I smiled as I opened my car door, feeling the warm summer air as I got out of my car, locked it up, and started to walk to my apartment building.  It was a nice summer day, not too hot, sunny, with a nice breeze blowing. I might as well enjoy it, I thought, deciding to instead walk around my neighborhood rather than just go to my apartment.  Every other day was either going to be hot as hell, rainy as hell, or hot and rainy as hell.

                I shook my head as I walked, knowing full well that was the nature of this area of the country and nothing would change that, so I might as well not dwell on it.

                I walked down the sidewalk, nice houses on both sides of the street, feeling the breeze on my arms and legs.  I was dressed pretty normal for this time of year, cargo shorts, short socks, running shoes, and just a plain black t-shirt.

                Nearly an hour later, I decided to head back home, just as it was hitting around noon.  I was getting hungry, and there was this Chinese place I wanted to hit up. Maybe some sweet and sour chicken, or sesame chicken, I pondered.  My one friend Katie keeps telling me that stuff will kill me one day, and she’s probably right.  But, that day is a long ways off.  I’m in good shape, lean with a good amount of muscle, and that comes even with having a diet that any nutritionist would be horrified at.  I’ve got time.

                As I get close to my apartment, I know there’s this large white house coming up and I do my best to not be noticed as I check to see if she is there.  Now, I don’t know her name, only that she lives there with her husband and two (three?) kids, and when she’s out and about, it’s worth the look.  Maybe five-six, nice legs, even better tits, brunette, she’s the highlight of my walks around here.  Plus, she always seems to be in shorts, skirts and dresses, and not ones that a prude would approve of.  I mean, they weren’t slutty, by no means, but you did get a good enough view of her thighs, and she had very nice thighs.  Plus, she was always in sandals, especially wedge ones.

                Okay, maybe I’m perving a bit here, but I’m single at the moment and it’s not like I’m in the bushes with the camera, I just walk by once a week or so, and I would use this route even if she wasn’t on it. This is just a bonus.

                As I come upon her house, I see her outside by her car in this light summer dress colored blue and black, a pair of heeled sandals on her pretty feet.  She’s turned away, and I get a good look at her from behind, taking in that ass and those long and slender legs.

                I did most of this with barely turning my head, and, stifling a grin, I turned my head completely straight and I kept walking. As I’m past her property, I see this large van drive up and park in front of her place, and I pay it no attention. Vans like that are so common around here you don’t even notice them, especially when, from the looks of the logo, it was for a plumber.  I hear the door to the van open, and I turn to see if I’m right, more out of curiosity than anything else.  He certainly looked like he could be, though I noticed the uniform was the nicest I’ve ever seen for one.  Eh, probably new, I thought as he closed the driver’s side door.

                I then noticed something interesting.  Rather than him go to her, she went to him.  I saw her walk up to him and start to talk, then I heard the back of the van door open.  I shrugged as I walked on.  A moment later, I heard it close, and I turned back, why, I don’t really know, probably just to get a last look of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.  She could not have gotten back in the house that quickly.  Something was up, I realized.

                Now, I’m no coward, but I also am not an idiot. Playing hero here won’t end well, so I do the sensible thing and try to call the police.  As I’m getting my phone out, I can hear a vehicle pull up behind me, which I ignored.  Just as I was about to send the call, I hear the back door of a van open behind me, and I turn to see a van exactly like the one that the woman was likely in, and I see a man come around from the driver’s side with a taser.  I was on the ground a few seconds later, never able to complete the call.  I was then grabbed by the first man while a second, well, I felt a pinch in my neck and I started to feel faint.  I knew I was being drugged, and both manhandled me toward the back of the van. The last thing I saw was the door start to open, but I was too groggy to really see or even understand what was inside even if I had a good view of it, which I didn’t.

                You know those dreams you have that you swear are real, only to wake up and realize, often to your relief, that it was just a dream?  When I woke up, I hoped that was what was happening to me.

                I found myself awake, though unable to move, not even open my eyes.  I could feel I was in a chair, sitting up.  I could also feel that was the only normal thing going on here.  I knew that I wasn’t wearing my original clothes.  That was obvious instantly.  My legs were together, and I could feel the skin, the hairless skin where my thighs met.  I could feel I was wearing sandals, and the fabric of my clothes was not what you would feel if you were in a cotton t-shirt and normal cargo shorts.

