Skins       by: Raven

 

There was no way to put it off any longer. We had to get undressed in order to get ready for bed. I looked over into the far corner where I put the Jackson's daughter down for the night. Chante' was sleeping soundly in her crib.

Her little black face was so innocent in repose . . . she couldn't have known what happened to her real parents. She only "sensed" that her mother was here. The nourishing mother's milk was still in her dark breasts.

The only problem was that I now HAD those breasts!

I now occupied Vanessa Jackson's body, while she occupied my real . . . male . . .one.

Her husband's body was now occupied by my best friend, Robert. Naturally, Robert's real body was now occupied by Darius Jackson. The only one who escaped our bizarre switcharoo was the Jackson's 8 month daughter, Chante'.

It all happened only two hours ago.

* * * * *

Robert and I were traveling west on Martin Luther King Boulevard. We here returning from a movie, and, as it was still early, about 10:00 p.m., we decided to hit a bar. The Jacksons, as we learned a little later, were returning home after dinner at the parents of Darius Jackson. They were traveling east on Martin Luther King Boulevard.

As both of our respective vehicles approached the intersection of Martin Luther King Boulevard and 13^th Street, another car attempted to make a left hand turn, jumping into my lane of travel. My car clipped the other vehicle's bumper, sending into an uncontrollable spin. The car spun over into the eastbound lane where it collided with the Jacksons' vehicle.

All three vehicles came to an abrupt stop.

Robert and I got out of the vehicle to assess the damage. I have to admit that I was a little pissed because the car that caused the accident violated MY right of way. I wasn't happy that my car was damaged.

As soon as we got out of the car, we saw a good-looking black couple getting out of their car on the opposite side of the road. They too were a victim of the person in the third car. They didn't look very happy either. The black guy, in particular, looked livid, and from the sheer size of him, he didn't look like somebody that I'd want to enrage. The guy had to be 6'10", if he was an inch, and 300 pounds if he were an ounce.. His wife, girlfriend, or whatever, was the exact opposite. She looked tiny at only about 5' or 5'1" tall and 100 lbs dripping wet. The only thing that even looked big on her were her boobs. From even the opposite lane I could tell that she had really big tits . . . maybe even artificially enhanced breasts.

The girl was stunningly beautiful for a black woman. My guess would have been a stripper . . . judging by her assets and beauty.

I didn't much have time to consider the matter any further, as the driver of the third vehicle suddenly emerged from her car. She was older lady . . . perhaps 50 or so . . . of Mediterranean descent. She wasn't even able to utter a single word before the big black guy and I set upon her.

In retrospect, maybe we should have done the nice thing and asked if she was all right. Unfortunately, both of us started to yell at her about the damage done to our cars. One or both of us may have called her stupid. By that time, the short black woman had fallen in behind the black guy. Robert stood to my right.

A look of absolute rage swept across the face of the older woman. When she spoke, she spoke with a Mediterranean accent.

"You bad people. No one ask how Magda is . . . if she safe. All of you only think of is self. Maybe it time you see what it like in other's skin . . . ."

She pointed at Robert and I with one hand, while pointing at the other couple with her other hand.

Suddenly . . . I was standing behind the black guy looking directly at . . . myself?

All four of us started to yell and scream and point at each other. The old woman had done something to the four of us! She'd switched all of our minds and bodies around.

As we stood around ranting and raving, trying to figure out who was who, the old woman . . . Magda . . . calmly went to her car and stole away. She left the four of us in a stunned and extremely confused state.

It took a few minutes, but we figured out that I was in the body of Vanessa Jackson, nicknamed Nessa, and Robert was in the body of Darius Jackson. 'Nessa was in my body, and Dar was in Robert's body. We found out that 'Nessa and Dar, now Robert and I, were married.

We decided to go back to 'Nessa and Dar's place, which was conveniently nearby, to figure this all out. Robert and I would drive the Jacksons’ vehicle (in order to avoid suspicion) while they would drive my car. Both vehicles were still driveable, although the Jacksons' car sustained a little more physical damage.

It wasn't until Robert and I got into the Jackson's car that I discovered another horrible fact. There, soundly sleeping in the beat up car seat, was a little baby. I 'd suddenly become a mother!!

* * * * *

"Well?"

I looked up at Robert in Dar's body . . . way, way up. We used to be able to look at each other in the eye. Now the top of my head only came up to about the middle of his chest. We used to have a name for such short, petite women when we used to be . . . well . . . us. " "spinner." Now I was a spinner.

