SUNDAY MORNING

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me," muttered Francesca.

"It's an important life stage," I said. "I know you've been avoiding it,
but all men have to go through it at some point. It can get messy but
think about how good it'll feel afterwards."

"And you do this every day?"

"Not every day. I don't always bother at the weekend. Now hold still."

Francesca stared into the bathroom mirror. I'd worked shaving foam
across the whole lower half of her face, then brought a high stool from
the kitchen so I could reach up to make a start. For a moment, her face
was level with mine in the mirror and I thought "oh yes, that's what it
looks like." I felt strangely dispassionate about it. Maybe once you'd
had a different face, you became less attached to the old one or
something.

"Right," I said, and carefully drew the razor up Francesca's throat with
a rasping sound. She made a high-pitched noise but managed to keep
still.

"Oh my god," I said. "You've shaved your legs, I know that for a fact."

"Yeah, but it's not like, a thicket. All right, go away, I can do the
rest."

I didn't go away, I sat on the stool and watched as Francesca carefully
shaved my face until it was back to how I'd last left it. When she was
done, she turned it from side to side.

"You do have a nice face, you know. It's very calm. I think if I were to
get stuck as you, I would end up calmer just because of that."

"Well let's just hope that doesn't happen," I said uneasily.

She rinsed the last of the foam off, splashed her face with cold water
then put on some moisturiser.

"Mmm, you were right. That does feel good."

"And you're done!" I was still sitting on the stool. My feet didn't even
touch the ground and I didn't feel like hopping down in front of her,
like a child.

She turned to smile at me. "You'd make a great mum." She winced. "I mean
dad." Then she looked down at my bare legs and her face changed. "Wait,
you shaved my legs?"

I nodded.

"I don't know how I feel about that."

"I didn't like the stubbly feel. I can see how you get locked into the
whole grooming cycle now. Also, your armpits. And I..." I may as well
tell her. "Tidied up. Down there."

She took it surprisingly well. "Okay. Well then. You got the whole
experience. I assume you don't want me to do any manscaping while I'm
here?"

I shrugged. "I honestly don't know when anyone would see." She was
looking at me strangely. "What?"

She reached out, gently prodded the side of my face with a finger. "I'm
almost forgetting that's my face. I'm just seeing... a person."

"Is that bad?"

"I'm just so used to looking for imperfections, things people are going
to criticise, things I have to hide. You know if I don't thread those
eyebrows sometime in the next week, they're going to look insane."

"I barely even know what that means."

She was still looking at me. I lifted my chin up, turned from side to
side so she could see all over.

"Huh," she said. "Maybe it won't be so bad when I get back in there."

"Maybe you could make it sound a bit less sinister?"

She leaned against the wall. "I've wasted this time, haven't I? Lying on
the sofa, watching rubbish telly, pouring booze into your body. Did you
say you went to a party?"

"In your cat onesie," I said.

"Oh my God."

I decided not to mention the dancing.

"I've done nothing," she continued.

"You came out to the university to tell me about my dad. That was decent
of you."

She shrugged uncomfortably then turned to face herself in the mirror
again. "I really am a straight bloke," she said wonderingly.

"Yes. For another two days."

She turned to me. "So, what you do see? When you look at me, I mean?"

I thought about it. Like her, I wasn't seeing myself anymore. I saw a
man, familiar, perhaps a few years older than I remembered, a little
crinkled around the eyes. Which were nice eyes. Still in good shape, the
dressing gown was only loosely belted and the body underneath didn't
have sculpted abs, by any means, but it wasn't flabby either.

I watched, almost as if someone else was in charge, as I reached out
with my legs, hooking my ankles around Francesca's thighs gently pulling
her towards me.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not sure," I said. My heart was beating faster now. I was still
perched on the stool, my ankles now hooked behind Francesca's legs.
Reaching out, I placed a hand on her broad chest, feeling her heart
beating under my palm. The heart in my current chest was beating faster
now.

"I think I want to get over myself," I said hesitantly, as my hand
changed direction, sliding down beneath the waistband of Francesca's
boxers until it reached... something I hadn't felt for a few days.

Francesca's eyes widened. "Oh wow," she managed, her voice suddenly
husky.

I could hardly breathe now. "Honestly," I said, "I have no idea what I'm
doing."

"I do," said Francesca, gently moving my knees apart and pushing herself
between them. She leaned down and kissed me then and I was glad I didn't
have to deal with my own stubble scratching my face, just soft skin and
harder lips and those big hands sliding up my thighs and around my
waist. Those hands.

Francesca pulled away from me. "I feel like this would be an excellent
way to get over ourselves once and for all."

I hardly dared breathe now. "I mean, it's like therapy, in a way. If you
think about it"

Francesca's hands dug under my thighs now and to my shock, she lifted me
bodily off the stool, holding me up, our faces level. We stared at each
other for a moment. I could smell her breath, minty with toothpaste. And
feel her pressing against my shorts.

"There's, um, protection. In my room. You know," I said helpfully.

