My left hand now slipped two fingers inside my pussy. The combined pleasure of the two seemed to complete me. I felt my body build up, and my fingers began to go faster, getting ready for orgasm. I almost went to aim somewhere, before remembering that I was no longer a guy. That sentence no longer seemed to bother me, I was so completely in a haze of pleasure. So far as I could see, his house was much bigger than mine - at least, it was a house rather than a flat, with more than one floor. His bathroom was bigger too. I took in a deep breath. How long would this last? A day? A year? For the rest of my life? I had long since decided that it was way too real to be a dream. The thought scared me, so I focused my mind on the task at hand. A sudden wrap on the door startled me, and a female voice came through. "Sam, stop wanking and get out of the shower! I need to go to college too, you know." I flushed bright red. Sam's sister, Katie, also eighteen and yet younger than him by eleven months. They were close, you always saw them in the same group. I'd never got the chance to speak to her before now. At this my tiredness vanished. Where the hell was I? More importantly, how had I got here? I stood bolt upright, and nearly fell over. Why had I stood up so much faster than normal? I suddenly realised that I was feeling a body that was completely out of proportion. I had shrunk, that was why I had stood up so fast, because I was shorter. My arms and my legs felt stubby, and I was slimmer, too, except - She laughed again. "Okay, well I washed the outfit you wanted for today, it's in the bathroom for after your shower."

I winced as my eyes grew accustomed, but before I had even opened my eyes I knew that something was wrong. The bed felt different, and so did I - my limbs seemed to ache, as if they were too long and heavy. I sat up, and as I did my head was thrown into dizziness. For some reason, it felt like I had further to go than usual. Had I had a growth spurt in the night? Fiction Writing | Blog Writing | Creative Writing | Essay Writing | Letter Writing | Poetry Writing | Technical Writing | Story Writing What the hell?? Arifa?? She was a girl, in my year at college. I'd never been close to her, hardly even talked to her, and when I had it had always been in a group, a general conversation rather than an intimate one. So why the hell was she in my mirror? Okay, as normal as possible then. Just be there in half an hour." I furiously hit the hang-up symbol, before instantly feeling bad. He was just as scared as me, maybe more so judging by his reaction. I swung my legs around over the side of my bed, and slowly stood up, making sure the dizziness didn't affect me too much. I felt so tall, so precariously balanced, like I would topple at the slightest breeze.A poorly worded wish sees two college guys switched into their female crushes and having to live their lives. I felt faint - unsurprising, really, considering I had just fainted. I sat up gingerly - just as well, considering the change in height. I remained still, breathing deeply, supporting myself on my short, thin arms. For the purpose of simplicity, I've made the gender-related words (e.g., his/her) describe their personalities and inner selves, not their physical genders. A man in a woman's body is referred to as "him", not "her". I raised a hand, and at the same time, she did in the mirror. I looked at my hand, and had a double-take - my skin was brown. A bold, light shade of brown, the same (obviously) as Arifa's. The change in skin tone had less of an effect on me than the change in gender, but it was indescribably weird to have changed ethnicity over night. Warily, I pushed open the door. What should I do now? Just as I was deciding, Arifa's sister walked past again. Now that I was more relaxed (and horny), I noticed how attractive she was. She smiled at me.

There was no answer. I hung up and rung again. No answer. That was to be expected - it wasn't his phone, after all. I rung a third time, and then a fourth, and then a fifth. Just as it went to the answer phone message for the fifth time, it was answered at the other end. There was a few seconds of silence.I opened my door and looked warily out. I realised I didn't have any idea who lived in his house, or what his normal morning regime would be. I was willing to bet it wouldn't involve make-up. I was holding some clothes under my arm - boxers, a red chequered shirt that I'd seen him wear a few times and some jeans. I stared at the shower nervously - should I skip a shower? But no, I smelt of sweat, I needed the shower. His shower was part of a bath, so I had to reach my arm round to turn it on. My arms were a lot longer than I was used to, however, so I could easily reach it. I flipped it on, and pulled away before it could spurt water onto me. Sure enough, there was a shower. I was unsure of what to do, like a deer caught in headlights. I forced myself to think straight. Shower. You do that every morning, easy. Just have a shower. I reached inside the cubicle and twisted the knob. Water came spurting out. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Short Story Writing | Writers | Read Online | Writing Contests | Writing Software | Writing Journals | Writing A Book | Writing A NovelExcept he wasn't quite a stranger - he was Sam. That boy from my year, loud, always laughing. Brown hair, curly. Tall, quite muscular. White. And male.