He looked at me from across the small bedroom. The Jacksons could only afford a one bedroom apartment that they had to share with their child.

Neither of us, up until this instant, really had a chance to get a good look at our borrowed bodies, although I did have a chance to see my new boobs when breast feeding little Chante'. The feeling of it was still fresh in my mind. For a second, I looked away from Robert back to the sleeping baby . . . MY baby for the time being.

When she first took to my dark nipple it hurt like Hell. The pain faded quickly into a sensation of euphoria and joy. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before . . . a phenomenon that no man could EVER know. There was no wonder I couldn't get the echo of it out of my head.

I felt a few drops of milk leak from the nipple of my left boob as I looked at Chante'. I guess the maternal instinct goes with the body.

I looked back at Robert. I couldn't avoid it any longer. We would have to get undressed in the same room, and then sleep in the same bed. There simply wasn't enough room for anything else.

"I guess we have to get undressed?" stated Robert, mirroring my own thoughts.

"Turn around," I told him, even as I reach up to my chest to unbutton the blouse that I wore.

I never knew that the button on a woman's shirt were on the opposite side. How could I know unless I was forced to unbutton the top from this side?

* * * * *

I had to carry the baby into the Jackson's apartment. It was very, very small, and in a bad section of town. Naturally, the jostling and noise of the walk from the car to front door woke the child up. It made me wonder how the kid was able to sleep through the automobile collision?!? There was a lot I didn’t know about babies . . . I was about to get, no pun intended, a crash course!

Just then, the real 'Nessa and Dar walked up to the front door.

'Nessa told me, "She's hungry. You're going to have to feed her. You should probably know that her name is Chante'."

It was . . . eerie . . . to hear my own voice speaking without ME initiating the words. It was even odder to hear 'Nessa's high soprano voice speaking under MY power!

"I hope you have some, what is it called . . . formula . . . inside."

"Uh . . . ." s/he started sheepishly, looking away, "we can't afford no formula. I breast feed her."

My heart sunk to the pit of the stomach of my new body with a resounding "THUD."

Robert opened the door with Darius' keys, and walked through the threshold. Darius followed Robert in Robert's body. However, the latest revelation about my condition had frozen me in place. 'Nessa pushed me from behind to walk forward.

S/he told the other two, "You two go into the kitchen and talk. 'She' and I are going to put Chante' down for the night."

It bothered me that 'Nessa was already referring to me as a "she", even though she was technically correct. Until we figured out how to reverse these body switches, I figured I'd have to get used to feminine pronouns.

I sighed. I WASN'T happy about this. Not at all. I’d been reduced from a reasonably happy (white) guy into a small, beautiful black woman.

'Nessa mistook the meaning of my sigh. By that time we were already in their bedroom. I couldn't believe how cramped the small room actually was . . . a shoebox really.

"Don't worry. All y’all got to do is lift the baby's head up to da nipple. She do the rest. You'll see . . . it easy. It'll come very nat’rall to ya. It what the body built for."

That was easy for her to say! Maybe it was natural for a woman, but I was a man. Well . . . technically I WAS a woman now. I could only hope the instincts of her body would kick in to get me through this.

While I held the baby, 'Nessa started to unbutton the dark blue blouse that I was wearing. Even though s/he had my real body . . . it seemed somehow wrong.

I must have had a look on my face, because she commented right away.

"Look! You don't have nothin’ that I ain’t seen thousands of time. I just ain’t seen it from THIS angle."

S/he was right about that, although the manner in which she expressed it made me frown. Such fractured grammar coming from my mouth made the person who appeared as me sound really stupid and uneducated. I’d spent thousands on a college education, as well as untold hours in a professional career to avoid that very perception. It was disappointing even though it wasn’t actually ME anymore. I was suddenly concerned about what my friends and family would think!

I looked down at my chest as she unbuttoned the top. It was surreal to see dark black boobs barely contained by a dirty, yellowed bra. They were practically bursting from the lingerie. There were stains near the nipples where her milk must have leaked.

'Nessa looked me right in the eyes.

"Pay ‘tention. De bra opens from de front so dat y’all can breast feed her. Next time dat she hungry I may not be here to hep ya."

The butchery of the English language was unnerving, but not so much as the content they were meant to convey.

