My stories can be a bit long and contains non-consent and incest.
"Oh my God," he moaned as he slowly woke, wishing he hadn't. Zac Knight's head was throbbing; a hangover, first class. Slowly, gently he rolled onto his back. He waited while the spinning stopped. His tongue licked dry lips. His mind refused to work, so he shut his eyes tight to try to doze off. He could vaguely recall last night; party, Halloween party. Fragments of recollection, some gorgeous blonde, arrogant bitch, bit of an argument over ... over? Something, who knows, who cares, then some freakish hag dressed up as a Halloween witch type person intervening. What did she say? Um, too hard. Something like 'if you can't agree then it seems there's only one way for you to know, to really know, yin and yang'. 'Enjoy your dream' ah, ha ha ha she cackled. Was that real or did he dream it. "Oh my fucking head," he moaned pulling the blanket over his head and going back to sleep.
When he woke later his head seemed a bit better, not much, but a little better thank God. The light was so bright the sun must be up. "God, how long have I slept?" he mumbled. His hands went to his face, brushed smooth skin, and then he pressed his knuckles to his forehead. The pain eased to murderous, good, he ran his fingers through his hair, it seemed unusually thick, unruly but everything seemed thick at that moment. "Never again, never again," he promised himself. He shaded his eyes from the glare and peeped through closed lids, "oh fuck," he moaned as the light seared his retinas. He squinted at the ceiling through half shut eyelids. His eyes moved slowly to the left, then to the right. "Where am I? Must have crashed somewhere, whose place? No idea," he confessed as his stomach lurched. It looked feminine, a girl's room. A smile slowly spread across his face. "Yeah, I guess I must have nailed that blonde bitch last night, woohoo, she was something special. Sexy as hell but such an arrogant bitch, she deserved to be slapped around a bit and fucked. They all react the same once you ram your cock up their ass. Fuck, it must have been good, I just wish I could remember it," he reflected.
A quick glance showed that he was alone; disappointed he gently pushed the blanket down. As he did, there was a nagging doubt at the edges of his mind: something wasn't quite right.
"Aaaarrrhhh," he screamed as he looked down the bed, past his breasts. Breasts: the shock of seeing breasts. "I don't have breasts," his mind screamed at him. He literally jumped up, his head throbbing as he pushed himself back against the headboard. His jaw dropped open in shock. His hands were trembling; his small, delicate, perfectly manicured hands with red nail polish on the finger nails were trembling with fear. He pulled the top of his bikini pj's open, his eyes boggling at the sight of his full breasts. At any other time, he would have admired those full, firm breasts. He did last night, but not today.
God this is a lousy dream,
the thought went through his mind. Fighting a growing terror, he swung his legs, his smooth, shaved, slim legs over the side of the bed and staggered to the dressing table beside the bed.
"No, noooo it can't be, it's not possible," he whispered, and he could hear the terror in his voice as he looked in the full length mirror at the image of the blonde girl he was arguing with last night. He could feel a pain in his chest and he labored to breathe as he stared at his image. It was her, she did this, it had to be. What he saw, was what attracted him last night. A pretty face, framed by long luxurious blonde hair, messed up at the moment, but trailing down to the small of his back. A lock on the left side was hanging forward, seductively over one breast. Piercing pale blue eyes, pert nose and full lips gave the finishing touches to a face that would attract the attention of any male. Five foot six, blonde, her breasts were full and firm, part of an overall gorgeous figure. Slim hips, flat, tight stomach and long, slender legs. She was beautiful: but she was not him. For some moments, he stared transfixed at the image in the mirror, terrified, shaking uncontrollably.
He couldn't move, frozen to the spot, he simply stared at the image in front of him as he grappled with the demons at the edges of his sanity. Then an unwanted feminine instinct shook his body and one tear, quickly followed by a flood of tears coursed down his cheeks. He was more confused. He struggled to comprehend what was happening to him. Him, he knew it was him, but he was in this female body, him, the essence of him, his mind, his feelings, his memories: all him, yet suddenly he was aware of her memories too, her emotions. He could access her some of her memories as well. He started to freak out.
"Christ, I'm going insane," he uttered, "Someone must have spiked my drink, something. This isn't happening, this can't be happening."
Struggling through the shock and horror, he knew that he was now in this female's body. The essence of him, the maleness, his personality, it was all there, but he was trapped, in this female body. He also knew that her essence was gone, he controlled the body. However, he was acutely aware that her memories, her value set and the elements of her femininity remained, although the strength of his maleness overwhelmed the remnants of her. He was a male trapped in a female's body, sharing the space. It was too much and he could hear the sobs from her female emotions wracking his body as he stood and looked forlornly at himself in the mirror. On another day, he might have appreciated her beauty, but not today.
On shaking legs, he staggered back to the bed and lowered himself to a sitting position. In a daze, he slowly pulled the neck of his pj's forward and without any emotion stared at the two lumps sticking out from his chest. With knowing certainty, he stood and pulled his bikini pyjama pants down and looked in stunned silence at the neatly trimmed bush of hair that smoothly curved down between his legs where his cock used to be. He heard his feminine side sobbing quietly and he wanted to join it.
As he stared at his new body, he was overwhelmed with emotion. In total despair, he collapsed back on his bed. It took about 10 minutes for his feminine side to stop sobbing. Then he started to think. He tried, but couldn't remember anything beyond that Halloween witch getting involved in an argument he was having with that blond bitch. It was all a blank. He had no idea how he got home, how he got to bed, nothing. Just waking up. Then he realised that if he was in her body then perhaps she was in his body. There must be way to fix this.
He reached for his handbag. His handbag! Why did the thought come so easily to him? Her memories. Fumbling around inside, he pulled out her phone. Staring at it for a moment he nervously punched in his number and waited as the phone rang.
He nearly wept as he heard the phone engage and he heard his own male voice answer, "Hello."
It took a moment before he could speak.
"Um hello, who is that ... is that Zac Knight's phone?" he asked, aware of the uncertain quiver in his new female voice.
Then the quiet but controlled response.
"Yes it is," I responded. "And I assume that you are Brandy Holmes?"
