Welcome to

Kent woke slowly, feeling the sun on his face. He was still outside on the lounge chair, his body feeling lighter after the short nap. He must have passed out after the incredible orgasm he had. A smile spread across his face as he stretched, feeling Julie’s muscles respond; Kent was still in her body, after all.

The entire day lay ahead of him.

Maybe he should explore. But first, he should check up on his own body.

He made his way back up to the attic, skin still glistening from the sticky lemonade and towel draped over one shoulder, Julie’s bikini clinging in all the right (and wrong) places. As he stepped into the dusty heat, a flicker of something familiar caught his eye—half-hidden beneath a collapsed towel and a stack of Christmas lights.

The doll.

Kent froze, then chuckled. “You again.”

It was still lying there—face tilted toward the ceiling, painted eyes staring through him, just like before. Kent nudged it with his foot. Nothing. He bent down, brushing the towel away completely, and picked the doll up in both hands.

"Round two?"

The moment his fingers wrapped around the fabric, something shifted in the room. A faint warmth sparked at the center of his palm, tingling through Julie’s nerves. Not quite the same as the first time, but there was something—some link, still active, still humming.

Kent looked down at the still form of his body nearby. “Let’s try this.”

With the doll in one hand, he waved the other toward his original body like a stage magician. “Rise and shine, handsome.”

At first, nothing happened. Then a twitch. A roll. A groggy shift of limbs and breath. His body blinked against the attic dust and sat up slowly, like a groggy teenager coming off a hangover.

It was weird.

Kent-as-Julie tilted his head. “Huh. You’re uglier than I remember.”

The clone blinked blearily. “And you’re meaner.”

Kent smiled, then gave a careless wave of his hand. “Get up. Time to be useful.”

The clone groaned but pushed himself up, limbs stiff and reluctant. “You really brought me back just to make me clean?”

Kent-as-Julie nodded, amused. “I’m giving you purpose.”

“Pretty sure this counts as self-abuse,” the clone muttered, grabbing the broom.

Kent’s eyes narrowed. “Straighten your back. You’re making me look bad.”

The clone scowled. “You are me.”

“And yet I’m somehow better.”

Its movements were stiff at first, clumsy too, but before long it found that natural rhythm. Broom in hand, it swept, then lifted some boxes, hauled a few too—the same work Kent had been meant to do all along, work he would have finished by now.

But life came along and gave him a nice surprise.

Kent leaned against the railing, arms folded under Julie’s soft chest, watching his own body grunt and curse under the weight of another box.

“Unbelievable,” the clone muttered. “You talk like her, you boss like her... you are her.”

Kent’s smirk widened. “No. I’m just better at being her than she ever was.”

There was the stubborn sweat on his brow, even a curse on his lips as a box crushed a foot. In Julie’s body, Kent tensed like he could feel his toe bruise, but the pain never came. Because it wasn’t him.

He was Julie.

In her body he walked away, stretching like he just got off scot-free. Time to make use of all his privilege. He also needed a shower to clean up the sticky mess he made.

Kent headed in the direction of her room, to the bathroom that was attached. It was bigger than Kent’s whole life. Mirrors reflected their approval, but Kent knows they were in on the secret. Not Julie. He grinned at his reflection, she grinned back, like she planned the whole thing.

Kent drops the bikini, and let it all fall and puddle at Julie’s feet. Her bare feet. He loved feeling so exposed in her body. It was powerful. That must have been how Julie always felt. He watched himself, her, them, reach into the shower. Turn the knob and the water streamed out—rushing, hissing, and wonderfully hot.

The steam filled the room faster than his panic had in the attic. He stepped in and let the first spray soak her, letting her hair and shoulders cling to nothing but beads of water. His arms and chest were slick, and the warm rush caught in his breath as it ran over new places and new nerves.

He leaned back into it and savored the way her skin came alive under his touch. Her touch. Her skin was slick, impossibly smooth. The showerhead streamed down, bounced off and around him, and ran between Julie’s legs. His knees buckled under its strength. Kent gasped. He reached for support; his hand brushed against her nipple, and he nearly lost his mind.

He steadied himself, hand against the tile, and let the shower work its magic. He ran the length of her torso with both hands and spread them across her breasts. He gave them the same attention she had given him—none at all—grabbing, tugging, working at them until Julie’s whole body was burning up from more than the hot water.

“Godddd…!” Kent heard her cry and knew it was him.

The vibrations rolled through her. They didn’t stop in one place. They ricocheted through his whole mind and Julie’s whole body. Kent cupped both breasts, leaned back, and felt her hair whip around. His eyes fluttered as the rush of water pushed him further and further.

This was nothing like he’d ever dreamed. This was everything.

He slid down the wall, settling on the shower seat in the shower. With the quick push of a button, the extra showerhead came to life as well. Kent moved it up over his shoulder, let the water run down his back, down his chest, swirling over every inch.

Each touch is electric, more intense than he remembered. Kent’s grip on the showerhead tightened, exploring the softness, the exquisite sensitivity of her skin. Julie’s nipples hardened at the touch of his fingers, and he pinched them until the heat radiated through every part of his being. He moved the spray closer, a flood between her legs. Hips jerked, instinctual, wanting.

He pushed at the boundaries of sensation, drove his touch deeper, faster, harder. Showers should feel like this: urgent, wet, pressing at the edges of the world. He braced himself, the orgasm building with the speed of light. The water pounded over him, and his hands were constantly moving, between her thighs, under her ass, across her breasts.

Her moans echoed, rising with the steam. A frantic gasping, not even sure if the words were her own, not even sure if he cared.

