiest actresses in Hollywood, all of whom I had fantasized about as David, but I was far more interested in the actor who played their cute boss. As I watched the movie, I found it totally believable that a group of girls would fight over a guy like that.

“If one of the guys at work looked like that, no power on earth could keep me from crawling into bed with him,” I said.

“I’m sure Hunter would take you up on that offer,” Becky assured me.

“Hard pass,” I said.

Emma soon came home and joined us. All four of us enjoyed the movie. The crazy stunts the girls in the movie pulled on one another as they fought over their boss made us laugh uncontrollably. The ending, in which the boss was fired after getting arrested for paying a prostitute for sex, was also an amusing twist. As funny as the movie was, the jealousy between the girls seemed more interesting. It rang true. I couldn’t help but be reminded of Brooke and was glad that she didn’t go as far as lighting my car on fire like one of the girls in the movie, although I’m sure she fantasized about it.

After finishing the movie, the girls and I decided to make dinner together. We went to the supermarket to pick up ingredients. When we went to pay for our groceries, I noticed that the two guys standing behind us in the checkout line were staring at my ass. Ordinarily, I would simply have ignored them, but I had finished half the six-pack while watching the movie and it made me feel bold.

“I don’t blame you for gawking,” I said. “You guys don’t look like you get to see a lot of ass close up.”

“Don’t act so shocked,” one of them said to me with a smirk. “That’s why they call this the checkout line. We’re just checking out what’s on display.”

Becky looked at the other guy and said, “You let your boyfriend off the leash like that?”

The guy responded with, “Girl, you want to see someone on a leash, I’m all for it. Lay it on me.”

“Good,” Ashley said. “We can walk you down to the vet’s office and get you fixed. You’re not going to be using your balls for anything.”

When we got back home and began laying out the ingredients for the meal we were planning to prepare, Emma asked, “Why do men have to act like such pervs?”

“Men can’t help it,” I said. “When you see a hot girl, the blood flows out of your head and into your dick. It causes a major loss of IQ points. But there’s a difference between thinking with your dick and being fucking rude. I was never like that.”

“Like fuck,” Becky said. “Girl, you think with your pussy. Didn’t you make a date with some guy you met at a bar last night?”

“It’s not a date,” I protested. “We made a bet. He lost fair and square. The fact that he’s hot is a coincidental bonus.”

There was some truth to Ashley’s characterization of me. I had been thinking about Johnny all day and I was looking forward to watching the game with him on Sunday. I chalked it up to the fact that my body was overwhelmed with sexual urges I couldn’t satisfy. Frankly, I didn’t care why I was so excited to see him again. I was just glad to have something to look forward to for once.

I had texted him earlier in the day: “What’s up, bro? You still crying over seeing your Gators swamped last night?”

He had responded: “Trying to get your trash-talking mouth out of my head. No luck. Can’t wait to see YOUR team get schooled Sunday.”

Our little exchange had gotten me hot and wet downstairs at the mere thought of seeing Johnny again. I didn’t want to go through another traumatic experience like the one I had with Marco, but I knew that my body needed release and sooner or later I was going to have to find a way to get it. I didn’t discount the possibility that Johnny might be just the guy to provide me with the release I desperately wanted. He was going to have to work for it, though. I didn’t want to be easy.

“Let me be the judge of whether or not this guy is hot,” Becky said. “Emma and I are crashing your little tailgate party on Sunday. I do not miss out on an opportunity to get wasted when someone else is paying the bill.”

“That seems kind of unfair,” I said. “I love it. He’s got to learn that if you’re going to play, you’ve got to pay.”

I sent Johnny another text telling him that I was bringing two additional girlfriends along on Sunday. He wrote back that he was already going to be filing for bankruptcy and didn’t mind taking on the extra debt. He said he would bring along more friends to make it a party.

“Please don’t pull down your panties for him on Sunday,” Ashley said. “I was so proud of you when you were able to avoid bringing him home last night. I was starting to think you were learning some self-control.”

“Relax,” I said. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“We’ve noticed,” Emma said.

“Yeah,” Becky agreed. “This new butch vibe you’ve got going on kind of came out of nowhere, but I’m digging it. Anything that leads to us scoring free beer works for me.”

I thought it was funny that the girls were teasing me for being more masculine in their eyes. As the days passed, I felt like I was growing more comfortable with my new femininity. I suppose it was subjective. Maybe Erica was right. maybe I was finding a new middle-ground in my new life as Kelly.

The girls and I prepared a tuna casserole. I did most of the work and was surprised by how much better I was getting at cooking. As more of Kelly’s memories came back to me, simple skills like that became sharper. It was a strange but welcome part of my transformation.

We kept joking around and talking over dinner. As usual, I had a great time with the girls. I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last few days without them. The time I spent with them was the silver lining to the stupid wish I had made.

After we finished eating and washed the dishes, I said good night to the girls and went upstairs to my room. I began leafing through the books I had bought from Erica.

“She’s crazy, you know.”

Mort was leaning against the wall beside my desk, his fedora clutched in one hand, a look of disdain on his face.

“What’s crazy is that I’m actually getting used to the weirdness that comes with talking to you,” I said.

“Wise up, doll. When mortals meddle with magic, it changes them. The psychic’s brain is all out of sorts from fiddling with the stuff. The only sensible thing she told you is that power corrupts. You better believe it. You’re lucky you wished to be a beautiful dame instead of for fame or fortune. If money and fame can lead to ruin, imagine what magic power can do.”

“I don’t need to imagine what magic can do, I’m experiencing it. You worried I’m going to listen to Erica and toss the ring in the ocean?”

“Toss me in the deepest ocean, sweetheart. Leave me on the highest mountain. Stow me away on a rocket to the moon. I’ll find someone else eventually. I always do. I’m not worried about me. Look, I’m no saint, but I’ve got a soft spot for mortals. That’s why I’m telling you not to fiddle with magic. And don’t deal with anyone who dabbles in it, either.”

I did not take Mort’s warning lightly. Erica had told me to trust my instincts, and my instincts were telling me to be wary of Erica and magic. Simply ignoring magic wasn’t an option, though. It was too late for that, had been too late for that since I made my wish. If I was going to live in a world where an otherworldly being could change my sex with a snap of his fingers, I had to learn as much about magic as I could, regardless of the dangers that my curiosity posed.

“I appreciate your concern, Mort. Now can you give me some privacy? Or as much privacy as you can give me with this ring on my finger?”

Mort shrugged. “I only offer some free advice.”

Mort disappeared in a flash of smoke.

I spent a few hours reading through one of the magic books before the pulsing sensation between my legs led me to begin losing focus. I closed the book, grabbed my phone, lay in bed with the lights off, and pulled my yoga pants and panties down around my ankles.

I searched online for some Sexy Lexi videos, found one of her doing a gang bang scene on a beach with a bunch of musclebound studs. I had zero interest in watching Sexy Lexi, but the men who passed her around held me spellbound. They were tall with hard, chiseled bodies and massive cocks. Three guys at a time would pound away at her vagina, anus, and mouth simultaneously, pulling out as they approached climax to come on her face. Whenever one guy would pull out of one of her holes, another would slip in to pick up the slack. The big smile spread across Sexy Lexi’s face made it clear she was enjoying every second of it.

I slipped a finger into my vagina and rubbed my clit with my thumb. I continued playing with myself as I watched Sexy Lexi’s video, imagining myself in her place. The idea of being passed around by a group of guys as they took turns ejaculating on my face got me super excited.

I put the phone aside and closed my eyes. I imagined myself naked on my knees, sucking off a naked Mac Kirkland. Then I pictured Johnny sliding his cock into my pussy. To my embarrassment, I then imagined Hunter sticking his dick up my ass. As I envisioned all three of them pumping inside me at the same time, I could feel myself approaching orgasm...but once again I couldn’t quite get there, even when I imagined all three of them coming on my face at the same time.

After half an hour of masturbating, I was soaked in sweat and exhausted. I gave up.

I took a cold shower, got ready for bed, and fell asleep to dream of a life that was becoming mine more and more with each passing day.

Chapter Twenty-Two

On Saturday, I got up early, showered, dressed, and went to a coffee shop to grab a latte and read through one of Erica’s magic books.

After a few hours of pouring through the text, I received a call from Erica.

“Hello,” I answered.

“Good morning, Kelly. I hope you are well. I have…some information I want to share with you. I’ve been debating whether or not to tell you. A part of me thinks this may be dangerous. But I promised I would try to help you.”

“Spit it out, Erica. I’m tired of being jerked around.”

“Very well. You remember the customer who came into my shop right before you left?”

“Yes, Chastity. I’m not likely to forget. She made quite the impression. Not many women ogle me the way she did.”

“Yes, well, Chastity is a…well, let’s just say she is a practitioner of magic, a very skilled practitioner. After you left yesterday, I took the opportunity to ask her if she had any experience with gender transformations. She does, and she may be able to help you. I must, however, caution you. It may not be the sort of help you want.”

“Can she transform me into a man or not?”

“Yes, she can,” Erica said. “She has the power to do that because…because she’s a witch.”

In the last few days, I had learned that, among other things, genies, magic, psychics, unicorns, trolls, and vampires were real. I don’t think I had fully internalized the revelation that all these fantastic things existed, but I was becoming a lot more open-minded about what I was told. That said, the way Erica brough up the fact that Chastity was a witch made me anxious.

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

There was a long pause before Erica said, “I have no prejudice against witches. They have suffered enough persecution throughout the centuries, and I fully support their way of life without casting judgment. Unfortunately, their ways can be…complicated. Remember what I told you about magic practitioners?”

“I remember you saying that a witch with the power to help me might ask me for a human sacrifice in return. That was also when you told me that a demon could help in exchange for my soul. Is that what we’re talking about here?”

“Not necessarily,” Erica said, somewhat unconvincingly. “I can’t tell you with certainty what Chastity may demand from you in exchange for her help, all I can tell you is what I’ve told you before: what you seek will come at a price. You may think you’re ready to pay any price to be a man again, but you may reconsider that when the choice is before you. You would do well to think twice before asking Chastity, or any witch, for help. Now, if none of that has served to dissuade you, I can arrange for you to meet with Chastity to discuss the matter with her.”

I was tired of the cryptic warnings that seemed par for the course when it came to all things magic. That was one big reason why I was so keen on learning more about magic. The best way to overcome my fear of magic was to overcome my ignorance of it.

I told Erica, “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve definitely filled me with apprehension about sitting down to ask a witch for help, but I want to explore my options. Go ahead and arrange for the meeting.”

“Okay,” Erica said. “I’ll let her know and get back to you in a few minutes with the details. I’ve known Chastity for a long time, Kelly. Heed this advice well. Don’t lie to her and don’t be rude. Just do that, and you should be fine.”

It turned out that Chastity lived in Rich Port, a coastal town about an hour’s drive away. She was available to meet with me at noon that same day, so I left right away. Following Erica’s directions, I arrived at a lovely beach house about a mile away from a bustling boardwalk full of townspeople enjoying the sunny weekend weather. I parked my car on the side of a road that ran along the coast and walked toward the beach house.

I knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a stunningly gorgeous blonde girl in her late teens or early twenties who wore a red halter top and a skimpy pair of denim shorts. She was slim but her muscles were toned, and she had perfectly sculpted curves. Her skin was sun kissed and smooth. She was a petite girl with small, delicate hands and feet, but still taller than me at about five feet, two inches tall. Her breasts were her most outstanding feature. They were massive. Looking into the girl’s face, I noticed more than a passing resemblance to Chastity. Perhaps this was Chastity’s sister.

“Yes?” the girl said in a syrupy sweet voice.

“Hello, my name is Kelly Rodriguez, I’m here to see Chastity. Do I have the right house?”

The blonde girl smirked. “I guess that depends on why you’re here. But I’ll let you figure out that part. Come on in.”

The girl opened the door and I cautiously stepped inside, half expecting to walk into a dark room with a boiling cauldron at its center. Instead, I walked into a well-furnished living room.

“My name is Summer,” the girl said as she led me to a sofa beside a window with a panoramic view of the ocean. “Chastity is my aunt.”

My jaw dropped.

“Your aunt? I take it Chastity is a lot younger than your mother. Or would that be your father?”

“Both my parents passed away in an auto accident a few years ago,” Summer said with an air of detachment in her voice.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. And my mother was much younger than Aunt Chastity. I get why you’re surprised. Most people think Aunt Chastity and I are about the same age. She’s actually much older than she appears. Go ahead and have a seat, I’ll go grab my aunt.”

As I sat down on the sofa, a young boy who was about four or five years old came running into the room and shouted, “Mommy! Mommy! Look what I drew!”

The little boy waved a sheet of paper in front of Summer. I could see that something was drawn on the paper in crayon. Summer grabbed the paper out of the boy’s hand, looked it over, and smiled.

“That’s beautiful, baby. I love it. But we have a guest, so be polite and say hello.”

The little boy looked at me with a perplexed expression. I smiled at him and gave him a friendly wave.

“Wow, Mommy,” he said, “she’s just like you.”

With that, the little boy darted out of the room.

Summer looked at me with an awkward smile. “Sorry, my son can be a little forward. Wait just a minute.”

I took the opportunity to admire the beautiful view of the beach. It calmed me down. I had only been there a few minutes and I was already getting a creepy vibe from the place. All of Erica’s dire warnings did nothing to put me at ease.

Chastity walked into the living room wearing a long, flowing lilac-colored gown. Summer followed at her side with a subdued expression on her face.

“Good to see you again, Kelly,” Chastity said with a smile.

She eyed me with the same hungry look she had given me the day before. I could tell she was undressing me in her head. I thought back to what Erica had said about paying a high price for what I wanted. My mind began to fill with all sorts of unnerving ideas about what that might involve based on the way Chastity stared at me.

Chastity took a seat in a lounge chair beside the sofa while Summer stood beside Chastity with her hands folded in front of her, looking down at her feet.

“Can Summer get you anything?” Chastity asked. “Water? Coffee? Tea?”

“Thank you for the offer, but no, I’m all right. I appreciate you taking the time out to see me on such short notice. It’s my understanding that Erica filled you in on my…problem.”

“She explained about your encounter with a djinn,” Chastity said. “You’re not the first person who made a wish and came to regret it.”

Chastity shot a quick glance at Summer and glowered before looking back at me. Summer withered under that damning look from Chastity. Her shoulders slumped and she turned her head away from Chastity.

“A djinn granted you a wish?” I asked.

Chastity shook her head. “No, my mistake was of my own making. But we’re not here to talk about my mistakes. We’re here to talk about the mistake you’re thinking of making.”

“I don’t catch your meaning.”

Chastity leaned toward me and said, “Your problem, Kelly, is not that you made a wish to become a woman. I would wager that your wish resulted in an improvement over what you were like before. No, my dear, your problem is that you want to be a man again.”

I stared blankly at Chastity.

“I think there might be some kind of misunderstanding here.”

Chastity shook her head. “No, I understand all too well. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, gifted young woman, Kelly. Erica told me you read through Houdini’s Treatise in only a few days. Few people could accomplish such a feat, and fewer still could grasp the book’s lessons. From that alone, I can divine that you’re a very special woman.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your praise. From what Erica has told me about you, that means a lot. But I’m only interested in learning about magic so I can figure out if there’s a way to become a man again. Erica told me you might be able to help with that.”

Chastity leaned back and sighed.

“Yes, I can perform physical transformations. You need only examine Summer for a sample of my handiwork. She had the misfortune of being born male. After she came to live with me, I tried to tolerate her…imperfection. Unfortunately, she was quite the misguided youth and I decided to offer her the opportunity for a better life by transforming her into a woman. It was quite the improvement, wasn’t it Summer?”

Summer looked back at Chastity and said, “I didn’t appreciate what you did for me. I could have done better.”

“Indeed,” Chastity said. “My intention was to leave Summer as a woman for a few months and then give her the opportunity to become a man again. What I didn’t expect was that, even as a woman, Summer was able to exercise poor judgment. She slept around with some boys and found herself pregnant. To this day, I’m not sure whether she would have chosen to become a man again absent her condition. But once she was pregnant, there was no way to turn her back into a man without terminating the life growing inside her, so she chose to remain as she is.”

I struggled to find the words. It was hard to figure out the proper response to what Chastity had revealed.

“That’s…that’s quite an interesting…uh…story.”

The look of shame on Summer’s face spoke volumes. I turned from Chastity to Summer to Chastity again. I had no idea what to say. The bizarre revelation about Summer’s past was simply too strange to understand. It raised a lot of questions about Chastity’s ethics and motives. Did Chastity hate men? Was she some sort of sadist? Had Summer’s decision to remain a woman truly been voluntary? Putting all that to the side, as far as I was concerned, Chastity had divulged the most critical piece of information I needed to know. She could turn me back into a man.

“I can transform you back into a man, Kelly. I believe that answers your question. Now I would like an answer to my question. Why would you want to go back to being a man? Certainly, you wanted to be a woman, why else would you have made a wish to be a woman?”

I was about to tell Chastity that I had been drunk when I made my wish, but then I remembered what Erica had said about not lying to Chastity. I had reflected on my decision for a while, and I realized that it wasn’t the alcohol that had led me to make my wish. Sure, that had perhaps given me the courage to make the wish, but it had not been the motivation behind the wish.

“I thought my life would be better as a woman. I’ve thought that for a long time.”

Summer looked at me with curiosity after I said that.

“Why?” asked Chastity.

“As a man…there were some things missing from my life. They were the sort of things I didn’t think I could achieve as a man. Looking back, it always seemed like they were the things that came more easily to women than to men. They were the type of things men sometimes get ridiculed for wanting. Things like…intimacy, affection, warmth. Those were things I never experienced as a man, things I’ve only begun to experience since I’ve been a woman.”

I was surprised to hear myself speak those words, even more surprised to realize how much truth there was in them. I don’t know why I had been so unwilling to admit the truth to myself before.

“And you would give all that up for what?” Chastity asked.

“Because this isn’t who I am,” I answered. “Life as Kelly may be…better, but it’s not my life. It’s a life I’ve taken from someone else. My old life was shittier, but if I stay this way, I’m taking the coward’s way out. I should learn from this experience, go back to my old life, and make the changes I need to get a life like this one. It’s not about changing my sex. It’s about being true to myself.”

