One of my secret fantasies that I've never told anyone is my desire to live one day as a woman so that I can know what it's really like to have lesbian sex. It's such an enormous frustration to have this desire for woman-on-woman contact and be forever denied a truly immersive role. While a man may join two women in sexual play, he can never be one of them and must always be only an observer of that special connection between two women, never a participant. And so I present this little tale wherein my ultimate fantasy is realized...
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"Mmm, that's it, lover... oh, lick my clit, I'm going to come... don't stop... please don't stop!"
I watched as the hot, slutty blonde arched her back high and climaxed hard, squealing and moaning her delight as her sultry brunette lover sucked and licked hungrily at her pussy. When she was finally spent, the two women held and kissed each other tenderly, letting their tongues and lips caress while they held one another's naked bodies in a hot picture of lesbian lust.
The scene faded to black, and the credits began to roll. I switched off the TV with a sigh of resignation and tossed aside a tube sock which was, regrettably, still perfectly fit to wear. Eighty minutes of lesbian porn had just utterly failed to get me off. Instead of exciting me as it once did, the sight of two women fucking each other had become a source of unassailable frustration. I glared accusingly at my semi-erect cock, knowing that as long as I possessed such an appendage, my thirst for lesbian love - the real, true experience - could never be satisfied.
I had tried what I could, starting at a young age with Penthouse magazines and then renting or buying videos as soon as I was old enough to do so. The advent of the Internet in my early twenties expanded my lesbian porn collection considerably, and after several years I had amassed over a hundred thousand images and at least eight hundred video clips (my favorites were the few that I found which showed lesbian sex from the first-person perspective of one of the two women involved). As time went on, I discovered the two-on-one lapdance, and that more often than not the girls would let you touch them, so I began to fuel my fantasies with actual experience. Finally, I reached the pinnacle when I had my first real threesome with a couple of hired escorts.
And that was as far as I could go. I knew I had hit a brick wall, and could never really have actual lesbian sex.
Of course, I never told anyone about this unquenchable need. I knew that it would be misunderstood, and that anyone would assume that I was a transsexual or something. That wasn't it at all! I simply wanted to fully indulge myself in my favorite fantasy, and know what a woman felt when she made love to another woman. I considered some pretty wild schemes, like hiring a whore and asking her to treat me like a woman (which sounded pretty stupid to me), or cross-dressing and putting on makeup so I could at least kiss another girl and pretend to be one myself (which sounded even stupider). I started going into sex chatrooms and assuming a woman's role, having lesbian cybersex with other people who were probably also lying about their identity, but that got old pretty fast.
I had pretty much accepted the idea that my role in a lesbian sexcapade would be always limited to that of an observer until one very strange night when I woke up to the shock of my life.
Let me clarify that for a moment - to this day, I'm not 100% certain that I really woke up. I'd been feeling out of sorts that day and so went to bed at about 6:00 PM. My sleep had been plagued by strange dreams, some of them erotic, some just plain surreal. I know that something happened that night between midnight and four AM, but it's entirely possible that I was hallucinating the key elements. Since I didn't take any pictures or talk to anyone I know, it'll always remain a mystery.
I didn't know what had happened at first, just that I awoke with a curious new overall sensation that didn't go away. I didn't feel sick any more, but there was something definitely not right; a heaviness in my chest, a slight weakness, and when I swung my legs to the floor the bed seemed like it had gotten two inches higher during the night.
I rubbed my eyes and stepped carefully through the dark to the bathroom, only to find a naked woman in there with me.
I jumped back, nearly stumbling over the tub and falling flat on my ass. The realization that I'd seen a reflection made me look around to see where this strange woman was, and when my hair whipped me in the face I just about lost my head. Somehow, I kept from screaming out loud.
Struggling to my feet, I slapped my hand on the lightswitch and stared at the astonished, undeniably feminine face that looked back at me from the mirror.
The strangeness of what I saw was beyond description. It was me, no doubt about it. The same eyes, and the same skin tone and hair color. My face was a bit slimmer and more delicate, but it was my face - even the little scar on my chin was still there, though the stubble I'd gone to bed with wasn't. My hair had inexplicably grown from a 1/2-inch buzzcut to flowing waves that reached the middle of my back.
I noticed all these details shortly after I got over the idea of the C-cups attached to my chest.
They were nice, no doubt about it. Round and firm, with wide pink nipples. I touched them and they were real. My hands traveled down my body, feeling a waist that had grown slimmer, hips that had become wider, legs that were smooth as silk. And between my legs...
No doubt about it - Johnson was gone. I didn't yet dare to touch what had taken his place, but there was no denying what the mirror told me, especially since it was shaved smooth.
Oddly enough, once the panic of my initial reaction faded, I found myself calm and collected. If I had awakened and found a large bruise on my shoulder or something, I would have been more agitated than I was to find myself gender-switched. Perhaps it was simply that my brain had no idea what to do with a situation like this one.
I came to several decisions at once.
One was that I would definitely not wake up my wife. If I had gone insane and was imagining this, I somehow didn't want it confirmed. If it was real, she would absolutely freak out in much the same way I probably would if she suddenly became a man, and that wouldn't do either of us any good.
Two was that I was not going to just go back to sleep. There was every possibility that I'd been given the chance of a lifetime, the opportunity to see things from a previously unknowable perspective, and I was damned if I would give it up.
Three was that a previously impossible fantasy had come within my reach.
I raided my wife's wardrobe for anything I could wear, my own clothes having become both too large and too masculine. I was a good fourteen inches taller than my wife as a man; my transformation seemed to have shortened me by about half that amount. Fortunately, we seemed to have the same waist size, and in a few minutes I was dressed in a pair of her shorts, one of my own T-shirts tied off at the waist, and some sandals that were too large for her and too small for me. The bra I was forced to go without, but my new breasts felt firm enough to hold their own without support.
Speaking of which, the novelty of having my own breasts proved too fascinating to just pass over. I spent a minute or so holding and stroking them, squeezing gently, and enjoying the greater sensitivity of my new nipples. It was a self-indulgent moment, but it taught me a few things about breasts that I suppose only direct experience can show. My gender-switch was proving usefully educational almost from moment one. After only a few minutes, I gained enormous insight on how to properly pleasure a woman through her tits.
I tried to tie back my hair but proved hopeless at it, and in the end just brushed it and let it hang loose. Makeup was also a problem. I had seen my wife apply it to herself hundreds of times, but there's a world of difference between seeing it done and doing it. Fortunately, her skin tone varies with the season, and I was able to find a base shade that matched me among her discards. I cringed away from the mascera but managed to apply eyeshadow and a brush of blush. The lips were no difficulty, and I took the liberty of using a bright red gloss that I had given her some time ago. In the end, I managed to do a presentable job, and I looked good enough for a night on the town.
It had been just about midnight when I'd awakened, and by the time I was done getting ready to go out it was getting close to one o'clock. I borrowed a purse from my wife, stuffed it with my hidden cash stash (which I used for buying porn and taking to titty bars) and left the house quietly. I noticed with some amusement that my nipples hardened in the night air and that it felt really good. I thought about what it would be like to have a pretty woman suck them, and felt a new sensation between my legs, a tingling that was nothing like the surge of a growing hard-on but more like a pleasant itch that needed massaging.
