This is my first attempt at writing any type of short story with sexual content. Usual Disclaimer -- Nudity, explicit descriptions of sexual acts. Discard this now if those offend you.
Allen's Technology By Joseph Martin
Allen was my best friend throughout college even though our majors were totally different and we never shared a class. Something had always just clicked with us, and we frequently hung out on the weekend or double-dated with the girls we were seeing at the time.
Always a little more on the reserved side, I was usually reluctant to call and suggest we get together, afraid that I'd interrupt something important or that I'd be imposing. But I never got that impression from him. In fact, he often called first to see what I was doing or if I was available for basketball at the school or a ride up the mountain. And I think I only turned him down once, when I was nearly failing one of my junior writing classes and had to pull an all-nighter to fix a poorly written paper.
It was always hard to say no to Allen. He was incredibly friendly and just hearing his voice on the phone giving me hell for this or that was almost surely to put me in a good mood. "Don't say no to me, Jer, you wuss, " he'd said when I tried to pull out of a racquetball league tournament so I could spend more time with my girlfriend. "Girls come and go, but you'll only get this one chance to beat Alex and Mark." He was my best friend, and he was right. We even won, and Alex and Mark never heard the end of it.
I had always been flattered by his eagerness to share his time with me because, even though I spent at least an hour a day at the gym, I never felt like I was more than average in appearance. But Allen was definitely a very good-looking guy, and I always had a theory about the kind of people guys choose to be around. With women, it's not uncommon for a beautiful woman to hang out with a "plain jane." But guys are very discriminate and only fraternize with similarly looking people. So when Allen, with his bulky gym- built body, chose to hang with me, I was honored.
As college wore to a close, we saw less of each other. Between my reading projects and thesis papers for my English major, his research at the physics labs, and our scoping for work after graduation, we hardly had time for anything else. When we turned twenty-one at two month intervals, we took turns getting drunk at a strip club and had a great time. But that year was the first year we didn't see each other at least once a week.
After graduation, it was even harder to get time to have a beer together. He moved back to Seattle for a job doing research for an environmental firm, and I, unable to find work with only a bachelor's in English, stayed in Minneapolis. After about four months, I was completely destitute, living with my parents, my morale regarding my job prospects at an all-time low. Allen visited from time to time, and after my girlfriend of two years broke up with me to take a job up north, his friendship became even more important.
It was obvious he was doing well. While he made no attempt to flaunt it, his ability to visit from Seattle every other month or so and treat me to a weekend on the town showed that he had found success. I never had the nerve to ask what he was doing because I felt it would shame me even more, living in my parents' basement, praying the paper would have some job I could take without embarrassment. And he never talked about his work or my lack of it, seeming to understand what a profoundly agonizing situation I was in.
Three more months passed, and I became so grossly depressed that I stopped returning his calls when I saw my mother's notes on the refrigerator door. He was my best friend, but he was also a reminder of my complete failure. After a three-day period when I only got out of bed to use the bathroom, my parents' level of concern rose to legitimate worry, and I was physically taken to a therapist. Nearly a month of unsuccessful sessions with my therapist left my parents' health plan at its limit, and me completely without hope.
The notes that Allen had called had also stopped appearing on the fridge. I was crushed. My only friend in the world had deserted me. Never mind that I was the one who stopped returning calls and retreated, he should have persevered. I felt abandoned.
Another week or two passed before I was awakened one afternoon by a gentle familiar voice, and once I opened my eyes, a face that gave me hope. Of course, Allen, in his infinite wisdom and endless friendship, had come to visit. "I talked to your Dad," he said. He stood up, and looked a million miles away, framed against the ceiling. There was a long pause, and the expression he wore was one of both concern and happiness. I knew what he must have heard. I was lost and probably suicidal, I never got out of bed, I needed a friend and some hope. "Everybody's pretty worried, and well, it just seems to me that you need to get a different perspective. Maybe get out of town. Broaden your horizons."
"Allen, I'm doing fine, and I just"
"Bullshit," he said sternly.
I was stunned. Normally, Allen would tease me when he knew what was best and I didn't, but this wasn't teasing. "You're not doing fine, and you're wallowing in self pity. You've been my best friend for too long for me to ignore that, or let you fool yourself into thinking you don't need my help. Get dressed."
I did. My will to resist had evaporated long ago, and I begrudgingly got out of bed and proceeded to find clean clothes to wear. It took some time, but Allen was patient, and watched me the whole time.
"You've lost some weight," he said worriedly as I finally found a shirt to pull over my head. I had nothing to say. Weight was not my greatest concern. Then, his mood seemed to change. The smile returned, and as I reached for a shoe, he jokingly said, "we're either going to have to get you back to the gym, or find you some decent shoulder pads!" And he laughed. Infectious as always, Allen's laugh brought a smile to my lips, and I thought for just a moment that there was probably hope after all.
I saw the sun for the first time in a couple of weeks that day, and during the evening, he proposed a plan for me that he thought would help me get started. "You haven't worked in like, eight months, so it's going to be a little tough to find the kind of job you would've right out of school," he said after two drinks and appetizers. "But you're intelligent enough, and your grades were always excellent, after a fashion anyway, right?"
"After a fashion," I said with a sarcastic tone. My grades were never stellar, but I worked hard, and had the respect of my instructors.
"So, I don't know what you'll say, but I've been thinking that you need to move to Seattle with me and get started working at this publishing firm out there." I paused mid-bite. "Before you say anything, just let me finish," he said. "I know the manager of the human resources group there, and she's very cool and is looking for someone with an English background to get in on a lower level, say as a sort of HR assistant. It wouldn't be anything glamorous, but at least it would be something. And it's at a publishing house, so it's still working for the same industry."
"Plus, I've got this three-bedroom place all to myself. I can easily give up one room without even noticing. Not that it wouldn't be my pleasure to have you around, too." He paused, seeming to wait for my reaction.
I began to object. My ego was bruised. I couldn't let him find me a job and expect me to move. "Allen, I'm flattered you're talking to people, but I can't let you do that -- I'm not even interested in HR."
"Hey, buddy, it's not like you have that many other opportunities you're fending off -- and you wouldn't necessarily get this job, either. You'd have to apply, and while you were doing that you might find something better. Maybe in high-tech or something."
As always, he was right. We continued to talk, and I began to see something positive in the future, and my mood improved with each hour and each drink. And the drinks kept coming.