“Oh God oh God oh God,” Kent heard, or imagined, or wished.

It felt different than before. Everything felt different now. His thoughts shrank and swelled, disappeared into water and flesh and need.

The world was gone.

The bathroom was gone.

Julie was gone, and there was only Kent in Julie's body, climaxing, quaking, shaking so hard that she nearly came apart. The floor didn’t feel real beneath her feet. She didn’t feel real beneath his soul.

The shower pulsed, timed to the heartbeat of the universe, timed to the same clockwork lust that pulled at every part of him. His moans became frantic, echoed louder than they ever had. Every nerve was alive, every feeling amplified by the feminine flesh he wore.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh…”

Long and loud, wild and unruly. Kent basked in it, savored the pure and dizzy brilliance of another female orgasm.

Then his greedy spirit dove in for more. He moved the showerhead again, fumbling this time. One hand adjusted the angle; the other pulled a nipple taut. He angled it so the stream crashed against her clit, moving back and forth and rocking his whole damn world.

Kent moved his hips forward, seeking more. Her hair was plastered to her back; his new breasts were plastered to her chest. The water poured down on him, and the vibrations kept coming—each stronger, faster, better.

His hips moved against the water with increasing urgency. He was chasing it, he needed more, knew she could handle another one.

The current between her legs sent jolts through him, and his thoughts disintegrated in a torrent of heat. More touch, more pressure, more sensation. His hands were hungry, and he loved feeling them against Julie’s breasts. He pulled a nipple again, twisting it, turning it as another moan ripped out of him.

“F…fuck!”

The streaming jets of water pounded against her, pulsing against her clit, rushing into her hole. It was the perfect massage for her pussy, overstimulation making it sweeter, and slicker, perfect.

Kent felt more wet than he remembered being in his own body, wetter than he thought anyone could be.

He gave into it, let it devour him.

The universe stopped then spun, doubling back, greedy, insatiable. He rode it like a runaway train, humping and thrusting until it became too much to stand. “Fuck fuck fuuuuuuck,” was the final gasp before he collapsed, nearly losing his legs, nearly losing his mind. The noise echoed off tiles, through the neighborhood if he wasn’t careful. And who cared if he was?

Julie’s whole body shook as she came again.

Kent slumped against the tile, panting, and adjusted the water to a more generous temperature. His hands were unsteady on the knob. The whole bathroom was a sauna. He could barely see through the steam and his own bliss. Julie’s bliss.

It had been different. It had been nothing like what he thought he knew. Part of him had been sure he’d explode, but he hadn’t. Part of him had been sure it would be over quick, like outside. It wasn’t. He came down from it, feeling every sensation ripple through him as if it never wanted to leave.

Kent finished washing up. He took his time. He liked taking his time. When the water shut off, he shook her hair and felt the moisture dripping everywhere.

He exited the bathroom. Her body tingled, her mind was crystal clear. He wondered how long it would last, how long he could get away with it before his luck broke. If today was any sign, maybe forever.

It wasn’t a bad thought. Not bad at all.

Kent wrapped the towel around him and padded down the hall. Her closet was huge, but the longer Kent stood there, the worse things got.

He thumbed through the hangers, brow furrowing with each piece he pushed out of the way. Yawn and yawn again; these clothes shouldn’t be hers, won't ever be while Kent has a say. Conservative, bland, boring. Like work.

Kent sighed. There was no way he would spend the summer in these stiff button-ups. Throwing on something, anything really, he grabbed the car keys and headed out. The mall wouldn’t know what hit it. Nor would she. Her convertible roared to life, and Kent slammed on the accelerator.

He barreled down the road, wind ruffling through her hair, sun splashing on his face. It wasn’t work if it felt like freedom. It wasn’t punishment if he wanted it more than he could admit. The mall stood ahead, its doors wide open, crowds spilling out like the day had just begun.

Julie’s car tore into the parking lot, screeching to a stop in a parking spot. Kent jumped out, carelessly swinging Julie’s purse over his shoulder. Julie’s hips swayed as he walked, crossing the lot; he owned the place like he owned her body. Without a second thought, he cut in front of a family with strollers and disbelief on their faces. One kid gawked; one parent covered his eyes.

The sliding glass doors swept open, granting Kent and his big plans entry. He wasn’t sure in which direction he was heading, but the look he had in mind was already on his mind.

Bold. Hot. Fucking outrageous.

He entered a boutique, eyes narrowed as he searched for something to fit his agenda. Kent headed straight for the trendy section, ignoring the hushed chatter that followed him. “Don’t stare, dear. She’s probably famous.”

Julie would be if he had his way.

He skipped the boring racks, tossed aside anything too familiar, too conservative. He hadn’t come all this way to put her back in a button up. His focus landed on the kind of things that would give Julie an aneurism—on items he couldn’t wait to see stretch over her tits.

A sales assistant floated over. “Do you need—” She paused and glared at the mountain of tight fabrics he’d piled up. Her mouth hung open when he flung a shiny gold tube top over his shoulder. She blinked, recovered, and asked, “Uh, help?”

“I’ll need a changing room.” He cocked his head and tossed her a grin. “A big one.”

She hesitated, then directed him to a spacious stall. More space than he needed, maybe, but if so he’d fill it. He shut the door, shrugged out of the boring outfit Julie had on, and turned her attention to the haul he’d made. Nothing escaped the pile. It was a heftier heap than the one she’d left Kent with in the attic—and far better.

He wrestled with the first few garments—picks based on size alone. They stretched across Julie’s chest, elastic groaning in protest. The tighter, the better, and his grin widened with each outfit.