Chastity stared at me for a long time before speaking again.

“In exchange for turning you back into a man, you’ll have to bind yourself as my familiar. I don’t have the ability to alter reality. I can’t send you back to whatever reality it is that the djinn pulled you from. I can only change your physical form to resemble the man you once were. You’ll have no past, no identity here as a man. It’ll be no trouble at all for me to create the paperwork to give you a legal existence here. I was able to do the same thing for Summer. I don’t need magic for that, I have significant private resources. But if I turn you into a man, you must become my servant.”

“Your servant? Why?”

“Because I could use one,” Chastity said.

“Is there anything else I could offer you?”

“Hardly,” Chastity said. “I see little benefit to depriving the world of a strong, capable woman and replacing her with a mediocre man. The world is filled with plenty of those. If you are to become a man, I must gain something of value for my troubles. To have one more man in the world would be quite a burden to collective humanity, but if that man were to serve my purposes, that might help to offset the burden.”

“Could I have some time to think about your offer?”

Chastity nodded.

“Certainly. Take all the time you need. It is my sincere hope that you reject my offer and remain as you are. The world could use a woman like you. Summer, please be so kind as to escort our guest out.”

Chastity stood up and walked out of the living room.

Summer waited until she had left before moving. She walked toward the front door and motioned for me to follow.

As we stepped out onto the front porch, Summer said to me, “If you have any brains, you’ll stay a woman.”

I looked at Summer and saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes.

“Are you telling me that because you prefer to be a woman?” I asked her.

“I’m telling you that because a life as Aunt Chastity’s manservant could only be an unimaginable hell,” she said.

Summer turned her back to me and gazed out toward the ocean.

“Are you happy as a woman?” I asked.

Without turning to look at me, Summer said, “If it hadn’t been for the fact that I got pregnant, I probably would have chosen to be turned back into a man. Not because that’s what I really wanted, but because I was a dumb kid, and I was scared. I made a lot of dumb mistakes as a guy. That’s the kind of person I was. I’m glad I got knocked up. I mean, I love my son, he’s my whole world. And life is better as a woman. Aunt Chastity is right about that.”

Summer paused for a minute before continuing.

“In answer to your question, I am happier as a woman, but I’m not happy. How can I be happy when I’m basically Aunt Chastity’s prisoner? I’ve dreamt of running away from her, of taking my son somewhere far away. It’s just not that easy. Life is too complicated to fix my problems by simply running away. I don’t know what your life is like now, but whether you stay a woman or become a man, the one thing I can promise you is that your life will be worse with Aunt Chastity in it.”

That was quite the warning. I had never had someone open up like that to me. I was finding that women had an easier time making themselves vulnerable than men did, and Summer’s words were a perfect example of that.

“There are a lot of things I’m enjoying about being a woman,” I admitted. “I’m just not sure I can handle it. A part of it is…well, the physical aspects of love. I haven’t handled those well as a woman. Sex is different for a woman than it is for a man, in more ways than I had ever imagined.”

Summer surprised me by giggling.

She turned around to look at me, “That’s hardly something to worry about. Sex as a woman is great. It’s honestly the best part of being a woman. Well, second best part after being a mother. That’s the best part of being a woman, motherhood. If you ever have a child, you’ll understand what I mean. But the sex…I will never forget my first orgasm. It was an out of body experience. I can’t compare what it’s like as a woman to what it’s like as a man because I was a virgin when Aunt Chastity transformed me, but sex as a woman is incredible.”

“Wow. Really? I was a virgin, too. As a guy, I mean. I wasn’t a girl for a day before I got my cherry popped. It’s crazy. I go my whole life as a guy never being able to lose my virginity, and it takes me one day to lose it once I become a girl.”

Summer laughed again.

“Me, too. I mean, I didn’t lose my virginity the day after becoming a woman. It actually happened like a week later. But it sure was a lot easier to get that out of the way as a girl than as a guy. One of the perks of being a woman. Now I’m seeing this great guy I met at work. Not only is he great in bed, but when you throw love into the mix, actual love, that makes the sex even better.”

I smiled at Summer. For the first time since I had been transformed, I had met someone who understood what I was going through.

Unable to help myself, I stepped over to Summer and hugged her. She must have felt the same way, because she hugged me back tightly.

“I am so glad I met you,” I said. “I didn’t think anyone else on the planet knew what this was like.”

Summer grinned. “Don’t be so sure about that. You and I aren’t the only girls in the world who started out as boys.”

I gave Summer a nervous glance. “You mean Chastity has done this to other men?”

Summer shook her head. “Not that I know of. I just mean there’s plenty of magic in the world, and this sort of thing isn’t unusual. I’m sure you’ll meet other girls like us, especially if you choose to keep studying magic.”

I exchanged numbers with Summer and told her I would keep in touch. Then I got into my car and began driving home.

It was amazing. I had come to see Chastity to look for some ray of hope. And I had found exactly that, but not from Chastity’s unsettling offer to transform me back into a man in exchange for becoming her servant. I had found hope in meeting Summer, someone who knew exactly what I was going through. And despite the disturbing circumstances that had led to her transformation, Summer was happy with her new life…or at least she seemed like she would be happy if she could find a way to get out from under Chastity’s thumb.

As I drove home, for the first time since Mort had told me that I was stuck as a woman, I was beginning to think things might be looking up for me.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I held Paul’s hand and leaned against his arm as we walked down the hall that led to his dorm room. His shirt was untucked, and his tie hung loose around his neck. I wore a tight-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline. I walked barefoot with my strappy three-inch heels held casually in one hand. While I enjoyed the feel of Paul’s hard, muscular arm, the main reason I leaned against him was to steady myself because I was too drunk to walk in a straight line. It didn’t make much sense to lean on Paul, though, considering that he was just as drunk as I was.

“That party was lame,” I said, slurring my words.

“You asked me to take you, babe.”

“I didn’t think everyone who showed up would be a douchebag.”

“It was a frat party. Only douchebags are allowed.”

I leaned against the wall beside the door to Paul’s room as he fumbled with the lock for several minutes before opening it. Then we stumbled into his room. Thankfully his roommate was nowhere in sight. Probably still at the party. Paul lurched over to his bed and tossed himself on it, lying flat on his back with his legs over the edge of the bed. I tossed my heels on the floor, and exercising great effort to stay on my feet, I removed Paul’s tie from around his neck and hung it from the doorknob outside his room before locking the door. The tie would serve as a word of warning to his roommate.

As I turned back toward Paul lying on the bed, I tripped and fell to the ground.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asked me.

“I’ll live.”

The alcohol had robbed me of my sense of balance. I was not deterred. I got up on all fours and crawled over to Paul. I was hot and wet between my legs, and I needed him. I just hoped he wasn’t too wasted to get it up. He could go down on me if it was that bad, but I really wanted him inside me.

Once I reached the bed, I got up on my knees and reached for Paul’s belt buckle. I quickly got his pants and boxer shorts down around his ankles.

“You want to suck my dick, babe?” he asked in a drunken stupor.

“Always,” I said as I wrapped one of my hands around his cock and gave it a playful squeeze.

Paul had the cutest cock I had ever seen. It was an adorable rosy pink color and plump even when he was soft. I leaned toward his penis and kissed the tip of it, just like I was giving Paul a peck on the cheek. Then I ran my tongue over the head of his penis, swirling it around and around. Paul moaned with pleasure.

I smacked my lips as I savored the salty sweet taste of his cock. It was a great tasting cock. I sucked on it for several minutes, occasionally pausing to cover his cock in kisses from the head of his penis down to his scrotum. I was pleased when Paul’s penis began to swell and rise like a thick, meaty pike stabbing into the air.

Paul’s breathing became faster, and he began making funny squeaking sounds when I licked him in just the right spots.

“You like that, baby?” I asked him.

“You’re a great little cocksucker.”

“I’m your little cocksucker, baby.”

As the noises coming from Paul became more excited, I could feel my pussy getting hotter. The more Paul enjoyed himself, the more I enjoyed myself. Nothing got me off like getting my man off.

I unzipped my dress and pulled it off me. Then I undid my bra and slipped the thong I was wearing down off my legs. I felt so sexy kneeling next to the bed, completely naked, going down on the man I loved.

I was compelled to spoil Paul further by leaning over his crotch and nestling his cock between my tits. He loved titty fucking me and I loved the feel of his big, hard dick between my boobs. I squeezed his cock tightly between my tits. He moaned loudly and rapidly. I could feel fluid leaking out of my pussy and down my inner thighs. I was getting so horny playing with Paul’s cock.

“I want you to come inside me, baby,” I said. “I want you to come inside me hard. Can you do that, baby? Can you fill me up with your cum?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he said with urgency. “Anything, babe, anything. Make me come, babe. I want to come so bad, babe. My cock is throbbing.”

I smiled. I gave the tip of his cock another quick peck. Then I crawled on top of Paul, no easy task given how drunk I was. I almost fell off the bed a couple of times as I tried to mount him. I was able to straddle Paul between my legs, his fat cock slapping haphazardly against my belly button. My pussy was soaking wet and ready for him, but I knew that if I wanted him to burst like a busted fire hydrant, my pussy wasn’t the best tool for the job. And I desperately wanted him to gush semen.

I positioned myself over his cock and lowered my ass onto it. I grabbed his cock with one of my hands and deftly guided it into my anus. I winced as my sphincter stretched to accommodate his member. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out in pain. This was always the worst part. Once he was through the opening, I slowly slid his cock into my rectum. The pain began to fade away as my anus touched the base of his shaft and was replaced by a wonderful sense of fullness.

“Fuck yeah!” Paul shouted. “Your tiny ass feels so good.”

I always enjoyed feeling Paul inside me, wherever it was that he penetrated me. The feeling of his cock in my ass, however, gave me the most intimate sense of pleasure. When he was in my ass, it felt like he filled my entire body. I liked that feeling. It overwhelmed my senses.

My sphincter tightened around his cock. I raised myself slightly then lowered myself again, repeating the motion over and over, speeding it up as I did so. Before long, I was jumping up and down on his cock like a bunny, my tits bouncing wildly around on my chest. He reached up with his hands and grabbed my tits, clutching them tightly as if holding on for dear life.

I tried to ask him if he was enjoying my ass, but I couldn’t form any words. Instead, I let out incoherent shrieks of ecstasy. I was breathing rapidly, like I was sprinting down a track. Thick rivers of sweat began to pour down my face, chest, and back.

For his part, Paul kept screaming, “Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!”

With great effort, I managed to focus just long enough to shout, “Come for me!”

Paul was eager to oblige. I felt Paul’s cock writhe around inside me, slamming against the walls of my rectum as if trying to escape. Then I felt something hot splash against my insides. I could feel him spurting inside me as he grunted in satisfaction at his accomplishment.

I stopped bouncing up and down on his cock. I remained on top of him, grinning happily as I watched the scrunched-up expression on his face relax, the muscles in his face melting into a sloppy smile.

I felt a little depressed as his cock grew soft and slid out of me. That sensation of him shrinking and slinking out of me was always sort of tragic. I loved having Paul inside me and hated to let him go. A few moments later, his semen began to leak out of my anus and run down my legs.

I got off Paul and collapsed in bed beside him. I nuzzled up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders and resting my head on his hard pecs.

“I belong to you,” I whispered to him. “I am yours. I love you.”

Paul snored. I giggled and soon fell asleep.

I woke with a start. The alarm clock told me it was 6:00 a.m. For a moment, I wondered where Paul was. I turned my head to look for him, not understanding how I had left the dorm room where we had fucked.

Then I realized it had only been a dream. Or a memory. Or the memory of a dream. It was all so confusing.

It had been several years since me and Paul had been together. I had graduated from college months ago. Now I was working at a law firm as a secretary. I was living with a group of other girls in a townhouse we were renting. And I wasn’t the girl who had slept with Paul. I was a man who had been transformed into the girl who had slept with Paul.

Over the last several nights, I had experienced intense sex dreams, or rather Kelly’s memories of making love with various men. The girl I had become certainly loved sex. I wasn’t sure I could survive her intense sex drive. I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t get some relief soon.

It was Sunday morning. The day before I had gone to visit the witch Chastity to figure out if she could transform me back into a man. She had said she could if I would agree to be her slave.

But I had also met Summer, someone who had gone through what I was going through. That alone had been worth the trip.

Today was the day that the girls and I would be watching the game down at the sports bar with Johnny and his friends. I was eager to see Johnny, far too eager. I did not want to repeat the fiasco with Marco, and I promised myself that no matter what happened I would not fuck Johnny. Not today.

I wondered whether I could really resist, given how badly my body was aching for the touch of a man. I would find out soon enough.

I got out of bed, used the bathroom, and showered. I dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue and gold Mustangs jersey I had bought at a sporting goods store the day before after my visit with Chastity.

As a man, football jerseys had hung loose on me, practically like a dress. As a woman, the jersey I had purchased was a much tighter fit. The jersey showed off my figure the way a man’s jersey never would. I had tried on some men’s jerseys at the store to capture the fit I was familiar with, but the smallest men’s jersey hung down to my knees and was way too baggy on my tiny frame. I was stuck with the revealing women’s jersey.

I was about to put my hair up in a ponytail, but then I thought about the jokes that the girls had been making about me looking and acting like a tomboy. I didn’t want to come off that way with Johnny just in case it was a turn off for him. I mean, I wasn’t planning to sleep with the guy, but I wanted him to like me. I decided to put my hair up in a pair of unplaited pigtails. It was simple and would keep my hair out of my face, but it also looked playful and girly. That felt like a happy medium.

When I was done getting dressed, I grabbed my phone and called Erica. I wasn’t sure she would take my call so early on a Sunday morning, but after a couple of rings I heard her say, “What happened?”

“And here I thought you might not care.”

“I’ve been on the edge of my seat,” Erica said. “I would have called but I was nervous. From the fact that you’re calling me, I assume Chastity didn’t turn you into a toad.”

“Witches actually do that?”

“The more merciful ones do,” Erica said. “Others engage in far less playful antics when they get upset.”

“There’s hardly anything playful about Chastity. She offered to transform me into a man if I would agree to be her familiar. Isn’t a familiar like a witch’s pet or something?”

“A familiar is a servant who is bound to his master by a spell. Folklore usually depicts familiars as animals who possess magical abilities they use for the benefit of their masters, but familiars are normally people who are under the magical control of their masters. It’s an ancient system of ritual slavery. I caution you in the strongest possible terms not to accept that arrangement.”

“I appreciate the advice, but it didn’t exactly sound like a tempting deal. She has a hatred for men that she doesn’t even try to hide. Chastity had a nephew that she transformed into her niece. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on between them, but Chastity makes her niece’s life miserable. Her niece practically told me that my life would be a living hell as Chastity’s familiar.”

“I’m glad I don’t need to talk you out of accepting Chastity’s offer. You have other options. Better options.”

“Thanks for trying to help, Erica. Chastity may not have provided me with the solution I wanted, but I was at least glad to meet her niece. It feels better to know I’m not the only person in the world going through something like this.”

“You’re not alone, Kelly. Please don’t forget that.”

I said goodbye to Erica and hung up the phone.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Touchdown!” I squealed excitedly as I threw my arms up in the air.

Beside me, Johnny smiled and shook his head. The Mustangs had just scored their third touchdown of the game while the Bandits had only managed a single field goal. The Mustangs’ touchdown was rewarding enough but seeing the cute dimples on Johnny’s face when he smiled was even better. I could scarcely take my eyes off the man.

“Why doesn’t the other team have one of their guys run to the other end of the field and then throw him the ball?” Becky said as she drank from her beer and grabbed another hot wing out of the large tray sitting in the middle of the table. “They’re never going to score if they keep throwing the ball to a guy who is just standing in the middle of the field.”

My roommates and I sat at a table in the sports bar with Johnny, Ian, and two of their friends. Ray was a so-so looking guy with close-cropped black hair and Quinn was cute and fair-skinned, but wore a goofy smile on his face. Like Johnny and Ian, Ray and Quinn were physically imposing. I began to wonder if Johnny and his buddies were construction workers or had spent time in prison. They were friendly enough so maybe they just enjoyed working out at the gym.

“Excellent insight, Becky,” I said sarcastically. “You missed your calling as a football coach.”

“And why don’t any of the players who catch the ball ever toss it to someone else before they get knocked down?” Emma asked. “There are like ten other guys out there who can take the ball.”

“Throwing a lateral pass to a teammate when you’ve got multiple defenders on your ass is tough to do,” Ian said. “There’s also the risk of accidentally throwing an illegal forward pass. And making a throw to the end zone isn’t easy when the team in possession usually starts out from near their own twenty-five-yard line. You’re asking a lot from your quarterback and receiver.”

“This game has too many rules,” Emma complained.

“I’d say girls don’t know anything about football,” Ian said, “but Kelly already proved me wrong.”

“Yeah, well, Kelly was a dude in a former life,” Becky said as she took another drink from her beer.

“It’s true,” I said. “I miss being able to pee standing up.”

Johnny laughed. “It is the best part of being a guy.”

During the half-time break, a reporter on the sidelines interviewed Mac Kirkland.

“Okay,” Becky said, “now I see the appeal of this game. That boy is beautiful.”

“I might just start following football,” Emma said as she leered at Mac.

“I told you he was easy on the eyes,” Ashley added.

“That’s why I wish I played in the NFL,” Ray said. “Those bros have to beat the women off with a stick.”

“You don’t need to play in the NFL for that,” Quinn said with his goofy grin. “The girls were all over us when I played football in high school. Nothing says alpha male like playing football. Women can’t resist a man who tosses the pigskin.”

“As if,” Becky said. “The football players at my high school were a bunch of sweaty gorillas. If they’d looked anything like that guy, then I’d have been all over them.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said. “The football guys at my school were ripped. They had that going for them. But some of them were ugly as fuck.”

“The idea that every girl drops her panties for a football player is bullshit,” I said. “When I played…I mean, when my boyfriend played football, no girls gave him the time of day.”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, “but he got you, didn’t he? You’re hot. That totally proves my point.”

Johnny smacked Quinn on the back of the head. “Don’t be rude, asshole.”

