Chapter Description: Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home
Like a lot of males, I have a common habit that I perform almost unconsciously when I’m waking up in the morning … I scratch my balls. But for some reason, I couldn’t find them this morning. I was rubbing against my crotch, but all I could feel was the material of whatever I was wearing from the night before. And it was odd that my feet were hanging over the end of the bed. I figured I was dreaming and went back to sleep.
About 15 minutes later, I opened my eyes and was comforted to see bunny rabbit next to me on the pillow. The digital clock on my night stand was blank, so I figured the power must still be out, but there was some natural light coming in through my bedroom window.
I reached down between my legs to try to scratch my balls again, but it still seemed like they were missing. What the hell? My clothing was smooth. Where was the bulge?
I had good reason to panic. This had never happened before, and my heart started racing. I had to get out of bed. I threw off the cover but I couldn’t balance my body and fell off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.
I tried to regain my coordination but I felt top heavy and managed to stumble a few feet toward my door. I finally said screw it, I had to find out. The shorts and underpants on my waist were unfamiliar. But I reached inside both to force my hand down between my legs.
“Uggh!! Shit!! They’re gone!! They really are gone!! I’ve been emasculated! How the fuck could this happen?! Sammantha must have done it! She must have come in to my room last night and cut off my penis and testicles while I was sleeping! And now I’m left with some horrific jagged opening between my legs!”
I was absolutely livid. “I’m gonna kill that Sammantha!” I managed to right myself and get into a standing position … But there, standing in the doorway, staring right at me … was Sammantha.
I fell back to the floor, overwhelmed with emotion, and I wailed at her tersely, “Are you gloating now, Sammantha? Is this what you wanted from the start? You strung me along, enough that you would gain my trust … and when the time was right, you ripped out my penis and balls so you could have them for yourself?”
My voice sounded weird … not sure why, but it didn’t sound like my boy’s voice. Sammantha remained silent.
I was on my hands and knees on the floor. I was filled with anguish. With my heavy breathing, I now figured out why I was so clumsy and top heavy. I ripped off my shirt and discovered a sports bra. “What the fuck?!! What the god damn fuck?!!”
I crossed my arms and ripped off the sports bra too. I shook my head at the sight. “This is horrible! I grew boobs overnight. How?!”
They weren’t especially large boobs, but I could tell they weren’t mine. “What is going on here? I’ve been turned into a Frankenstein monster.”
Mustering up some courage, I was determined to rise and face Sammantha. I did, but now she was topless too. What the hell? I rubbed my eyes for several seconds and then re-adjusted to the light in the room. Oh … my … god… I was standing in front of my bedroom door … in front of the full length mirror. I stuck my tongue out. The mirror image did the same.
I quickly took down my short pants and (this was sick) my panties. I reached out and touched the mirror. It was solid. So I came face to face with a horrid predicament … my worst nightmare … I had a vagina. I not only HAD a cunt. I WAS a cunt.
Holy shit, they didn’t just change my gender, they changed my body to look like Sammantha’s …. A chisled, steel frame with six-pack abs, and muscular boobs that I so admired when I looked at her…..So what the hell happened? ... Am I a clone? … reformed to resemble Sammantha? Then what happened to the real Sammantha? Wait a second. Is there a body in the other bedroom?
The jagged opening between my legs was utterly disgusting. It was worse than the St. Thomas Blob because it had attached itself to my body. I could see my face turn red with embarrassment as blood rushed to my groin in phony sexual arousal. My brain, functioning on autopilot actually thought I had an erection. So I quickly reached down to grab my penis, but came up empty-handed. It was gone and I still couldn’t believe it.
My fingers started probing the ‘hole’ and it gave me the shivers. It felt like the whole world was going to try to stick stuff in my hole … Every male on earth was going to try to fuck me now and I’d have to run around with my hands trying to cover up my hole.
From the start, my vagina looked messy. It had a whole bunch of squishy, wrinkled-skin masses and labia folds inside that didn’t have any rhyme or reason for being there. My right hand’s middle finger went spelunking for the clitoris. It had to be in the mess someplace. My pussy was getting wet inside, but from what? I hardly did anything.
It would have been easier to figure out my way around my cunt if I had a Google map and a compass. You know, a guy has two balls and a dick. What could be simpler? But a girl has a blob. Who would want a blob between their legs? And then the blob bleeds for five days … Won’t that be lovely?
With a bit of effort, I found my clitoris and got busy rubbing it.
“Wait a second. This is weird. It really does feel like the head of my penis. This almost feels like when I’m a boy jacking off. Hmm, I need to sit down and work on this.”
I laid back down on the bed and spread my legs apart, voluntarily this time. I grit my teeth and rubbed my clit vigorously for several minutes. The powerful urges building up in my groin felt similar to the pressure that I felt on my prostate as a boy. The pressure in my female loins finally reached a breaking point … and it happened … a forceful squeeze of my pelvic muscles and waves of sexual pleasure radiated through my unfamiliar body.
My brain thought I was ejaculating and I looked down … still no penis. Damn! But my cunt was pretty wet now with feminine lubrication or some other nonsense. I’ve heard that females can have multiple orgasms, but that would have to wait. Right now, I had to go pee.
