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“Winston, he finally finished it!” Shelley exclaims as she sprints into my home office, holding up the case as a declaration of victory. Her typically on-point skirt and blouse are disheveled, and her ponytail is coming apart at the seams. I look up from my computer to see her breathing hard, face flush. Even from the opposite end of the house, I heard her car door slam shut, the hectic jangle of keys in the front door’s lock, and the pounding of her footsteps on the hardwood floors and up the stairs to make it back here. She smiles wide, eyes alight like she’s told me she won the lottery. “Nice!” I reply, closing my laptop and getting up from my office chair. The perks of working freelance means setting my own schedule and blocking off time for events like this, even if it falls at one in the afternoon. “What’s he got for us this time?” The lynx sets the case on my desk, in between stacks of papers, and slowly, almost reverently, opens it to reveal two vials of glowing liquid packed tightly for transport. “He kept apologizing for the delay,” she exclaims through heavy breaths. “I kept [i]saying[/i] I know his day job comes first, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. [i]A promise is a promise, and I should have given you this weeks ago as much as you enjoyed my last potion[/i],” she says in a mock low, stately voice, running her fingers through a long, invisible beard. “But it’s finally here!” Shelley’s uncle is a wizard. Yes, I know that is a bizarre statement to make in 2026 when the Internet, space travel, and global supply chains are a thing, but it’s true. And he’s not some stage performer doing magic tricks for birthday parties or a stoner dropping acid and hallucinating or anything like that, but a real, bona fide practitioner of the arcane arts. Has the beard, the robe, the staff, and everything, too. Says it’s what people expect, so he obliges. I met him a few months after I started dating Shelley, when she began introducing me to her family. The rest of them? Realtors. Engineers. Accountants. Stay-at-home moms. Except for Frank. Frank the Wizard. He makes a living contracting out for governments, handling mystical threats that the military and intelligence agencies aren’t equipped to deal with. Even wonder why you don’t hear about portals from the underworld unleashing hordes of demons on the midtown thoroughfare or war between the dragons and elves making life hell for the rest of us? Well, Frank is partially to thank for that. In addition to making every family get-together way more interesting, Frank loves being the cool uncle to Shelley, as his sister was the only one of he and his siblings to have kids. While he charges big bucks for his magical work, she gets it free of charge. Ahead of my proposal, Frank gave me a potion letting us fly for a few hours. You best believe soaring over a mountain range at sunset, hand in hand, wind whipping through our hair, was the most incredible, romantic moment of my life. Perfect for a proposal, which went swimmingly. Frank got a nice Christmas gift that year. And so, a few times a year, Frank gives Shelley a new potion to try out, the results always incredible. “What does this one do?” I ask again. “He said a while back he was working on one for breathing underwater, right?” Shelley shrugs and pouts. “Apparently the Canadian government bought the exclusive use of that one for aquatic warfare, he said. Sucks, but he wasn’t about to fight them on that front.” Her face lights up again. “But this could be even better!” She picks up one of the vials, glowing liquid sloshing within. “Drink one and [i]bam![/i] instant sex change!” My jaw drops and it takes me a moment to process. “Wait. So you mean, if you drink that you’ll turn into a guy and if I drink it I turn into a girl?” “Exactly!” I loosen my tie, the room suddenly growing hot despite the AC unit working overtime. I choose to dress up while working freelance, despite video calls being a rare occurrence and customer visits nonexistent; it just feels more professional when working from home, I suppose. My khaki pants and button-down shirt feel oppressive, especially on top of a layer of bobcat fur. Catching my reaction, Shelley frowns then quickly offers a light chuckle. “It’s not permanent, if you’re worried about that. A few hours tops, then back to normal.” “No, just the, uh, heat I guess. And maybe a bit confused, too? Why would he make something like that, out of everything possible with magic?” She shrugs. “Why not? Come on, it’ll be fun! Tell me you’ve never wondered what it’s like on the other side.” I bite my tongue. There’s no way Frank could know, right? Can wizards read minds? No, that’s silly. He’s never let on that he- ...I left those thoughts behind years ago. It was painful, sure, but accepting those thoughts would surely have been even more painful. I’ve built a life now, with Shelley. No going back now. I squeeze her hand and force a smile. “No, you’re right. This just surprised me, is all. Let’s do it,” I say, with more enthusiasm than I feel. She hops in place then returns the vial to the case, stuffing