Next came the colors: neon and hot pink shirts, shorts, and shoes. Yellow tanks, orange fishnets, and purples that would match the bruises Kent would discover when he unleashed his old self from the attic.

Then he attacked the shortest skirts he could find: micro-skirts barely larger than the sweat rags he’d ditched the day before, still damp from his changing-room ordeal. The fabrics clung to her curves; the hues popped against her bronzed skin.

Kent adored it—more than he had at the pool, more than in the shower. He loved how his male form would probably pop a boner on the spot if he saw her now. He loved how the clerks tried not to stare, tried not to gasp.

Eyes followed him as he exited the fitting room. Did he care? No. He only cared how hot Julie looked.

Every outfit proved more obscene, more shocking than the last. Every look fed his thrill, fueled his impulse to shake off Julie’s shackles, to make her into what he wanted her to be—his own image, his own ideal.

He basked in the attention Julie’s body got him, and he twirled in front of the fitting room mirror, only to stop in his tracks. Buried beneath the mountain of fabrics, an outfit screamed at him.

A green fishnet crop top. A black micro-skirt. Heels so high, Kent couldn’t ignore them.

He slipped on each tight, skimpy piece of fabric, watching as each one stretched over Julie’s curves, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination. It was so wrong it was perfect. He loved every inch.

Neon green mesh stretched over Julie’s tits, her perky pink nipples visible under the bright lights of the dressing room. The skirt stopped just under the curve of her ass, and the straps of the black thong she was wearing peeked out just so, sitting snugly on her hips.

It was perfect.

The attendant raised an eyebrow at Kent’s choices when he emerged from the dressing room, hands neatly folded in front of her. “That is… daring,” she said, unsure but intrigued.

Kent smiled the same smile he’d used in the in the mirror earlier. It wasn’t his reflection in the mirror, not really. But it sure as hell felt like his victory.

“This? Oh, sweetheart. This is nothing.”

This time, the sales assistant didn’t blink. She just stared.

She handed him his bags after the purchase went through on Julie’s credit card, and Kent left the store in that outfit. He strutted through the mall, feeling eyes burn holes through Julie’s body. He soaked it up, swaggering in her skin, enjoying the attention she used to but never would get again.

It was incredible how much power he felt. How much more he felt when he was dressed like this. How much more he felt when he was her. Eyes followed him like never before, voices whispering in his head and behind his back: “I can’t believe she’s wearing that.”

Julie would have died. Kent was very much alive.

He strode across the upper level, swinging hips and shopping bags in equal measure. This wasn’t Julie’s walk. This was his strut, in her hips. Kent considered detouring for a movie—Julie’s credit card, popcorn, a summer blockbuster. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn’t.

Then he spotted the sign for his next conquest and giggled. He knew exactly what to do next.

Lingerie.

When he entered the lingerie boutique, the cute female attendant gulped and clutched her clipboard like a life raft. She shifted uncomfortably behind the register, her eyes not knowing where to land. Not on Kent, not on the half-dressed mannequins, and definitely not on the handcuffs hanging by the checkout. She fumbled a greeting, and he took advantage. He didn't need her help, but he wanted it.

“Something for your man?” she tried, glancing at his bags.

Kent spun, delighting in the breeze the micro-skirt left behind. “Who says I have one?”

The girl blushed. “It’s just... that’s a lot of stuff.”

Kent thumbed through the racks near the checkout counter, heels taunting every step the attendant took to avoid his gaze. He grinned, letting her sweat it out until she couldn't ignore him anymore. "I’ve never seen you—" She looked like she might regret the slip, and she did. "—in here. Before."

“It’s about time,” he said, stepping dangerously close. He held her gaze, watched as her cheeks continued to color, until she was as bright as a Valentine display.

“Do you need some help?” the girl asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Lots,” he replied, taking an innocent glance at his chest. “I’m not sure what size I am.”

“Oh!” She stepped out behind the counter with unsure footing. “We can figure that out.”

He followed her to the back, to the dressing room, watching her fumble with a measuring tape. “Can you please…” she said, trailing off as she asked him through gestures to lift up his excuse of a top.

Her hands trembled even more when he did, baring his tits to her so she could measure him, and Kent could barely keep a straight face.

He let her measure his bust, his waist, his hips, each number more impressive than the last. He tried on a lacy bra, then another, holding up the matching panties with glee.

“You have no idea how perfect these are,” he said, biting back laughter at how flustered she looked.

“Well, uh, good! I’m glad.”

“Let me get your number. You’re the only one who gets how to handle me.”

The pen slipped in her hand. He left with the slip of paper, a shopping bag full of sexy outfits, and enough of a head start that she wouldn’t see him ditch the pen and her good intentions in the trash outside.

Kent barely waited for the sex shop’s door to close. “Where are the nipple clamps?” he asked, going from zero to inappropriate before the sales clerk even looked up.

He looked around the shop, finding the mall’s usual shine missing, instead it was replaced by darker colours, and even darker lighting. He realized immediately that Julie would have walked past or sent her servant to pick up all he planned to buy. She would have been mortified, he was about to have the time of his life.

“Right side,” the man finally replied, and when his eyes met Julie’s, he almost blinked. Almost.

Kent flitted through aisles, grabbing more than he needed. The store wasn’t larger than a closet, yet it took Kent hours to complete his haul.

He spent most of that time laughing—more than he’d laughed at the pool, definitely more than in the attic. He ticked off his list: lube, check. Vibrators, check. Nipple clamps, check. Sizable dildo? Hell yeah. Maybe even an anal plug. God, this was perfect.

