The Body Swap

Synopse: Steve’s wife, Erica, was a witch. One day she suggested they swap bodies for a little while, to learn what life is like for the other half. Steve agreed to give it a try. After all, he was the adventurous type. Soon Steve was Erica, but in more ways than she had expected . . .

This story has been reconstructed from the personal papers of Steve S. and Erica S. The first three entrees are from the journals of Steve S.

9/9

Things are going exceedingly well at work. I am sure that I will win the coveted lawyer of the year award in December. My recent promotion to partner was quite a feather in my cap; I am the youngest partner in our firm. Now my division is running like a top, and I am convinced that we are the best division in the company. I have to admit that I love every minute of this success.

It is hard to believe that I am this successful. I have never been the ambitious type, or particularly aggressive. I never thought I would get very far in corporate law. The reality is that I owe my success to my wife. Erica is the aggressive, ambitious one in the family. She planned my successful rise through the ranks at work. I have found that if I follow her advice, I always succeed in career matters. But I owe my success more to her special powers than to her advice. She is, of course, a real live, flesh and blood witch. It seems so strange and dramatic to think that I am married to a genuine witch! Actually, she is a practitioner of the pagan religion of Wicca. Her spells and magic have propelled my career along since we married three years ago. With her by my side, I will go a long way. It is wonderful to have a wife who is ambitious, powerful, and exceedingly beautiful. It is also amazing that she wants no credit for the way she has helped my career. I am a very successful lawyer, and no one will ever know that Erica is responsible. You  would think that a woman like her would want more than just the status of being the wife of a powerful, successful man.

9/11

Erica has made a most unusual suggestion, and I am not sure what to do about it. She wants to find out a little about what it is like to be a man, and she thinks it would be good for me to briefly experience life as a woman. She claims that she has discovered a spell in an old book on Wicca that would allow a man and woman to swap bodies. I find this hard to believe, but she insists it is true. I must admit, that she had always been right in the past about her spells and powers. If she says that she can bring about this body swap, she is probably correct.

So should I do it? It is not a particularly appealing idea to me, but she was very insistent about it. She does not want to take “no” for an answer. What would it be like to spend a few days or a week in that body? I am so used to admiring her beauty from the outside. Would I enjoy it if that beauty was temporarily mine? And she is so gorgeous! I love that attractive face, surrounded by her long, straight, honey-blond hair. I love that petite, 5/3" frame, with its narrow waist, soft little shoulders, and large breasts. She can just make me melt with her gorgeous looks. It certainly would be odd to find myself suddenly living in that utterly feminine body.

As reluctant as I am to agree to this body swap, I can’t imagine what harm could come of it. Erica is somewhat bossy and domineering, but she would never take advantage of the situation I know her too well, and I trust her completely. And the reality is that I sometimes enjoy her domineering nature.

Maybe I will do it. She would never do anything to hurt me.

9/13

I have decided to go ahead with our little body swap. We will do the ritual on Saturday morning. If it works, I will be Erica for a few days. Something strange just occurred to me: I will be my own wife!

All subsequent entries are from the diary of Erica S.

Saturday, September 15 Dear Diary,

I feel very disoriented! The spell worked, and now I find myself in Erica’s body. Erica’s life essence is now living in my body. This whole experience is unbelievable. I feel the need to describe everything in great detail. Maybe it will help me keep things straight.

Things are so different! It feels strange walking around in this tiny, petite body. Everything looks so tall! And so many things about me have changed! This body moves differently. My walk is graceful, supple, and ladylike. My voice sounds entirely different, too. I speak in the upper octaves, in a lilting, musical voice. I have even adopted some of Erica’s habits. For example, I find myself choosing to write in her diary rather than in my old journal. I am fascinated by all of these incredible changes. It is like a whole new world is opening up to me! But I think I should start at the beginning, and explain just how much I have changed.

The spell did not take long. It was a fifteen minute ritual of incantations and chanting by Erica. By the end of the ritual, nothing had happened. I must say that I was relieved. It looked like I would not have to spend a few days as a woman. Then I started to get dizzy and my body went numb. We both had to sit down. Suddenly, I was yanked out of my body. I found myself floating in empty space, unable to see, hear, or feel. I guessed that I was a soul without a body, in transition between my mortal abode and Erica’s. Then something seemed to be torn away from me. I tried to cry out in pain, but could not. The pain was excruciating! Then, a foreign substance came flowing into me slowly, filling the hole. It eased my pain as it took the place of whatever I had lost. It was also soothing and calming, and made me feel different than I had ever felt before. The restlessness that I had always carried with me was replaced by a passive calmness. This process went on for a long time, and then abruptly I was forced back into a body.

I looked around, trying to get my bearings, and sway my own body looking back at me. That is when I realized that I had been deposited in Erica’s body. I looked down and, sure enough, saw a small, shapely, female body. The breasts, my breasts, were huge. Even though they were strapped into a bra, the weight pulled my upper body forward. I had to lean back to compensate. As I settled into the body during the next few seconds, compensating for the weight of my breasts became more natural. It was like I suddenly connected with the habits of the body, and discovered a different way of sitting. I commented on my experience to the new inhabitant of my body. Erica, speaking in my voice, explained that I was bonding with the body.

It was disorienting to hear myself speaking with Erica’s lilting voice, and to hear my manly voice being controlled by Erica’s life essence. I even seemed to speak with her feminine inflection, just as the person sitting next to me spoke with a masculine intonation. Just who was I now? Was I Erica or Steve? Was the person sitting next to me Steve or Erica? I voiced my confusion, and my spouse replied with a question.

“Tell me what your real name is, the name you have used all your life.”

“That’s an obvious question.” I said with scorn. “Of course, my real name is Erica. What did you think I --.”  I stopped in confusion. I had meant to say Steve, but Erica had come out, as if by force of habit.

My spouse laughed at my surprise, then asked another question, “ What is your real sex, the sex you have grown up with?”

I was determined not to make the same mistake twice. I would get my sex right, at least. “You know as well as I do that I am really a woman--.” My body jerked as I realized that I had done it again. Despite my best intentions, I had presented myself as a woman rather than a man. What in the world was going on? “Will you please tell me what is happening?” I pleaded. “Why did I call myself Erica instead of Steve? Why did I say I am really a woman?”

Steve laughed, “Your life essence is now bonded with that body, like I was saying. The spell has locked you into a woman’s body and brain, with all of its feminine mannerisms and habits. Those mannerisms and habits will be yours for as long as the spell is in effect, and for as long as you inhabit that soft little body. Your gestures, the way you talk, and most of your behavior will be consistent with Erica’s personality and identity. So you will find yourself speaking with Erica’s inflections, writing with Erica’s handwriting, and using Erica’s feminine mannerisms. On a deeper level, you will find yourself enjoying the things Erica likes now, rather than your old interests. You will refer to yourself as a woman by habit, and the name Erica will be more natural for you to use. Even Erica’s memories are available to you now. After all, they are stored in the brain you are inhabiting. You have access to Steve’s memories as well, stored in your life essence. The same principles apply to me, by the way. I am now Steve in all the ways that count.”

I sat back in shock and tried to absorb all of this. I had gotten more than I bargained for with this body swap! Finally I spoke, “You mean I have Erica’s personality now as well as her body?”

“Exactly,” was Steve’s reply. “You are now Erica in every way. You are going to find out everything about life as a woman from the inside.”

I sighed and settled back on the couch. I was Erica both in body and mind! It was unbelievable, but I could not deny the evidence of my own senses. This was going to take some getting used to. Then I thought of something. I still had not inspected the merchandise. A tiny thrill passed through me at the idea of looking my new body over. I got up, and headed for the full length mirror in our bedroom. I told Steve that this transformation was something I had to see.

Looking in the mirror was the most disorienting part of this whole thing. Instead of Steve, Erica stared back at me out of the mirror. My reflection was all woman -- I had long, luxurious, blond hair, and a voluptuous, shapely figure. I had two distinct reactions to my reflection. The part of me that was still Steve was shocked by my radically changed appearance. But Erica’s memories told me the reflection was familiar, as familiar as the back of my hand. Part of me felt lost in this foreign body, while another part felt perfectly at home. Then a powerful reaction surged up out of Erica’s memories, overwhelming the feeling of unfamiliarity. That was my body in the mirror, and it was gorgeous. I could not help liking it -- no, loving it.

