Strange Saturday!, Parts 1-2 (Platonic Friends to TG’d Couple) (Patreon)

Been too long since we had a nice ongoing story for our Deluxe Tier, wouldn't you say?

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for AnubisForever

Luke and Ava are two platonic friends who confess their feelings of unhappiness with their bodies while attending a music festival together. But when they make a wish to be their ‘true selves’, they quickly find out that not only can wishes come true, but they can come true in utterly unexpected ways! Now stuck as Luna and Aidan, the pair must grapple with their changed identities and strange new feelings for one another, all while exploring their newfound existences, and bodies . . .

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Strange Saturday!

Part 1: Saturday Wish

I wasn’t going to let it sour my mood, but then why did I step on the scale this morning if not to ruin my mood? It wasn’t like I was obese or anything. Hell, I was pretty sure I wasn’t even fat. But there’s just something about getting into your forties and having to come to terms with the fact that you don’t have the energy you used to, nor can you shed weight like you used to either. I’d always considered myself a pretty average guy in terms of appearance. I doubt anyone looked at me and went oh man, that Luke Gavins is one big stud, but I always got by knowing I was perhaps on the better side of average. Now, I was starting to feel a bit at odds with my body: it was getting just a little more sluggish, a little more hefty round the middle, and my brown beard was starting to get a few little grey hairs that were starting to make me panic. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been the biggest issue in the world if not for where I was.

“Wow, we kinda stand out here, huh?”

I turned to Ava, who had her arms folded as she surveyed the crowd of much, much younger music-goers. It was the Saturday Blitz, the big music festival of the year, and we tried to go annually together. Ava had been my best friend for ages. A lot of people felt we should be dating but after a very brief and unexciting fling decades ago we thought otherwise. There was no real attraction or spark there, but I’d always enjoyed her easy company. Where I could be high-strung and anxious, she was a cool cucumber. Where I was always picking up new hobbies, she was perfectly satisfied with a good hike or a camping experience, or just the mead-crafting she had started up in her basement. She gave off that nonchalant vibe: she never wore makeup, kept her light brown hair fairly short, and tended to dress down. There was never a woman who loved a casual hoodie more than her, I was certain. And the slight southern twang in her voice only aided that relaxed vibe.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought, Ava,” I said. “What did you say?”

She gestured to the crowd. “I said that this is the first year I feel like I’m sticking out from the crowd, leastwise more than usual.”

“Yeah,” I said, exhaling. The music festival was not far from beginning. It was an open-day festival rather than a packed concert affair, but a crowd was forming towards the central stage and away from the stalls, ready for the opening act. It was impossible not to notice that we were a pair of forty-three year olds starting to look a little over the hill, while almost everyone else were in their teens and twenties. Oh, sure, there were others who were older too, but for once I no longer felt like part of the crowd, but outside of it. An irregularity. An anomaly.

“Hey, Earth to Luke! Y’all okay?”

I scratched the back of my head. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Ava smirked, and placed her hands on her hips. Some of the guys she had dated in the past before she settled on the single life had called her ‘plain-faced’ and ‘average,’ and while I couldn’t disagree - hence my lack of attraction to her - there was no denying that she had a special magnetism when she was in full interrogation mode. 

“Nuh-uh, there’s something else going on right now, I can see that! What’s on your mind, partner?”

I chuckled. She always went ‘full southern’ when narrowing her eyes at someone. 

“Okay, well, this is gonna sound crazy, but I guess it’s just what you mentioned, about us sticking out.”

“I only thought it was funny, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know, I was actually thinking about it before you mentioned anything. I guess I’m just fully realising I’m one of those old guys at the festival for young folk now.”

“Luke, we’re both forty three years old. We’re not exactly one foot in the grave here.”

“But you said it, we stick out from the crowd. I guess I’m just feeling a bit-”

A guitar chord was struck, and the crowd cheered - a lot of young voices emanating from people who were much bolder than I. Certainly, I was just in a shirt and jeans, but the crowd had a multicoloured vibrancy to it.

“Let’s put a pin in this and chat later,” Ava said, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me forward. “Looks like King Moth is playing.”

It was a nice breather from my anxious thoughts. I wasn’t the biggest King Moth fan and neither was Ava, but you couldn’t deny the band could work a crowd. At some point Ava put a beer in my hand, and after a silent cheers we began drinking, and I even sang the chorus with the crowd, engaging with the energy of it. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit like an outsider, and that I was simultaneously overdressed and underdressed. Hell, just looking at some of the clothes even the gals in their early thirties were wearing was making me feel like an old fogey desperate to kick the kids off of my lawn.