Kent imagined how furious Julie would have been if she saw this haul, how loud she’d scream when she discovered everything too late. He pictured her voice rising above even her shower-song.

The clerk reappeared with a pack of vibrating nipple clamps. “I’d recommend this model,” he said, looking a bit sheepish. Kent took them with a smirk. “Only if you think I can handle it,” he teased. “My boyfriend likes to get rough.”

The shop grew hotter and smaller; the clerk turned red and seemed to shrink. Kent hadn’t thought the walls could close in any more—but they did. The bags hanging off his arms crammed the space, stuffed with skimpy, trashy pieces Julie would surely toss out—pieces Kent couldn’t wait to drape around her.

When the clerk asked, voice quivering, “That all?” Kent met him with a grin.

“Nope,” he replied, setting some of the items on the counter. He held up the vibrator, and wiggled his eyebrows. “Batteries?”

The clerk had the register ringing with the speed of a man ready to see Kent leave. He bagged the purchases, and Kent wore a satisfied grin. He teased the clerk all the way out the door. The cat’s-got-cream strut, the sexy flick of the wrist.

Let everyone wonder; let everyone want him; let everyone try to keep up.

He headed back toward the food court, thinking it was high time for a snack.

At the food court, Kent licked the drop of condensation from his soda and let his eyes follow the swirl of colors. Teens darted between tables; families crowded the taco line; cash registers cha-chinged like slot machines, and that was when he spotted him.

Kent felt his jaw tighten—not from Julie’s body, not from clenching, but from holding back laughter. Marcus, the dipshit, was across the foodcourt. He was barely working, barely moving, definitely not getting his ass handed to him like Kent had.

Hm, an ice cream sounded perfect right about then.

The line in front of the counter was growing. Kent stayed locked in on Marcus, who seemed to liven up as more customers came up to him. A cone tumbled from the shelf, and Marcus lunged to catch it, eyes still fixed on the growing line.

“Working hard or hardly working?” Kent-as-Julie asked.

Marcus looked up, ice cream dripping. He studied Julie’s face, momentarily blank as he tried to keep his eyes up, then shrugged it off. “Well hey, gorgeous! What can I get ya?”

Kent tilted his chin toward Marcus. “Looks yummy.”

“Everything’s good. We’ve got a special on sundaes,” Marcus said, his eagerness blinding him to Kent’s trap.

Kent tapped a finger against Julie’s lips as if sampling a menu. “You seem pretty familiar with all the options.”

Marcus laughed. “Just about! Try the peanut butter fudge. It’s my favorite.”

“Of course it is.” Kent winked, watching Marcus hesitate, regroup. “It’s also the most fattening, isn’t it?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Only if you eat a lot of it.”

“I can see you do,” Kent replied, faux-sweet.

Marcus scratched his head, eyes dropping to Julie’s tits for a moment. Predictable. “Let me, uh, scoop you something else?”

“I like it when boys make the hard decisions for me.”

“Great! So, uh, which flavor?”

Marcus’s overconfident smile slipped as Kent leaned across the counter, chest forward, eyes wide. “Hmm. I’m actually in the mood for something hot. Got anything?”

Marcus coughed and adjusted himself covertly, but Kent saw. He knew exactly what that meant. “Uhhh… smoothies?” he offered, gesturing toward the menu.

“What is your recommendation for that?” Kent batted his eyelashes, savoring the flicker of uncertainty on Marcus's face.

Marcus shrugged as if clueless about smoothies and girls—though he was still less clueless than Kent had been when Julie caught him over her car. “Pretty good with mango, pretty sure with yogurt,” Marcus said. “Kinda on the cold side, though.”

Kent tilted his head. “Didn’t I say I wanted something hot?”

Marcus nearly choked. He stammered, then tried to mask it with a laugh. “Well, uh, it’s California. People like refreshing things in this heat.”

Kent grinned, all teeth and challenge. “I’m not most people. But do your best.”

Marcus smiled back, but a bead of sweat crept down the side of his face. He busied himself with the blender, trying to keep his eyes off Julie’s chest. He took his sweet time, preparing the smoothie with such care that he spilled half of it on the floor.

Kent couldn’t help but laugh—Julie’s laugh. It had taken less effort than working for Julie, less time than repaying his debt, and it felt more satisfying than both. He leaned on the counter as Marcus took another stab at the drink, muttering and chuckling under his breath.

When Marcus finally handed over the cup, Kent said, “Not quite what I asked for.”

Marcus asked, “Too cold?”

Kent lowered his voice. “Too smooth,” he said, letting the words hang. “I like things a little rough.”

Marcus stuttered out an apology, gripping the cash register with both hands. He glanced at the backup forming in the next stall. His line grew longer with every moment passing.

Marcus tried to recover. “What do I owe ya?” he said, halfhearted.

Kent tilted Julie’s head again. “Funny, you do owe me something.”

Marcus froze, panic flashing in his eyes before he plastered on a thin smile. “Julie?” he asked as if suddenly remembering who she was, who he thought she was.

Kent waved a hand, letting Marcus sweat it out. “This one’s on you,” he said, and Marcus cracked like ice cream under hot lights, on the verge of meltdown. Before Kent could strike again, a hand clamped onto Marcus’s shoulder.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” A man in his twenties, with a deep frown and a deeper tan, stepped up.