it under her arm. “Great! Meet me in the bedroom.” In a flash, she’s out the door and running down the hallway. I smile at her reaction. She’s like this with all of Frank’s potions, experiencing the same joy and thrill at each novel situation. I get up slowly, staring at my frames on the wall, mementos of an established life: certifications, awards, photos from professional events. I enter the hall, walking by the framed photos from our wedding day, me in my trim black tux and Shelley in an exquisite backless wedding dress. More framed photos, from our honeymoon getaway in the mountains, a snapshot from one of our first dates, our hand-written vows exchanged on our wedding day. It suddenly feels so precarious. I enter the bedroom and Shelley is already nude, sitting on the corner of the bed. She holds a vial in her hands, grinning wide. “Come on, slowpoke! You usually aren’t like this with one of Frank’s potions. Clothes off, handsome.” I chuckle as I comply, glad to be free of the business casual clothing I toss into a pile in the corner. I join Shelley on the bed, where she hands me the other vial. “I know we usually take these at the same time, but can I go first?” she asks. “I just- Since we’re getting different results, I really want to take it all in individually. Then, after that, who knows?” I can hardly say otherwise and have no intention to do so, gesturing for Shelley to go ahead. She squeals, unscrews the vial, and downs the slurry of glowing liquid in a single gulp. Sitting back, she licks her lips and hums in approval. “Yummy. It tastes like apple cinnamon.” She gets up and paces the floor, checking over every inch of her body. “Has it started yet? Do I look any different?” The changes start subtly at first. Shelley’s rounded jaw becomes more squared, her facial features becoming harsher and more severe. Her shoulders broaden, her lightly-muscled arms gaining more definition. She runs a finger over a protruding Adam’s apple with one hand, feels along the back of her neck with the other hand as her long, flowing hair slowly retracts as though being reeled into her head, stopping at the length of a short buzz. Her limbs lengthen, and she adds easily five to six inches in height. She arches a thickening brow as her breasts shrink, decreasing in cup size by the second until her chest is a straight line. Her lower body looks as though air is being leaked from a balloon as the fat deposits around her hips, rear, and thighs lessen, becoming angular and boxy instead. Between her legs, her labial folds come together as though they are being zipped up from bottom to top, becoming thicker and rounder and heavier until they dangle as a pair of testicles. Her clitoris peeks from its hood, growing thicker, rounder, and longer until it rests against her distended balls, excess skin forming a defined head and foreskin. A man who is my wife stands before me. Shelley stares down at her transformed self, eyes wide, patting her chest and running her hands along her well-muscled arms. I am awestruck at the sight of my best friend and the love of my life standing before me, completely transformed. She is still definably Shelley in so many little ways: the automatic way she reaches to move a strand of hair no longer there behind her ear, her piercing brown eyes I could stare into forever, the mole on her cheek that sits right in her dimple when she smiles. But it’s like a switch has been flipped, as though I am staring at a man who could be her long-lost twin. “Babe?” I ask. “You okay?” She looks up at me and breaks into a wide grin. “Okay? This is amazing!” she replies in a deep, resonant voice. Her breath catches and she touches her throat. “Whoa. Listen to [i]that[/i].” She sings a note that goes lower and lower until she is well within the bass range, hand on her chest all the while. “Damn, it’s like I’ve got a sub woofer in my chest. Is that how it feels all the time? Just talking?” Before I can answer, she strides forward then stops suddenly, staring at the new genitals residing between her legs. Making a face, she widens her stance and takes long, labored steps toward the bed, walking as though a barrier resides in the way and not a piece of her anatomy. I laugh and say, “They’re not gonna hurt you, Shell.” “I know that. It’s just [i]weird[/i] having them there. They’re so… in the way!” I snap my fingers, remembering something. “Hey, try this: you see that loose skin on your balls? Lightly pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, then roll it between your fingers.” She looks at me suspiciously. “You’re not tricking me, are you? I don’t know, they look so delicate and squishy.” “I promise it won’t hurt. