Switched Ch. 02

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This is a work of erotic fiction. All characters engaged in sexual activity are at least eighteen years old.

Many thanks to icedragonmo3 for editing and expert advice. Any mistakes herein are because the author didn’t listen.

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Chapter 2



Jessica was a car girl, I couldn’t believe it. Was she a lesbian? Something was pinging my gaydar, but when I measured the poor thing’s bust size earlier, I’d had to chase her across the bedroom and corner her against a desk. The weird thing was that, as skittish as she was in those situations, the rest of the time she looked so fierce! Like she’d kick your ass if she had to. I wasn’t into girls, but she seemed different, somehow. She made me want to know more about her.

Once we got into the mall, she started cutting suspicious eyes at people walking by. She gradually became more outraged and before I could ask about it, she seethed, “Another one! What the fuck is this?” She glared at an old man in a cardigan and he veered away in alarm. “Is there a creep convention in town or something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’m being watched,” she said. “I noticed this person looking at me a minute ago, but he glanced away. But then it happened again! Several times now! It’s like… Why are you laughing?”

I led her to the ladies’ and stood her in front of the long mirror. We were alone but for a little girl taking a dump in the last stall.

“What do you see?” I asked.

“Two incredibly hot young women?”

“Details. You.”

She peered at herself, then shook her head. “My pants are tight.”

“That’s it?” She couldn’t be serious.

“Yeah? No. What?”

“This isn’t going to be pleasant, but it needs to be said.” I ticked them off on my fingers: “You have long hair that you ain’t brushed. Your jeans look like they’re painted on. You have big ole boobies and no bra, and you got no makeup on. Your punk rock shirt looks like it was made to scare children. And you can’t see it now, but you’re walking around like you about to beat down the bitch who stole your man.”

“I am?”

“You are simmering, Honey.”

She didn’t seem offended by any of this and she agreed about the simmering with no complaints. Refreshingly humble, this girl.

I went on. “You don’t have to tell me why. But it’s real obvious you’re mad as hell. And there’s one more thing: People are gonna look at you. They’re gonna stare, sometimes. It can get creepy, but it’s mostly people just being people and it don’t hurt nobody.”

I smiled fondly. “Sometimes it’s kind of nice.” Jessica laughed at my impromptu strut and the flirty smile I threw over my shoulder.

I got serious again. “But mostly it’s just one more kinda crappy thing to get used to. Don’t let it make you choose how you dress, though. That’s when the bastards win.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her the last bit, about how the motion of her walking made her chest jiggle. We’d get her a bra soon.

She was a tomboy, that one. Reminded me of myself, before my tits came in. Didn’t want anything to do with skirts or lace. She wasn’t thrilled about showing skin, either.

I was thinking this whole trip would be boring jeans and hoodies, so I decided to mess with her. I took her to a lingerie store.

It was everything I hoped it would be. She wasn’t a minute inside when she accidentally knocked over a clothing rack. She tried to look everywhere and nowhere, and not be noticed doing it. It was the most painfully, visibly awkward thing I’d ever seen. I took her into a corner where we couldn’t be overheard and there wasn’t so much to look at, and she recovered.

While we were talking about bras, she zoned out. I followed her stare to a mannequin dressed in a sheer lace body stocking. It had these sexy cutouts around the hips that gave it the outline of garters and stockings, real hot. She’d look at it intensely, then look down at herself, then stare at it again. It was like she was waking up. Her hair swished to and fro as she glanced around, as if seeing everything in the store for the first time.

Pinkness crept up her neck. Her eyes started to water ’cause she wasn’t blinking them. Her nipples looked ready to tear holes in her shirt.

There was the clerk, just in time. I accepted the bra from her and steered my charge into a dressing room. We were alone for the moment and she had no more sexy undies to distract her.

“You okay?” I checked.

She nodded, finally blinking.

“Your first time in one of these stores?” I asked, and again she nodded. “Can’t decide if you’re excited or disgusted?”

She looked at me, surprised, and I put a hand on her shoulder. “The disgust fades,” I said with a knowing look, “but the excitement doesn’t.”

Unexpectedly this made her more nervous. I tried to sound bracing and said, “But for today we’re just trying on this bra.” I held it up.