Steve joined me at the mirror, but I was too caught up in looking myself over to say anything. I found myself pleased by my taste in clothing and jewelry. I was wearing a knit turtleneck that showed off my ample breasts. Tight black slacks emphasized my narrow waist and full, womanly hips. A heavy gold necklace matched my gold hoop earrings. I was most impressed with my artfully applied make-up. It had been put on sparingly, but it emphasized my best features. The most amazing part was the realization that I somehow knew how to apply this make-up. As I looked myself over, it almost seemed that I was going into a trance. I could not take my eyes off my image in the mirror. The more I looked at the new me, the more I liked her. “Girl,” I though, “you are a sight to behold. You are so lucky to be such a beauty.” There I was again, thinking of myself as a member of the fair sex. I had suddenly found myself smack dab in the middle of the world of femininity and womanhood, and I was perfectly happy with it. I liked being a woman.

Steve finally spoke. He had been looking over his new body with obvious admiration. He was enjoying his appearance, just as I had enjoyed living in that ruggedly handsome body. “I certainly do like this change. How do you like your new looks, Erica?”

“I love the way I look,” I replied honestly. “I never knew that being pretty could feel so wonderful. This is the sort of thing I could get used to.” I seemed to sink deeper into that pleasant trance as I spoke.

We admired ourselves in the mirror for almost a half hour. Then Steve said we had enough, and practically dragged me away from the mirror. I really did not want to stop admiring myself. We decided to watch the Saturday afternoon college football games. This was a fall ritual for us -- football was an interest that we both shared. There should be no reason for our body swap to change this common interest. We settled on the couch together, Steve with the beer that I used to like. I drank a figure preserving diet Coke.

A short time into the game I became restless and bored, however, for some reason the football game was not at all appealing. My slacks were becoming uncomfortable, as well. They felt too tight and restrictive on my legs. Steve noticed my restlessness and commented on it. I decided to get up and change into something more comfortable. Steve did not mind; in fact, he voiced his approval.

As I went through my closet in the bedroom, the skirts hanging there caught my eye. Perhaps they would be more comfortable. I took off my slacks and slipped into a full khaki skirt, leaving my pantyhose on. The skirt had cute buttons that ran down the front and a wide belt. Then I took a half-slip out of my dresser, and put it on under the skirt. I put on some heels, instead of the flats I had been wearing, knowing that they added height would look good. The change of clothes felt wonderful. My legs were free and unrestrained now. The soft fabric of my slip felt nice on my hose and I liked the way the full skirt swung as I walked. The high heels required me to walk in a more graceful manner, which I found myself enjoying. As I looked in the mirror, I saw a pleasingly feminine reflection.

I was comfortable now, but not in the mood to watch football. Instead, I decided to do some cleaning around the house. By first, I brought Steve another beer. His drink was gone and he looked thirsty. Steve immediately noticed my change of clothes and looked amused. “You have only been a woman for an hour and you are already in a skirt,” he commented.

I was taken aback. All I could do was smile sheepishly and replay, “Well, it seemed a lot more comfortable.” My answer sounded kind of lame. Why had I been so quick to put on a skirt and heels? What in the world was I doing? I looked down at my clothes with confusion.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Steve said gently. He was too perceptive, reading me like a book. “That skirt really flatters your figure, and it makes you look soft and inviting. I can see why you would want to try it on and leave it on. You should experiment with femininity while you have the change.” With that, he turned his attention back to the football game.

I quickly retreated from the living room, feeling a little uncomfortable. I was enjoying my feminine attire a lot, maybe too much. This kind of a reaction was the last thing I had expected from myself. I put myself to work straightening up the house, knowing that it would take my mind off the situation. Now that I was firmly in place in Erica’s body, there was no sense worrying about it. I had agreed to spend a few days as a woman, and now there was no turning back.

After I finished straightening up, I went to the kitchen and began work on dinner. Usually we cooked dinner together, but Steve deserved to enjoy the prerogatives of masculinity while he had them. I did not ask for any help. I found that I enjoyed cooking for him.

After dinner and a pleasant evening together, I got ready for bed. Steve was watching CNN in the living room and I was alone in the bedroom. I had been anticipating this moment, when I would see my entire body naked in the mirror. If anything would bring home my new identity, this was it! I stripped down to my panties and bra, and carefully hung my clothes up. It was funny how I had lost my old masculine habit of leaving my clothes on the floor.

My reflection in the mirror betrayed my anxiety. I looked scared. As I looked over my reflection, I seemed very tiny and delicate, definitely a member of the weaker sex. An uncomfortable sense of just how weak and powerless I was flowed through me. Slowly, I lowered my panties. Nothing was there, hanging between my legs. I had expected this, but it was still a shock. My soft love-mound stared back at me in the mirror, waiting and receptive. The sense of powerlessness grew stronger. Then a scary realization hit me. My God, I was now a helpless, delicate woman, living in a man’s world! I had given up my manhood, and suddenly I realized how foolish that had been. I could no longer defend myself. There were many things, simple things, that I was no longer strong enough to do. Carrying a medium size suitcase was a good example. A sense of total impotence settled inside me. In that moment I understood just how weak and vulnerable women are. I was glad that Steve was in the other room, being home alone at night was a scary prospect. It occurred to me that I would carry this feeling of weakness and vulnerability with me ever minute of my time as Erica.

This overwhelming sense of powerlessness was not something I had bargained for when I agreed to the body swap. It was so uncomfortable that I found myself yearning for my old strong and virile body. But as I looked myself over, I started to have another reaction. My reflection was attractive. I liked the soft, womanly body in the mirror. There was something soothing and calming about my new shape. My curves looked so gentle, my body so soft. I felt myself being lulled into a state of quiet peacefulness, a kind of deep passivity. It was that trance again. As I relaxed, I turned my attention to my breasts. I undid my brassiere in the back, and let it fall off my breasts. Although I had seen them many times before, they had never been mine. They were huge, almost a “D” cup according to Erica’s memories. The most striking thing about my new breasts was the appearance of the nipples. They were large and dark colored. My breasts felt much heavier now that the bra was not supporting them, and this was a sensuous feeling. I was quite amazed at how sensuous my breasts felt. In fact, they quivered with a sense of luscious pleasure. They dripped with sexual delight. I cupped them in my hands, and gently caressed them. God this felt good! My nipples got hard and erect, and the pleasurable sensation increased. I also noticed a wetness between my legs, and an erotic sensation there. It felt so good that I was not sure I could stop. I found myself looking over my entire body and getting turned on by my voluptuous, womanly shape. My large breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, and sexy legs looked wonderful! My shoulders were so narrow, my neck so delicate. And the way my long mane of blonde hair framed my face was precious!

I felt a drop of moisture running down my inner thigh. This felt better than foreplay had ever felt when I was a man! Suddenly, my legs got weak, and I nearly dropped to my knees. I let go of my breasts and backed away from the mirror. This was so overwhelming! I knew what I wanted to do next, but did not know if I dared. Should I give in to the pleasures of sex in this body? The thought seemed so sensual!

Finally, I made up my mind. Searching through my dresser drawers, I found a powder blue babydoll nightie. The original Erica had rarely worn it, preferring simple pajamas and nightgowns. Bu I knew that I would like it far better than my other gowns. I slipped it on and appraised myself in the mirror. It was perfect, both feminine and sexy at the same time. I brushed my hair in the bathroom, sprayed on some perfume, and sashayed through the living room where Steve was watching television. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw me. “It’s time to turn in, dear,” I cooed, “but Erica’s not sleepy. Do you think you can help me?” I was surprised at my own feminine wiles. They came so naturally! Steve followed me enthusiastically into the bedroom.

My body responded the way you would expect. It was a very passionate night.

Sunday, September 16 Dear Diary,

My second day as Erica began routinely. I got up before Steve and fixed bacon, eggs, and coffee for his breakfast. He seemed to appreciate it, and I continued to enjoy cooking for him. I could only have yogurt for breakfast -- a woman has to watch her weight, you know.

That afternoon, Steve suggested I go shopping at the mall. He said that shopping for clothes was a feminine pleasure that I should not miss. I decided to follow his advice and got dressed to go out. I put on a cute, two-piece dress for my first trip out. The jacket top was periwinkle with large dots, short sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline. The flip skirt was the same color with smaller dots. It was short, not quite covering my knees.’

By early afternoon I was at a local mall. I started out window shopping at the many dress shops. I wanted to look around extensively before buying anything. The clothes were all so attractive that I was afraid I would run up a huge credit card bill and get in trouble with Steve. After I had been at the mall for an hour, I started to notice men looking appreciatively at me. I was dressed very nicely and had spent a lot of time on my make-up in order to look attractive. But I had not expected to draw stares from men, and I started to feel self-conscious. I could feel myself blushing furiously, and I felt both vulnerable and exposed. It was as if my sexy dress and make-up had put me on display. I had never known that women have to tolerate being on show like this. But now that I was at the mall, there was nothing I could do about it but try to ignore it.

