Lake Otherlife, Part 10: Date Night (Patreon)

The second last chapter of the story is here! One more, and then an epilogue chapter. Enjoy!

A visit to a mysterious outback lake results in a big change for George and Holly, who are already undergoing relationship troubles of their own. Now, with their genders and lives utterly altered, will their romance last?

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Lake Otherlife, Part 10: Date Night

George:

Life fell into a pattern after that first work day. I was surprised at how well I adjusted to the role of secretary at my new workplace. It was simultaneously less stressful and more rewarding than my old job. Instead of having to always lead, bear the burden of success or failure, and constantly adjust expectations and give orders, instead I helped others manage their affairs, took the weight off of others’ shoulders, and worked as a conduit to the success of the overall company. Instead of always needing to manage the mindsets of my clerks, instead I could emotionally manage them, which I was increasingly adept at. Even something as small as giving a winning smile, a hug to a female colleague where needed (I learned my mistake hugging a male colleague early on!), or a few words of encouragement could really lift the overall mood. I had also come to really enjoy my coworkers’ presence over the next four weeks. Eliza truly did become my ‘BFF’ as she liked to be called, and she had a cheeky sense of humour that put a blush to my cheeks and made me giggle at the most inappropriate times. She was ridícula, but I loved her anyway, even if she always let me know when a customer was checking out my tatas.

That last particular scenario was not entirely uncommon. I could no longer really deny it; I was an incredibly attractive Latina. Voluptuous, as Eliza liked to playfully describe me. When you have tits that are nearly the size of your own head, you can’t be surprised when they get attention, no matter how much you cover up. And while my work uniform was clever, neat, and professional, it also didn’t do much to hide my curves. Infierno, even the pencil skirt did a good job of showing off my big culo. So it wasn’t entirely unexpected that I would get the occasional stare, wandering set of eyes, or gross older client who would look me up and down, smile, and give a revolting wink. Ugh!

Thankfully, Eliza did well to protect me, as did Bob, my direct boss. Bob was a fucking legend, in fact. The kind of boss I always imagined I’d been, but instead he was the true blue real deal. In fact, he practically chased a potential client out of the boss after he asked me if I “could do some personal accounting on his lap.” Once, I would have beaten him bloody, but as a woman I no longer had that option, and frankly I was so taken aback that my only response was in Spanish.

“Idiota! Pervertido! Go away!”

Evidently, my accented voice and foreign language only turned him on all the more.

“Spicy Latina, isn’t she?”

I’d never seen a man so angry as Bob when he threw the man out, or someone as red-faced. The man was practically out on his ass.

“Perdón, Bob,” I said. “The things he said just made me so angry! I didn’t mean for us to lose his business.”

Bob just patted me on the shoulder. “We don’t want his business, if that’s how he treats us. Trust me Gabbie, as a gay man I’ve copped a lot of abuse. I won’t stand by while it happens to someone else. Do you need the afternoon off?”

I assured him I didn’t, but he left the option open. From that day on, Bob had my undying fucking loyalty. The man was a héroe, as far as I was concerned.

Working as a secretary came with a number of challenges, but I had always prided myself on being adaptable. I worked hard to learn my new trade, and soon found that - to my embarrassment - it was a lot more involved than I had assumed, requiring a great deal of record-keeping, organisation, making appointments, dealing with planning, and sending out important notices and reminders. It was actually pretty full-on! And yet, it gave a strong sense of satisfaction for me, one that even Holly couldn’t help but tease me about.

“Look at you, smiling as you head off to your secretary job.”

“Don’t demean! I have to work while you lounge about buying properties or whatever.”

Harry scoffed. “Sure, sure. That’s definitely what my job is.”

“Well, I have regular work hours.”

“Uh-huh. And the reason I’m making dinner tonight is?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Because it’s work trivia night.”

“There it is. I hope Spanish history comes up so you can look ridiculous.”

“Oh, dios. Anything but that!”

I didn’t tell Harry, and I was resolved to never do so until long after this strange year was over, but I did find that I could entice clients to use our firm’s services. I wasn’t a fool; I was very talented, but my gorgeous looks also made for a nice fixture. A little bat of the eyelids, or keeping my back straight in order to emphasise my breasts, or a girly little twinkle of my fingers as ‘hello’ to some clients as they entered the building likely had a good effect on them becoming regular clients. Again, there was no way no earth I could ever let Harry know.

