When the old guy warns you, you really need to pay attention!
SRU: Satisfaction Guaranteed
by Enigma
She saved my life. I met Bonnie part way through my senior year of high school, just at the point that I was ready to end it all. When we met, something just clicked, and shy talks gave way to solid friendship which evolved into love, much to the amazement of both of us.
Bonnie Sampson is really cute. Not classically beautiful, but still with a body to send most hormonal high school boys into daydreams of sex and lust. Her build was just a little too round to be called slender, and her dirty blonde hair was not glamorous, but still added to her attractiveness. Her blue eyes were lovely, but not the sparkling blue that draws the male attention. Her B cup breasts were a little too small to catch all the guys’ glances, and her waist was not tiny, though she still had a mild hourglass shape. Yet the sum of the not-so-perfect parts created a whole that stirred the blood of most men and boys she encountered. Most men other than me.
My name is Randy Thompson. I am tall, with broad shoulders tapering to slim hips. My abs aren’t washboard, but they are taut, and there is no tummy bulge. My package was the envy of many of my classmates, as were my rugged good looks, curly dark hair, and dazzling hazel eyes. Just the kind of hunk that Bonnie was not interested in.
Bonnie had decided a year or so ago that she was a lesbian, that men just didn’t float her boat. Yet, my soft-spoken ways and empathy drew her like honey, once she got past the hunky exterior. She could not believe that she had actually fallen in love with me. I couldn’t either, but was thankful for that fact since that was what saved my life.
Those thoroughly masculine features I “enjoyed” were what had driven me to the brink of extinction. From the time I was four or five, I’d known I should have been born a girl. At that age, I often played dress-up with my older sister. My pre-adolescent body looked good in her hand-me-downs, and I loved the feel and freedom of feminine attire. My parents were not hung up on gender stereotypes, and treated my dressing games with amused tolerance all through grade school and into junior high. Their loving acceptance allowed me to really heed their warnings that others might not understand, so no one outside our family knew.
Then, in my freshman year of high school, puberty struck with demonic efficiency, transforming my slender androgynous body into the physique of a Greek god, and my passable feminine persona into a parody of womanhood. My hairy arms and legs, broad, deep chest, bulging muscles, and chiseled facial features made me look like a bad joke when I dressed. It was the end of my world, and I settled into a funk that seemed would have no end. I was near the brink, ready to escape my recently miserable life when I got to really know Bonnie.
We had been in the same school for years, but with nearly 2000 students, it was impossible to know everyone. I had seen her around, and could intellectually understand how her looks enticed the guys, but with my ambiguous sexuality and deep depression, she was not attractive to me in the least.
We met at a school dance that one of my few friends badgered me into attending. Apparently, she was there for the same reason. We managed to stick it out for the first hour or so before each escaping what was not an enjoyable experience. Bonnie was sick of the repeated fumbling passes of the male population, as I quickly tired of the constant feminine attention. Bonnie would have loved to be in my position (though not my body), and I was just jealous of all those female forms that fit my soul so much better than my own shape. We each escaped to the same bench hidden away behind a screening hedge, and neither of us was willing to yield our hideaway to the other, so we sullenly shared.
Surly silence eventually gave way to tentative exchanges, to wry amusement that we each were in the same boat. She had known more about me than I knew of her, so she knew I was not the typical macho stud so common in those with similar physiques. So she was willing to give me a chance to at least talk. She listened to me, really listened, and though I didn’t tell her the reason for my misery, her natural good humor and empathy drew me out, and she was able to ease some of my pain just by the show of understanding.
Over the next few months our friendship slowly grew, until we started using each other as a shield against the kind of unwanted attention we had been escaping at the dance. From the world’s perspective, we became a couple, though we did not see it that way. We just thought we were good friends who could help each other divert unwanted advances.