The ramifications of that statement sent chills up and down my spine. Nevertheless, s/he talked me through holding the baby with one hand and arm, while I unhooked the bra from the front. As soon as I unhooked the bra, the big, big boobs swung free of their containment. The areolae were wide, and several shades darker than my already dark skin. God . . . I was a black woman now!

"Now gent’ly lift her head to you nipple."

I did as s/he instructed. My nipples were erect, with droplets of milk, in anticipation of what I was about to do. Chante' rooted for the nipple for a few seconds before she found it. When she did, a shock of pain went through my whole tit. It burned.

"It be passin’ quickly enuff. Just go wit’ it. I'll leave you wit’ her. Once she done, y’all jus’ put her in de crib. She be sleepin’ right away. Then come an’ join us in de kitchen."

'Nessa gestured to the crib in the corner of the room. She started to go, but I stopped her with a question.

"'Nessa?" That voice was so damned high.

"Hmmm?"

My curiosity got the best of me, "Did y’all have a boob job?"

Damn! Why did I use the word "y’all?" Her grammar was contagious!

"Yeah . . . I did. A few years ago."

"Why?"

"I was . . . am . . .a stripper."

I was right, although I now had no satisfaction from it. Now I was the black stripper. An apparently uneducated one at that.

* * * * *

'Nessa was right. The pain did pass quickly. I sat there enjoying the unbelievable sensation of breastfeeding, while wondering what was going to become of me. What if I was stuck this way? How could I be a mother . . . a real mother . . . for this baby?

I drifted . . . awash in the joy of the natural act that I was doing. Heaven help me, 'Nessa was right. It did come naturally to me.

I became fully aware when Chante's small little mouth detached from my teat. I felt a little like a cow! However, I was almost . . . sad . . . that it was over.

I put the sleeping girl down in her crib, fixed the bra that I was wearing, and rebuttoned the blouse. I was tempted to find a bathroom to look at the body I wore more fully. However, there would be time for that later.

I started to walk to the kitchen where the others waited for me.

* * * * *

They suddenly stopped talking when I got to the kitchen table. They all looked at me like they were waiting for me to say something. It occurred to me what they were looking for.

"It went fine," I advised them. "Chante's sleeping."

They were satisfied with my answer without exploring further the oddity of the circumstances.

Robert looked at me with Dar's eyes.

"We were just talking . . . ."

That much was obvious.

"Yeah?" I almost whispered. Why didn't I want to hear their conclusions?

"It's clear that we're going to have to live each other's life, pretend to be each other, until we figure out how to switch back."

"How? I'm an accountant, and you're a paramedic. How are they going to do our jobs, deal with our parents and friends? ‘Nessa can’t even talk like me. Sorry ‘Nessa."

"That is not a problem. No offense taken," nodded ‘Nessa with my head, sounding EXACTLY like me. It was a direct contradiction to the point I was trying to make.

It was Dar who answered, "We tested ourselves while you were in the bedroom feeding the baby. We each seem to have a copy of the memories of the body, along with a copy of our own. That even includes language skills. At first we were just going on rote, but it gets easier, especially the speech, as time goes on. Here. Let me test you."

"Word up!" commented Robert with a smile, making the point dramatically with a black phrase. It sounded so . . . natural.

They did. The real 'Nessa and Dar asked me questions that I couldn't possibly know about 'Nessa's life. I knew each answer without hesitation. All of the knowledge of her body was there for my use. When I relaxed, I found that I could mimic her poor, uneducated speech patterns. Fortunately the real Dar had some education, so Robert wasn’t as limited in the role he was trying to play. It was decided, with me reluctantly agreeing, to use ‘Nessa’s speech patterns a much as possible to avoid arousing suspicion. It wouldn’t sound right if a stripper who dropped out of junior high school started talking like a Rhode’s scholar!

This then was realism in its most brutal form. I had to act the ignorant black girl just so we all didn’t get locked up in some mental institution. There was no doubt in my mind that fate would by much, much worse. They’d probably pump me so full of perception altering drugs that I would start believing I WAS an dumb black girl . . . and always HAD BEEN.

I felt like . . . crying. CRYING!!! I choked it down because I didn’t want anyone to see that I couldn’t handle it.

At lease we solved one major problem, although if I had a copy of her memories, I couldn't help but wonder what ELSE I got a copy of. The instincts I'd just demonstrated during breastfeeding was an chilling omen.

That left a huge remaining question. How were we going to reverse the body switch.