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Tentatively, she reaches down toward her balls as though she is about to touch a wild animal and pinches her loose skin. Rolling her fingers in a counter-clockwise gesture, she sags, a broad smile growing on her face. “Wow, that hits the spot. Like scratching an itch.” “See, I told you!” A devilish grin grows on Shelley’s face and she enters a wide stance, gyrating her hips and bending at the knees to make her new penis spin around like a helicopter blade, balls bouncing below. She laughs deep and hard, slowly stopping and resting her hands on her slim abdomen until she has to pause to catch her breath. I join in, laughing until I feel lightheaded. “I’ve, heh, I wondered what that was like. Oh, wait! I should pee with this thing!” She runs to the bathroom in a halting shuffle step while I wipe away the tears of laughter with the back of my hand, breathing returning to normal. An exclamation of triumph accompanies liquid hitting porcelain. I stare down at the vial in my hand, warming up to the experience. I can do this. A few hours of lighthearted fun in a role reversal with Shelley then I can put those thoughts behind me for good. On to the next magic potion without looking back. Right? “I got, uh, well, [i]most[/i] of it made it in the bowl,” Shelley says as she returns to the bedroom, walking more normally. “Your turn now!” She continues in a low, rumbling voice, flexing like a bodybuilder. “Come on, this beefcake needs a babe.” She doesn’t keep up the affectation for long, laughing yet again in a voice I know all too well despite its lowered pitch. I unscrew the lid and swirl the contents within the vial, heart beating fast. Shelley is taking the transformation perfectly in stride, seemingly treating it like just another adventure with a magic potion, a bit of fun before returning to normal. I can do the same, right? While flying was fun, I’m still perfectly content to remain earthbound most of the time. Experiencing something doesn’t make it… I push those thoughts away, raise the vial to my lips, and drink. Sweet, tangy liquid dances over my taste buds and down my throat. The taste lingers, as bubbly as a carbonated beverage. At my side, Shelley stares at me with a wide grin on her face, eyes expectant. “If it’s anything like mine, you’re going to love it!” she exclaims. The liquid hits my gut and a warm, tingly sensation spreads outward through my body. A world of activity is happening under my fur, and it almost feels as though I can sense the blood flowing through me, the air coursing through my lungs, the totality of the processes of my body at work. Something shifts within me, altering my inner workings like an update patch of code. My fur, thick and coarse my entire life, grows finer and softer, smooth to the touch as I run a hand over my arm. I gasp as I glance at my hands, watching as my thick, often ungainly fingers narrow and lengthen, the fur there growing extra soft. In stark contrast to Shelley’s transformation, my toned, muscled arms lose much of their definition, noticeably slimming. My ears are tickled as my short crop of hair experiences years of growth in seconds, cascading down the back of my head and over my shoulders to stop at the small of my back. I grab handfuls of hair to brush it out of my eyes as it impedes my vision in a blonde veil. Some hair travels down my front and stops to drape across my chest. I feel overwhelmed. It’s never been longer than a buzz my entire life, yet I can now pinch a strand between thumb and forefinger and run it from root to tip. I look down at the hair covering my chest and watch as the hair slowly rises, something beneath slowly propelling it upward. Moving my strands aside, I gasp at the sight of my nipples protruding out of my fur, thicker and rounder than before. They sit atop two ballooning lumps of flesh, weighty fat that fills my cupped palms and sags against my chest in twin teardrops. Vision partially obscured by my hair and newfound breasts, I stare down to my lower body where even more changes are taking place. I am so used to seeing my body as essentially a straight line from underarms to my feet, a tall rectangle essentially, but that is no longer the case. I suddenly have hips, gentle swelling curves of plush flesh below my narrowing waist. My legs, toned and lean, accumulate fat which swells my thighs into rounder, trunk-like limbs. Between my legs, my penis looks as though I have just stepped out of the pool, a minute appendage dangling close to my body, shrinking by the second. It grows smaller and smaller, from the size of my thumb to the size of my pinkie to little more than the head of a pin. My balls retract closer to my body, pressing against my groin, and I grow lightheaded and gasp as the seam between my testicles splits into a tall, thin opening. The hole grows in size, the surrounding testicles morphing into labia. In moments, my manhood is gone, transformed into a womanhood of my own. The tingling sensation coursing throughout my body fizzles out, and the transformation is complete. I stare down at myself, at a body which is mine but not mine, all traces of the masculine wiped away and replaced with the feminine. I blink rapidly, my eyes seemingly unable to focus and accept that the body so different from mine is still me. My chest rises and falls with my breath. I move my arms, these new limbs responding to my commands. Is this body truly [i]mine[/i]? “Oh my god, look at you!” Shelley says at my side. “You’re so… [i]cute[/i]! How does it feel?” I look to the side and down by instinct, expecting to meet her eyes, only