The cool summer breeze flowed through the short brown hairs covering my arms and legs. I shoved my hands into my shorts pockets as my body shivered, and I looked over at Lynne. With her hair still wet, hairless legs exposed, and sandals covering her feet, I easily imagine how chilly she must have been.
Her outfit didn’t help all too much, as she was in a green tank top, jean capris, and those heeled sandals. It was an outfit that I used to wear the past few summers. But now, I was in an indigo polo and khaki shorts. Shorts with massive pockets that I wasted little time digging through before pulling out my phone and checking my weather app.
“It’s 18 degrees outside and the wind’s at 10 km,” I said with a snicker.
“Seriously? They said the low was going to be 20,” Mom replied, a bitterness in her voice.
“Well, we’ve only got two more blocks to go and then we can warm up.”
“Oh… right. …I should make us some tea when we get home. Have you decided on your usual yet?”
“Just black’s fine, Mom. I don’t like the fruity stuff as much as I thought I would.”
“You know, your palette’s never going to change unless you experiment a little.”
“Fine, throw in some of that nutmeg you like.”
“Hm… I should think about getting some new tea. I know which ones I liked, but if I’m having two cups a day, I should throw in some more variety.”
As Lynne made that comment, she pulled her phone out of the backpack and began ‘swipe typing’ away at her notes app before placing her phone between her boobs.
“Real classy, Mom.”
“Oh, grow up. I’ve seen women in their fifties do the same damn thing. This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t so hard to find good pockets, but I know you’ve heard that enough from Maxine over the years.”
“You could always bust out the sewing kit and extend your pockets?”
“It… has been a long time since I last sewed, and doing it for every pocket seems excessive. Besides, most of the time I have my purse. I just didn’t feel the need to bring it with me today.”
She was acting defensive— a bit antsy— I thought it was weird at first, but then I remembered that’s how she always was when she got cold, so this was nothing new. Still, seeing her fall into these quirks brought a smile to my face, and it lasted until we arrived at our home.
I made my way to my room, throwing myself onto my bed and pulling out my phone, checking up on whatever I missed while at the pool party. The world had gotten a lot more complicated since I was this age, since I moved into this house, and sometimes it was staggering the sheer volume of information that modern teens had to keep up with. And as a modern teen, I had an obligation to keep up with trends. It was good for socializing, and quintessential to make the most of my college experience. …Not that I would get much of a true ‘college experience’ unless I moved out.
Part of me knew Lynne would let me move out. That she would encourage me to make the most of my life. And I know she would be okay on her own. She was still coming to grips with things, and had to keep a notebook to track what I had in my head, but she was making quick progress, and falling into her role quickly. It’s why I went straight to my bedroom. Because she didn’t need me as much as she did two months ago.
I enjoyed doing those things because they made me feel valued and appreciated, and I guess Lynne learned that herself. It’s why she volunteered to give me tea and why she comes in with a plate of veggies once a day. She found what drove me and made it her own. While I… took a different path.
As I identified something to talk about during dinner, I heard a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said, still laying on my bed.
Lynne walked in, her hair still wet, and a smile on her face.
“Just wanted to let you know that the tea— and dinner— are ready.”
I paused and looked at my clock, which said it was already a quarter past 18.
“Oh. Heh. Time flies when you get sucked in.”
While I wasn’t that hungry— because I had three courses of meat for lunch— I had enough experience to know that if I didn’t have dinner now, I’d just be hungry an hour later. And with this stomach, I could always make room, and I didn’t need to worry about putting on a pound.
I got out of bed and walked with Lynne to the kitchen. We had a dining area, but when we had meals together, we just used the little end table pushed up against the kitchen wall. A table with our teas, still steaming hot, bags already removed, and dinner. It was leftover schnitzel and paella from earlier in the week, along with broccoli and cauliflower that she made in the multicooker. Nothing too fancy, and it was a bit of an odd combo, but I served weirder things when trying to clean out the fridge.
Digging in, I was reminded of how far Lynne came since we started our cooking lessons in January. It didn’t taste quite as good as when I made it, even when accounting for my new taste buds. But she was making strides, and I could tell she was enjoying the act of cooking, even with how she seasoned the vegetables to complement the rest of the meal.
