Oops!

Stella Murdoch knew it was going to be one of “those” weekends when she woke on Saturday morning to the realization that her breasts were gone.

Now, a discovery like this would normally be the cause of at least a little bit of hysteria, but the party the night before had been a major blast, and Stella was still more than a bit hazy in the thinking department. So, instead of jumping up and screaming, as she might normally have done, Stella simply laid in bed, her hands exploring the flat area that had, just the night before, housed a pair of firm, medium sized breasts. Absently, she wondered how one might go about reporting such a loss:

“Hello? Lost and Found? Yes, I would like to report the loss of a pair of breasts. Yes, I said breasts. C cup, round, firm shape, large nipples that are usually erect. If found, please return to……”

Smiling at her own thoughts, Stella rose slowly from her bed and moved toward the bathroom. It seemed strange not to feel her breasts swaying with her steps, considering the fact that she always slept in the nude, meaning there was nothing to inhibit such motion. Even stranger was the fact that something was swaying, albeit slightly further down.

Stella froze in her tracks, one hand reaching down to discover a large, erect penis jutting from between her thighs. She glanced down, and immediately corrected her first thought. That was a very large, erect penis, but it was firmly attached to the juncture of her thighs. This discovery, more than the loss of her breasts, drove the fog from her brain, leaving room for wild thoughts and questions. At the moment, however, her main concern was a full set of kidneys, and the need to empty them quickly. She resumed her steps toward the bathroom, moving rather quickly.

Standing in front of the toilet, Stella faced her next dilemma. The toilet was down, but her new penis was pointing in a decidedly upward direction. Choosing the most obvious solution, she grasped the thing firmly and redirected it.

“Ouch!” Obviously, erect penises were not meant to point in any direction but up. Fortunately, the sudden pain led to an equally sudden deflation, quickly allowing her to point it in the right direction. Still, she promised herself to never make that particular mistake again.

After completing that task (and, in the process, learning the truth about the old “shaking it” comments. It turned out that, if you didn’t shake it, the damn thing continued to dribble), Stella moved to the sink, only to pause at the sight of her reflection. Staring back at her was a decidedly handsome face. A male face, complete with a light stubble of facial hair. After a moment of silent staring, she thought to examine the rest of her body, which turned out to be equally male in appearance, with well muscled arms and legs, broad shoulders, trim waist, and (at least to her eyes) an incredibly tight ass.

Shouldn’t this be bothering me a bit more than it is? she asked herself, continuing to stare at her reflection. Shouldn’t I be freaking out about now? True, she was surprised, even moderately shocked, but that seemed to be the extent of her response to this new body she found herself in. Shrugging the thought away, she returned to her room.

“Now,” she said out loud, surprised again at the deep baritone sound of her voice, “what am I going to wear?” It was a given that none of her clothing would fit this new body, but maybe she had something that would work. Doubtfully, she opened her underwear drawer, only to see stacks of neatly folded boxer shorts instead of the assortment of bras and panties she was used to seeing. Puzzled, she drew on a pair of the boxers, then checked the rest of the drawers, finding each one stocked with male clothing. Her closet, too, now held men’s clothes. Puzzled, she drew on a pair of jeans and a light shirt, then wandered into the living room, wondering what else had changed.

As it turned out, nearly everything. Her entire house, which had previously been decorated in a decidedly feminine style, now seemed to reflect her new masculinity. Even the contents of her refrigerator had changed, sporting large packages of red meat, while cans of beer had replaced her bottles of wine.

Somehow, it came as no surprise to discover that she now liked a breakfast of bacon and scrambled eggs, instead of her usual poached egg and dry toast. Finished eating, she placed her dishes in the sink, then moved back to the living room, examining the (male) magazines and (male) books lining her bookshelf. Finally, she settled herself in front of her computer (almost managing to ignore the naked woman now serving as her wallpaper) and began researching her situation.

After several hours of searching the internet, broken only by a trip to the bathroom (during which she learned the hard way that, for a man, simply dropping onto the toilet seat can have painful consequences), she pushed herself away from the computer, having learned exactly nothing of any use. Sure, there were several stories about women becoming men overnight, but they were all fictional. For all her searching, she had found no factual information about how such a thing might be possible.

Finally, feeling more than a bit disgusted, she gave up. What she needed, she thought, was something to take her mind off her new situation. Maybe then a solution would present itself to her. After all, wasn’t the best way to find something to look for something else? Slipping into a pair of shoes, she looked for her purse, only to find a wallet on the table by her door, instead. Looking inside, she found a driver’s license with a picture of her new face displayed. “Stanley Murdoch” was printed beside the picture. The credit cards and other identification also bore the new name. Stella pushed the wallet into her back pocket, her mind adding these new changes to the list.