High school ended, and we both decided to attend the state school just a hundred miles from our home town. After the mandatory semester in the dorms, we were both sick of that life, and decided to share an apartment. Bonnie felt safe with me as I never came on to her, just as she never came on to me. But both our families decided we were really in a serious relationship. I think Bonnie was shocked when one late night in our second year at State, after hours of studying for mid-terms, she seduced me, and we awoke the next morning cuddling together in the same bed.
Over the remaining time in college, we grew closer, and our sex life flourished, though our circle of friends remained small. Our mutual trust and respect grew, and early in our senior year, I finally shared my shameful secret with this special person. I was terrified, fully expecting her to spurn me, and move out to get away from the pervert, but amazingly, she accepted me. Having, for the first time, someone who knew the secret pain I carried eased that pain. Over time, she encouraged me to dress again in girls clothing we accumulated gradually. We both knew I could never be a passable woman, that no amount of corseting or cosmetics or even surgery could make me look like anything but a man. But just the chance to dress without ridicule or censure was a balm to my spirit. We learned that seeing the man-in-a-dress reflected back from any mirror depressed me, so Bonnie would help me cover the mirrors before Randi came out to play.
After graduation, we both sought and found jobs in our home town. Finally recognizing that what we shared had grown into true love, I proposed to Bonnie, and we were married just before Christmas that first year after college. Our jobs paid well enough that we had a nice apartment, and drove decent cars. Life was good for both of us, and the desperation that had nearly driven me to suicide was a mostly forgotten ache that rarely impinged on my consciousness.
It was as I was shopping for a Christmas present for my bride of three years that I stumbled across a strange little shop that I had never noticed in the mall before. It appeared to be ancient, with rustic paned windows facing the concourse, and heavy wooden doors with glass panels serving as the entrance. A bewildering and enticing assortment of merchandise was glimpsed through the old-fashioned windows. An antique bell tinkled as I entered the shop, and after browsing in solitude for a few minutes, I was startled by the greeting “Hello, Randi. I’ve been expecting you.”
The voice was surprisingly strong for the rather elderly man I saw behind a counter when I whirled around. He was dressed in a shabby blue robe, and had wispy gray hair that looked quite unkempt. It was amazing that my name on his lips carried such a pronounced feminine flavor. Bonnie could call me Randy or Randi, and no one but me could ever tell the difference. Not so with this strange person.
And how did he know my name in the first place. He just smirked at me and tapped the small plaque on the counter. I approached so I could read it, and chuckled at the inscription: “Because I’m a wizard, of course!”
“So, Randi, found anything you like?”
“I’m not even sure what I am looking for,” I responded with a weak smile. “Any suggestions?”
“Maybe Bonnie would like one of these necklaces.”
At my startled look, his eyes flicked to the plaque again, and I smiled a little more warmly. He helped me find something I thought my loving wife would like. It appeared to be very old, but was really beautiful and in extremely good condition. I was surprised at how reasonable the price was, given its apparent age and craftsmanship..
“That’s because that is a mundane piece,” he replied to my unspoken question. At my puzzled look, he added, “No magic.” He paused a moment before continuing; “Now over here, I have a bit of magic that I think you might enjoy. I think Bonnie would enjoy it as well!” he added with a knowing smile.
What this bit of magic turned out to be was a small vial with a glass stopper, mostly filled with a viscous pinkish fluid. There was a label on both front and back. The front said “Girl Potion”, and the back label was covered with tiny printing followed by even tinier printing.
“This little item can give you your fondest wish for one week. But be sure that you follow the directions exactly, as there can be some rather, shall we say, undesirable side effects.”
The price he quoted was considerably higher than the “non-magical” necklace, and I chuckled at his thoroughly consistent if eccentric behavior.
“Come now, Randi. Don’t you believe me?” Then he sighed, “Seems like no one believes in magic anymore.” He looked at me closely. “Randi, I know what you have been living with, and I want to help... Tell you what. You buy the necklace and take the potion with you. After you try it, if you think it was worth what I asked, come back and pay for it then. See? Satisfaction guaranteed!” He beamed at me, “I know I can trust you. That’s so refreshing in this day and age!”
