Body Swap

[JohnAubrey]

Definitely more to come, but not sure when that will be yet.

I'm torn between continuing to follow Louise and Rachel or finding out what's been happening to Michael, so I've got two half-finished chapters on the go at the moment.

I'll just have to see which draft get finished first!

[JohnAubrey]

Chapter 2.3



Louise walked into the gym, the look-at-me swagger instinctively adopted by her new physique belying her inner state of nervous turmoil. The weird reailty that she was trapped in her brother’s body had been temporarily forgotten, and even the recent expansion of her sexual horizons was far from her mind. All she could think about was the contents of the plastic bag which she had just hastily, guiltily, stuffed into a locker.

The bag had been full of tablets and phials and bottles and needles, and she had stared at them in blank incomprehension until realisation had dawned.

Drugs! Lots of drugs! Michael was taking drugs!

Or to be more precise, from what she had been able to infer from the dealer’s gnomic mutterings, Michael had been planning to start taking drugs to grow even bigger. But given the current situation, she told herself, that was absolutely out of the question for as long as she was in control of Michael’s body.

She caught sight of herself in a mirror as she walked past. It wasn’t like Michael needed any more muscle anyway, she thought. Where on earth would it even go? Every movement she made caused something to bulge or ripple, some muscle or other jostling its neighbours for room. The shorts she had quickly changed into - to avoid her sticky, stained underwear and joggers drawing attention - were borderline indecent because of all that brawn, stretched to capacity by her oaken thighs, not to mention her third leg.

A group of women leaving a spin class had all simultaneously stopped in their tracks when they had seen her making her way across the foyer wearing those shorts; several of them had needed a sit down to recover; two of them would later drag their husbands into bed as soon as they got home; and one would spend considerably longer in the changing room shower afterwards than was required to simply get clean.

Ordinarily Louise would have gone out of her way to avoid attracting attention, but her mind was on other things right now, because she, who always read the possible list of side effects whenever she took a Lemsip, was panicking. What was she going to do? What if someone had seen her with the drugs? What if they checked her locker? Unless the mystery man was an eccentric travelling pharmacist, there were a lot of presumably illegal substancess in that bag - were there enough for her to be charged with possession with intent to supply?

She hesitated at the threshold of the free weights area. Maybe she should just leave immediately? Run away, discreetly drop the key to the locker down a drain a few streets away and just never come back? That way there would be nothing to link her to the drugs. After all, what was she even doing here, in this gym, humouring this perfect, pouty little princess whom she hated? She didn’t want to waste her time ‘pumping iron (and even as she thought those words she mentally inserted inverted commas around them)’. She certainly didn’t want to help Rachel. In fact, why should she even give Rachel the courtesy of letting her know she was leaving? Why not just do as she had been told and ‘ditch the bitch’? Why keep up this ridiculous charade any longer?

Louise made up her mind. She turned to leave. And then she saw Rachel, standing in the corner of the gym. Standing, and talking to a man. Louise stopped and stared. She recognised the man from the gym car park, where he had been climbing out of an expensive-looking red sports car at the same time as she and Rachel had arrived. He was earnestly mansplaining and talking with a decidedly boastful air, gesturing at the rack of dumbbells next to him.

As Rachel listened to his monologue she was coyly twirling her pigtails around with her fingers, the crooks of her arms squeezing her breasts together, making her abundant cleavage even more pronounced. As Louise watched, Rachel tilted her head to one side and giggled at something the man said.

Even before today, Louise, romantically inexpert as she had been, would have recognised this as blatantly flirtatious behaviour.

Louise realised her fists were clenched and her teeth were gritted. All thoughts of leaving the gym forgotten now, she started to stalk towards Rachel and the mystery man. He was much older than her, clearly middle-aged, with salt-and-pepper hair, but handsome and in good shape. He picked up a couple of dumbbells and started to curl them; after a couple of repetitions he paused and seemed to be encouraging Rachel to feel his arm. Rachel lifted her hand.