Quinn put his hands up apologetically. “Sorry, no disrespect. But I mean, you’re a pretty girl and you went for a football player. You see what I mean?”

Johnny glared at him.

I said, “Yeah…but, I mean…there was this guy on the team, six feet tall, nice looking, nothing wrong with him. Maybe he kept to himself a little. That guy graduated from high school a virgin.”

“He was probably gay,” Ray opined.

“Yeah,” Quinn said. “If a guy plays football in high school and can’t get laid, he’s probably not interested in girls.”

Johnny nodded. “The knuckleheads are being crass about it, but I’d have to agree. Even the fattest lineman on our team had girls all over him. Granted, not every girl in school went for football players, as your friends point out, but, yeah, I’d say most football players have their pick of girls. If a guy plays football and doesn’t get a girl, it’s probably because he isn’t interested.”

I could feel my face reddening. More than a few people in high school had called me gay because I wasn’t able to get a girl. Johnny and his buddies were basically doing the same thing now.

“I wasn’t…I mean, he wasn’t gay,” I said feeling irked. “Just because he couldn’t get with a girl doesn’t mean he was gay.”

“Take it easy,” Johnny said. “No one is making any insinuations about your high school friend. Sometimes a guy can be cool and good-looking and maybe he just doesn’t have a lot of skill with women. There were guys like that in my school, too.”

I drank my beer and tried to relax. They weren’t calling me gay, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset.

The more I thought about it, maybe Johnny and his friends had a point. I mean, four years after high school, I now had breasts and a vagina and I was wearing pigtails, sitting next to a man I was practically swooning over. I was also fighting powerful urges to get him into bed. Now that I was a woman, the idea of sex with a man was extremely appealing. Maybe the reason that, as David, I had been a virgin at twenty-two was because I wasn’t really interested in girls.

“No,” Becky said. “A guy who can’t lose his virginity is either gay or a loser. There’s no other explanation for something like that.”

Right then, I felt like punching Becky in the nose.

“Imagine losing your virginity to that girl,” Ian said.

The camera crew was filming scenes of the owner’s box again. Sexy Lexi stood next to her husband Ethan, a vacant expression on her beautiful face. Her husband patted her ass and pulled her close to him. She forced a smile to her face.

“Who’s that?” Quinn asked, his jaw practically falling to the floor.

“You’ve never heard of Lexi Zuckerman?” Becky asked incredulously. “She’s the most famous porn star in the world. Her husband is one of the richest men alive. How can you not know Sexy Lexi?”

“You must have been living under a rock,” I told Quinn. “I watch her videos all the time. I didn’t know it was possible to be a man and not know who Sexy Lexi is.”

Johnny had been in the middle of drinking his beer when I spoke. He started coughing and spit up some of his beer.

“Sorry,” Johnny said. “You watch porn?”

Before I could say anything, Becky said, “Is that really so shocking for guys? Yes, girls watch porn. Girls like sex. I swear, every guy acts like it’s some mind-blowing revelation when they find out that girls watch porn. Come on, girls star in porn all the time, why is it so shocking that we watch porn, too?”

“Hey, I’m all for girls watching porn,” Ian said. “If you ever want to get together at my place and have a viewing party, I’m down.”

Everybody got a good laugh out of that comment.

“In your dreams,” Emma said.

“I hope so,” Ian said.

Half-time ended and the game continued. It was a slaughter, with the final score coming out to thirty-eight to nine in favor of the Mustangs.

“In your face!” I said to Johnny. “My boys are going all the way to the championship this year!”

“Yay!” Becky cried. “The game’s over, now we can focus on drinking.”

“Drink up,” Ashley said. “Kelly’s new friend is picking up the bill.”

“Aww,” I moaned playfully as I patted Johnny’s back with one hand and squeezed his thigh under the table with my other hand. “Poor baby. I feel bad taking advantage of a boy who doesn’t know anything about football. Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you dinner tonight.”

“Really?” Johnny asked with a cute smile.

“Yes. It’s the least I can do for a guy who has gotten me drunker than I’ve been since college.”

“If you’re serious, it’s almost dinner time now,” Johnny said. “There’s a great Mexican restaurant a few blocks away. We can walk there.”

“You’re taking Kelly to a Mexican restaurant?” Becky said. “Isn’t the two of you going to a Mexican restaurant like someone from China eating Chinese food?”

“I eat Chinese food all the time, dumbass,” Emma said.

“Yeah, but you’re Chinese, you’re not actually from China,” Becky said. “Besides, Johnny has to stay here and keep paying for our booze.”

“Let them go,” Ian said. “I’ll keep paying for your booze until your liver gives out.”

Becky raised her glass toward Ian with a smile on her face. “Much appreciated, handsome.”

“Cool,” Johnny said. “I’ll close out the tab and Kelly and I can get going.”

As Johnny took care of the bill for the afternoon’s festivities, Ashley leaned over to me and said, “Please don’t go to bed with him. I think he likes you, but if you fuck him, it’s probably the last you’ll hear from him.”

“Don’t worry, mom, I’ll keep my legs closed,” I said.

Ashley grinned. “Good luck with that.”

As we walked down the street, I looked up at Johnny. He was about as tall as I had been as David, and I had to crane my neck to look up at his face. I was surprised by how aroused I was by his height. If every girl felt this way around a tall man, I really had something going for me as David.

Johnny looked down at me and said, “You’re not like other girls.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. It’s refreshing to meet a girl who isn’t dying to see the latest romantic-comedy.”

“I’ve recently started getting into rom-coms,” I said, thinking back to my recent experience with Girl Fight. It wasn’t technically a rom-com, but it was definitely a chick flick.

Johnny shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, we arrived at a non-descript Mexican restaurant called Doña Fortuna’s. We asked the hostess for a table, and she sat us near the bar. There was a television on the wall behind me and another on the wall behind Johnny. One television was showing a baseball game while the other was showing the news. It must have been early because the place was practically empty.

Our waitress soon showed up to take our drink order. Johnny’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of our waitress. My eyes probably did, too. She was a beautiful Latina, with dark hair and a skin tone possibly a shade lighter than mine. Like the hostess and the other waitresses in the restaurant, she wore a traditional white Mexican dress with red and green stripes running horizontally across her skirt. The neckline was modest but did nothing to hide her impressive breasts. While her skirt hung loose down to her knees, the shape of her curvy hips and plump ass were still in evidence. I gauged that her height was about the same as mine. Her face was something to behold. Maybe I was cute, but this girl was absolutely gorgeous.

In a sexy Spanish accent, the waitress said, “Buenas tardes, my name is Dulce and I’ll be your waitress. Would you care for a drink?”

I ordered a margarita and Johnny ordered a beer.

After the waitress left, I looked at Johnny and said, “You want to pick your tongue up off the floor?”

Johnny smiled. “I noticed your expression when you saw her, too.”

I smiled back. “She could be a model or an actress. Why is she doing a dead-end job like this?”

“Some people never catch their lucky break. What do you do to pay the bills? With your looks, model or actress isn’t off the table for you.”

“Me?” I asked, taken aback. “Yeah, I guess I am super hot for a dwarf. I’m sure there are websites that cater to fans of tiny girls. No, I’m not a model. I’m a cliché, actually, a college-educated girl working as a secretary. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m an engineer for an oil company,” he said. “I help design refineries.”

“Sounds sexy.”

“I bet.”

“I wanted to be an engineer when I was in college,” I said.

“Really? What happened?”

I shrugged. “I was too stupid to do math.”

“Come on. I know that’s not true. You’re obviously a very intelligent woman.”

“True. I started out with a major in engineering. My minor in partying got in the way.”

Something over my shoulder caught Johnny’s attention and he said, “Oh, hey, look at this clown.”

I turned around and looked at the television hanging on the wall behind me. A handsome middle-aged man in an expensive suit was holding a press conference.

“Isn’t that Alfred Stryker?” I asked.

“That’s the guy. He’s the senator who spent years running on a platform of deporting illegal immigrants. Then a few months ago, he completely changed his position. Now he’s proposing all these bills to help immigrants.”

“I don’t buy it,” I said. “Tigers don’t change their stripes. Whatever his politics, he’ll always be an asshole.”

Our waitress, Dulce, arrived as Johnny and I were talking about Stryker. As she set our drinks on the table, Dulce looked at Stryker on the television and said, “People can surprise you sometimes, señorita. They can change in all sorts of ways.”

I studied Dulce carefully. Maybe her career prospects were limited by her immigration status. I knew better than to ask.

“I guess she has strong opinions on the subject,” Johnny said after Dulce took our meal order and left.

“What about you, Johnny? What do you have strong opinions about?”

“I have a strong opinion about you.”

“Good or bad?”

“Yes,” he said.

I giggled.

“My opinion is that I’d like to see you again,” he continued.

“Okay. But can we try something that doesn’t involve big sweaty men pushing themselves to the point of exhaustion?”

“You’re tired of watching football with me?”

“I was referring to your friends trying to handle my roommates,” I said.

Johnny laughed. “I was sort of picturing something involving just the two of us.”

I grinned. “Oh, that sounds enticing.”

“The fair is in town. Would you be interested in checking it out next Saturday? Or does that sound a little too childish for a mature, sophisticated woman like yourself?”

“After watching a game with me, I would think you would realize that nothing is too childish for me.”

“That’s what I figured.”

After dinner, Johnny and I walked back to the bar where his car, a luxury SUV, was still parked, and he gave me a ride home.

Johnny stopped his car in front of the townhouse and said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”

“That’s supposed to be my line, Romeo,” I said with a smile.

I stared into his warm, inviting eyes for a moment, then leaned in and kissed his lips. The feel of his tender lips against mine sent tingles throughout my body.

I leaned back and stared at him again. “Something to think about until I see you again.”

Then I stepped out of the car and walked to my front door, all the while feeling like I was floating on air.

Chapter Twenty-Five

For a wonder, the next few days were devoid of any curveballs. I would get up early for my morning run. Then it was off to work where I would try to survive Brooke’s mean girl antics and avoid Hunter’s predatory moves, all the while making sure Mr. Baxter always had a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. In the evenings, I would hang out with the girls and read the magic books I bought from Erica. These routine activities would be punctuated by texts I exchanged with Johnny, which always gave me a pleasant thrill, and calls with Summer, which were pleasant in a different way.

I made quick work of Erica’s books, and what I gleaned from them made me doubly glad I had not taken Chastity up on her offer. Binding spells, the sort of spells witches used with their familiars, were a disturbing component of the dark arts, the magical equivalent of chains and handcuffs. I didn’t intend to give anyone that kind of power over me. Besides, the more I learned about physical transformation spells, the more I began to think that I could master them.

When I finished Erica’s books, I decided that before I went to see her again to get more, I would cleanse my mental palate by reading something a little lighter. I grabbed one of the romance novels off my shelf and read through it in a single evening. It was called Virgin Love, it was about a young woman named Evelyn who was so focused on getting good grades in school that she graduated from college a virgin, never even making time for a boyfriend. After she graduates, she gets her dream job in the marketing department of a women’s fashion design company. She does great there and is quickly promoted. Before she knows it, she’s twenty-five and still a virgin. As Evelyn begins to accept her spinster lifestyle and focus more on her career, she meets Lionel, a chronically unemployed actor, at a friend’s party. He’s a slacker who dropped out of college and gets by on his charm and carefree attitude. They immediately fall for one another. Despite her best efforts to cut the guy out of her life, Evelyn grows enamored of Lionel and loses her virginity to him. Their relationship blossoms. He shows her how to relax and have fun, she shows him how to set goals and work to achieve them. At the end, she’s offered a position with much higher pay at a company across the country but turns it down to stay with her lover. For his part, Lionel’s newfound focus lands him a lead role on a successful television series. And they live happily ever after.

The plot was bland and predictable, but the way the author captured Evelyn’s feelings grabbed my attention. I was able to empathize with her and the feelings that came with meeting someone who got your heart fluttering, the feeling of waiting anxiously to see someone you’re crazy about. The sex scenes also moved me in a way that adult movies didn’t. The way the author described how making love to Lionel made Evelyn feel got my juices flowing. For all his faults, Lionel was quite sensitive and caring, always putting her first. The author captured the way I wanted a man to feel about me perfectly.

When I was done reading the romance novel, I played with myself again. Something different happened this time. As I imagined myself in Evelyn’s place, a loving man making tender love to me, I became excited in a way that I had never experienced before. My excitement grew and grew as I continued to stroke my womanhood. Eventually I felt muscles inside me contract and spasm, and I felt spent. I couldn’t say for sure that I had experienced an orgasm, but it was the most satisfying physical experience I had yet enjoyed as a woman.

I suppose that men rely more on visual stimulation when it comes to sex and women rely more on mental stimulation. In any event, I began reading through my collection of romance novels after that experience.

One morning as I was getting dressed for work, I was unable to find a pair of pants in my wardrobe. It looked like I had gone through all of them and had to do laundry. I didn’t have time to do a load of laundry, so instead I quickly shaved my legs and wore a skirt to work instead. I had plenty of those. I found that skirts were way more comfortable than pants and I started wearing them to work regularly.

Perhaps as a result of my wardrobe change, I had another less pleasant experience during the week after my dinner with Johnny. Hunter continued to pester me at work, this time demanding that I have lunch with him. He badgered me like this for days until I finally relented and agreed to go with him.

We went to the nearby diner where those construction workers had made vulgar remarks about me. Hunter was a perfect ass. He spent the whole time talking about himself and how great he was, how much he was paid, the kind of car he drove, and how many women sought out his company. He didn’t bother to ask me anything about myself. He complimented my looks, of course, and gave me all sorts of unsolicited advice about how I could enhance my appearance. He was considerate enough to advise me that I didn’t need breast implants because my breasts were already huge.

When he mentioned that he was taking evening classes at a local law school, that reminded me that I had to prepare my own applications to law school. That had been my plan as David, and I saw no reason to change that now. Granted, my position as a secretary probably wouldn’t prepare me for law school as well as David’s position as a paralegal would have, but it wouldn’t preclude me from applying.

Brooke, being the bitch that she was, gave me a hard time about spending time with Hunter.

“I heard you ‘had lunch’ with Hunter,” Brooke told me in our shared office as she leaned over my desk and glared at me. She stressed the words ‘had lunch’ and made them sound salacious, as if the phrase were referring to a tawdry sex act prohibited in multiple states. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? I figured it was only a matter of time before you began to target the men in the office for your escapades. Most people have sense enough not to shit where they eat, but I guess not everyone has enough self-control for that.”

“Gross,” I said to Brooke. “Don’t make it sound like we hooked up in some seedy motel or something. He kept bugging me to have lunch with him. It was the only way I could shut him up. I didn’t want to go, and it was even more unpleasant than this conversation, if you can believe that.”

“Sure,” Brooke said. “Whatever you say. I’m sure you’re chaste as a nun in a convent. Who could doubt it? Just make sure that you don’t ‘have lunch’ with any men in the office who are spoken for. If I ever hear that you’re doing anything inappropriate with Henry, I will claw your eyes out. Do you hear me?”

“Brooke, why do you hate me so much? You act as if I’m some kind of whore because the men in the office are way too friendly with me. I don’t invite their attention and if there was some way of stopping it, I totally would.”

“Please, spare me the innocent virgin routine. I know the kind of girl you are, Kelly. You coast through life thinking that you can get anything you want by flaunting your big fake tits around. The little modesty act you’ve been pulling for the past couple of weeks, dressing down and not wearing makeup, that isn’t fooling anyone. Have some self-respect and try to get ahead by using your brains instead of your body.”

“My boobs are not fake,” I protested as Brooke walked away from my desk.

That was probably not the most sophisticated response to her scathing rebuke, but it was what came out of my mouth. I didn’t understand why women had to tear each other down like that. Life was hard enough with men treating us like pieces of meat, we didn’t need to treat one another like punching bags.

Feeling like shit after Brooke’s latest attack on me, I made some time to have dinner with Summer. I needed a reminder that not every woman in the world instantly resented me.

Summer and I were very different people, but our common experience brought us close together. She worked as a waitress and had met her boyfriend Teddy, a trucker, when he dropped in to eat there. She felt that they were getting serious and was happy about that. But she was afraid of moving too fast for the sake of her son. The three of them had gone out a couple of times, and Teddy seemed to get along with her son all right. She just wanted to be sure that Teddy was ready to take on the responsibility that came with being a father figure.

While she was glad that I had declined Chastity’s offer to transform me into a man, Summer cautioned me about my decision to learn magic. She felt that studying magic could have a negative influence on a person. She had witnessed Chastity teach magic to other young women and had seen it affect them firsthand. She suspected that magic was part of the reason that Chastity was so cold toward her.

I took Summer’s words to heart as I visited Erica at her shop one day after work to purchase more books. I told Erica that I was confident enough with my knowledge of magic to begin casting some simple spells. She felt I was pushing myself too far too quickly but nevertheless provided me with some books that would help teach me to cast spells.

I was getting ahead, if not always as smoothly as I would have liked.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Saturday, the day I had been longing for, finally arrived. I had been thinking about my date with Johnny all week. I wanted to look good for him.

I put aside my signature look of a t-shirt with jeans. Instead, I wore a baby pink fitted camisole crop top with a scoop neckline and a short denim skirt with a pair of cowboy boots. I didn’t wear a bra with the camisole and my nipples poked out like a pair of pitcher’s mounds. I was showing off a broad expanse of cleavage along with my flat tummy and belly button in the skimpy camisole. I knew I was revealing a lot of skin with my chosen outfit, and it would invite a lot of men to sneak glances at me. But they would stare at me regardless of what I wore, and I wanted to invite Johnny to look my body over all he wanted. I didn’t want to sleep with him yet, but I wanted to give him a preview of what was coming his way if he played his cards right.

I decided to wear my hair down, no ponytail or pigtails. To that end, I had carefully brushed my hair when I blow-dried it after taking a shower. My hair had plenty of natural volume along with a pleasant sheen to it, and I didn’t have to do much to style it. Several locks of my hair periodically fell down my forehead and over my eyes, but I patiently swept them back behind my ear whenever they did.