“Okay, you big lug,” Ava said, punching me playfully on the shoulder. “Are you feeling happier now? Lost the melancholy? Ditching the sad?”

The music was still playing, but we’d retreated to the stall to grab some hotdogs and further drinks in the meantime. The food was improving my mood, but I needed to get something off of my chest, too.

“I’m getting there,” I said, taking a bite of my hotdog before adding some much-needed mustard. “Okay, cards on the table.”

“Deal me in, partner,” she said, deliberately amping up her accent.

“I stepped on the scales this morning and didn’t like what I saw.”

“Yeah, you’re a real whale, Luke.”

“I know, I’m not that big. But I’ve been good lately, and I still put on weight. And I saw the grey hairs in my beard and the bags under my eyes. I know guys aren’t meant to be all self-obsessed, especially with image, but-”

At that point Ava scoffed. “Please! Guys are even more obsessed with image than gals, y’all just don’t do anything about it. But this isn’t you just not liking what’s in the mirror, Luke. You’ve complained about it before but never gotten all saggy over it. Hell, I’m starting to sprout greys and I can tell you, casual as I am, I’m not a fan. So what’s this really about?”

I couldn’t help but give a wan smirk. Ava always did have me figured out. I occasionally thought that if she were more my type and me hers, we could have made a great couple. Or perhaps a terrible one. Some people can be too insightful.

I put down my food and drink and looked her square in the eyes. “I don’t know how else to put it, so I guess I’ll just say it. You ever get the feeling that you were born in the wrong body? Or in the wrong circumstances? Or both?”

Ava nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do. I get that.”

“You do?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so surprising?”

“I guess I just thought . . . you’re always so self-assured. You know who you are. I’ve never really felt like that at all.”

“Fair,” she said. “But the thing about being a nature gal, Luke, is that you get a lot of time with your thoughts. That’s a lot of time to be at peace with yourself, but also time to wish you’d travelled the other fork in the road, as it were. So yeah, I get you. I look in the mirror too and don’t always like what I see. I’ve never really given much of a shit about putting effort into my appearance, but maybe I should be, ya know? Maybe I could have been a bit prettier, or wore more sunscreen, or tried some new hobbies like you always do.”

“Please, I go through them like nothing else.”

Ava giggled. “The model train period was a dark time for you.”

“You take that back. My train setup was excellent. I came third in the Steam Display and it was my first time entering.”

We shared a laugh before she replied.

“Look, all I mean is that I’m kinda jealous of the passion you’ve always got. I do feel like sometimes I’m hiking through life on a kind of low-effort mode. I wish I could tick like someone else for a change, someone who burned with passion like these kids do. And hell, just to go back to what you were talking about earlier, I’m not loving getting older either. Heh, maybe we’re just reaching a mid-life crisis. Does work tie into this?”

That made me exhale. She’d gotten to another root cause of this.

“You’d be right to suspect. I’ve been seriously contemplating quitting the bank.”

“I thought you were angling for a promotion? It took you ages to get that managerial position as it was.”

“I just don’t . . . care anymore. It’s the same thing each day. I used to tell myself it was just a way to pay for my hobbies, but now it feels like it eats away at my life.”

“Yeah, I can see that. You know, it’s a funny thing, but I’ve been feeling the same about the photography gig.”

I sat up straight at that. “What? That’s your passion. An actual passion.”

She just shrugged. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been doing it for years. But it’s not making what it used to, and I’m having to go to weddings and birthdays to compensate now. It’s all banal. And the worst part is I can’t seem to get a good photo anymore: a tree is just a tree at a certain point, and I swore I’d never try to see life that way.”

The silence echoed loudly between us. Over at the stage, a new band was up, probably Piping Hot Lead from the sounds of it. They weren’t bad, but like everything else at the moment, it was for the younger crowd.

“Maybe we’re both just wishing for a fresh start and a new life,” I said.

“Maybe so,” Ava replied.

Again, that silence echoed. In the background, the crowd began to cheer, singing the chorus loudly. I didn’t even recognise the song.

It was Ava that stood first. She drank up the rest of her beer in one big swill and then chucked it straight into the nearby trash receptacle. Then she held out her hand to me.

“C’mon, ya’ll,” she said, putting on a mighty grin. “Enough of this sad sack routine from both of us. We can have an early mid-life crisis after this epic festival. Right now, it’s a gorgeous Saturday, we’re at the Blitz, and I’m sure there’s gonna be at least one band a pair of soon-to-be fogeys like us will recognise. So what do you say, partner? Shall we make a good time of it?”

I couldn’t help but grin. Ava was always like that; even when times got hard, she was able to shake it off and have a good attitude, or perhaps just keep her deeper thoughts squirrelled away. 