The others explained that 'Nessa and Dar would use the greater resources of our identities to locate the woman who did this to us. When they found her, we'd apologize to her, and ask her to undo what she did. It wasn't much, but then again, what else could we do?

Until then, Robert would have to live as Dar, an enforcer for a local drug lord, and I as 'Nessa, a black stripper currently on maternity leave. She was due to return to work in a few weeks. Judging by the condition of the body I now wore, she'd been working out to get back into shape for her vocation.

I could only hope that we'd solve our problem before I was forced by circumstances to dance in her place.. Until then, they decided to supplement the suddenly poor income of Robert and I. They would get to live our relatively well-off life, while we would have to survive in their poverty level existence.

* * * * *

The real 'Nessa and Dar left only 20 minutes ago. It was almost midnight, and, needless to say, I was exhausted. I had every right to be.

After they left, Robert and I talked for a little while longer. We decided to use the names of the body we wore, even in private, so that there would be no slip-ups. It would be hard. It had to be done. We had a little argument about I should talk while we were along together. It was obvious that I would have to use the real ‘Nessa’s way of speaking while we were in public, but I wanted to use the proper grammar of my real body while we were alone. I needed some link, however small, to my former life. I just knew that I’d go crazy if I has to talk and act like her all of the time. How long would it be before I lost touch with my real identity altogether?

Robert wanted me to talk like ‘Nessa all the time. He had a sound, logical point. It would become second nature . . . no, first nature . . . so there would be no slips ups. He was insistent on this point, which bothered me more than anything else. Why?

"Does y’all re’lly wants me ta talk likes some stewpid nigger bitch?" I blurted in ‘Nessa’s "best’ diction.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to a rapidly growing bulge in his tight jeans. What did THAt mean? What the Hell was going on. My mind was spinning so rapidly that I thought I was going to pass out, and why, oh why was it so hot down in the panties that I now wore?

"No," I whispered. "I want to talk like me."

I felt the tears start to well up in my eyes, but they did not come. We argued a little more about the issue before we let it drop for the time being. Let’s just say that we agreed to disagree.

We talked about a few other things, yet avoided the biggest issue of all.

He had a male body, and I had a female body. Not only that, we had bodies that were man and wife, had a history, and even had produced a child together. What were we going to do about that history? We would have to at least keep up the outward appearance of young black couple in love. The whole thing scared the hell out of me . . . I was trying hard to subvert the memories of this body that were trying to come to the surface.

I wondered if Robert accessed those memories yet? Sooner or later we'd have to talk about this. Tomorrow I decided.

* * * * *

I turned away from Robert . . . now Dar. Facing me on the wall was a full length mirror. I saw me . . . 'Nessa . . . staring back. If I moved, I could see the back of . . . Dar . . . already removing his T-shirt. The thick knotted muscles of his bare back rippled . . . his arms were huge. There wasn't an ounce of fact on his new body!

I had to look away. I felt the strange . . .yet pleasant . . . wet warmth in my crotch again. I could feel the nipples on by boobs begin to tighten. This was exactly what I'd feared.

The body that I now wore would be sexually attracted to the body that Robert wore. As I said, these bodies had a history. Judging from the its reaction from a brief glance at Dar's body, it was an extremely passionate one. What was I going to do?

My reflection in the mirror was so short and small when compared with my new husband. I removed my short skirt, blouse, and bra with trembling hands. I hadn't even noticed until now that the fingers on those hands each had a painted fingernail of at least an inch. Yet, I'd used them and manipulated things with no problem. Why hadn't I noticed that until now? The body remembered.

Oh how I didn't WANT it to remember . . . remember what it desired!

I stood there in front of the mirror in only a pair of panties. They too, like the bra, were dirty. However, even at faded white, they contrasted starkly with my dark skin. Dar's body was considerably lighter than mine. He may have had some Caucasian blood in his family tree, but there was not a drop in the genealogy of the body I now had.

My eyes were totally black. It didn't look like I had any iris' at all. My eyes were almond shaped, and very big. My nose, although small and upturned, was wide and flat. My lips were plump. All of the traditional features of an African heritage. I was beautiful . . . perhaps the most beautiful black girl I've ever seen.

My body was slender, matching my petite size. My arms had almost no muscle to them whatever. I turned slightly to the side to get a look a t my ass. I’d always heard that black women have slight bigger butts than comparable white women. Now I could see that it was true. Black men always seemed to have an abnormal fascination with a black woman’s ass. There was no doubt in my mind that the ass that adorned the body I wore had attracted more than its fair share of stares in its days.