to instead find her midsection. I crane up to meet her gaze. In addition to my complete bodily change, it seems I’ve also shrunk. “I feel- oh!” The voice coming from my throat makes me stop mid-sentence. It is unfamiliar, as though I were a puppet and someone else were speaking through me. It is a woman’s voice. [i]My voice[/i]. I stumble to the bathroom, Shelley’s words turning to muffled background noise as my heart races. What do I look like? I have to know. The cold, tiled floor is a reprieve to my overheating body, each padded step bringing me closer to answers. Reaching the bathroom counter, I grip the edge. The sink and its lump of toothpaste near the drain are closer than before. I breathe hard, not knowing what I’m afraid to see in the mirror’s reflection. Slowly, my gaze creeps upward and I meet my eyes. A woman stares back at me, befuddled, jaw dropped. My eyes are the same rich blue as before and the same scar is present across my left eyebrow from a camping mishap as a child. The same acne scars on my cheeks are visible through my lightened fur, a background noise I hardly even notice these days. I know those details are part of me, but it’s like my brain is short-circuiting to try to understand seeing them on another, more feminine face. I move my head back and forth, and my reflection follows. I blink and she does the same. [i]She.[/i] That word encapsulates the person standing in front of me and, if my movements are her movements, does that make me ‘[i]she[/i]’ too? My heart flutters. That thought is a salve to my soul, a drink of water in a desert when I’d never realized how deadly thirsty I was before. Or, well, I [i]did[/i] realize, years ago, until I’d tried to convince myself otherwise, and the ache became a low-level hum rather than a pounding pain. But now, seeing her, seeing [i]me[/i], it all comes rushing back. The twinge of envy at seeing my female classmates in school. The dread turned to dull acceptance as my body changed from a generic child-shaped thing into a man. The thoughts of what life might be like otherwise. The follow-up thoughts of what my family and friends might think. The spiraling thoughts of being rejected as a joke at best or a devious threat at worst. The prevailing shame of being too scared to try in the first place when so many others have thrived. Then, finally, living in my man-shaped body and watching the years slip away, further and further away from who I imagined I could be. I can’t stop the tears that follow. I bury my face in my hands as my body is wracked with deep, aching sobs, tears and mucus spilling through my fingers. I wail and feel immensely embarrassed and want to hide in a hole in the ground rather than let Shelley see me like this. I never cry, not like this. Arms wrap around my shoulders and a chin rests atop my head. “Winston, honey, it’s okay. I’m here.” It’s Shelley, her voice deep and serious and reassuring, as though the act of speaking it will make it so. I lean into her embrace, my body weak. She murmurs more words of affirmation as we start to sway together. I try to speak a few times, to explain myself, but my words are immediately overwhelmed by choking sobs. She holds me tightly, her tall body warm and strong. My chest aches from crying and my sinuses throb with inflammation, but in time I stop crying, enough to start wiping away the tears. “I’m sorry, I just…” My voice is rough and mucus-filled, and the words die in my throat. “Hey, it’s okay,” Shelley replies. “[i]I[/i] should be sorry, for springing this on you like this. I… All of these potions, all the magic, it’s supposed to be fun, right? Not make either of us upset or uncomfortable. I… I didn’t know doing this would hurt you so much. But I think I understand. A person’s body is such a big part of who they are, and having it changed can be distressing.” She sighs. “In a few hours we’ll be back to normal. Maybe we could put on a movie or something, take your mind off your body until we change back.” I stare at her reflection in the mirror, at a loss for words. She thinks I’m upset about losing my manhood, not what I actually cried about. I want to tell her, to wipe the tears away and smile wide and tell her she’s wrong, that this is who I always dreamed I would be, comfortable for the first time in my life. But a new twinge of fear churns in my stomach. How would she react if she knew the truth? Explode at me for keeping something so intimate from her, for ‘deceiving’ her? Mock me? Look at me with revulsion? She is the best part of my life, the best person in my life. She’s so kind and thoughtful and accepting in so many ways; will that extend to this new revelation? “No, babe, it’s not that,” I reply, my new voice exactly what I ever wanted it to be. “Please don’t feel bad. I-I’m enjoying this, really. It’s just, wow, it’s a lot to take in all at once.” She smiles, spirits lifted, and hugs me tightly. “Must be all those girly hormones getting to you,” she says in a mock gruff voice. Tone lightening, she runs a hand lightly through my hair and continues, “I love you, Winston. For what it’s worth, and I hope this doesn’t make you feel bad, but you look