I still have no idea what time it was that we finally decided to leave the restaurant, and my memory is very spotty from that point until the next morning. I remember I was in no shape to drive, and I was very concerned about Allen, too. He'd matched me almost drink-for-drink, but he insisted he was fine. In retrospect, we were probably lucky to get back to my parent's house alive or without a jailhouse detour.
Allen hadn't gotten a room in town that night, and so I must have offered to have him stay at my parent's place. Unfortunately, all the spare bedrooms had been reused as office or studio space, and the only bedroom other than my parent's was mine. But only a drunk could forget that, so when we got back to my parent's place, Allen ended up sharing my bed with me. And something happened. I'm not sure exactly what, and I'm not really sure Allen knew, either, but something. I know because I woke up at about 5:20 in the morning completely naked with Allen, also naked, in my arms. My head was in such pain I could hardly move, but I was so stunned once I realized who it was in the bed with me that I practically jumped out of the bed. And the room moved in an agonizing, nauseating circle around me.
I rushed into the bathroom as quickly as I could and threw up for about 20 minutes or so, I guess, before Allen came in. Between bouts of wretching, I'd had time to process some spotty memories, and I knew that we hadn't gone to bed in the nude, but I didn't remember anything after my head hit the pillows. I had noticed a bite mark on my right thigh.
And when Allen finally took a step, I realized I was still naked. Horrified, I reached for a towel that should have been hanging near the toilet, but wasn't. I fumbled, and then looked over to where Allen had stopped just inside the bathroom doorway. He was wearing his underwear now, and looked like he was in pain, with his hand on his head. He wasn't really looking at me, but sortof at the wall above me. He took two steps toward me and then one toward the counter, where he picked up the towel I couldn't find, and handed it to me. I took it silently, and bunching it around me, slumped against the wall near the toilet.
"Wild night," he said, not as a question and without a hint of sarcasm or humor.
"I guess," was all I could manage to reply.
"You should take a shower. I think I'm going to try to get an early flight back." He stood there for about 10 seconds before turning around and heading back into the room. As he walked into the room, the light from the bathroom shone on his back, and I noticed lots of little bruises on his back, as well as what appeared to be bite marks on his lower back and upper thighs.
I wanted to object to his leaving, but it was clear that something had happened, and I wasn't sure either of us wanted to talk about it or have to face the other and whatever it was that had occurred.
I sat in my spot against the wall until I heard him close the bedroom door behind him and the sound of his footsteps on their way up the stairs was no longer audible. I ached, and it wasn't just my head. My legs were sore, like I'd done squats the day before or something. Slowly, I stood up and turned to face the mirror. I looked like hell, but I had two more bite marks on my chest as well as what was clearly a hickee on my neck, just below my left ear. What had happened? What had we done? The truth seemed so obvious that I couldn't believe it could be that simple.
"We're both straight," I thought to myself as I turned on the shower. "Maybe we got a couple of girls and brought them back with us, but they left." I continued to rationalize.
The shower felt wonderful as I stepped under it, and as I turned to get my entire body wet, my hand hit something that was crunchy in my pubic hair for only a moment before it got wet, and then there was no trace. I immediately knew what it was, and I was terrified. Whatever Allen and I did was something completely new to both of us, and I wondered if he knew what it was, or if he'd ever speak to me again.
The next day I spent drinking a lot of water and taking plenty of painkillers, something I try to avoid. I've always felt that taking drugs in all except the most serious situations was something to be avoided, but my head hurt, and I was in no position to turn down my Mother's invitation to the bottle of Advil. "I take it you boys had a great time last night," she said mockingly.
"It would seem so," I said, before gulping down the pills. "Has he called yet?"
"No, why"
"Well, he headed out early this morning and I wondered if he had any news."
"About?"
"He suggested that I move up there with him to get a job."
"Oh, Honey!" she exclaimed, "that's wonderful!"
"Well, I just wanted to know if the offer was still good, because I'm thinking I should take it."
"Well, of course you should. You need to get a change of scenery and get on with your life."
I knew that as much as anyone, but I was no longer so certain that I should be going to spend more time around Allen. Would things be awkward? Would we even be able to be around each other?
Allen called the next afternoon and we spoke for about twenty minutes. He seemed to be in a chatty mood, and asked "Are you packed yet?"
"Packed yet?" I asked, surprised. "Why would I be packed already?"
"Well, I talked to your Mom before she handed the phone over, and she's totally excited for you, so I figured you were probably preparing."
"Allen, we only talked about me moving in with you as a sort of possibility. If you're serious, though, I'm ready to give Seattle a try."
"Good. Well, let me know when your plane comes in, and I'll pick you up."
And so that was that. I was moving to Seattle, and everyone was totally supportive. My parents bought me a one-way ticket, and with three suitcases of clothes, I arrived at SEATAC. Allen was friendly and gave me a buddy hug when I came out of the gate, immediately calming my nerves and eliminating any doubts I may have had about our relationship and how it had changed.
We arrived at his apartment on Queen Anne Hill and I was shown my room. Allen told me that we were going out for dinner, but that wouldn't be the norm. And tomorrow was my interview at the publishing firm. He left the room to get me something from the fridge while I unpacked, but instead of getting straight to work, I sat on the bed in a daze for a moment. My world had changed very suddenly in the course of four days. Here I was in my best friend's apartment in Seattle with a new lease on life, and a lot of questions in the air.
Over dinner, Allen explained what he did at Environ Technologies, the firm where he worked. He spared me most of the gory details, but it had something to do with microscopic robots that were designed to repair damaged ecosystems and do things like clean up oil spills. I was impressed.
"But the best part of all, is that I've quickly become the group manager, which means that while I sometimes spend late nights, I can still go in whenever I want," he explained. "So since you have to be sharp as a tack for you interview tomorrow and tomorrow's a Friday anyway, you're the desecrated driver tonight, my friend," he said with a light punch to my shoulder.
"Desecrated, indeed, " I agreed. "But in that case, I want to watch you get drunk. Have another drink."
"For you, my friend, anything. Well, almost anything, anyway, " he joked. And I felt a chill. I wondered to myself what he meant by that.
An hour and a half and five drinks later, Allen was barely human. I watched with great humor when he staggered to the bathroom just before we left. And after he got in the car, he had a hell of time with his seatbelt, so I had to reach across him to help him with it. As I did, he sat perfectly still with this sappy drunk grin on his face, and as I finally brought the strap around his waist, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his stomach just above his groin and said, "I love you man."