“Hey, babe,” Louise blurted out, “been looking for you.”

Rachel turned and Louise grabbed her arse with both hands, squeezed it harder than was strictly necessary, and lifted a squealing Rachel off her feet, pulling her in for a long, sloppy kiss.

“There you are, baby,” Louise squeaked breathlessly once the snog had run its course, her face a picture of concerned innocence. “You were gone so long the nice man was helping me because I didn’t know how much weight I should be using.”

“Oh yeah?” said Louise, gruffly, depositing Rachel and turning to the man. “How much you lifting?”

Clearly embarrassed to have found himself in this situation, and doubtless feeling suddenly shrimpy next to the teenage hulk beside him, the man cleared his throat.

“Erm, 35 pounds.”

“He was just telling me that only big, strong men like him can lift weights that big,” said Rachel.

“Oh, well, that’s not really, no, I wouldn’t say that…” the man muttered, nervous now as he eyed Michael’s massive body.

“Only 35 pounds?” Louise sneered.

Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Louise reached for another set of dumbbells on the rack, twice the weight of the ones currently held by the man. She had no idea how much Michael usually curled, and wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to pick them up at all - but the important thing now was to humiliate this interloper.

No way was anyone else going to impress her girl with their muscles, not if she had anything to do with it.

The weights came up off the rack without too much problem.

“After you,” Louise said to the man, hoping to spur him into action so she could copy his technique.

Meekly, the man resumed his exercise, the dumbbells in his hands looking comically small compared to the ones Louise started to curl. The weights were by no means easy to lift, Louise discovered, but they weren’t impossible either. It was a tough challenge, but a satisfying one.

Intimidated, the man decided to save some face by doing as many quick curls as possible, his technique becoming sloppier. Louise didn’t bother to try to keep pace with him because she was maintaining a steady rhythm of her own, raising her bigger weights as quickly as he lifted his, but lowering them with more control, enjoying the spreading warmth that was starting to light up her arms.

Louise’s muscles may have just started to burn but, next to her, the man had overtaxed himself and had nothing left to give. Louise was fatigued too, but watching his failure spurred her on; she redoubled her efforts and started grunting loudly as she fought to squeeze out more strictly controlled reps.

Rachel suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, and Louise realised that she had been standing behind her, her petite frame invisible in the mirror, completely dwarfed by her own massive bulk. The sexy blonde was wide-eyed with wonder, and started to stroke Louise’s bulging biceps, positively purring with excitement as Louise grunted her way through more reps.

“Oh, yes, baby, yes; you’re an animal, baby. Growl for me like a big, scary beast.”

With her final rep, Louise had a moment of clarity: each of the dumbbells she was curling weighed as much as her regular scrawny little body did.

Michael was ridiculously strong, she thought. No, fuck that: she was ridiculously strong. Stronger than she had ever realised it was possible for a person to be. Twice as strong as the fully-grown man standing next to her, if not stronger. Strong enough to get the hottest girl in the gym so turned on that she was literally licking her lips as she caressed her muscles, unashamedly pressing her crotch against her thigh and rubbing her big, round tits across her side in an act of intimate physical contact more usually seen in a nightclub than a gym.

Louise dropped the weights on the floor, where they landed with such loud bangs that several people turned to look in their direction to find the source of the disturbance; they were presented with the sight of a shame-faced man slinking away from a pulchritudinous teenage couple playing a vigorous game of tonsil-hockey, the voluptuous vixen cradled in the chiselled Adonis’ powerful arms as if she weighed nothing at all.

Rachel finally broke off the kiss, panting heavily, her erect nipples clearly visible even through her reinforced sports bra.

“Oh my god, baby, that was so hot. Your muscles are so powerful and sexy! I want that too. Show me how to lift; show me how to get strong!”

Rachel ran her hand down Louise’s torso, slowly walking two fingers down the cut abdominals in Louise’s eight-pack like they were moving from stepping stone to stepping stone. Her hand lingered by Louise’s waistband, then slipped lower, deftly unzipping the fly of Louise’s shorts.