"Okay," she said absently, and carried me there, then laid me down
gently on the bed.

"Top drawer," I said urgently. "On the left."

While Francesca rummaged frantically through the drawers, I took in my
surroundings for a moment. My bedroom. My real bedroom, with shelves of
literary classics (and a tonne of American crime fiction, I wasn't a
complete snob), a couple of Japanese prints, desk and chair, and a bed
that wasn't as big as the one in Francesca's bedroom, but I imagined
would be big enough.

"I'm good," said Francesca, shrugging off the dressing gown and yanking
off her boxers and she hunched over to do ... what had to be done.
"Don't watch!"

"Shit, sorry!" I managed, turning away. Oh wait, yes, I probably needed
to remove some clothes too.

By the time Francesca had joined me on the bed I'd banished the shorts
to a corner of the room and left the t-shirt on a potted plant on the
desk.

"That's a start," said Francesca. She kissed me again, her hands moving
round, sliding up and between my thighs, fingers pressing firmly against
me through the thin fabric of the panties.

I shuddered involuntarily. This wasn't like being with Katie at all, who
was in height and build my equal, practically a mirror image of
Francesca, every bit as soft and yielding. My body, the body Francesca
was occupying right now, was six inches taller and at least two stone
heavier, nothing yielding about it. Katie certainly couldn't have
carried me all the way from the bathroom. I'd never thought of myself as
intimidating before but here, in this moment, I found myself left a
little breathless at how small I felt, how Francesca could do whatever
she wanted with me. Although it wasn't a bad feeling.

Big hands were moving around behind my back, struggling with the bra
strap.

"This is ridiculous," muttered Francesca. "It's my own bra."

"Let me," I said. I pushed her hands away and undid the strap myself,
the bra joining the t-shirt on the potted plant. I gasped at the sudden
coolness, instinctively putting my hands over my breasts to protect
myself.

"What are you doing?" said Francesca.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm all over the place." Slowly I moved my hands away.
Francesca leaned down, tracing kisses from the tops of one breast to the
nipple, then nipped it very gently with her teeth.

"Do you like that?" she whispered. "I always liked that." She moved her
hand to the waistband of my panties, glanced down and paused.

"Ooh," she said interested. "The dark purple ones. I hardly ever wear
those."

"Could you not?"

When Francesca had regained her focus and the panties were around my
knees, I helped them the rest of the way down myself then kicked them
off. I had no idea where in the room they landed and I didn't much care.

Francesca held herself above me, kissing the side of my neck, her hand
moving gently between my legs, where things were now a lot warmer and
wetter. I exhaled heavily as I felt her hand withdraw, replaced by the
stiff head of her penis and then... she stopped.

She looked down at me, eyes wide with alarm. "This is weird. This is so
weird. I don't know what to do."

I did. "Lie down," I said. Awkwardly, we reversed positions. I was
astride her now, gently caressing her, pushing my soft curls against her
stiff length.

Francesca glanced down at herself and swallowed. Taking her hands, I
placed them against my breasts, let her take the weight of them, rubbing
her thumbs against my nipples as I gently lifted myself up, feeling the
head of her penis slide against me again, then this time I slowly,
deliberately, lowered my broader hips down onto her an inch or so.

She gasped then, and for a moment I thought it was all going to be over.

"Still with me?" I managed, working hard at not getting overwhelmed
myself, because if I thought about the fact that what had once been my
own erect penis was now ready to enter what was now my well-lubricated
vulva, this could all fall apart very quickly. She nodded and I held
myself on her tip for a few moments longer then gently let myself move
down.

I was gasping now. This was not like being with Katie at all. This
wasn't like anything I'd known before. As I got into a rhythm, gently
raising myself up then letting go again, ripples of warmth spread, every
part of me connecting. Francesca had let go of my breasts, which, as I
was picking up the pace now, meant they were moving with considerably
more freedom than before, her strong fingers gripping my waist instead.

I pushed myself down hard one last time, biting my lip, grinding myself
around as if to not leave a millimetre wasted. Somewhere far away I
could hear Francesca panting as she tried to keep it together, although
my attention was on the warm melting feeling radiating out from
somewhere south of my stomach, the tingling in my toes and fingertips,
the warm heavy feeling in my breasts even as I lifted myself off and
rolled to one side, gasping.

"Oh my God," Francesca was muttering. "Oh my God."

When I'd got my breath back, I turned towards her. She didn't look like
she'd moved, still staring up at the ceiling, eyes wide.

"Did you, um...?" I enquired delicately, then looked down to see
Francesca was still pretty much good to go.

"No," she panted. "I... nearly, but I managed to hold on." She stared at
me. "I felt you. Me, I mean. That was intense."

"And you haven't even had the full experience yet," I reminded her. I
slid a hand down her torso until I met resistance, then gently wrapped
my fingers around what had not that long ago been mine. For a moment I
felt taken aback.

"That's what I thought before. Bigger than I remember," I said puzzled.
Then the penny dropped. "Smaller fingers."