It was so cliche it would have made me laugh, except I wondered if it were true. I wasn't sure of that at all. In fact, that night, after practically carrying an unconscious Allen into his room and depositing him on his bed, I lay awake for probably two hours before I was able to sleep. Was he gay? Was I? How could either of us be, we'd both had girlfriends for years..... I'd never deny that I cared for Allen immensely, and perhaps even that I loved him the way two best friends do, but I found myself worrying that there was something more.
The next morning my interview didn't go well. I was tired from having stayed up too late thinking, and I looked the part. The woman who interviewed me was obviously unimpressed, and although my credentials were probably exactly what she was looking for, I doubted that I was a what she was looking for as far as personality fit. I went home and got undressed in my room and stood in front of the mirror looking at my body, at the person I had become. I was feeling depressed again, and I wasn't sure who I was. I was a decent looking guy. I needed to put on some weight, but I still had the broad chest and sandy blonde hair that had helped me do well with girls. I stuck my chest out and it didn't look nearly as impressive as it once had, but I thought I looked all right. And I should go back to the gym. Get my blood flowing. It'd improve my mood and my looks.
I spent part of the afternoon looking for a gym to join, but all of them were so expensive, not like the cheap access I had at school. Until I found a job, there'd be no way I could justify that kind of monthly expense.
Feeling a little defeated, I grabbed a paper on my way back to the apartment, and during the bus ride home, I searched for potential job leads. By the time I got to Allen's door, I was tired, and had only just gotten through the help wanted ads. I collapsed on the couch and began to look through the ones I had already circled, crossing out half of them on second examination. At some point, my eyes closed and I just fell asleep.
Allen got home at around 6:00 that night, he said, and tiptoed around the apartment until I woke up about a half an hour later. He was sitting on the edge of the couch when I woke up and asked "You want a soda, or something?" I responded that I would, and he tousled my hair before he got up.
The coke he brought back from the fridge was in a glass, and he apologized that most of the carbonation had left it after he opened the liter bottle the night before. "Just didn't close it tight enough, I guess," he said, handed me the glass, and then went back into the kitchen. He was right. It was pretty flat, but it was still refreshing after my two-hour nap on the couch. I gulped it down and went in to join him in the kitchen.
"Dinner at home tonight," he said as he took some vegetables out of the fridge. "Any luck with Cindy?"
"Oh, I don't think so," I replied. "I didn't sleep well last night and I don't think I made a good impression."
"Too bad, man. That'd be a sweet place to work. So I saw you had want-ads circled."
"Yeah, well, I figured if I didn't get the job with her, that I'd better be looking elsewhere, you know?"
"Good plan. But hey, don't feel like there's any pressure. You're here now, and it takes as long as it takes. I don't plan on kicking you out any time soon if you end up having a hard time getting work."
"Thanks Allen. I appreciate it. I do." I said humbly.
"I know."
After the stir-fry that Allen had cooked was long gone, and we'd each had a glass of port after dinner, Allen started talking about his work. "You know some of the stuff we're working on could save the planet if used the right way. The technology could be used for all kinds of things. Contamination cleanup is just the start. Hell, it could end up being in food and medicine and all facets of life."
I had no idea how to talk with him about this issue, but he also couldn't talk about Hemmingway or Whitman, either. "Sounds great, " I said, not knowing what else to say.
He looked at me quizzically and replied, "You don't really understand what I'm talking about, do you?"
"No," I said. "Should I?"
"No, I guess not." There was a good pause as he finished the last of his port. Then he said something that really surprised me. "You know, I think it's fantastic that you're here. I really do. You're my best friend and I can't think of anyone I'd rather share my home with."
I was taken aback. "Wow, thanks Allen. I'm really flattered. I'm glad I'm here, too." I stumbled over my thanks and totally failed to respond appropriately. But the subject dropped, and we went into the living room to watch some TV for about two hours, before the wine really hit me and it was time for bed.
For two weeks I continued to look for work through the paper and I still had no real promising leads. My resume seemed to be sitting on the desk of every HR person in the city, but there were no bites. I was bummed, but Allen was keeping my spirits elevated as best he could. He was a fantastic cook, and since I had more time than he did, I kept the apartment clean. Maybe cleaner than he had, I don't know.
One morning about that time, I noticed it looked like my hair was growing in a different color. Puzzled, I chalked it up to the more northern climate. But as my roots grew in, it was undeniable. My hair had dramatically changed color from its normally sandy blonde to a rich chestnut brown. I was disturbed, but not too worried. Then one afternoon, Allen and I were in the car headed to a movie he wanted to see when, at a stoplight, he looked over and said, "So you've stopped bleaching your hair, huh?"
"I've never bleached my hair. It just changed color. I can't explain it." I said, puzzled as ever.
"Huh, really? It really changed all of a sudden then? Maybe it's the northern climate," he said.
"I don't really think so, Allen. I mean, have you ever heard of something this sudden and dramatic?"
"I guess not. Well, it'll go better with your eyes anyway," he said jokingly.
"My eyes are green. How does brown go better with green?" I said, annoyed.
"Hey, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but your eyes are brown, too," Allen said with a laughing tone.
I was getting agitated. "Yours must be too, then, because you're completely full of shit," I said accusingly.
"Who, dude. Chill out. I'm not kidding. Check the mirror."
I pulled down the mirror on the sun visor, and sure enough, my eyes were brown, too. "Oh shit. Allen, this is scary. This kind of thing doesn't just happen."
"Maybe you should see a doctor," he suggested.
He was right, but short of needles, doctors' offices have always been the place I was most uncomfortable in. "Maybe I should just wait a bit and see if it changes back." I said. I was scared, but it was only cosmetic, I said to myself.
"In that case, you should probably dye your blonde to match your brown." He teased. I felt better.
That night he made root beer floats after we got home from the movie, and he apologized that the fizz was not what it should have been.
Once it was pointed out to me that my eye color had changed too, I was on the lookout for other changes, but I couldn't find them. All my body hair had started growing in darker, which didn't surprise me, but I simply got a hair cut so that only my new, natural color was visible, and I trimmed the hair on my chest, underarms, and pubes so that it didn't look like I'd been dipped in bleach three or four weeks ago.