Like the lyrics of the famous song, this baby had back!

It was those tits, however, that drew my attention. They were firm. They were very, very big. I looked at the bra that was still in my hand. 40DD! 'Nessa would have been a very popular stripper. No doubt that was how Dar originally found her.

The memories contained in this body confirmed that fact.

I lifted the boobs in my hand. They were still teardrop shaped, despite the fact that they were implants. I could see the faint dark scars underneath the tits. She must have spent a lot of money on her body, or more like somebody else.

Again, those damned memories confirmed that fact. The very drug dealer that Dar was now working for. He'd grown tired of this body. Dar moved right in. He's loved her from afar . . . and she him. Oh God, this was getting worse!

I shook my head to deny the reality of it all. My dark hair, relaxed by chemical treatment, and which fell to between my shoulder blades swirled about my face. I felt cool large metallic hope earrings against my neck.

I was woman.

My boobs were so big.

"It's so big!" I heard Dar say from behind me.

I involuntarily turned around to growl at my friend . . . would be husband. Had he been looking at me undressing? I felt my face flush in anger.

I was wrong . . . oh how I was wrong. He was turning around to face me at the precise second that I was turning around to see him. He was completely naked, and had his penis in his hand.

However, it was like no penis I'd ever seen before. It was gigantic. You could see that it was not erect, yet it was still 12 inches in length. It's girth was a thick as my new slender arms were thin. It was a monster.

It triggered a memory within the part of me that was 'Nessa. That was what attracted her to him. She loved big dicks . . . the bigger the better. She thrilled to the sensation of being overfilled completely.

Just the sight of that manhood set all of the hormones in this cursed body into over drive. I felt my nipples harden completely. I was so warm and wet below that it felt like I was wetting myself. I couldn't pull my eyes away from his genitals.

They say every now and then you meet somebody that you share an instant chemical reaction with. I now had proof positive that such a chemical bond existed between Dar’s body and ‘Nessa’s body. I stood quivering in the full grip of that reaction.

And . . . as I watched . . . that monster cock grew and hardened to it's full length, as it engorged with blood. It was a full 15 or 16 inches. I gulped . . . but couldn't look away.

I had to swallow the saliva in my mouth. Why was I drooling?

I looked up to Dar's face. He was no longer looking at his own equipment . . . but at mine. It was clear why he'd suddenly grown so erect.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered simply.

That was, in and of itself strange. Robert hated black women.

Obviously not so much at this very second. And . . . when I talked like a dumb black girl he got a . . . hard on..

 

He moved toward me.

"No . . . ." I said plaintively.

I meant it, although it took every ounce of my willpower communicate it. There was no denying what my body craved. HIM!! The body knew exactly what made it feel good.

I tried to order my feet to move . . . to run. I was frozen . . . a deer caught in the headlights. I reached for any excuse that I could muster.

"No . . . we-we'll wake up the baby."

By that time, he was standing right in front of me. I looked right into his broad, muscular chest. His swollen penis, sticking straight ahead, poked me in my belly.

Dar looked over to the crib to . . . our . . . child. She was still sleeping soundly.

When he looked back, he took my face in his hand. He caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch. I wanted it soooo very badly. Every inch of my dark skin was on fire fore the merest touch from him. But I couldn't. This was unnatural.

Dar tipped my face up to meet his penetrating stare. His face . . . so gorgeous. What am I thinking?

"You are. You are beautiful. I can't help it."

"No," I whispered anew. "I-I can't. I'm a man."

"You feel this just like I do. You want me. I want you. Admit it."

I felt myself nod in the affirmative in his caresses.

I added vocally, "I'm a man . . . ."

Who was I trying to convince . . . him or me?

A tear fell from my eye.

He tried to reassure me, "Not anymore. You and me . . . we're now man and wife. What we were . . . before . . . doesn't matter in the here and now. It's just you and me."

"But . . . ." I tried to protest.

"Shhh," he shushed. "You are 'Nessa and I am Dar. Man and wife, mother and father, lovers. If we do this, we do this all the way. You know this is right. I know you feel it. It will be just as natural as feeding our child. All you have to do is let go.

I felt him take one of my small hands and place it on his cock. I let him. I could barely close my hand around it, it was so very big. How could that thing even fit into me? He took my wrist and urged me to slide my hand up and down the shaft.