I watched her as I ate, sipping her pomegranate lemon tea, clasping her cup with her limber fingers, nails painted a faint lavender, finishing it before touching her meal. I found myself analyzing her, as if I was conducting a performance review to see how well she captured being Caroline Steticks, and… she definitely passed. While there was a slight brashness to her movements… nobody who looked at her would have the slightest inclination that she was not who she appeared to be. A beautiful 35-year-old woman.
She had captured me so elegantly and quickly, while I… didn’t do the same.
I stopped halfway through my meal and drank the rest of my tea before slamming my mug against the table, making a noise that echoed through the kitchen. Lynne picked up on my lack of subtlety and immediately went into ‘mom mode.’
“Jad, what’s wrong?”
“I… I just feel like I need to say I’m sorry.”
“For what? I told you I don’t need your help with dinner anymore. I’m a big girl and I can take care of meal prep all by myself. …Though, I won’t say no if you want to help me chop veggies.”
“Lynne, you know what. I… I took your life and ran with it. I stopped taking HRT, started acting more like a guy than you ever did and—”
“Jad, it’s okay. That body… never suited me anyway. As strange as it is to say, but I feel more comfortable in your skin than I think I ever did in my own. If anything, I feel bad about putting you through this.”
“Is that why you’re acting so much like me? Why you’ve taken on the role of a mother with a smile on your face?”
Lynne paused for a moment before responding
“Well, I think there was some of that at first, but the more I tried living like this, the more I… liked it. I know it might be hard to believe Jad, but I like being your mom. It’s fun seeing things from the other side like this, and… it just feels like everything’s already there for me. I might have lost 17 years of my life, but I also do not need to worry about so many things. I don’t need to worry about school, finding a job, maintaining a career, making money, or worrying about my future. I don’t need to go through my own gender transition and several intensive surgeries. I’m a homeowner, I have a son I love very much, and just knowing that all of these life goals are already accomplished… It makes me happy.”
She told me this many times, but… never quite so succinctly.
“When you put it like that, you got off easy, huh? I need to work for a living and deal with all of that crap. Though, I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t a dream come true for me. I love you, Lynne, but when I had you at 16, my life had to stop. Taking care of you and Bryce became my world, and that’s part of the reason why I… did not appreciate my life as much as I should have. I thought about starting over during my darkest moments but now… I don’t have to. I didn’t ever necessarily want to be a guy, but it seemed… interesting to me after I got to experiment with the VD. And now, 76 days into a man’s life… I’ve taken a liking to it.”
“I’d give you shit for technically detransitioning my body, but I understand. The process of transitioning is hard, long, and tiresome. You stopped HRT as an experiment, to try things out on the other side, and… now you’re a man.”
I felt something swell up inside me as she called me a man. I guess that just meant it was true.
“When you really think about it, I guess that means we’re both trans,” I said half-jokingly
“Heh. I guess so. You ‘transitioned’ by detransitioning.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound quite right. I was never the best with all this terminology, but—”
“No, it does sound silly, Jad. It’s something that only makes sense in a world where body swapping exists… or existed I suppose.”
“Yeah… me and the rest of the parents got up to some weird shit during spring break, and I’m going to miss that.”
“Do I even want to know?”
“Short version is that it was an orgy, and we forgot who was who a few drinks in. I’m pretty sure I had sex with—”
“Okay, Son. Let’s stop using the past possessives. We stopped using them for a reason.”
I chucked at her request, before giving her precisely what she asked for.
“Okay, Mom. Would you rather I tell you about how Barbara was in your body and how you fucked her while inside Daisuke’s?”
“I… will ask you for the details later.”
As Lynne blushed at the eroticism of the concept I just offered, I realized our plates were both empty.
“I’ll handle the dishes, Mom. You do… whatever you wanna do.”
Lynne then scampered off, leaving me with a single load of dishes. Normally, we had more, thanks to water bottles and tupperware, but tonight was a lighter load, and it only took me about 5 minutes. Next, I just had to find out where Lynn went.
