This is a Transformation story where a man transforms into a female celebrity (Mila Kunis) and as such has elements from a number of categories, including Transsexuals, Sci-fi/Fantasy, Mind Control, Celebrities and interracial. Enjoy!
EDIT - This story has gotten the lowest ratings of any I have written, and I guess that is because it wound up in the Celebrities category, thus getting to an audience that has other expectations than the intended one.
So, be WARNED, gender swapping ahead!
*****
Six months ago I started going to this new gym, and paid extra for a personal trainer. The only one available that could fit in with my work schedule was the owner, a huge black guy named Marcus. When I say huge, I mean HUGE; 6' 7", broad shoulders, and arms thicker than my thighs. When I first saw him he scared me, but he turned out to be really nice, and we soon became friends. I'm the whitest guy I know, and having an older (he's 35) black friend was really cool to me.
My girlfriend had cheated on me with my supposed best friend a few months before, and it turned out my other friends knew, but didn't tell me, so I was very lonely at this stage of my life. This lead to me becoming very dependent on Marcus's friendship and I soon started hanging out with him and his friends almost every day. My only other friend was my older sister, my dad traded my mom in for a younger model when I was about 10, and mom began popping pills after that, so it was just me and my big sister Amber after that.
I guess I should tell you a bit about me. My name is Miles Johnson, I'm 28 and I'm a normal middle class white guy, working in middle management at a tech company. The pay is good, but I hate it, getting shit from the people below me and being used as a stepping stone by the higher ups. Physically, I'm average in every way; average height, average looks, a few pounds to many, at least before training with Marcus, and I have brown hair and brown eyes.
It was 8 p.m. on a Friday, we were just done with my workout and he was closing up while I was stretching my sore muscles. Marcus has part of the upper floor as a living area so we would just head upstairs and play some PS3 when he was done. He was complaining about the fact that he hadn't gotten any in a while, saying, "Man, I almost wish I didn't dump Shawna, I mean, she was fucking mental, but at least I got some pussy."
"It's been like three weeks for you, dude, I haven't had sex in like nine months!" I said exasperated. I finished my last stretch and we headed towards the back stairs as he answered, "Well, that's kind of your fault; when we go out I never see you try to get a girl. Even though you have become pretty fit, you're, no offence, plain as fuck, and no girl is going to notice you if you don't try," said Marcus. He was like that sometimes, not mean, but very direct.
"Yeah, well... okay, so I've been a bit gun-shy since Amy, but I just start thinking, what if she's like Her, every time I consider a girl. I still miss that closeness though, fuck, I can't really sleep right without someone to share my bed," I said.
I crashed down on the couch in his living room and started turning on the media center as he headed into the kitchen. He answered from there, "I guess we'll just have to find someone you know you can trust. Hey, you want some water?"
"Yeah, thanks!"
When he came back into the room he handed me this old, ornate clay cup and said, "Here you go. I haven't done my dishes so that was all I had left. Be gentle though, it was my great grandma's, from Africa." I nodded, grabbed the cup with both hands, closed my eyes and downed the water in one go. For some reason the water tasted better than ever before, and if I had had my eyes open, I would have seen it glow faintly. I put the cup down on the coffee table and said, "Damn, that was good! Now, let's play!"
A few minutes into the game I started itching and feeling a bit warm, especially on my chest and crotch, but I focused on the game, thinking that it was just the sweat drying from my workout, or maybe that new detergent. Marcus seemed distracted, I beat him a few times in a row, which never happens when we play Tekken, and I noticed him looking at me expectantly. Every time I surreptitiously tried to scratch my itch, Marcus noticed and smiled. I was thinking that maybe he had pulled some bad practical joke, put itching powder in my clothes or something, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of me.