Again I let him. I felt my defenses falling away. I wanted him . . . I did. A black man, and I wanted him.

One last chance to protest. I opened my mouth, only to see him lean over to kiss my lips. I didn't close my mouth. His tongue touched mine, and, when it retreated into his mouth, I followed. We kissed passionately for what seemed to be forever.

I felt my hand quicken its tempo on his penis. There was a burning emptiness in my groin that ached to be filled. Filled by that monster in my hand.

The person who used to be my best friend, Robert, lifted both of his hands to knead my breasts. The combination of sensations coming from my chest, mouth, loins and hand made my knees buckle momentarily. My skin puckered into gooseflesh. I was as weak and compliant as a kitten. I felt just as small.

The jostle forced us to break our lick lock.

Dar . . . er . . . Robert looked at my boobs. It was getting so hard to think straight, and remember who was who. The tit that was unsuckled by Chante was now leaking milk in all of the erotic excitement.

He said something that shocked me.

"I always wondered what mother's milk tasted like. Now I can sort of find out for myself."

The other switchee got down on his knees now. As he did, I felt his turgid manhood slip from my grasp. Now it was he who looked into my chest . . . just barely.

Without so much as another word, he took my leaking nipple into his mouth like a baby, and began to suckle. I felt the same initial pang of pain, then the start of the flow of the nourishing liquid. I felt the joy and euphoria again, although this time it was mixed with intense sexual tension. I felt like screaming right there and then.

I didn't. I would have awakened the baby.

Instead I whimpered, "Oh God. Yesssssssssssss."

I cradled his head in my arms like a baby. I pulled him into my aching tit.

"Suckle me, my little baby."

He did. He sucked as if he'd never eaten in his whole life. Never, ever have I experienced feelings like that.

I caressed his shaved head with my free hand, cooing to him just like a baby.

After he drained me, he kissed me again to share some of my own milk with me. I felt the tremors of my first female orgasm shake me to my foundations.

Robert grabbed my smooth black ass, then began to lower the panties that somehow had managed to stay on.

"Say your name. Tell me who you are," he tested me.

I lifted one leg out of my panties, then the other. Now I was utterly naked before this man. I knew what he was playing at, but I was too far along now to refuse him. This had to be played out to the end.

"'Nessa."

"Who are you?"

"I-I'm your wife."

"Yes you are 'Nessa," he grinned at me. "Now it's your turn."

He gently pushed on my shoulders, and lovingly lowered me onto my own knees. The fully erect 15 inch cock stared me right in the face. It was so swollen with blood, aching for release, that I could have sworn that it was purple.

I instantly knew the type of release that he was looking for.

I tried to rebel, but my false memories told me that the real 'Nessa liked this . . . a lot. She liked to have Dar's big dick in her mouth, like to suck it . . . feel it in the back of her throat. She'd even learned how to open her throat, suppressing the gag reflex, so that her husband could literally fuck her mouth.

All of this flashed across my mindscape in the blink of an eye, and now I wanted it too. Wanted to feel first hand, not just through memories, how such a thing would feel. How it would be feel to be so used.

I felt a second orgasm shoot through me, electrifying me, just by thinking about it.

And . . . when it was all over, she liked him to shoot his load all over her face and hair.

My mind reeled . . . it craved.

While the orgasm rocked me, I took Dar . . . my husband . . . in my hand again, and began to jack him off. He put his big hand on back of my head to push it forward. The smell of his rich musk caused still a third orgasm. I was speeding train now quite out of control.

I opened my mouth, extended my tongue, and licked the hot head of his manhood. It sent a shudder to my new female being. I took his head into my mouth.

I started to bob my head up and down. I could feel the huge head go in and out of my wet warm mouth.

"Yes. That's it, Baby," he said. The usage of female epithets only motivated me more.

Yes. My head was swimming. He deserved this . . . deserved the service of his wife. Whatever he wanted. I was just a tool . . . no a toy . . .to be used.

I tried to concentrate on taking him deeper and deeper into me mouth. Soon, I felt the head hit the back of my throat. I was able to take about a third of his length into me.

That's when the fourth orgasm hit me. I was able to achieve sexual gratification just from giving a man oral sex. This was unreal . . . this was surreal. This felt fantastic.

"Mmmmmmmmm." I gurgled while trying to get even more of him into me. I wanted it all . . . I wanted it all the way.

If I had to be a woman . . . a black woman . . . I wanted to be bad. I wanted to be a tramp . . . a dirty, dirty little tramp who gave men blow jobs.