I took another big step out of my comfort zone. I put on makeup. I had enough of Kelly’s memories that I now knew how to apply it. I cleansed and moisturized my skin, applied primer, then added foundation and concealer. After carefully contouring my face to give it some depth, I added some bronzer, although the shade I picked was a tad too dark for my complexion. Finally, I applied some eyeliner, eyeshadow, lip liner, and lipstick. When I was done, I barely recognized my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a sultry runway model. I was pleased with the fruits of my labor.

When I opened the front door after Johnny rang the doorbell around 10:00 a.m., the look on his face told me he was pleased, too.

“Kelly? Is that you?”

“In the flesh,” I said. “Were you expecting someone else?”

The adorable dimples on Johnny’s face as he smiled made my extra effort worthwhile. His eyes dropped down to my feet, worked their way up my legs and exposed tummy, lingered for a few seconds on my generous cleavage and exhibitionist nipples, then moved up my neck and came to rest on my face. I loved the feel of his eyes moving over my body, taking it in and appreciating it. I would have loved it even more if he would have used his hands to explore my body rather than his eyes.

“I hardly recognized you,” Johnny said. “You look drop-dead gorgeous.”

I wanted to tell him that I had done it all for him, that this look was for his enjoyment. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him to want me.

Instead, I said, “Oh really? You mean I look like crap the rest of the time?”

“No, of course not. You always look good. Now you look even better.”

I feigned indignation as I said, “Is that all you care about? My looks?”

“No,” he said, a trace of worry in his voice. Then he smiled again. “Will you cut that out, Kelly? I think you’ve busted my balls enough the last couple of times we hung out. Just take the compliment.”

The thought of his balls distracted me for a moment. I was very curious about what he was packing downstairs.

With great resolve, I pushed aside thoughts of Johnny’s manhood and said, “Sorry. I wanted to see if I could get you a little tongue tied. You know I’m a playful girl.”

“Playful? That’s not the word I would use.”

“Don’t tell me what word you would use. I want us to be friends. Okay, if I can’t get you tongue tied, let’s see if I can’t find another use for your tongue.”

He smirked. “What were you thinking?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was referring to stimulating conversation.”

“Sure you were.”

I gave Johnny a coy smile and winked to let him know he had read me right. I was sure he could use his tongue for something more stimulating than conversation.

We got in his SUV and drove to the fairgrounds. Along the way, we talked and teased one another. We discussed a wide range of topics. Sports, politics, movies, books, our jobs.

I was thrilled to learn that he had not only read As Among the Stars but that it was one of his favorite novels. As Among the Stars was a science-fiction story about scientists developing the technology to effectively grant people eternal youth and make them immortal. The novel explored how the technology affected a group of characters over hundreds of years and focused on the challenging ethical and moral dilemmas such technology would create.

“I had no problem with Caliban helping Professor Hauser euthanize himself,” I said to Johnny.

“Caliban basically murdered Professor Hauser. How can you be okay with that?”

“Professor Hauser was in agonizing pain. That virus he contracted was destroying his body, but the immortality treatment kept him from dying. What Caliban did was an act of mercy.”

“You think it’s okay for people to commit suicide?”

“Absolutely,” I insisted. “Life can be filled with unbearable pain. You should always have the option to punch out if things get too hairy.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Johnny said.

That was what I liked most about Johnny, he was more than just a pretty face. He stimulated my intellect. And unlike almost every other man I had met since becoming a woman, he valued my thoughts and opinions. To Johnny, I wasn’t just a pair of tits. I was a person with a mind full of views worth discovering and exploring.

The parking at the fairgrounds was packed and the line at the ticket booth stretched a long way. As we waited in line to buy our tickets, I noticed several men checking me out. The ones with girlfriends and wives had to be careful about sneaking glances at my body to avoid getting caught by their women, but the ones who were there with friends were shameless in looking me over and pointing me out to their pals.

I held Johnny’s hand and leaned against him.

“Feeling affectionate, are we?” Johnny said.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said. “There are a bunch of pervs leering at me and I need them all to know that I’m here with a big, strong man who will kick their ass if they come near me. Since I don’t have a man like that here with me, I’m going to have to rely on you instead.”

“I’ll try to look tough.”

We got our tickets and entered the fair. The large crowds were initially intimidating, especially with my body gratuitously on display. At first, I felt as scared as I had felt that first night at the mall when I realized my nipples were showing through my shirt. A lot more than my nipples were showing now. But with Johnny by my side, I began to feel more comfortable. After a few minutes, I even began to enjoy the attention I was getting. The looks of carnal desire the men were giving me and the envious stares women were sending my way became flattering. I began to feel the way I felt when I went for my morning runs in my skintight shorts and revealing sports bra, I felt young, athletic, and sexy, feminine in the best way possible. I was proud to be a beautiful woman. It was exactly the feeling I had wanted to experience when I made my wish.

I could tell that Johnny also felt good about having me on his arm and showing me off to the world. Johnny was plenty hot in his own right but seeing me on his arm put people on notice about exactly how hot he was. He could score the kind of girl most men only fantasized about. He carried himself a little taller and projected a lot more confidence.

As those thoughts ran through my head, I realized how conceited I was becoming. I began to worry that maybe there was more truth to Brooke’s criticisms about me than I was willing to admit. I decided to make a concerted effort to try and be a little more modest in the way I viewed myself.

Johnny led us past several booths with carnival games. I pointed to one booth covered in large stuffed animals.

“Win me that giant stuffed gorilla,” I said.

“Why should I win you anything?”

“Because you’re a man at a carnival and you are morally obligated to win your girl a prize.”

“You’re my girl? Since when?”

“If you win me that gorilla, I will be.”

“Is that a promise?” Johnny asked.

I tilted my head to the side, smiled suggestively, and wagged my eyebrows at him.

Johnny stepped over to the booth and paid the attendant. There was a stand about thirty feet from the counter where the attendant stood with several milk bottle stacked on top of one another. The goal was to knock them down with a ball. After getting paid, the attendant handed Johnny three balls.

“This one’s for you,” Johnny said to me before throwing the first ball.

He threw the ball, and it flew past the stack of milk bottles he had been aiming for.

“Strike one,” I said.

He frowned at me before throwing the second ball. The second ball he threw sailed several feet over the milk bottles.

“Strike two,” I said.

The third ball he threw bounced off the side of the booth and fell to the ground well short of the milk bottles.

“Strike three,” I said. “You’re out, mister.”

I gave him a soft shove and said, “I guess you don’t really like me.”

“Well, I’m not feeling crazy about you just now.”

I reached into my purse, grabbed a few dollars, and handed them to the attendant. He handed me three balls. I handed two of the balls back to the attendant and said, “I’m only going to need one.”

Johnny and the attendant both laughed.

I assumed a starting pitch position on one leg, and after a generous wind-up I flung the ball at the milk bottles. The ball hit the mark dead center and all of the bottles crashed to the ground. I told the attendant to hand me the giant stuffed gorilla.

As I handed the gorilla to Johnny, I said, “See, I like you enough to win you something.”

“How did you do that?” Johnny asked as he took the gorilla.

“I played ball in high school,” I explained. “I had a wicked slider. If I could have moved my fastball faster than eighty miles per hour, I might have had a shot at the pros.”

“I’m sure there were a lot of professional teams eager to swoop you up,” he said. He looked at the stuffed gorilla. “I’m supposed to carry this around all day.”

“Yes. It’s yours.”

“You were the one who wanted the gorilla.”

“Yeah, but I have my big gorilla right here,” I said as I wrapped my arms around Johnny and kissed his cheek.

With the stuffed gorilla accompanying us, we got on several of the rides, watched the pig races, visited the petting zoo, caught a magic show, and watched professional stunt men perform tricks on dirt bikes. We took a break to eat some of the unhealthy fair food, including foot long hot dogs, cotton candy, funnel cake, and a turkey leg we shared.

Toward evening, a cover band held a concert on a stage set up in the middle of the fair and played popular rock and roll hits. We decided to watch and found a spot near the stage.

Several members of the crowd stepped into an open area right in front of the stage and danced to the music. Benefitting from memories of some dance choreography Kelly had picked up while a cheerleader, I now knew how to dance considerably better than I had that first night I had gone out with the girls. Armed with my new dance skills, I stepped out onto the dance floor, raised my arms over my head, and rocked my hips and moved my feet to the beat.

The crowd was very impressed by my dance moves and cheered me on. The audience’s applause was peppered with several lewd catcalls. I didn’t care about any of that. I was performing for an audience of one. The stupid grin plastered on Johnny’s face as he watched me dance was all the encouragement I needed.

Night fell and I begged Johnny to take me for a ride on the Ferris wheel before we left. As Johnny, the stuffed gorilla, and I gradually ascended to the top of the wheel, I clutched his arm tightly and nestled my face against his shoulder.

“I’m terrified of heights,” I admitted to him.

“Then why did you want to ride this thing?” he asked.

I raised my head, looked up to his face, and stared into his eyes.

“Because I thought the incredible view we have from up here would make a romantic backdrop for this.”

I raised myself up out of my seat and kissed him. I slid my tongue into his mouth. Our tongues caressed and stroked one another. He leaned down and placed his hand against the back of my head, gently pressing my face closer to his. As his lips explored mine, I felt muscles between my legs tighten and contract rhythmically as my panties grew moist. An intense warmth emanated from my womanhood and grew hotter as our kissing intensified.

Finally, after a long time, I pulled away from Johnny and gasped.

“That was one hell of a first kiss,” I said.

“I couldn’t agree more. My heart is pumping so fast, I’m worried it might be my last. I guess we’re not counting those pecks you gave me before.”

“Those pecks weren’t in the same league as that kiss.”

After we had a chance to catch our breath, we continued our make out session on the Ferris wheel. All the anxiety I felt over my fear of heights melted away. The whole rest of the world melted away. All I knew was the feel of Johnny’s arms wrapped around my body, the sensation of his tongue sliding over mine, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

We left the fair and Johnny drove me home. I held his hand as he drove and gazed at him the whole time. He was gorgeous. He was smart. He was funny. He was kind. He was mine…or I hoped he would be. With each additional moment I spent with him, I wanted him more.

He parked his SUV in front of the townhouse, and we spent several minutes making out. I fought hard to resist the intense impulse to order him up to my bedroom. My pussy ached with a sense of longing emptiness. I wanted him to fill the vacant void between my legs, to feel the hardness of his manhood deep inside me. But I had made a promise to myself. My days of being an easy slut were behind me.

I reluctantly pulled away from Johnny’s lips and said, “Johnny, I have a secret I want to share with you.”

“What is it?”

“I like you.”

“I would never have guessed,” he said with a coy smile.

I swallowed hard before I continued. “I don’t want this to sound weird, but it’s one of those things that’s going to sound weird no matter how I say it.”

He stared blankly at me. “Whatever it is, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”

I smiled. “I hope not. Listen, I recently went through a major change in my life. The best way to put it is to say that I used to be a completely different person. Something very unexpected happened and I changed. The change was so dramatic, I didn’t even recognize myself. Ever since I changed, I haven’t really liked who I’ve become. I’m making a concerted effort to change who I am because of that. I’m still not completely sure exactly who I am. I’m still figuring that out. But I have a good idea about the type of person I want to become. I like you. I like who I am when I’m around you. The old me wouldn’t hesitate to take you inside and…or maybe the old me wouldn’t have even been interested in you. Ugh. This is hard to explain. Look, the point is I need you to be patient while I figure things out.”

Johnny gently stroked my cheek with his hand and looked into my eyes.

“Kelly, are you trying to tell me that you’re in the middle of a divorce?”

“No, I’m not married.”

“Are…were you a lesbian?”

“No!”

“Then are you saying that you used to…”

“Stop!” I cried. “Stop trying to figure it out. To be honest, I don’t fully understand it myself. I’m only trying to be honest with you. I don’t want you to think I’m not interested. I am. But I’m in the process of trying to figure out who I am and how to become the person I want to be. That means I need to take things slow.”

“That’s fine,” Johnny said with a smile. “I don’t have any trouble with that. Kelly, I know we just met, but I have a strong feeling about you. You’re a stunningly intelligent woman, you’re funny, your friends love you, and I’m sure you’ve been told your whole life how beautiful you are, so I won’t bother to tell you again. You’re a great girl, and I’m eager to get to know you better, whoever you turn out to be after this change you’re going through. Take as much time as you need, I don’t want to rush you into anything. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to. A girl like you doesn’t come by very often, and I’m not going to blow this chance with you.”

Right then and there, I wanted to drag Johnny upstairs, strip him naked, and fuck his brains out. To this day, I have no idea how I fought that soul-burning desire.

Instead, I gave Johnny another kiss on his lips and said, “Good night. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I’ll be counting the seconds,” he said.

I stepped out of his SUV and took slow, hesitant steps toward the front door of the townhouse. A few moments later I heard his SUV pull away from the curb and drive off. I stopped walking toward the door, turned, and watched him drive down the street. I wanted so badly to chase after him and bring him back.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Over the next few days, Johnny and I texted non-stop. Every time I received a message from him, my heart did a little backflip. We spoke over the phone every night before we went to bed. After we got off the phone, I would take risqué selfies and send them to him. Then I would crawl under the sheets and finger myself as I fantasized about all the dirty things I wanted Johnny to do to me. In the morning, I would take more tantalizing selfies and send them to Johnny with instructions to keep me in his thoughts. Considering the types of images I sent to him, I was sure I was never far from his mind.

I told the girls every detail about my date with Johnny. They were impressed at first, but after a few days about hearing me talk about him endlessly, they grew irritable and begged me to shut up. It was hard to indulge them.

Ashley was proud of me for managing to restrain myself. She knew how hard it was for me to turn Johnny away from my bed. She assured me that I was making the right decision, that not only would he respect me more the longer I put it off, but that the sex would be even better when it finally happened.

The difficulty I encountered in depriving myself of Johnny led me to reevaluate my take on Brooke. The Monday morning after my date with Johnny, I picked up a latte from a coffee shop on the way to work and grabbed a cup of Brooke’s favorite drink.

When I arrived at work, I handed Brooke’s drink to her and said, “Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned. I’ve thought a lot about what you said the other day. I’m not saying you were right about me, but maybe there was more truth to your words than I cared to admit. No one’s perfect and I’ve looked at some places where I have room for improvement, and I’m committed to changing. As part of that, I need you to understand that I don’t have any impure intentions toward anyone in this firm. And I mean anyone.”

Brooke took the drink from my hand and stared at it suspiciously. “I don’t hate you, Kelly, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just some of the things you’ve done since you started working here, the way you act sometimes, you’ve made me uncomfortable. If you feel like you want to change, I support that. But I’m going to reserve judgment. From personal experience, I know it can be hard for someone to change who they are.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “But as women, we have enough going against us. We can’t afford to turn on one another. Take this olive branch as a sign of good faith on my part.”

Brooke took a sip from her drink, smiled, and went back to work. I reminded myself that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

I tried to bury the hatchet with Hunter as well by being less hostile toward his advances and trying to be a little more friendly. That backfired on me. He was soon convinced I wanted to sleep with him. One day while I was using the copy machine in the hallway, I felt a pair of hands grip my hips and gently push me to the side, gripping my buttocks lightly in the process.

“Sorry,” I heard Hunter say as he walked behind me. “Just squeezing through.”

I turned to see him smirking lasciviously at me as he continued on down the hallway. Clearly, being more tolerant of Hunter wasn’t the solution. I would have to think of some other way to handle him.

The day after my unwelcome encounter with Hunter, I began to feel unwell. My breasts began to swell and felt extremely tender. Wearing a bra became torture. Then I experienced painful bloating. I thought something I ate had given me gas. When I felt painful cramps around my belly, I suspected food poisoning. But then I went to use the restroom. When I pulled up my skirt and dropped my panties down to my ankles, I saw several drops of a viscous, dark crimson fluid on the crotch of my underwear.

“Oh my god!” I exclaimed as I realized what was happening.

During my lunch break, I drove to the pharmacy where I had purchased the morning after pill and grabbed some sanitary pads. When I went up to the register to pay for them, I was annoyed to find the same red-haired, pale-skinned guy with a goatee who had been there when I bought the pill after my night with Marco. Without any other options, I had him ring me up and paid for the pads.

I placed a couple of the pads in my purse and returned to the restroom at work. I carefully placed the pad in my panties and resumed working.

I felt disgusting going through the day with menstrual fluid gathering on the pad in my panties. It felt like I was wearing a diaper. A soiled diaper at that. After only a couple of hours, I could feel that the pad had to be changed. The disgusting crimson ooze was gushing out of me.

When I got home the evening after my period began, I went to my room and immediately passed out on my bed. I was exhausted. I slept through the whole night without waking once, not coincidentally dreaming of Kelly’s first period at the age of twelve. That one was no more pleasant than the present one.

On the second day of my period, I didn’t even want to get out of bed. My vagina was sore, almost as bad as it had felt after my night with Marco. I seriously thought about calling in sick to work, but I powered through.

For three days, menstrual fluid poured out of me, and I felt like absolute crap. Every minute of those three days I reconsidered Chastity’s offer to turn me back into a man. Being her slave could hardly be worse than going through this once a month until I hit menopause. The only hesitation I felt was over the fact that, if I became a man again, I would lose any future I might have with Johnny.

On the fourth day after my period began, the flow of menstrual fluid slowed down to a mere trickle and stopped completely by the afternoon. The soreness between my legs abated and the swelling in my breasts stopped. I felt almost human again.

When it was over, I met up with Summer over coffee. She was the only person who could possibly understand how I felt.

“How do you put up with it?” I asked her. “I mean, I felt like I was dying. I’ve never been waterboarded, but if they really want terrorists and spies to talk, the government should find a way to force them to have a period. I would’ve spilled any state secret to make that nightmare stop.”

Summer giggled.

“Don’t exaggerate, Kelly. It’s not nearly that bad. Your first period is the worst. I remember the first one I went through after my transformation. Yikes. I was just starting to have fun being a girl and then I found out I’d have to put up with that every month. But you get used to it.”

“I will never get used to that any more than I would get used to getting my teeth pulled,” I insisted.

