Reoccurring Dream

by Jennifer White

 

Wayne woke up covered in sweat. The vague memory of a bad dream lingered in his mind, a feeling of terror that he had been fleeing from, but one from which it was impossible to escape. He could not remember the dream, but the layer of moisture covering his body attested to his struggles while he had slept.

"It was just a dream" he said, relieved somehow to be in his own bed, and hear his own voice. He felt reassured, and the memory of the dream started to fade.

Suddenly, an involuntary contraction like a cramp in his stomach made him sit up. It was a hard pull, causing pain to shoot out all over him. It seemed to cut right through his body, like a knife. Then it hit again, lasting longer this time. What was going on? He had never felt a pain like this before in his entire life. And somehow, he had a vague sense that it related to his terrible dream.

A third contraction hit, causing him to double over in pain. They were coming at regular intervals, about once a minute. And each one seemed bigger than the one before it. They also seemed to be spreading out; the first one was just a pinpoint, the next one was the size of a marble, and by the time the fourth one hit...it was the size of a basketball.

In between, he breathed hard, panting, trying to gather the strength to think. Even that took a supreme effort, as he was overwhelmed by the pain. Another wave of pain hit, and now it seemed to cover every single inch of his body. Every nerve was going haywire, firing off with a signal of pain to his brain. He yelled out loud, but it did no good.

Then something changed. The next wave to hit him wasn't quite as painful as the previous one, and it hadn't taken quiet as long. The interval was getting shorter. But either Wayne had adjusted to the pain and could tolerate it now, or the contractions weren't as painful as they had been.

His whole body was shaking, and he felt like he just had to get out of his clothes. He took off his nightshirt, almost ripping it, and his boxers. He felt somewhat cooler, but he was still in great discomfort. He looked down, and noticed that his sweat soaked skin seemed strange. What was wrong? Then he realized what it was: his body hairs seemed to be finer and lighter in color. In fact, his chest seemed to be quite a bit less hairy than it had been before.

The same went for his arms. He looked at them, but had to close his eyes and clinch his teeth as the next wave of pain swept over him. He looked down again, and it had changed more! With every wave that flowed over him, he was changed slightly! He looked down at himself again, and that's when he noticed something. Something terrible.

His chest must have been reacting to the pain, because it was beginning to swell. At first, he thought that it must just be a reaction. But there was no reason that reacting to pain would have caused his nipples to grow larger, and the dark rings of color around them to expand. There was no mistaking it: his chest looked like that of a young girl.

His fear intensified as the ramifications swept through his brain. Less body hair, growing breasts...he looked down at his hips. They didn't seem to be any different, but just above them, he seemed narrower. He ran his hands over his stomach, and wondered if it was somehow different to.

His hands! He could not believe how they seemed smaller and finer now. His wrists had to be at least an inch less in circumference than they had been before this started. He was shrinking! His feet were definitely smaller too, his legs smaller, the muscles changing from large and bulky to smooth and flexible.

He reached up to touch his face, and felt the smooth skin. The feel of the shape was different than it had been before. He was afraid to look in the mirror, to see what he would find, but he somehow found the strength to reach over to the night stand and turn on the light. After his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he could see his reflection in the wall mirror. He was staring at the face of a frightened young woman.

The breasts on the girl in the mirror were much bigger than what he had seen before. He looked down, and they had indeed grown much larger. They were definitely female breasts now, like those of an 18 year old. And they were still growing.

Whenever a man feels a threat to his manhood, he gets a certain tingle between his legs, causing the testosterone to flow, and for him to get very aggressive. Wayne felt that certain tingle now, with a *definite* threat to his manhood hitting him. But instead of the normal aggressive feelings any man would get (that would cause them to do stupid things they never would otherwise), he felt something else: passive.

He was unable to fight whatever was the cause of his misery, but he had a very non-male reaction to it. The deep inner instinct in a man is "fight or flight". And he felt neither. That's when he realized that it wasn't just his body that was changing; it was his mind.

"Oh no" he said aloud, alarmed at the rising pitch of his voice. The physical changes were terrifying enough, but knowing that his very mind was changing? He didn't want to be a girl! He didn't want to be female! And he certainly didn't want his very thought processes to be changed! If his mind was being altered, then how might he turn out?

If he ended up with a true feminine mind, then he would be a woman in every way. He would want to be with a man. And he would want to have babies some day. And...

It was too terrible to think. He looked down at his body. The throbbing he felt inside was now getting so fast, that each pulse that coursed through him was almost immediately followed by the next one. Soon, it would become a blur so fast he could not tell when one left off, and the next one started.

As he stood before the mirror, he saw that his face was very pretty now. He saw that he had the classic 'hourglass' shape to his body, with wide hips, a round butt, and a narrow waist. He was dainty, with small shoulders, arms, hands and feet. He felt so weak and helpless!