She grasped the hem of her shirt and looked at me questioningly.

“If you want me here, kağıthane escort that’s okay. If not, that’s fine, but you’ll have to come out so I can see how it fits.”

“Stay,” she whispered, and took off her shirt.

Whoa, she was actually trembling. “I never wore one of these before,” she confessed. She had a pretty good idea how it went on, but I had to explain how to settle her breasts in the cups. I tried to help but she was scared of that for some reason and did it herself.

It was too tight. I playfully booped her on her squashed cleavage and went for another, which fit much better.

“It’s good,” I said at last. “You look great. Keep it on, right?”

Jessica nodded, staring at her reflection in the mirror, and I wasn’t sure if she was worried, excited, or utterly furious. She didn’t know how to pose, which was strange for a girl who looked so much like a model. She stood there almost numbly in her underwear and stared.

It was starting to get weird. I handed her t-shirt over. Her fingers closed on it reflexively, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of her reflection.

“Want to get the matching panties?” I offered, and she jumped a little as if she’d forgotten I was there. The girl nodded, blushing. If she was this wound up about a simple bra and panty set, no wonder that body stocking had thrown her for a loop. It was sexy as hell!

She decided to wear them out of the store, so I got the undies and handed them over the door. They were way more girly than the kind she preferred, but we already had plenty of those boring-ass drawers. After hearing the sounds of cloth on skin for a moment, it became deathly quiet in there.

I waited. Still quiet. I got up and tapped on the door. “You okay?”

There was no answer, so I cracked it open.

She was standing there in the bra and panties, turning slowly back and forth, staring again at what she saw there, absolutely mesmerized. The way she was gazing at herself reminded me of the first boy who’d talked me out of my clothes. He’d given me the same look.

“I can’t believe this is me,” she said quietly.

“It’s you.”

She went back to staring, so I uttered a quick “C’mon,” and smacked her ass. “We’re burning daylight.”


Scratch the Itch


When Tawney and I were done shopping, I treated her to a nice dinner where we got to know each other a little better. I’m sure she found me a great listener, as I kept asking about her to keep from having to talk about myself.

Her father owned a garage, and she and her older brothers worked the family business. They were already married and starting families, whereas she’d graduated the year before and was saving up for her next move.

She had a guy, Vance, but it wasn’t serious. He was more than a friend but definitely not a boyfriend, just someone fun to hang out with. “Sometimes you just gotta scratch the itch, you know what I mean?” she’d quipped. I was taken aback by her candor. Maybe that was how women really talked to one another, but maybe that was just Tawney. She considered sex to be her right as a responsible adult, and she intended to enjoy it.

She was bold and straightforward, and like any country girl, she loved to tease and joke around. She wasn’t as conformist as a lot of country folk I’d known, and I liked that about her.

Her accent was soft but noticeable, and she considered Country Rock to be a legitimate genre of music. My attempt to rectify that notion led to our first real disagreement, resolved amicably by each of us agreeing that the other person was an idiot and there was just nothing to be done.

We got back to her place and put away the clothes, mostly in the suitcase I’d purchased, but Tawney loaned me space on the clothing rack that made up one wall of my sleeping cubby. After putting away the food, we did what came naturally: We talked about the car she was fixing up.

We went over all the work she’d done to it in detail, from locating the body to stripping and sanding, body work, suspension and drivetrain, everything. She knew the price and history of every part, and thankfully wasn’t shy about sharing. She had an eye for deals, that one. And it was another example of her free thinking nature. Any other country girl would have restored a pickup truck or muscle car.

We talked about her future plans for the car. It was mostly done, painted even, but she’d had to partially disassemble it to diagnose problems with the electrical system and the heater core, and while she was at it, she decided to upgrade the suspension.

It was late, so we hugged, another thing I found unusual, and went to bed. I barely managed to get behind something before Tawney took any clothes off. Before the day’s outing, she’d changed in front of me, and I realized to my horror and titillation that the woman intended to go about whatever nudity the day required whether I was there or not.

It felt so freeing to strip down and step into the shower in full view of Tawney, but now that elit escort istanbul I was there, I had a problem.

I was horny.

I had never been this close to a woman this hot before, and it was getting to me. I couldn’t get away from her; I was her.