                Those, though, were the most normal sensations I was feeling.  I realized that I was wearing something around my chest, which was now much heavier. As for my boxers, I could plainly tell I wasn’t wearing those anymore and what I was wearing was flat against my crotch.  That alarmed me most of all.  Not only could I not feel my dick or my testicles, the fact that my underwear was flat against it told me that they couldn’t even exist there at all now.

                All this time, I was struggling to move something, anything, and finally, just as I was about to reach full panic, I could open my eyes.

                It was like a dam broke, just that one movement. Rapidly, movement returned and I looked down.

                It was the dress that the woman was wearing, I saw as I went to stand.  I was still a bit wobbly and I fell back into the chair.  I kept looking myself over, my arms finally able to move well enough to feel myself.  My hands felt at the hemline of the dress, feeling hairless thighs and knees with hands that I saw were just as feminine.  I felt my face, and, to my shock, I could feel the light stubble on my face.  I felt my hair, which felt short and well-kept (hers was much longer) and I could even feel the small scar right behind my right ear.  I felt down my neck, realizing there was something around it, bandages, it felt like.  Oh no, oh god, why were there bandages?  Why did my head feel like mine, but everything below it look just like the woman I had seen earlier?

                Finally, I was able to stand and look around.  I saw a mirror in the corner of the room and I walked over to it.

                It confirmed what had desperately hoped was not true.  My head was my own, but below that was the body of the woman.

                I then wondered, what happened to her?  Oh god, is she okay?  What did they do to her?

                At that moment, I heard the door open and my concerns for her safety were instantly answered.  In walked, on tall, lean, hairy legs, dressed in my clothes, with a somewhat apologetic smile on her face was the woman.

                “You must have questions.”  She said.  “I can answer them.”

                At that moment, any thoughts that she was a victim were long gone.  She obviously was in on it.

                “God, what the actual fuck?!”  I exclaimed.  “What did, who did, I mean, how?”

                “Do you need a moment?”  She asked, and I noticed actual concern in her voice.

                “No!”  I stammered out.  “Just tell me what happened!  Please!”

                “Okay.”  She said. She pulled a wooden chair up to near the recliner I woke up in and motioned for me to sit down.  I did, still feeling a little weak.

                “John, right?”  She started.  “John, I had a problem.  See, I’m forty-two, and while I’m in good shape now, I know my age is going to start to catch up with me.  I don’t want to be forty-two.  I want to go back to my mid-twenties.  Not only that, but I never had a life of my own since marriage.  I’ve been a housewife, a mother, never anything more. I got sick of being just that, John. I wanted more.  This, you see, kills two birds with one stone.  I’m young again, and no longer just Brian’s wife or Morgan’s mom, I’m just me.  I don’t expect you to understand that.  I mean, I’ve taken your body, your youth.  I wouldn’t blame you if you were in a rage right now.”

                “You thought,” I said, my voice growing lower, which is what I do when I’m really, really angry. “It was fine to take my youth, my body, for this?  Of course I’m in a fucking rage, damn it!  Don’t I deserve my damn youth?  Don’t I deserve to live out my twenties and thirties?”

                “I was trapped!”

                “Bullshit!”  I said, standing up, still a little unsteady, going for the door, opening it.  “You cared about no one here but yourself!  I lost over fifteen years of my life, my best years to your selfish desire for a new youth!  What the hell is wrong with you?!”

                I looked down the hallway, and saw I was on the first floor.  I walked down a hallway to what looked like the living room.

                “Where are you going?”  She said, following me.

                “Home!  Out of here! What do you care?”

                “And then what?”  She asked.  “You have no clothes that fit, no feminine products, no knowledge of how to care for my body, nothing.  You leave now, you’re just hurting yourself.”

                At that, I stopped.  Damn it all, she was right.

                “What do you propose?”

                “My husband is at his parent’s house with my kids right now.  They’ll spend the night there, since it is a few hours away.  We have time to trade clothes, I give you the rundown on my body, and from there I imagine we’ll part ways.  Sound good?”

                I stood there, feeling he heeled sandals on my feet as a shifted a little.  I held out my hand for her to shake.

                “Deal.”  I said. She smiled and she shook it.

