Wishes Do Come True [A Transgender Bimbo Story] (Patreon)

For TemplarKnight

By TheSpiralledEye

Joel has a secret: she’s a trans woman hiding her true self from her macho friends. When she happens upon a lamp, the genie inside expects yet another round of selfish wishes. Instead, Joel wishes to become the woman she was always meant to be, and in the process, frees the genie. But magic always comes with a price. Joel, now Britta, faces a life with two handsome husbands and a much lower IQ. She must learn to navigate this new existence, all while memories of her old life slip away. 

~

There are plenty of good ways to spend a warm Saturday afternoon; riffling through an attic was not one of them. It wasn't even his attic, but extensive research had told Joel that helping a buddy move was just something guys did. He figured a buddy's aunt counted. 

So here he was, sweating through his shirt in a dead woman’s attic, digging through boxes of old photos and moth-eaten linens while Mike and the rest of their little group sat on the couch drinking beer like they’d already finished the job.

“Dude, you find anything cursed up there?” Mike called from downstairs. 

Joel forced a grin, held up a dusty porcelain clown doll and held it over the hole in the floor. “Only this nightmare.”

The guys howled, slapping their knees like it was the funniest thing in the world. Mike winked at him. 

“You’re a freak, man.”

There was an edge to his comment, and Joel reminded himself that friendly ribbing is what guys do. And he was a guy, at least while he was here. So Joel laughed too. 

It was always like this. Mike needed help moving something? Joel showed up. Mike needed someone to be the butt of a joke? Joel was there. The others barely remembered his name, but they liked him well enough. He was easy. Quiet. A good guy. Part of the crew. One of the guys. 

And this particular group of guys was perfect for him, mostly because they were selfish. Which, yes, meant he spent his afternoons moving furniture while they sat on the couch, but it also meant they didn’t look at him too closely. They didn’t see the way he flinched at his own reflection sometimes, or how he chaffed at tight-fitting clothes because they showed off the shape of his body. They didn’t notice how carefully he copied their slang, their gestures, their boredom. They never asked. They didn’t care. That was the point.

“Game starts at four,” one of the guys shouted as he came down the ladder with yet another box. “You’re staying, right?”

Joel nodded before they could look at him too long. “Hell yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”

He hated football. Always had. The yelling, the blind loyalty, the way most men made it their entire personality. It felt like a language he was supposed to speak but never quite understood. But it kept him close to people like Mike; it made him look normal. Because sometimes surviving meant being exactly who everyone thought you were, even if it made you disappear. He hauled another three boxes down before Mike spoke up again. 

“You almost done, man? It’s almost time for us to go if we wanna make the game.”

“Well, your aunt had a lot of stuff,” Joel said quietly. “If you three could help me, we’d be done a lot faster.”

“Joel, Joel, Joel…” Mike put a muscled arm around his shoulders. “We are helping! We know you’re the most… strength-challenged member of our little group, so we gave you the easy job!”

“Hauling boxes from the attic down two flights of stairs to a van is the easy job?” 

“We’re moving the furniture! That’s the real heavy lifting, all you have to do is move all the little bits and bobs.” Mike argued.

Joel wanted to point out that ‘all the little bits and bobs’ encompassed all of his aunt's belongings, from clothes and silverware to books and lamps, which left Mike and the other three with a couch, a table and half a dozen smaller bits of furniture to move, but he didn’t. He needed them around. They were the only friends he really had. The only acceptable ones anyway. 

Joel didn’t have many guy friends; never had. He’d always fit in better with women for reasons that escaped him, right up until a few years ago when a weed-filled evening had caused a revelation that turned his entire life upside down. 

A crash from outside made Joel jump, and Mike laughed. “I swear, man. You’re like a jumpy little rabbit sometimes.”

Joel forced a laugh and rushed outside to see that several of the boxes he’d meticulously packed up were now open, and the other three members of their group: Tom, Jim and Brandon, were riffling through them.

“So we can take anything we like, right?” Brandon asked Mike, who nodded.

“Of course, man. Why do you think I volunteered to help clean out the apartment after the old broad's death?”

“Sweet, then I want the jewellery. Bet I can sell it for a pretty penny.” Brandon grinned before turning to Joel. “Hey, could you help me get all this back in the box? I don't know how you made it all fit.”