So it came to be that I left the shop with a nicely wrapped gift for Bonnie, and an intriguing little novelty for myself.
Bonnie loved her necklace, and I loved the bra and panty set she gave me, once I steeled myself to ignore the mega-size required to fit my bulk. As we cuddled after the gift exchange, watching the lights on our tiny Christmas tree twinkle, I told Bonnie about the funny little shop where I’d found her gift. This led to describing the other oddity I’d picked up that day. I hadn’t really figured what to do about it, so it was stashed safely in the back of one of my drawers. Bonnie made me get it out so she could see it.
Squinting at the larger, but still tiny text on the back label, she read, “Imagine the girl you want to be, close your eyes, and down the entire potion in one draught. Effects last 7 full days.”
Bonnie looked thoughtful for a few minutes. “Do you really think this would work?”
I chuckled at her romantic nature. “Nope. Much as I could wish otherwise, there just isn’t that kind of magic in the world, lover.”
“Still, what would you wish for if it were real?”
We talked about it for a while as if it really could happen, and it was bittersweet describing what I would want my body to look like if such a thing could be. My concept of my ideal body had evolved through my romance with Bonnie. The fun wore off after a bit, and we just snuggled in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts.
Finally, Bonnie broke my reverie. “You know, we have a week off work for the holidays. Neither of us has to be back till after New Years. What would it hurt to try?” She looked at me with a pleading expression, and my heart melted. Taking the vial from her hand, I twisted out the stopper only to be greeted by a fruity, sweet aroma that actually made my mouth water. I started to put the little bottle to my lips when she grabbed my arm to stop me.
“Remember, close your eyes and concentrate on what you want to be.” I smiled at her tenderly, shook my head slightly, then closed my eyes and concentrated. Slowly I formed a picture in my mind, visualizing what we had talked about moments before. It was hard at first, but as I put the image together, it seemed to take on a life of its own, gaining detail at an increasing pace. When finished, what I saw in my mind’s eye was a pretty girl that could have been Bonnie’s younger sister. The same general looks, but slightly more slender, brighter blue, wider, innocent eyes, fuller lips, a slightly larger bust, and a somewhat narrower waist. The image had all the features that made Bonnie so attractive, each shaded slightly toward the modern concept of beauty. The result was still not amazingly beautiful, but managed to capture Bonnie’s cuteness in a younger, healthier, prettier form.
I raised the container to my lips and drained the contents. The flavor was as good as the scent had promised, and the thick liquid slid easily down my throat. I smiled at Bonnie, and was just about to say, “See, nothing happened” when a wave of dizziness hit me and I realized that Bonnie cuddling against my chest like that made my boobs hurt. I shifted uncomfortably before it hit me! Bonnie was staring at me dumbstruck. Neither one of us could actually believe that it really worked!
That afternoon and evening, Bonnie sated her lesbian desires in more ways than I knew to be possible. And while it was very enjoyable for me, it was mostly knowing that I was pleasing my wife that made it so. I came to realize that I was not completely lesbian, but somewhere between purely heterosexual and bi.
The magic of the potion had transformed all my clothing along with my body. As we explored, we found that my new wardrobe was styled a little younger and a little more daring than Bonnie’s. The day after Christmas, we showered and dressed for an outing. I was further amazed when I was able to apply makeup with no problem. The heels I had been denied for so many years since my feet grew to a manly size were too easy to walk in to be explained by that years ago practice. Another accommodation of the spell, I decided.
Shopping was fun, even though we didn’t buy much. The several days that followed were a whirlwind of lovemaking and other fantastic experiences. We shopped, went to movies, ate out, danced, visited museums, basically any of the things I had longed to do as a girl. Knowing this was my week, my only chance to experience womanhood, Bonnie was up for almost anything I suggested. But while I was pretty sure I was a mostly straight female, I never intimated my longing to experiment with a man. I took my wedding vows seriously, and would not willingly violate them for anything.