Of course, four weeks brought other things I was getting used to. For one, I was now very adept at putting on all sorts of bras, dresses, uniforms, and outfits. I had even learned a lot of the differences between fabrics, something that would have been anathema to me as a man! I learned how to style my earrings and adjust my makeup to perfection thanks to Holly’s guidance, and my cooking skills only increased. As much as it was leaning into stereotypes, I really did enjoy my Spanish and Mexican dishes, and so did Harry. I had never cooked much in our relationship when I was a man, and now I couldn’t believe how much time I had wasted.

Life was going well. I still sometimes had to deal with being overly emotional, or at least more emotional than a man. And my monthly visitor finally arrived two weeks in. That was mala. Terrible. It left me feeling bloated, my breasts sensitive, and having to listen to Harry explain how to use a tampon. But otherwise, life hadn’t actually changed too much. I mainly kept to myself when I wasn’t with work buddies or with Eliza, spending time with Harry and trying to keep some semblance of normal at home. I was even getting used to the fact that every word I spoke sounded like I was absolutely begging for it like a submissive little senorita.

The one major problem was the one I was terribly afraid of: I was getting horny as hell. Harry - back when she was Holly - and I had always had an active sex life; often three to four times a week, in fact! So it made sense that even in a woman’s body, I was getting pretty antsy. But it was getting ridiculous! I know the stereotype about Spanish women and horny Latinas and all that, but every morning and night I was feeling strong sexual urges. The need to ‘release the tension’ felt borderline constant, and I was having extra long showers just to compensate - and hide my moaning voice - much to Harry’s annoyance. I was having to pleasure myself sometimes twice a day, and it was a lot of pleasure, especially when I starting groping and playing with my big sensitive tits. I thought I could handle it for a while.

And then the dreams started. The wonderful, terrible dreams with gorgeous, hunky men holding me in their strong arms. It was ridiculous, like something out of bad porn, but the fact that Harry featured prominently was no coincidence. I had been trying to hide my glances at his forearms, his sexy shoulder muscles, his ass; all the parts that women apparently found quite appealing. At night he would roll over and hold me, and I would be frozen stock still, trying to ignore the urge to rub my big culo against his hardened cock. And that cock featured very prominently in my dreams. I could almost feel it entering me, stretching me wide just as Harry had that wonderful utterly wrong night. I wasn’t gay, I knew I wasn’t, but my ridiculous female body insisted on being deeply attractive to men, and when I wasn’t eyeing some of the specimens in public, Harry was there as the perfect Adonis, making me giddy. It was a fucking nightmare!

And of course, it all came to a head when, after a month of dealing with my constantly aroused hormones, Harry approached me one afternoon and told us me he had organised a date night for us.

Holly:

“Are you out of your mind? A date night? In public? This is loco!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. I was meant to be the one anxious to go out, while George was always the confident half of our pairing, parading me about at restaurants on date nights, excited to see me dressed up in a nice outfit, and - of course - keen to take me to bed the moment we got home. And now George was Gabriella, and while she hadn’t lost any of her fire, she withered at the idea of being the woman out on the town now.

“Just one night, Gabbie,” I said, placing my hands on her soft dark olive shoulders, “and it’s the Seelie, the same restaurant we’ve been to before a number of times.

“It’s very upscale.”

“Well, we’re making more money now.”

I shouldn’t have said that. The fact that I was now the major breadwinner, even with all her hard secretary work, rankled at her still-remaining male pride. She gave me a withering glare that reduced me, despite my much greater height. God, was that what it was like to be the man in the bad books with his girlfriend or wife? If so, then I vastly unappreciated the power I had when I was a blonde-haired woman.

“We may be wealthier, but it’s not about money. I’ll be - I’ll be on display. I’ll be expected to wear a dress and the makeup and look pretty.”

I chuckled again. “You already do those things now! You’re literally wearing a green summer dress right now?”