“Sure thing,” I said, “partner.”

I took her hand and she helped pull me up and out of my funk. She let it go, then gestured to the crowd.

“Let’s show those young kids what a real pair of rowdy attendees look like!”

I laughed and joined her, leaving my more upset thoughts behind me.

For now.

***

Ava was right to put a pin in the proceedings, because the rest of the Saturday Blitz was more of a Saturday Blast. We sang, we shouted, we ate and drunk - the latter way too much. A number of younger festival goers looked at us like a pair of aliens but for a sweet time we didn’t much care. We were in the rhythm of the music, two best friends vibing out to the bands and the songs and general mood of the festival, even if we didn’t recognise over half the bands anymore, even if the fashion all around us was totally different and made us stick out like sore thumbs.

When the festival ended, we slowly drifted back to the carpark. Numerous people were already heading out to go out on the town, but we were in our forties and feeling a bit over the hill by that point, so we decided to call it quits and say goodbye. The fact that so many young couples were openly making out or clearly heading off to get laid only made that decision more clear, because it only reminded us both of our own single status.

“Shame we’re, like, totally platonic,” Ava said, more than a little tipsy. There was a reason we’d had to call her a cab. Thankfully, my own drinks had stopped being alcoholic midway through the day, as the last time I’d gotten drunk had not been kind to me the next day.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“I really need to fucking get some, is all I’m saying, partner. Not from you - no offence - but I need to ride a good cowboy. Seriously, getting sick of having my way with things that run on batteries.”

“Okay, let’s get you to the taxi,” I said gently, holding her swaying form. “Before you give any more TMI.”

She snorted. “Okay. Yer a good friend, Luke. The best. You deserve someone. Should find a nice girlfriend. God, I’m gonna have such a hangover tomorrow. Wish I was younger.”

“Me too,” I replied. “Feel pretty achey from all that jumping already.”

The taxi arrived and I waved it down. The man got out but I was already opening the door for Ava.

“We’ll get your car tomorrow,” I said. “You just take care of yourself.”

But before I could close the door she grabbed my hand and looked at me, swaying just a little.

“Y’all are right, ya know,” she said. “I do wish I could have a fresh start. You know, new body, new life and all that. Just ta see if the grass really is greener.”

“You have a good night, Ava,” I said. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Ooh, after midday. I’ll have a concussion.”

I laughed, shut the door, and the taxi sped off. Suddenly, all at once, I was hit with a deep sense of moroseness as I walked to the carpark to get my own vehicle. Ava was my best friend, but if even she was wishing she could start over, what hope could I have? I couldn’t help but be jealous of the younger crowd around me. Hell, I didn’t even want to be in my twenties again, just try to fork a different life in my thirties. Just ten years regained to try something new and find someone. It wasn’t like I was trying too hard now; I just felt like I was past the dating phase and suffering for it.

Eventually, I found my car and got in. I took one more look at the festival in the distance, the remaining after-party dying down, and sighed as I turned the key in the ignition. I was about to drive off when I saw something that almost made me think I was dreaming: careening across the sky was a great blue and green ball of fire, with an enormous tail that washed and rippled the sky as if it were the Aurora Borealis. It passed over, an immense shooting star that looked to be almost magic. It reminded me of the old omen.

“I wish I could get a new, different start in life,” I murmured softly.

The shooting star, or comet, or whatever it was, disappeared over the horizon, leaving festival goers cheering. After a brief pause where I wished I had gotten a photo, I turned the key in the ignition and drove away, that wish echoing in my mind as much as that image of the shooting star.

It had almost felt like an omen.

Part 2: The Change

The Entity careened across the great void, travelling where it may. Its consciousness reached out, observing and hearing, encoding and recording. There had been some rotations since it last visited this world, and during that space of time it had travelled to far stranger places across many realms. The magic infused within its very being allowed it to exist in many skies at once, illuminating entire worlds and being celebrated and feared as one. Most of the time, it preferred to stay passive, taking in the stories of those across these realms and dimensions - valiant knights and beautiful princesses, ghastly monsters and fearful victims, shy housewives and domineering husbands, and so on. But occasionally, when the fancy took it, and its own comet trail burned brightest, the Entity liked to bestow its magical essence upon a world that it visited.

This was what it did now, travelling over the skies of the world known as ‘Earth.’ It heard the many whispers of those below, and decided through some arcane whim to grant a number of their wishes as they voiced them aloud. Such actions gave the magical being a sense of satisfaction, a reason to pour out its power before moving on and recharging. And so it listened, and judged, and selected, and allowed its reality-shaping energies to reach out and change lives. But not without a bit of mischief as well.

