Should have known better than betting with my girlfriend Jamie. Should have kept my mouth shut about the way she types on her phone with those nails. Her challenge was simple. We're texting each other the whole alphabet, and whomever does it quicker wins. Unless there's a typo.

Should not have accepted the challenge, but I just couldn't refuse. We were on the first day of our vacation week in Miami and if I'd win she'd give me a blow job every night. Something she hardly ever does, and something I really crave.

At least my text was faster than hers, though not by much. Except my text missed a W. And hers was perfect, despite her long nails. And thus did we find this novel nail spa, and I got my own long nails for the week. The only reason I dared to take the bet was that we were on vacation, so nobody I knew would ever find out. And remember, I didn't plan on losing.

Never been in a nail salon. I didn't know what to expect. Definitely not that I had to sign a waiver. Probably because I was a guy, I figured. And then they soaked my fingers in all kinds of fluids, and eventually somehow the fake nails were attached to my real ones.

I didn't expect them to be bright red, which I would have loved, by the way, had they been on Jamie. She felt guilty about it, so she promised I could take them off a day sooner. As we left they gave me some instructions on paper, but Jamie told me not to worry. She had more than ten years of experience.

I sorta felt like an ass now, when I tried to text a friend, and I had a dozen typos. She showed me how to do it, and now I was typing exactly in the same way that started all of this. Oh well, you can say what you want about me, but I keep my promises. And the good thing? No one here really cared.

Things did go wrong though, soon after. My butt itched, and without thinking I scratched myself, and I drew blood. Not much, but enough to realize these nails can be weapons. Yet later, in the hotel room, while Jamie was getting a facial, I noticed something else when I went to the bathroom. Just holding my own dick, while peeing, turned me on.

I know, that must sound silly, but with my fingers wrapped around my manhood, it looked like a female hand was holding me, with the red nails on top, and I grew hard. And I knew myself, better rub one out, or I'd be sorry for the rest of the day.

So, I took a towel, put it on the bed, and laid down so that my butt was on it, as it would catch my mess. I had two pillows under my head, so I could see what I was doing, and the nails kept turning me on, while I was stroking my manhood.

As I was nearing the point of no return, I started massaging my scrotum with my other hand, as I like the way it pulses there when I cum. And once again I had overlooked the sharpness of these new nails, as a gut wrenching pain stopped everything. Except a gush of blood that is, soaking the towel.

I had no idea I could bleed that hard, but apparently the skin of the scrotum is loaded with it. I pressed the towel tight around the cut, as I got up and made my way to the bathroom.

It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped and the towel was more red than white. With a bit of luck Jamie would feel even more sorry for me, and I could get rid of these nails even sooner, so I didn't try to clean the towel.

Well, she was sorry indeed, and she gave me a wonderful blow job to show. I wasn't going to complain. I was naked as she was between my legs, and for some weird reason I started squeezing my nipples, and it was an enormous turn-on. See? That's why bj's should be done often, so you can find all your erogenous zones, rather than having to rub one out and cut yourself.

Oh well, I take that back. I got so into my nipple play that once more I scratched myself. These nails needed some work to take the sting off, or rather the damn things themselves off.

It still hurt the next day, as did my scrotum and even my butt where I scratched myself first. My nipples were swollen from what looked like an infection. And Jamie saw the same at my buttocks, though my scrotum seemed more like it had shrunken. I guess because of all the blood I had lost.

I scheduled a visit at a minute-clinic not too far away, but the first spot available was not until late afternoon. It didn't feel like I had a fever, so I hoped for the best. But the swelling got worse and Jamie couldn't stop herself from joking that my little “breasts” were a nice match to the nails.

I didn't particularly like that joke, but it did make me think that maybe the nails had bacteries or something on them, causing the infections. And I found the instructions they'd given me still in the wastepaper basket. And when I reviewed it, it was right there.