About the sixth day, we were both worn out, and I was a little depressed. I had under a day left of this wonderful fantasy. Bonnie found me sitting quietly on the couch and sat silently next to me. Finally she asked, “What is it, Randi? Why the blues?”
I looked at her and tried to smile. “Just lamenting that my time as a girl is almost up.”
“Yeah, I know,” she consoled me. “But look on the bright side. As wonderful as our lovemaking has been, I am really looking forward to getting my wonderful hubby back.” She snorted a mirthless laugh and added, “I guess I’m not much of a lesbian after all. It just took the right man to make me see that.”
I hugged her lovingly, reveling in the feel of her pressing against my breasts and the heat of her body.
“There’s something else though, isn’t there?”
I didn’t respond to her question.
“Come on, sweety, what else is bothering you?”
“Nothing.” But my reply wasn’t very convincing.
She sat up and turned me so I faced her squarely. “Please, I really want to know.”
I cast my eyes downward so I could avoid her gaze. “Um, it’s just that… well…”
“Come on, you can tell me anything, love.”
I blushed furiously. “I’m, um, just, um, kind of disappointed that, uh, that I wont get a chance to experience sex with a guy.”
I heard her sharp intake of breath and looked up to see the shock in her face. I hoped that admission hadn’t hurt her opinion of me. Maybe she thought I was gay. I mean, what guy wants to be with another guy? But in spite of all the enjoyment we got from sex before this dream come true, I really was a girl stuck in a guy’s body, so I didn’t think of it as a gay desire. Especially with the way my body looked for this week.
She settled back down against the back of the couch, and it hurt a bit that she didn’t cuddle against me like she was before. After a painfully long pause, she smiled a little and said, “Sure, why not? I’m sure we can work something out.”
“No!”
“Huh? But you said…”
“No. I wish I could, but I can’t. I won’t do that to you. I won’t break our wedding vows like that.”
“But…”
“Look, Bonnie. This week has been wonderful. And it isn’t over yet. But as great as it is, my life is with you. You are the most important thing in my world. You are what makes my life worth living. I can’t do that, can’t take the chance. Can’t set the precedent of ignoring a solemn vow for a ‘special case’. What will the next ‘special case’ be? Thank-you, sweetheart, but I won’t do it much as I’d like to experience that.”
She smiled brightly at me and scooted up against me for another session of snuggling. That night after some wonderful lovemaking, Bonnie drifted off the sleep, but for me slumber would not come. On a hunch, I pulled out the “Girl Potion” vial and reread the back label. The readable part said just what Bonnie had read the other day, but I remembered the old guy’s warning. Nothing about those instructions seemed to warrant that admonition. Sliding carefully away from my wife, I moved to the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the lights. Using a magnifying glass, I studied the label again. The lines that were too tiny to read with the naked eye became readable under the bright light and magnification. I read the ‘fine print’:
“Cautions: Injuries while transformed will remain after reverting to natural form. Avoid sexual intercourse as culmination of that act will result in an unpredictable outcome, including, but not limited to, making the transformation permanent.”
I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Much as I’d like to have a body like this for life, this wasn’t me. It was not the body my wife married. It wasn’t the body that had the career. I’m just glad that I didn’t give in to the urge.
I slid back into bed next to Bonnie, careful not to wake her, but it was still quite some time before I drifted into slumber. It was late the next morning when I woke to the pleasurable sensations of Bonnie’s tongue on my most sensitive erogenous zone. As I pulled myself to consciousness, I noticed the bedside clock read almost noon. Damn! I’d transformed in the early afternoon, so I could expect to transform back in an hour or two. So I guess I’d better enjoy this while I can.
It didn’t take long before I experienced one of the exquisite orgasms that this body is capable of. It seemed to last forever, as Bonnie gently tweaked and nibbled me to prolong it. When I had floated back down to earth, she crawled up and straddled my head so I could return the favor. She pushed my arms up over my head and leaned forward to pin them to the bed with her hands while I sought her treasure, intent on returning her gift. I was just getting into it, when I heard a muffled word from Bonnie and I felt the bed move, and my legs were spread apart. Wait! If Bonnie is up here, who is down there?