I didn’t add: ‘And you’re looking bloody fantastic in it, love,’ though I really wanted to. But the truth was, my fiancé’s feminine form could be wrapped in a bin bag and still look more gorgeous and enticing that just about any woman on earth. Even in loose summer dress, her bountiful bosom outlined prominently against the dress, her cleavage quite visible.

“It’s - that’s not the same!” she snapped. “This is in our home.”

“You wore something like this to town the other day, and again when we got groceries together.”

She pouted cutely. “But this would be different. Something about it feels . . . official. Like we’re just announcing to the world that I’m a woman and you’re a man!”

I could tell she was agitated; her Spanish accent always became thicker when she was stressed or worried, but not letting it on. She let out a huff and sat down upon the couch, her breasts bobbing a little heavily. I sat down beside and placed my hand on hers. How many times had George done the same for me when I was anxious?

“Honey, what’s really bothering you? You know you can talk to me? That’s half of what this whole lake transformation nonsense is about.”

She gave a heavy sigh. “It’s just - a date is for romance, isn’t it? Have either of us felt particularly romantic lately?”

I creased my brow. “We’ve been happy. We don’t argue practically at all, except about whose turn it is to put the washing out.”

She emitted a little chuckle. “Yeah, but that’s not the same as romance, is it?”

“Well, I’ve tried dear, but you keep pulling away.”

“Because we’re not in the right bodies. It’s . . . it’s extraño. Strange.”

I looked at her, right through into those beautiful eyes, and I could still see George within them, though there were flecks that were pure Gabriella now too.

“It’s only strange if we let it be strange, darling. We have two ordinary - dare I say, highly attractive - bodies. And Lake Otherlife has left us with - let’s face it - some new inclinations to the other sex, the one we used to be.”

That was certainly very true, as I’d discovered over the last month. The need to masturbate had grown considerably. I’d never realised just how horny men could get; there was always the stereotype, and George had often been a handful at times, but I could wake up with a stiffy and need to attend to it, unless I wanted things awkward with Gabriella. Everything else was going perfectly well: I was feeling powerful and increasingly in control of life with my work, and I was making more friends and getting outside my comfort zone when I grabbed beers with Curtis and the other blokes. But that need, that deep-seated want for Gabriella’s body hadn’t ceased. It turned within me, much as I had once for George, only a man’s needs were more frequent, and more forceful. At least, this was what I had found.

“I’m just saying that we can admit we’re attracted to each other, dear. That’s a sign of being in love. That’s what your whole trip was about, wasn’t it?”

She grumbled something noncommittal. “Well, it wasn’t about getting a vagina, I can tell you that.”

“No, but we know the lake did it to us so we could come closer together. I’m not saying we’ll have sex-”

“Definitely off the table,” she replied, a little too quickly.

“-but a date being romantic is a good thing. We should try to enjoy ourselves, get used to our bodies, like we promise we would.”

I could tell that Gabriella was thinking things over quite deeply, as she hadn’t said a word. She pouted a little, her full lips making her look very cute indeed, and she finally arrived at a decision.

“Fine, we go on one date. One. Then see how we go.”

“Good,” I replied, smiling. “And I can’t wait to pick out a dress for you.”

Her eyebrows raised so fast they could have hit the roof. “What!?”

George:

I looked ridiculous. I turned to Harry.

“I look ridícula.”

“Nonsense, Gabriella, you look fabulous.”

“I know, and it makes me feel ridícula.”

Harry’s eyes traced up and down my form, lingering on one spot in particular. Two spots, really. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have blamed me either, if I’d been a man still and was presented with the sensual, visual feast of the woman I had become. I’d done several turns in the mirror, and had been unable to avoid my reflections in the glass of the storefronts we passed on the way to the Seelie, and the vision I had was of a goddess who looked very lacking in confidence.

“Dios mio, I’ve got more skin on display than I do clothing.”

Harry grinned like a wolf. “I’m not complaining.”

“Of course you’re not, you’re not the one whose tits are nearly popping out of his cups!”