Then the attention started to affect me strangely. All of those male eyes on me made me feel incredibly feminine. A wave of femininity washed over me, washing me away in its womanly wake. I felt more ladylike and delicate than I would have thought possible. The attention of the men had underscored my femininity and somehow magnified it a hundredfold. My own attention was drawn to my body against my will. I enjoyed the feel of my silky hair on my shoulders, and the feel of my skirt on my hose-covered legs. Despite my petite frame, my legs felt long and coltish in the short, suggestive skirt. My breasts jiggled slightly in my bra as I walked. Even the sound of my high heels clicking on the marble floor was a pleasure. Walking had suddenly become a sensuous art. My steps were small and dainty, my hips swung gently, and my dress swayed back and forth as I moved. I was falling into that trance again, and seemed to be losing control of my behavior. I knew that I should restrain my sexy walk and try to be discreet. It would get the attention off of me and help me regain control. But I couldn’t! Instead, I was embellishing my sexy walk, letting my hips sing more and sticking my large breasts out for all to observe. I enjoyed walking like that! More men started to notice me, and soon I was trapped in a viscous cycle. The more that men noticed me, the sexier I acted. The sexier I acted, the more I was noticed. Soon I was looking enticingly into the eyes of the passerby, licking my lips seductively, and running my fingers through my hair. And I could not stop! At one point, I cooingly asked a man what time it was. After he told me, I gasped a sexy thank you and sashayed away. I knew that his eyes were following my receding figure intently, and I was thrilled by it.
At this point, I was about ready to panic. I was completely out of control, unable to reign in my new feminine instincts. I had become a voluptuous woman who loved flaunting herself, a totally sexy creature with no self-control. No matter how hard I fought it, I could not restrain myself! My trip to the mall was becoming a disaster. Where would this end? What would happen to me next?

Then something distracted my attention. I noticed a beauty salon as I strolled past. The activity inside fascinated me. I could barely take my eyes off the women getting their hair done there. The final results looked so pretty! Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge to go in and get my hair done! I just wanted to look more beautiful and feminine! The thought of my pretty straight hair in curls was so tempting! I stood there knowing that I should resist the temptation of sinking even deeper into femininity. Besides, what would the real Erica think when she got her body back. She had always liked straight hair, and refused my past suggestions to get a perm.

I could feel myself sinking deeper into the hypnotic trance, and further into comfortable femininity. My mind was filled with the image of pretty blond curls, cascading off my shoulders. I took a few uncertain steps toward the beauty shop. Then I gave in, and hurried into the shop. I just could not control the overwhelming desire to get my hair done! I wanted to be as feminine as possible! At least this took me away from my out-of-control sexual gyrations.

Hours passed as my hair was rolled and treated with chemicals that would give me permanent curls. As I sat under the dryer, I enjoyed reading Cosmopolitan magazine. During the lengthy wait, I found myself admiring the long, painted fingernails of my beautician. That overwhelming desire to be feminine came over me again, and I found myself asking about manicures. After the permanent, I sat down with the manicurist, and she gave me long, luxurious, red fingernails. I absolutely loved my painted nails! I bought some of the mail polish, so I could keep up my fingernails and paint my toenails as well!

At the end of the process, I admired their handiwork in a mirror. My full head of hair now fell in curly locks halfway down my back. It looked so gorgeous! They gave me instruction on rolling my hair each morning to maintain the look. I was very excited with my new look. It was wonderful. As I examined myself, a thought occurred to me. The original Erica had always worn light make-up, preferring a natural look. I preferred something more dramatic and sexy. The next logical step would be a makeover.

When I left the beauty shop, I went directly to the make-up counter in one of the large department stores. I was mesmerized at the thought of a complete makeover. It was as if a magnet was drawing me to the make-up section, and I could not stop myself. I asked the saleswoman for a full makeover, and explained that I was seeking a sexy, exciting, yet feminine look. The saleswoman proceeded to apply foundation, blush, powder, mascara, eye liner, eye shadow, and bright red lipstick. She even lined my lips. Each step of the way, she showed me what to do. The finished product was amazing. I had gone from being beautiful to being a total knockout! My eyes looked larger. Long, feminine lashes swept down every time I blinked. My high cheekbones looked wonderful with the blush. My lips looked moist and red, and they matched my fingernails. I bought enough make-up to last a long time, and headed home. My sexy walk kicked in more pronounced than ever as I passed through the mall, but I was able to stay on course. The mall was nearly closed at this time, which probably helped.

I was a little anxious about Steve’s reaction. Would he be angry at me for spending so much money, and for making all these changes to a borrowed body? I did not need to worry. Steve took a double-take when he saw me, but he definitely approved. He said that he liked my “new look,” and that I should immerse myself in the pleasures of womanhood while I could. Then he gave me a big kiss. I went to the kitchen to fix some dinner, floating on cloud nine because he liked the new me. I wondered how he would react when he saw the new me tonight in my babydoll nightie. (He reacted well.)

Monday, September 17 Dear Diary,

Today Steve went to work to do my old job while I stayed at home to be the housewife. That powerful sense of femininity was still with me from the day before. I felt so ladylike and delicate! It seemed so nice to stay at home and take care of the house while my husband was at work in his law office. But I was faced with one problem. I suddenly could not bear the thought of wearing a pair of slacks again. The old Erica had very few dresses, preferring tight, sexy pants. Well, the new Erica needed to luxuriate in pure femininity — ranging from long, flowing dresses to short, sexy skirts. I had worn most of my dresses and skirts at this point, and I desperately needed a few new dresses. I called Steve at the office, and he gave me permission to buy ten new outfits.

After I cleaned up the house, I fixed myself up to go out again. Rolling hair and putting on make-up certainly can be time consuming. Finally I was ready, wrapped up in a cute little shirtdress. I went back to the mall, and tried my hand at shopping again. As soon as I was in the mall, my provocative walk started again. But this time I ignored it, and the looks I got.  I just had to accept the fact that for some reason I had become extremely sexy when I was yoked to Erica’s body. Strangely, I seemed to be sexier than the original Erica. But I made a point of keeping my mind on task this time, rather than on sex.

I had a wonderful time shopping. At the end of the trip, I was pleased to know that I would not have to wear pants again as long as I was Erica. These ten outfits would keep me immersed in femininity for the rest of my stay in this body.

Once I got home, I hung up all my new clothes and tried to find something to do. I ended up watching Oprah and Sally and loving those shows. I had never liked them before, but now they seemed wonderful and sensitive. Then I decided to make a special, candlelight dinner for Steve that night. The more I thought of it, the more the prospect of a romantic dinner excited me. I cooked a delicious lasagna, made Caesar salad, and prepared Italian bread with garlic. I set the dining room table with our good china and candles. As I was cooking and setting the table, a deep sense of submissiveness came over me. I was enjoying the thought of serving Steve dinner. It made me think how nice it was to serve him and even obey him. I liked the idea of being the docile wife who yielded to her powerful husband. An idea formed in my head as I worked. I would show him what it was like to be waited on hand and foot by a totally obedient, dutiful wife. For the night, I would be his sweet little servant. The idea had a soothing, calming effect on me. I felt pleasantly passive and peaceful. Then I started falling into that trance again. The idea of being the subservient little housewife was becoming as appealing to me as the thought yesterday of having my hair done.

After I finished making dinner, I prepared myself. I wanted to be the perfect little wife tonight, and I was determined to look my best. At this point, the thought of waiting on him hand and foot had become completely irresistible. I hoped it would be irresistible to him, too. I put on one of my new dresses. It was a blue dress, with white and pink flowers. It had a scoop neck and long, full skirt. The skirt came halfway down my calves. The waist was shaped, and the dress tied in the back. I wore a triple strand of pearls around my neck, dangling pearl earrings, and a triple strand pearl bracelet. White, three-inch heels toped off the outfit. I inspected the final product in the mirror, and was pleased to see that I was utterly feminine. I was a vision of sweet femininity. That hypnotic feeling of submissiveness intensified. I went to the kitchen and tied a frilly, blue apron around my waist. It emphasized my subservient, wifely role and made me feel even more obedient. The sense of powerlessness and weakness I had felt the first night came back, too, but this time I enjoyed it completely. I did not need power as long as I had Steve.

I met Steve at the door with a glass of wine. I gave it to him, and took his briefcase, suitcoat, and tie. When I returned to the living room, he was settled on the couch looking content. I had brought his slippers, and knelt in front of him. As I untied his shoes and removed them, I explained what I had in mind for the evening, “I am yours to command tonight. I will serve and obey you. Every wish of yours is now my deepest desire. It seems that I am helplessly in your thrall.” Putting my secret desire into words only intensified it. I could feel myself starting to get wet.

Steve smiled enthusiastically, obviously liking the idea of having his beautiful wife at his beck and call. “This is like a dream come true,” he replied. “I can’t tell you how exciting the thought of having you under my total control is. You can be my little chambermaid. How does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful, darling. You have conquered me.” I said meekly. His obvious pleasure thrilled me.