While I liked this home, it was too damn big for just two people. There was the living room, dining room, den, kitchen, basement, three upstairs bedrooms, and the ground floor laundry room we had built out during our vacation in Europe. You could easily fit a family of five in this house, even six. I actually thought about renting a room out… back when I owned it, but I was never sure if roommates would be worth the hassle. Well, unless they were good kids. Like Gem, Anita, or Vivi.
Regardless, I was able to find Lynne pretty quickly, as she was in the den. A room that we turned into an entertainment lounge last month, bringing in a couch, TV, and some furnishings, so that all of our video game stuff could be put in there, and not in my room. This included the consoles, games, and the desktop PC. Lynne already had a laptop, and I traded out the desktop in my room for something portable for college. It was certainly a better alternative to schlepping around 7 kilograms of textbooks every day.
Musings aside, I opened up the entertainment lounge and saw Lynne on the couch, controller in hand, headphones on her head, sitting cross-legged. I threw myself onto the couch next to her as she played and peered at the screen for a moment, trying to remember the name of the game she was playing.
Growing up, I played video games at my friends’ houses from time to time, but they were never something I got too invested in. My parents weren’t wealthy, and weren’t going to drop money on a Nintendo or even an Atari, let alone buy games for it. Hell, we didn’t even get a VCR until 1992. But when Lynne was a little kid, she started asking for video games all the time, and, like a good mother, I bought what she wanted. A GameBoy Advance in 2001, a GameCube in 2002, PS2 in 2004, Nintendo DS in 2006— the list goes on.
When she was a kid, I tried to enjoy games with her, helping her grasp the basics based on what little experience I had, and playing alongside her. It was a social thing for us… until she started hanging out with Maxxie— er, rather, Barbara. Video games were a huge part that brought them together and Lynne stopped playing with her mom. Although, I did occasionally check out some of her games when I was lounging around the house, thinking they would help me understand her better. Well, that’s what I told myself, but they were also just plain old fun.
But after things were getting worse around Bryce and Lynne brought her game consoles into her room, I more or less stopped playing them, and hadn’t tried getting back into them until December 2014. We spent a day in each other’s bodies, living each other’s lives to the best of our abilities. And part of living this life involved playing Super Smash Bros. for Wii U, which… I still can’t believe that’s the actual title for a video game that has sold millions of copies.
She later gave me her… original Nintendo 3DS after she got a capital-N New Nintendo 3DS XL in February, and let’s just say it significantly cut into my reading time. Video games started becoming a usual talking point during our dinners together and, once we settled into our new bodies, it became something of a shared activity for us.
She was naturally way better and more knowledgeable than me, because she spent a decade plus memorizing this stuff, but I enjoyed seeing her go on her rambles. Eagerly showing me certain games, telling me about the history of the medium, and showing me the reasons why she personally fell in love with it. Sometimes she played while I watched along. Other times I did it by myself before she poked her head in to give me some pointers. And we even did the occasional ‘mother and son’ livestream.
Video games became a leisurely activity that brought us together, and one that made me feel more… appropriate in my role as a son. I mean, sure, people of all ages and genders play video games, but when you’re a young man, such as myself, people kind of expect you to be into video games.
Oh God. Did I seriously go on such a long and detailed ramble? I guess I really am living up to my title as Jad…
Personal history lesson aside, I eventually realized that Lynne was playing The Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt. A tentpole ‘game of the year’ contender that put our PC through the ringer, and it certainly showed with its lushly detailed forest landscapes and overall level of detail. However, it was also one of those ‘go with the flow’ sort of games, where there was a main storyline to follow, but a whole world to explore. A world full of ‘micro-stories’ that often featured more unique or interesting elements than the ‘main plot.’ It was a type of narrative design unique to the bold frontier for storytelling that was the medium of video games.
As someone who used to go through about 30 novels a year, I had a certain love of storytelling, and seeing something like this that could not be done in a more linear piece of fiction deeply captivated me. That, and its more playful elements were just so… endearing. Such as the current ‘questline’ that Lynne was on, which involved her giving some ingredients to a witch who used magic to turn mice into horses. Despite being a game with no shortage of more mature subject matter, it still had the confidence to be silly, and I appreciated that.