Joel just sighed and started repacking while the others riffled through and divided up the various things they found to sell. It felt a little ghoulish, going through a dead woman's things, deciding what was trash or treasure based on how expensive it seemed. Some of this stuff probably had a story attached to it or sentimental value. Joel winced as Tom tossed a bunch of cheap porcelain figures into the trash box without a care in the world. They looked old and worn; maybe they had been his aunt's toys when she was a little girl. Who knows? The others didn’t seem to care. 

A flash of blue caught his eye, and Joel looked up to see a woman walking down the street. She was wearing a tight-fitting floral dress. She was all curves, no straight edges, and Joel felt mesmerised. He looked at her body with envy, and Mike elbowed him. 

“Don't stare, man. You’ll get slapped. Your eyes are bigger than your cock, you’d never have a shot with a woman like that.” Mike held up his hands defensively. “Not being mean, just helping you to manage your expectations, like a good mate should.”

“Thanks.” Joel forced his eyes down and away, thank god Mike was dense as a brick, or he might have realised it wasn’t lust that made him stare. 

“Hey, Joel! I found something for you!”

He turned, and Jim dropped an old oil lamp into his open hands. 

“You love this deco boomer shit, right, dweeb?” He grinned, “It’s perfect for you.”

“I’m not a dweeb,” Joel muttered, not meeting the much taller man’s eyes. Jim just laughed and noogied his skull.

“I’m just teasing, don't be so sensitive, you girl.”

Joel barely managed to stop himself from flinching. His hands curled around the lamp, and he forced a smile. Which, of course, fooled Jim, who went back to picking over the boxes, leaving Joel with the lamp. It looked old, it was certainly dirty, which was odd, considering everything else in Mike’s aunt’s home was so neat. He didn't really want it, but then he saw Mike toss a book across the lawn, tearing the cover from the pages, and he changed his mind. 

“I didn't know you, ma’am.” He whispered, “But I am going to make sure at least one of your things gets treated with respect.”

“Hey! Joel! Stop talking to lamps and help us pack all this stuff up!” Mike yelled, “We have a game to get to!”

“Of course!” Joel replied, smiling in a way that didn't meet his eyes, “I’d hate to miss it.”

~

Joel kicked off his shoes and sagged back against the door of his apartment with relief. It was over. The game went into overtime, and he’d been forced to sit on Mike’s couch pretending to be invested for an extra thirty agonising minutes. His mouth still tasted of beer, and he grimaced, heading straight to the kitchen and pouring himself a hot cup of herbal tea. He kept the bags hidden at the back of the pantry, where the purple, lavender-printed box was safely hidden behind cans of protein powder he never actually used. The last time he’d made the mistake of keeping it somewhere obvious, his father had accused him of being gay. 

The truth was so much worse. 

At least, his father would think so because Joel wasn't really a ‘he’ at all, even if he was too scared to refer to himself as ‘she’ just yet. Joel took a sip of his tea and sighed in relief as it washed away the bitter taste of beer on his tongue. God, he hated that stuff; it didn't even make sense. Why a weak, foul-tasting alcohol was considered a man's drink over a bunch of fruit juice mixed with hard spirit, he would never understand. At least the cocktails tasted good. He’d always watch the girls at bars with envy as they sipped on cosmopolitans and mai tais. Lucky for him, the guys just thought he was lusting after the women, not their drinks. 

Joel had no idea how he’d ended up this way; he’d been raised in a traditional family. Women did the cooking and cleaning, his dad worked and instilled in all his sons the importance of their masculinity. He’d done all the same thing his macho brothers had: football, wrestling, woodshop, but none of it had ever made him feel manly. All it did was make him feel out of place among his peers. His father had never let him forget it. 

A buzz on the bench made Joel look up from his tea; his phone was ringing; speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Dad.” He answered. 

“Son! How’s my boy? Did you catch the game?”

Joel grit his teeth; his father was so transparent it hurt. He felt the need to constantly check up on him, make sure his weakest, most effeminate son wasn’t catching ‘the gay’. 

“Yeah, Dad. I saw what a nailbiter, huh?”

“Did you watch it with any friends?”

“Mike and the guys.”

“Great! I like Mike a lot better than your old crowd. You’re too old to be hanging out with a bunch of women, unless of course you’re after a date.”