A woman in a deep desert wished to never be without water. The Entity granted her wish, and she soon found herself a mermaid in the wide ocean, a being of beauty and myth.

A man wished to be free of the wife and children who burdened him, as he saw it. He found himself upon a hidden tropical island, its only occupant.

An older lady wished to be young again, and revisit the ‘good old days.’ She got her wish . . . but was shocked to find herself in Ancient Greece.

A lonely child called out for help in the dark. She would wake with loving parents, kind siblings, and never want for anything again. The Entity had its sympathies.

A number of other wishes were granted. Some became rich, others free of disease, others still gained petty prizes - quite a lot of children across Barcelona woke with mysterious presents at the end of their bed, attributing them to a very early visit from Santa Claus.

But there was a pair of wishes that intrigued the Entity. Usually, most wishes were individual, but here were two friends of the opposite sex - another intriguing point - both of whom were wishing to have new bodies, new lives, and to be younger. To have a new path to tread. This pleased the Entity greatly; not only did it provide an opportunity for mischief, but also for genuine joy and change, the very foundation of magic itself.

It would grant their wishes, entwining the destinies of the pair. And perhaps it would also stick around for a while, hovering invisibly just out of sight of Earth and its denizens, and see what came next.

***

I woke from that strange dream. All nonsense about an Entity or a star or comet or something. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, and it seemed to drift out of my mind as dreams often did. I had a headache, and it made me groan in an oddly squeaky voice while I tried to get my bearings.

Where was I?

I was in my bed, that much was clear.

Why did I feel like my skull was about to split apart?

Ah, that’s right. Once I’d gotten home I’d started to get all morose and contemplative about my conversation with Ava, and that had led to me making the frankly terrible decision to break some of the bears out of my fridge and drink more than I should have. I remember thinking I had overdone it a little, but judging from the migraine I was currently possessing, and the fact that my body felt all weird and spongy and wobbly in the oddest damn places, I could imagine I’d definitely hit the bottle with far too much aplomb. At least it was a Sunday, so I didn’t have to go to work until tomorrow.

“Errgh,” I groaned, placing my hand on my forehead. “What a day. What a night.”

My voice definitely sounded weird. Oddly soft and high, though it had a tired rasp in it. God, if I ended up with a damn cold or sickness because I pushed my body to the limits I would be so damn mad at myself for being an idiot.

“Last time I go to the Saturday Blitz,” I croaked, pawing at my neck. I didn’t have a sore throat, at least. My neck felt strange though; like it was too soft. Hell, I couldn’t even feel my Adam’s apple for whatever reason. 

Wait. 

No.

What?

It couldn’t be . . .

I raised my hands and ran them over my chin and neck and upper lip. The skin there was as smooth as a baby bottom, showing no signs of any hairy scruff whatsoever, or that there had ever been hairy scruff.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, voice still totally off. Had I shaved off my beard last night? Had I seriously shaved my entire beard off while drunk? And since when did I have shaving cream that good!? It was enough of an embarrassment for me to run my fingers through my hair. My . . . very long . . . hair.

“What the . . ?”

I raised myself out of bed. Something wasn’t adding up, not least the way my chest felt strangely heavy and kind of . . . jiggly. I pushed the hair out of my face, wondering just when on earth I’d gone and put a wig on the previous night, but the hair felt too real, and when I tugged it, it pulled at the very roots. By this point I was being forced further awake, rubbing the dust from my eyes, my heartbeat quickening as a serious nervousness came over me.

“Something’s wrong,” I mumbled to myself. “Why do I feel so weird?”

I went to rub my chest with my hands, only to cup something. Two things, actually. Two fleshy things that were not only a part of me, but hung off of me, and were strangely sensitive and full and round and pert at that. My heart actually skipped a beat. Very slowly, I lowered my gaze downward, some of my newly elongated hair falling down to frame the edges of my vision, easily shoulder length now, somehow. But that was of little concern to me by that point. What did concern me was the pair of fleshy orbs hanging off of my chest, looking like a rather decent pair of breasts, cupped up in my hands in such a way that they formed an impressively deep line of cleavage.

“Oh God!” I cried, leaping to my feet. I let go of my . . . my breasts in the same motion, and it only confirmed that they were real, because they jiggled heavily on my chest, feeling a little painful as a result. They were even topped with larger pink nipples, and a rather perfect set at that.

“No, there’s no way. No fucking way!”