really pretty as a girl.” My legs go weak and I lean against the bathroom counter. That word, about me, feels impossible. I give her hand a squeeze. “And you turned into one hell of a stud, Shell,” I reply. We both laugh and the mood is lightened considerably, memory of my tears already fading. “What should we do now?” I ask. “You’re clearly the most excited about this.” She strokes her chin and hums, then snaps her fingers. “I think we’re roughly the same height. I mean, to you and me before. Let’s dress up sharp, each of us in the other’s clothes! Get that full experience, you know.” My heart leaps and I try not to smile too wide or answer too quickly. “Yeah, that’d be fun! As stylish as you are, I’m definitely going to win.” Shelley laughs and crosses her arms. “Oh, you think I can’t look sexy in your outfits?” Turning around, she slaps her rear and asks, “Those slacks that make your ass look [i]so[/i] tight are clean, aren’t they? Too late, I’ll even dig them out of the hamper. You know how to dress to drive a girl crazy. Alright, five minutes in each other’s closets, then we decide the winner! Go!” She storms past me out of the bathroom and into my walk-in closet, rummaging through my modest assortment of clothing in moments. I soon follow, jogging to the other end of the bedroom into her own closet. I flip on the light and am greeted by a cornucopia of clothing, a veritable treasure trove of feminine fashion. I run my fingers through the clothes hanging on the hangers, an ensemble of blouses of a rainbow of colors that are so soft to the touch. I blink back the tears already forming. Clothing is such an important part of self expression, more than just a way to keep warm and more like a reflection of the soul. For years, my gaze has lingered on the women walking by, never out of lust or cheating on Shelley, mind you, but in appreciation for something I could never have, never do, for clothing that would never look right on a body like mine. The swaying of a skirt in the breeze, the coordination of accessories, head wear, and makeup to make a statement and complete an outfit, it looked like battle armor going into war, an extension of the self. And now, all the tools stand before me, waiting to be equipped. First off, aware of my nudity, I open a drawer and slip on a pair of panties, lacy and smooth against my body, reserved for special occasions. I grab a matching bra and slowly put it on, puzzling over the clasp in the back. I’ve helped Shelley remove one before out intimate time together more times than I can count, but never from this angle and never on myself. After fiddling with it a few times, I finally succeed. Shelley’s walk-in closet is big enough to house a body-length mirror, and I slowly step into view. The clothing is unfamiliar, novel against my body, and my reflection shows a not entirely comfortable woman, albeit one with a thin smile on her face. As unfamiliar as it feels on my body, it’s just the beginning toward the journey I always wanted. It feels akin to the foundation of a building, to the unseen concrete and steel giving a structure its skeleton and strength to stand. I move to the rest of Shelley’s clothing, trying to wrap my head around all the possible combinations to work with. As much as I wish I could spend hours trying everything on, time is running short. I spy her rack of dresses, where a blue, floral-patterned sundress draws my attention. The coloring is as rich as a tropical ocean, the patterns like flora floating along its surface. I feel relaxed just looking at it and, best of all, it matches my eyes. Removing the dress from its hanger, I lift it over my head and wiggle it over my body, checking to make sure it isn’t too tight or too loose in its fit. It bunches up at the back and I work my tail through the hole, watching the skirt fall into place. With a growing smile, I I run my fingers over its soft surface, delighting in the way it hugs my body, like that of a new friend. It falls to just above my knees, a unique delightful sensation to someone entirely used to pants. There’s enough space in the closet for it and I don’t feel self-conscious, alone in my self discovery: I twirl in circles, pirouetting and watching with glee as the bottom of the dress lifts upward and twirls with me like a silent partner. Air rushes between my legs, a soft, cooling sensation. I nearly stumble over my feet and make myself stop, watching as the dress spins and falls back into place. I look in the mirror again, greeted by my familiar stranger. She looks happy, confident, in a way I have never truly felt before, living a life so full and vivacious that can hardly be compared to my own, like something out of a movie. My hair is stuck inside the neck of the sundress, so I place my hands behind my head and softly free it, watching as it drapes so nicely across my shoulders. “Two minutes!” Shelley calls out, her voice muffled by the walls between us. I jump. Has so much time truly passed already? I glance around quickly for Shelley’s jewelry case, finding it nestled in the corner. Inside is a rainbow of personal adornments and accessories, and more than I can count