Note to reader: The eroticism of this story is, hopefully, in the mental images evoked; it does not have explicit descriptions of sexual acts. If you're looking for that, you will find this story unsatisfying.
........
For a long time, women have been viewed by men in unrealistic ways -- often placed on a pedestal as models of pure love, warmth and charity. Not to be outdone, women also viewed men unrealistically -- albeit less flatteringly -- as brutes, lacking sensitivity and feeling.
Fair to say, both views are distortions. Each sex has its share of flaws and virtues. But for the most part, men and women remain a mystery to each other. If only, as the saying goes, one could walk a mile in the other person's shoes. Or for the purposes of this story, perhaps swap bodies for a day?
What's that? For that to happen, you'd need some sorcery. And sorcery is the stuff of olden days' myths, of fantasy. Right?
Melissa and I were archeologists, in Cairo for a university expedition exploring a newly discovered tomb outside the city limits. One of the last unexplored areas was a room next to the burial crypt of an Egyptian Pharaoh, which held his possessions. On a shelf in the room was an ornate box. Written on the outside, in hieroglyphics, were the words, "Share this potion and you will know your loved one for the first time." We opened the box and inside was a clay container encased in what appeared to have been bees wax -- obviously designed to keep the container air tight, so nothing could escape or intrude in.
We brought the container back to the laboratory in Cairo. When it was shaken, we could hear liquid inside. Using a small drill, a miniscule hole was bored into the clay. With a hypodermic needle, the few ounces of liquid inside were extracted.
The liquid was placed into a test tube. Lab tests to discern its contents suggested a solution of wine with some combination of minerals and herbs. But more importantly, we had no idea what it was for.
After a few weeks, our part in the exploration was complete and Melissa and I prepared to fly back to the US. We would take the test tube with us for further study.
Now, I should mention that Melissa and I had become close, working side by side. Close, as in lovers. She is a beautiful woman, almost as tall as me with auburn hair and full breasts and all the requisite curves. I fell for her on the plane flight over. We were preparing to go to bed in the hotel that last evening, discussing the mystery of the liquid.
"The lab tests have shown that there is nothing harmful in the liquid," Melissa said. "But what is it that made it so important to have been included in the Pharoh's tomb?"
"I don't know," I replied. "But Egyptian mythology suggests that Royal couples can explore the other's soul through some magic enabled by the priests. Something they called Transmutation. Referenced in a few scripts, but not well defined. Maybe it's related to that idea."
"I'd be ok exploring your soul," Melissa said sweetly.
"Well, you can swallow some if you want," I said. "But I'm not a human guinea pig."
"You don't want to know my inner being?" she asked with a sad face. I couldn't tell if she was teasing me or was genuinely upset.
"No, no, not that at all," I recovered. "I'm just too much of a coward to experiment."
Nothing more was said. Later that night, we sat in our darkened hotel room, lit only by the light of a full moon. We made a toast with our wine glasses to the success of our expedition. And we made love. Sweet, last night, going home tomorrow, sex. Then we fell asleep.
When I awoke the next morning to the sun streaming in the window, I swung my legs out of the sheets and sat up on the bed. I was startled to see that all the hair on my legs had been shaven off. The legs were perfectly smooth! And thin! I shook my head to clear the fog and stared again at my legs. These were not my legs!
"Holy shit," I exclaimed, which sound awakened Melissa. I turned to see her and I was startled to see stubble on her face. Not her face, though, it was my face! I was staring at myself, lying next to me. Then I noticed my breasts.
"Oh my God, Oh my God," I kept repeating. "What in the world?"
Melissa was now fully awake and horrified to hear her own voice coming from me, and to see that my body was her body.
"No, no, no" she kept repeating. "How stupid am I!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I added a few drops of the liquid to our wine last night. Just as a joke."
'Are you insane?" I asked, not sweetly. I moved to grab her, to shake her in anger. Her brawny arms intercepted me.