But Allen's and my relationship had changed. He no longer encouraged me to find work at all, and was much more -- well -- affectionate toward me. He and I started being mistaken for brothers even though we looked nothing alike. I figured it was because we had grown so close that people mistook us for relations based on our behavior. But what I definitely noticed more of was an increased tendency to touch me on the arm, or even the hand. Very un-buddylike behavior. Once in a while he'd call me "Babe" jokingly, and after a time, I had to ask him to stop, which seemed to embarrass him.
I was sure he was gay. But I was also enjoying the closeness, and wondered if maybe I might be gay, too. Bi, anyway. It scared the hell out of me, though. What would I tell my parents? My friends?
But the obvious kept popping up. We were very close. He'd leave his hand on my leg while we sat on the couch watching TV, and then tousle my brown hair when he got up to go to the bathroom. Once in a while, I'd be on my bed at night naked and sweating with my dick in my hand, and I'd consciously change the fantasy lover in my mind from some actress to Allen, just to see if it would help me get off. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. It was the times it worked that sortof worried me.
And I started catching him naked in the apartment. It wasn't that Allen and I never saw each other in the buff, but it was always a locker-room situation. This was different. He wasn't bothering to put on clothes in the apartment when he got up in the morning before and after his shower. He'd walk in completely naked while I was showering and talk to me through the glass. I'd see him walking out of the kitchen with a snack on the way back to his room. Nude with ever-greater frequency. And it didn't bother me, really, it just struck me as odd. Sometimes, after watching him walk down the hall toward the bathroom, his ass firm and his back broad, I'd find myself with a hardon in my pants, and I'd retire to my room to relieve the pressure.
And more and more, women had no sexual appeal to me. On a couple of occasions, I refused to let Allen or any other muscular stud creep into my fantasy as I pumped my cock, and I couldn't get off. The women, no matter how large their tits were or wet their pussies were, couldn't help me get off. Each night, I ultimately had to relent and allow Allen's image to resurface before I could fill my hand with cum.
However, one Saturday evening I saw him bent over in the kitchen getting something from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, and noticed his balls hanging between his legs. They seemed huge, and it struck me as odd that I could see them from that angle. He turned around to take his loot with him to his room, and I was awestruck at the size of his member and his balls. They seemed gigantic. Facing me, he saw what must have been my look of surprise, and grinned. Holding a carrot in his left hand, he struck a body- builder's pose for me and then promptly headed on his way, patting me on the ass as he passed me. He looked wonderful. He looked huge. He patted me on the ass.
I made a beeline for my room, an erection in my pants. But when I pulled my pants down, I realized I was tiny by comparison. In fact, I was too small. And he was too large. What was going on? I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a ruler. After pumping on my dick for a few moments, thinking of Allen bent over at the fridge, I measured my dick. So hard it ached, it stood at just short of four inches. I had been at least that long when soft a year ago, but now this was changing, too? And Allen -- maybe he wasn't so huge after all, maybe I had just gotten used to my own shrinking size. Still, he must have been at least 6 inches soft, which made my erection seem teeny. I finished the hand-job I desperately needed and then stepped to the mirror.
Allen had never been so much larger than me before. I'd never measured myself prior to that date, but I always knew I was about average, and Allen always seemed to be about the same size, based on what I saw at the gym. Now that was no longer true. My dick had been shrinking. I pulled at it in its soft state. It couldn't have been more than an inch and a half long, and strangely enough, it seemed as though it was uncircumcised. Not really, but sortof. Like my foreskin was starting to grow back or something. My examinations led me to my balls, which were also much smaller. I'd always had especially large, low hanging balls, but I discovered that they were no longer large or low-slung.
About the size of acorns, they were held tightly against my body. What was going on? How could I have changed this much without noticing? I must have changed so slowly that I didn't even notice the change.
I began to feel short of breath, and lay down on my bed, my hand at my crotch. What was going on? I concentrated on steady breathing, on making sure I didn't panic, but I was just plain scared. Why was my dick so small? What had happened to me? Was it related to the hair and eye color change?
I held my little dick in my hand, rubbing it to see what was different, and there was nothing, really, it was just shorter, and maybe a tiny bit narrower. As I played with it, I realized that maybe it felt different now than it used to, too. Not really different, just more intense when I rubbed it at the base of the glans. Quickly, my breathing became heavier and I brought myself to another orgasm, pumping a small load of cum onto my chest. I wiped it off with a towel from the closet and went to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, I stood naked in front of the mirror again, examining my body. Not in a panic any more, but still worried, I noticed other changes. My dick was still small, as were my balls. But I was missing the birthmark on my right arm, and all the scars on my body had faded to the point that it was hard to find them.
Perplexed but still determined to lead my day according to my original plan, I went into the shower. True to form, Allen showed up mid-way through my shower, and after peeing, turned to chat with me. I could see the lighter outline of his cock as it hung against the dark bush between his legs, and I felt my erection stir. I turned so that he couldn't see it, and as the conversation finished, I was left thinking about my situation. Should I go to a doctor? Would a doctor be able to stop this? Had any of this happened to anyone else before? I decided that there was nothing a doctor could do except tell me I had a hormonal problem and give me drugs which I didn't want, so I made up my mind to wait until I had something real to bring them.
When I dressed and came of out my room, Allen was lying naked on the couch watching a hockey game, one leg on the couch and the other on the floor. I came in quietly and sat at the other end, just out of reach of his foot. "Whattarya doin today?" he asked.
"I don't know. I guess I'll look for work again. It's been months, Allen, don't you think it's time for me to get a job?" I asked.
"If you want one, sure. But I have to say, I don't think we need another income in the house. If you'd like something to do with your time, then by all means." He reached over and rubbed my forearm with his hand, then let it fall into his naked groin.
I didn't know how to take his comment. "I've noticed you're naked in the apartment a lot these days," I said, changing the subject.
"Do you mind?"
"Um, no, I guess not, it just seemed odd to me that you'd spend so much time in the nude."
He took his hand out of his crotch and scratched his head as he turned away from the game, with a look of confusion on his face. I took a quick glance at his cock, which he saw. And he was grinning again. "If you'd rather I don't do it as much any more, just let me know."
"Well, OK." I said. I gulped. "Have you noticed me changing any more?"
"What do you mean, like your hair and eyes?" he asked.
"Well, sure."