We sat there for a little over two hours, talking, playing, all while Lynne analyzed the game, pointing out reasons why it is so great, and also making a few, mostly petty, criticisms. As per usual, she occasionally handed me the controller, so I could better understand what the game was trying to do. I enjoyed steering conversations and exploring the world, searching for ‘goodies,’ but the combat felt… strange. It felt more like I was telling the player character to attack instead of actually controlling their attacks, and I was still trying to understand how the magic system worked. But I’d chock that up to me still being a bit of a ‘newbie’ when it comes to these things.
As the hours passed and the clock below the TV read 21:20, Lynne got up and did a quick stretch.
“I think that’s enough gaming for me tonight. I’m going to get ready for bed, and do try to go to sleep before midnight. You need to get on a better schedule.”
I groaned as she made such a ‘mom’ comment. Though it was true that I have stayed up until one in the morning some nights. Mostly because I was scrolling through shit on my phone, trying to get caught up on what ‘kids like me’ were like, or freshening up on school stuff I forgot over the past 16 or so years. What can I say? Being a college kid took a lot of research if you’ve been out of the game for as long as I’ve been.
Meanwhile, Lynne had the internal clock of a mother and housewife. Her body was trained to get up at 6 so that she could get her son’s breakfast and lunch ready. And while she could have broken that trend now that her son’s out of high school, she didn’t.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be in bed by 23 if it’ll make you happy,” I said with a smirk on my face.
“School’s starting soon, and I don’t want you to be late for classes because you felt like sleeping in until 10. …Speaking of which, what was your final class schedule again?”
“Um… three classes on Monday and Wednesday, 11:30 to 15:35. English Composition, Finite Math, and Western Civilization Since 1650. With Introduction To Sociology on Tuesday, 9:30 to 12:20.”
“Look at you, ya little planning wiz, you got yourself a 4-day weekend!”
Lynne ruffled my hair as she complimented me. It was something I used to do when our roles were reversed and… it always felt better than I expected.
“Yeah, well, I could have jumped up to 15 credit hours, but—”
“But I told you no. That you needed to adapt to college life. Besides, you could always catch up with a summer class in 2016.”
“Or I could just take five years to finish college.”
“That too. Whatever floats your boat, Jad.”
With that, Lynne began walking out of the repurposed den and upstairs to her room. I watched her as she left, lightly sashaying her hips as her capris wrapped around her figure. It was… something I developed into muscle memory when I was living with Bryce. Because it’s what he wanted. Even after he left my life, this gesture became a part of the old me, and now… a part of Lynne.
While I had a vast game library before me, I felt the need to wind down a little. So I headed up to my room, plopped on some headphones, and picked up where I was at in Neuromancer. Genre fiction like this was never really my forte, but it was something that caught my eye when we went to a used bookstore last month, if only for its ominous cover and the praise along its back. That, and it seemed like something a teenage boy would have flopping around in his backpack.
The novel’s dystopic future was simultaneously captivating, poignant, and quaint with its technological inaccuracies and disproportionate developments. While my musical selection, a playlist of the non-vocal songs by the 80s Japanese electronic group, Yellow Magic Orchestra, served as a strangely fitting backing track.
It was not something that I listened to in my past life, but rather an artifact found when Lynne and I merged our music libraries shortly after the swap. While we wanted to live as our new selves, music is deeply personal, so we did not want to abandon our old favorites. …But we also felt that we needed to diversify our tastes to better fit our new bodies. So merging them, copying them, and subsequently curating them seemed like the best approach.
Listening to so much music proved to be an… interesting experience for me. One that made me question the adage that one stops looking or enjoying new music after they enter their thirties. We both were listening to a lot of new things, and enjoying them even with my 35-year-old mind, and her 35-year-old body. Was this due to a discrepancy between the mind and the body, or was this just something that affected a select group of people, and not everyone. …Probably the latter.
As the clock reached 22:00, I asked myself if I should try to turn in early. With my body just starting to feel sore from all the swimming earlier today, I decided that turning in early wouldn’t be the worst thing. Besides, as an 18-year-old, I was supposed to get up to ten hours of sleep a night, right?