"Don't be angry with me," she said with contrition. But my anger was irrelevant; her muscular grip rendered me powerless.
"I'm weak like a woman!" I exclaimed, with some horror.
"That's not a nice thing to say," Melissa replied, defensive over her sex being demeaned.
"We need to think, we need to think," I said. "This can't be real."
I pulled off my pajama top and cupped "my" bare breasts in my hands, moving them around to gauge their weight and texture. Pressing on the nipples to see how sensitive they are. I pulled on the nipples, stretching the breasts out as far as they'd go.
"What are you doing?" Melissa asked me. "Are you an exhibitionist?"
"Are you serious?" I replied. "I have breasts. Guys don't have breasts."
"I know, but it's nasty the way you're displaying them."
"Well," I answered, "aren't you curious about your penis?"
"I have a penis?" she said with surprise. She clearly hadn't fully processed this new reality.
She lowered her pajama bottoms and there it was, nestled like a snake in a curly mass of black pubic hair. She cried out.
"Oh my God, no, no, no! I don't want this!"
She roughly manipulated the testicles and learned the hard way that they are very sensitive.
"Ouch. How do you live with this?" she asked.
"This is a nightmare, but until we can figure out an antidote to that liquid, we're going to have to learn about each other's body -- before we do some harm to ourself," I said.
We each spent time exploring our new body. Melissa stood in front of the mirror and pulled on the penis and cupped the testicles. She felt the muscles of "her" chest, and the buttocks. She flexed the muscles like a weight lifter, getting to know her strength. I spread the lips of the vagina, exploring with my fingers, pressing on the clitoris, to see what sensations it provided. I massaged the breasts and marveled at their weight. No wonder women wear bras.
Melissa was making her own revelations. "It's a little disconcerting that this thing changes shape. But I feel the pleasurable sensations that flow from the tip," she said, rubbing that organ, causing it to stir with her manipulation.
"It feels best when it's inserted into a vagina," I offered. I was just being clinical. The scientist in me.
"I beg your pardon. Do you want sex at this moment when we're both still in shock? Guys are sex maniacs, unbelievable."
"But I'm not a guy. I'm you. I've got a vagina."
"Your mind is still a guy's. There is no way I'm screwing you, I mean myself. That's too weird."
We got dressed, with each assisting the other in the choice of clothes. Melissa helped me chose a nice push-up bra; no reason not to look good. While I've had my share of experience in removing bras, I was a novice at putting one on. Melissa showed me how to fasten it in the front and then spin it around.
The first thing we did was call the airline and switch our flight to one a few days later. There was no way we could travel until we sorted this out.
We went down to get breakfast in the hotel's restaurant. The waiter held the chair out for me as I went to sit down. I almost swatted him away until I realized that that's what happens to ladies. Then I noticed his eyes looking down my top as he helped push the chair in. I guess that's also what happens to ladies.
"Should I have leaned forward to give him a better look?" I joked with Melissa when the waiter had gone.
"Very funny. Listen up, I have a reputation to maintain," she said. "Everyone's going to think I'm a floozy if you start giving people a show."
"I hadn't considered that before," I said. "I can be as wanton and indiscreet as I want to be ... and it's a reflection on you, not me.
"Don't get cute, buddy," she said. "If you ruin my reputation, you may find yourself in jail for pinching women's behinds."
"But it won't be me; it will be you."
"Damn," she said, "I've got to get a grip on this ass-backwards situation. Am I you, and you me; or are we still the same person, just temporarily in another body?"
"I have no idea," I said. And that was the truth.
After we had eaten, I needed to use the restroom. I walked to the restaurant's restroom area and from a lifelong habit walked into the men's room. There was a man in there, using the urinal, whose eyes got big as saucers when he saw me. He gave it a quick shake and hurriedly tucked it away from my female eyes.
I realized my mistake and hustled out and into the ladies' room. I went into a stall and sat there, breathing heavy. That was a close call. I need to be focused on who I am -- whoever that is.