I stole another glance at myself in the mirror of a shopfront. It was positively scandalous! Well, not really, but it certainly felt so. It was the first ‘sexy dress’ I had ever worn, and by God it was working. Its bra was built-in, and it was bare-shouldered, leaving me feeling naked up top. My breasts were pushed up into two great mounds that wobbled and jiggled and bounced with each step, made all the more in motion due to my high heels. Those same heels exaggerated my already hip swaying walk, making my big culo round out the bottom of my dress impressively. And it was an impressive sight alright; the hem of the dress was just at my thighs, leaving my perfect brown legs on display. It hugged my hips, emphasising my hourglass figure, and my wavy hair and golden jewellery and classy makeup only made me more alluring. The centrepiece of it all, though, it must be said, were my admittedly fantastic books. They rode high on my chest, two great mounds that formed the largest line of cleavage I’d ever seen. Two globes that grabbed the gazes of every red-blooded man I passed.

“I feel like a lamb among wolves,” I complained.

“Don’t worry, this wolf will protect you,” Harry replied.

“Great, just what my male pride needs. Feeling like a damsel in distress. Take shorter strides, my little legs can’t keep up anymore.”

“Sorry, I guess I got used to having a man’s set of legs.”

“My legs, meanwhile, are on display. I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this - this harlot costume!”

Harry laughed. “Oh, for God’s sake Gabbie, it’s a perfectly good dress. You just happen to fill it out in some very nice places.”

“Fill it out a bit too much. You do remember what it’s like to have your big boobies bouncing around all the time, right?”

Harry shrugged. “A little, but then mine were never as big as yours darling.”

I blushed, feeling a strange flush of pride at that. Mine indeed were much bigger than Harry’s had ever been as Holly’s. She was certainly a beauty, but I was a vision, and my large, perfectly rounded boobs were part of that. It actually made me feel a little better, knowing that Harry was a little jealous of my big rack. I couldn’t say exactly why, but I walked with a little more flourish after he said that, my chest stuck out a little further, like an impressive shelf of tantalising flesh.

“True,” I said, “mine are pretty nice, aren’t they?”

I was fishing for a compliment on my body, and it was an oddly new experience for me.

“Nice? Nice? Gabriella, you have literally the most perfect set of boobs I have ever seen, and that’s a compliment coming from both Holly and Harry. I mean, you’re pretty fucking stacked, but unlike most girls with a rack your size, yours are pet, and rounded, and have that lovely teardrop shape.”

I smiled, holding my head up high. “Well, I suppose that strokes my ego a little . . .”

“See? It’s empowering, being a woman in a sexy dress that shows off your figure.”

“Just don’t call too much attention to it and I’ll be fine.”

But it did make me feel better. Something about looking very good appealed to me more now, or perhaps the previously alpha-male parts of my brain now liked being an alpha female. Either way, I let Harry take my arm, and he walked me to the restaurant. A passing man hit a pole behind us as he looked at my massive breasts a little too long, and I tried not to burst out laughing.

“Serves him right for being such a pig,” I said.

Harry laughed, and it made my heart flutter. He may have thought I looked sexy, but my eyes were wandering over his suited form as well.

Holly:

I was surprised by Gabriella. A month of being a woman had changed my former fiancé more than I had thought; she actually seemed to be liking the sexy dress I’d picked out for her! And my, she looked good in it. I actually had to conceal a massive erection when she’d first walked out, holding her arms and looking simultaneously embarrassed and a little proud of her body. The tight blue dress clung to each delectable curve, but it was those massive near-head size breasts that grabbed my attention. As we walked to the restaurant, I continued to stare down her top, peeking at those lovely hills, and the chasm of cleavage between them.

“Stop that,” she complained, but there was a growing smile each time, and she didn’t do anything to halt or stop me.

“I can’t help myself. You’re just too hot,” I whispered in her ear.

She went a little rigid at that. Had I triggered something? Either way, I stopped teasing her so much, as we’d reached the Seelie restaurant. The maitre’d was a man, and his eyes were glued to Gabriella.

“Hello and welcome to the Seelie, do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, we do,” Gabbie said, “under Gabriella González and Harry O’Neill. I’m sorry, your eyes have wandered, have I spilled something on my breasts?”

She placed her hands on her hips, her handbag over her shoulder, chest stuck out. The server turned bright red, mumbled an apology, and led us to our seats. He pulled her out a seat and she took it, crossing her legs in a ladylike fashion and smiling sweetly.

“Thank you so much.”

I took one opposite, trying not to laugh. “Poor boy!”