The bathroom door was directly across from my bedroom door. I stepped into the hallway and reminded myself that there was probably a ‘body’ in the other bedroom that I needed to investigate … but peeing came first.
On my way to the toilet, I stopped in my tracks to gaze into the mirror. I started flexing like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Sammantha’s body was really ripped. I was ready to believe that she was the strongest woman in the world.
But I had to force myself not to hunch over because of the added weight of the boobs, though I had to admit they were a nice solid muscular variety. I took a minute to ‘feel myself up’. These two ‘girls’ were perfect, just like I always said. But never mind that. Women’s boobs gave them backaches … That’s another bad thing.
I always peed standing up, and saw no reason why a female shouldn’t be able to stand over a toilet and go. But it wasn’t quite that easy. My urine didn’t just go downward. The flow turned into a wild spray, similar to when you put your thumb over the spigot of a garden hose.
I quickly turned around and sat. This is disgusting. There must be some instruction manual on Youtube or Wikipedia showing how to do it. I needed a bunch of tissues to clean up my mess. I was starting to hate my changed body for a number of different reasons.
Aside from the multiple orgasms, everything else was bad. But the question still remained … how the hell did I get into Sammantha’s body?
I remembered how Dr. Seuss wrote about ‘thing one’ and ‘thing two’. Well, thing one, me, was bad enough … but thing two was still sleeping in the other room. And now I had to figure out what I was going to do about it.
I walked back into my bedroom and tried to put the same clothes back on. But I wouldn’t touch the dirty panties or the sports bra. Tighty whities in the drawer were really tight, but they’d have to do for now. And I put Sammantha’s shirt back on with visible nipples protruding … but who cares? Her tits were so perky, they actually looked great without a bra. And I kept her track shoes and short socks.
It was now the moment of truth. First of all, will there be a body in the bed? Secondly, is the body alive, and thirdly, who the hell is it? The door to Sammantha’s bedroom was partially open.
Wait a second. Didn’t I walk into her bedroom last night when we came home from the airport? And didn’t she walk into my boy’s bedroom first? My head was spinning. None of this made sense as I stepped into the larger bedroom.
I needed to step closer to the front in order to see what looked like a head of hair. I stood motionless and watched the covers rise and fall with breathing. Okay, so we do have a live body.
I very gently peeled back the cover. What I saw should not have surprised me. But it did anyway. I saw a beautiful little boy in a tee shirt and cargo shorts. He looked so angelic and peaceful with a big head of gorgeous brown hair. I was looking, of course, at myself, little Derrek.
For a moment, I thought that I must have been transported into a black-and-white episode of the TV show, The Twilight Zone. The host, Rod Serling, was standing next to me holding a cigarette, explaining to the audience how Derrek and Sammantha had been playing with fire and now they were going to get burned.
The boy’s tee shirt was riding somewhat higher, near his belly button, so it made sense that he had probably aged up from ten to eleven since the previous morning. Without hesitation, I ran to the bathroom to get one teaspoon of water and put it on his arm … to keep him from aging further.
For a moment, I thought I might be having an out-of-body experience. I’ve heard stories about when people die, they float up toward the ceiling and look down upon their own body before ascending to heaven. But that theory didn’t make a lot of sense here since I was looking down at myself between two ample breasts.
Still, I so wanted to hug the little guy and nurture him and keep him calm, so that when he awakes, he wouldn’t face the traumatizing, shocking events that I did ten minutes ago. I know it must sound narcissistic to love yourself, but I continued to look down tenderly at the sweet little boy that was me.
I could resist no longer. I started to ‘pet’ his hair as I would, a little dog. He began to stir a bit and let out a noise.
I stroked him further … around his bushy head and across his ear. His eyes fluttered open and I stopped.
The little boy turned and looked up at me and said, “Derrek, will you get that mirror out of my face? I’m still tired … Go away.” Then he grabbed the bed cover and re-threw it over his body.
Aww … The little guy’s voice was so interesting. I know people say they don’t sound the same on a recording, and that’s what I was hearing here … not the ‘Derrek’ voice I hear in my head all the time, but the one I’ve heard of myself on videos.
His response answered my biggest question. Who is he? He’s thinks he’s Sammantha. He thought my face was a mirror. However, that leaves me with quite a dilemma because I was the adult now. Between the two of us, I had to be the mature ‘big’ person until we figured out a way to switch back. Sammantha couldn’t drive or be, in any way, legally responsible for her new smaller body. It was all up to me to guide the two of us.
My only course now was to wake up the little boy and try to contain his horror when he discovers what he has become. Knowing Sammantha, I figured she would be absolutely mortified to find herself occupying the body of a child, and we’re not even taking into account the shock of a gender change.
I took the cover back a little and, reaching under his tee shirt, I gently rubbed his back in light circles. Then he made a similar moan as before.
For a few more moments, the little boy continued to doze peacefully.
All that changed in the next split second as the boy flipped over onto his back. I removed my hand. Then he quickly reached down with his right hand and grabbed the crotch on his cargo shorts.
The suddenness of his movements surprised me as I watched his body spring into a ‘sit-up’ position and his eyes become wide with wonder. He asked, “Do I have a penis?”
Stories of Age/Time Transformation