“You’ll get used to your period,” Summer assured me. “Think about it. Countless women all over the world experience their period every month. They find a way to cope. You and I aren’t any different. I know this is going to sound kind of weird, but I even sort of appreciate the feeling my period gives me. Not the physical feeling. That’s awful. What I mean is, going through the experience makes me feel like a woman. It’s kind of empowering. I know that’s hard to believe, but maybe it’ll make more sense if you have a baby someday. I never felt happier in my life, either of my lives, than the moment I held my son in my arms after giving birth to him. I felt whole, I felt complete…there’s no other way to say it, I felt like a woman. My period makes me feel that way a little bit because it kind of reminds me that I can have children.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You’re right. That does sound weird.”

Summer giggled again.

Having my period convinced me to spend more time reading the magic books I had purchased from Erica. Maybe I would never be able to transform myself into a man. I began to wonder if I even wanted to be a man again. But perhaps there was a magical solution to my period. It was an idea worthy of further investigation.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Johnny and I made plans to meet up for dinner and a movie after work on Friday. Considering the week I had gone through, I felt elated when I saw Johnny standing at my front door.

He was dressed in a black silk shirt and jeans. When it came to dressing to go out, there weren’t a lot of high expectations placed on men.

For my part, I wore an off-white corset top with a sleeveless square neckline and matched it with a black slit mini-skirt and a pair of light nude strappy sandals with three-inch heels. I styled my hair and doused myself in makeup, trying out a sultry smokey eye effect I had found in an article online and balancing it with a pale pink lip gloss. I enjoyed the satisfied look on Johnny’s face when he cast his eyes on me at the door, but my modesty notwithstanding, I had enjoyed the look of myself in the mirror even more.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

I raised myself up on tiptoes, grabbed his face, and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his lips. I pulled back, smiled, and said, “Not really.”

He grinned, put his hands on my waist, and raised me up into the air.

“I didn’t miss you, either,” he said as he kissed me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and squealed with delight when the kiss ended. When he put me back on the ground, I pressed my head against his chest.

“You are a sight for sore eyes after the week I have had,” I said.

As we drove to the theater, I said, “I’m so psyched about this movie. It’s been five years since Milton Kilgore made a movie. I thought he was never going to make another one after the bad reviews his last film received.”

“I wasn’t too thrilled about Dreams of Clockwork,” Johnny said. “The idea was interesting, but the execution was poor.”

“It wasn’t his best work, I’ll admit that, but it hits on the themes that make me love his movies so much. I was blown away when I found out the main character was an android. He defined himself by the way he hated the machines and then he had to deal with being one. It was a total mind fuck.”

“That’s true, and I wish the movie had explored that more. Instead, once he found out he was a robot, he turned against the humans and helped the other robots wipe them out. It went from a psychological thriller to a low-brow action movie.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, because your taste in movies sucks,” I said.

“About as bad as my taste in women, I’d say.”

I laughed mischievously.

Johnny and I held hands as we waited in line at the box office and bought our tickets. The feel of his flesh against mine was enough to make me warm and moist down below.

As we walked into the theater, he invited me to walk up the steps of the auditorium by stepping to the side and placing his hand on my bottom to lightly push me ahead.

I giggled at the feel of his hand on my butt and said, “Trying to catch a sneak preview?”

“Just making sure you don’t lose your balance,” he said.

When we took our seats, I placed my hand on his inner-thigh and caressed it.

“Now who’s trying to catch a sneak preview?” he said.

“I don’t want you to lose your balance and fall out of your seat,” I said.

The movie we watched was called Fear of the Flesh. It was about a scientist who found a cure for cancer that worked by changing a patient’s genetic code. The scientist realized that he could use the procedure to physically change people. His newfound power gave him delusions of grandeur, slowly driving him mad and leading him to experiment on people by transforming them into what he considered living works of art. He gave a woman wings so that she looked like an angel, caused another person to grow a third eye, and transformed yet another person into a jellyfish-like creature. I was unsettled when the scientist transformed the sexist business executive who had funded his research into a woman as a sort of ironic punishment. That one hit a little too close to home. The scientist came up with a plan to use the technology he had developed to transform all of mankind into bizarre creatures to fulfill his demented vision. The business executive destroyed the scientist’s lab to prevent him from carrying out his plan, killing the scientist in the process.

After the movie, Johnny and I had dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant.

As he dug into his lasagna, Johnny said, “Kilgore has really lost his touch. That was nothing more than a weird horror movie. The story had no depth, all the characters were one-dimensional. That was disappointing.”

“You’re not wrong, but that movie was still creepy as fuck,” I said as I spooled some spaghetti around my fork.

“Creepy is right. All that body modification stuff was disgusting. Who could be interested in stuff like that?”

I asked, “If you were transformed into a woman like that one character, would you have killed the mad scientist to save the world, even if it meant being stuck as a woman?”

“Yes,” Johnny said indifferently.

“You would have no problem being a woman?”

“It would be an adjustment, I guess, but you’ve managed just fine. Half the human race seems to be okay with it.”

I took a sip from the glass of red wine I had ordered.

“You’re only saying that because you have no idea how hard it is to be a woman.”

“Enlighten me,” Johnny said.

“As a woman, you’re smaller, you’re weaker, you’ve got to deal with periods, pregnancy, and creepy guys hitting on you all the time. Oh, and you can’t pee standing up. It’s tough.”

“I would think sitting down to pee would be easier. You can take a load off your feet.”

“Granted, but it takes so much longer.”

Johnny stared at me for a moment before saying, “Come on, there must be something you like about being a woman.”

I took another sip of red wine and thought for a moment.

“Relationships. Not with guys. With other girls. Women have deeper, more meaningful relationships with other women. It’s easier for women to be vulnerable and open up to one another. It makes for stronger friendships.”

“That’s funny,” Johnny said after he took a drink from his beer. “In the past, women have told me that they have trouble getting along with other women. Especially the more attractive ones. Girls get jealous of each other so easily. Didn’t you tell me that the women at your office give you a hard time because of the attention you get from your male coworkers?”

“Ha!” I exclaimed. “There you go proving my point. Do other guys give you a hard time if women hit on you? No. If women are all over you, they think you’re a bad ass. Being a girl sucks.”

Johnny laughed.

“Well, even so, I’m glad you’re a girl. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be going out with you.”

I gasped and feigned dismay. “You wouldn’t go out with me if I were a man?”

“Probably not, what with me not being gay and all.”

“So you really do just want me for my body!”

“That’s less the issue than the fact that I’m not into cock.”

I giggled.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. I used to feel the same way, then I tried one. Now I’m a fan.”

Johnny laughed again.

I slipped my right foot out of the sandal I was wearing and slid it under the table, playfully rubbing Johnny’s left leg with it.

“Ugh,” he grunted. “There’s something poking my leg.”

He reached under the table and grabbed my foot, yanking it up onto his lap. I screeched in protest.

“Gross!” he exclaimed. “What is this hideous thing? I should call the health department. No self-respecting restaurant would allow something like this to crawl around under a table.”

I giggled as he rubbed my foot with one hand.

“You’re so weird,” I said. “I love it.”

“You should talk.”

“Take me dancing.”

“Tonight?” Johnny asked.

“Yes, tonight. Live every day like it’s your last.”

“Okay, but you need to promise to be on your best behavior. You’ve been bad all night.”

“You don’t like it when I’m bad?” I asked as I pulled my foot away from his hand and slipped it down against his crotch.

He grinned as I rubbed him. I could feel something hard pressing against my foot.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said as I pulled my foot away from him.

Soon we were waiting in line outside a night club. I leaned my head against Johnny’s chest as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I grabbed his hand and slid it down to my ass.

“There are a bunch of creeps staring at my butt,” I said. “I want them to know it’s taken.”

“I thought you weren’t going to be bad if I took you out dancing.”

“I’m being a good girl. I’m letting everyone know my ass is spoken for.”

“Yeah right,” Johnny said as he gave me a hard slap on the rear.

“Ow!” I cried. Then I gave him a kiss and pressed my body against his. “That was fun. We’ll have to do some more of that when we’re alone.”

We eventually made our way into the club after paying the steep cover charge. Johnny instinctively gravitated toward the bar, but I pulled him by the hand and led him out onto the dance floor.

“Come on, babe, I don’t have your moves. You can’t expect me to get out on the dance floor without some liquid courage.”

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “All you have to do is stand there and look pretty. I’ll do all the work.”

True to my word, as soon as we were on the dance floor, I began shaking my hips and ass to the beat of the music. I arched my back and ran my hands playfully through my hair, lightly tossing it around as my feet carried me toward Johnny. I turned my back to him and began rubbing my body against his crotch in rhythm to the music. Johnny’s dance moves were largely limited to waving his arms around and gyrating his hips back and forth, but that was good enough for our purposes. I got excited when I felt Johnny’s erection pushing against me.

We danced for over an hour. What we did on the dance floor was a proxy for what we both wanted to do in the bedroom. I had hoped that it would give me some release from my urges. Instead, our bodies pressing against one another, sweating under the oppressive heat of the dance floor, only served to get my juices flowing. Those mysterious muscles deep within my body began to contract, and that familiar aching emptiness between my legs grew more intense. I wanted Johnny to respect me, but I wanted him inside me even more.

I wrapped my arms around Johnny, looked up at his face, and batted my eyes at him. “Let’s go to your place.”

He gave me the biggest smile I have ever seen and enthusiastically nodded his head.

“You got it.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A few minutes later, Johnny and I arrived at the condo he owned. He parked his car in the underground garage, and I practically hopped up and down with excitement as we waited for the elevator to come down and take us up to his floor.

“Fuck!” I cried. “Are there any stairs?

“It’s ten stories up,” he cautioned me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “That’s a long way to go.”

I dismissed his comment with a wave of my hand. “I could race up the stairs in a heartbeat right now.”

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your enthusiasm?”

Finally, the elevator doors opened. I yanked Johnny inside. As the doors closed, I pressed him against the inside of the elevator, jumped on him, wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, and planted kisses all over his face. He reached over to the console and pressed the button for the tenth floor. I kissed him as we rode the elevator up. I continued to kiss him as the elevator doors opened onto his floor and he carried me down the hall to his front door. There, he clumsily used his keys to unlock the door as I ravished him.

“Take me to your bedroom,” I demanded when he finally got the door open.

“As if I would take you anywhere else,” he said.

I closed his front door with my foot as he carried me off to his bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on any lights on the way there, so I didn’t get a very good look at his place. I caught glimpses of an impressive living room set and some decorative portraits of cityscapes hanging from the walls. That was of less concern to me in the moment than his bedroom décor.

When Johnny carried me into the bedroom, I said, “Where are the lights? Get the lights!”

He flipped a switch, and we were bathed in bright yellow light. I was pleased to see a king-sized bed covered in light gray sheets and pillowcases with a dark blue comforter. There was a print of Vincent van Gogh’s The Starry Night hanging on the wall over the bed, which would have been a mood-killer under other circumstances, but I was too horny right then to be bothered by the banality of the painting. The floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows that ran alongside the opposite side of the room had the curtains open and looked out onto a scenic view of the city.

Johnny dropped me onto the bed and then moved toward the windows, presumably to close the curtains.

I grabbed his arm and said, “No, leave it open. Let’s put on a show for anyone who’s watching.”

The perplexed look on his face told me that he was debating with himself over whether to do as I asked or to exercise his better judgment instead. He stepped away from the windows and came over to the bed. I was glad he was thinking with his cock. That’s where I needed his head to be.

I pulled Johnny down onto the bed and threw him on his back. I tore off his shirt and tossed it onto the ground. In my haste, I pulled of some of the buttons.

“That’s my favorite shirt,” he said as he watched the ruined shirt fall to the ground.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” I promised as I stared at his massive pectoral muscles. They looked as hard as steel. Below them were an array of finely carved abdominal muscles. I placed my hands on his arms and used my fingers to caress his biceps and shoulder muscles.

After taking a few moments to appreciate Johnny’s body, I bent my head down, stuck my tongue out, and licked his chest. I ran my tongue up and down over his pecs, then began teasing his nipples. I bit down gently on one of them.

“Ow!” he exclaimed.

“Don’t be a little bitch,” I said between taking nibbles of his nipples. “If you can’t handle this, you’re not going to be able to handle all the other stuff I’m going to do to you tonight.”

I ran my hands over Johnny’s chest and covered it with kisses, carefully appreciating the contours of his muscles. My lips worked their way down his abdomen. When I reached his navel, I undid his belt and pulled down his zipper. I yanked his pants and boxers down around his ankles, exposing his erect penis.

My jaw dropped.

“Oh my god! You’re huge!”

I wrapped my hand around his penis. It was so thick that I was unable to touch my thumb to my forefinger.

“I’m glad you like it,” Johnny said as I gently squeezed his cock. “It’s all yours, babe.”

“Damn right it is.”

I extended my tongue and licked the tip of his penis.

“I don’t believe it,” I said with a shocked look on my face as I pulled away from his face.

“What? What is it?” he asked with a worried expression.

“Your cock tastes like pineapple.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said with a wry laugh. “You’re making this awkward.”

“It does, too,” I assured him. “You don’t believe me?”

I ran my tongue around the tip of his penis like I was licking ice cream. He groaned. I took the entire head of his penis in my mouth and teased it with my lips and tongue. He groaned louder.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I believe you. It tastes like pineapple. It tastes like whatever you say.”

I giggled and smacked my lips.

“You have a yummy cock, babe,” I said. “Thank you for letting me suck on it.”

“My pleasure.”

I pressed my tongue against the base of his cock where it connected to his scrotum and licked the length of his cock all the way up to the tip. Then I went back down to another spot at the base of his cock and did the same thing. I continued that way until I had licked his whole cock. Then I began covering his massive penis in long, tender kisses. After several minutes of that, I went back to teasing the head of his penis with my tongue and lips before squeezing the whole thing into my mouth and down my throat. It wasn’t easy fitting Johnny all the way inside, but thankfully Kelly had a lot of experience controlling her gag reflex and I was able to accommodate Johnny’s impressive size.

“Fuck,” he whimpered as I took him in my mouth. “Keep going. Please don’t stop, Kelly. That feels so good. Don’t stop.”

Slowly, I pulled my head back and let his cock slip out of my mouth. When I looked at his penis after it was completely out of my mouth, I was astonished by how engorged it was. His cock had filled with so much blood that it had darkened in color by several shades.

“No, no, don’t stop,” Johnny begged.

“Sorry, babe. I don’t want you to come yet.”

I moved down to his ankles, pausing to pull off his shoes and socks before yanking off his pants and underwear and stripping him naked.

Johnny sat up underneath me and raised my arms over my head as he removed my corset top and bra. Once my breasts were exposed, he immediately began fondling them. That sent powerful ripples of pleasure up and down my spine. Then Johnny placed his mouth on one of my nipples and began sucking on it. I gasped at the wonderful sensation his tongue provided me. I could feel my pussy pulsate with excitement as my womanly fluids leaked down my inner thighs.

“That feels so good,” I whispered. “Suck on my tasty titties.”

“You got it,” he said.

I giggled some more.

Johnny slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me up, tossing me on my back. He raised himself up on his knees and quickly tore off my skirt, thong, and sandals. Once he had me naked, he grabbed my ankles and lifted my feet up into the air as he leaned down to kiss my pussy.

I howled with delight at the feel of his lips pressed against my womanhood. Bolts of mind-numbing bliss shot out from my cunt and flowed over my body with the intensity of ocean waves. My heart pumped hard in my chest and my breathing quickened. I writhed under the machinations of his skilled tongue. He was teasing places I hadn’t known existed. I twisted and turned as if trying to escape the intensity of the sensations to which Johnny was subjecting me.

“Oh fuck!” I shrieked. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

Muscles tucked away deep within my body suddenly contracted and spasmed. I involuntarily rocked my pelvis back and forth. For an instant, everything went dark. It was only for a moment, but that moment felt like it stretched on forever. In that moment, I felt completely relaxed and content. I was at peace with myself and the world around me. I wanted for nothing except to stay lost in that ethereal moment for eternity. Then gradually physical sensation returned to me, and I could feel my body convulsing with intense pleasure.

“Are you okay?” I heard Johnny ask from his position between my legs.

“Uh…yeah,” I said struggling to catch my breath. “I…I think…I think I came.”

Summer had described her first orgasm as an out of body experience. I thought she had been speaking metaphorically. There was nothing metaphorical about what had just happened. If that was what women’s orgasms were all about, I wanted more.

Johnny gave my pussy another kiss and said, “That’s good, but we’re not done yet.”

He took my ankles in his hands again and raised my legs into the air, pushing them apart and exposing my pussy to his throbbing cock. He pressed the tip of his giant dick against the lips of my tiny pussy. I grew wet at the feeling of his big, hot cock against my womanhood. I had never wanted anything in my life as badly as I wanted his cock at that moment.

“Stick your cock in me!” I demanded.

“Be patient,” Johnny said as he teased my pussy with the tip of his cock. “All good things come to those who wait.”

I groaned in ecstasy as he continued to tease my pussy with his cock.

“Please, baby, stick it in,” I pleaded. “Please. Make me your little cum slut. Fuck me. I need you, baby, I need you so badly. Please stick your cock in me. I want to be your cum slut.”

Johnny reached over to the nightstand beside his bed. I watched him in irritation, greedily wanting him to fuck me. Instead, he opened the drawer in the nightstand and withdrew a condom. He tore open the wrapper and pulled the condom out.

As he was about to slip it on over his erect cock, I cried, “No! Don’t do that! I want to feel you!”

He paused and looked up at me incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”

Johnny tossed aside the condom and raised my legs into the air again. I felt so excited as I lay on my back with his cock positioned at the opening of my vagina. I could hardly wait.

Johnny grinned as he slid his bare cock into my pussy. I winced as he stretched me open. There was a painful burning sensation as my womanly flesh stretched to accommodate Johnny’s size. He was much larger than any man I had previously slept with. I groaned in discomfort, but I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t care how much it hurt, I needed him to fill me.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked.

“Yes,” I insisted. “Don’t stop. Stick it all the way in. Make me yours.”

As Johnny slid deeper into me, the pain I felt gave way to intense feelings of pleasure. His cock pressed against sensitive areas within my body that reacted to the touch of his flesh with delight. As he began to thrust in and out of me, powerful waves of electricity sprang from my pussy and charged out across my tiny body.

