CW: This chapter is a tad lewd. Not downright smut, but there is mention of masturbation and lots of sexual fantasizing.

As you can probably imagine, sleep didn’t come particularly easy for Tony or myself that night. There we both were, with newly minted girl-bodies absolutely brimming with new, exciting experiences to discover, new feelings to feel, new… bodily idiosyncrasies to discover—as it turns out, having wider hips and a swollen chest was a recipe for crashing into things left and right. And so we stayed up late into the night and early into the morning, chatting incessantly about whatever came to mind—though mostly it was about how exciting and cool getting to be girls was. We didn’t talk much about the prank, but that was to be expected; it was already underway, all that was left now was to keep the ruse going, and what better way to keep the ruse going than by getting all our thoughts and feelings on the experience of looking like girls in order. 

There was one issue, however, just a tiny one, really. The sort of issue that just about anyone could overlook and not think about; it was that Tony was really, really, exceedingly, startlingly pretty. That wasn’t exactly brand new information to me, I’d been grappling with that reality ever since first laying eyes on his changed self. But time and time again, as the night passed, I found myself staring longingly at his lips, or into his eyes, or at some of his more—sexy—bits. And yes, I had no trouble reminding myself that the person I was looking at was my friend. I saw that in everything he did, from his speech patterns to his interests, to his general excitable nature. What had been difficult, instead, was seeing the person I was looking at, my best friend for years and years, as anything but a pretty girl. He just wore that body so well, so effortlessly, like it was more him than he’d ever been. All that gave the impression that I was looking, not at my best friend wearing a pretty girl’s body, but at my best friend, who mattered a great deal to me, and also who happened to be a very pretty girl. Maybe the difference was subtle, but it was everything when it came to, you know, feeling things.

The whole thing gave me pause, made me think, made me come to a conclusion I’d possibly been avoiding all night: Tony was a way better actor than I’d given him credit for. I could rationalize away all I wanted just how much I was going to dominate him in this bet, but watching him like this, just naturally navigating this new world of femininity as though he’d been born a fish and only just now after taking to water discovered his legs were vestigial, I realized the foolish error I’d made since the very beginning: I was up against a prank legend. For Tony, pulling off pranks was as free and easy as breathing, so of course playing the role of cute girly girl would come naturally to him so long as it meant pulling one over on our friends. The point was, I’d really, really need to step up my game if I wanted to win our little side bet. 

Which wasn’t to say I didn’t still have a lot of confidence in my ability to pull all this off; despite my having less experience being a prankster, what I did have in spades was experience thinking about what I’d do if I were a girl instead of a guy. And, sure, it seemed like Tony had had his own degree of experience in the matter, but surely not as much as I did. While obviously Tony and I were proof that all guys wanted to see what being a girl was like, there was a reason bringing it up was taboo.

 It was unmanly, of course, to do this particular thing that all guys did. Most guys almost certainly repressed their desires and moved on; not me, though. I’d fully embraced the idea of being a guy who wanted to be a girl—at least behind closed doors, anyway. Seriously talking about all this stuff with anyone except Tony was not going to happen, and even then he’d probably think I was weird for just how much I’d obsessed over this. Regardless, this was my calling, I’d spent my life thinking about this and only rarely, occasionally, a few times a week getting existentially sad at the prospect of never living out my greatest fantasy. But tangents aside, the point was that I’d totally be able to clutch this victory; I’d just need to step up my game and live my girliest girl life. Eventually I’d probably take Tony to the point where he didn’t feel comfortable acting as girly as I was, all while I was having a blast. That would be my moment of victory. Confident in my plans, I’d spent the remainder of my night silently struggling to avoid admitting that I was starting to crush on my best friend. 

When I’d finally gone through the whole routine of, y’know, falling asleep then waking back up, I faced a new day full of complicated, at times inconvenient, and entirely giddy feelings. I decided to lean into it, though the overly bubbly giggling girl may have been a bit of a stereotype, but what better way to convince people this was what I wanted that to be about as stereotypical as possible? Still, maybe a degree of caution was necessary, if I went too overboard too quickly I might make it overly-obvious that I was acting. I certainly didn’t want to become the Nicholas Cage of being a girl. No, my performance would need to be sincere, but measured. I wouldn’t over-act, I would be the girliest girl I could be, but I’d need to build up to it, not jump in headfirst. 

It was a difficult balancing act, all things considered. I'd need to simultaneously act girly enough to beat Tony at our bet, while also not being so overboard that Will and Rachel caught on to our shenanigans. As such, lying in bed, having just awoken to my first real day of being a girl, I resolved to spend the early hours meditating and strategizing over how best to achieve my goals. Did I ever mention my resolve was shit? What I actually did was spend the remaining hour or so of morning touching my boobs, rubbing my silky smooth thighs together, and giggling incessantly at how exciting all this was. After that though, I promised myself, after that I would get down to business. I just needed an hour or so of self indulgence. 

Four o'clock pm rolled by, and I was face down screaming into my pillow, while riding the high of my third self-inflicted orgasm of the day. It felt fucking good, okay? And like, having a vagina was cool as hell and not nearly as confusing as all the media about guys getting turned into girls had led me to believe. I mean, admittedly that stuff always kind of read as perverse fantasies for virgins who saw women as objects, whereas I myself was neither of those things, and had taken great care to learn what to do with a woman’s body because, well, women deserved to be treated like the goddesses they were. Regardless, I’d had a nice time, to put it mildly. I may even have gotten just a little taste of that wonderful feeling that was being some facsimile of girl.