“Be careful the first two days, while the nails are still sharp, to prevent transferring any of the DNA to other spots of the body, or to someone else.”

DNA? What the fridge!

And as I read the complete text it explained the new technology of using the DNA from the most beautiful “hand model” to create permanent nail extensions that were stronger than any other nail solution. It said that it could even affect the fingers, though most women would never see the difference. But I wasn't a woman, and a closer look at my fingers showed that they were indeed longer and more slender than before. I had blamed the nails for making my hands look more feminine, but based on this we could only conclude that they WERE more looking like a girl's.

So, back to my nipples. Were they really swollen because of an infection, or was some female DNA infused in my skin when I scratched myself?

If it was an infection, then why was my scrotum not swollen? But if it was female DNA, then was I on my way to lose my scrotum? Shrinking it until it was gone?

It was clear we needed to go back to that nail place, as there was no number on the paper. The Closed sign on the door was not a good sign I figured, and a piece of paper under the sign stated they were temporarily closed for using an experimental, unapproved technology, but they hoped to reopen again within two weeks. And I thought of the waiver I signed without reading it even.

Later in the minute-clinic they confirmed that I had no infections, and that I should make an appointment with my primary physician to investigate the true cause of the swelling on my chest.

When I woke up the next morning it was undeniable that I had small breasts, plus I must have scratched my lip in my sleep, and I braced for the worst. Jamie confirmed that my scrotum was much smaller again, like it was simply disappearing. And no matter how hard she tried with another blow job, she couldn't get any life out of my shrunken dick either. It was time to panic!

You can say what you want about Jamie, but she didn't panic. She told me she loved me no matter what was happening to me. She checked my nails and according to her they weren't sharp anymore, and to prove it she pushed the nails of one hand in my belly, and from the other on my still exposed manhood. Both spots still hurt a bit and I saw tiny indentations in my skin.

No matter how I phrased my questions to Google and Bing, there were no hits on DNA infusion of nails, or the transfer of DNA through scratches. We would have to wait until the nail salon opened again, so we could ask the people more detailed questions. In the meantime Jamie wanted to play a bit, since we were still on vacation.

She had me try on one of her bikini tops and it was scary that I filled the cups nicely. And the small bulge I had when trying the matching bottom could easily be mistaken for a camel toe, or a swollen clit.

As embarrassing as it was, she wanted me to wear it to the beach and she told me to get in the shower and shave all my body hair. In the meantime she went out to find a wig for me, which was in a shop apparently less than a block away.

By the time she got back, I was done, and she helped me with my back side. I didn't dare to confess to her how much I had enjoyed soaping my “own breasts”, and simply cupping them. I wondered if that new DNA slowly spreading across my body was affecting my mental state as well, because the initial panic was long replaced by acceptance.

And with the wig and some smart makeup, in her bikini and a sheer beach dress, there was not much left of my male self. In our flip-flops we walked to the beach, and given the interest and whistles we received from the Miami beach crowd it was clear that nobody expected me to be anything else but a pretty girl. And that girl needed a name.

We settled on Carmen, because Jamie loved that name, and I thought it was exotic. For the first hour we soaked up the sun, the main reason we were in Miami in the first place. We chatted softly so I could practice a more girly voice, and I found that didn't give me any problems at all, another sign I was changing throughout.

I soon realized that no matter what would happen, my body would show tan lines in new places for me. Maybe I should sun topless, so that when they would find a solution to restore my own DNA, at least I wouldn't have bra contours on my body? I didn't get a chance to try as suddenly two guys appeared next to our beach chairs.

If we were interested in playing volleyball with them, and before I could decline, Jamie got up already. And thus I ended up playing with John, as faith would have it, a guy with my own name, against Jamie and Greg. And it was fun. Different but fun.

John was very handsy, high-fiving and slapping my butt every time we scored a point. And when he brushed, accidentally I think, one of my breasts, I started craving his touch. Somehow, feeling someone else touching my breasts felt so much better than me touching them.