I felt something probing my nether lips where Bonnie’s tongue had so recently been. Whatever it was, and whoever wielded it, they were being very gentle. Our sex play this week had included experimenting with Bonnie’s toys, and this felt just about like her big dildo. I was so wet, it slid in with almost no resistance, and God! did that feel wonderful. When it reached its deepest penetration, it was further in than the biggest toy Bonnie owned, and I felt something brush against my bottom. Wait! That means…
Whatever it was pulled slowly almost all the way out, then more quickly in. That sent a surge of tingling through me, causing a sharp intake of air through my nose, since my mouth was stifled by Bonnie’s nether lips. The movement below picked up speed, and soon there was a rhythmic slapping against my bottom on each stroke.
Oh, that felt wonderful! So much better than the plastic toys Bonnie had. I almost lost myself to the sensation, but then realized what that would mean. That was a man down there! If I just let this happen, I would be stuck forever this way.
I started struggling, trying to scream out a warning to Bonnie, but her body straddling my mouth stifled all sound. I heard her talking to me, “Shh, shh, it’s ok. This is my gift. It’s ok.”
I just struggled harder, but Bonnie rode me like a champ. Finally, in desperation, I bit her tender flesh. Hard. She squealed and jumped aside, looking down at me with a hurt expression on her face.
I was panting from the almost overwhelming sensations down below and the exertion of my struggles. Looking down, I saw Jim, our next door neighbor pounding away at me in a view between my violently jiggling breasts. He took Bonnie’s absence above my upper body as permission to give my boobs an erotic massage, and again I almost lost it. We had lived next to Jim for three years now, and had become pretty good friends. From my female perspective, I now noticed what a hunk he is, though Bonnie had never shown any attraction to him. He’s a nice guy, though. I struggled to focus, and looked over at Bonnie, who was looking back at me.
“Please…” I gasped, grunting out one word with each pounding stroke, “must… stop…”
“Shh, it’s ok, sweetheart. I love you and want you to have this.” I was shaking my head violently.
“Must… unh… not… aah… come…”, pant, pant, “in… me!”
“It’s ok, honey, you’ll be back to normal tomorrow. It’s ok.” Again I was frantically shaking my head even as I felt a wave of orgasmic pleasure break over me and threaten to drown all resistance.
“That… God!... would… oh… that… feels… so… good!” Again, I almost succumbed. Mustering everything I had, even as Jim pounded me faster, I tried again, more urgently. “would… make… permanent!”
“What?” Bonnie shrieked.
I groaned in pleasure as another orgasm swept through my body, then panted a few times to collect my breath. “If… he… ungh… comes,” pant, “I… stay… this… oh, yes!... way… forever!”
Bonnie finally got it and turned toward Jim. I was about out of resistance, and almost hoped she wouldn’t be able to do anything. This just felt too good.
Bonnie started pushing on Jim, yelling at him, trying to get him to stop.
He pushed her gently away as he continued to pound into me, grunting out, “Not yet… almost there.”
By now, tears were streaming down Bonnie’s face, and she was begging for Jim to stop, pounding on his shoulder with her little fists. Just then, Jim drove himself into me even deeper, freezing there for a long moment, before I felt him pulsing within me, and the hot spurts against my cervix toppled me over the edge into a tremendous climax that seemed to last forever, but not nearly long enough.
When I came down from the intense high, I found Bonnie kneeling beside me, tears streaming from her eyes, stroking my cheek tenderly. “Was it wonderful, honey?”
Against my will, a big grin spread across my face and I nodded mutely, even as tears poured down my cheeks over the devastating turn our lives had just taken, and I desperately prayed for a different outcome.
She whispered, “I don’t know why we’re crying. These must be happy tears. I can’t believe I just watched my baby sister’s first time!”