"No, not really. Maybe you're a little more tan and that's clearing up your skin some, but that's about it."
"Oh, OK." I got up and made myself a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, where I sat eating alone. I thought about what was happening to me, and this sense of overwhelming sadness just ran over me in a wave. I sniffled just a bit before squelching the tears. But as I passed Allen on my way back to my bedroom after I finished my cereal, Allen saw me and quickly got up.
"Have you been crying?"
"No. No, I haven't"
"You've been crying, what's wrong?"
"I just don't know who I am anymore."
And he hugged me. Naked, built, and hung, he hugged me for a long while until I broke away because I was afraid he'd feel the wood growing in my pants. I gave him a smile and a "Thanks" and then went back to my room, where I stood in front of the mirror once more. I could still feel the erection in my pants, but it wasn't visible beneath my clothes. God, my dick was small.
Another week passed and I checked myself daily. My balls were the first to almost completely vanish. At the end of the week, I had a patch of loose skin between my dick and my asshole, and nothing more. My dick, for it's own account, had continued to shrink, and was now only about three inches at its maximum length, and practically hid in my pubic hair when soft. But it was increasingly responsive to stimulation, and I had fantastic almost-dry orgasms every night, although my technique changed from a grasping pump to using my underwear to rub its underside.
When I put on my underwear, my crotch looked like that of a girl wearing men's briefs. A big, empty sack hung off the front. I was no longer frightened, but more interested to see what would happen. So far, I didn't have to sit to pee, but if I didn't, I risked splashing the room if my pubic hair got in the way of the stream. I started to sit while I peed.
At the end of the second week, my dick had practically vanished. It was about 1/2 of an inch long and about as big around as my pinky finger when it was completely hard, and hid itself in my pubic hair when soft. I had taken to wiping my entire pubic region whenever I peed to avoid unnecessary mess after I was done. But this was mainly due to the fact that my urethra no longer terminated at the end of my dick, but further down in my groin. It had, for lack of a better word, "migrated" over the course of two days to where it now was and showed no further sign of movement. As for my scrotum, it had begun to recess into my body, forming folds of tissue around an ever-deepening, sensitive orifice. I could put my finger in to just beyond the fingernail.
I was developing a vagina, there was no question about it. But I was not just interested to see what would happen, I was excited. I woke up every morning and masturbated for almost an hour before getting out of bed. My penis, or whatever it was now was so erogenous that once I pulled the little hood back I could rub it with my index finger and thumb until I came over and over. And I never ejaculated.
Allen commented that I was looking happier when he came home from work one night, and I simply replied that I was feeling great. He smiled broadly, reached for my chest and tugged at my chest hair as he said "good man." I couldn't help but smile. Was I a man any more? Did it matter?
That night I had to suppress a scream as I made myself cum for the third time in 10 minutes.
Another week passed, and as far as I could tell, I had a fully formed vagina. And I was hornier than hell, and constantly wet. Rubbing my clit no longer did it for me, and I was having a hard time staying out of the bedroom. I spent hours naked on my bed with my legs spread and my fingers between them. I loved having a pussy and the new sensations it offered. I couldn't believe how great it felt.
One of the interesting observations I had about my new groin was the freedom of movement I felt. And the cool breeze that I felt across my moist, new lips as I moved around the room.
About four days after I became complete, I woke up one morning, and after masturbating and showering, went out to the kitchen for breakfast where Allen was sitting in the nude reading a paper. I sat near him with my bowl of cereal where I could see his dick, and took long look, memorizing its position, half hard against his leg. I could feel the warmth build in my abdomen, and while I ate with my right hand, I began to work into the leg of my light blue surfing shorts with my left. Allen was engrossed in the paper. I became engrossed in rubbing my clit, and had to keep my concentration on the bowl of cereal, lifting one spoonful at a time to my mouth.
"Having trouble getting your balls comfy?" Allen asked. I jumped, knocking the bowl of cereal into the air and upside down on table, milk and flakes going everywhere.
I looked sheepishly at him and then got up to clean up the mess. As I approached the sink looking for a rag or sponge, I noticed the wetness of the fingers on my left hand, and rinsed it quickly before returning to the table to clean my mess. I finally got the whole table clean and was bent over cleaning up some milk on the floor, when Allen said teasingly, "You seem to have gotten some in your crotch, too, Jer."
I straightened up and felt between my legs. Sure enough, they were wet. But it wasn't milk that was there, I was caught getting my shorts wet over a naked man. Fortunately, he couldn't have known that. I chuckled with him for a moment before quickly finishing up and going back to my room to masturbate and change.
After that incident, every time Allen I saw me, he gave me a big grin. And whenever I'd ask him, "What?" he'd reply with an "Oh, nothing." And then I'd have to go into my room and sink my fingers into my body until I bit my lip to keep from crying out with pleasure. Allen.
After a few days of this, I was beside myself with horniness and so one afternoon I pulled on some jeans and a shirt and asked Allen for $50. I was very determined about my mission, but I couldn't share with him what I needed.
"What is it you need fifty bucks for, Jer?" he asked again.
"I can't tell you, it's very personal. Just trust me that I need the money." He finally relented and gave me three twenties from his wallet.
When I got home, he wanted to see what was in the plain brown bag, but I wouldn't show him. "I told you it's personal" I said to his pleas. He was frustrated, but it was an excited sort of frustrated that I couldn't place. It almost seemed like the kind of sexual frustration I was feeling day in and out now that I had become female. Only he didn't know -- I still looked male to the observer.
I went to my room and popped the batteries in, and turned it on. With my legs spread, I rubbed my lips first with the dildo, gasping from the pleasure, and then went for my clit. Electrical shocks - Paradise - ran through my body. I sat up suddenly with the shock of it, and then bore down for more. I had to turn my face into a pillow to muffle my gasping and yelping and when I came the second time, I let myself have a break. The warmth running through my body was astounding and I held the pillow to my chest until I had recovered.
I was standing in front of the mirror looking at myself. I looked basically like a man with nothing between my legs. The three day's beard growth, the hairy chest. No hips, no breasts. I was a guy with a pussy. I ran my fingers down the folds of my vagina, looking for the clit I knew was there. A slight rub, and the now-familiar zing ran through me. A drop of vaginal fluid ran down my leg to my foot. I smiled at the person standing in the mirror, and he grinned back, knowing my secret and relishing it along with me.