Her car, at least, hadn’t changed, and she smiled at the old Chevy with a fondness she’d never felt before. She coaxed the motor into operation, then set out for her favorite meal stop, a burger place just down the road.

“Hey, Stan,” she heard as she walked in. Glancing up, she saw Brenda, the waitress, smiling at her. “Your usual?”

More than ready for something normal, Stella nodded, settling herself into an empty booth. Moments later, Brenda appeared, but not with the salad Stella expected. Stella stared at the bacon double cheeseburger and cheese fries Brenda placed in front of her, along with a large soda. She couldn’t eat that! Although, part of her conceded, it did smell good. Well, maybe just a taste.

“Guess you were hungry.” Glancing at her empty plate, Stella had to agree with Brenda. The burger hadn’t been good. It had been delicious. And the fries and soda had gone down equally well.

“Anything else?” Glancing up at Brenda, who now leaned over the table, Stella’s eyes froze at the sight of the abundant cleavage the waitress showed in her current position. Forcing her eyes upward, she saw the grin on Brenda’s face, realizing the display had been purely intentional.

“Like what you see?” Brenda’s grin widened. “Well, when you get tired of looking, let me know. Maybe you could do more than just look one of these times.”

Stella’s eyes widened slightly at the thought of touching what she’d just been staring at. The thought was appealing, and she could feel her new penis begin to harden at the idea. Unfortunately, the damn thing was pointed down her leg, forcing a hasty (and hopefully discrete) adjustment for the sake of comfort. At Brenda’s wink, she realized she hadn’t been nearly as discrete as she’d hoped. Quickly, she paid for her food and escaped back to her car.

I need a drink, she thought, steering toward her favorite club. Inside, she saw the familiar faces. She knew everyone here, and they evidently still knew her. As Stanley, not Stella. Her usual wine was now a beer, and she settled into a quiet booth, having decided to only drink a couple, then head home.

“Hey, stud, how’s it hanging?” Recognizing the voice, Stella turned her head as Becky slid into the booth beside her, sliding around until her thigh was pressed against Stella’s. “Buy me one?” Without waiting for a reply, Becky signaled to the waitress, who quickly set a mixed drink on the table. Becky took a long drink, then grabbed Stella’s hand and pulled her out of the booth.

“Let’s dance.” Before Stella could find the words to decline, she found herself in the middle of the dance floor, Becky’s arms wrapped around her neck as the other woman pressed herself against Stella. Slowly, deliberately, Becky ground herself against Stella, until, much to her surprise, Stella felt herself getting hard. Feeling the growing bulge, Becky grinned.

“Looks like someone is in the mood tonight,” she said, pulling Stella from the floor. “Let’s go find someplace to bury that bone.”

Startled by Becky’s actions, Stella allowed herself to be led into a storage room at the back of the club. Once inside, Becky pushed her against a stack of boxes.

“Let’s see what you have hidden in there,” she said naughtily, unzipping Stella’s jeans and slipping her hand inside. Deftly, she slid her fingers under Stella’s boxers, wrapping them around her now completely erect penis. “Very nice,” she murmured. Slowly, she pumped her hand once, twice…..

And suddenly, Stella’s penis began pulsing. Surprised, Becky snatched her hand back.

“You didn’t just….. Tell me you didn’t…..” Her boxers now filled with a sticky mess, Stella could only nod sheepishly. “I don’t believe this,” Becky groused. “I’ve been trying to get hold of that thing for months, and you let go before I can even get it out of your pants? I can’t believe you!” Angrily, Becky stormed from the room.

For herself, Stella was just as happy to see her go. Quietly, she slipped from the club and drove home. Once inside, she stripped and stepped into the shower, setting the water as hot as she could stand it.

As she stood beneath the spray, Stella glance down at her still flaccid penis. “I’m not sure,” she said thoughtfully, “if I hate you or love you for that.” Carefully, she washed herself, finally emerging from the shower to hear her doorbell ringing. Quickly, she threw on a robe and went to see who it was.

“Brenda?”

“Hey Stan,” the waitress replied. “Mind if I come in?” Shaking her head, Stella stepped back, allowing the other woman to enter. “Thanks,” Brenda said, settling onto the couch.

“What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Brenda replied, “you seemed kind of out of it earlier. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m fine, I think,” Stella replied. “But I haven’t quite been myself today.” Inwardly, Stella grinned at the understatement.

“Are you sure?” Rising, Brenda moved to stand in front of Stella, gazing at her with concerned eyes. “Stan, you know I’ve always cared about you. I know you’re not ready for us to go beyond friendship, but I do worry about you.”

Looking at Brenda, Stella suddenly realized that, in the other woman’s mind, she was and always had been Stanley. For Brenda, Stella didn’t exist, and never had. Once again, she had to wonder exactly how far these changes went, even as she looked at the beautiful face gazing back at her.