“That feels incredible,” I said in a panting voice.

It felt wonderful lying there on my back, my legs spread and raised in the air, completely in Johnny’s power, feeling him thrust into me. I tried to imagine myself as a man, exercising this sort of dominance over a woman. The idea struck me as ridiculous. I could not see myself in that position as David. I was never a dominant man. The submissive role of the woman seemed more appropriate for me. This was the part I had been meant to play. I felt happy in this position, fulfilled physically and emotionally in a way I had never dared to imagine. I was better off as Johnny’s woman than I ever could have been as a man.

“Oh my god!” I screamed. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Make me your bitch!”

As he continued to pump his cock into my pussy, Johnny grabbed my feet and pulled them toward his mouth, taking the opportunity to lick the soles of my feet. That tickled and sent a tingle up my legs and throughout my body. When the tingling reached my pussy, my muscles contracted. Johnny grunted as my vaginal walls tightened around his dick.

“Wow!” I squeaked. “That feels amazing!”

Johnny kissed and licked my toes one by one. The feel of his lips and tongue teasing my little feet felt good, but the joy I experienced as a result was more than merely physical. Johnny was using my body for his own pleasure. My mouth, my tits, my pussy, my feet, every part of me was being subjugated for his enjoyment. The knowledge of that aroused me. The realization that Johnny was using me for his gratification made the sex better for me. I was his personal sex toy.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes! That’s hot!”

He kissed my feet as he fucked me, and I began to experience sensory overload. My whole body was vibrating with excitement. It was too much. The feel of his cock stretching apart my pussy with each thrust, his lips and tongue running over my feet, one of his hands massaging my tits. I couldn’t handle it.

My hips began thrusting back and forth of their own accord with no incitement from me, meeting Johnny’s cock each time it plunged into me. My body took on a life of its own as it pressed urgently against Johnny, seemingly trying to swallow his cock and submerge it within my womanhood.

“Oh god! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

My body exploded. Or that was what it felt like. All the muscles in my body tightened and suddenly relaxed. Everything went dark again. I returned to that euphoric state of trans-dimensional bliss. That must be what heaven feels like, the attainment of a perfect state of being.

Then I was back in my body, convulsing violently and shouting at the top of my lungs as I came down from my second orgasm.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

“I’ll fuck your brains out!” Johnny promised.

Johnny was as good as his word. My heart raced and I struggled to swallow enough air into my legs. Sweat was pouring down my face, chest, and shoulders. I shook as my third orgasm overwhelmed me.

I disappeared yet again into that otherworldly place my orgasms took me. I wanted to stay there so badly, to lose myself in that place. But I knew it had to end.

When it was over, I was rocking my hips back and forth, thrusting Johnny’s cock in and out of me, screaming in ecstasy at the amazing sensations he unleashed on my body.

Then Johnny’s face tightened into an expression of pain as he grunted, “Ugh!”

I felt something pounding within my body like a maddened beast beating on a drum. Johnny shuddered and trembled, scaring me with the powerful intensity of his movements. The world spun. My insides throbbed as his giant cock spasmed. I felt a burning heat fill me up inside as he spurted his cum inside me. I could feel his semen flow inside me with all the energy of a raging river. Then a second spurt of semen splashed against my insides. By the time the third spurt unleashed even more of Johnny’s seed into me, I felt like a dam had burst inside my body and I was flooding.

After Johnny’s orgasm ended, my body went limp. I lay lifeless on the bed. I couldn’t move. I was beyond exhausted. I just barely had enough strength to breathe.

Johnny lay on top of me, his engorged cock losing some of its hardness, but remaining large and thick. He was able to stay inside me for a long time after his erection subsided. That made me happy. I didn’t want him to pull out of me. He belonged inside me and that was where he should stay. I was his. I belonged to him. And he had to hold onto me.

He muttered futilely, “That was…that…I can’t think of the words.”

“Perfect,” I mumbled. “That was perfect.”

With an enormous physical effort, I managed to raise my arms and place them around Johnny. I hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips.

It had been several weeks since I had been transformed. But it wasn’t until that moment that I became a woman. For the first time that I could remember, I was happy. Just happy.

Chapter Thirty

Johnny and I made tender, passionate love throughout the night. I lost track of all my orgasms, but I must have had dozens. Johnny came inside me numerous times. I eagerly took him between my legs and in my mouth. At some point, we finally collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I woke up around noon and smiled when I found I was lying down beside Johnny with my face against his chest. I propped myself up on my elbows and pulled the blanket off Johnny. I gazed at his naked body, appreciating every part of it. My eyes focused on his prominent erection. I smirked as I positioned myself over his crotch and began sucking on his cock.

Within moments, Johnny woke up and grinned as he looked down and gazed into my eyes. I smiled back at him.

“Best wakeup call I ever had,” he said.

“Not yet it isn’t,” I told him.

I went to work on his cock. He groaned as if in pain. Moments later, he let out a fierce below and ejaculated, filling my mouth with his yummy cum. I happily swallowed his semen then licked his penis clean of any of his remaining sperm.

Once I had swallowed every drop of Johnny’s tasty semen, I looked up at him and said, “Now it’s the best wakeup call you ever had. Your cum is delicious, by the way.”

Johnny struggled to catch his breath. “Help…help yourself to as much as you want.”

We got out of bed and took a shower together. We couldn’t resist going at each other one more time while showering.

Afterward, I made breakfast for us. Technically, I suppose it was lunch.

We made plans to get together again in the evening, and Johnny dropped me off at home so I could get some rest and freshen up.

As I said goodbye to Johnny while he was parked out in front of the townhouse, I hugged him and said, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours to pick you up,” he said.

“That sounds so far away.”

He gave me a kiss and I got out of his SUV.

As soon as I walked through the front door, I heard Ashley say, “There’s our naughty little girl.”

“Here I am,” I said as I strutted into the living room with a big grin on my face. Ashley, Emma, and Becky were sitting in the living room watching something on television.

“Fresh from your walk of shame?” Emma asked.

“More like my walk of pride,” I said. “You bitches can’t slut shame me today. I had way too many mind-altering orgasms last night to care.”

“Slut shaming?” Becky said. “Fuck that. I’m jealous. He was that good?”

“No, he was way better,” I said as threw myself on the couch beside Ashley. “It was magic, pure magic.”

Ashley giggled. “I haven’t heard you talk that way about a guy before.”

“I’ve never felt this way about a guy before,” I said.

I gave the girls the play-by-play on the previous night. They sat enthralled and hung on every word.

“Damn,” Becky said. “Is Johnny down for a threesome?”

Emma gave Becky a hard shove and scowled at her.

“What?” Becky said. “Who wouldn’t want to get in on that action?”

“Forget it. He’s all mine and I’m not going to share.”

Ashley smiled. “I’m glad to see you so happy, honey. I just hope you’re not rushing into anything.”

“I don’t think I am. I’ve got a great feeling about Johnny.”

“Trust your instincts,” Ashley said. “At least Johnny has you taking an interest in how you look again. I was starting to worry you were going to style your hair into a pixie cut and begin wearing baggy jeans and steel-toed boots.”

“I’m not gay,” I said.

“We were starting to wonder,” Emma said.

Becky nodded.

I got up off the couch and said, “I have to go. Johnny and I are going out again tonight and I need to get ready.”

“If you guys are going to fuck again tonight, bring him here,” Becky said. “If you tire out, you can tag me in.”

I flipped Becky off as I made my way upstairs to my room.

Once in my room, I collapsed on my bed and took a nap for several hours. My weekend had so far been exhausting and it was only Saturday afternoon.

I woke up around 4:00 p.m. and began getting ready. I showered and shaved my legs. Then I dressed in a backless denim halter dress with a pair of espadrille wedge sandals. After applying my makeup, I touched up the nail polish on my fingernails and toenails. Johnny swung by to pick me up after 6:00 p.m.

I kissed him when I met him at the front door and said, “It feels like forever since I last saw you.”

“It was like four hours,” he chided me.

We went to a beachside restaurant with a beautiful view of the ocean for dinner. Afterwards, we went for a walk along the beach. As night fell, I grew bold and led Johnny to a secluded cove where we made love under the moonlit sky. Then we went back to his place and spent another enchanted evening making love to one another.

He dropped me off at home early the next morning after we made plans to meet again later that afternoon. By then, my head was swimming in pleasant daydreams where I married Johnny, had his children, and raised our family in a nice tract home in the suburbs surrounded by a white picket fence. Only a few weeks before, the idea of being a man’s wife and raising his children would have disgusted me. Now it was the stuff of fantasies.

I removed my makeup, showered, and got dressed in a white rib-knit V-neck tank top with a plaid miniskirt and black over-the-knee suede boots. As I applied my makeup and styled my hair, I realized how right Ashley was. I was dressing the way Kelly had dressed in my memories from before the transformation. I noticed that some of my color and style preferences from my time as David had changed. When I stopped to think about it, even my tastes in things like movies, books, food, and music had changed a little. That made me wonder if Kelly’s personality had in some ways subsumed mine. Perhaps that was why the idea of being a wife and mother now appealed to me. There was no way to be sure.

After I was done getting ready, I grabbed my phone and called Summer. She answered and I could readily tell from her cheery tone that she was happy to hear from me. I told her what had happened with Johnny, and she insisted on immediately driving down to speak with me in person. We arranged to meet up for coffee later that morning.

About an hour later, I was sitting at a table in a café sipping a latte when Summer walked through the door. She beamed as she saw me and waved. I got up and wrapped her up in a tight hug. She ordered some coffee, and we sat down at our table.

“You really didn’t have to come all this way on my account,” I told Summer.

“This is a big deal, Kelly. Losing your virginity is one thing but falling in love is something else. It means way more.”

Love? I hadn’t thought of it that way. I mean, of course I was in love. What else could make me feel the way I did? But I hadn’t stopped to think about the significance of what that meant.

“Yes,” I said with a grin. “Love. I am in love. For the first time in my life, I’m in love.”

“For the first time in your life as Kelly. From what you’ve told me about your memories of your new life, the girl you’ve become has been in love before. But this is your first time in love. I take it you were never in love as David?”

I nodded. “Sure, I had crushes on girls I barely knew or never spoke to, but no, I never had the chance to fall in love as a man.”

“I was the same way. In fact, it’s only in recent months that I can honestly say I’ve fallen in love. All the fun I had with boys when I first became a girl doesn’t count, of course. That was just mindless sex. The only meaningful thing that came out of that was my son. But my relationship with Teddy has taught me how much better love is than meaningless sex.”

“It’s the best thing in the world,” I said. “Every waking moment of my life is filled with this fulfilling sense of purpose, this drive to move forward and see what’s next. Before, especially as a man, I always felt like I was going through the motions, living because I didn’t want to die, not because I actually took any joy out of life. Now, every moment feels like a gift.”

“I feel exactly the same way,” Summer said. “It’s a great feeling. You need to understand, it can be dangerous. It’s a tired cliché, but we don’t think straight when we’re in love. It’s important to think clearly for a woman. There’s so much more at stake for us.”

A light clicked on in my head.

“Oh. Do you mean like your son?”

“Yes. Sex carries more consequences for women than it does for men. Everyone knows that. Most people don’t realize love is the same way. I’m glad you’re in love with Johnny. That’s great. Before you do anything you may regret, you need to make sure he’s in love with you. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you’ve chucked any thought about becoming a man out the window now. Am I right?”

I was about to respond with an enthusiastic “yes,” but I hesitated. Yes, a part of me wanted to be with Johnny forever, dreamt of becoming his wife and the mother of his children. But there was still a part of me that wanted to get back to my old life. I tried to understand why, but I couldn’t explain it.

“I…I’m not sure, Summer. I’m happier as a woman than I ever was as a man. There’s still this nagging feeling, though. A part of me at least wants to have the option of being a man again, even if I decide I’m better off as Kelly.”

“You need to figure out what you want before you take things any further with Johnny,” Summer cautioned me. “Today, I’m happy as a woman. Nothing could ever force me to go back to being Sean. I’d do anything to remain the woman that I’ve become. But I didn’t always feel like that. I chose to remain Summer because I loved my son, even before he was born, not because I was sure that was what I wanted. For a long time afterward, even though I felt I made the right decision, I second-guessed myself. I dreamt of becoming a man again. Mostly, I think, because I felt like that was my real life, even if it was a miserable life. My life as Summer, as great as it is, felt like a life that was forced on me. No one likes feeling like something was forced on them. Maybe you’re going through that right now.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “What do you think I should do? Should I stop seeing Johnny until I’m sure I want to remain a woman? I don’t think I can do that. But if I’m being completely honest with myself, I can’t say that I’ve gotten the thought of becoming a man again completely out of my head. Oh, Summer, I don’t know what to do.”

Summer put her hand on mine and looked into my eyes. “I can’t tell you what you should do. You just need to be true to yourself. I know that’s not easy. I’m going through the same thing right now. That’s one reason I had to come see you.”

“What is it, Summer?”

Summer took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “Teddy proposed to me.”

“Oh my god!” I cried. “That’s wonderful!”

I leaned over and gave Summer a hug.

“It is wonderful. I said ‘yes,’ of course. There’s no doubt that I’m in love with him and want to spend my life with him.”

“Then what’s the problem?” I asked.

Summer looked at me with a pensive expression on her face. “What do you think, Kelly?”

I sighed. “Chastity?”

Summer nodded. “When Aunt Chastity finds out that I’m going to marry Teddy, she’ll find some way to lash out at me. It’s in her character. She just hates me so much and wants me to suffer. It’s like she can’t allow the slightest happiness to creep into my life. The only happiness she ever let me hold onto was my son, and I think she only did that because she sees him as a part of my punishment.”

“That’s horrible, sweetheart. But I need to be blunt with you. You’re never going to know a moment of real happiness until you stand up to Chastity. That’s just the plain truth.”

“I know,” Summer said. “Believe me, I know. It’s just not that easy. I’ve tried to explain to you before. That’s why I understand what it’s like to be in your shoes. It’s time to make some tough choices.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s time to make some tough choices.”

Chapter Thirty-One

If only I had known how prescient my conversation with Summer was to become. The days and weeks that followed were definitely filled with tough choices.

My love for Johnny made me realize how much happier I was as a woman, that much was true. In accepting my feelings for him and embracing my womanhood, however, something else awakened in me. It was more than just the fact that I now regularly wore makeup, styled my hair, and felt more comfortable in skirts and heels than I did in jeans and sneakers. Aspects of Kelly’s personality that had remained dormant since my transformation suddenly began to assert themselves in ways big and small.

I didn’t recognize it at first because I was so crazy about Johnny. In fact, for the first time since my transformation, I began to feel like things were beginning to get back on track.

At work, I began going out to lunch with Brooke and the other girls. They became more accepting of me once they realized I wasn’t the shameless slut they had thought I was. I could tell they even began to like me.

One event in particular helped to change my coworkers’ opinion of me. One day Mr. Baxter told me to assign some work to Hunter. He needed a motion prepared and gave me the details to pass on to Hunter. I had no desire to speak with Hunter for fear of being subjected to his casual sexism. It was a simple motion and I had prepared several similar ones for Mr. Baxter as David. I figured I could spare myself the hassle of dealing with Hunter by preparing the motion myself. That was just what I did.

I didn’t bother telling Mr. Baxter that I had prepared the motion. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Then, the day after I had turned the motion in to Mr. Baxter, he called me into his office.

“Close the door,” Mr. Baxter said as I stood before his desk. I dutifully shut the door to his office. “Is there something you’d like to share with me?”

“Uh…I tried a new blend when I made your coffee this morning,” I said. “I know you don’t normally like that fancy gourmet stuff, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Mr. Baxter raised his eyebrows at me. “Now that you mention it, my coffee did taste a lot better when you brought it to me this morning. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. The draft of that motion I assigned to Hunter a few days ago didn’t look like his work. I’m familiar with the way he writes, the way he composes arguments. It was nothing like that.”

“It wasn’t?” I said nervously.

“It wasn’t even close,” Mr. Baxter said drumming his fingers on his desk. “I think maybe you know why.”

I folded my hands in front of me and looked down at my shoes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baxter. I never assigned the motion to Hunter. I thought that maybe I could take a crack at it. I didn’t mean to cause any problems and I won’t do it again.”

Mr. Baxter laughed. “I’m hoping you’d be willing to do more of the same moving forward. I don’t know how you picked up the skill to put together something like this, but your work product is better than Hunter’s. I went to discuss the motion with him, and he had no idea what I was talking about. There was only one possible explanation. I’d like to promote you from secretary to paralegal. If you think you can do work like this on a regular basis, you can make a much bigger contribution in this office as a paralegal than you can by making me coffee. Your promotion will come with a significant raise, of course. What do you think? Are you up to the challenge, Kelly?”

“Oh my god!” I shouted. “Yes! Of course I’m up for it! Thank you so much!”

I ran over to Mr. Baxter, bent down, and gave him a hug. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as my breasts pressed against him. Realizing how awkward that must have been for him, I let go and stepped away.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

“That’s, uh, okay, Kelly,” he said. “You should be excited. Clearly, you’ve picked up a lot in your short time here. I’m proud of you.”

Brooke and the other girls in the office were happy for me. The promotion made me feel great. It was a sign that people were beginning to see me as more than some vapid airhead with a good body. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I felt like the men in the office began to treat me differently, too.

I was so filled with confidence after I got my promotion, that I decided to take the plunge and cast my first spell. I had been studying the books I bought from Erica carefully to learn the fine art of physical transformations. I decided to start with something simple that didn’t require any natural skill, it was the type of spell anyone could perform with the right information.

In the evening, after work, I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bathroom. After reading and re-reading the instructions multiple times, I recited an incantation in Latin as I mixed some sage and other ingredients I had gotten from the supermarket into a bowl full of tap water. I don’t know what I had expected to happen, but there was no howling wind or blinding light. Hoping I had done everything right, I dipped my hands into the bowl, soaked them with water, then ran my hands through my hair. I stared in amazement at my reflection as the color of my hair changed from black to blonde. I ran more of the water from the bowl through my hair and before long every strand of my hair had transformed into a platinum blonde color.