But the evidence was mounting. My voice was losing its early morning dry rasp, and increasingly sounding like what it actually was: a woman’s voice, perhaps a mezzo-soprano. Sweet and high enough to be womanly, but with a dash of authority in it, not that I felt authoritative at that moment. The fact that was I was clearly shorter had something to do with that as well: I suddenly felt tiny, like I’d shrunk from nearly six feet in height to merely five-four or something. My hips were obviously wider, my skin smooth, and my arms felt like twigs compared to what they’d been, even though my thighs were thicker. And when I lowered a hand to between my thighs I could feel my underwear stretched tight upon this hips but flabby in the centre. Sliding my fingers underneath I felt a pubic bush, and beneath that . . .

“Gah!”

I nearly fell back on the bed. That had been a slit. A pussy. A womanhood. A vagina. Any consideration that this might not be the case, that I was just imagining things, was immediately diminished by the obvious fact that there was simultaneously a distinct absence between my thighs. I cupped my - my boobs - and bent over, shifting to hold them in my forearm the way I had occasionally seen an old girlfriend do while I pulled down my underwear.

“Shit! Fuck, it’s real!”

I pinched myself just a few times to be sure, but I remained awake. Yep, there was no denying that I had a freakin’ pussy. If it looked like a duck, felt like a duck, then it was probably a fucking vagina that had eaten my damn penis out of nowhere. I shifted upright, only for my hair to flick around my head and obscure my vision. It made me wonder how much I had changed in full.

“Please God no! Please God no!”

I ran to my bathroom, a journey that nearly had me tripping over twice due to my sudden lower centre of gravity and difference in my pelvis. My boobs wobbled and my penis distinctly didn’t, due to not fucking existing anymore, and I couldn’t help but notice that my ass felt even a little bouncy.

“Shit! Shit!”

I had become a damn repeating record, skipping over the same sentences. But what else was there to say when you were looking in the mirror and seeing a woman stare back at you instead of the man you were supposed to be?

“No way, how did this happen?” the woman in the mirror asked of me, her reflection copying my own movements and speech perfectly, yet looking utterly foreign to me. “God, this is nuts! I look like a complete chick. I look - I look . . .”

There was only one word, really, above all the others in this morning of insanity.

“I look beautiful.”

That I did, despite feeling groggy and misshapen and strange and wrong, there was no denying that my new body was very good looking. The woman I had become was fairly short, perhaps around five-four as I had guessed. I had definitely lost years, at least if I had to guess: I looked to be thirty years old or so. There was no way I weighed anything over one hundred and thirty pounds or so, maybe one hundred and forty at the furthest outset. In fact, not only did I have a cute heart-shaped structure, but smart hazel-coloured irises that seemed to glimmer with a mischief I most certainly did not feel. I had longer eyelashes, more defined eyebrows, and my face was perfectly smooth just as I had felt earlier in bed. Coupled with my surprisingly full lips and my wavy brown hair, and I looked like the kind of woman I might have once carried a torch for, not that she was doing anything for me now.

And that was the strange part, or at least another strange part, because my new body was rather killer as well! Suffice to say I had curves in spades, which might have accounted for my struggle running about to this very room. My breasts, at an estimate - and this was just me spitballing - were maybe a D-cup? Or a C-cup? They felt big, but perhaps that was just my new angle on them? They weren’t huge or anything, but certainly sizeable. I recalled that Ava sometimes complained about having a ‘meagre B-cup’ and my new tits looked a size bigger than hers, so C’s perhaps? 

They weren’t my best feature though, as admittedly nice as they looked. My hips were where it was at. I didn’t like to bandy around such terms in polite company, but holy hell did I have a set of total babymakers now. Seriously, I had a pair of hips that were absolutely dynamite. I looked like the kind of lady that even if you didn’t want kids, you wanted to get her pregnant. It was damn instinctive. At least it would be, were I not looking at my own twisted, feminised reflection.

“Jesus, even my legs look good. And this ass!”

I turned, and admired it. Flat it was not. It wasn’t a huge bubblebut either, thank God, but any set of hips like I now sported would need an appropriate amount of padding on the backside to ‘fill them out,’ so to speak. Suffice to say, my new derriere would look damn good in a bikini, as would the rest of me. Hell, I even had the dainty hands and feet of a woman! Weird enough to feel so short and the world so much bigger, but I was fairly petite apart from my womanly curves. Even my stomach was taut and flat, apart from a slight pooch.

“Why do I have a - oh shit, it’s because of my womb, isn’t it?”

Most women had such a pooch, as I recalled. Helen, one of my old flames, practically buried me in an avalanche of a rant when I asked about hers. God, I must have been only twenty years old and a total moron to even mention such a thing, but she was very clear that it was entirely natural, and a result of having an entirely extra organ to what men had: a womb.