or sift through in the time remaining. My eyes fall on a turquoise necklace, which I hastily put on. It drapes nicely on my chest, close enough in color to my eyes and the dress. I spot her bows, which look [i]so[/i] cute, but there’s no time and, besides, tying knots was my worst skill in scouting growing up. Giving my outfit one last look over, I exit. My body tingles as I literally step out of the closet, chuckling at the symbolism. Shelley is already back in the bedroom, leaning against the wall. I gasp at the sight. She is wearing one of my fitted suits, of a rich red color I wore for our engagement photos. She had seen it in the weeks leading up to the event, instantly falling in love with it and practically begging me to get it. I’ve worn it only a handful of times since then, only for special occasions. Shelley looks immaculate. She has one foot propped against the wall and has the suit coat draped over her broad shoulder by one finger, looking immensely cool and casual. The top two buttons of the dress shirt are unbuttoned, chest fur visible, and she has rolled up the sleeves to expose her lean, muscular forearms. She looks every bit the part of a stylish, well-made man. I feel even more self-conscious, like I’m an imposter wearing some kind of costume, my clothing suddenly ill-fitting and laughable. My fears are instantly assuaged when Shelley’s eyes light up upon seeing me. “Babe, you look so [i]good[/i]! When did you learn fashion?” I smile sheepishly. “Come on, your closet is basically a cheat code. You did all the hard work for me. And hey, look at you! Looking sharp! I guess you did pick it out for me in the first place.” She shrugs, draping the coat over a nightstand. “Only because I knew it would look so nice on that body of yours.” She hugs her midsection, running her fingers along the dress shirt and smiling wistfully. “It makes me happy seeing this, remembering [i]you[/i] in this.” We meet in the middle of the room. I stare up at her, aware of an earthy, masculine scent radiating from her body. “Did you put on some of my cologne? I can’t place that smell.” She chuckles and crosses her arms. “No time for that when I spent the whole time trying to wrangle this suit over this body.” Affecting a deep, throaty voice, she continues, “What, you picking up on my manly pheromones, babe?” We both chuckle, then stare at one another in silence. I still can’t get over seeing her like this, as though a long-lost, male twin has taken her place. She looks bold, confident, the exact opposite of how I feel. It’s a distinct difference, staring up at her like this. She’s like a wall of manly flesh, broad and muscular, seemingly strong enough that nothing could move her. I step closer, and she reaches down and rests her palm against my cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with the other hand. “I think, uh, you’ve got the winning outfit, Shell,” I say, my voice light and weak. “Funny, I was about to say the same for you,” she replies. “God, you’re beautiful.” My heart swells, and I’ve never felt more wanted. Her smile is everything, as though she is peeking into my soul, into my very essence, and doesn’t mind what she sees. I reach out and hug her, leaning my head against the wall of her chest. She wraps her strong arms around me, and I am overwhelmed by her scent. We slowly rock back and forth. “I love you, Shell. I’m glad we did this,” I say, more honestly than she realizes. “Love you too, Winston,” she replies, her breath hot on the top of my head. After a long silence, I ask, “While we’re like this, is there anything else you want to do?” As if in answer, I notice for the first time that something is pressing into my lower abdomen. I look down. Shelley is tenting within her/my pants, and she grins sheepishly. “I, uh, guess the little guy is answering for me. Only if you want to, though. This is super different for both of us, but, damn, what an opportunity to try something new. Still, I don’t want to cross into anything that makes you uncomfortable.” I’m pretty sure of my sexual orientation. This is still Shelley, after all, and she’s still the same person on the inside, the person I fell in love with and who knows how to drive me wild in the bedroom, even if the anatomy is different. I would say that what is currently pressing against my body doesn’t hold much appeal to me, but I feel myself growing warm and, [i]fuck[/i], is that moisture I feel between my legs? Maybe it’s best not to attach a label to what I’m feeling right now. This is Shelley, [i]my wife[/i], my love for her the same as it ever was. I nod. “I want that, too,” I reply, tracing a finger along Shelley’s bare chest. One by one, I unbutton Shelley’s dress shirt, fingers fumbling, not used to working at it from this angle. When I’m done, she shrugs off the shirt and tosses it in the corner. As I work her belt off, she cranes her neck down and cups my head, kissing me on the forehead, on my cheeks, on my nose. I drop her pants and she kicks them away, her manhood throbbing beneath her boxers. Her hands brush through my long hair, run along my shoulders, fingers tracing the outline of my dress. She exposes