I hit up the bathroom, brushing my teeth, washing my face, taking a nice hard look at my bright green eyes and handsome features, before finally taking a piss. It was something I had developed an almost childlike excitement around. No longer was I bound by the constraints of sitting to pee, now I could just whip it out, take aim, and let it all flow out as I stood by. I would say it was relaxing… but I made messes a bit too often to ever be fully relaxed when taking a wiz.
My penis wasn’t anything special. It was a slightly below average five inches, but it fit nicely into my hand and got the job done. Dicks always seemed odd and mysterious from an outside perspective, but with one in my control… it’s almost like a toy. When your thoughts take a turn for the sexy, it gets hard, and when it gets hard, you just stroke while the good vibes fill your being before BAM! It fires in spurts, sending waves of happy juices from your bottom head and through your top head. Sure, there was less of a buildup and more of a cooldown, but… I understood why guys liked thinking with their dicks. Because it felt good and made you feel cool!
With my dick hard and poking through my shorts, I left the bathroom, contemplating if I should jerk off before going to bed. Before making that decision however, I felt the need to check in on Lynne and wish her goodnight… or tell her to put her book down and get some sleep. As I approached the door, I heard her voice, slid open the door just a smidgen, and saw her in her lavender nightie, her hand between her legs and her face red. I felt my briefs get a little tighter and, one second later, I knocked on the door.
“Need help with something?” I asked, my tone almost insufferably cocky.
Five seconds passed before she responded.
“I think I do… come on in, Jad,” she said, her voice sultry and longing.
I saw Lynne on the bed, presenting her body to me. Her nightie covered her in an opaque fabric, but the curves of her body were plain as day, and her slender legs guided me all the way to her painted toenails.
She stared at me with her shimmering blue eyes, shot me a toothy grin, and angled her chest to give me a generous view of her cleavage. Her loose blonde hair fluttered slightly from the summer’s breeze coming in from the open window, and she casually curled two fingers back, beckoning me to join her in bed. She was hot. She knew it. She loved it. And… I loved it too.
I closed the door behind me and began to strip out of my clothes, pulling off my shirt and shorts to reveal my lean body, my arms and legs lightly covered in dark hairs. As Lynne looked at me, I saw her eyes trending downward. Not at what I had in my briefs, but at the small wads of fat I had hanging from my chest, and my enlarged nipples. A remnant from HRT that would diminish over time, but never go away without surgery. They looked slightly ajar on my male frame. Noticeable, but not necessarily large enough to look ‘wrong’ or explicitly ‘female.’ I mean, shit, Bryce had bigger tits once he stopped working out.
However, as Lynne looked over at me, her composed and eager disposition faltered. She contracted her spread out form, pushing her necks under her body and crossing her arms over her chest. She turned around, looking out an open window before letting out a sign and asking me a question.
“Should we… really keep doing this? You’re my son, I’m your mother and…”
I sighed as my mind flashed back to how this predicament began.
Before discovering the VD, both of us were… not the biggest fans of sex. Lynne was always asexual. She would always freak out about nudity, even as a kid. She thought that private parts should be private and was uncomfortable with seeing anyone else’s. For me? Well, to me, sex was directly associated with Bryce. He took my virginity, I made love to him to show my appreciation for all he did for me, and I provided him with sex when he became demanding. It was something I enjoyed but… learned to hate as he lost the tenderness of a lover and became bestial.
When we divorced, my interest in sex died, and I went without sexual pleasure for over three years… until New Year’s 2015. After that, I became part of our little ‘adult swap club.’ My former self, Kenneth, Eleanore, Daisuke, Paz, ‘Barbara,’ and Natasha. I enjoyed it. The liquor, surreality, and casual peer pressure made things exciting. There was an inherent eroticism to having a different body, different senses, and different parts, albeit in a subtle way.
My sexual identity at that time was strange. It felt like I was playing around, trying things out, and once it was over, I would be as disinterested in sex as I was back when I began the divorce proceedings. That changed when I stopped being Caroline and started being Jad. We gave ourselves freedom to make these bodies our own, for there was no way back to ‘normal.’ I waited a week before I tried anything, dealing with it getting hard as I thought about any number of things. Guys, girls, whatever. Sometimes, it seemed to have a mind of its own.