At that moment, Louise realised she couldn't refuse anything Rachel asked of her, but she was still curious to know more.

“Why?” she asked.

“What do you mean, baby?” murmured Rachel, starting to nibble on Louise’s earlobe.

“Why do you want to get stronger?”

“It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Well… I’m the hottest girl in school, right?”

Rachel’s fingers slipped into Louise’s shorts; Louise’s mouth had gone dry and she only managed to nod in agreement.

“I’ve been hotter than every other girl I know since, like, third form. But more and more girls are cheating and are going to the gym to make themselves stronger and sexier. I don’t like that, baby; it’s not fair.”

Rachel gently squeezed Louise’s shaft.
 
“Do you remember skinny little Aisling, my old neighbour? I saw her the other day. She’s been living in the gym for the last two years and you should see her now, baby; she’s got a squat booty and it’s so big and so round and so firm you'd forget she's got no tits.”

Rachel’s nimble fingers eased their way down to tickle Louise’s balls.

It’s the same with other basic girls, too; I bet even your pathetic sister would look better if she started to work out. Imagine if she became a buff gym girl! How embarrassing would that be, your scrawny little nerd of a sister looking hotter than your girlfriend!”

Rachel giggled, scornfully.

“I mean, can you imagine?”

Something snapped inside Louise.

“So you want to build some muscle, huh? Yeah, I can definitely help with that. Where do you want to start, babe?”

If Rachel noticed the icy edge that had crept into Louise’s tone, she gave no indication.

[crow004]

Hot chapter! But I'd also love to see how Michael's doing in his sister's body.

[JohnAubrey]

Hot chapter! But I'd also love to see how Michael's doing in his sister's body.

Thanks! That's coming next. But first: a bit more action from the gym...



Chapter 2.4

“That,” Rachel said, decisively. “I want to try that.”

She was pointing at the bench press. Louise carried her over and lowered her onto the bench.

“How much weight do you think I should start with?” Rachel asked, excitedly.

Louise’s mind raced as she tried to bring to mind some relevant calculations from amongst Michael’s phone notes.

“The bar’s heavy, babe; you should try just that first and see how you do.”

“Will you - what do they call it again? - spot me like I’m lifting a big weight for real?” Rachel asked, cutely.

“Sure.”

Rachel lay down on the bench and got comfortable as Louise surreptitiously looked around, checking out how other people were assisting their gym partners. Taking her cue from them, she stood at the end of the bench, wrapped her hands around the bar and lifted it from the stand, ready to let Rachel take the weight.

Then she looked up and saw the crazy muscle babe heading in their direction. She gulped. Unheeded, Rachel reached up and gripped the bar.

The woman was still wearing only her lifeguard swimming costume - apparently the fact she worked there meant no one had told her that she didn’t meet the dress code. Or perhaps her colleagues were too scared of her to point out this violation lest she violate them.

She stopped directly opposite Louise, but still several feet away, and busied herself loading extra weight plates onto a barbell sitting on the floor. With every movement the woman made, Louise could see muscles in her legs, her bum, her back, her shoulders and her arms twitching and popping.

Rachel noticed that Louise was getting hard.

“Ooh, is that for me, baby? You like it when I’m down here, don’t you? Or maybe… maybe you like watching me work out?”

Louise was totally preoccupied with staring at the woman, who had turned around, lowered herself to the floor and was now almost recumbent, sliding her legs under the bar until it rested above her hips, and pressing her shoulders back against a bench, adjusting her position until she seemed satisfied that she was comfortable.

Louise didn’t hear what Rachel said, and didn’t notice her wriggling up the bench until her head cleared the end, the better to get close to Louise’s crotch.

The woman looked straight at Louise now, maintaining an unblinking eye contact, and then slowly spread her legs in a manner that was inviting but also very definitely dangerous, like she was setting a deadly trap and already relishing the thought that it would be sprung before too long. And then she thrust her hips upwards, easily raising the bar even though it was loaded with so much weight Louise expected it to bow under the pressure.