When the transformation was complete, I ran to Ashley’s bedroom and burst inside. She was lying on her bed reading something on her phone. Ashley looked up at me and her eyes widened.

“What the fuck did you do?” she asked as she hopped out of her bed and ran over to me. “If you wanted to bleach your hair, you should have asked me for help.”

Ashley stood over me and ran her fingers through my hair with a puzzled expression on her face.

“How did you do this?” she said.

My face fell. Ashley was a beautician. If anyone knew about changing hair color, it would be her. If the results didn’t pass muster, then I must have done something wrong.

“Does it not look okay?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen a dye job like this. The color is perfectly even all over. There’s no smell. There are no split-ends, and your hair feels…silky. I’m pissed that you went to see someone else to do your hair. Who did you go to?”

“I did it myself,” I said.

“Bullshit. I don’t know anyone who could do a treatment like this. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I would swear you were a natural blonde. It looks perfect. How could you do something like this?”

I smiled and said, “Magic.”

Ashley glowered at me.

When Johnny and I went out to a restaurant to celebrate my promotion, he asked me about my hair while we were eating.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s a different look for you,” Johnny said.

“Different good or different bad?”

“Different. I fell for a raven-haired beauty. I was never a fan of the blonde bimbo look.”

“Bimbo?” I repeated. “Honey, bimbos don’t get promoted for their brains.”

“I know you’re not a bimbo. The thing I like most about you is your intelligence. You’ve got a head full of ideas and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. That’s sexy.”

I leaned my elbows on the table and cradled my chin in my hands, exposing a lot of cleavage to him.

“Are you sure that’s what you like most about me?” I asked.

He gazed at my boobs for a minute then looked up at me.

“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, you’re not bad looking, but if I had to choose between your beauty and your brains, it’s an easy choice.”

I leaned over the table and gave Johnny a kiss. He always knew exactly what to say to warm my heart.

The only drawback to my promotion was that I was reassigned to share an office with Hunter. That was when I realized something had changed about me for the worse.

Naturally, now that I spent every workday trapped in the same room with him, Hunter took every opportunity to shamelessly leer at me. He would also subject me to endless suggestive conversation. When we had shared an office together when I had been David, he had never shut up about his libido. It was little different now that I was Kelly, except that instead of bragging to me about all his escapades with other women, he artfully hinted at all the things he could do with me. While he had constantly talked about his girlfriend when I had been a man, he now carefully avoided mentioning the girlfriend I knew he still had and never brought up any girls he cheated with.

The strange thing was, I didn’t mind the way Hunter leered at me. I began to enjoy the feel of his eyes running over my body, undressing me in his head. God help me, his invasive glances would get me hot and wet between my legs. And although my initial instinct when he directed inappropriate comments toward me was to tell him to fuck off, instead I found myself encouraging his banter, even flirting with him.

The abrupt change in my behavior reminded me of the change in my sexual orientation that had come with my transformation. I hadn’t been able to change the fact that I now found men physically attractive and that the most beautiful women in the world didn’t stir a thing in me. When I had gotten into bed with Marco and then later with Johnny, my body had taken on a life of its own. I had found myself doing things without respect to what I would have thought of my actions as David. In Marco’s case, that had led to some traumatic regret. In Johnny’s case, it had led to the happiest period of my life. In any event, I had not acted with forethought when it came to my sexual desires, I had become a creature driven by pure instinct. It was suddenly much the same way with Hunter. I enjoyed the attention he directed toward me and promoted it, notwithstanding the fact that I was in love with Johnny, and I knew Hunter to be a scum bag.

After several weeks of dating Johnny, indulging Hunter’s advances, and practicing more spellcasting, I returned to Erica’s shop one evening after work.

I walked into her shop to find Erica sorting some books on a shelf. She glanced at me and said, “Uh-oh.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Who said anything is wrong? I took one look at you when you walked in through the door and saw that you’re in love. I never said that was bad. But love always complicates things.”

I smirked. “Is it that obvious?”

“It is to me,” Erica said. “I can see your aura, remember? You’re literally glowing.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” I said.

“How goes the study of magic? I assume you’re having some luck with physical changes, from the look of your blonde locks. I certainly hope you’re not casting any love spells. Those are more dangerous than a loaded gun, and they cause far worse injuries in my experience.”

“I’ve been able to make small changes to myself just fine,” I said. “Things like my hair, the color of my nails. I can even get the hair on my legs to stop growing. I don’t miss having to shave my legs or pubic hair. I’ve had less luck with changing other things. I bought a pack of playing cards and tried to change some of the cards to aces. They didn’t turn out quite right. I guess that’s because mana flows more freely through living things than it does inanimate objects.”

“You never cease to impress me,” Erica said. “That’s exactly right. That’s one of the many reasons reality alteration spells are so difficult. I would recommend transforming a rodent into a different type of rodent. Maybe turn a hamster into a gerbil or something. Normally, I would recommend practicing with a less ambitious goal in mind, but you really have a gift for this. I think you can start practicing with rodents and work your way up to primates in due time.”

I wondered for a moment where I was supposed to find primates to practice with, but instead I said, “There’s something I wanted to ask you about. You said that part of the process of adjusting to a new reality was seeing my personality change, maybe even having my personality erased. Lately, I’ve been acting differently. There’s this guy at work, he’s a real creep. He was that way in the old version of reality, too. He’s been hitting on me and acting inappropriately since I became a woman. I think he’s disgusting, but recently I’ve started encouraging his advances, even though I can’t stand him. It’s not like me at all and I’m acting like this…well, I’m acting like this against my will.”

Erica stopped shelving books and stared at me with an arched eyebrow. “Is this the man you’ve fallen in love with?”

“Oh, fuck no!” I protested. “I’ve started dating someone else, the most wonderful man in the world. His name is Johnny. He’s the exact opposite of this creep at work.”

“And this behavior towards your coworker began after your feelings for Johnny developed?” Erica asked.

I nodded.

“It sounds like a psychologist may be a more appropriate person to talk to about this,” Erica said. “Or at least a psychologist with a background in reality alteration spells. I can only speculate. Tell me something, from the memories you’ve gleaned through your dreams, is this man at work the sort of man Kelly has been attracted to in the past?”

“Well, he’s an asshole, so I’d have to say yes. In fact, most of the men Kelly has fallen for were guys that in my life as David I hated. Hunter fills that bill perfectly. I couldn’t stand him when I was a man, I dislike him even more as a woman.”

“Interesting,” Erica said. “Perhaps in the absence of your influence, Kelly would have gotten involved with this man Hunter. When you developed feelings for Johnny instead, it may have created a schism in your mind. You may have fallen in love with Johnny, but maybe the woman whose body you inhabit thinks she was supposed to have fallen in love with Hunter. That aspect of her personality may be asserting itself, trying to put you on the right, path as it were. The right path from her perspective at any rate.”

I gasped. I had suspected that Hunter was Kelly’s type. All the guys she had fallen for…Randall, Carlos, and Paul…had attitudes similar to Hunter. They were all arrogant, domineering men who used women and then tossed them away like trash. Could it be that Kelly’s personality was trying to force me to fall for Hunter?

“That’s a terrifying thought,” I said.

“It’s times like this I wish I had a destiny orb.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s sort of like the holy grail for psychics,” Erica explained. “As you know, we psychics specialize in divining the future, or rather possible futures, with varying degrees of success. Destiny orbs are the stuff of myth and legend. It is said that centuries ago people could use destiny orbs the way we use crystal balls today, but instead of just being able to view events across time and space, destiny orbs allowed someone to view other realities. If I had a destiny orb, I could look into an alternate reality where you never became Kelly and figure out who she ended up with.”

“Why can’t you get your hands on a destiny orb now?”

“To begin with, there are those who say they never existed. Even those of us who believe that they did exist concede that they probably would have been destroyed during the wizard wars. Wizards always had an aversion to any sort of magic that involved altering reality or visiting other realities.”

Erica walked across the room to another bookshelf and pulled a book out. She sifted through its pages then walked back and handed me the book, pointing to the page she had found.

“This book does a good job of memorializing most of the folklore surrounding destiny orbs and other mystic relics,” she said.

I took the book from her hands and looked through it.

“Could you grab me some of the supplies I’ll need to practice transformation spells?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll give you a bulk discount. Something tells me you’re going to need these supplies in bulk.”

“Thanks. Do you mind if I look over this and some of the other books in your collection?”

“That’s fine,” Erica said. “I’ll give you a discount on any you choose to buy, too. That’s what you get for being a repeat customer.”

I read up on the destiny orbs. The book Erica had handed me said that the destiny orbs were the remnants of ancient gateways between dimensions. Popular folklore said that a long time ago beings could travel across realities using the destiny orbs. This ability weakened the borders between realities and a league of wizards made it their business to shut down the trans-dimensional gateways to ensure that different realities weren’t destroyed through accidental mergers. For a time, people were still able to use the destiny orbs to peek at other realities, but over the centuries, wizards did their best to destroy the destiny orbs. Finally, during the wizard wars, wizards made a concerted effort to destroy any destiny orbs that remained in order to increase their power and gain an advantage over their opponents.

The story got my mind churning and I looked at other books in the store that dealt with alternate realities and interdimensional travel. I also found some books on the topic of djinn. I bought several of the books along with the supplies I had requested of Erica. The story of the destiny orbs had given me an idea that I intended to explore.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The weeks continued to pass quickly and brought changes both good and bad.

My relationships with my roommates, Brooke, and Summer grew stronger.

Brooke and I ate lunch together several times a week and occasionally went out shopping together after work. She had a great sense of fashion, and I appreciated her input when it came to clothes. She was long past worrying that I had any interest in Henry and I got the feeling that their relationship grew stronger because of that.

Summer and I met at least once a week, sometimes more often. She struggled for a long time about what to do about her impending marriage to Teddy and her strained relationship with Chastity. Eventually she decided that she would move away from Chastity to live with Teddy and her son. Summer was apprehensive about what Chastity might do in response, but she felt sure that this was the right course of action for her and her son. I encouraged her to follow her heart.

Speaking of which, Johnny and I fell deeper and deeper in love with each other with every day that passed. The longer we were together, the more I wanted to remain with him always.

Yet I never stopped studying magic. As the weeks passed, I became more confident in my use of magic. It became less about figuring out a way to become a man again and more about understanding the forces that had caused my life to change so dramatically. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I did find a way to become a man again. Possibly, I would just be glad to have gained the knowledge. I didn’t see how I could become a man again if it meant losing Johnny. He had become my whole world, my reason for being. What would be the point of becoming a man again if it meant living without him?

Figuring out transformation spells proved quite the challenge. I experimented with small animals like rabbits, which seemed fitting considering the old gag about pulling them out of top hats. I started by changing their features. That part was easy. I could make them different colors or alter the lengths of their ears. Then I jumped to transforming them into guinea pigs because, metaphorically speaking, they already were guinea pigs in my experiments. That’s when things got messy. For a couple of weeks, I either failed completely or transformed the rabbits into weird creatures that were a bizarre mix of rabbits and guinea pigs. I don’t think I hurt them by doing that, but it sure made my stomach queasy.

It took a while, but eventually I solved the problem and transformed a rabbit from a metaphorical guinea pig into a literal one. Then I transformed it into a frog. Finally, I turned it back into a rabbit. Before long I was able to turn male rabbits into females and vice versa.

There was another personal project I worked on during this time. I was able to complete my law school applications and I eagerly awaited responses from the schools.

From a professional standpoint, things at work took a turn for the better. People began to take notice that I performed my job as a paralegal quite well. I don’t think I was a better paralegal as Kelly than I had been as David, but unlike David, people eventually began to appreciate my talents as Kelly. That was a welcome change of pace. After only one month working as a paralegal, Mr. Baxter was so satisfied with my work product that he gave me another raise.

Unfortunately, things were growing worse with Hunter. I simply couldn’t control myself around him. Literally.

One day, after a long, physically draining weekend of lovemaking with Johnny, I was looking through my purse at work for some gum and found myself saying to Hunter, “Don’t you just hate it when you run out of condoms? I need to stop by the pharmacy during lunch and buy some more.”

“I never have that problem,” Hunter said. “I don’t bother with them. They ruin the fun.”

“You’ve got the right idea,” I said as I smiled at him. “Sex with a condom is like riding a convertible with the top up. There’s no fun in that. I like to feel the action.”

“If you ever get tired of that guy you’re wasting your time with, let me know,” Hunter said. “I’ll give you something to feel in action.”

I giggled. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Hunter and I went out to lunch regularly. I had to fight with all my will power to keep from throwing myself at him.

Once when we were eating out at the diner up the street, he said, “I really like that you appreciate the need to stay in shape. I can tell you exercise a lot. You’ve got an amazing figure. One of the perks of coming to work is getting to look at you all day.”

“I’m glad you notice,” I said involuntarily. “I don’t get all dolled up like this every day just to come to work. I like to show off what I got. You know what they say, use it or lose it.”

I leaned over the table and put my hand on his chest, gently rubbing his pectorals.

“A good figure deserves to be appreciated,” I said with a smile as I began rubbing one of his biceps.

Then he asked me to have a drink with him after work. I summoned all my willpower but couldn’t say no.

We found ourselves at a bar a few blocks away from the office that evening. One thing led to another and after a few drinks we were making out in the alleyway out back. I was lucky that his girlfriend called him just then and told him she had to see him right away. I don’t know what the rush was, but I was so glad for that phone call. Despite all my best efforts, I had no ability to resist Hunter. If his girlfriend had not called, I would have done anything that Hunter asked of me.

I was so ashamed of what I had done and disgusted to have the taste of Hunter on my lips. I cried in shame.

I called Johnny that night as soon as I got home and told him how much I loved him. He told me that he loved me, too, and asked if anything was wrong. What was I supposed to say? That I had cheated on him against my will as an unintended side-effect of a magic spell that had transformed me from a man into a woman because the personality of the girl that I had become was overriding my free will? That’s not the sort of thing a girl ever expects to have to explain to her boyfriend, and Johnny sure as hell wasn’t going to understand. Instead, I told Johnny that I missed him and couldn’t wait to see him again. At least that had the benefit of being true, although it was far from the complete truth.

Out of desperation, I redoubled my efforts to put my plan into action. I got by on almost no sleep as I poured through magic books and experimented with different spells and variations on spells. Erica had thought that with enough time, I could begin practicing on physically transforming monkeys or something. She seemed to think highly of my skill with magic, but even she probably wouldn’t have imagined that I was able to transform a rabbit first into a gorilla and then into an extremely frightened and confused human being. I could scarcely believe it myself when I did it. Thankfully, I was able to transform the poor man back into a rabbit before he panicked.

Shortly after my tryst with Hunter, I received acceptance letters from four of the law schools to which I had applied. That brightened my mood slightly, but I had more immediate concerns than my future career goals.

I thought long and hard about what to do. I wanted to be with Johnny, but I knew that I couldn’t control myself as Kelly. I knew that eventually I would give myself over to Hunter. I could feel the desire overpowering me. I didn’t want to be with Hunter, and I didn’t want to break Johnny’s heart. There was only one option open to me, and it was only open to me if I could pull off the right transformation spell and if my hunch about the djinn dimension was accurate. It was a difficult, painful decision, but I made my choice.

Given my situation with Hunter, I was running out of time. I knew that what I was about to do was extremely dangerous. The spell I was about to attempt could kill me, if I were lucky. If I happened not to be so lucky, I might end up hideously and irreparably transformed into some sort of abomination. The magic books made it clear that such things were known to happen. But I couldn’t risk the possibility of things with Hunter going any further than they already had.

I stripped naked and stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung in my bathroom. In my hands I held a cup full of a noxious concoction I had mixed together from various ingredients I had gathered. The fluid in the cup glowed a luminous green color that bathed the darkened room in an eerie glow.

I took a deep breath and whispered nervously, “Here goes nothing.”

I cleared my mind and carefully recited the incantation. It was critical that I focus all my energy on my objective. A moment’s lapse in my attention could cause catastrophic results. When the incantation was complete, I swallowed the nauseating fluid and nearly gagged. I knew it would taste bad, but nothing had prepared me for the bitter taste or the repulsive texture of the stuff. I forced myself to swallow all of the potion. This wouldn’t work properly unless I ingested all of it.

When I was done drinking the potion, nothing happened. I was about to drop to my knees and cry out of despair when I suddenly felt something. I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. I placed my arms over my stomach and bent over in agony. I could feel my internal organs rearranging themselves. I was still coming to grips with that pain when I noticed my hair retracting up my shoulders past my neck all the way to my ears as it grew shorter. My hair remained the same platinum blonde color, but it became stiffer and the familiar tickle of it on my back and around my face, neck, and shoulders was gone. Then an aching soreness began to develop on my upper torso as my breasts deflated. It was like someone was sucking the air out of a pair of balloons. The feeling of my skin retracting as my boobs continued to shrink was excruciating. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle anymore, I felt an intense pressure building between my legs as if my uterus was about to burst, followed by the sensation of two bulbous growths pushing out of my pelvis. I looked on as my vaginal lips swelled and fused together, creating a scrotum. I also felt my clitoris stretch painfully and eventually expand into a penis. I reached my hand down between my legs and was stunned to find a man’s genitals down there. I cried out while my body painfully contorted inside and out. As difficult as it was to believe, my breasts had flattened out into smooth pectorals, my waist had expanded and my hips had narrowed to give my body a masculine shape, and the demure vertical slit that had been my vagina had been replaced by a modestly sized penis and scrotum tucked away in a patch of pubic hair.

I had the body of a man.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I stared into the mirror in fascination. It had worked. Looking back at me in the mirror was the familiar reflection of David. The only difference was that the black hair I had sported my entire life, even during most of my time as Kelly, had been replaced by the blond hair into which I had transformed it when I first began experimenting with transformation spells. The blond hair didn’t look as good on David as it had on Kelly.

I looked around the bathroom. It looked smaller. The counter was still a sloppy mess of combs, hair ties, makeup, and various feminine products. I walked out of the bathroom.

“Ow!” I said as I grimaced and cupped my genitals with one hand.