Crawling back onto the bed, I grabbed the dildo, still running from my last bout with it, and began to rub my lips and clit until the incredible wetness inside me seemed unbearable, and then moved the device to my entry, pressing it in a little at a time. There was pressure, and then a shock of pain, which I grinned at. I had just taken my own virginity. I began thrusting it in and out a little at a time, flexing my muscles against it, loving the feeling of it filling me, and relishing the smell filling the room. When I came, the pillow didn't seem to help cover up my scream and just as I was recovering, there was a knock at the door.
Allen! Oh, shit. "Just a minute, man!" I hollered. "I'll be out in a minute." The bedspread had a large wet spot on it where I had been laying, and the towel must have smelled like all kinds of woman.
"Are you OK? I heard a noise," he said from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine. You ready for dinner?" I said as I pulled on my jeans and t-shirt again.
"Yeah, meet you in the kitchen."
After hiding the bedspread and towel, I made a check of the room. I turned on the ceiling fan and made a stop in the bathroom on the way to the kitchen. My hands smelled like pussy and I couldn't have him smelling that on me, even though it was my own. Cleaned up, I walked into the kitchen to find him reading at the table. He looked up as I entered. "Your personal thing work out OK?" he asked with a hint of taunting.
"Oh, yeah, it's fine. Thanks for the cash."
"Well, whatever you need."
He grinned at me and I blushed. "Thanks."
He was so handsome, I began to feel the wetness between my legs and a familiar warmth. But as far as he knew, I was a guy. Dinner was wonderful, and he said all kinds of really kind things that I never expected. What a pleasure it was to have me around, and how much better life had been for him since I was here. Then after we cleaned up the dishes, it turned out he had rented a "chick flick" that seemed to touch both of us.
I noticed his hand on my upper thigh at one point, and I just smiled and enjoyed its warmth. And then when we stood up to go to bed, he hugged me again, and although I felt like I might stain the carpet with with juices dripping down the insides of my legs, he would never know. He held me just tiny bit closer before releasing me, and I felt a hard-on beneath his pants. For just a moment it pressed against me, and it seemed like a goliath.
We each looked at the other for a moment, he smiled a little and then we went to our rooms.
That night I went to bed fantasizing that the dildo inside me was Allen. Over and over during the night I woke up and worked it in and out of me, gasping his name into the pillow. But when I woke up in the morning, I felt remarkably refreshed and not at all obsessed with my new sex the way I had the week before. I stood in front of the mirror and marveled at what my male exterior hid from the world. As I turned and looked at my body from different angles, I noted a soreness in my hips and chest. And suddenly I had an intense sense of impending diarrhea. I ran to the toilet and seemingly emptied my body, amazed at the volume of fluid and matter that left me.
I recovered and climbed into the shower, feeling the warmth on my body, and a surprising sensitivity on my nipples. "Am I going to look like a woman, too?" I thought to myself without a moment of anxiety. I just wondered. I surmised that if feeling like this so far was so great, the rest couldn't be too bad. Lost in my thoughts and in touching my nipples and vagina, I didn't notice Allen come in as usual. With my back to him so he couldn't see how female I'd become, we talked about how we slept, and I mentioned that I seemed to have an upset stomach.
"I feel fine," he reported. "You ate everything I did, so it's not food poisoning."
I laughed at his defense to the accusation I never made. "The food you cooked was great. Who said it was food poisoning?" I asked.
"Just wanted to be sure. Still, I'll be on the lookout for any symptoms in myself"
"Wouldn't hurt, I suppose," I said to him, and turned my head to look at him. He was naked and seemed to have an erection, but it was hard to tell through the fogged glass doors. Again, I had the urge to touch myself, or more accurately, him.
"Well, seeya in a few," he said with a shrug and headed out the door.
My fingers immediately found my clit, and I turned to face the shower. The new sensation on my nipples felt burning hot under the spray, and my fingers quickly brought me the climax I needed, holding on to the shower rail with my left hand.
After dressing, I went into the kitchen and sat at the table in the chair next to Allen, who, of course, was dressed only in a t-shirt and socks. "Feeling better?" he asked. He didn't really look up from the crossword he was working on, but kept trying to solve a particular clue. I didn't respond, too busy studying his form. He was so masculine in his t-shirt, the bulge of each pec clearly visible beneath the threadbare fabric. His balls pooled on the seat of the chair between his legs, with the head of his dick resting gently on them. I wanted to touch it.
"You OK?" he asked the previous question again, catching my stare. I was silent again, just looking him in the face as he smiled. His expression never broke, and he repeated himself with "Are you?"
"Oh! Yeah.... Sure... I'm fine." I managed to get out. "You want some breakfast?"
He said he did, and as I made eggs over the range, he seemed to be watching me. Studying me, almost. I felt a little uncomfortable and a little excited, but I wasn't sure which I felt more. When the toast finally popped up and I brought our plates to the table, Allen ate quickly, finishing his crossword between bites. My appetite seemed to be non-existent. In fact, I finally offered my full plate to Allen, who ate it gladly and then asked again if I felt OK.
"Yeah, I think so. I'm just a little sleepy, I guess." I replied, noticing that I was having a hard time staying awake, almost like needing a 2:00pm nap.
"Maybe you should lay down for a few minutes," he suggested. I took him up on his suggestion and went back to my room, already too exhausted to even work myself up into my now-routine orgasm.
I slept for 7 hours. When I woke it was late afternoon, and I could hear that the house was empty. Allen was probably at work. I felt OK, but was incredibly thirsty. In a sleepy fog, not bothering to put anything on, I crossed the hall to the bathroom and gulped down three glasses of water before feeling the diarrhea pressure again. And again, the volume was immense. When my senses came back to me, I started to absorb my surroundings.
Everything seemed different. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but nothing was right. Every object seemed just slightly the wrong size somehow, and the lighting was too bright. "Maybe Allen changed the bulb in the bathroom, and this was throwing everything off," I thought to myself.
Still exhausted, I stumbled back to my bed and lay there literally panting for a moment. Why was I so sick all of a sudden? Stomach flu or something? I was concerned, but sure that it was a virus, I went back to sleep. Two hours later I awakened with more diarrhea and the need to pee like nothing I'd ever known. And thirst again. What was going on? I was less exhausted this time, though, and had time to soak up my surroundings better.