He looked down between his legs, knowing what would be going on down there. His balls were gone! And his manhood itself; it was getting smaller and smaller, so that he could actually see it shrinking! He put his hand on it, as if to try and keep it from going away all together. But it was very tender and sore, and he was forced to let it go as the last of the stub started to pull back within him.

He felt with his hand as he looked in the mirror. Where his pubic hair ended, he now had the soft 'lips' of a labia, with an opening between them. He carefully put his finger inside, and it felt like a giant chasm. His finger was surrounded by moist female flesh, lubricated from within. He was getting all wet, and a droplet oozed out of his new slit, dripping to the floor.

Wayne was experienced sexually, and had been with many women. He knew his way around a pussy. He found the clitoris, but it was much too tender to take more than just the lightest touch. He had to pull his finger out. Exploration of his new *female* genitals would have to wait.

He looked up in the mirror again, and saw a woman stare back at him. Not one feature on her gave a hint that she had once been a man.

"I'm pretty..." he gasped in his new soft voice. His new voice was so smooth and pretty, that even a spoken word sounded like a melody being sung. It was then that he realized that he really was no longer Wayne. Wayne was gone, and in his place was a woman. He was no longer a he. He was completely female now, and only the word 'she' would be adequate to describe him. She knew in her heart, that she was a woman.

"I am Melody" she said out loud.

The fact that she was pretty made her suddenly feel dizzy. Not just because it was still such a shock, but also because of something worse. She was pretty, and she was *proud* to be so. Another female reaction. The change to her body seemed to be complete, but her mind was rapidly changing even now, with female thought patterns replacing the male ones which had previously been in place.

It felt like Wayne was being erased, and Melody being etched in his place. She felt so upset, and she started to cry. *Another* female reaction! It kept getting worse and worse.

She looked at herself again in the mirror, and felt all dirty after all the sweating. She went into the bathroom, and took a long hot shower. She made sure to wash up between her legs too, since it had been all wet and oozing.

She toweled off, and was about to start with her hair, when she felt a sudden sense that someone was coming! She ignored it, but then there was a knock at the door. She hurried to put on a bathrobe. So, that was what female intuition felt like.

She went to the door, and found that it was just the paperboy, wanting to collect for the week. She went to the night stand, got a few dollars, and handed it to him. The way he stared at her, particularly at her chest, made her feel uncomfortable. This was a fourteen year old boy, and he wanted her. She could sense his reaction to her.

Nothing made her feel worse, than knowing that men wanted her. Her mind might be changing, but her sexual preferences were very deep rooted. Knowing that soon even they would be changing was enough to cause another crying fit.

She went to the kitchen, and opened a bottle of wine. She needed a drink. Her legs started to feel chilly in the bathrobe, so wineglass in hand, she went to the bedroom to get dressed.

But there were only men's clothes, and she shook her head. How could she look pretty in men's clothes? Something within her was really upset that she would even *want* to look pretty. But that part of her was even more distressed to find that she was hoping to find a bra in the underwear drawer, and that she felt the need to put on a skirt instead of pants.

She did her best, but the clothes were all the wrong size for her. She would have to go shopping that afternoon, and get a proper outfit. She went on to her second, then third glass of wine, as she finally picked out something half way decent.

She polished off the wine, then went to see what she could do about her hair. It had become long during her transformation, with the ends curling up just a little bit. There was a hairbrush in the bathroom, but no blow drier, hairspray, or anything useful which she needed.

She looked around, but she started to feel very dizzy. Wayne had been able to drink a whole bottle of wine, without a problem. But Melody was much smaller, and drinking an entire bottle was starting to effect her. She felt very dizzy now, and had to sit down, since the room was spinning so much.

She crawled on the bed, and laid down on her back. She started to touch herself between her legs, and found that she could easily find places which elicited pleasant sensations. She continued to explore, and found that her clitoris was much more receptive to the touch now. She instinctively opened her legs wide, and used her fingers to explore inside.

The overwhelming power of her orgasm, combined with the effects of all the drinks was too much. After exploding in pleasure, and realizing that she wished it was her male lover doing that to her, instead of her own fingers, she relaxed so much that she started to fall asleep.

* * *

 

Wayne woke up covered in sweat. The vague memory of a bad dream lingered in his mind, a feeling of terror that he had been fleeing from, but one from which it was impossible to escape. He could not remember the dream, but the layer of moisture covering his body attested to his struggles while he had slept.

"It was just a dream" he said, relieved somehow to be in his own bed, and hear his own voice. He felt reassured, and the memory of the dream started to fade.

Suddenly, an involuntary contraction like a cramp in his stomach made him sit up. It was a hard pull, causing pain to shoot out all over him. It seemed to cut right through his body, like a knife. Then it hit again, lasting longer this time. What was going on? He had never felt a pain like this before in his entire life. And somehow, he had a vague sense that it related to his terrible dream.....

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2003 by Jennifer White. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.