Marcus spun around, color draining. “Uh, hey, Steve. Just finishing up with—”

“Your break started ten minutes ago. I’ve got orders to fill.” Steve’s eyes darted between Marcus and Kent-as-Julie, as annoyed as the rest of the crowd. “Do you actually want to work here?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, sir,” Marcus stammered.

Kent almost laughed, slipping the straw into his mouth as Marcus fumbled, mortified.

Steve hauled Marcus away, leaving a coworker to man the counter. Marcus glanced back at Kent, desperation in his eyes.

“You. Break. Now.”

Marcus nodded, shoulders slumped, the dejected reluctance of a guy surrendering time, paycheck, dignity. “Uh, sorry. I mean, hold on.”

Kent grinned, whispered Julie’s sweet nothing as he withdrew. “I’ll come back another time. If you’re still here.” He turned on his heel and left. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, whispers and stares following him all the way out.

Kent burst into the open air, laughing harder than he had since the body swap. Marcus wasn’t the only one who could leave someone else holding the ball. He stashed his purchases in the car, tossed Julie’s purse into the front seat and headed home.

He had great plans for the rest of the day.

Julie’s tires melted into the road. Back home, he pulled into Julie’s driveway like it was any normal day, as if nothing was different.

His old body didn’t register the noise; Kent noticed it was still working. Nearly finished. Not finished enough to prevent him from setting up the next incident. He kicked off the heels, kicked off the mesh top, and kicked back while the AC took hold. Julie’s breasts fell to the side a little, still perky as he settled his hands behind his head.

Kent loved the feeling of her tits on his chest, loved how heavy, how full they felt. He absently brought a hand up, cupped the fullness of her breasts, squeezed, and let it rest there as he cooled off.

Then he kicked himself into gear, with new lingerie and new plans.

Julie’s bedroom transformed into Kent’s playground. Everything fell on her bed, and Kent tore into the outfits like Julie tore into him. He slipped into the tightest items first, staring at Julie’s hot body in the mirror. Her tits jiggled with every movement he made, and it was more apparent now than in the mall.

There he was too focused on the eyes that followed him everywhere he went. Here all he could focus on was the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips and her sweet pussy rubbing against the lace panties he was wearing. But these outfits didn’t do it for him. He had a great idea, and needed a very specific outfit.

Kent grabbed it with greedy fingers, pulling it out of the pile of clothes on the bed.

The lace body stocking was black and almost backless. Holes over her belly, breasts, and groin were suggestive, much like Kent’s plan. There was a tie behind her neck, and he did it up tight so Julie’s breasts sat nice and snug in the fabric. Not that they needed much help. The best part of the full body stocking was the holes that left her pussy bare, even her tight asshole. He had easy access to all the part that mattered.

Now, for the idea he had in mind.

Kent set up a video camera. He bit down a grin, pouted Julie’s lips, and hit record. “Here’s a little apology,” he whispered, already getting a kick out of it. In the same black heels he wore earlier, he danced, swayed with no one around to judge. He bent forward and grabbed her ankles, her asscheeks spread just enough for her sweet little pink hole to say hi to the camera. It was perfect.

He bounced on the spot, letting Julie’s round ass shake, twerking for the lens. The jiggle of her ass was intoxicating, her cheeks slapped against each other, and Kent knew he’d watch this over and over again.

It was hard to stop. He filled his—Julie’s—arms with the weight of her tits, pushing them together as his hips swayed. This? Better than working the lawn; better than working the mall; better than working at all.

When he spanked himself, the sound rang through the room. So did his laughter.

The video would drive her crazy.

If it didn’t drive him crazy first.

He spanked her ass again, watched, transfixed, as the fat jiggled and rippled. He spent a good minute just smacking her ass, sometimes with both hands, sometimes with just one, loving the sting and warmth after each slap. Julie’s cheeks grew rosy under the attention, and he wondered how long before they bruised up. He hoped it was soon. He posed, flexed, and blindly reached behind himself to grab the anal plug he threw on the bed earlier.

Kent forgot all about the video running, turned to the mirror, and lubed the plug with his spit, pushing it into his mouth at an obscene angle, sucking on it like a lollipop. It came out shiny, wet, and slick.

He moved it to Julie’s tight pink hole—still twitching from the spanking, fluttering open and closed like it wasn’t sure whether to submit or fight. He ran the plug’s tip in slow circles against her rim, teasing the entrance until she pulsed around nothing.

Kent exhaled. “You want it, don’t you?”

He pushed. Just the tip. The stretch hit instantly—a burn, a gasp, a deep internal squeeze. He stopped, let her adjust, pressed in again, just a little more. Julie’s ass swallowed the toy in inch by inch, her body sucking it in like it missed being full.

Kent’s mouth dropped open as her hole finally gave way, clenching once in protest, then again in welcome. The plug sank deeper, and he gave it one last nudge before the base kissed her cheeks.

He paused, panting. The mirror reflected everything.

Her asshole clenched around it, and he let out a long, satisfied moan.

He held still for a moment, savoring the fullness, the stretch, the heat.

Then he eased back onto the bed, legs spread wide, pussy on full display—slick, swollen, greedy for more.

Kent licked her lips, eager for more. Her body could take it; it could take everything. He had everything he needed. The thought rolled through his head, around her naked curves, and landed on the wand vibrator. He fumbled with the package and opened it with frantic hands. Before he turned it on, a wave of arousal rushed through him as the plug inside him kept shifting, and all Kent could think about was having Julie’s tits in his mouth.

He was greedy, and so was his new body. Kent pulled and squeezed Julie’s tits until they swelled against his lips. He pushed them up, together, so her nipples were within reach. He sucked them, fumbling to attach the clamps. He knew how wild he was making himself, how wet he’d be by the time the batteries ran out.