Eventually, I pulled myself out of bed, and decided to cool myself off with, well, a cool shower. There’s nothing quite as unsexy as standing in a tub alone getting blasted by frigid water, and it certainly did well to clear the head. Doing my best to quickly and efficiently wash myself before freezing to death all while dancing around the jet of cold water was a great way to not focus on the more distracting things about my body, or how it made me feel. It allowed me to, for example, temporarily set aside in my brain the fact that I’d been touching myself to the idea of doing things with two out of my three roommates. It allowed me to ignore that I’d fantasized about Tony, my idiot dude-bro best friend, actually being Penny, charming pretty girl who also would happen to be my best friend, and running a train on me alongside Rachel. I’d found the idea incredibly arousing, at the time. But now, in the shower, I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about that. For sure. Definitely. It sure was nice to not be thinking about those things.

Five o’clock pm rolled by, and I was face down screaming into my pillow, while riding the high of my fifth self-inflicted orgasm of the day. Okay look, I’d never really been super comfortable with self-pleasure before. It used to kind of just be a way to get good endorphins flowing. But now, now I was in a girl body and there were all sorts of things I could do to that body that felt amazing and cool and way more comfortable. I mean, unless he were into dudes, why would a guy want to touch a guy’s body anyway, even if it was his own? It was still a guy's body. This way I got to touch something soft and pretty. And okay, yeah, I wasn’t exactly aroused by myself or anything, but my old body was actively kind of gross to look at and think about, and this one distinctly wasn’t that, so it made sense that I’d have a bit more of an appetite like this. And, anyway, point being, this time I had made a very valiant effort not to imagine touching my toes in front of ‘Penny’ and Rachel. It almost worked, even.

Eventually, the time did come—no pun intended—where I managed to leave my bedroom in a totally clear-headed, not horny, and definitely absolutely very penetrable—presentable—state. I shambled out of my room, trying very explicitly not to think of all the places my mind had taken me during the past more hours than I’d care to admit, only to come face to face to face with Rachel and Tony, sitting casually at the kitchen table together. Rachel, ever insistent on rocking the gay looks regardless of how few people were going to see them, was sporting a loose, open blazer with a tight punk-band t-shirt and tight burgundy jeans. As I entered the room, our eyes met, she gave me a cool smile which some might even consider aloof, but I, especially given all I’d just been through, struggled to see it as anything but cocky and assertive. She quirked an eyebrow, and leaned back in her chair. “Well, look who decided to finally come out of her room.” 

“I, uh, yeah,” I stammered, eyes averted. Something about the way she spoke, something about the way she called me a her made me feel simultaneously seen, acknowledged, and laid bare. 

“Just a tip, playing music goes a long way to drown out the noise.” Somewhere, my brain was letting me know I’d just been winked at, but that was irrelevant. I was dead. I was going to fucking space. I was already out the window. Her words had absolutely yote me. My body was having a core-reactor melt-down while my soul had been expelled from its flesh-tomb and was rocketing at ten thousand-thousand miles per thousandth of a second to fucking Elsewhere-City, Planet-Small-Hole-Where-Nobody-Will-Ever-Find-Me-In-Which-I-Can-Lay-Forever-And-Die. 

Somehow, the shell of who I’d once been managed a small, “Oh.” Then the tickling little giggle Rachel expelled hit rewind on my exorcism and sucked me right back into my body, just so I could admire the deliciously sick delight she got from making me fucking meet God. 

“Hey, listen, it’s alright, we all have to discover that side of ourselves eventually. Girls like you and Penny just started the race a little late. Seems like you still figured out how to get your engine running, though.” She winked again, and once again tore a new hole in my reality as I instead thought about her tearing a new—nevermind. I quickly shot Penny, err Tony a sidelong glance to see how he was doing only to find a similarly mortified expression on her—his face. So apparently Rachel had been doing a bit of work on him as well, or he was just getting hit by the splash damage.Then I realized Rachel had been talking and immediately snapped my attention back to her. 

“—was thinking that, since you both clearly rushed head first into this without using your heads even a little bit, it might be a good idea to help the two of you get some new duds. What do you say, wanna hit up some stores? I’ll lend you both some of my clothes in the meantime, then we can get you both properly fitted. I bet you’d both look absolutely stunning in…” Not entirely certain I could take more flirting, intentional or otherwise, I did my best to tune her out. Mostly, though, all that meant was confronting the growing truth that, so long as I had a new body with new feelings to contend with, keeping both hands on the wheel—both metaphorically and physically—was going to get pretty tough. I’d have to be careful if I wanted to not expose myself to Rachel—expose the prank to Rachel.

SapphicSounds

Geez, Heather Brody sure is having a time with this new body, huh? I hope you're enjoying the story so far! If you're aching for more now rather than later then guess what? You can read all of this story on my Patreon right now for as little as $2 a month. You'll also get a bunch of other stuff. Like, for example, patron exclusive bonus chapters (and smut), audio readings of some of my steamier works, access to my official discord server and (and I can't stress enough how valuable this last one is) Pictures. Of. My. Cat. Ziggy. There's a bunch of other cool stuff over there, but we'd be here all day if I listed it all.

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