After a week of this, I rediscovered sexual pleasure. I quickly made it a daily habit, going once, twice, even thrice, as I experimented with where my newly rebooted sexuality lied. But then, like so many teenage boys, I got caught. On June 23, Mom walked in on me with my dick in my hand, shorts around my knees, sex on my screen, and moaning in my ears. The volume was too high, I didn’t hear her knock, and I felt part of me die from embarrassment at that moment.
She looked at me with an equal amount of shock at first, before she gave me a slightly forced smile, telling me that dinner was ready. At dinner, Lynne said she was glad I was enjoying myself, reinforced how masturbation was healthy… even though jacking it was never her thing.
I still felt bad and didn’t think I could sleep without apologizing to her. So, at a quarter to 22, I walked up to her bedroom, and heard the sounds of moaning from the door. The sounds I used to make to appease Bryce. I don’t know what compelled me to open up that door and peek inside, but I saw Lynne, one hand between her legs, another on her breasts, her face red and elated.
I tried to go to sleep after that, but I couldn’t. The sight of her, of what used to be my body, in that state of erotic bliss, it drove my penis wild, and I had to appease the beast. The following day, I once again masturbated while thinking of Lynne. At the fantasy of her soliciting me. Of me soliciting her. Of her assaulting me. Of me assaulting her. Even when I tried to use normal porn to satiate me, these thoughts popped in.
I managed to quit masturbating a week ahead of our European vacation, from July 11 to July 25. I had always wanted to visit Europe. To see the world beyond Washington and Illinois, and to go on a vacation with my favorite person in the world. We had a wonderful time during our first few days, traveling mostly in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland on account of Lynne’s high school German. Not that we really needed, as everybody spoke English.
However, when we were in Cologne, we decided to have some beers with our dinner, as was the local custom. At least, that’s what the ridiculously hot waiter said. Lynne’s body hadn’t seen a drink since 2013, my body had never tasted a drop of alcohol. So, after three beers, we were drunk as shit. I don’t even know how we got back to our hotel, but once we were there, I remember seeing her strip, her movements sloppy and exaggerated.
As she laid there, pleasuring herself, I had to force myself to look away. Force myself to ignore the burning sensations coursing through my dick. I thought she would ignore me and get off, but instead she shoved my face into her boobs, hugging me as tightly as a drunk woman could. I told her to stop or else I’d wind up fucking her. And she… she told me to go for it.
“Fick mich, Jad.”
You didn’t need to know much German to make sense of that and… I did it. I fucked the person who was once my daughter and became my mother. It was clumsy, disorientating, and messy as all hell. But I still remember the rush of euphoria that ran through my being as our lips met, as our nipples brushed against each other, and as I locked into her.
We woke up at 9, our heads aching and our bodies covered in dry sweat and the remnants of cum. She looked at me, I looked at her, and we realized what we had done. She started crying. Crying about how she was a terrible mother, how she was nothing but a perverted freak, how she was a monster, and how she ruined my dream vacation.
“Lynne,” I began, clasping her shoulder, “you didn’t ruin anything. If anything, you… you brought a fantasy of mine to life.”
She looked up at me with tear-stained eyes, an incredulous look on her face.
“On June 23rd, when you caught me masturbating, I went into your bedroom at around 22:00. I just wanted to apologize again but, as I opened the door, I saw you… jilling off. I shut the door, went back to my bedroom and… masturbated. To you. To the idea of us being together.”
“I… On June 23rd, I was masturbating while thinking of you. Seeing you fap, enjoying yourself, embracing your inner maleness with such joy on your face… it set something off within me. I tried to sleep that night, but I kept thinking about it and…”
“So, we both masturbated to each other?” I said, progressing the conversation.
“We both did but… that doesn’t make it right. That doesn’t mean it was okay for us to actually fuck each other. We’re family, we shouldn’t—”
“Why?” I asked, grabbing her shoulders.
“Because it’s incest, Jad! It—”
“And what are the reasons why ‘incest is bad?’”
“B-Because it’s an abuse of power and relationships are—”
“Lynne, we both wear the scars of abuse, we know what it is like to be around an abuser, and we never want to hurt each other, do we?”