“Holy hell, I’ve got a womb now,” I whispered to my reflection. “A fucking uterus. Jesus Christ, this is too much.”

I placed my hands on my head, feeling as if my brain was going to leak out, or otherwise explode. 

“This is crazy, this has to be a dream, what could possibly have led to this!? How am I even going to get to work when I’m suddenly a damn chick who’s over ten years younger and doesn’t even have an . . . identity?”

It was then that I noticed something else. My bathroom rack had changed, and I wasn’t talking about the rack that I was sporting on my chest either. It was as if I suddenly had a female visitor or girlfriend staying over and slowly remaking my bathroom setting, as women were wont to do over time. There were nail files, lip gloss, a makeup rack full of numerous colours, foundation sponges, a hair straightener and hair dryer, even what looked to be eyeshadow and eyeliner products. Looking in the draws I found tampons and pads for menstruation, as well as a lot more items intended for shaving delicate places.

I was starting to realise that more than just my body and gender had changed.

Slowly, my hips still feeling a bit odd and my centre of gravity different, I backed out of the room and made my way back to the bedroom. Sure enough, now that I was looking for it, I could see that much more had changed. My room was a lot cleaner, for one, and didn’t have as many collectibles lying around, though there was still one glass case. My calendar had changed from a sporty focus to one of serene environmental landscapes, and my closet was totally organised. The clothing there had shifted, becoming entirely feminine in nature.

“Why the hell do I still have my male underwear then?” I asked, before looking down. “Oh, come on!”

Without me even noticing, they had changed, becoming a pair of white female underwear that fit snugly and oddly comfortably around my hips, and no longer hand any baginess to them. Instead, they were smooth over my crotch. My venus mound, as I recalled from long-ago sex ed classes.

“Shit, they even show off my ass a bit!”

Well, they weren’t a thong or anything, but they certainly seemed to cup my cheeks well, emphasising their rondure nature.

“God, this is insane. This is fucking crazy. How could all this change? Has even my identity transformed?”

There was only one way to find out. My wallet was meant to be on my bedside table, only now it wasn’t there. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that women didn’t often have wallets, they had purses. Not that I could find a purse immediately either. What I did find was my phone with a pastel blue cover with slots for cards. My background photo was me standing in front of a lake with my arms outstretched, wearing a bright yellow dress. And by me I meant the woman I had become.

“So, what, I’m a nature girl now, like Ava?”

I shook my head and pulled out my ID card from the phone case. A sensation of something like dread came over me as I looked at the pretty face in the corner of the ID card and the name that was displayed by it.

Luna Gavins.

So I was Luna now, and for who knew how long! From Luke to Luna, just like that! And just like I had assumed, I was only thirty years old, having just lost - or gained? - thirteen years of my life. My birthday date was unchanged, at least. It listed me as July thirteenth, which wasn’t far away now. 

I gained access to my phone. It responded to my fingerprint, but I also tested my old code and found that this new life of mine, whatever had caused it, knew me well enough to leave my passwords and passcodes in place. 

“Let’s find out just who the hell you even are, Luna.”

I spent the next half-hour scrawling over my phone, stopping only to throw a shirt over my head, one that was fit for my new size, and then to make myself a coffee and toast due to my stomach rumbling. My headache was fading, but that knot in my stomach was only getting bigger as I came to terms with the strange changes to my reality that had taken place.

The good news was that large structures of my life were still in place. Judging from the photos, I still had the same Mom and Dad, and the same younger brother, though apparently David was actually older than me now. I was his younger sister, which was just bizarre to think about. My bank account was still healthy -  not as good as before but that was to be expected given that in this reality I’d lived for thirteen less years - and my credit rating was good. I was still paying the mortgage on this place, so it was mine. And a lot of my phone contacts remained the same: the people who were my friends and family.

The bad news - other than changing my fucking gender - was that I couldn’t find Ava on there. She wasn’t even in my photos. In fact, some of the events we had definitely been at just had this random guy who I’d never seen before in my life, a taller fellow with light brown hair and blue eyes, with a nice bit of muscles. He looked nice, but I didn’t know him. My gaze lingered over his form for longer than it should have and I had to blink several times, questioning what I was doing.

The other bad news - even if it wasn’t strange news - was that I was still a manager at the bank. Somehow, that kind of disappointed me.

“There’s no way I can just walk in and do the same job,” I murmured. “Can I?”

Somehow, the thought of my entire life changing but my boring job remaining in all its banality came across like a kind of sick job.