Joel half wanted to yell that his old friends Amelia and Lacey had been much more fun to hang out with. But he knew there was no point. His father was convinced that men and women could only ever be around each other for one reason. Men and women were not ‘friends’, not unless you were a weak little pansy. 

Joel sighed; maybe he was a pansy. If he could just…learn to like all this manly stuff, perhaps he could be happy, and these confusing feelings about his body would go away. Maybe he could stop staring at himself in the mirror and imagining soft curves on his chest with such longing. Deep down, he knew it would never happen; he would always feel this way. But there wasn’t another option; he couldn’t come out as trans, not with his father and friends like Mike. So this was his fate; there was nothing he could do about it. 

~

Joel slept poorly; he dreamt of strange, busty women with blue skin dancing around the dirty old lamp he’d found. So when he got a text from Mike saying the boys were meeting to go to some basketball game, he groaned. Wasn’t one sport enough?

Joel grit his teeth and looked down at the phone screen. He just… couldn't put up a front today, not to mention tickets weren’t cheap, and his account was getting dangerously low. He typed a quick message about having the flu and throwing up everywhere, making sure to detail things enough that Mike and the others couldn’t call him a pussy, like they had the last time he’d had a cold. Men don't let sickness get them down after all. 

He sighed in relief and flopped down on the couch to stare at the ceiling. This was it; a fake, lonely life pretending to be something he wasn’t, working a job he hated so he could spend his free time with guys he hated almost as much. Just to keep up the pretence of being a man. 

His eyes found the lamp he’d taken from Mike’s aunt's place. He turned it over in his hands curiously. It could be quite nice if it were cleaned. He grabbed an old dish rag and started working the grime off the edge, polishing the metal until it gleamed. It was quiet, calming work that set his nerves at ease. There was something so relaxing about fixing an object. When it was finally polished and gleaming, he set it down on the table and admired his work; the brass shone almost as bright as gold, and he could make out intricate carvings around the base that had been hidden by years' worth of dust and grime. 

“Maybe I could sell it…” He mumbled, immediately deciding against it, recalling how greedy the others had been yesterday. “No, sorry, that was rude, I promised I’d keep one thing of yours, didn’t I?”

The lamp warmed under his fingers, and Joel gasped. A ghost? Was he about to meet Mike’s aunt? Would she know all the awful things he thought about her nephew? Would she curse him for it? The lamp continued to heat in his palms until he was forced to place it down on the kitchen bench. As he did so, blue smoke spiralled from the tip, twisting around in the air until it formed the shape of a woman, then solidified. 

The figure floated in mid air for a moment: blue-skinned, dressed in a beaded bra and loose silk pants, a veil across her face. Her eyes were bright orange, and her long dark hair was held in a high ponytail. Despite the odd skin and eyes, she looked beautiful, and Joel’s eyes flicked jealously to her full figure. 

“Another red-blooded male had found my lamp, it seems.” The woman said scathingly. Joel blushed; he’d never had anybody call him that before. “If you can stop looking at my breasts long enough to listen, we can get this over with.”

“Get this over with?” He blinked. 

“What's the matter, kid, you never watch Aladdin or something?” She scoffed, “I’m a genie. Duh. Lamp, smoke, magic, three wishes, ringing any bells?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” he stammered awkwardly. “It’s just I didn’t think you were…”

“Real?” The genie rolled her eyes. “Look, I have been granting wishes for millennia, I’m over the whole ‘oh my god magic is real’ schtick. So, can you hurry up, make your selfish wishes, and I can go back to sleep until the next selfish person comes along.”

“I’m not selfish,” Joel said quietly. “At least, I don’t think so…”

“Whatever, wishes, come on.”

This was so surreal; he was experiencing the most incredible thing in his entire life, and the genie didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she seemed to disdain everything. He looked at her wrist, taking in the thick, silver bracelets there, and his brow furrowed.

“Are those like…you manacles?”

“Yes, obviously.” She sighed. “Wishes, I am not here for conversation.”

“So you don’t have a choice? At all?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. But what are you going to do about it?” She snarked and snapped her fingers, “I swear if you waste one more minute of my time, I am going back into that lamp until you figure your shit out, just so I don’t have to listen to you babble anymore.”