I began to gently massage his feet, remembering how sore they often were after a day’s work. I found myself getting lost in my subservient, wifely role as I worked. It felt like I was getting smaller and less important. His powerful will seemed to override mine until my sole remaining desire was to serve him. The proper role for a woman became clear to me in that moment. It was to wait on her husband, hand and foot. Since I was the woman now, this was my proper place in life. The thought of staying Erica for the rest of my life crossed my mind. It would be hard to top the joy that I was experiencing as a woman.
Some dim part of my mind wondered what I looked like, in my long dress, jewelry, and apron, kneeling obediently before my husband, serving him. That dim part seemed to cry out suddenly: “This is a trap! You are being turned into a woman! If you don’t stop this now, you will spend the rest of your life serving a husband who should really be your wife! You will lose your position of male privilege and be trapped in this yielding, powerless female persona that has been created for you!”

I ignored that strange voice in my head, and lost myself in the work of massaging his feet. How could I think such odd things, especially when I was enjoying myself so much? I finished the foot massage and put his slippers on his feet. I looked up lovingly into his eyes, and I could see the pleasure and affection there. I saw something else, too. Was it glee? It must have been quite a thrill to have me in this position of yielding obedience. He held all the cards now. By this point I was helpless, unable to stop myself from serving him even if I wanted to. I wondered if he realized how much control he had. But it did not really matter if he knew. All that mattered was that I would do whatever he wanted for as long as I was Erica. He accepted my offer of a back massage. After the massage, I went to serve dinner. We had a wonderful dinner, and a wonderful evening. As I had planned, I satisfied his every whim that night. Eagerly!

Tuesday, September 18 Dear Diary,

I woke this morning feeling wonderful. I felt rested and content. My long, silky white gown was luxurious on my body. I put on the matching robe and went into the bathroom to brush my hair. Steve had left for work already, and I had overslept. He was sweet not to wake me and make me fix breakfast, but I felt a little guilty for not fulfilling my wifely responsibilities. Steve must have felt that I deserved to sleep in after our late night of passion. And it had been quite a night. Now I knew what a love-slave was, and I was well on my way to becoming one.

As I brushed my golden tresses, I realized that the feeling of submissiveness I had felt the previous night was still with me. I seemed small and insignificant, and took great pleasure at the thought of serving Steve. It felt wonderful to know that I could obey his every whim for as long as I was Erica. And I enjoyed the reflection in the mirror of the soft, demure woman brushing her hair.

The day went routinely. I stayed in my gown and enjoyed its comfort as I cleaned a little and rustled up a small lunch. During the afternoon, I spend most of my time reading a romance novel that I had bought at the mall yesterday. It was marvelous. I was through with reading thrillers and mysteries now that I was Erica. Late in the afternoon, I started getting ready for a cocktail party being held by Steve’s office that night. It was a celebration of a large new account that the office had obtained. My mind turned to the joys of dressing for the occasion.

That night when Steve got home to pick me up, I was waiting in a lovely, short, red cocktail chemise. It had a scooped neckline, open back, and it hugged my ample curves lusciously. It also showed a lot of leg. My jewelry consisted of a gold choker, gold hoop earrings, and a wide gold bracelet. For shoes, I wore three inch red spike heels. Steve did not bother to change his suit when he got home. He helped me into my red, three-quarter length swing coat, and we were on our way. He opened the car door for me like a gentleman. I felt like such a lady.

The Party, my first social event as Erica, turned out to be disquieting. Previously, I had attended as “one of the guys.” Now I was one of the wives. I quickly discovered that my new female personality was unusually timid and fearful. My former colleagues now looked big and intimidating from this petite, delicate body. It did not help that my cocktail dress displayed so much leg and cleavage. I felt exposed and quite vulnerable. My onetime associates were now leering at my voluptuous body, and some of their wives even gave me envious looks. I found myself staying close to Steve for protection. When he left me, I felt more anxious and vulnerable. When I was by his side, I felt safe and comfortable. I realized unpleasantly that I had become totally dependent on his strength. Seeing the power that Steve and my former colleagues wielded brought home just how much I had lost with this body swap. As Erica, I was a powerless, weak-need woman.

Midway through the party, my sexy feminine instincts went into overdrive again, awakened by the growing attention from my former colleagues and the wine I was drinking. I tried to control myself, but I could not stop. Soon I was exuding voluptuous, seductive charm. When I walked, I led with my breasts and my hips swung suggestively. I offered alluring looks to the men I met. My tongue occasionally darted out of my mouth, offering sweet temptation. Twice I deliberately dropped my purse so I could bend over and offer a look at my shapely buns. I flaunted my body shamelessly, and it created quite a stir in the crowd. When I talked to me, I found myself giggling and cooing coquettishly. Every time I tried to talk to a man, I found myself flirting. It was as if I had been transformed into a stereotypical “dumb blond” who could not carry on an intelligent conversation. It was frustrating to sound like such an airhead, because I have always prided myself on my intellect. No matter how hard I tried, I sounded like a brainless female. But the men found me enchanting, despite my silly chatter.

It eventually occurred to me that my seductive charm and airhead act was more than just a reaction to the men. It was also an act to cover up for my fearfulness. But no matter how hard I tried to stop, I could not. I had lost all control over my behavior. This new personality was just too powerful for me. As long as I was Erica, I was doomed to be a seductive “dumb blond.”

Toward the end of the evening, I overheard a most unusual conversation. I was in the Ladies room, in one of the stalls. Two women came in, and started talking about me. They began gossiping, as we women often do, and soon they were talking about how much I had changed. They thought my perm and make-up were a total departure from the natural look that I had always preferred. The women were not struck by the change in my behavior, however. They wondered how an intelligent woman like me could suddenly become a such a “bubble head.” And they wondered why I seemed like such a “sex pot” now. They also noticed that I deferred to Steve and “followed him around like a puppy dog,” after years of “wearing the pants in the family.” I thought long and hard on what they said after they left the Ladies room. I had supposedly gained most of Erica’s personality when I bonded with her body. But in reality, I was much more feminine, sexy, and submissive than the original Erica had ever

been! What was going on? The original Erica had not been overcome with the joys of wearing dresses, jewelry, and having her hair done. The original Erica had not wished to submit to her husband. She had certainly never kneeled before her husband, or agreed to be his love-slave. If anything, she had worn the pants in the family, and it had been obvious enough that the other wives had known.

An explanation began to form in my head. What if Erica — the original Erica — had wanted to literally wear the pants in the family? What if she had maneuvered me into her female body in order to take my male body as her own? Her spell could have intentionally given me this ultrafeminine persona, as well. That would explain why I was obsessed with femininity and submissiveness. The end result would be a new Erica (me), who was all woman and exactly the kind of wife that most men would want.

A chill ran through me. If this was true, I was in deep trouble. I might never get my own body back. I was much too weak to physically force Steve to return my body. And immersed in this feminine persona, I could never stand up to him. I was so submissive now that I would be helpless in an argument. I would find myself doing whatever he wanted, and probably serving him sexually as well. He definitely held all the cards. Girlish tears rolled down my face. I had never cried when I was Steve, but it was all I could do to avoid breaking into a fit of sobbing I would have to talk to Steve and find out if any of this was true. Maybe I could find a way out of this fix.

I carefully redid my make-up and then went out to join my husband. For the rest of the evening I pondered my situation. I realized that I would have to confront Steve when we got home, but I would have to be careful not to make him angry. It would do me no good to make him mad. If I could just get back into my old body, even for a few seconds, I would be alright. Once in my rightful body, I would never leave again.

As soon as we got home, I brought up the subject. Steve had barely finished hanging up our coats, when I asked to talk to him. We sat on the couch together with two glasses of wine.

“Something has gone wrong with our body swap,” I began. “You said that I would have Erica’s personality while I was in this body. But my new personality is not like the original Erica at all. The original Erica was strong, but I am incredibly submissive and weak. I am obsessed with soft, feminine clothes to the point that I just can’t get enough of wearing dresses and jewelry. I seem to love ruffles and skirts. The original Erica didn’t care for skirts and ruffles at all. And t I turn into this seductive, alluring creature whenever I am around men. The first Erica was never like that. Something has really gone haywire with the body swap. I have become too feminine. It is like I am turning into the most feminine woman whoever lived. I have to put a stop to this somewhere, and I think now is the time. I think we should switch back to our old bodies tomorrow.” There. I had said it. And Steve did not seem at all upset.

“You know,” he replied, “I have noticed the same thing about your behavior. It is odd how feminine you have become. You are right when you say that you are much more womanly than I was. I have a theory about that, though. If my theory is right, then the effect is harmless.”

That intrigued me. It would be a relief to discover that all my worries were over nothing. “What is your theory?”, I asked.

