Chapter 3 - Meeting John
When she woke up, it took Jane a couple of moments to figure out where she was. She was lying on a strange bed, sunlight flooding into an unfamiliar bedroom with a warm body lying next to her. Her head was throbbing with pain and she felt the need to go find a water faucet and drink it dry.
Everything hit her with the intensity and suddenness of a bullet. All sorts of images, mostly of the drunken, naked kind, started bombarding her brain. She realized what she had done the night before, what had been done to her and she let out a groan and started rubbing her temples. Her heart started racing as she realized that she might have forever altered her relationship with Amy, and maybe not for the better. Still, it was hard not to want to revisit some of the highlights of their sexual encounter.
She started to remember the feel of Amy's lips on her own and picturing her riding her wildly into her first real orgasm. She started to feel a warmth spreading to her crotch. And for some strange reason a different kind of tingling than she was used to. She continued to revisit the moment when Amy had finally taken her virginity and a rich, thick sensation started spreading to her nether regions. She wondered if all those new sensations were the consequence of the events of the night before; if things would always feel different from this point on.
She turned on her side to face Amy who was sleeping peacefully, and frankly, gracefully. Her stirrings started to intensify in a new, unexpected way. For some reason she felt like she was being physically pulled towards her, like her crotch was all of a sudden magnetized and had an urge to crush against Amy's body.
"Ugh," she thought. "I think I just turned into a big slut."
One of Amy's breasts was popping out of her covers and Jane couldn't help herself. She started to gently caress it, flicking the nipple with her thumb. Amy started to stir and and moan lightly. All of a sudden all Jane could think of was a repeat of the previous night, as soon as possible.
Amy opened her eyes and her eyes locked in with Jane. "Good Morning, sweetie," Jane whispered.
A look of shock and surprise started forming in Amy's eyes, which suddenly grew as big as saucers. She jumped out of bed as if it had suddenly been made of needles.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Amy demanded, with a sharp tone of controlled panic.
Jane shot her friend a puzzled look. What was she talking about? Was she starting to regret the night before?
"I... I guess I spent the night here," Jane offered, feeling confused and a little hurt. "I hope that's okay."
Amy scrambled around the room and gathered some clothes on her. She headed to a writing desk on the other side of the room and opened a box that was placed on it. Before Jane could even begin to understand the situation, Amy had turned around and was pointing a gun at her.
"Amy! What the hell are you doing?" Shouted Jane, getting on her feet, draping a sheet around her naked body "Put that away right now! What the fuck's gotten into you?"
"Okay, dude, the gun's not going anywhere until you answer some questions. So you can start by telling me who are you and right after that you have to tell me where Jane is." Her tone turned suddenly icy and she spat out: "And if she's in any way hurt, this gun is going to be the least of your troubles."
Jane started wondering if maybe she was dreaming or still so drunk that maybe she was hallucinating. The sheet she had fastened around her chest fell to her feet, as if her breasts were unable to support it. "Amy, I have no idea what you're are playing at, or what's going on. Just put the gun away and we can work this out. Please, please calm down."
Amy did not stand down. "Who are you? I'm asking one last time. Next time the cops will be doing all the asking."
"What are you talking about? It's fucking me, Ames. Jane? Your best friend since birth? The woman you had wild sex with last night? Any of this ringing a bell?"
Amy pursed her lips. "Nice try, idiot. So what, were you listening to us last night? Were you glued to the door and figured this would be a good opportunity? Turns out out I'm not that gullible. Neither is Jane, so I know that you must have done something to her."
Jane felt like her entire world was spinning. Words were coming out of Amy's mouth but they were not making any sense. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, fearing that she would faint if she didn't. Her penis flopped and hit the side of her thigh.
She jolted to her feet. She had a penis. A dull panic set in and she started breathing fast, fearing that she was maybe having a stroke. She could not have a dick. There was no such thing as "magic" and women did not turn into men over night, no matter how many gypsy incantations they recited or how many drunken "rituals" they performed.
She tentatively reached for the limp member hanging between her legs and she noticed that her hand was completely foreign to her. It was darker, certainly much bigger and was noticeably missing the intricate manicured nails she had procured a couple of days before. She poked at her penis with a finger felt a bizarre jolt, which meant it was definitely attached to her body. She looked around the room and located a full length mirror in a corner and she ran to it, noticing that her center of gravity was entirely wrong.
She positioned herself in front of the mirror and gasped in horror. Looking back at her was a nude man.
John stood almost a foot taller than Jane had, which placed him at around six feet. He had the same athletic build as his female counterpart but his body was in no way soft, though it was still quite inviting. His torso descended into a pack of tight abs that lead into a solid arrow formed by his hip bones, all incredibly defined. The arrow turned into a mass of black, curly hair that framed a penis. A penis slightly longer than anything Jane had seen before.
"Amy, oh my God, look at me! What the hell is going on? What happened to me?" She started demanding in a blind panic in a voice that she noticed was several octaves lower than her usual one.
Amy walked to John, still pointing the handgun at him, although he could see that there was a shadow of a doubt starting to creep in her eyes. "Drop the act. I'm calling the cops. Find your clothes if you don't want to take a naked ride on the cop car."
John turned around and stared at Amy. He realized that he could easily overpower her. They were standing just a couple feet away and his body felt powerful and limber. He knew that he could take that gun away from her before she had a chance to think to pull the trigger and besides--
Besides, the gun wasn't exactly loaded was it?
Without breaking eye contact, John put his hands up in the aire and started moving in the direction of the vintage dresser that she... he, had helped Amy pick up when she had decided to redecorate what had once been her grandparents master bedroom in the cabin. Amy followed him, with a confused expression that was still deadly determined. When they were both standing in front of the dresser, John spoke softly, both hands still in the air. "Remember when you took the bullets out of the gun your grandparents kept for safety and you put them in the third drawer, inside that ball of old blue wool socks? And remember when I told you to at least keep one bullet in the chamber because rapists rarely ever wait for you to retrieve your toasty socks and load up your self-defense weapon?"
Amy gasped and her jaw dropped.
"Ames," John continued. "You can feel free to keep pointing at me while you find the bullet sock ball. And I won't move while you load up the chambers. And you can keep aiming that thing at me, for as long as you think you need to start believing that some more literal kind of magic took place last night than our love-making."