Joel winced; if she really was a prisoner of the lamp, that was probably an empty threat. From what he understood, genies had to obey their masters until they used all three wishes. Sort of like how he had to obey his dad and Mike just to fit in without shame. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

“For my first wish, I want to always be financially comfortable-”

“Classic riches coming right up. Never heard that one before.”

“And my descendants.”

“Huh?” The genie paused. “You want so much money all your descendants will also be rich?”

“Not rich, just…comfortable.” He smiled softly. “I don’t need a mansion or anything, just enough to live comfortably, have a night out at a nice restaurant and not have to work anymore. Like…that universal basic income level of comfy. For me, and for any kids I might one day have. If I ever somehow manage to have a family, I want them all to be taken care of.”

For the first time since she popped out of the lamp, the genie smiled genuinely. 

“For my second wish.” Joel took a deep breath. “I wish to be a woman. And I wish that I’d always been a woman, so that nobody could judge me for wanting it. I want to be curvy and beautiful and finally feel comfortable in my clothes.” 

The genie’s eyes softened slightly, and she looked him up and down. Joel could feel her taking in the slight hunch he always had, the awkward way he stood and itched at his jeans. Then she said, softly:

“I think I can manage that. And the final wish?”

“I wish for you to be free.”

The genie coughed, and her eyes went wide.

“What?”

“I want you to be free,” Joel repeated.

“But…why? We only met a minute ago, and I spent most of that minute insulting and trying to rush you!”

Joel shuffled awkwardly. “I know what it feels like to be trapped in a life you don’t want…and you’ve been stuck in that lamp, making other people happy for millennia. It seems unfair. The least I can do is let you go.”

The genie woman bit her lip and tears welled in her orange eyes. 

“Oh no, did I upset you?” Joel asked, “Is that like, a rude thing to do for a genie?”

“No, no, it’s wonderful, and so kind.” The genie said, taking both his hands in hers. “Thank you, truly. I am crying because I feel guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“I’m a genie, darling.” She laughed, wiping her eyes. “I have to grant wishes but there is always a catch.”

Joel’s breath hitched; a catch?

“You’re the first person I've met to make any sort of selfless wish; it feels wrong to give you a monkey paw situation.” She chewed her lip, “But it has to be done. So I will do my best to grant your wishes in a way that will pain you the least.”

“Will I still get to be a woman?” He blurted out. “Please, that’s really what I want. Obviously, I won't take away my wish for your freedom, but if you could just make me a woman, please.”

“I will.” The genie smiled, “Now, let’s make those wishes come true.”

She snapped her fingers, and Joel felt a little jolt run down his spine, like static electricity. It spread all through his body; across his skin, over his bones, through his blood. He could feel magic tingling everywhere, and soon, his body began to change. 

Excitement bubbled up in his chest, and Joel let out a squeak; it was really happening! 

It began with his hands. His fingers tingled and grew slender, bones seeming to reshape as his skin softened subtly. His nails lengthened, their beds becoming smoother, no more hangnails. In fact, they looked almost glossy, like he'd had a manicure. He'd always wanted one of those! He lifted his hands in front of his face and gasped softly. It was such a small change, but it made a world of difference. The sensation crept up his arms like warm water, and his excitement only grew.

His forearms lost their angles, the muscle subtly redistributing so that he wasn't so gangly anymore. Hair withdrew into the skin, making his skin seem even smoother to the touch. Shoulders narrowed and sloped as the magic swept upwards, and his collarbones drew in delicately, causing his posture to shift. He could feel the pressure in his spine adjusting, and his centre of gravity shifted with it. His hunch was gone, and his head naturally held high; the pose felt alien, but right. 

Then, finally, his chest. The thing he had fantasised about every night for years. 

A tightness formed in his sternum, then the pressure blossomed outward in a slow, insistent wave. He gasped again, tears of joy pricking his eyes as he looked down to watch. He felt the weight gather, pull, and settle: breasts forming beneath the surface of his skin, sensitive and round. His nipples hardened instantly with the new awareness, a shiver rolling through him as sensation sparked to life in places he’d never had before. The breasts swelled, growing steadily in cup size until he could no longer see his toes. He'd wished for curves, but never in his wildest dreams had Joel thought he would be lucky enough to be this womanly. 