“My theory is that most men experience nothing of what it is like to be a woman. Most men know nothing of femininity. Our culture does not permit men to indulge their feminine side, but women are often encouraged to develop their masculine side in their career. You suddenly found yourself immersed in femininity for the first time in your life when we completed this body swap. In fact, you abruptly found yourself living in a feminine body and feminine personality. It was just too overwhelming for you. You had no clue about how to deal with femininity, and it overpowered you. I believe that you will find yourself back to normal once you are in your own body.”

I was relieved by his explanation. It made perfect sense, and there was no hint of a plan to keep me trapped as Erica. I told Steve that he was probably right, but that I wanted to switch back to our original bodies the next day. He agreed with no hesitation. We retired, and I slept a peaceful, sound sleep. If all went well, I would soon be a man again.

Wednesday, September 19 Dear Diary,

We woke up this morning planning to do the body swap again. We would soon be our old selves again. Steve stayed home from work for the morning in order to complete our little switch. I fixed a nice breakfast, and dresses in a pair of cream colored slacks with a matching sweater. The slacks were uncomfortable, but I thought the original Erica would appreciate them more than a skirt.

If took Steve awhile to review the necessary incantations. While he was doing that, I enjoyed a last round of housekeeping. I realized that I would miss this life. Soon, I was feeling wistful and sentimental about my brief tenure as a woman. Femininity certainly did have its advantages.

Finally Steve was ready. He gave me a hug and one final kiss in our turnabout selves. It was a long, lingering kiss, and I could not help getting aroused. Then I felt his familiar hands on my breasts. God this felt good! He broke off the kiss eventually; it seemed that I could not. I looked at him wistfully. It would be easy to be mesmerized by his kisses.

“I have one last thing to show you before we change back,” Steve said. “It’s a surprise that I was planning for the weekend. You won’t get to use it now, but you should at least look at it.” He took my hand and led me into the bedroom. From the back of his closet, he produced a devastatingly beautiful black velvet dress on a hanger. As soon as I saw it, I went weak in the knees. It looked so soft and pretty! A woman would feel like a beauty queen in a dress like that. Despite my better judgment, I wanted to put the dress on.

He could tell I liked it, and suggested I try it on. I could be beautiful one last time, he said. I simply could not resist. As I took off my sweater and slacks, he got out some black pumps and black pantyhose for me. I removed my bra — this dress required the woman to go braless.

Steve helped me slip on the dress. The soft black velvet was gilded with braided gold along its off-shoulder neckline. The neckline actually stood away from my shoulders, leaving them completely bare and exposed. The fitted bodice was tight on my waist, and the full, flared skirt fell below my knees. We added sexy, dangling earrings and a bracelet. I brushed my hair carefully, and Steve held my hand as I stepped into my high heels. Steve led me to the full-length mirror, still holding my hand, and I looked myself over.

The vision of feminine beauty that stared back at me made me melt. The dress was definitely me. It was all feminine softness and sexy vulnerability. I could not take my eyes off my reflection. Once again, I was slipping into a trance, and feeling more womanish by the second. In the mirror I saw a delicious and delicate lady. The slacks I had worn earlier would be wasted on the feminine little beauty in the mirror.

“You sure make an incredible woman, Erica,” Steve said. “You are more of a woman than I ever was. It almost seems like you were meant to be a girl, you had taken to it so well. I have to admit, I am going to miss you.”

I still could not take my eyes off the mirror. My reflection was enchanting. The trance deepened and I found that I was frozen in place, unable to move. I was rapidly becoming a slave to the image in the mirror. At this point my eyes were glazed and half closed. My mouth was parted gently, and my face had relaxed. My hole body was limp. I could not help buy yield to the pull of the lovely, feminine dress. In this dress I was a milky, tender little sissy, and I loved it. The velvet material rubbed gently on my silky skin, brining out every bit of the woman in me. I did not belong in a man’s world. I realized with conviction that I was not ready to go back to being Steve yet. I was enjoying being Erica far too much to turn back now. It was impossible to turn back just now.

Steve interrupted my reverie. “Erica, honey, are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“No,” I gasped in a breathy voice. “I just can’t get over this dress.  And my reflection. I don’t think I am ready to go back to being Steve yet, honey. I really want to remain Erica for awhile. Maybe a couple of weeks. Would you mind?” I found myself looking at him with desperate eyes. I would be shattered if I had to go back to being Steve now. I batted my long eyelashes for effect. Then I averted my eyes submissively.

“Of course you can remain Erica for a couple more weeks,” said Steve. “The only reason we were going to switch back today was because you wanted to. You should continue to enjoy being a member of the fair sex. And I was not kidding when I said that you were meant to be a girl.”

I smiled demurely, and batted my eyes again. I was meant to be a girl? What a pleasant thought! It certainly seemed that way. “Will you take me out to dinner tonight and show me off in my new dress?”, I cooed gently.

“Certainly,” he replied.

I luxuriated in my new dress the rest of the day, and enjoyed my dutiful, wifely role. Every time I glimpsed myself in the mirror, I seemed to go deeper into a trance. We had a wonderful dinner out, and I took great pleasure in showing myself off. My resistance to my voluptuous, feminine wiles was gone. I loved being on display. I flaunted my scented, powered, and well-wrapped body joyfully. What a night!

Saturday, November 22 Dear Diary,

This is Saturday morning as I write this.  The most fantastic thing happened last night, and I need to write it down before I forget any of the details. The last few days have been kind of calm and quiet. I have been comfortably going about life as Erica, and enjoying every minute of it. My routine is pretty simple — making myself look pretty, keeping the house clean, and waiting on Steve like a good little wife. But last night something curious happened. I lay down to go to sleep at bedtime like usual. I drifted off into a peaceful sleep. It seems like a floated in the pleasant darkness of sleep for a long time . . .

Suddenly I woke up. My eyes opened abruptly, and were greeted with an odd scene. I was seated at the vanity table, looking at my reflection in the mirror. The reflection that greeted me was something of a shock. I was still Erica, but I was wearing a white wedding dress. And I looked several years younger than I should have. Looking around, I saw that I was in a medium-sized, pink room. There was a closet at one end, a bureau next to the vanity, and a large, full-length mirror on the wall. I rose from the vanity table, and rustled across the room to the mirror. It was difficult to walk in the cumbersome wedding gown.

In this mirror I could see my entire body. It was indeed a wedding dress that I was wearing, and it looked familiar. The dress was incredibly full, no doubt brimming with petticoats. The skirt made quite a train behind me. The sleeves were long and puffed at the shoulders. A deep -neck hinted at my breasts, and the dress was embroidered with pearls and gold fiber. Dangling pearl earrings and a veil cap completed the picture. My long, blonde hair fell, unpermed, to my shoulders.
I felt very feminine in the dress. No female could help but feel womanly in this kind of raiment. But what was going on? What had happened to me now? As my surprise wore off, both Erica’s and Steve’s memories told me that this was Erica’s wedding dress. I remembered that this was the dress the original Erica had worn on our wedding day. Then Erica’s memories told me something else. This was the room Erica had dressed in on our wedding day. But how had I gotten here, and why was I wearing this wedding dress?

My hair was the length and style that the original Erica had worn when we married. And my face looked younger, as I had noted before. I looked like a nineteen year old Erica who had married me, rather than the twenty-seven year old Erica I had become. We had married when Erica was a sophomore in college. I had been twenty-five then, and was just out of law school. Erica had quit school when she married me. She disliked school, and channeled her ambitions into my career.

At this point, I realized that I must be dreaming. In my sleep, I had dredged up memories of Erica’s wedding day. But this was all so real! Everything looked so real. I could feel the soft dress I was wearing, hear the rustle of my petticoats, and smell my perfume. The room looked real, as well. I had never had a dream with this much detail.

Then another detail assaulted me. Deep down inside, I felt like a nineteen-year old girl. I was acutely aware of just how young I was. I was inexperienced and unworldly. My naivete could easily get me in trouble if there was no one to protect me. I realized that I now lacked the confidence that Erica had developed with age and experience. First I had given up my masculine power, now it seemed that I had lost the strength and wisdom that come with age. Suddenly, I was a timid girl in my late teens!

I was no longer sure that this was a dream. It was so real! And if my wife could turn me into the woman of the house, maybe she could regress me as well! Maybe she could make me a nineteen-year old girl! I swallowed hard. What would I do now? And what was going to happen next? Was I supposed to get married now?

The last thought stopped me cold. In an instant, I knew that it was my wedding day. I was to marry Steve today! My heart started pounding with excitement. A thrill went through my whole body. I had wanted this for years! My wedding day, the day that I would settle down and start a family, was today! I tried to put the brakes on my excitement, but could not. My feminine personality, now thrown back to the tender age of nineteen, was completely in charge. The only thing I could think of was the sheer excitement of marrying Steve. I realized that I was breathing hard, and struggled to calm down. It took a few minutes for me to get hold of myself. Even then, I could not avoid the pleasant glow that accompanied the thought of getting married.