And Brenda was beautiful, she realized. She was also intelligent, funny, easy to be around. All in all, Stella thought, Brenda was exactly the kind of woman she’d want to have, if she were a man. Even as the thought entered her mind, a second one crowded in: I am a man, at least I am now.

“Brenda, I….” Stella’s words were cut off as the other woman suddenly leaned forward, pressing her lips to Stella’s stunned mouth. For a second, she thought about pulling away, but her body had its own agenda, returning the kiss with a gentleness that surprised her. Shocked by her reaction, Stella offered no resistance as Brenda slipped the robe from her body, allowing it to fall to the floor before stepping back and quickly removing her own clothing.

“Stan,” she said, her voice quivering slightly, “you know I love you. I always have. And I want you to love me. I’ll be in your bed if you want me.” Without giving the stunned Stella a chance to reply, she turned and slipped from the room.

“Great,” Stella whispered. “What do I do now?”

“Good question.” At the sound of the strange voice, Stella turned to see an older man standing near the front door. “If I were you,” the man said, “I’d take what she’s offering. Unless, of course, you have a problem with a lifetime commitment, because that’s what she’s offering.”

“Who are you,” Stella asked, “and how did you get in here?”

“Oh, my apologies,” the man replied. “Albert Buckingham, Second Level Wizard, at your service, Miss Murdock.”

“Miss? You know who I really am?”

“Unfortunately,” the man said slowly, “I do. I’m afraid you were the recipient of a badly aimed spell.”

“A spell?” For some reason, this answer didn’t seem too hard to believe. Of course, she’d already spent a whole day as a man, so anything was possible, she decided.

“A badly aimed spell,” the man repeated.

“Well, aim it back where it belongs,” Stella demanded. “Change me back to what I was before.”

The man frowned. “I’m afraid that, once a spell like this is cast, only a wizard more powerful than the caster can reverse it.”

“So get someone more powerful. Did you do this?”

“I’m afraid not. And I’m also afraid the spell was cast by the leader of our order. There is nobody more powerful.”

“But why?”

The man looked slightly sheepish. “I’m afraid he was a bit tipsy at the time. You see, he was celebrating his birthday. It’s not every day someone turns nine hundred years old.” The man shook his head. “Actually,” he went on in a conspiratorial tone, “the old man isn’t quite what he used to be. Getting senile, you know. Still, there’s nobody more powerful, so he’s still the leader.”

“In other words,” Stella said, “I’m stuck this way, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

“Well,” the man admitted, “that’s actually why I’m here. True, I can’t change you back. And Bertram, our leader, can’t remember exactly how he changed you, and he can’t reverse the spell unless he remembers exactly how he cast it. Wouldn’t want to turn you into a frog or something, right?” When Stella failed to laugh at his bad joke, the man grew serious again.

“Look,” he said, “I’m afraid you are stuck, as you say. The only thing I can do is make a few minor changes to make your new life easier. Is there anything I can help with in that regard?”

Before Stella could answer, Brenda’s voice drifted in from the bedroom. “Stan? Are you coming to bed? Please say you want me as much as I want you.”

For a moment, Stella stared at the man in front of her. Then, as if reaching an important decision, she nodded. “There is one thing you can do for me,” she said.

“Name it.”

“Fix it so I don’t have such a hair trigger.”

The man grinned. “Absolutely. After all, this isn’t Becky you’re dealing with.” Before Stella could ask how he knew, the man made a gesture with his hands. “There,” he said, “all done. Now, not only will you last longer, but you will never orgasm before she does.” The grin widened. “That way, you’ll both be satisfied every time. Now, go enjoy yourself.” With a nod, the man vanished.

“Tomorrow morning,” Stella told herself as she turned toward the bedroom, “I’ll wake up in my own body, and this will all be a dream.”

o0o

“Congratulations.”

With infinite grace, Brenda overlooked the envious tone in Becky’s voice. “Thank you. And thank you for being here. It means a lot. I’m glad you could come.”

“And I hope you get to,” Becky shot back, “but with Quickshot there, I doubt it.”

Brenda grinned. “I don’t. Why do you think we’re getting a place in the country? The neighbors where we live now are always complaining about how he makes me scream.”

Turning away from Becky’s stunned look, Brenda, looking absolutely stunning in her wedding dress, took hold of her groom’s hand. “Shall we, my love?”

“Absolutely.” Smiling, Stanley Murdoch led his bride from the church. As they climbed into the rented limo to begin their honeymoon, Stan couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if he had remained Stella. As it was, looking at his beautiful, devoted wife, he somehow knew they would be together and happy for the rest of their lives. As Stella, the prospects hadn’t been nearly as bright.

All in all, he decided, holding his bride close, it was the best mistake he could ever ask for.

01.07.12