A soft moan escaped his lips, and Joel realised his voice was higher already and subtly shifting in pitch. His neck tingled as it grew more slender, and his jawline rounded. His nose refined, his face softened, and his cheekbones lifted ever so slightly. His hands went to his face, and he felt the skin shifting. A delicate finger brushed over his brows and felt them thin into graceful arcs. The tears that had built up under his long lashes started to fall. 

“I’m beautiful,” he whispered, or she whispered. "I'm a woman, finally a woman. For once, I can't wait to find a mirror"

The magic flowed over her skull, and she felt the hair there begin to grow. It washed down her back like water in long, golden blonde waves that caught the light. No more boring brown that he was forced to cut short. Joel giggled in anticipation. With hair this long he’d be able to do all kinds of fun things. 

The warmth pooled in her abdomen next, more concentrated now. Her waist cinched in sharply, and her hips flared in response. Joel could feel her pelvis shifting and realigning beneath her flesh. Her thighs filled out, yet more gentle curves for her to love, and the backs of her legs softened.

Then came the most intimate transformation, the part she had always been the most curious about.

The magic surged downward, wrapping around her groin and making her shudder. There was no pain, only pressure and pleasure as the magic reshaped the most secret parts of her. Her awareness dimmed, and for a moment, all she could think of was the sensation between her legs. Of the cock and balls she never wanted disappearing to be replaced with something much softer. It was euphoric, almost orgasmic.

Joel leaned forward on her knees and groaned, feeling her butt slowly expand to fit her new, wide hips. No more flat, empty jeans, now she would really fill them out! Her eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, it was just her and the sensation of her new body. The magic suddenly flared outwards, seeping out of her skin and into her clothes. The boring, loose pyjamas she’d been dressed in disappeared entirely, melting into soft light before reforming into a silk nightgown, complete with a lace edge around the hem and bust. She could see her new breasts even more clearly, and her new, ample cleavage as they hung heavily from her chest. 

Her skin prickled as she finally stood straight and the magic finalised its work, flowing over her and adding the final touches: a soft layer of body fat in the right places, delicate curves, the final balancing of weight until she was complete. 

She opened her eyes fully, breath trembling, her new chest rising and falling, and with each breath, she felt the new weight there. She looked down at them with wonder and ran a gentle hand over the curve of them, memorising the shape. They were soft and sensitive, the lace trim around her new nightgown tickled her skin, and she could feel their weight fully without a bra for support. 

“Thank you.” She whispered, tears in her eyes. “Truly, thank you. You have more than earned your freedom.” 

The genie held up her wrists and let out a shaky breath as her silver manacles disappeared. She rubbed the skin there; it was a lighter shade of blue than the rest of her, and for a moment, she traced the line on her skin. Perhaps remembering all the years that had been taken from her. Joel beamed; she was glad. She had everything she’d ever wanted, and the genie was free now, too. For a moment, the magical woman smiled, but then, fixed Joel with a sad, tired look.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

“Like, why not?” Joel asked, then giggled for reasons that escaped her. 

“Like I explained before, these wishes always have a catch; this is yours.”

The world swirled around her, tiny apartment morphing into a grand, stately house. She gasped in delight, taking in the shiny marble floors and gilded staircase. Artwork in golden frames decorated the walls, and the windows were three times her size. The view outside wasn't the smog-filled city, but a palatial estate, complete with rosebushes and a fountain in the centre of the round driveway.

“I said comfortable, not rich, you didn’t have to give me all this.” She pouted, “How is this a catch?”

“Oh, Britta, sweetheart, this is just the beginning.”

Britta. The name fell into her skull like a stone. Yes, that was her name, wasn’t it? All of a sudden, Britta realised she couldn’t remember her old name at all. That was odd. Her brow furrowed and her lips pouted as she strained her brain, trying to think of her old deadname, but no matter what she tried, it wouldn’t come. 

“Why can’t I remember my old name?” She blinked innocently. 

“A bit of amnesia, I’m afraid.”

“Amnesia…?” The word was like a black hole in her mind; she couldn’t think of the meaning. Then, it came to her.

“Like memory loss? Why do I have memory loss?”