Just as I was feeling calm again, there came a rap at the door. In popped Erica’s younger sister, Elaine, without waiting for a replay from me. She was dressed oddly, in a tux. I could not help but wonder at her choice of clothes.

Elaine looked me up and down, and smiled with satisfaction. “You look wonderful,” she said. “It is almost time to begin.”

“You mean the wedding?”, I asked breathlessly, unable to hide my excitement.

She smiled again, this time a crafty smile. “Yes, the wedding. Of course, the wedding. This is the most important day of your life, and I am glad to see that you are excited by it. By the way, you should know something. I know who you really are. You don’t need to hide it from me. And I think you will make a wonderful sister.”

“You mean, you know about the body swap?”, I asked, shocked that she might know.

“Yes, I know all about it. All of the women here know about it, and they approve. Every single woman here approves.”

The thought that all the women in the congregation knew was overwhelming. It would be humiliating for them to know that I had given my position of male privilege to Erica and taken her place as member of the weaker sex. It would be humiliating to have them watch me walk down the aisle as the bride. But how could they all know, and frankly why would they believe this was possible? The thought that this might be a dream occurred to me again, and I asked Elaine.
“Yes, this is a dream,” she acknowledged. “This is a dream about your marriage to Steve.”

“But it seems so real!”, I protested. “Everything seems so real!”
“It is a dream, though,” she replied. “But you should keep this in mind. Dreams can be more real than reality. They can be more important than the real world. What you do today will be very important, It will shape the rest of your life.”

That thoroughly confused me. If it was just a dream, why was it important? I asked Elaine.

“I’m sorry, Erica, but I have told you all I can,” she said. “I can give you a little piece of advice, however. In this dream, follow your newfound feminine intuition. If you follow your womanly instincts, this will turn out nicely. You will become the first of a new breed, and you will like the outcome more than you can imagine.”

I did not really understand her cryptic advice, but it seemed wise to take advantage of my current assets. Since I was a woman, I should trust my intuition.

Elaine shepherded me out of the dressing room and into the waiting arms of Erica’s mother. She, too, was wearing a tux. We waited while Elaine took her place in the chapel. Then, as the organ sounded “Here Comes the Bride,” Erica’s mother escorted me into the chapel. It seemed that she would be giving me away.

All eyes were on me, as we walked slowly down the aisle. I felt incredibly feminine in my wedding dress, playing the role of the bride. And I was acutely aware that the women knew I had once been Steve. I seemed weak and exposed. Still, I could not stop my excitement at the thought of marrying Steve. My heart was pounding, my breathing heavy, and I could feel myself flushing red. I was a blushing bride!

As we approached the altar, I noticed some strange things. The priest who was to marry us was a woman. She wore a clerical collar, and seemed to beam with happiness and power. My bridesmaids were the real surprise, however. The groomsmen from my wedding were all liked up in blue bridesmaid dresses and matching blue pumps. Somehow I knew that they had been forced into those feminine outfits, complete with long womanish skirts. The men appeared to be in a trance. They stared ahead, eyes wide and unseeing. Erica’s original bridesmaids were standing alertly by Steve, wearing tuxedos. Elaine stood next to Steve, as the head groomsman. I took all this in with amazement. What a strange dream!

The priest spoke, beginning the ceremony. I forgot all about my strange surroundings and was soon caught up in the thrill of the wedding. Despite myself, I got lost in the joy of knowing that I would soon be wed to the man of my dreams. I knew that he would always protect me and take care of me.

Soon the priest turned to me. “Do you, Erica, take Steve to be your lawfully wedded husband, to serve and to obey for the rest of your life? Will you be the dutiful wife, granting each of his desires? Will you accept the role of wife and subordinate, and bind yourself over to his will forever? Will you take on the mantle of womanhood, with all of its joys and burdens, and abandon every last bit of manhood? Will you be feminine always?”

Her words stunned me. I had not expected quite so much. I had anticipated simple wedding vows, but obviously I would be agreeing to a lot here. But I could not control my response. “I will!”, I blurted out eagerly. Being a wife was just too tempting to refuse.

Steve’s vows were next. They were complimentary to mine, “Do you, Steve, take Erica to be your lawfully wedded wife, to control and command for the rest of your life? Will you be the faithful husband, and protect this powerless little lady? Will you accept the role of husband and master, and bind her to your will always? Will you take on the mantle of manhood, with all of its joys and burdens? Will you be strong always?”

“I will,” he said confidently.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” proclaimed the priest. She turned to Steve and said, “You may kiss your bride.”
I turned to Steve and he gathered me into his arms. He kissed me deeply and strongly; I yielded demurely. It felt wonderful. I was his woman now.

As we turned to face the crowd, confusion broke out. I heard girlish cries of horror and disbelief, and manly cheer of victory, Looking around, I noticed the bridesmaids. They had changed considerably. They were all small, delicate women now! I recognized the facial features of my old friends, but the features had a feminine cast now. It was as if they had become their own sisters. They were out of the trance now, and realized what had happened. Two of them fell to their knees and began sobbing. One simply stared down at her body in disbelief. Two appeared to be going into shock, eyes wide with horror.

I glanced over at the groomsmen and was greeted with another chock. They were men now, standing there confidently in their tuxedos. Each one had a smile of victory on his face, so different from the tears of defeat coming from the bridesmaids. Then I noticed the biggest surprise of the day. Everyone in the congregation had switched genders. All of the men were now women. They stared down fearfully at their shapely, skirted bodies. All of these turnabout women were petite, delicate and small-boned, and wrapped in pretty, ruffled dresses. Somehow I knew that their new personalities would be as submissive and yielding as their new bodies were weak. The cries of horror had come from these turnabout women.

And the women were all confident, athletic-looking men now. The victory cheer had come from them. In the blink of an eye, they had acquired the masculine strength of the former men, and it was clear they would not hesitate to use it to subjugate those who had been transformed into women. They simple stood there, emanating proud strength. The new men looked at their castrated, unmanned spouses and family members with disdain. The balance of power had suddenly shifted in the room. The former men had been reduced to helpless women. You could see how weak and vulnerable they had become, stripped of their masculinity. They would not be able to resist the rule of their now-manly spouses. As I watched the chaos in the room, I could not escape the feeling that I was somehow responsible for what had happened. It was as if my willingness to marry Steve had allowed them all to be transformed. In the midst of all this chaos and confusion, my dream ended.

I sat up abruptly in bed. It was dark in the room, still the middle of the night. Pondering the meaning of this strange dream and still feeling vaguely guilty, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

When I woke again, it was 10:00 a.m. I was still tired, as if the dream had exhausted me. I was glad to be out of that strange dream, but could not escape the feeling that I was Steve’s new bride. I still felt like a nineteen-year old newlywed. On a whim, I got the wedding dress down from the attic and tried it on, as well as the jewelry I wore on our wedding day. The dress still fit as well as it had years ago. As I admired my comely reflection in the mirror, I noticed something very unusual. The age lines that had recently started to appear on my face had vanished. I looked like I was nineteen again. “Good God,” I thought, “maybe I have regressed to the age of nineteen!” Again, I felt unsophisticated and naive, and in need of the protection of my older husband.

No matter how hard I tried that day, I could not get myself to take the wedding dress off. I just wanted to savor the feeling of being a new bride. And all through the day for some reason Erica’s memories were very prominent. I found myself reviewing Erica’s life as if it were my own. When Steve came home from work, I greeted him at the door in my wedding gown. I asked him to carry me across the threshold into our bedroom. He seemed quite pleased by my request, and gave me a deep kiss that made me melt in his arms. He looked my face over carefully, and I wondered if he noticed that I looked younger. Then he lifted my tiny body in his strong arms and carried me into the bedroom. He put me down, and started unbuttoning the back of my dress. I yielded demurely. We consummated our marriage before dinner.

Monday, November 24 Dear Diary,

Things are going so wonderfully that I have a hard time making myself write in my diary. But something rather unusual happened today. At first it was frightening, but then it changed my perspective on this body swap entirely. Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

I arose before Steve as usual today. After fixing myself up quickly, I made him a delicious breakfast. He left for the day, and I went about my business at home. I turned on the radio in order to listen to some music. Soon, I was enjoying Mariah Carey and some other Top 40 artists. I started dancing around the house, really shaking my girlish little body. The music was so infectious! It made me want to move! The funning thing is that neither the original Erica nor I have listened to this kind of music since we were teenagers. I sure enjoy it now, though.
My love for teeny-bopper music makes me think that I really have been regressed into an immature nineteen year old. In general, I find that I am more impulsive and less sure of myself, just like a girl in her late teens. I have not questioned Steve about the change, however. After all, being young is every woman’s dream.