As the day went on, I’d gotten further into the Jessica character. I was beginning to believe I’d been homeschooled, if only because it made sense where my real circumstances did not. A young woman making a transition from a sheltered life to the wider world? There was social protocol for that; it made sense and you knew what to do. Adjusting to having your gender suddenly switched? I was in unexplored territory, and it sucked, and everyone was going to laugh at me.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the lingerie, the nudity, the way all the guys were looking at me. I was so far into character that I didn’t immediately want to gouge their eyes out, and that thought made a wave of shame pass through me that led to tingles in places I dared not think about. The wave even reverberated: The idea of getting turned on by that shame was itself shameful, leading to more pleasure and so forth in ever-diminishing ripples.

Why couldn’t I have been a less sexy woman? I actually enjoyed picking out those clothes. That wasn’t something written into female DNA, this body was just so fucking sexy I…

Oh my Christ.

I wanted to show it off. I wanted to decorate it, see how fetching I could make myself.

So yeah, I was simmering with anger. This wasn’t supposed to be fucking happening! And I was pretty sure I knew what that slippery feeling between my legs meant. I had an incredible pair of tits I could look at any time I wanted, and right now, hot water was cascading over them…

I had to get a grip on myself. Anger and horniness were starting to inspire each other to greater efforts.

Well, I was in a shower, where one takes the traditional remedy for overactive libido.

I went to slam my fist against the wall but checked it at the last moment. What could I do?

There was no other option. I turned the water to cold.



“Did I hear screaming?” I called, then gasped when a thought got me. “What are you doing in my shower?”

There was no answer.

I couldn’t help giggling, “It sounded like you did it right though!”

I threw my head back and cackled.

She grunted a few times more after that. The nerve of this chick!

Immediately the water shut off, and my guest stepped out shivering. As I watched her towel herself off with spasmodic haste, I couldn’t help but be impressed. She could be a model, easy. I’d do her and I wasn’t even into girls. We’d just be so sexy together.

She said, “I-I-I wasn’t-t-t-touching myself, promise.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, smiling.

Flustered, she went to bed. I turned out the lights and settled down.

A minute or two passed.



“It’s okay. Just try to be a little more sneaky about it.”

“I wasn’t!”




“I bring entertainment!” called a voice from below.

I snatched a hoodie off a rack and pulled it over my t-shirt so I wouldn’t have to put on a bra. Who knew those things were so damn uncomfortable?

I walked to the edge of the bedroom-platform and put my fists on my hips. “Five days,” I stated, “You drop me off with a stranger and then you’re gone without a word for five days.”

He was making his way toward the stairs, burdened by packages. “I had to. If I visited more, it would be suspicious.”

“And two giant armloads of bags isn’t?”

“I paid cash, wore a hat and glasses and left my phone at home, did it all in one go. Left trusted associates to cover for my absence and took an untraceable vehicle.”

Okay, that was impressive. “Fair enough. Come aboard.”

He climbed the stairs and set down the bags.

“It’s good to see you,” he said, and his arms were still at the bag-depositing angle, which is to say that they were spread wide, and they began to curve inward a bit, and it looked for all the world like he was about to hug me.

I stiff-armed him in the chest, bouncing me back more than him but keeping us apart. “Dude!” I admonished.


Now I felt bad. “Thanks for doing all this, buddy.”

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging. Now let’s see what we have.”

He detailed what he’d brought, including his go-bag, which was of course the high-end variety with the bullet-resistant, waterproof lining and all the built-in features. This wasn’t one of the go-bags people were buying at the big-box retailers and from the cottage industry that had sprung up to cover the growing demand, it had to be ordered special. The rest was mostly entertainment and snacks.

I rummaged. “You brought a camera?”

“Gimme that before you break it,” he said with a smile. It was a thing that he said often, and with good reason. When I had to get glasses in fourth grade, I must have fatih escort broken or lost a dozen pair in that first year.

“Holy shit,” I said, sudden realization making the camera in my hand start to tumble. I made a hasty grab for it but only pushed it farther away, rotating in air.

He caught it against his chest as well as he could but it bounced off. He pushed it away on his first grab, too, but a fast follow-up got his hands around it at the edge of his reach. “I see some things haven’t changed,” he deadpanned.