It was like her mind was melting into soup. Britta could feel her thoughts simplifying and slowing down. It was like her brain was unfocusing; she saw and heard everything but it took a second of thought to really understand what was going on around her, like the genie speaking. 

“You’re going to be comfortable and female for the rest of your days.” The genie explained, “And you will definitely have descendants, because you’re married.”

“M-married?”

“Yes, and a good thing too because you’re dumb as rocks now, darling.” The genie gave her a sympathetic look. “Sorry, my magic always has its catches. I can’t help it, but don’t worry. You’re going to be so happy here with your new bimbo body and brain and two strapping husbands to take care of you.”

“Two…”

Britta was in shock. As the genie spoke, she remembered them, though: Jamal and Angelo. Two frat brothers whom she’d met back in her wild party days. They’d both fallen head over heels, and she was such a sweetie she couldn’t pick and break one's heart, so they decided to share. A dreamy smile formed on her face as she thought about them, her handsome, sexy husbands. As that memory entered her head, she was vaguely aware of another one leaving. A memory of her old life, gone forever. 

“Wait, so I like, won’t remember my old life at all?”

The genie shook her head, and Brita was briefly distracted watching her long ponytail swing back and forth. Britta pressed a finger to her soft lips in thought.

“You know, I think I am okay with that!” She giggled, “I mean, I had a pretty sad life. It’s not like I wanna remember being a man.”

“You’re not mad?” The genie blinked in surprise. 

“Nah, like you said, it wasn't your fault! You can't help it, and this life is totally cool!” Britta slipped her arm through the genie's and gave her a little hug. “I could totally kiss you, I finally get to be a girl!”

The genie just smiled and shook her head in disbelief.

“Alright, well, you have about a week before your old life disappears from your mind for good. Enjoy those memories while they last. I’d better get going.”

“Byeeeee!” Britta waved, bouncing on her toes. “Thanks again, babe!”

The genie gave her a wink, then snapped her fingers, and she was gone. Leaving Britta alone in her new home and her new body. Feeling like she was still in a sort of trance-like state, she moved toward the mirror in the bathroom, surprised to find she knew the way. For a moment, she held her breath, afraid the mirror would show the same face it always had, but it didn't. 

There, staring back at her, was a woman. A truly stunning woman; soft features, large expressive eyes, large breasts, a tight-fitting dress. She reached up and touched her lips, now fuller and pinker than before. What might they feel like against somebody else's, she wondered. 

In the reflection, she twirled once, marvelling at the way her hips moved, the natural sway, the weight of her breasts following the motion. The air on her skin felt erotic in an entirely new way. Every nerve ending seemed to have been reborn. 

A car horn blared, and a grin formed across her lips: Jamal and Angelo were home! She felt a flush of heat rise between her legs; unexpected but welcome. A slow grin tugged at her lips. With a spring in her step that she’d never experienced before, she skipped down the hall, ready to greet her beaus. Her new breasts bounced with the movement, completely unsupported in her braless outfit. She felt her hips sway with every step, and the sensation made her giggle. By the time she reached the front door, she was beaming ear to ear and tingling all over. 

The front door opened and in stepped her husbands. Jamal was the tallest of the pair; broad-shouldered, with short-cropped, dark curly hair to match his dark complexion. Despite his muscular, athletic build, it was his eyes that Britta loved most, soft and warm. He may have looked scary, but deep down, he was a gentle giant. Angelo’s build was slimmer; the quintessential charming businessman; his skin was a shade lighter than Angelo’s but his hair was silky, black as midnight, and left just long enough to slick back. 

The pair of them smiled as she approached, and Jamal lifted her effortlessly into the air, twirling her around so that her long blond hair followed behind. 

“Our darling!” He smiled, “Still in your pyjamas? It’s almost lunch time.”

“I wanted to give you both a proper greeting.” She giggled as Angelo gave her a peck on the cheek. 

The light kiss lit a fire under her, and she immediately turned to capture his lips with her own. It was like nothing she’d ever felt, at least not in her old life. Even though she had always been trans, Britta hadn’t thought much about kissing men, or given much thought at all to her sexuality. Here and now, with her womanly body, she knew for certain she was straight, especially for her husbands. 