It’s impossible to understand how uncomfortable it is to have a cock and balls bouncing around between your legs unless you’ve had an opportunity to experience what it’s like to be equipped with a vagina instead. It hurt each time my scrotum jostled against my inner thighs or penis. It would take a while to get used to the constant pain and discomfort of male genitalia again.

On the other hand, a massive weight had literally been taken off my chest with the disappearance of Kelly’s massive breasts. For the first time in weeks, I could stand up straight without feeling like I was being pulled forward and downward. The muscles in my neck, shoulders, and back felt so much better, too.

I still thought that, on balance, it was more difficult to walk around with a penis and scrotum dangling between my legs than it was to walk around with a pair of large breasts bouncing around my chest, but it was still a relief to be rid of my huge boobs.

As I stepped into the bedroom, I noted that it was still decorated in the same style as it had been when I had occupied it as Kelly. Reality had not changed.

Lying on the bed was a sweatshirt and sweatpants in size extra-large. Sitting beside the sweats on the bed was a pair of black canvas shoes. There was nothing magical about the clothes or shoes. I had bought them at the mall before making the potion so that in case it worked I would have something to wear.

I quickly dressed in the sweats and slipped on the shoes.

Once I was fully clothed, I walked around the bedroom. I felt bigger, clumsier, and slower, not as agile and flexible as I had felt as Kelly. It was a bizarre feeling getting accustomed to my old body.

After a few minutes, I looked at the turquoise ring on the middle finger of my right hand.

“Mort!” I bellowed.

There was a puff of that familiar insidious black smoke and Mort was suddenly standing before me in that same obnoxious navy-blue three-piece suit he always wore.

“You rang?” he said. Then his eyes widened for a moment, and he said, “Well, hello again, kid. Looks like you managed to figure out how to get your old body back. Can’t say the hair works for you.”

I immediately punched Mort in the face with my right hand. I looked on in shock as his face bent and contorted around my fist as if his head were made of clay. When I pulled back my fist, his face reverted back to its initial state, only now Mort was grinning widely.

“Ha, ha,” Mort laughed. “I bet you didn’t see that one coming. It’s not easy to land one on a djinn’s mug. Believe me, many have tried.”

“That still felt good,” I said.

“It always helps to let out a little steam,” Mort said. “What can I do for you, kid? You got more questions on the ethics of magic?”

“The ring,” I said as I raised it to his face. “You use the ring to travel between this dimension and your own. It’s basically a destiny orb.”

“A what?”

“A destiny orb, Mort. An inter-dimensional gateway.”

“That it is, kid. What of it?”

“Every djinn gateway is basically a destiny orb,” I explained. “The psychic, Erica, she had several books on the subject. I don’t know if there are any actual destiny orbs left, but the ring acts like one. Every ring, magic lamp, rug, enchanted condom, or other artifact that djinn use to enter this universe can be used like a destiny orb. I can use it to view alternate realities, and if I can view other realities, then I can travel to them or manipulate them.”

Mort removed his fedora and scratched his head. “Will you look at that. You learn something new every day. That’s interesting, kid. So what do you want?”

“This,” I said.

I waved my hand over the turquoise ring and recited an incantation. It was a simple enchantment that ordinarily would have served to give me control over a standard crystal ball. I wasn’t completely sure what the enchantment would do with a djinn’s gateway, but I had a hunch.

It is difficult to describe what happened next in words. In a way, it was similar to the way I had experienced Kelly’s memories through my dreams. It was as if I was dreaming again. Only instead of experiencing the memories of one person, I experienced an infinite number of realities.

Picture, if you will, a kaleidoscope filled with every possible color and shape you could imagine, and many you couldn’t imagine. Now instead of colors and shapes, picture an infinite array of possible realities. That was what it was like.

I thought I was about to lose my mind. And maybe I would have. Then I heard a familiar voice.

“How are you doing this?” Mort asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. There was a sort of echo effect to my words. It wasn’t actually an echo because I wasn’t actually speaking. When I say I heard Mort speaking or that I said something, I mean it sort of symbolically. There was no sound, because there was no air for sound to travel through. There were only disembodied words that pierced the fabric of reality. “Keep talking, Mort. It’s helping me focus.”

“You got it, kid. How’s this?”

“Uh…that’s good.”

“I’ve never heard of a mortal being able to visit. My hat’s off to you, kid.”

“This is your home,” I observed. “This is the land of the djinn. Your kind exist in every reality simultaneously.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

From what I had gathered about this place from the books I had read on the djinn, time and space didn’t work the same way here. I spent an eternity in the djinn dimension and yet was I barely there at all. I lived an infinite number of lifetimes without ever living or dying.

Gradually, my focus began to narrow. It was like adjusting the focus on a telescope or a pair of binoculars. Instead of experiencing an infinite number of realities simultaneously, I was only experiencing a few trillion. I continued to focus and then I was only experiencing a few thousand realities. Then after exercising all my willpower, I was able to focus on a single reality. I searched through one reality at a time until I found the one I was looking for.

I recognized the life of Kelly Rodriguez. I witnessed her birth and saw her grow up. Her life proceeded as I remembered it, only there was never a change to reality that caused me to become her. Instead, she lived her life without any interference from me. She went out with her roommates to the night club where she met Marco. Unlike me, she had fun with Marco and had no regrets the next morning. Without me, Kelly had no interest in football and never went to the sports bar, so she never met Johnny. Instead, she began to flirt with Hunter at work and eventually seduced him. Kelly hooked up with Hunter behind his girlfriend’s back. She fell in love with Hunter and did anything he asked of her. In return, Hunter treated her like crap, used her for sex and then left her to get back with his girlfriend. Heartbroken, Kelly quit her job. She never applied to law school. Instead, after weeks of coping with yet another failed relationship, she applied for a modeling job she found online only to learn that it was a casting call for adult films. Feeling like the only thing she had going for her was her looks, Kelly signed on and began a long career as an adult entertainer named Destiny Monroe.

“Looks like you did that broad a favor, kid,” Mort opined. “Now it’s just my opinion, but I think she was better off in law school than she is making dirty pictures.”

“That answers that question,” I said.

I turned away from that reality and began searching for another.

“Now what are you looking for, kid?”

“I’m a man again, but no one here knows who I am. David Rodriguez doesn’t exist. I need to switch out this reality for one where I have a life.”

“You’ve figured out how to change reality? You really have gotten a handle on this magic business.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t change reality. What I can do is switch one version out for another. Ordinarily, it would require extraordinary power to do something like that. But here, in this place, and with your gateway, it should be as easy as pulling a rabbit out of a hat.”

One of the fundamental principles of magic that Houdini had explained in the Treatise was the idea that, if something could be observed, it could be manipulated. In a way, that was the basic idea behind magic. You can manipulate anything you can observe. The key was figuring out how to manipulate the things you could observe, whether we’re talking about people, objects, mana, gravity, or any other observable force.

Thanks to Mort’s ring, I could observe other realities. Logically, that must mean…well, there was only one way to prove my theory.

I found a suitable reality. It wasn’t perfect, but it would be good enough for my purposes.

I concentrated with all my strength…

Chapter Thirty-Four

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock blaring. As I shut it off, I could see that it was 6:00 a.m. I sat up and grabbed my chest. There were no breasts. I reached down between my legs and felt the familiar form of my penis and scrotum. I looked around and saw that my room was back to the way I had decorated it as David. All the feminine décor was gone.

I got out of bed wearing only my boxer shorts and made my way to the bathroom. The bathroom counter was now free of all the women’s products that had formerly crowded it. I stared at myself in the full-length mirror. It had been no dream. I was a man again. I was David Rodriguez. I had even gone through the trouble of casting a spell to change my hair color back from blond to black once I had returned from the djinn world the night before.

Then, for the first time in a long time, I lifted up the toilet seat and peed standing up. I had missed that.

I got into a pair of running shorts, a t-shirt, and running shoes then went out for a run. A few blocks from the townhouse, I ran past two young women running down the sidewalk in skintight spandex shorts and matching sports bras. I admired their toned figures as I wished them a good morning and they returned the greeting. I was pleased to feel the first stirrings of an erection between my legs. My sexual orientation was once again that of a healthy heterosexual male.

When I returned home after my run, I shaved my face, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. I got dressed in a pair of khaki slacks and a blue button-down shirt.

“Mort, are you still there?” I asked.

There was the perfunctory puff of black smoke and Mort stood before me.

“Bravo, old boy. I have to hand it to you, I didn’t think it was possible, but you found a way to turn it all around. I never imagined that you would be able to do it that way, but you learn something new every day.”

“Thanks,” I said. “If this worked out the way I think it did, you’re the only person…uh, the only thing I’m going to be able to talk to about everything that happened. You occupy every version of reality, so you remember what happened. No one else will remember a damn thing. Not in this reality.”

“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll always have your old pal, Mort, just as long as you’ve got that ring on your finger.”

I walked downstairs for a breakfast of toasted waffles and coffee. When I reached the kitchen, I saw Ashley sitting at the dining table eating some cereal and looking at something on her phone. I smiled and felt like running over to her and giving her a hug. But I remembered that this was a different reality and things weren’t like that anymore.

“Good morning,” I said.

Without lifting her eyes up from her phone, Ashley muttered. “Morning.”

After I made my coffee and prepared my waffles, I sat down at the table across from Ashley. I looked over at her and said, “Ashley, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I want to say that if I’ve acted like some kind of a jerk since I moved in here with you guys, I’m sorry about that. I want to do better.”

Ashley raised her eyebrows at me. After a moment, she said, “Whatever.”

Then she got up, dropped her bowl in the sink, and walked out of the kitchen.

That was discouraging. But I reminded myself that I had just altered reality. Sort of. How much harder could it be to change my relationship with my roommates?

I drove to work and parked next to Hunter’s car. I looked over his car carefully but didn’t notice anything different about it.

I walked into the office building. On my way to my desk, I passed by Brooke in the hallway. She gave me a warm smile. I returned it but didn’t stop to make conversation.

I made my way to the office I shared with Hunter. Instead of seeing Hunter’s familiar face, however, I saw a young woman about my age standing by his desk, putting down her purse. She was petite, about five feet tall. She was dressed in a fitted pink blouse with a scoop neckline and a black pencil skirt and white open-toed pumps. Her arms and legs were slim with delicate hands and feet. Her tiny fingers and toes looked so fragile. Her hips were pleasantly curvy, but not overly thick. She turned slightly to the side, and I was greeted by the sight of her pert little round behind. Her stomach looked flat without any excess fat. Then there were her massive breasts. Although I was impressed by their size, what I admired most about her breasts was how round and firm they were. One didn’t normally see breasts like that on a woman unless she had paid a highly skilled surgeon to install them.

“Oh, good morning, David,” the woman said, flashing me a beautiful smile. “I didn’t hear you walk in.”

“Good morning, Tiffany. That’s okay. I have light steps.”

Tiffany was stunning. When I looked closely at her face, I could see that there was a strong resemblance in most of her features to the man she had been. Her nose was a little smaller, her lips a little thicker, and her eyes slightly more elongated, but her face basically looked like a more feminine version of what it had been before. Hunter had been a good-looking man, and he made for a beautiful woman.

“Tiffany, how would you like to have lunch with me today?” I asked.

Tiffany enthusiastically said, “Sure. I need to tell you about this crazy dream I had last night.”

“What was it about?”

Tiffany giggled. “I had this weird dream that I was a man, and you were a woman and…oh my god…this is so embarrassing…we totally made out.”

I laughed. “Wow. Crazy dream.”

I took Tiffany out for lunch that day and later that week we went for drinks together after work. Her sex drive was every bit as strong as it had been as Hunter, and it didn’t take much effort at all to convince her to go home with me. I took her back to the townhouse and we went to my room.

That night, I experienced sex as a man. It was odd. Physically, sex felt even better as a man than it did as a woman. The sensation of ejaculating into Tiffany was more enjoyable than the orgasms I had felt as Kelly. Yet, from an emotional standpoint, it was somehow less fulfilling. As Tiffany fell asleep nuzzling against my chest, I honestly thought that she got the better end of the deal.

Tiffany and I continued seeing each other if only because I didn’t have any better options. She was a stereotypically high-maintenance girlfriend, constantly wanting to spend time with me. I quickly grew tired of her but lacked the strength of will to break it off with her.

I wondered at first why Tiffany didn’t remember her old life as Hunter, but when I reflected on what I had learned about transformations and inter-dimensional travel, it occurred to me that maybe she did. It could be that her personality was stronger than Hunter’s and she had managed to subsume his mind. Over time, I became convinced that Hunter was in there somewhere, experiencing his knew life as a woman but unable to influence it in anyway. That seemed like an appropriate fate for him.

My relationships with Ashley, Becky, and Emma improved with some effort. We talked on occasion, shared a drink once in a while, but despite my best efforts, things never became anything close to what they had been like when I was Kelly. And of course, David didn’t know Erica or Summer. He had never met them. I soon began to feel alone again.

A few months after becoming David again, I sat at the sports bar one evening in my Mustangs jersey, drinking and watching a football game on television. Every few minutes I received another text message from Tiffany who was wondering where I was and wanted me to come over to her place to keep her company and fulfill her needs. I shut off my phone, tired of dealing with her.

“You a fan of the home team, bro,” a familiar voice asked me.

Sitting a few seats down from me at the bar was Johnny.

I smiled and said, “I’m loyal to a fault.”

We began talking about the game on television. His read of it was, as usual, superficial and uninformed. I set him straight and told him how the game would play out.

“I still can’t understand how you saw that coming,” Johnny said after the game ended.

“I’ve been following the game since I was a kid,” I said. “It’s second nature to me. I was a running back in high school, too. That gave me a better feel for the game even if I couldn’t play worth a damn.”

It was funny. I didn’t feel any physical attraction toward Johnny, not now that I was a man, but I liked him just the same. Watching the game with him that evening, that was the first time I had felt happy since becoming David again. When I said goodbye to Johnny, I realized how much I missed him. I realized how much I missed the life I had made mine and then left behind.

I had become David again to avoid submitting to Hunter and cheating on Johnny. It was the only way I could see out of my predicament. I had acted out of fear, which is always a bad move. Now I saw the error of my decision. This wasn’t who I was meant to be.

I immediately drove down to Erica’s shop, introduced myself to her as David for the first time, and ordered some supplies.

“Forgive me for being so forward, young man, but you have one of the strangest auras I’ve ever seen,” Erica said. “I’m not sure what you’re planning to do with these materials, but please be careful. Judging by what you’ve requested, you’re dealing with some very powerful magic.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I told Erica as I left her shop.

I stopped by the mall quickly to buy a women’s sweatshirt and sweatpants in the smallest size available along with a pair of women’s flip flops. Then I went home and mixed the potion.

After another painful physical transformation, I was once again Kelly Rodriguez. I put on the sweats and flip flops, then I waved my hand over the ring and recited the incantation. It took me a while, but I found the reality I wanted and switched it out for the one in which I was living.

The next morning when I came down the stairs dressed in a teal blouse, black skirt, and three-inch pumps and saw Ashley eating breakfast, I said, “What’s up bitch?”

Ashley shrugged and said, “Same shit, different day. You know how it is, honey.”

I ran over to her and hugged her. “I missed you, Ashley.”

Ashley laughed. “I swear, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re dating Johnny, I would be convinced you’re a lesbian.”

“You should be so lucky,” I said and then giggled.

When I arrived at work, Brooke greeted me warmly. Tiffany was also friendly, but she gave me a funny look and said, “Oh my god, I had the craziest dream last night. You are going to think this is so weird. I dreamt you were a guy and that I was dating you.”

I giggled. “Wow. Crazy dream.”

After work, I rushed over to Johnny’s place. When he opened his door, I nearly knocked him to the ground as I leapt onto him and wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist.

“Oh, babe, I missed you so much!” I shouted.

“I just saw you just last night,” he chided me.

“I know. It was an eternity. I’ll never do that again.”

In the following months, as I prepared to start law school, my life was perfect. My relationship with Johnny brought me a happiness and fulfillment I had never known as David. Sure, women’s orgasms weren’t as much fun as men’s, but sex was far more rewarding as a girl than it had been as a man, by a long shot.

My friendships with Brooke, Erica, Summer, and my roommates only grew stronger. In a way, they were even more fulfilling than my relationship with Johnny. It felt good to care about other people and to know that no matter what happened they always had my back. I honestly don’t think men have any idea how incredible the bonds between women can be, it’s a joy they’ll never know.

As for Tiffany, she was clearly much better off as a woman than she had been as a man. I did some experimenting with spells and I was able to confirm that Hunter’s mind was in fact buried within Tiffany, observing and feeling everything that she experienced but unable to exert any control over her. I imagined he was much happier. Hunter had always pursued sex doggedly, and Tiffany was able to satisfy her physical urges more easily than Hunter could ever have imagined. She hooked up with a different guy every week, sometimes two or three. Hunter would have done anything to be able to get laid on demand, now as Tiffany he had all the sex he could have ever wanted.

Mr. Baxter was so pleased with my work that when he found out I was going to be leaving to attend law school full-time, he offered me yet another raise to try and convince me to stay. But I had decided to commit myself to academics and had to turn him down.

After it was all said and done, I had only one loose end to resolve.

One evening, I drove down to the beach and stood on the sand, watching the surf splash back and forth across the shore. I removed the turquoise ring from my finger.

“We had a good run, Mort,” I said.

The puff of black smoke returned, and Mort stood beside me again.

“You sure you want to do this, sweetheart? There’s all sorts of good I can do for your friends if you hand me over to them. Give me to your pal Summer and I can free her from Chastity once and for all. Give me to Becky and I can make her dreams of fame and fortune a reality. For Ashley, you know I can make her into a man if that’s what she really wants. Or hand me to the love of your life and we’ll see what I can do for good old Johnny. The possibilities are endless.”

I giggled. “Sorry, Mort, that sounds like a lot of wishful thinking to me. Whatever it is that we want for ourselves, we’ll have to figure out how to get it ourselves, under our own power.”

Mort nodded. “Very well, sweetheart. Best of luck to you and yours.”

Mort disappeared in a puff of black smoke for the last time.

Summoning all my strength, I tossed the turquoise ring, gateway to an infinite number of possible realities, into the ocean. Then I turned around and walked back to enjoy the life I had spent so long wishing for without even knowing it.