Louise’s erection grew so hard so fast that it jumped out of her unzipped shorts like an alien chestburster from a rib cage and forced itself straight into Rachel’s open mouth. Anyone less gifted at giving head would have gagged and choked but Rachel instinctively deepthroated the unexpected item in the tea-bagging area, closed her eyes and started sucking.

After all, to coin a phrase, one should never look at a gift of horse-cock in the mouth.

The woman’s display of strength and Rachel’s inhalation of her erection presented Louise with a combination of visual and sensory stimuli that made her forget all about supporting the bar for Rachel; she let go to grab hold of the spotter stands, trying to brace her body in an attempt to maintain control of her arousal. Rachel’s arms wavered as she struggled to bear the unexpected weight by herself, and then collapsed onto her chest.

Louise was oblivious to the fact that Rachel was now pinned under the bar, mesmerised by watching the rippling muscles in the same thighs that had strangled her not half an hour ago, and by the way the woman was aggressively thrusting her pussy in Louise’s direction, again and again and again.

Louise started to thrust her own hips in time with the woman…

Glorp.

And even though they were separated by an expanse of gym floor and indeed by Rachel herself…

Glorp.

So electric was the frisson between them that, to Louise, it felt like they had an actual physical connection…

Glorp.

Like they were actually fucking, just the two of them alone in the gym…

Glorp.

Everyone else had ceased to exist…

Glorp.

And Louise didn’t notice Rachel’s legs kicking wildly, or her fingers clawing at the bar…

Glorp.

And Louise was oblivious of Rachel’s muffled attempts to cry for help.

Glorp.

Louise closed her eyes as she recognised the now-familiar tingling feeling that made it clear that her engorged penis was seconds from ejaculating, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Glorp-glurg-glurg-glurg-gleurgh.

Louise lost herself in the sensation of the orgasm, and when she opened her eyes she found that the woman was straddling both the bench and Rachel’s body, and standing right in front of her. She pointed down.

Gleuuuuuurh.

A torrent of semen and drool was running from Rachel’s mouth, down her face and onto the floor.

Gleuuuuuurgh.

The woman beckoned Louise closer with a forefinger and Louise leaned towards her until they were almost nose to nose.

Gleuuuuuuuuurgh.

“I just turned you on so much without even touching you that you nearly choked your little bitch girlfriend to death with your monster-cock. Face it: you’re too much man for her to handle. Me, on the other hand…”

With a wink at Louise, she reached down and grabbed the bar from Rachel’s spasming chest, the blonde’s generous breasts threatening to jiggle free from her sports bra, and proceeded to curl the weight a dozen times before reracking it.

Louise stared down at an obviously distressed Rachel with a sudden feeling of horror, quickly pulled herself out of Rachel’s mouth and was relieved to hear her coughing and spluttering. At least she was still alive.

She glanced up to find the woman was already walking away, cool, calm and casual, her strength and confidence writ large in the way her body prowled across the gym. But then she stopped and looked back over her shoulder, flexed an impressive bicep and blew Louise a kiss over the top of the muscle peak.

Rachel was still wheezing and drooling. Louise stared back down at her and opened her mouth to ask her if she was okay - but instead she was shocked to hear herself saying:

“If you want to get stronger, you need to push yourself harder. That was pathetic. Let’s try that again.”

[JohnAubrey]

Chapter 3.1

Michael woke up feeling debilitated, as indolent as a depressed sloth. Something seemed to have sapped him of his strength, as if he were suffering from the flu, but he had no fever, no aches or pains, just a terrible weakness. He feebly raised an arm and was alarmed to see how spindly it looked. Unable to jump out of bed to investigate what was going on, he managed instead to roll over languidly and stare into the mirror.

It didn’t take Michael long to realise that he was trapped in Laura’s body, or much longer than that to come to terms with this peculiar state of affairs. He had watched enough kinky porn over the years, and had indulged in sufficient perverted fantasies as a result, that waking up in his sister’s body didn’t disturb him - it just disappointed him. This dream was way too realistic; normally in his incest fantasies his mother and sister were magically replaced with lingerie models.