Me. A slut. A whore.

Call me whore.

But the angle was all wrong. He was too tall for me, I too short, and much to erect. I couldn't get any more of him into my hungry gullet in this position.

Dar . . . yes . . . that was his name . . . must have read my mind . . . saw my efforts.

"I have an idea. Stand up."

So entranced was I in what I was doing, so intoxicated with the heady sensations coursing through me that I barely heard him. It didn't register. Dar had to literally pry my mouth away from his dick. I heard it pull away from my thick lips with a soft, wet "Pop!"

"Noooooooooo!" I plead. "I want more. I want to suck your beautiful cock. My husband . . . oh my husband."

It was true. I was a wife now . . . real wife in every sense of that word . . . who loved big dicks.

"Please," I almost sobbed.

"I have an idea," he repeated. "C'mere."

I stood up as he asked me too, although my knees were quite shaky.

"We can only go on if you promise to talk like her . . . you. It turns me on."

"Please," I begged.

I crumbled before the enormous sweet intoxicating weight of strange new desires..

All I had to do was relax the part of me that was still me. Let HER come rushing in.

"I wants ta feel de cum in mah mouth, Baby. Let Momma suck ya off.!!"

I felt some important piece of me die, but it didn’t seem to matter so much for some reason. I didn't have to stand very waiting very long either. Dar lifted me up like a feather in his powerful arms, and then turned me upside down. The man locked his arms around my tiny waist to support my slight weight.

I now found myself suspended upside down and again face to face with his cock. It was at a 45 degree angle . . . the perfect position to go even further. I wasted no time getting back to work, although as soon as I open my mouth, drool from a perverse unsatiated sexual hunger fell onto that heaven lower head. In no time I had half of him in me, going for more.

Then I felt his rough tongue on my new wet, hot sex. That only made me want him more.

I accessed 'Nessa's memories to learn how to open my throat. I followed them mental instructions to the letter. I felt him go further and further. The joints of my jaw started to hurt, I had to open so wide to handle the girth.

Dar decided to help me by lowering and raising me. That helped, and definitely eased the strain on my neck muscles. Now all I had to do was open my throat like a sword swallower to let him lower me on to his prick. I was little more than a human condom.

I loved it. I felt my huge boobs flopping around all over the place. I had still another orgasm.

Sooner, rather than later, I was able to feel his dick go all the way down my throat until its pubis tickled my nose. Then Dar pulled me off so far that I could lick his urethra with my tongue, before lowering me all the way down again. He licked my pussy faster and faster.

Then . . . his tongue found what I imagined to be a swollen pink pearl inside my black folds.

Here we were, Caucasian . . . men . . . enjoying outrageous sex as a black married couple.

I don't know exactly how long we did that. His strength and power were unbelievable.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I felt him grow even harder and stiffer in my mouth. He was seconds away from blowing his load.

I needed to have the whole experience . . . to know everything the real 'Nessa knows.

"Mmmmph, mmmmph," I gurgled to let him know.

He pulled me all of the way off of him, so that I was "nose-to-nose" with his dick. I reached down to stroke him hard with both hands to finish him off. I was rewarded with a thick spray of salty warm cum spraying all over me face and hair. As soon as the hot gobs hit the flesh of my face, I experienced my biggest orgasm thus far.

I couldn't hold it any longer. I had to scream.

"FUCK! Yes . . . yes! Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! I a bitch. I's a hot lil’ bitch who like de big black dick."

A line was crossed. The mangled words came so much easier now.

His cum fell into my open mouth. It was warm and salty and utterly delicious to these tastebuds.

I was certainly a twisted and perverse African bitch.

Then we hear Chante' crying. My screams of ecstasy woke her up.

I smiled. The baby . . . my baby.

"It time ta feed de baby," I giggled. If that was the way he wanted me to talk I would . . . . just to make sure he fucked me.

I looked right into his eyes, "Then we’s fuck like an’mals all night long!!!"

THAT put a grin on his face.

I fed Chante' again, not even bothering to wipe off the drying cum from my face. I didn't want to . . . I was proud of it for some sick reason.

And we did fuck all night too. Dar took me from behind, he took me up my ass. Then I gave him another blow job, this time swallowing the whole thing.

I'd never felt so complete and fulfilled in my entire life.

* * * * * *

11 months later:

When it first started, Dar and I used to get together with the real Dar and 'Nessa in our bodies about twice a week. They tried to use their resources to find this Magda from their end, while the former Robert and I tried from out end.