After I finished “getting down” in the living room, I got ready for the day. I fixed my hair and make-up, then put on a full, red gingham dress with scoop neckline and platter collar. My appearance was most pleasing. I was in the middle of my daily cleaning when it happened. As I was dusting the living room with a feather duster, I felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo and confusion. Then Erica’s memories, which have continued to be prominent lately, flooded over me. It was overwhelming! So far, I had been able to access Erica’s memories when I needed them. Even though her memories had been strong of late, I had been in control. Now they were filling my awareness all at once, and I could not stop them. And, strangely enough, they seemed to be my memories. I remembered Erica’s high school prom as if it were my own. I remembered attending college for two years and living in the girl’s dorm. I remembered arguing with my sister over a boy at the age of 12, and playing dress-up in my mother’s clothes at the age of six. I remembered my first date with a boy, the time I was elected Homecoming Queen in college, and I again remembered the thrill of my wedding day. It seemed that I was drowning in Erica’s memories. I lost all awareness of myself and my surroundings. After that, I was conscious only of the flood of memories. This went on for almost an hour before it finally stopped.

When I came to myself, I was lying on the living room floor. I got up, stumbled on my pumps, and almost fell down again. I walked cautiously to the bathroom and looked myself over in the mirror. My reflection was pale and wan. I felt extremely different, but at first I did not know why. Then I understood. Erica’s memories had really become mine. They were clear and easy to access. Too easy to access. When I thought of my father, Erica’s father came to mind. When I thought of getting married, all I could remember was being escorted down the aisle in my white wedding gown. Steve’s memories were gone altogether. I knew that I had once been Steve, but I could remember nothing about being Steve. The specifics of his life were gone, except for what I knew about him as Erica.

Staying bonded with this body for so long had robbed me of Steve’s memories and made Erica’s memories mine! I tried hard to reconnect with Steve’s memories, with absolutely no success. His memories were completely lost. Confusion reigned as I struggled to reject my feminine memories and find Steve’s missing memories.

In the middle of this struggle, I became aware of a powerful inner conviction that I was Erica. I felt like I was Erica, like I had always been Erica. Steve was someone else, someone alien from me. The memories I had tried to retrieve were actually the rightful property of someone else! My God! I had made the complete transition from Steve to Erica! I was Erica now! I had somehow been locked into Erica’s memories and her very identity.

I stood there stunned. I had Erica’s body, her memories, and now I knew at my core that I was Erica. There was nothing of Steve left. I did not want to be Steve. I loved who I was. I adored being Erica. It was wonderful being softly feminine, voluptuously sexy, and passively submissive. The thought of becoming Steve again was suddenly horrifying. How could I give up wearing dresses and make-up? How could I give up my long, blonde curls and my luxurious, red fingernails. How could I give up my obedient feminine role in life and return to the aggressive cut-throat world of men? There would be no one to lean on, no one to take care of me!

At that moment, I realized what I would have to do. Somehow, I would have to convince Steve to let me stay Erica forever. I would have to convince him to remain Steve. A plan began to form in my head. He had liked my submissiveness. Perhaps I could convince him of the advantages of remaining a man and having an obedient wife at his beck and call.

When Steve came home that night, I was all ready. This time I greeted him at the door in high heels and jewelry — only. I was wearing dangling gold earrings, a gold chain around my neck, and gold bangles on both arms. My hair was carefully brushed, and it cascaded down below my shoulders. My make-up was perfect, especially my wet, ruby-red lips. My heels were fully five inches, and a gold anklet was on my left ankle. The rest of me was bare — totally exposed.

Steve was surprised, of course. But before he could speak, I spoke up, “This seemed like the best way to serve you tonight, darling. I want you to be able to inspect every inch of your property tonight, as I wait on you. And I want you to know that as long as I am in this body, I am your personal property. My sole desire in life is obeying your masterful will.”

With that, I took his suitcoat, tie, and briefcase and scampered out of the room. I came back with his slippers, and repeated my little act of kneeling and massaging his tired feet. I could feel myself slipping into another trance as I served him. It felt so wonderful to serve my husband, naked and on my knees. It seemed gloriously submissive. As I finished his foot massage, he finally spoke.

“Show me just how well you obey, Erica,” he said in a commanding tone. “Kiss my feet to show your respect for me. Kiss my feet, and acknowledge that you are my slave and my possession.”

His powerful will made me melt. I could not resist the command. There was just no strength left in me. My will was gone; I was now an extension of him. I kissed both of his feet obediently, and licked his toes for good measure. He looked down in approval.

After the foot massage, I served him a hearty dinner. The table was set for him only, to acknowledge the difference in our status. I had left a bell by his plate, so he could ring for me whenever he needed me. I took dinner in the kitchen, and listened carefully for the bell.

After dinner, I served him a glass of whiskey in the living room. I knelt on the floor, avoiding the furniture, again to emphasize my subservient status. We watched the news for awhile, and after it was over I requested an “audience.” He agreed, seeming to like my choice of words, and gave me permission to stand. I prepared to present my proposal.

“Do you think we could make this body swap permanent?”, I asked humbly in a meek voice. I looked down at my tiny feet in their elegant high heels, not daring to look up at him. “I would like to remain the woman — forever. I promise that I will be everything that you want me to be. And more. I will serve you always.”

“Of course you can stay in that body permanently,” Steve replied. “I am going to enjoy living as a man. And I am going to enjoy watching you live out your life as a woman, particularly as the feminine creature that you are now. But I have some conditions for making the body swap permanent. You can only remain Erica if you agree to my conditions. Do you want to hear them?”

“I do!”, I answered eagerly.

“First, you will always obey me. Second, you must always look beautiful and feminine. In fact, never again in your life are you to ever wear pants. Third, you must bear as many children as I choose to have. And finally, if you ever go back to work it must be a woman’s job only. You could be a beautician, nurse, or secretary. Something like that. Do you agree to my conditions?”

“Yes,” I said breathlessly. His conditions excited me. They were just what I wanted out of life. It sounded perfect.

So today was a red letter day. I became Erica permanently. I have the body, the memories, the personality, and the identity. I know that life will be wonderful.

After our talk, Steve made plans to have a party on the next Saturday night. He called about a dozen people from the phone in his study, and then gave me instructions on preparation for the party. It appears that I will be serving the guests. He was very mysterious about the whole thing, but I bet I will enjoy myself. It sounds like it will be a fun party!

Saturday, November 29 Dear Diary,

Tonight’s party is over now. It was full of surprises, just as the last weeks have been full of surprises. I learned a lot about what has happened to me in these past few weeks. It turns out that there was more going on than I knew. In a nutshell, it seems that I have been set-up. You would think that I would be angry over what has been done to me, but I am not. I guess that I have just enjoyed it too much. But, as usual I am ahead of myself. Let me go back to the beginning.
I spent most of the day cleaning, cooking food, and preparing hors d’oeuvres. At 1:00 p.m., I got a phone call from Steve. He told me that my attire for the night was hanging in the closet in his study. He told me to put it on immediately, and explained that he would inspect my appearance when he arrived home. I went into the study and opened the closet door, curious about what I would find. Hanging there was a black French maid’s outfit, complete with a number of accessories. My mouth dropped open. I would be waiting on all of those people as a maid rather than a wife! I flushed with embarrassment. Everyone would know that I was his little handmaind! I reluctantly carried the clothes into the bedroom, in order to prepare myself.

Despite my embarrassment, I quickly got turned on. In fact, I shook with excitement as I donned the outfit. I felt so submissive! First came the black fishnet hose, attached to a garter belt. Then the dress itself. The outfit had a square-cut front and short, puffed sleeves. The skirt was a mini, only coming to mid-thigh. Then I slipped on the petticoat, which made my little skirt stand out. A lace-trimmed, white apron tied around my waist, and a maid’s cap went on my head. Around my neck went a black choker. Finally, I put on the five inch black heels that Steve had left for me. An ankle strap tied held the heels on tightly, but they were extremely difficult to walk in. It required careful, delicate steps I added dangling gold earrings and bangles on both arms. Then I inspected myself in the mirror. I certainly did look like a maid. I could not help but feel subservient in this maid’s outfit, and I started to fall into a trance again. Wearing this outfit felt good; there was no way I could deny it. After all, serving was my place in life now!

I continued cleaning and cooking for the rest of the afternoon. The maid’s outfit continued to hae the effect of emphasizing my submissiveness, and I slipped deeper into that pleasant trance. Before Steve got home I touched up my make-up so I would look just right. I wanted to be the perfect little French maid.

When Steve got home, he was obviously pleased with my appearance and my preparations for his party. The guests started arriving at 7:00, but I was banished to the kitchen before anyone showed up. As I finished my food preparation, I could vaguely hear the voices of our guests arriving in the living room. Strangely enough, I only heard the voices of women. I heard no men except for Steve.