Angelo moaned into her mouth, and Britta swallowed the sound greedily, pulling him close, only to feel a warm body at her back. She was sandwiched between her husbands, and she shuddered; never in her life had she felt so at home. Angelo lowered his head to kiss along her exposed shoulders and neck, and Britta whimpered; that heat between her legs grew steadily. 

“We came home for lunch, but I suppose we could eat you instead.” Jamal rumbled. 

“Oh my God, yes.” Britta shivered. She was eager to test out her new pussy, and it was already dripping. 

Angelo’s fingers slipped beneath her short hem and pressed against her panties, making Britta see stars. 

“She’s wet for us, Jamal.”

“Isn’t she always?”

“We’d better clean up or we’ll slide right out.” 

Jamal spun her, then lifted his wife effortlessly in his arms and carried her toward the bedroom. Britta giggled girlishly and wrapped her arms around his neck; she was so horny and excited. This was a normal day for her husbands, but in a way, it was still Britta’s first day as her new self. She didn't have all the memories yet; she was still more…whatever his name was, than ‘Britta’. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to be fucked as a woman. And the knowledge that these men were essentially about to take her virginity filled her with anticipation. 

“You’re shaking, baby,” Jamal teased, “You need us that bad?”

“I think so.” She moaned, pulling herself closer to kiss at her husband’s neck. “Mmmm…”

He placed her down on the bed, but then, to her shock and dismay, stepped back to sit in the armchair facing the bed with an expectant smile on his face. Angelo followed them in and loosened his tie, throwing it across the room before kneeling down at the foot of the bed.

Right between her knees. 

“Time for lunch.” He grinned, reaching up, under her skirt and gripping her panties. 

Britta could only whimper with need and obediently lifted her hips so he could pull the soaked fabric away. She gasped as cold air hit her bare folds and the wetness started to seep into the bedsheets as Angelo threw the panties across the room to join his tie. 

Britta’s chest was heaving as she lay back, her breasts too large to see past when flat on her back; she had only her sense of touch to rely on. She felt Angela slip his hands beneath her ass and pulled her to the edge of the bed, then his hot breath against her folds. Behind him, Jamal gave a satisfied grunt as he watched. And then, she felt his tongue part her. 

“Oh! Oh, Angelo!” She moaned, “That’s…that’s-!”

She didn’t have words. She felt his tongue curl over her clit, and he began to lick slowly, up and down, pressing the tip to her clit, and hole in turn. With each stroke of his tongue, Britta felt her mind growing empty; memories of what it felt like to have a cock faded, replaced only with the pleasure that was now between her legs. Her IQ seemed to be melting away even further; she couldn’t speak, only moan, as all her mental energy was focused on Angelo’s tongue. 

A finger pressed at her hole, slipping in to the first knuckle as Angelo began to suck on her clit. Her body shuddered as pleasure forked through her like lightning, forcing her back to arch. Angelo increased his speed, sucking her clit while pressing his finger deeper inside her wet passage until it curled over her G-spot. 

Just like that, everything turned to pure ecstasy. Britta’s hips began to rock, and she fucked herself against his fingers and mouth. Angelo braced one hand against her hips, pinning her in place as his mercy as he continued to feast on her, moaning all the while. 

Then, the hand disappeared and she realised he was pleasuring himself as well. She could feel his body shaking as he pumped himself and groaned. Britta could feel the vibration of his moans inside her, and that was all it took. She fell over the edge with a loud cry, gripping the bed sheets to keep herself from writhing away. Angelo shuddered against her pussy, and they both stilled as he pulled away. 

Britta gasped for breath, staring blankly at the ceiling as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened. She’d had her very first orgasm as a woman, and she felt her old self being washed away with the wave of pleasure. She felt almost dizzy as she sat herself up to see Angelo cleaning himself up, and Jamal now naked in the chair. His cock was hard, standing erect and waiting for her. 

Without a word, she got up, legs trembling from the strength of her last orgasm, and she stumbled to him. Jamal’s arms were open, and he welcomed her onto his lap, positioning her above his cock. Britta paused for just a moment as a flash of fear washed over her. She’d never fucked a man before, at least, not that she ever remembered. One finger had felt so amazing. Would a cock overwhelm her? She wasn't sure she was ready. But then Jamal’s hands cupped her face, and those warm brown eyes met hers.

“Ready for me to make you feel good, baby?” He whispered, and Britta nodded as heat flared between her legs. 