Allen still wasn't home. It must have been 6:00 or so by this time, so he'd be home soon. But I felt different, and I felt like I was in a different place. It took longer to reach the bathroom, the toilet was higher off the floor, and on the way back to the bedroom, I noticed my breasts.
They were definitely small, like a young teenage girl's, but they were there, and when I touched them they were very sensitive.
I stood naked in front of the mirror for probably five minutes examining the changes my body. My face was much more rounded, with softer features. And very different. I could hardly recognize myself except for those deep brown eyes. I had no body hair on my chest or face at all, and my pubic hair had visibly receded into a triangle close to my pussy. My breasts were sensitive and I could just cup them in my hand. And my hips seemed wider just a tiny bit. Maybe not even enough to see, but I could feel it somehow. They were wider, my stomach flatter, and my bottom somehow rounder. I wanted to explore, to look at the girl in the mirror and see it happening, but I was exhausted, and then the pressure again.
Another dash to the bathroom, and I made it back to bed just in time to hear the door open as Allen came into the apartment. I didn't wake up until 3:00 am, made another bathroom trip and awoke again first thing in the morning.
It was a Tuesday, and I heard Allen's alarm going off down the hallway. It must be 7:00am. It was turned off abruptly, and I knew the weekday morning ritual had begun. I moved my arm under the covers, and realized my body had changed significantly over the night when the tingling of my nipple as it rubbed the cotton sheets woke my senses in an exciting way. I realized I had an opportunity, so I climbed out of bed, only stopping momentarily to admire the svelte brunette in the mirror before I dashed to the shower. I had been in the shower for only about 5 minutes when I heard the door open and in walked Allen, nude as ever.
I turned so that I didn't face him, and continued to explore the new shape of my body. My hands were smaller, and as I cupped each breast in a hand, they filled the hand, seeming large. As the spray hit them, I had to move to avoid sharp pain, but could angle it so that it was intensely pleasurable. Letting my hands move down my body, it was obvious my waist had become more narrow, but my hips were much wider. Running my hand around the contours of my hips my hand found its way to my clit, which excited me, and brought to mind thoughts of the possibilities with the man standing nearby. Were my legs further apart than they used to be? The space between them seemed wider. As my hands found their way around to my backside, I smiled with pleasure. My bottom was round and sensitive and I caressed it a moment before Allen spoke up.
He stood at the toilet peeing while he said he noticed I had slept all day and wondered if I felt better today.
"Oh, I'm fine," I said in a voice that surprised me. It was higher and softer. It was a woman's voice.
"Say that again," he said with interest.
I looked over my shoulder and I could see he was staring at me through the fogged class door. "I'm fine, how're you?" I said, knowing what we both knew.
"Jeremy?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes?"
"Can I come in there with you?"
My pussy felt warm the moment I heard his words. I felt my nipples stiffen, and my breath became short. "Please do," I said.
The door opened, and a muscular naked man stepped into the shower. He stood two feet away from me, staring at my naked female body before a hand reached out and touched one of my nipples. "You're beautiful," he said, and then he stepped up to me, pressing his erection against my belly. He seemed so tall.
I reached around him and caressed his ass for a moment and then said, "Let's go to bed."
Wordlessly we dried off, never taking our eyes off each other. His erection bobbed with each beat of his heart, and I had a hard time drying off the insides of my legs, as my vagina was producing in volume.
He took me to his room by the hand and laid me down on the bed, then stood at the foot of the bed for a moment as if trying to decide what to do first. He smiled a broad smile and then spread my legs wide, lying down with his head in my groin. His tongue moved my labia apart and moved up and down the length of my vagina before resting in the area of my clit, which he tongued lightly and sucked until I came. He sat up and wiped my secretions from his mouth.
"May I?" was all he said as he crawled up next to me, licking my body the entire length and dancing erotic swirls around each nipple with his fingers. I writhed under his touch, tingling everywhere and aching for him.
"Of course" I whispered to him as he got close. He smiled and brought his penis within reach. I touched it and was surprised at how hard it really was. It was incredibly firm, and as I squeezed it in my hand, it pulsed. I jacked it a couple of times, and began pulling it toward my vagina. He reacted with surprise and had to try to get his balance above me, falling on his side and nearly off the bed. We both laughed for a moment, and then, as he positioned himself above my body, he kissed me at the same moment I felt his penis press against my vagina. And then it slid in, further and deeper until his pubic hair was grinding against me. I couldn't believe the whole thing was inside me, and I felt so full of him. He leaned forward and began thrusting, and each time my clit was rubbed I cried out in ecstasy. I hit my orgasm, but it didn't seem to end, lasting for an eternity as I gasped and writhed under him. Then I became aware that he was close -- each thrust became more powerful, sending me to a higher plateau. He started grunting and bucking and then pulled out suddenly leaving me feeling empty, and began spilling semen across my belly and breasts. For a moment, he convulsed above me as I started to come down and then when the last drop seemed to leave him, he collapsed.
We rested for probably fifteen minutes, and when I reached around him, I found that his cock was hard again. "My I?" I asked, to which he responded, "Of course."
I laid him on his back and positioned myself above him so we were in a sixty nine position. His cock was hard as stone again, and I kissed it, licked it, and was rewarded with each touch by a sigh or a moan. Finally I took the whole thing in my mouth, moving my tongue feverishly around the head while I pistoned up and down it's incredible length. I tasted precum mixed with what must have been the taste of my own body, and I was hot and wet as could be. Soon he began grunting, and I found his hands on the cheeks of my ass, pushing me toward the foot of the bed. I crawled forward and he kneeled behind me, entering me doggy style. Again, it felt good to have him inside me.
"You're so soft and your hips are so wide," he panted just moments before I felt him withdraw and dump more semen across my back.
He got up and went straight to the bathroom while I basked in a warmth I'd never known. After a while I heard the shower start up, and decided to join him. I walked in and opened the door to enter, but he said, "Don't!" in a sharp, almost angry tone.
"What's wrong, wasn't that wonderful?"
"I'm wrong. I shouldn't have done this to you."
"What do you mean, I've wanted it for weeks," I protested.
"I turned you into a woman. And you're beautiful and perfect, but I shouldn't have done this."
"What?" I said. "How could you turn me into a woman? I figured it just sortof happened, like some freak medical anomaly."
"Oh, no," he said from within the shower. "It was me." He turned the water off and opened the door. "God, you're beautiful" he said again. "But I used the nanotechnology from Environ -- the microscopic robots -- to turn you into a woman, and I shouldn't have."