On the other side I saw Jamie, initiating the touches in a smooth way, and her guy was simply following her lead, and she clearly enjoyed being groped as well. I knew I shouldn't allow her to be that intimate with another guy, instead I mimicked her moves, and indeed John touched me more and more.

I played better and better, my male muscles still having the advantage over Jamie, and we started to win, meaning more high-fives and touches. Then, after a tough save by me, he brushed his lips to mine. Minutes later, after an amazing play, it became a full kiss. My lips were so sensitive that the kiss gave me goosebumps all over.

I felt guilty but Jamie gave me an approving wink with an air kiss. And so, the next kiss I kissed John back. It was like time stood still as I identified every sensation, every nerve on fire, every wet spot on his lips, before I pulled back and smiled in his face.

John was playing now to win, but Greg wanted more too, and got it when they scored four in a row. I could see Jamie wasn't holding back and I saw her tongue in Greg's mouth. I knew I had to do better. And after a beautiful setup John smashed his point in, and I had my own tongue in his mouth before he was done cheering.

I saw Jamie clapping me, and as confusing as it was, I wanted my man to score the final point. But so was Jamie. And her kisses took longer as she pulled Greg into her body. But then, on a defensive play I got the ball perfectly passed to John and I knew he'd make the winning point.

I was on my way already to give my best kiss, but so were Greg and Jamie, protecting at the net, and instead of finishing it, John set the play up for me. And with a half smash into the empty field I made the winner. Next thing I know I was lifted up in the air, and John had his lips fully on me, his tongue probing my throat.

Everything went dark as I enjoyed that feeling, wishing it would never stop. Vaguely I was aware of his hard-on against my legs as my own arms were around his neck. And one thought overrode any sensible reason, I would give myself to him, right here, right now.

But somehow John must have still had some of his senses as he carefully pulled back, saying “Great point, darling!” That's when my eyesight came back, as my eyeballs apparently had rolled back, and I looked in his laughing face, my feet still off the ground.

When I looked back at Jamie, she was smiling too, not mad clearly, as a matter of fact, her body was pushed into Greg's as well. As John put me slowly back on my feet, he whispered “I really want to fuck you tonight”.

As we all had a beer together afterwards, playing back some of the crucial plays, the boys asked us if we were game going out with them later, for dinner and dance. It was Jamie who answered. “I think I'm speaking for Carmen as well when I say we enjoy your company a lot. We love to eat and dance with you, and we don't mind some hanky panky either. As long as you guys remember that Carmen and I are an item with plans to get married.”

I'm not sure what shocked me more. The hanky panky part or the getting married message. I looked her in the eyes and I saw love only, and reality hit me. She was indeed in love. With Carmen. So much, that she wanted to marry me. She didn't want my old self back…

I thought back on our lives together. We've had our ups and downs. Enough ups to go on vacation together, enjoy it even. But never did we even touch the subject of a life together. I mean, not that I didn't want to, because I think she's awesome, but I always had that nagging feeling that I wasn't good enough for her. But now I was? No… Carmen was.

How easily had I adapted to being Carmen? Not that I could have stopped the things happening to my body. But to my mind also I guess. How easily had I kissed John? Wanting his hands on me? Wanting his tongue in my throat? Wanting to be his girl, his woman for the night? I had become Carmen, who liked to flirt with a guy, even do some hanky panky with him, I chuckled. But it was Jamie indeed with whom I wanted to wake up with, for the rest of our lives…

All these thoughts took maybe a fraction of a second, while looking in Jamie's eyes. And I nodded. “I wouldn't mind some hanky panky either. But only if you guys come to our wedding later this year.”

I had answered Jamie's unspoken question. And in a way also John's question, as I wanted him to fuck my brains out. And even Greg's question. Yes, he could fuck Jamie as well. We were here to have some serious fun!