“This isn’t what you had in mind, is it?” he panted, like the real Julie would hear. “I love being you.” His dirty talk got louder. His moans did too. The vibrator jumped in his hand, then to her clit. It took less than a second.

He knew how to play her. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Is this how you planned it?” Kent asked the absent woman, voice cracking as heat burned through him. “You wanted me to sweat? Wanted me to beg?”

He turned on the nipple clamps. Julie’s body quivered and Kent smiled.

He moved the wand over her pussy, working it until it was a full, mad rush. It was already more than he thought he could stand, already more than he’d felt in his own body. He turned the vibration up. The vibrations rushed through his entire body, and it had arousal dripping into his core like warm honey.

It was insane how different the feeling seized him every time. Nothing like his male arousal. Not as raw. It spread slowly, a maddening burn that sat against his clit and urged him to do more, to go further, to climax in a way Kent never had before. It built up like a tidal wave: slow, high, impossible to contain.

“What would people think if they knew?” he said, but the rest of the sentence got away from him, swallowed by a rising moan.

He pushed the wand down and deeper, harder. The all the vibrations he felt made it to his core. To her core. To places he never dreamed.

He jerked the wand back and forth, gasps coming so fast he couldn’t keep up with them. He pushed at the boundaries, drove his touch further, faster. No chance to catch his breath, no time to think.

Kent ground against the vibrator, pushing back against the plug inside him. It was amazing, and Kent loved how it wasn’t any easier, how he had to work for an orgasm. The world was water and flesh and need. “Oh God, Julie. I love this,” he said, and wondered if she’d ever hear, ever know what it was like. The thought sent him closer, faster.

He teetered on the edge of climax, never wanting it to end, never wanting it to stop.

The vibrator whirred against him, and her voice cried out. “Yes yes yes, fuck!” Kent imagined the sound echoing all the way to the mall, then getting swallowed up by his own desperate shouts.

He pushed the wand tighter against Julie’s clit, moved it until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think of anything but how different this felt, how good it was. She was gone and Kent was all that remained, living in her flesh, moaning through her lips, climaxing like it was what she had planned for him all along.

“Ohhhhh fuck!”

The orgasm rippled through his whole world. Gushing from Julie’s pussy, it crashed over him, and he was left gasping, unable to do anything but feel.

Kent pushed the wand against her pussy again, riding the orgasm like his life depended on it. He was still shaking from the intensity of it all, still feeling the nipple clamps bite down on Julie’s nipples, still moaning. “You were wrong about me,” he said to Julie, who didn’t answer. “I could do this forever.”

Her body agreed, her body wanted it more. It could handle everything, handle every vibration, every touch. Kent drove the wand between Julie’s thighs, moved her hips forward, seeking more.

He closed his eyes, her eyes, and grinned as he thrust against the vibrator. He was soaked and wanting, and he barely registered when he slipped a hand between her legs. He let the vibrator work its magic; he let his fingers work his mind. More pressure, more sensation, more more more.

He let the vibrator pulse and jerk against Julie’s clit, too wet and hot to hold it steady, too eager to try. Kent didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to slow down. He was dizzy from the heat, and every inch of her body tingled under his command.

Kent pulled off the nipple clamps, moaning as the pain of each pinch drove him wilder. He squeezed a nipple, twisting it to feel more pain as his fingers slipped inside her. The vibration went through every part of him. Her. Us. The second orgasm built faster and stronger than he thought possible. It built so much that he wondered if he could take it, if Julie could take it.

But he was Kent, and Kent took it all.

A second orgasm exploded through him, and his moans filled the room.

“Fuuuuuuck!” It went on, went forever, gushing from her pussy in waves.

Her tits bounced as he rocked and moved and bucked against the wand. The newness of the body never let up. It made every vibration stronger, every gasp longer, every orgasm wetter than he could stand.

His breath came faster than it should, harder than it should. The plug inside her shifted, and he bit down on a moan, needing to rest more than ever. He was hot and sweaty and everything he never was as Kent. Everything he was glad to be now. Kent collapsed on her bed, panting, sweaty, used. She could never do this to him again, but he could do it a thousand more times to her.

He barely had the strength to smile. He caught his breath. It took longer than before, but Kent loved the challenge.

When he got off the bed, it was with the full intention to get off again. The bottled water in Julie’s fridge didn’t last long, but neither would she. He looked in the mirror, still in the skimpy outfit. He tugged it back into place, but left his tits hanging out of the fabric. Like this, he looked like a pornstar; he looked like a tramp. He loved every minute of it.

Kent went and checked on his old body.

It didn’t take long. Julie’s house felt smaller than his old life. He wondered how he’d ever fit in it, how his old self could ever stand it. He wondered if it could stand the orgasms he planned next.

Kent found his body adjoining rooms. No longer in the attic. The body was a bit more relaxed, a bit more unconscious where it slept. He should have been back sooner, should have caught his own slacking off. The nerve.

He liked seeing it like this. His male body seemed unaware of his new plot. Unaware and asleep.

Kent moved closer, squatted next to it. He ran Julie’s fingers over his own muscles, and the thrill of it rippled through her. How long would it last? How long could he keep this up?

He didn’t care to know, not yet, not now.

He let his male body sleep, and he let it dream. Kent, in Julie’s body, moved his hips forward, closer to the body. She was wet and wanting, and Kent knew his fingers were the perfect fit. Julie grabbed the wrist and tucked his own fingers right up her pussy. Kent couldn’t deal with taking things slow, not when he already stretched out Julie’s pussy with her own fingers.