I was aghast. Stunned. Here he was, beautiful, naked, wet, the man of my dreams, and I found out he used me as a science experiment. He saw my look.
"You seemed so lost, and then there was that night when we messed around. You seemed so into it and then we both felt so bad afterward. Every moment I spent between when I walked out of your parent's house until I called you was spent deciding what to do. Was I gay? Were you? Could two guys really make it, or should we end the friendship? I couldn't decide. Plus, I realized that I do love you, not just as a friend or brother or something, but as a partner. But I couldn't get past the fact that you were a man.
"And then I got to thinking about the technology I had access to. It had already been used to reprogram the DNA of mice and monkeys, as well as rearrange tissue and whole organs. It was just another step. It could cure cancer, and do all kinds of other things, but it could also transform my best friend into my lover. And so I decided I'd program the robots to reprogram you."
"All this was caused by robots designed to clean up oil spills?" I asked, shocked.
"Oh, yeah. By the time you noticed your hair color changing, you were already genetically female. That's why your eyes and hair changed the way they did -- pigment is one of the easiest things to reprogram, and shows success the quickest... The DNA I selected for you had brown hair and eyes. I needed some sort of visual cue that it was time for the second stage, anyway."
His moral problem seemed to have been forgotten, and was talking about the science, now. "I was very careful not to replace any behavioral coding, with the exception of your sexuality, of course. Even though I still needed you to be the same person, I still wanted to make sure you wouldn't be predisposed to be a lesbian. But the rest of the physical changes would never have really manifested themselves without help, so I gave you a dose of the technology that I programmed to reconstruct tissue.
"You probably don't even remember, but I gave you dosages in soda -- I think the first one was a coke that had lost all its carbonation and the second was a root beer float that was similarly fizz-less. Something about the nanites causes the carbonation to leave quickly, kind of like adding salt.
"Without the second stage dosage, your body might have started producing some estrogen, and you might have developed some secondary sexual characteristics of a woman, but that would have been the end of it. You would have been a sort of androgynous being. We both needed your transformation to be complete. So the second dose was designed to reconstruct and repurpose your body's existing tissues. Primary sexual organs such as the vagina, uterus, and ovaries came first because they're what has to be in place before the body can produce the proper hormones. And without the estrogen your ovaries produce, the nanites wouldn't have known what tissues to reconstruct and how much to get rid of because they were programmed to speed up the processes that would have occurred naturally over time with the presence of estrogen.
"Judging from your behavior, your vagina was complete about two weeks ago, and there were no additional visible changes until yesterday, right?"
"That's about right," I said.
"And you were horny as hell the whole time, right?" he asked.
"Definitely. I think I still am."
He nodded, as though he expected it. "Elevated hormone levels. The nanites had to trigger elevated hormone levels to determine exactly where they should begin work. You'll probably settle down into a normal female libido now that the changes are just about done.
"So I really am a woman?"
"According the standards set my medical science, you should be indistinguishable from a person conceived in the womb as female. We should probably get you a gynecological exam, and start using birth control, assuming you still want to have sex with me." He paused for a moment, looking questioningly at me. Then continued with a smirk, " My personal examination certainly says you look, feel, taste, and react like a normal woman."
"I can have children?" I asked.
"We'll have to wait and see if you menstruate, but you should be able to," he continued. "I hope you're not angry with me... you seemed to be having a great time at about the time your primary sex characteristics were completed, so I figured everything was OK. When did you notice your dick and balls shrinking?" He seemed to be trying ask carefully, but was still curious.
I sighed. "Oh, a month or so ago"
"That was probably just after I administered the second dose. Maybe two weeks. It starts slow and then accelerates, it seems. Were you scared?"
"Oh, initially, yeah" I replied. "Panicky, actually. Imagine noticing that your own cock is shrinking. Especially with you, naked all over the apartment to compare myself to. But once the physical feelings started to change, I wasn't so worried. By the time my pussy was complete, I'd never been hornier in my life. I could hardly keep my fingers out of myself. And then yesterday morning when my breasts began to grow and my hips felt wider, it was almost just a curiosity, not a concern. I was already a woman as far as I was concerned. But the stomach problems, was that part of it?"
"Probably. I'm sorry," he said, obviously sorrowful. "A lot of body mass had to be expelled to change you from a 170lb, 5'11 guy into the beautiful 120lb, 5'6 woman you are now.
"As for my nakedness," he continued, "You know that was for you. I'll stop now if you want. It was just that once I knew you were female, genetically speaking, I figured you'd notice your interest in men developing. And I wanted you to feel comfortable around me and be able to picture me nude because I wanted to be the first place you came when you needed a sexual release with a man. I wanted to be your first."
"Don't apologize about the nudity. From about day one I was enjoying the view. I only wish I'd known why I was getting the show a little bit sooner. I might have come to you," I said.
"I probably would have helped." There was another pause, as if he were considering the implications of what he was about to say. "After the time we messed around when you were male, I know that I don't mind dick, although it's definitely not my preference. At that point we could have gotten off and maybe I could have done you... you know, up the butt... if you'd wanted. I was open to it. But I definitely prefer you the way you are today."
"I definitely liked being with you the way I am today," I assured him.
"It felt good? You're not angry?"
"Yes, it feels good." I replied. "I guess I'm not really angry, but I'm a little hurt. That was really underhanded. Still, it's hard to be angry. I've felt so wonderful with you ever since you 'reprogrammed' me and I do love you."
"Really?" he asked, unsure.
"I think so.... Don't do that again, though. Not unless I ask or you at least have my permission." He smiled and stepped out of the shower, and I stood up to meet his embrace. We hugged, naked, a man and woman, for a moment. Then I let go. "I just have one more question for now.
Can you change me back if I wanted to go?"
He looked at the floor for a moment, and said, "Well, no, not really." Allen's eyes came off the floor and met mine. "I can turn you back into any guy you'd ever want to be, with any kind of body you could want to have, but I screwed up and never got a DNA sample of your original DNA, so you can't go back to being the Jeremy you once were."
"Well, at this point I'm not too concerned about that," I assured him. "And I'm still feeling awfully horny. I think I'll want to keep this body for a while, at least. To have fun with it and see how I like it. And how I like you, of course. You taste and feel amazing, by the way. Do you think you could take the day off work?"