Well, this was a bummer. Why couldn’t Louise be super-hot, like Rachel? How was he meant to enjoy playing with his sister’s tits when Louise was as flat as a pancake?

He remembered his cruel nickname for his sister, ‘Two Backs’, and guffawed. Except, he didn’t. Instead, he giggled; and it wasn’t a controlled, calculated sexy giggle, not like Rachel’s, whose laugh announced to the world that she was an air-headed bimbo even while its harmonics did something to the male brain that made it start thinking of sex; no - this laugh sounded shrill and goofy.

God! Even the sound of Rachel was a turn-off!

Still woozy, unable to move and unwilling to play along with his imagination’s lacklustre fantasy, Michael began to think instead about Rachel’s big, perfect tits, and about how they bounced and jiggled at her slightest movement; about how they felt as he reached round to grab them as he fucked her from behind, so soft, yet so firm; about their weight as they smothered his cock, slick with spit and pre-cum, as she gave him a tit-wank; about how Rachel would sometimes play with her own nipples, lost in a world of ecstasy, as she deep-throated him.

Fuck! Those blowjobs! Rachel on her knees looking up at him like he was her lord and master, her eyes so big and beautiful that it was like getting a beej from a Disney princess. It was no less than a big, muscular alpha male like him deserved. A perfect little slut to worship him and service him whenever he so desired.

Michael may have been too exhausted to move, but he wasn’t too tired to start feeling horny. Instinctively he reached down to wrap a hand around the thickening girth of his monster and gave a start as he remembered that he was effectively as well-endowed as a Ken doll now.

He was also taken aback to find that Louise's crotch was totally hairless. He knew this was a dream, but, after all, a bikini wax didn’t really seem her style. Ha! Even a bikini wasn’t Louise’s style; it was impossible to imagine his sister wearing anything sexy or revealing - and what did she even have to reveal anyway? A pair of mosquito bites and a boney little arse. He came to the conclusion that Louise just hadn’t started to grow any pubic hair yet.

Christ, what a loser! Eighteen years old and she hadn’t even grown enough pubes that she needed to wax them off!

And then, from outside the door, came his mother’s voice.

“Louise, aren’t you up yet? Come on, we need to leave soon! Hurry up and get dressed!

So much for the hope that his mum might parade in wearing a PVC catsuit and brandishing a whip, and save him from this boring dream. It was all way, way too realistic. Oh well, enough of this shit. Maybe if he played along it would hurry up and end sooner and he could wake up and fuck a real-life mega-babe.

Drowsily, he rolled out of bed and started groping for some clothes.

[taoschild]

A unique story for sure. I'm enjoying the description and the humor -- not sure where the plot is going but I'm enjoying the ride nonetheless! 

[JohnAubrey]

Chapter 3.2


Michael woke up. He had a throbbing headache and felt terrible, but as he blinked and yawned, he felt relief: relief that he wasn’t having that crappy dream any more. Just the memory of being stuck in his sister’s scrawny little body made him feel sick. How could she stand being so pathetic?

A wave of nausea made his stomach lurch. Michael suppressed a burp.

Fuck, the thought of being that weak made him literally feel sick. He needed to sit up.

Still groggy, Michael struggled to raise himself off the table, which he now realised was vibrating. In fact, his head wasn’t throbbing: the table was. So was his chair. So was everything. What the fuck was going on? He began to blink more rapidly, blurred images moving in and out of focus, and eventually he made out the figure of his mother sitting at the far end of the table, leaning across to talk to a woman a few seats away.

Michael stared blankly at his mother, trying to work out why she was there - and where, come to think of it, was there? The location felt familiar, but he couldn’t yet place it. Puzzled and still feeling unwell, he watched his mother talking - from where he sat he could just make out his mother’s half of the conversation over the weird throbbing noise...