“I don’t need glasses,” I said.

“Oh. Neat. So you’re good?”

I almost punched him. As in, I tried to punch him and he blocked it. The reflexes on this guy!

I glared at him. “I am so not good it is rifuckulous. I am the freakin’ queen of… The king… Fuck!”

He reached out to comfort but didn’t touch me, both of which I was grateful for. My face did that hot plate thing that I now recognized as the onset of tears. My anger at them only made them stronger.

My mouth wouldn’t untwist itself enough for me to talk, so grabbed the blue box Tawney had gotten me and held it up.

He gazed at it in awe. “Tampax,” he whispered.

I threw the box at him. Then I glared and held up a finger indicating he should wait, then on impulse another indicating that he should get fucked, before ducking again into my cubby.

I came out with the panties he’d included in the first shipment and threw those at him, too. He caught them, the quick bastard. Then dropped them in alarm.

“Why, Bryan?” I could talk but it sounded like a damaged audio tape. I jabbed my finger at the pastel-colored pile at his feet. “Why the fuck man? You’re supposed to be my best friend!”

He raised his hands in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “I don’t under… I am sorry that I, uh…”

I began slashing my arm around for emphasis. “You don’t even get it. And if you don’t, who the fuck will? Everybody thinks I’m a woman, Bryan! A woman! And they want me to be one, they’re trying to make me be one.”

I pointed at the undies and glared at him, a dire judgement from on high. “And so did my best friend!”

The tears would come any second. My voice was already squeakier than usual, and I added, “You coulda got me tighty-whities!”

He hesitated, watching me cry.

His arms began to come up wide.

I scowled and he recoiled, arms dropping.

He handed me a tissue instead. I thanked him by habit, blotted my eyes, then flung the tissue down, cursing. “This is exactly what I am talking about!”

“But I’d do that for a guy,” he protested.

“I know, it’s frickin’ complicated, Bryan!” Fresh tears began to flow.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke, “Look, you’re my best friend, okay? I know who you are. You’re the guy who pantsed the quarterback of Ridgefield High. You’re the guy who invented an entire ninja language when we were ten years old.” He smiled faintly at the memory. “No one knows you better than me, Chase, and if you think I’m going to forget that because you’re running around the body of a swimsuit model, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

I still wanted to hit something, but not as badly as I had before.

He continued, “I know you know that, but I should have reminded you more. You are Chase McKenna inside, and that will never change. You read me?”

I nodded tearily, my hands still balled into fists.

“I figured you’d just enjoy the change of pace for a while. What can be done can be undone, yes?” He grinned as fiercely as ever I’d seen him, the face of a man ready for battle. He reached out and put his hand on the back of my head, then bent to my level and set the top of his forehead against mine in a gesture that was close but not too intimate. That was very clever of him; I was certainly impressed.

He promised, “We will find a way to turn you back.”

I nodded, sniffing. Should have kept that tissue. “Thank you.”

He released me and backed off. “So I humbly suggest that you treat this as a fascinating learning experience that few can ever duplicate, and maybe then you won’t be so miserable and scary.”

“I will fucking kill you!”

He flinched, but turned that into a what-did-I-tell-ya gesture. “We’ll get through this.”

I grabbed another tissue before he could offer one and cleaned myself up. “Thank you, my friend. You know you’re the only person besides Tawney who…” I started crying again. “You’re the only two people in my life now.”

Here he was again with those motherfucking arms! This time I punched him in the tit. It felt like hitting a dictionary; The guy was loaded with muscles.

He stepped back, pained, and put both of his hands atop the spot where I’d hit him. “I’m gonna get you a punching bag.”

I faked another punch to make him flinch.

He sighed. “Look, I’ve got to go. Can’t stay here too long, this is basic operational security. And it’s not because you keep hitting me. Ow! Stop it! Oh! Say ‘cheese’.” He retrieved the camera and snapped off a few photos of me.

“What the fuck, Bryan, I’m bawling over here and you want to play photo bug?”

We waited and got the tears dried enough to snap a decent picture. He promised to touch it up and I asked him what he was doing with it in the first damn place.

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