“No, you’re… the only family I have, and the very idea of hurting you in any way… disgusts me.”
“Reason number two, whatever it is, can probably be thrown away because of how fucked our situation is. Mother became son, daughter became mother, and depending on how you look at it, just by living, masturbating, or making these bodies our own, we are abusing them. We both felt that way at first, but now… I think we’ve started making these bodies our own. Do you agree?”
“…I do,” Lynne replied, her brow furrowed as she thought. “This is my body. That was my body but… this will be my body for the rest of my life. Eventually, I will have been Lynne for longer than I have been anyone else and, in doing so, I am stealing something from you—”
“And I am stealing something from you,” I said sitting next to her.
She looked at me with a small smile, before looking down at her hands, thinking of what reason number three could be. But, like a jerk, I spoke before she could.
“And no, we are never going to try having a kid—”
“W-What? Oh, God. I didn’t even think about that. I’m… not ready to have a second child… or be a grandmother.”
Lynne then stood up, poured a glass of water, dug through her suitcase, and plopped a tiny white pill into her mouth before drinking the entire glass.
“…Did you bring morning-after pills?” I asked.
“Barbara recommended it. She was worried that ‘a pretty lady like me’ might get raped, so I bought some before the trip. Never thought I’d be the one to initiate sex… or that it would be with my own son.”
From there, I just laughed at how mature and thoughtful she was— how she was thinking like a 35-year-old woman— and the humor was not lost on her.
We felt we needed some time to digest what we had discussed and went our separate ways as we explored the city. We reunited for dinner eight hours later and did not say a word about what happened this morning… until we went back to the hotel room. Once there, Lynne placed a hand on me and asked if I wanted to try again. This time sober, and this time with more consent. I said yes.
After we took a moment to reflect on the past, we looked up at each other. Lynne in her nighty, me in my briefs. As she looked me over, she repeated her thought from before.
“You’re my son, I’m your mother, and…”
“If it feels so good, and nobody gets hurt, then it can’t be wrong?”
“Heh. Something like that. So, are you ready for round ten?”
“Are you seriously going to keep count?”
“Eh, sure, why not? I’m already keeping tallies of how often I masturbate… aren’t you?”
“Um, no? Is that something I should do?”
“It’s something that Barbara told me that most people do. But in retrospect, she was probably just messing with me. So, are you ready?”
I slid out of my briefs and threw them into the laundry basket before grabbing a condom from a dresser drawer, putting it on while Lynne undressed herself. She hung up her nightie in her wardrobe before sliding down her panties, flinging them toward the basket, where they landed dead center.
She made a triumphant fist pump as she landed a target on the other side of the room, her breasts shaking as she did so. I gave her a light clap, recognizing her feat, as she returned to bed, adopting the pose she had when I first came into the room.
“I’m a little tired, so… I’ll let you lead this time, Jad.”
“With pleasure, Lynne.”
Having spent 35 years in her body, having fucked thousands of times in that body, Lynne was still years away from knowing it as well as I did. But, as always, I intended to show her the finer features of her body, the small little spots that always felt so good.
I began by bringing my lips to hers, our tongues touching, circling around one another, while our bodies pressed closer. Arms swung over our backs. Nipples rubbed against each other. And as I felt my dick brush up against her dampened crotch, I pulled my rear back and took aim. She pulled her lips away from mine as I entered her, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy.
As I began to set a rhythm for her to follow, pulling myself in and out, to and fro, she brought her hands to my chest and, with the ends of her nails, began to pinch my nipples. A shock went through my body as a smile grew on her face.
“So, how do they feel? Are they still tender?”
“They are… and I like it. I like it a lot.”
Before I could bring my mouth to her nipples, she leaped up to mine, brushing her tongue against my supple breasts and using her teeth to pinch them. Though not quite as sensitive as they were back in June, they still housed a cluster of nerves and having them pleased so thoroughly… just made me go faster and harder.
The thing I loved about having a dick was how it doubled as a tool. A tool for both giving and receiving pleasure. All it took was the right angle, the right amount of force, and the right knowledge of your partner. If you had all three, you could lock them in a state of purest pleasure. It was something that I had experienced… long ago. But now, I was on the other end, looking down at a pair of blue eyes that glistened with every thrust I made, and a face that twitched whenever I found an ‘extra sensitive’ spot.