“It will be the largest villa excavated in France for decades… Oh yes, we’ve already found an incredible mosaic… I’m very excited to be leading the project… It’s hard to say - we have enough funding for several months… Yes, that’s my daughter… Yes, she’s coming with me for the duration of the project… No, she’ll be homeschooling once we’re out there… She’s incredibly clever and, between you and me, she doesn’t enjoy school very much - I think she’s so far ahead of the other girls academically that she finds it hard to make friends… I think she’ll do fine on her own, preparing for her exams… Oh no, no, she’s not sitting her GCSEs; she’ll be taking her A Levels… Yes, she does look very young for her age, but she’s actually eighteen… I know, she’s so small, that always surprises people when they find out…  Emotionally, she is very mature for her age; I know I can trust her when I'm working away on-site - she won’t be out getting into any trouble - not that there’s really anywhere to go near the site… No, she has a brother, but he lives with his father; I can’t imagine him enjoying studying in seclusion… That’s right, he’s the polar opposite of his sister… He’s obsessed with going to the gym and with chasing girls… Yes, he was staying with us recently and I asked him the exact same thing but I couldn’t persuade him to take his sister along to the gym with him even once - I do wish she would do some form of exercise, though; she just sits indoors with her books all day and she’s so frail for a girl her age…”

Michael started to get worried. This all seemed wrong. You couldn’t wake up from a dream and find yourself in another dream, could you? Probably not unless you were in a Christopher Nolan film, not that he ever understood those bullshit movies. And he was pretty sure he wasn’t in a Christopher Nolan film: nothing pretentious was happening and Michael Caine wasn’t anywhere to be seen. So what the fuck was going on?

Michael managed to turn his head to look in the other direction and immediately forgot his concerns. This was more like it! At a table a few feet away, a gaggle of girls his age caught his eye. They looked like part of an extended family group, with parents and some younger siblings sitting at a different table.

What better way to shake off this sick feeling and focus the mind than by getting his flirt on? He would give the girls some free tickets to the gun show and get them frothing in their knickers. He felt better just thinking about it!

Michael ran a professional eye over his options. The nearest girl was out: too much of a fatty, and he didn’t feel like harpooning a whale. The girl sitting next to her was a goth and looked too filthy to cradle. His attention focussed on a blonde girl sitting on the far left of the table whose breasts were doing some incredible work contouring her jumper. He wouldn’t kick her out of bed, not until he’d worked up a sweat, anyway. Well, it was her lucky day - once she’d seen what he had to offer she would’t be able to resist sneaking off to a quiet corner somewhere for a quick fuck. And the brunette sitting next to her wasn’t too bad looking, either - maybe he’d thrown her a bone by throwing her down and boning her into the bargain. So many horny little sluts and so little time. What was a muscle-stud to do?

Michael stood up, his movement catching the eye of the very blonde he’d been planning on pleasuring. She smiled politely at him. He returned her gaze, and teased his sleeves up his arms to reveal more of his bulging biceps. Her look turned to one of puzzlement and then amusement. She looked away and seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh. What was going on? He looked down and nearly cried out in anguish as he saw only twiggy little arms and a weedy torso.

This couldn’t be happening. Where were all his hunky, big, bulging muscles?

The ground seemed to lurch beneath him and Michael staggered forwards, grabbing the back of a chair for support. The blonde had muttered something to the other girls and they had all turned to look at him in time to see him topple, but Michael didn’t notice that - he was looking beyond them, and beyond their table, to where there was a small window, through which he could see only an expanse of sea.

It wasn’t a window: it was a porthole. He was on a boat!

Michael struggled to stand up straight but the rocking motion was too much for his skinny legs and he stumbled forwards, clutching at the table where the four girls stared at him with looks of amusement, alarm, scorn and disgust respectively. No girl had looked at him like that before, ever.

Despite how confused he was, and how awful he felt, Michael’s instincts kicked in.