His hands moved to her hips, and then he gently lowered her down his shaft. It was thick and long. It stretched her wide, and Britta felt her mouth open wide.

“Oh…Oh…”

“I know, I’m a bit big for you baby, but don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

He was so gentle, so loving, it almost moved Britta to tears. Nobody had ever looked at her with such adoration before, certainly not during sex. When he was fully sheathed, she spent a moment just appreciating how good it felt to be so full, and then, her instincts took over. She began to rise and fall, slowly, letting her body adjust to the girth inside her. Her breasts bounced as she started to ride harder, and she blushed, listening to the skin slapping against skin. 

Then, Angelo appeared at her back and reached around to cup them as she continued to fuck Jamal. His fingers found her nipples and tweaked them, and she wailed. It felt so good that she couldn’t take it slow anymore. She started to bounce on Jamal’s cock, rising all the way up to the tip before slamming back down. 

“She’s getting close.” Jamal groaned, “She’s squeezing me so tight!”

“Come on, baby,” Angelo whispered, tweaking her nipples again before massaging the delicate curves. “Cum for us again.”

“Oh! Oh! OH!”

She had no words; she was at the mercy of her body’s needs. The ecstasy was building, growing slower this time as her body coiled tighter and tighter until the pleasure hit all at once. She came with a scream as Angelo played with her breasts. Her body clenched around Jamal’s cock and milked him for all he was worth until she felt him cumming deep inside her, and still, she didn’t. She kept bouncing, riding him until he softened inside her and she shuddered. Jamal chuckled.

“Aw, she wore herself out.”

“Poor thing.”

Angelo gently helped her, picking her up bridal style and carrying her to the bed. She was still in nothing but her nightgown, and she yawned lazily, stretching out over the silk sheets. There was a beeping sound, and Angelo laughed.

“We have to head back to the office.”

“Sorry for stealing your lunch break.” Britta sighed, not feeling the least bit sorry. 

Her husbands just chuckled and came to lie on either side of her. She turned and took turns kissing them both before they were forced to get up. Britta tried to help Angelo with his ties, but just could not for the life of her remember how to tie them. She focused, twisting the silky fabric in her fingers with her tongue sticking out in concentration, only to eventually give up and pout as Angelo did it himself. 

“Don’t worry, baby.” He smiled, “Just because you’re not the brightest bulb doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“We don't love you.” Jamal corrected. “Now, we have to get going. Make sure to get dressed at some point. Maybe into that new dress I bought you last week.”

He winked, and the memory slid into Britta’s head. She remembered him coming home with a box and her squeals of delight as he revealed the sequinned evening dress. It was dark pink, her favourite colour, and she’d been so excited she’d immediately tripped over and spilled wine on it. Jamal hadn’t minded, though; he just sent it off to the cleaners, and now it was sitting in her wardrobe, still in the cleaning bag, waiting to be worn.

“Oh yes!” She nodded, “And I will totes be more careful this time.”

“That’s our girl.” Jamal grinned, giving her one final kiss before they both headed back down to their car. 

Britta watched them go and felt an ache in her heart. She only had a few memories of them so far, but all of them were good. This new version of her was so lucky. She spent the rest of the afternoon roaming her new, palatial home. It was huge and incredibly fancy; both Angelo and Jamal came from old money abroad, and it showed. She flipped through photo albums, and as she took in each photo, the memories came with it. She remembered getting into college on a cheerleading scholarship, how she’d cried every week in the library because she was too dumb to understand her lecturers and was about to flunk out. 

But then her future husbands found her. Not only were they hot, they were kind. They had the endless patience to tutor her and protected her from creepy professors who offered her A’s in exchange for access to her DD’s. In the end, college had proved too much for her little brain, but she’d gained two wonderful lovers, so it hadn’t been entirely worthless. 

As the memories of her new life flowed in, the old ones flowed out. She forgot the boring college experience of her male life, forgot the weed-filled night where she’d had the revelation that shattered her existence, forgot the awkward dates that went nowhere. A boring, grey life was slowly being painted over with so much colour she couldn’t even mourn the loss. A placid smile spread across her face, and she engrossed herself with the new memories. She was so absorbed, she didn’t even notice a certain genie watching from the window.