Nothing seemed to be working. None of us had any luck finding her.

So we all went on living the life suddenly thrust upon us. The odd thing was that I didn't mind all of that much. As I said the real 'Nessa . . . now me . . . loved big dicks. I couldn't get enough of my new husband. I made it a habit to wake him up every morning with a blow job. I didn't want MY MAN to get bored.

I found that 'Nessa's . . . now my . . . sexual preference leaned strongly toward oral sex. I did like get fucked from the rear like a dog every now and then!

I adapted to being a black woman in a black neighborhood faster than what I thought.

From my ID I learned that I was only 22 years old. Dar was 24. I'd regressed a few extra years in the switch.

The meetings with the two others got less and less. I don't know if they picked up on us consummating our martial status, however, if they did, they never let on. What I do know is that as they got more and more involved in our former lives, there always seemed to be a reason not to meet. After only three short months we decided there was no point in the face to faces. We resolved to stay in contact by telephone . . . to keep each other advised if there was a change in circumstances.

Even those calls faded to nothingness. I was a little surprised that they didn't look in on their child. I guess they just figured that she was in good hands with me. I did love her like she was my own. In a sense . . . a very real sense . . . she was my own. She WAS born of my body.

I started back to work at the strip club. It was fun and exciting. Dar never knew that I earned a little extra money by giving guys blow jobs in the back. I didn't love him any less. We just needed the money. We both eventually decided that we could do better than the circumstances that fate dropped us into. I used the extra money to enter cosmetology school I figured that I could become a hairdresser, a manicurist or something. Dar started to work for a construction company. We resolved that when he learned enough of the business he could start his own construction company. There was plenty of demand for minority contractors.

We knew that we'd work our way out of the neighborhood eventually.

I missed dancing, so I auditioned as a cheerleader for the local professional football team. I made it! Cheering was fun, and a lot cleaner than dancing at a strip club. Soon enough football season was over.

It came as a shock when the real Dar and 'Nessa called us one day. It had been well over 8 months since we'd heard from them. They said they had a surprise for us, so we agreed to meet them at a restaurant.

Both of them were stunned when they saw me. By that time I was exactly 7 months pregnant with another child, and as big as a house.

"Oh my God. You're pregnant!" my former body stated the obvious.

"Yeah . . .well. T’ings de happen ya know?" I remarked.

Their eyes communicated how stunned they were with the way I talked.

"Sure. I have a girlfriend now. So does Robert."

The former Dar nodded. We'd all gotten on with our lives.

"That's why it makes this so hard. We found Magda. We talked to her. She thinks we learned our lesson, and will switch us back. We can go over there now."

Wow. After all of this time, we could go back to our real lives. The thing is, our real lives didn't seem so real anymore. I rarely thought of that life anymore . . . almost like a dream fading away.

Dar and I looked at each other.

Dar spoke for me, "Do you both want to switch back?"

They were hesitant. I already knew the answer. They wanted to stay as us . . . with our lives. Who wouldn't want to?

"No."

"No."

They both indicated in the negative, then grew silent.

My former self then stated, "These aren't our lives. We could have not just told you, but we're not that kind of people. Robert . . . er . . .Dar and I talked it over. We're going to leave the choice up to you completely. We'll do whatever you want."

Now it was my chance to speak up.

"Den go back to dos lives . . . I means y’all lives now. Mah husband an’ I be staying just lahk we are."

The former 'Nessa was the most stunned.

"You really mean it. You actually WANT to stay as a black woman? A dumb black woman? Why? You have so much more opportunity as a white man . . . a professional."

"I-I loves dis here life. I loves Chante' an’ de one in de oven. I loves mah husband. Y’all jus’ don' walk way from dat life no matters what sex or color or rel’gion you be. It just a shell. Love don’ d’pend on how smarts you be. I’s free!! De meaning’of life be de livin’ of it. I loves dis here life."

Dar hugged me like he'd never hugged me before. That was it then. I was going to be 'Nessa for the rest of my life. I was happy. I was dreading this day when the real 'Nessa would come back to claim her life. It was my life now. The African heritage was my heritage.

No one could take it away again. That is unless I ran into another witch.

The most important part of life is being happy inside your own skin. It doesn’t matter if it’s white, bronze, brown, black . . . or even a woman’s.

I was.

 

Finis.

 

© 2001
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