It was surreal, knowing he was pushing his own fingers into Julie’s pussy. They stretched her wet hole while his male body lay there, still asleep. Still unaware of how far Kent had taken things. He moved her hips again, again, again. He was growing reckless; he was growing wild. Her tight pussy was dripping, and she was already back on the edge. He barely needed to touch her, barely needed to do anything.

He rode out a silent, thigh-shaking orgasm on his own fingers, grunting as her juices spilled all over his shorts.

A gasp later, fingers still tucked deep, his body stirred, and his old self opened its eyes. It caught him, Julie, in the act. Kent knew it would. He wanted it to.

His male body came alive, one small shift at a time. The nerve endings. The pulse. The mind. And when it did, Kent took control of everything.

“Get up,” Kent commanded.

It struggled, the way Kent struggled under Julie’s thumb. He laughed, that wild and new laugh he was still getting used to.

“Take it off,” he said, voice more certain than he remembered it. “The clothes. All of it.”

His body was already in motion before he finished, already a sweaty mess in cargo shorts and Kent’s old shirt. It moved like he used to, a little clumsy, a little too eager to please.

Kent slipped a hand between Julie’s legs and let the show begin.

He took control of her hips, let her pussy hover just above his male body’s reach. Its fingers stretched for him. For her.

Kent smirked. “You want this?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The clone nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Kent tilted her head. “Say yes, Mistress.”

The clone hesitated.

“You’re not talking to yourself,” Kent murmured, Julie’s own fingers teasing slow circles against Julie’s clit. “You’re talking to me. To her.”

The clone’s mouth worked silently for a second, like it had to force the words through. Then, finally: “Yes, Mistress.”

Kent smiled like sin. “Much better.”

He let her hips lower—just a hair—before pulling back again. “Beg.”

The clone’s hands clenched at his sides, jaw working like it wanted to protest. But it didn’t.

“Please,” it said quietly. “Please. I want you.”

Kent arched a brow. “To do what?”

“To touch me. To fuck me. Please, Mistress Julie.”

“Damn right,” Kent whispered, finally letting her hips drop.

Kent rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, letting Julie’s slick pussy glide against the clone’s cock without giving him the relief he wanted. He leaned forward—she leaned forward—pressing Julie’s breasts to his chest as she brought her mouth to his ear.

“Don't get too excited,” Kent whispered, her voice as sweet as honey. Her lips brushed his ear before her teeth grazed it. “You don’t have permission to come.”

The clone twitched beneath her, hips rising instinctively. Kent slammed her hand down on his chest, nails scraping skin.

“I said no,” he growled, low and dangerous. “You don’t do anything until I say so.”

The clone shuddered.

“You feel good?” she whispered again, nipping at his earlobe. “Of course you do. It’s me. It’s her. You’ve never had anything this perfect.”

She ground against him once more—slow, controlled, just enough friction to make him moan without mercy.

“But if you come without permission…” Kent’s voice dropped even lower. “I’ll leave you in the attic again. Limp and useless. Understand?”

The clone’s breath hitched. “Yes, Mistress Julie.”

Kent smiled and kissed his jaw, slow and mocking. “Good boy.”

Then he moved, letting his pussy get so close to his male body’s mouth. Her positioned his hips just above his lips, hovering over the open mouth, watching the tongue flick greedily at the glistening glaze between her legs. The clone whimpered, desperate to taste her, but Kent didn’t grant the mercy.

First, he pressed her slit to the tip of the clone’s nose, grinding gently, letting him inhale her scent. It was intoxicating. He was getting high off it, feeling it fuel his arousal like gasoline kissing open flame.

“That’s all you get for now,” Kent said, rolling her hips slowly, coating the bridge of his nose and upper lip with the wetness pooling from her. The clone shuddered and tried to rise, but Kent topped him easily, forcing her hips down in a way that made the clone’s mouth open, tongue stretching, straining for more.

“Greedy little thing,” Kent whispered, delighting in the way his old body responded to every command.

He rocked, savoring the clone’s helplessness, the desperation in his eyes. When at last Kent relented and lowered her pussy to the waiting tongue, the rush of sensation nearly buckled her knees. The hunger in his own eyes—the clone’s eyes—was matched only by the pure, unbridled greed in the way he lapped at Julie’s slick heat. Kent pressed down, smothering his face, grinding the fine bones of her stolen hips against his old jaw, letting him worship her. His old body was devoured her with greedy, desperate strokes.

“Fuck, Kent!” he said, playing the part of his old self, playing the part of his new self.

His old body moaned, muffled and struggling, and he loved that too. He let it worship him. He let it give him the attention he’d never get as a boy.

“Fuck, Julie!” Kent gasped, knowing he was both.

Arousal built again—Kent was soaked, breathless, aching for more.

Kent lowered himself, moving her pussy over its mouth, grinding against it. He reached behind, felt his own cock twitch, felt it strain, reach.

But Kent had other plans.

He always did.

Kent panted, shifting her hips to line up with his old body’s cock. It throbbed against her, eager. He lowered her slowly, guiding Julie’s hips with precision, letting the tip tease her slit, just barely splitting her lips. He relished the anticipation, the way her pussy fluttered and flexed around nothing, desperate for that first push, the moment of surrender.

When his cock was finally buried to the hilt, Kent rolled Julie’s hips, riding his old body with a fever that bordered on delirium. The first full thrust sent a bolt of sensation up Julie’s spine, igniting every nerve ending between her thighs. The feeling was nothing like Kent knew; it was softer, more encompassing, a rolling wave instead of a sharp, blunt punch. He could barely keep her hands off herself—squeezing, pinching, loving how full she felt, so full it made him want to cry. He bounced up, hands on Julie’s tits as they bounced with every thrust.