one of my shoulders then the next, and I shimmy down out of the sundress, down to my undergarments. Shelley pulls me into a deep embrace, her manhood practically vertical against my abdomen, spots of precum already visible against the fabric of her boxers, and unclasps my bra. My breasts spill out as I toss my bra to the floor, nipples hard. My long fingers trace the elastic waistband of her boxers. Hooking a finger inside, I pull them down, watching as her cock throbs and bobs in answer. Shelley is breathing hard, eyes afire in a way I have never seen before. She kneels, head at my crotch, and pulls down my panties, which bear a wet spot. Shelley stares up at me, a mischievous grin on her face. “This might be brand new for you, but trust me: I know how to please a lady.” The fur around my womanhood is glistening, droplets of my excitement coating my hair. Shelley leans in close and a long tongue exits her mouth, probing my feminine folds. I gasp and shudder, somehow able to stay standing so this wonderful feeling can continue. My god, is [i]this[/i] how it feels? Every nerve feels amplified a hundred fold, and she is only probing the surface, lightly lapping. It feels like just barely scratching an itch, like just a single drop of water when a whole glass is needed to quench one’s thirst. Part of me wants to force her face against me, propel her tongue even deeper, this whetting of the appetite not nearly enough. Shelley pulls back, licking her lips, a strand of my arousal connecting my womanhood to her chin. I sigh, incredulous, eyeing her awaiting cock. Pleasure is a two-way street, after all. “The look on your face right now,” she chuckles, voice deep. “Babe, that’s just the beginning.” I nod, fine with awaiting the pleasures to come. I eye the bed and Shelley sits on the edge, totally erect. I may have never done this with the manhood of someone else, but I know what buttons to press. Leaning in close, I lightly run my finger along the length of her cock from base to tip. She shudders, blinking fast, an instant affirmation that I am on the right track. After a few times, I wrap my fingers around her shaft, gripping lightly but firmly, and slowly pump her. She groans with every instance, and soon starts to rock her hips in time with my gestures, rear leaving the bed. Droplets of pearlescent precum stick to my fingers with each trip to her tip, evidence of her affection. I’m so used to being on the other side, of not seeing how visible another person’s arousal can be. While her manhood was by no means diminutive before, it is now a thick, pink shaft that I can barely wrap my fingers around. I sense Shelley breathing harder, rocking her hips more quickly and pulling my hand along with it, so I let go, smirking. “Slow down yourself, cowboy. That thing gives you one orgasm to work with at a time, so you better save it for the main event.” I have to stifle a chuckle at how crestfallen she looks, eyes full of rejection. The look passes quickly, though, and she nods. “You’re right. Damn, that feels good though.” She leans forward. “I shouldn’t be so selfish, though. Your turn again.” Shelley plants a deep, passionate kiss on my lips, hand on the back of my head, making my eyelids flutter. Her kisses move to my chin, to my neck, down to my chest. She delicately cups a breast in one hand and kisses a hardened nipple, licking at my areola. Teeth trace my nipple then she starts sucking and I swear I see stars, a moan escaping my lips. She moves to the other breast, repeating the action, then her other hand moves down the curve of my hip, creeping inward to plunge two fingers between my awaiting folds. She is a practiced expert, knowing exactly what to do at which moment. She is slow, methodical, and I move my hips in time with her movements, as though inviting her fingers to delve deeper. She fingers me and sucks me at the same time and I am ascending to a higher plane of existence, this pleasure unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I moan every time her fingers graze my engorged clit, vocal despite myself. I want more, her practiced pace maddeningly slow. Almost sensing my impatience, she pulls away, her fingers glistening with my arousal. Unspoken communication passes between us and I hop onto the bed, crawling to the head. I prop pillows up behind my back and under my hips, and spread my legs, tracing a finger along my womanhood that is sopping with excitement. Shelley crawls onto the bed and towards me, cock bobbing with her movements, hunger apparent in her eyes. My heart pounds and I feel like I’m on fire, the foreplay and anticipation making each moment an agonizing eternity. Shelley rises onto her knees in front of me, a muscled he-man, taking in the sight of me. Slowly, awkwardly, she lowers herself on top of me, guiding her cock inside of me for the first time. We gasp in unison, staring into one another’s eyes incredulously. Smiling, she starts rocking, slow and steady, my tunnel clenching around her member with each thrust. I lift my hips upward at the deepest of her movements, guiding her as deep as she can go. Waves of pleasure roll through me, each thrust a