At 7:30 Steve came into the kitchen and told me to start serving wine and hors d’oeuvres. I carried a tray fo wine glasses out of the kitchen, toward the living room. It was quite a struggle for my weak little body to carry the tray gracefully, but I managed. As I emerged into the living room, I saw Steve and a dozen women seated there. All eyes were on me. Twelve sets of eyes widened in amazement when they saw me. There was a feminine murmur around the room, and I heard a few of the women say “Oh my god!” And “Can you believe it?” I recognized the women in the room, and my head started spinning at the implications. Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure as I offered drinks to the ladies. Then I fled the room, anxious to escape with the excuse of getting more wine.

Back in the kitchen I sat down and tried hard not to faint. Those women were the members of the original Erica’s coven of witches. I remembered them all, since I now possesed Erica’s memories. I knew one member of the coven particularly well. Elaine, my younger sister, was a member of the coven. Seeing Elaine also reminded me of my wedding dream, a dream that she had been a part of.

If the coven was here with Steve, that meant that they knew all about the body-swap. They knew that I had been Steve and that Steve had been me. After all, they must have come to see their fellow witch-turned-warlock. And, more than likely, Steve was showing me off to them. He wanted them to see what a subservient wife I had become!

I flushed with embarrassment. I was totally exposed to this group of women. The last thing that I wanted to do was return to the living room, but I did not dare defy Steve. Picking up another tray of wine glasses, I went back to the living room. The women were talking quietly with Steve, but they watched every more I made. I was unable to stop blushing, and I was shaking as well. There was nothing I could do, though, but play my role as maid. I offered my tray of wine glasses to the women who still needed wine, and returned to the kitchen for the food.

I spend the evening handing out hors d’oeuvres and refilling wine glasses. I doubt that I made the best of impressions. I was too embarrassed to look anyone in the eye. Instead, I kept my eyes averted in a submissive fashion. Repeatedly, I found myself blushing. Because I was so self-conscious, I tried to rein in my feminine mannerisms. I did not want these women to know just how feminine and womanly I had become. But my attempts to control myself failed desperately. The more I tried to restrain my femininity, the more girlish I became. My walk turned into a mince. My hips swung freely and my breasts jiggled rhythmically with each step. My voice seemed to go up in pitch even more. I was completely unable to hide my feminine nature.

After I had served the party for well over an hour, Steve began a meeting of the coven of witches. I was instructed to stand in the middle of the room, where all the witches could continue to look me over. I flushed red with shame, but did as I was told. What choice did I have?

Steve called the meeting to order, then began a lengthy speech, “This is an historic meeting of our little coven. I have accomplished something with my magical powers that has not been done in centuries. Soon, you will each have the opportunity to work the same magic that I have worked. I will help each and every one of you obtain the kind of power that I noew have. Then together we will change the world.

“I am going to start with a brief summary of this little miracle. A few of you already know all the details, but most of you know only the basics. This story will fill in the gaps for you. Even Erica is going to learn a few new things.

“As you know, the woman standing in front of you used to be a man. His name was Steve, and you all knew him. He occupied the body that I now own. I was Erica, your female friend, leader of this coven, and also the wife of Steve. Not long ago, I discovered a spell in an old tome of magic about switching bodies with a member of the opposite sex. The spell fascinated me, and I could immediately see the opportunity it offered. I was able to convince Steve to let me use the spell to temporarily swap our bodies. He did not really like the idea, but he finally agreed to live in Erica’s body for a few days while I spent the time in his body. He did not know that I intended for the body swap to be permanent. He had no idea that he was being set-up.

“You see the spell did more than just swap our bodies. As Steve left his body, his life essence was stripped of all it masculinity. Every bit of maleness was taken from his helpless spirit and given to me. At the same time my femininity was transferred to him. The spell then bound us each to our new bodies, so that the body swap would be almost impossible to reverse. Once the spell was over, Steve had been completely transformed into a woman. He was now a she named Erica. I, of course, was now Steve in all ways. I then convinced the new Erica that she had only temporarily acquired Erica’s female personality. She believed that her femininity was merely due to the feminine memories stored in Erica’s brain.

“Only later did she realize that she was far more feminine than the original Erica. By then I think it was too late for her to escape the spell, if escape was ever possible. You see, I have created a unique creature with this new Erica. Up until now, all men and women have contained a mixture of masculine and feminine elements. In men, masculinity predominates but there are feminine elements. In women femininity predominates, but minor masculine characteristics are present. Well, the new Erica is pure femininity. She has no masculine qualities left, thanks to my spell. She carries all the femininity that the original Erica had plus the feminine elements of the original Steve. Likewise, I now carry all of the masculine qualities that both Steve and Erica had. We are the first of a new breed of men and women.

“It quickly became apparent that my spell had succeeded completely. The new Erica was overcome with the joys of femininity. She reveled in femininity. Before I knew it, she had permed her hair and obtained a complete make-over. She absolutely loved wearing dresses, and started complaining about wearing pants. She was utterly submissive, and could not restrain her female sexuality. The longer she stayed in the body, the more feminine she acted. Later, I was able to create a magical dream of a wedding. In that dream she took a mystical vow to accept her newfound femininity. She did not fully realize that implications of her vow; once she made it she had no chance of ever regaining her former manhood. During the same dream, I was able to regress her in age back to nineteen-years old. This made her even more pliable and controllable. It made her sexier as well, which is something the man in me can now appreciate. The final step of the spell gave her Erica’s memories and her total identity, except for Erica’s knowledge of witchcraft. (I have kept the knowledge of magic for obvious reasons.) She has become Erica so completely that she would fight switching back to Steve. Even what I have just told her, in your presence, will not change her desire to remain Erica.” He turned to me. “Aren’t I right, dear?”

My head was spinning. This had been a trap all along! I burned with humiliation, but I was not angry. As embarrassing as this situation was, I could not get mad. I knew that he was right. I did not want to go back to being Steve, despite what I now knew. “Yes, dear,” I said. “I want to remain Erica.”
“And why do you want to remain Erica?”, he asked.

“Because I am a woman,” I answered shyly. “My place is to serve you, and I like that.” Even though I was telling the truth, I wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. Revealing this was humiliating. The group of women murmured in amazement.

“You see?”, Steve said. “I have her right where I want her. How many of you would like to rob your husband of his manhood and turn him into your subservient wife? How many of you would like to command the kind of power I now have? Wouldn’t you like to hear your husband meekly submit to your rule as Erica has submitted to me?”

The group replied with a chorus of assents. I realized that I was the first in what might become a long line of turnabout women.

“We will be a new breed of men,” asserted Steve. “We are willing to take the masculine power we want and make it ours. We will be incredibly strong because of our magical skills and our total command of masculine power. No one will be able to stand against us. And we will create a new breed of women, who have been stripped their masculine strength and then trapped in a life of total femininity!” A cheer erupted from the room. The women loved it!

One of the women stood enthusiastically, and approached the place where I was standing in the middle of the room. I recognized her as Victoria, and remembered that she was the only lesbian in the coven. She circled me and eyed my body hungrily. Victoria is a tall, athletic-looking woman, with jet black hair and sexy, Italian features. Her lusty attention stirred my own sexual instincts, and I struck a more daring pose.

“This is one fine young lady you have created here,” she said. “She really turns me on. I can’t remember the last time I have wanted anyone so much. Will you loan her to me tomorrow night, big guy? I could ride her all night long!”

“Sure you can Victoria. I believe in sharing with my friends. And let me tell you, she is a hot one to screw!”, Steve replied generously.

I swallowed visibly. Now that I was Steve’s property, he could share me with anyone! And tomorrow night he was going to share me with another woman! My discomfort at the thought of having sex with another woman was offset by a sense of excitement. Being taken by this woman would be a turn-on. I no longer remembered having sex with women as Steve, but I knew that this would be very different. This woman wanted me for my soft, shapely body, and my hot love-mound. She did not want a man. She would make me hers for the night, and I would yield to her.

Victoria turned toward Steve and went on with excitement, “I want to be one of the first ones to get a new body. Then I can go out and pick up all the straight babes I can find. The only problem is going to be finding a man to switch with. I obviously don’t have a husband like the rest of you.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” said Steve. “We will figure something out, and before you know it you will be a man, too. Then you and I can go and pick up “babes” together, while Erica waits at home for me.” Steve and the women all laughed. “One more thing, before we get back to the festivities. I want to make sure that one doubts my total control over Erica. Erica, dear,  undress for us. I want you to be naked tonight as you serve us. That way, all of us can admire your body. And Victoria can get very, very horny.”

I blanched white, but immediately started undressing. I knew that I had no choice.