I put my face in my hands and screamed. It was all I could really do to try and achieve some kind of catharsis, and a last ditch attempt to try and wake myself from this crazy dream. Of course it didn’t work, and when I looked down at myself there were still the same pair of tits, and a shorter, softer, petite body with its broad hips. Hell, even just my hair felt alien to me; it was swishing about with every movement and I kept tucking it behind my ears. 

“This is too much to deal with. I need a freakin’ shower.”

So that’s just what I did. I took off my new female clothes, sighed softly in that new womanly voice of mine, and got into the shower after gazing at my changed reflection one more time. It was weird showering as a woman. My skin was so much more sensitive, yet simultaneously I wanted the water to churn so much hotter. It felt wonderful on my skin, and I couldn’t deny that the smoothness of my form was strangely pleasurable. I relaxed quite a bit purely by running the soap over my body and mixing the shampoo through my full hair. It clung to the back of my neck and shoulders, and I found myself sighing, my heart beat beginning to relax.

“Okay Luke. Luna. Whatever and whoever you are. So you’re a woman. What caused this? How do you deal with this? Who to even talk to?”

I needed to chat to Ava, that much was clear. She had to remember me. She just had to. My life was already upside down, but I damn well refused to accept the possibility that my best friend in the whole wide world would somehow forget the person I was, even if everyone else had.

That was the thought I focused on as I cleaned myself, and it calmed me further. But soon I was also calmed by something else, and this was a thing I never imagined. With the steam and heat rising in the shower I began to explore my new body. You can’t blame me, right? Who hadn’t imagined turning into the opposite sex and copping a feel at some point in their lives? Perhaps it was just a stress reaction, perhaps it was simply curiosity, or perhaps I genuinely was getting unexpectedly aroused, but I slowly started to cup and feel my breasts, lifting them and letting them bounce, even thrusting out my chest to see how big they were and how they obscured my daintified feet. My nipples were goddamn gorgeous, and as I ran the soap over my boobs I began to sigh softly. They tensed, feeling almost like they were throbbing as I caressed them again and again, first with the excuse of cleaning myself, and then even after I put the soap away.

“Mhmmm,” I moaned, my voice a little sultry, a little sensual. “That f-feels pretty good. Ahh . . .”

I began to pinch and play with those nipples, squeezing my breasts and fondling them. I wasn’t necessarily attracted to them. How could I be? But the sensations they gave me offered a small shard of pride. If I was stuck having boobs for however long, why not try and enjoy them a little? Maybe it would turn me back or something! Besides, the pulses of pleasure they provided as I massaged my nipples and cupped the sensitive skin only stirred forth further feelings. I began to feel hotter, and not just from the shower. A warmth was developing inside me, and it manifested in an unfamiliar yet blissful sensation: my new pussy began to grow moist. It was the oddest damn thing I’d ever felt: I had a fucking tunnel leading into me, and it was lubricating itself.

I also, at least in that moment of arousal, didn’t care too much. I just wanted to fucking feel good before I confronted all of this insanity.

“Mhmmm . . . yeah. That’s it . . . ohhhhh . . .”

I lowered a hand, feeling between my soft thighs. So bizarre to be using my hands to please a woman’s needy pussy, only for that woman to be me, and that pussy to be mine. My fingers made contact with my slit, brushing up against the moisture of water as it mingled with the moisture of my aroused womanhood.

“Nngghhnnn . . . ahhhh. Oh G-God . . .”

The sensations were wonderful. It was so different from stimulating oneself as a man, and yet I found it hard to describe. It was slower, that was for sure, like it took longer for my body to heat up. Helen had once accused me of being ‘too eager’ to get down to the actual sex part and skip the foreplay, and now I finally understood why it was so important to women that men take it slow at first. But the build was incredible. I rubbed my slender fingers over my opening, and when I found my clitoris it was practically bulging, small but definable, ready to be touched and teased. It sent shivers of delight up through me new nethers, and I wobbled a little, before continuing to grope my new tits.

“Mhmm . . . yeahhh. Mhmmm, that’s the s-stuff. God, is this what it f-feels like for a lady? They have it - ahhh! - good! Mmhph!”

I let go of my breasts, caressing my face as if to calm myself. This was in response to me slipping my fingers inside of myself. Now I wasn’t just teasing the sensitive clitoris or labia, but actively stroking and stimulating the nerves of my vaginal passage. I was getting wetter by the second, and I was definitely not talking about the shower anymore. My moans were like those of a woman in heat, and that’s what I was, really. I gasped and groaned, moaned and murmured, whimpered and wailed as the delirious pleasure bloomed within me. This was no quick stroke in the shower, no unburdening of sexual tension by ‘rubbing one out’ as a guy. This was a dance, and one that I was only just beginning to practice. I sensed, even as I teetered on the very edge of my first female orgasm, that I wasn’t even remotely close to mastering the absolute delight that could come from female self-love, but God if I wasn’t determined to feel it.