massage to a part of my anatomy I’ve never had before. She’s so [i]big[/i], my passage so tight as if clenching her member will keep it inside of me and prolong this pleasure forever. We gyrate as one, moan in unison, sweat dotting our fur. She clenches her jaw with each thrust, eyes growing hazy. She looks so big atop me, as though she makes up the entire world. Between the pangs of pleasure, I glance past my heaving breasts at our union, blinking rapidly as I take in this reversal of anatomy, of her engorged cock slipping in and out of my vagina, the mixed secretions of our joining mixing together. Seeing myself, seeing my body, feels perfectly natural as though this was always who I was meant to be, in a body that worked with me and not against me. I touch the muscles of her chest and try to say something, my words jumbled in my pleasure. Shelley picks up the pace and thrusts harder, deeper, her voice a rumbling bellow. My body urges hers onward, squeezing her cock as tightly as it can. We exchange a glance and I can sense the end is coming, that she has no chance of pulling back or slowing down before she finishes. I’m right there with her, feeling my pleasure mount, this body telling me it won’t last much longer. My roller coaster climbs, ascending towards its first plummet. My gyrations are deep, greedy, making the most of each inward thrust, my folds slick and tight for our union. Shelley grits her teeth, grimacing, looking anywhere but at me. I’m almost there, just a bit more… My body tenses and I cry out, an orgasm rolling through me like a tidal wave. Rather than the singular blast of pleasure I am used to, this body pulses with wave after wave of sweet release. My eyes roll back in my head, my limbs stiffening, the world around me growing hazy. I am snapped back to reality as Shelley lets out a howl on top of me, muscles flexing as she orgasms. Hot, sticky strings of her ejaculate flood my insides, making my body even hotter. My pleasure mounts and I feel another orgasm approaching, if I can just seize the opportunity. But time is running short, Shelley’s cock about to lose its rigidity. She shivers with pleasure, lost in her own world as she shoots diminishing shots of her seed. I wrap my arms around her midsection, latching on to her sweat-drenched fur as well as I can. My gyrations are more than she can handle in her weakened afterglow, as I manage to shove her onto her back and topple on top of her. I straddle her cock, gyrating against her supine form as though my insides are clenching every last drop of cum out of her. I practically sit on her lower body, rocking my hips, ever closer to another rush of pleasure if she can just stay hard a little longer. I grab the sheets and cry out, body growing rigid as I am enraptured in the throes of another orgasm just as powerful as the first. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through my body, and I swear I can see the back of my own head, spirit shooting out of my body. I quiver, rocking on her body as much as I am able to keep this pleasure going. Eventually, I slump back, Shelley’s diminishing cock slipping out of me followed by swirling secretions of our lovemaking. I am finally spent, sinking into the soft mattress of our bed. I stare at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, breathing hard. A dark shape enters my vision and lays down beside me, wrapping an arm around me. “Holy shit,” Shelley says, panting. I can only nod, words impossible right now. “It’s like… one big blast, like an explosion,” she continues. “Instead of… like an earthquake… and the tremors that follow.” When I’m able to move again, I roll into her arms, the little spoon for once. “That was… [i]magic[/i],” I say. “As nice as this has been, I’m glad to be who I am. I mean, not a guy. Nothing wrong with that, of course,” she says, squeezing me in her arms, “but a nice one-and-done for me.” She sticks her face in my hair, breathing deeply. I stare at the opposite wall, hugging myself. How do I tell her that I don’t want this to be a one-time thing for me? That, for the first time, I truly feel like myself? She’s always been so kind, so supportive, as long as I’ve known her. But would that support extend to [i]this[/i]? Even if she did support me, I don’t know how potions work. Can Frank make one with permanent results, or would each potion only last a few hours at most? And, as busy as he is, how frequently could he even get them to me? Even if he can’t help me, I have to remind myself that magic potions [i]do[/i] exist, albeit in a different form. Rather than instantaneous results, they take months, years to slowly change one’s body into what it should be. HRT, surgeries, social transition, voice training, it’s absolutely possible to actually become happy with myself. I sigh deeply, trying to appreciate this body for as long as it lasts, before I am changed back to a shell of myself. Behind me, Shelley softly snores. I’ve had this mental argument with myself more times than I can count, giving up each time. But now that I’ve experienced true joy, I can’t keep putting it off. I snuggle closer to Shelley, debating how to tell her.