He grabbed the clone’s hands, guiding them to Julie’s breasts—soft, full, and bouncing beneath him. The pressure, the heat, the slick slide of skin on skin—Kent felt every bit of it, every inch of his pussy clenching down, every shocking pulse of pleasure as his G-spot was battered and worshipped. The clone’s hands were greedy and rough, just like Kent remembered being. The old Kent in the new Kent’s hands. A twisted loop of pleasure and need, and he got off on all of it.

Kent rode harder, squeezing Julie’s tits until her whole body shook. It couldn’t last—but he wouldn’t let it end. He didn’t want to stop. The thrill of fucking himself—of making himself work—was nearly as good as the sensation.

“Fuck!” he gasped again, pushing her harder against what used to be him.

He loved how close they both were—so close—but he wouldn’t let it happen.

He slowed, pulled off, savoring how easy it was to tease in Julie’s skin.

His old self tried to move, tried to get close again, but Kent was in charge. “Hold on,” he said. “Not yet.”

He shifted, the butt plug pressing against him, reminding him of how greedy his spirit was. Kent felt his male body twitch, felt it strain, felt it try to hold back. He got up, pussy aching, knowing she’d get what she wanted. Kent turned around, positioned Julie’s ass in the clone’s face, felt it moan and twitch as he reached back and pulled out the plug. He took it slow, loving the way Julie’s hole stretched for him. The base popped out, and he was open and exposed.

It didn’t last. He knew it wouldn’t. He slipped his male body’s dick into Julie’s tight pink hole, one of the things she didn’t let him touch until now. The one thing that wasn’t Kent’s.

It was now.

“Ahhhh!” he gasped as he lowered himself, felt her ass take it all.

He started to move, riding his male body in reverse, feeling Julie’s cheeks slap against its thighs. He loved the sound of it, loved the feeling of it, loved how loud it was in the room, in his head, in the universe.

His male body struggled, tried to move its hips to match his pace, but Kent was in control. It was tighter than he remembered. Julie’s ass clenched around it—he didn’t know if either of them could take it, but he planned on it.

“God, yes!” he shouted, losing himself, finding himself.

Kent loved how full she felt—how full of himself she was. He bounced, hands on his old body’s knees, leaving her tits free to jiggle and sway.

Beneath him, the clone let out a ragged groan. Its hands gripped Kent’s thighs, clenching tighter with every slam of her ass. Then—unprompted—it moved. One hand slid between Julie’s legs, fingers finding the slick mess Kent had made, circling her clit. The other crept lower.

Kent stiffened, startled, as the clone slipped two fingers inside him—inside her—and started to fuck him back. Greedy. Desperate. Controlled only by need.

The stretch felt divine. The pressure sent a shock through his spine. Her pussy clenched harder around the cock buried in her ass. He nearly cried out.

The clone worked faster, trying to coax the orgasm out of Kent like a man trying to earn mercy. Tired of begging, afraid to be denied again, it gave everything—every thrust, every curl of its fingers, every inch of effort.

Kent gasped. “You want it that bad?”

The clone didn’t speak. It just pushed deeper, curling up against that spot that made Kent see stars.

“Then make me come,” Kent said, breath catching. “And maybe I’ll let you.”

His male form was on the edge, and so was he. But Kent was in charge. He loved it more than the sensation, more than anything.

The heat inside Kent spiked, sharp and sudden, a shot of slick pleasure that flooded Kent’s mind and Julie’s body all at once. Sweat slicked her chest, slipping between her breasts in glistening rivulets. He let it roll. Let it pool. Let it shine.

More, he thought. More bounce. More heat.

He shifted her hips, changed the angle, so her ass hit harder and her tits bounced wilder. He chased the rhythm, feeling it crest. It was going to break. It was going to end. He didn’t want it to end.

Lick it. Taste it. Own it.

The command came from nowhere and everywhere—his mind, her nerves, their hunger.

Kent leaned in and ran her tongue slowly along her armpit, dragging it through the salty, glistening heat. The taste of sweat hit hard—raw, real, and salty. He groaned, loud and giddy.

Again.

Julie’s tongue licked a second time, slower, greedier. Kent felt everything. The musk. The salt. The fire under her skin. Fuck, that was good.

Her body shuddered and so did he. He laughed—sharp, wild, uncontainable. His old self couldn’t keep up. No one could.

He was becoming something else entirely. And he tasted it first on her skin.

Kent felt it crest—her moans and his blurring into one. Julie’s fingers rubbed against her clit, the clone’s cock was in her ass, and Kent felt it all. Worked her open, until everything broke.

“Fuuuck,” he gasped, as he finally gave the clone the one command it had been waiting for all along. “Come for me, Kent. Show me what I do best.”

The clone cried out—his old voice, warped by lust—and came hard, cock twitching deep inside her. Kent felt it. Felt everything. The stretch, the pulse, the slick rush between her thighs as Julie’s body came undone.

He rode the wave until it blurred to white.

Breathless, spent, triumphant, Kent collapsed in her skin. The clone twitched beneath him, drained and obedient.

Kent just smiled. This wasn’t punishment. It was freedom.

He would stay like this. Maybe all summer. Maybe forever.

Julie’s body was his now—everything he dreamed, everything she feared.

The room was too hot. Too perfect. But Kent had time.

He had all the time in the world.