A Weekend Away

A Weekend Away: Part 1

I hand my wife one of the helmets. She looks at it, turning it over, careful not to tangle the cables.

“It looks like some sort of steampunk viking helmet.”

“Yeah, I know it’s not much to look at, but it should work.”

“Should?” She arches a thin eyebrow.

“I won’t know for sure until it works.”

The helmet my wife held was connected by some thick cables to several computers. I held a second helmet, identical to my wife’s and also plugged into the same machine. I had rigged the whole system together over the course of several years. When activated the helmets would allow a full memory transfer between the two people connected to it. Essentially it was a body swap machine.

“You’re not scared?” I look into her big, brown eyes. “We don’t have to try it.”

“No, I want to. I want to know what’s it like.”

The weekend was clear. We’d told everyone we were going on vacation. If the machine worked we’d have a few days to explore each other’s bodies before I had to go back to work on Monday.

I lean down and kiss her on the lips. She smiles up at me, absentmindedly brushing back some strands of her long, dark hair. I put on my helmet and she puts on hers, then we lie down on the bed and I activate the machine.

“How long should it take?” Her slim, smooth fingers wrap around my rough hand.

“All night. The hard part will be trying to sleep in these things.”

That’s the last thing I remember.

Dawn. I slowly wake, rub my eyes. Everything is the same but feels different somehow. I hold my hands up in front of me. Skinny, soft fingers tapering to short, glossy nails. My wife’s hands. I wiggle them, feeling how they move. I turn them over and over, examining them. Looking at the little mole, touching the lovely little blemishes that are now mine. These hands, Meghan’s hands, my hands now, are so much smaller than my old. As I wake I become aware of how different the rest of my body feels. The sheets feel rougher, like my sensitivity has been heightened. I look down at the large, grey t-shirt my wife uses as a nightshirt. Underneath I can see and feel Meghan’s two large breasts. I’m curious, yet apprehensive as I remove my helmet and put it on the nightstand.

Slowly, I pull the t-shirt down, revealing the breasts I remember squeezing, suckling, enjoying. Beautiful from this angle, even with the occasional stretch mark. Real breasts. They don’t fit in my tiny hands but I try anyway. I squeeze them and it feels like, well, like my breasts are being squeezed. There’s no sexual pleasure like I had expected from the crappy erotica floating around the internet. Everything is too new. Too different. I’m Meghan, I think to myself. I’m in her body. The thought terrifies and electrifies me.

I shift position, bringing my legs up. My new butt feels bigger, not like my old body with it’s skinny haunches. Meghan’s butt has perfect padding. Squeezable. Pinchable. She knew she could turn me on by sticking out her ass. My hand travels down my legs, skinnier and smooth, then back up towards the biggest change. I keep my legs closed tightly but my eyes and my hand are drawn to the sweet nexus between my thighs.

Cautiously I bring my wife’s hand over my smooth vagina. I stroke the outside, exploring with my fingers. I dip a finger inside not out of arousal, but simple curiosity. A baritone voice makes me jump.

“I guess it worked.” I look over at myself. My former male body. It’s not like looking in a mirror at all. A mirror only reflects a single angle, from straight on. I look at my previous handsomely boyish face from an angle I’d never seen before as he removed his helmet. It is weird watching your body move when you’re not in it. I look down at the arms, that seem so thick and muscly now compared to mine. Down the chest to the…

“I woke up like this.” He mumbles, his face going red as he tries to cover his erection.

“I’ve seen it before, remember?” My voice is higher than I remember hearing, strange in the way that hearing your own voice on a video is strange, the result of hearing it from inside Meghan’s head. I move his hands away, and snuggle into his body, my hair tickling my neck as I lie against his chest. I have to adjust my boobs so I don’t lie on them but I manage.

I run my hands down his stomach and stick my hand into his pants to pull out his cock. It looks enormous in my small hand. I lightly stroke it, remembering how Meghan used to play with my cock. How she used to wrap her lips around the shaft, bobbing up and down, hair tied up in a ponytail so I could watch her sweet profile. Feel her smooth lips and her tongue on my dick. Giving me a blow job always made her so wet. But the lips that had been wrapped around my cock were mine now. I licked them, nervously. Meghan’s body was responding to the cock I held in her hand but I wasn’t sure I was ready.

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