                Nearly two hours later, we were back at my apartment building.  While I had on a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses to at least attempt to hide my face, she had no such inclination, leading to a several surprised-looking people as we made trip after trip into my apartment to get it all in.

                When she looked and saw my wardrobe, I figured she’d be almost dismissive.  Mine was just a fraction of the size.  Instead, to my surprise, she was almost delighted.

                As we packed my clothes up, I asked her about why she was happy I had a lot less clothes.  I didn’t care she was happy about it, just curious.

                “My clothes were getting out of hand.  This is manageable.”  She said with a smile.  She then looked at me as I was stuffing boxers into a suitcase.  “How are you doing with this?”

                “Look, don’t do it, okay?  Don’t pretend to care.”

                “I mean, I do care-“

                “Obviously not enough to not include me in this, so, no, really, you don’t.  I’m an organ donor to you, and that’s all.  And don’t expect to be thanked for the clothes.  That’s helping with a problem you caused, nothing more.”

                “If you don’t want the clothes-”

                “I want my body back!  This, I’ll admit this helps, but that’s all it does, helps, some.” I said.  “Look, let’s pack you up so you can go do whatever you were going to do, okay?”

                We packed up her new clothing in silence after that.  She then looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes.

                “I wronged you, John.  If you think I don’t care at all, that’s I’m unfeeling monster, I do have feelings, and now that I got what I thought I wanted, I didn’t consider the costs to you at all.  I can’t undo it, I literally can’t, the procedure isn’t reversible currently, but I can help you with life as a woman.  If you never wish to see me again, I understand, that’s how you should feel.  You’re angry and you should be.”

                I was still angry, still very angry, but at least her admitting this did help at least a little.

                “I’ll think about it.”  I said.

                “All I ask.”  She said.  “I’ll take these down myself in a couple of trips, unless you want to help.  I wasn’t sure how fast you wanted me out.”

                “I don’t really want to go back outside my apartment right now.”

                “I don’t blame you.”

                She took out some luggage and shut the door, and I sat there, wondering, why, why me?  What did she see in me that made her want to do this?  But, what made her so that she thought this was the reasonable course of action?

                After a few minutes, I was in my recliner, the seat tilted back, my legs crossed as she entered.  She smiled meekly.

                “I see you’re getting comfortable.”  She said.

                “I might as well.  Oh, and I meant it, John.  My number is in your phone.”

                I picked up my phone (the men who grabbed me gave it to her) and I found her contact and called it.  Her phone rang.

                “Again, I’ll think about it.”

                “Understandable.”  She said. “Bye.”

                With that, she closed the door.  I stood up, and walked to my bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror.  It was very strange, seeing my male head on her body.  Less interesting but still interesting was my poses were still all masculine so it made everything even more out-of-place.  I decided to strike a feminine pose, my hands on my hips, my one knee bent, heel up.

                Huh, I look pretty good, I realized.  I then decided, screw it and I took off my dress, then my bra, then my panties.

                Damn, you would never know she was forty-two. I stood there and despite the obvious head and body contrast, I smiled as I looked at myself.  I felt my breasts for the first time (beyond those frantic first moments with this body, that is) and I was shocked at how sensitive they really were.  I bit my lip and held back a light moan.  I then ventured downward, feeling my still tight stomach, only the stretch marks from pregnancy marring it.  Having a hairless, soft body felt so different, I realized.  So good.

                Growing more adventurous, I started to feel my thighs, then slowly moved my hands upward, rubbing my ass as I did.  I brushed a hand against my new vagina, and I shuddered slightly at that.

                I have to know how it feels, I lustfully thought as I slowly inserted my fingers into my waiting cunt.  I felt around, slowly, seeing where the pleasure spots were, figuring that it would be, oh, right there, I realized with a hard moan.

                My pace quickened as I knew what I had discovered. I tried to keep from moaning, but it wasn’t easy and I let a few out as I let my fingers work.  I looked at myself in the mirror as I pleasured myself, not caring for the moment about the day’s events.  Only one thing mattered at the moment.  Soon, I was coming close.  I went as fast as I could, my eyes now closed, and when it happened, I nearly fell over, having to steady myself with my free hand.  As it washed over me, and I let my tired fingers rest, I opened my eyes again and laughed.

                Maybe, just maybe, I could get used to this.