“Well, I figure if he wants to look at my tits he can have a bit of embarrassment for it.”

“And if I do the same thing?”

She considered this. “You’re allowed that privilege. But only because . . .”

“Because?” I asked, leaning forward.

She gave a sheepish grin. “Because you do look quite, well, dashing in that suit. Very guapo. Handsome. Particularly with the smart white shirt.”

I beamed. Being complimented by her on my looks felt great; perhaps because as a man, I didn’t receive such compliments nearly as much as when I was a woman. Another server came over, an attractive woman who took our entree orders and some drinks. I noticed that Gabbie didn’t take any wine; clearly our last adventure while tipsy wasn’t one she wanted to repeat. A shame, in my view.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me, gracias.”

I looked back to my ​​fiancé turned fiancée. She had a perfect eyebrow raised. She didn’t quite realise it yet, but her breasts were resting on the table’s surface.

“What?”

“You were looking at her.”

“She was taking our orders, dear.”

“She was flirting with you, though.”

Now it was time for me to raise my eyebrows. “No she wasn’t. What indication did she give of that?”

Gabriella chuckled. “A former man knows. It was the way she smiled at you, complimented you on your shirt, kept addressing you and barely talking to me.

“Huh. I hadn’t realised.”

At that, she smiled cunningly. “Good. Because she may look nice, but she has pimples on her chest compared to these.” She flicked her eyes down to her very ample bust. “And don’t you forget it.”

I gulped. It was hard not to stare at them, and I got the sense that Gabriella was returning my earlier teasing. I was hard beneath the table, and I shuffled closer to it in order to hide it.

“I won’t, don’t worry honey. It seems we are both getting a little more used to this.”

We continued to talk, about old times, our former lives, about what had changed and funny little mixups we’d made. The entrees and drinks arrived, and Gabriella enjoyed her non-alcoholic sweet drink, while I took some wine. My system could take it. The garlic bread was delicious, as were the little canapes that were brought out to appease us while my steak and her calamari dish were prepared. We were actually both in quite a good mood. Despite her initial hesitation and occasional embarrassment, Gabriella seemed to be having a great time. She even seemed to revel a little in her looks, enjoying the compliments I showered her with, and the looks from males around the room. George or Gabriella, both certainly had an ego.

“It’s so good to hear you laugh, Gabbie. Are you happy you came out?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m happy, okay.”

“What?”

“You’ve been wanting me to go out for some time. And for me to be happy.”

She placed a hand on mine. “It’s still hard, from time to time, being a woman. I’m getting used to it, even getting used to showing it off, all thanks to you. You push me outside of my comfort zone. It’s a good thing, but it’s not subtle.”

I gave a sheepish grin. “It’s all this testosterone. I feel I have to act.”

“And this estrogen makes me feel so much. We’re both seeing the other side.”

But not all the other side. At least, not since that night. I was immensely attracted to my former male partner, and my body wanted her. As the night went on, and we ate, and continued chatting, even the conversation died down a little. Our glances at one another were a little longer, more drawn out. Lustful, even. We ate our dinner, her moaning a little too seductively as she gorged upon her calamari pasta, and me enjoying a fine, manly steak. But all the time the thing I was growing most hungry for was her. I wanted to rip that tight dress off of her, press my face into those magnificent breasts and suck on her beautiful brown nipples. I wanted to hear my former man squirm and cry out in womanly passion beneath me, as I thrust into her. Every so often, I caught her giving the same aroused glances back at me too; at my arms, my biceps, my shoulders. A lady knew such things.

We talked around our obvious attraction, the clear sexual tension in the air. We even talked about work, despite that being an agreed off-topic area of discussion. But still those needs grew within me, and - I suspected - within her too. When we were presented with the dessert menus, I couldn’t help myself. I was full, and didn’t want to delay any further.

“Hey,” I said, “do you want to get out of here?”

There was a moment’s pause as she considered. I couldn’t read her mind, but it appeared that Gabriella was on the threshold, trying to decide which direction to go. And then . . .

“Let’s,” she said, smiling seductively.

And in that moment I knew she wanted me, as much as I wanted her. I simply had to help her realise it fully, and this time, soberly.

To Be Concluded . . .