Once the well-trodden groove was rediscovered, it did not take long for Lynne to discharge the first time, and even less time for the second and third. Once she was floating, I began to focus on myself. I had been holding back as my nipples were titillated, but as she switched her mouth to the other side, biting down on it slightly, I lost my resolve. Our eyes locked as I felt my penis pulsate inside her, the condom filling up with my semen, and her breathing growing heavy as the condom expanded within her. She brought her arms around my back, urging me to stay until I was done. Once I was, she brought her head down to her pillow, and I pulled out of her.
As I removed my condom, I took a brief look into the condom itself and saw that its semen was still faint and cloudy. HRT had lowered my body’s sperm production, and it would still be a few weeks, maybe months, before it recovered. In that sense, the condoms were unnecessary. But I didn’t want to force Lynne to use birth control, as it always made her feel bloated.
After tying it off my condom and flinging it into the waste bin, I laid back into the bed with Lynne, who wasted little time kissing me and bringing a hand to my chest.
“You know,” Lynne began, “I never did end up playing with these things myself. Or with that thing either. I know I had my reservations, but… I really should have fucked once just so I would better know what it’s like on your end, sweetie.”
“Lynne, I’m a guy. You don’t need to worry about ‘pleasing me.’ So long as I can wrap my dick in something tight and warm, I’m good.”
“You didn’t mention wet.”
“Wetness helps, but it’s not a requirement. Barbara told me to use those fold and close sandwich baggies, the ones without a zipper— to masturbate. Honestly, I don’t even know how the ‘lotion and tissues’ method is supposed to work.”
“Me neither… Anyway, I tried masturbating in other girls’ bodies. Maxine, Shiaka, and Barbara. But I still have a certain sense of… maybe not regret, but wonder about what could have been to have sex with a penis.”
“If you could’ve, who would you have fucked? Maxxie?”
“We said we would stop using our old names… Most likely, yes. She would have been elated even if there was no body swapping involved.”
“Really? When did you figure this out?”
“Um… March, I guess. I realized that a girl doesn’t ask someone to masturbate unless she wants to fuck them. However… I just could never get comfortable with it. Now that I am not as sexually… repressed, I think I would enjoy having a penis for a night. Alas,that is a mere fantasy. With no way to swap, there is no way for me to experience what it is like to penetrate someone.”
“Um, Lynne, you know they have sex toys to help with that, right? Barbara’s got a $200 double-ended strap-ons and it feels really nice. It was a prop in one of those adult swap parties you ‘just can’t seem to remember.’ But I do remember you mentioning how much you loved it.”
Lynne scoffed at my comment before replying.
“Well, if I loved it, then I’m sure we would love it, Son… but are you okay with having your mother fuck your ass?”
“Sure, why not? It’ll be a fun bonding experience for the two of us, and I’ve been curious about ‘prostate orgasms’ anyway.”
As we laughed about our absurd situation and relationship, I turned off the light, shut the window, and joined Lynne under the covers. She was on her side, facing away from me, and while I could have just taken the other end of the bed, I nudged closer to her. I moved until my chest was an inch away from her back, our bent legs were parallel, my arms were around her stomach, and my crotch was right against her butt. I was still feeling a little frisky, so I couldn’t help but get a boner in this position, entering Lynne’s butt ever so slightly, to which she laughed, turning her head around.
“Sorry honey, but no round two tonight. I’ve got a lot of cooking tomorrow.”
“If that’s the case, then I’ll help out with the chopping.”
“I said you didn’t need—”
“I want to. And for no real reason other than… I love ya, Mom.”
As she let out a small laugh, I planted three tiny kisses on her neck.
From there, things grew quiet. The darkness settled in, my eyes began to drop, and our breathing synchronized.
For as bizarre as things have been this summer, for as unusual as our relationship was, I was… happy with how things turned out. I was happy as Jad. She was happy as Lynne. We had bright futures ahead of us. So, in the end… I think this proved to be a pleasant flip.