“Yessss . . . so close. So damn c-close. So close! Close! Close! CLOSE! YES! YES! YESSSSSS!!!!”

And then it hit me, and I immediately lost all control. I squeezed my right breasts, fondling the nipple with my thumb and extracting as much pleasure as possible in that very last moment, right before I was enveloped in female pleasure. I was embarrassed to find myself crying out loud, screaming like an old girlfriend used to do when she came, and yet it was an involuntary reaction born of the heights I was being sent to. This was no orgasm like a man experienced. I would know: I’d had to have quite a few dates with Miss Rosie Palms in the last few years while absent a girlfriend. That had always been a rush: a surge of power and dominance that was strong as hell but just as brief, like a display of fireworks going off, illuminating the sky but only for scant seconds.

This was different. This was submission. I had to grip the railing of my shower just to stay on my wobbly legs as I rubbed my inner walls and massaged my clitoris. Far from a brief but powerful explosion, this was like being submerged in water. It swept over me slowly yet surely until I could stand no more, and then like a drowning sailor I could only gasp for air as wave after wave sent me deeper. Only there was no agony, just a climax I experienced two times. Two times! Didn’t women get more than that, from time to time? 

“Oh God, holy shit. My legs . . . I can’t feel my legs.”

I had to cling to the railing as the post-coital calm finally settled over me. That had been an experience, alright. And if nothing else could prove it, this was the thing that made me truly believe my changes had occurred. There was no way my imagination could have conjured that kind of sensation.

I stumbled out of the shower, quickly drying myself (badly, at that) and getting dressed in a pair of jeans and the green shirt I’d put on before. The former was too snug around my butt, at least as far as I would have liked, and the latter showed off my chest - not greatly, but as far as I was concerned, simply having boobs and others knowing I had boobs was too much. 

“Okay, find Ava, that’s the number one priority. Find Ava, and maybe see if her nature wisdom or something could tell me about-”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Then it rang again. And again. More rings, followed by knocking.

“I’ll - I’ll be right there!” I called. My hair was still all wet and making my shirt wet too. That’s right, women put a towel around their head after showers. Stupid. Still, I couldn’t not answer the door. I moved to it, trying to think of how to present myself normally, when I realised my nipples were poking at the fabric of my shirt. God, I needed to wear a damn bra now! Judging from the jiggling of my chest, I definitely could use one, humiliating as that would be. But the mysterious visitor was still knocking on the door. I reached it, only to notice that my phone was buzzing; someone I didn’t know who was listed as ‘Aidan.’ I put it away. I could deal with that later. Instead, I opened the door to a dishevelled looking man who was much taller than me and surprisingly handsome despite looking like a hot mess. 

He had light brown hair that suggested he’d just gotten out of bed recently, and striking blue eyes that reminded me of Ava’s. He was perhaps around six feet tall, about thirty years old, and had some light scruff on his face; not a full beard, but certainly not well-shaved either. He was strong - not overly muscular - but had a lean, manly look to him. Weirdly, I found it hard not to stare at his bare forearms as he stood there in a poorly buttoned flannel top and track pants that did not suit his look one bit.

“I - who are you?”

“Who am I?” he said, his voice surprisingly baritone in pitch. “Who are you?”

My eyes widened. “I recognise you! You’re the one from my phone!”

“I wasn’t calling you,” he said, “I was calling a friend. Are you staying over or something?”

It was then that I realised we were having two different conversations; the man had a phone in his hand, one that was calling out. And my phone was still buzzing.

“Aidan!?” I asked.

He frowned. “I - yes, I guess that’s my name. Look, I’m trying to find a man named Luke. Luke Gavins. He lives here. I’m ya’ll have some . . . reason for being here.” His eyes roamed down to my nipples, which were very obvious in the tight shirt. I covered them up as he continued. “But this is an emergency, okay darling? I need to talk to Luke. He lives here.”

It hit me, what was going on. In fact, it crashed down upon me so hard that I wobbled on my legs again, and had to grab the door frame just to steady myself. The man named Aidan reached out and helped me.

“Woah, nellie! Are you okay?”

I got my first hint of true feminine emotion sweeping through me like a wave of estrogen, because despite my normally stoic self, I suddenly felt tears form in the corners of my eyes and begin to spill down my cheeks.

“No, I’m not okay,” I said. “It’s me, Ava. I’m Luke. Only I’m Luna now.”

His eyes went wide. “You - you too? Dear God, Luke, what in the sam hill has happened to us?”

To Be Continued . . .