“Hey girls, how you do-"

Michael stopped abruptly as he caught sight of his reflection in the polished metal surface of the table and saw his sister looking back at him. His heart sank. He was still stuck in his sister's body. His head was spinning, but he tried to get a grip of himself: everything would be alright if he could just bend the blonde over in a disabled toilet and fill her with cock. Hell, he'd even settle for pulling the fatty right now.

"How you do-eurgh. Eurgh. Bleeeeurgh…”

Michael vomited down his front as he collapsed to the floor.

[Sounder9-]

Definitely an interesting perspective and story!

[jhunter]

Very interesting take. Good flow and detail. Hope to see more.

[taoschild]

Solid writing and a novel storyline which could go in multiple directions.  Thanks for sharing

[JohnAubrey]

Chapter 3.3

Michael stared at himself in the rear-view mirror of the car, knocked out of position during his tantrum, and tried to decide what was worse…

Was it the fact that himself was in fact herself? Like, for real. Really for real. This was not a fantasy or a dream or - more accurately - a nightmare. Perhaps it was a curse? Stuck in a girl’s body and he didn’t even have any tits to play with. It must be a curse!

Or was it the fact that herself was his flat-chested sister, objectively the least sexy girl in the entire world? Even if they weren’t related he would have described Louise as a cold shower personified, more of a turn-off than Maggie Thatcher naked on a cold day. Every hole’s a goal, as the saying goes, but some holes were definitely own-goals, bad enough to be immortalised in an end-of-season blooper reel, and his sister was one of them.

His sister was also an ugly crier, because of course she was; everything about her was repulsive and weak. And so now his eyes were puffy, his face was red and crumpled like a baby’s, snot streamed from his nostrils, and he couldn’t make it stop. Why couldn’t he make it stop? It had been bad enough that he had thrown up over himself in front of those girls, but it was his reaction to his chunder waistcoat that had really shocked him: his lip had started wobbling, tears had run down his cheeks and he had stood there and wailed inconsolably until his mum had taken him by the hand and lead him to the toilets to clean him up.

What was wrong with him? He blew his nose on the T-shirt he had been given. Even that was a cruel joke, a mockery of what he had once been: the mother of one of the girls had followed them to the toilets and offered them a clean T-shirt, which they had kept to hand because they were worried their daughter might suffer from sea-sickness. He had briefly cheered up at the thought of wearing a shirt the busty blonde’s tits had once touched, but then he had realised he was being offered a top belonging to her 11-year-old sister.

It was a little short, but it had fitted him.

He had been the biggest, buffest dude in his school and now he was reduced to the size of an 11-year-old girl and to wearing a pink, sparkly My Little Pony T-shirt. Was it any wonder he had finally broken down and had a temper tantrum as they had approached the port?

Actually, perhaps the worst thing of all was how easily his mum had been able to wrestle him down to the ship’s lower decks and back into the car. It should be him picking up women, not the other way around! But this body was too puny to put up much of a fight.

He remembered all his beautiful, bulging muscles and started to cry again. He had been so big and so strong, and he had only been going to get bigger and stronger with the chemical assistance he had ordered. Eventually he’d have become so studly that Rachel, as babesome as she was, would have had to become his side hoe at best after he ditched her for a famous swimwear model - although he would have definitely kept her on speed dial as a good option for a booty call when he fancied a threesome. She was the throat GOAT, after all.

As his mum started the engine, she adjusted the rear-view mirror and he lost sight of himself. He knew they were about to embark on a 6-hour drive to her excavation site, because she had told him so in no uncertain terms once she had pushed him back into the car and told him to stop pleading to be allowed to return home.

He was trapped, trapped in his sister’s body, trapped in a little girl’s clothes, trapped in this car, trapped in a foreign country with no escape possible and with no prospect of returning to his beefcake bod and banging his boner-donor girlfriend.

Yeah, that was definitely the worst thing of all: he was trapped.

Michael slumped in his seat and sniffled, too depressed to carry on begging to go home.

He was trapped.

[jhunter]

Not bad for a mini. Hope for a good conclusion.