"Okay," said Francesca, rolling onto her side. "Enough talk."

I kissed her, biting very gently on her lower lip. "What do you
recommend?"

"Ow," she said mildly, pulling away. "I know something I like very much.
I don't know whether you'll like it though."

I felt nervous then, a little flutter, stronger than before, but what
the hell. "Try me," I said.

Francesca flipped me onto my front. Literally, just put her big hands
under me and rolled me over until I was face-down on the bed. My hair
had got into my mouth and it wasn't until I'd spat it out that I
realised she was behind me now, pulling my ankles apart, pushing herself
between my legs until I could feel the edges of her legs between my
thighs and her hands around my waist, lifting my hips up into the air
until I was kneeling, my arse up in the air while my face was still down
on the pillow.

"Actually," I tried to say, "maybe we could take things a bit-" but she
was already inside me, fingers gripping me firmly around the waist while
she thrust into me, hard, like she was out for revenge.

I heard myself whimpering, but not in pain. Or not entirely. It was all
I could do to hold onto the headboard, bracing myself as Francesca
pushed herself into me over and over again. I shut my eyes tight, trying
to hold on as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me: Francesca's big
hands around my waist, the sound of her grunting behind me, my breasts
swaying back and forth, the trickle of sweat running down the small of
my back, the lock of hair that had worked its way back into my mouth
again, but this time there was nothing I could do about it. But oh man,
it was working.

Francesca paused for a second and I thought it was over, then to my
shock I heard a ringing slap then felt my right buttock sting red-hot. I
cried out, my eyes filling with tears as the pain hit, then Francesca
gasped and suddenly I felt her soften inside me and withdraw.

I let go of the headboard and collapsed. Beside me, Francesca made a
little sound as she removed the condom before knotting it and letting it
drop to one side.

She turned to me, caressing me, then saw my eyes. She clapped a hand to
her mouth in horror.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry! I just... It's... I've always wanted that but
never felt like I could ask and I then I didn't even know I-"

I exhaled heavily and a little shakily, then managed to grin at her.
"For the record, when you find you are able to ask someone to do that -
it very much hits the spot."

I rolled on my back, feeling the sweat - and everything else - beginning
to dry on me. We lay next to each other in silence. After a while,
Francesca's hand slipped onto my stomach then moved up, tracing lazy
circles around my aureole.

"That was... more emotional than I expected," she said finally. "A real
mix."

"Your emotions or mine, do you think?"

"I was so angry at you," she said softly. "At me. Maybe at who I've been
up to now. And then the second I... finished, I felt this incredible
sense of release. Of clarity."

I remembered that feeling. It hadn't occurred to me until then that
that's exactly what I hadn't felt. Not bad, just different. In
Francesca's body, it was like those feelings were still pinging around
distant parts of my body, a chain reaction still going on in some
distant neurons. I didn't want to let it go.

"Do you want to try again?" I said trying to sound more casual about it
than I really felt.

She made a doubtful noise, gestured broadly downwards. "I mean, sure,
but I don't know if you're quite up for it."

"Let me take care of that," I murmured and lifted myself up on one
elbow. My kisses began in the centre of Francesca's chest, then slowly
moved south.

"Um," said Francesca nervously. "That's actually quite... I wasn't
really expecting you to... please don't stop."

I couldn't say anything because my mouth was full.

"Okay then," said Francesca. "That seems to have... ooooohhhhh...."

Luckily, she managed to keep it together long enough to get another
condom on, and after that, at my own suggestion, she lifted me up onto
the chest of drawers and did me on it.

We lay under the duvet for a while, staring up at the ceiling.

"I hope you don't think," I said after a while, "that this is going to
affect your grades after half term in any way."

She slapped at me under the covers with a weak hand. I slapped her
back, just as limply, and realised she'd snuck her boxers back on.

"Ha," I said. "I do that. Did. It's much nicer sleeping naked as you
than it is as me."

"I just don't like everything all..."

"Flopping around?"

"Mmm."

I scratched a boob idly. "I need a shower."

Francesca grunted. I slipped out of the bed and for a ridiculous moment
considered winding a sheet round me, like a heroine in a romantic
comedy, but honestly, what was the point?

A moment later, the barely lukewarm water was trickling over me and
okay, it wasn't up to the standards I'd become accustomed to, but it
felt good. I washed my hair, mentally apologising in advance to
Francesca for the crappy shampoo and conditioner I'd bought cheap from
the market, and then I just stood there for a while, eyes closed,
enjoying the afterglow, the deep warm ache between my legs.

The only towel I could find was rough and scratchy but it got the job
done. I didn't even bother wrapping it around me for the short journey
back to the bedroom. It really was a lot pleasanter being naked in
Francesca's body. I paused for a moment at the top of the stairs,
enjoying the slight breeze from the open landing window, and that's when
I realised Rob was standing at the bottom of the same stairs, staring up
at me with his mouth open.

Except it wasn't Rob, of course, because this was a big dude, well over
six foot, wearing a rugby top and jeans, which meant it was Banshari.