Supernatural
2003-08-04

“Who are you?!” Justin spat, his heart racing. “What are you--?!” But he stopped, as not only did her mouth move as his, her voice was the only one he could hear. He stared at the girl for about a minute, and held up three fingers. She did the same, and he began to smile a little. “What a weird dream. . . ” he said in a small, high voice. Suddenly, his attention was drawn away from the girl as a knock came on the door. “Justin! Time to get up!” Justin blinked and thought to himself, surprised his mother was in this fantasy as well. “I’m awake!” He responded out of habit. There was a pause, then, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine!” He yelled back. There was another pause, and his mother opened the door. Justin darted behind the open bathroom door and turned sideways, trying to become invisible. Even in a dream, he thought, he didn’t want his mother to see him like this. “Justin.

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  . ?” came his mother’s worried voice. “Do you have a girl in here?!” Justin clenched his fists and tried to remain silent, and his mother’s voice was heard again. “Look, I don’t want any games. Just get dressed. Breakfast’s on the table. ” Still cowering behind the door, Justin heard his bedroom door shut and his mother’s footsteps fade away. Letting out a sigh of relief, he stepped back out and looked in the mirror again. The blonde girl still looked back at him, though her face was now wrought with anxiety. Thus was the metamorphosis of Justin Koffman. It came in the night, though whether it was done all at once or through a slow process, no one could be certain. Nor could anyone know who or what had done this to him. The only thing for sure, as Justin realized while pinching his arm and staring into the mirror, was that it had happened; it was real. For a while, he sat on his bed and thought hard about what was going on. He tried to end it, to wake up, but he was already awake.

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   He felt ill, and began to imagine the ramifications of it all. Could he ever convince his family of the truth? Would he ever change back? He looked down and saw a pair of breasts molding curves into his white shirt. Beyond that, his legs were smooth and hairless. He dared not even think of what lay between them. Not right now. He began to come out of denial as his mother’s voice drifted up the staircase. “Are you dressed yet?!” She demanded. “Hang on a second!” Justin said in his still unnatural voice. He cleared his throat and tried to speak softly in a low voice, but failed. His mother turned in surprise as a form darted past her and opened the front door. “Gotta go, I’m late for work,” Justin croaked, and slammed the door behind him. Turning back to the kitchen counter, his mother shook her head and returned to preparing breakfast. In a nearby shop window, Justin studied his reflection. With messy hair, no bra, and baggy jeans, the girl he saw looked kind of punk, and he almost laughed to himself at the thought. He turned away, and sat down on the sidewalk, leaning back against the store wall and thinking to himself.

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   As he saw it, there was really only one way to go. Since he couldn’t be sure if and when this curse would end, and he couldn’t fit in with his family as the Justin they knew, he decided it would be best to try and fit as this girl. Walking down the street a little ways, he came to a salon. Looking in at the pink interior, the old ladies sitting around reading newspapers, and the bubblegum-chewing stylists, he winced a little, but opened the door and went in. The receptionist took a good look at him, and he knew she was judging him, almost scoffing at his appearance. He signed his name, and began to walk away to take a seat, when the lady called to him. “Justin?” She asked. Blushing, he turned around, walked back to the desk, and added an “e” to the end of his name. “Sorry. ” He said quietly. With some difficulty, Justine managed to explain herself to the stylist, and ended up getting a nice haircut and a recommendation of places to buy clothes. After a quick breakfast at Burger King and a mental note to refer to herself as a “she,” Justine headed for the mall. West End Mall, though familiar to Justin, was completely foreign to his better half. She was lost in a whirlpool of vendors hawking their latest pair of $80 pre-faded jeans and pop star endorsed sunglasses. She headed for JC Penny’s and shyly meandered over to the girls’ section, but quickly realized she had no idea what her dress, cup, or shoe size was.

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   Dragging a dozen variations of jeans, tank tops, panties, bras, and Keds, she stumbled into the changing room and latched the door. Piling the articles onto a bench, she looked at herself once again in the mirror. Slowly working her way down from her neatly parted hair, pale blue eyes, and sweet lips to her supple breasts and flat stomach, Justine unbuttoned her jeans and let them drop to the floor, reveling well-proportioned hips, smooth legs, and an out of place pair of plaid boxers. “You know. . . ” she said to herself quietly. “I’m kind of hot. ” She blushed a little and smiled timidly, turning sideways in front of the mirror, then back. With an anxious sigh, she grabbed the white shirt and pulled it off over her head. She put it down and turned back to the mirror, ogling her own chest. Her breasts were round and firm, though not very large, and had soft pink nipples accentuating their perfect shape. Eyes wide, Justine stared longingly at their form in the mirror, then looked down at herself. Over the shape of her breasts, she slipped her fingers into her boxers and pulled them down. As she looked into the mirror once again, her heart rate doubled.

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   Greeting her now was a small patch of light brown fuzz guarding a pair of small, pink lips that were by now partly open and moist. Unable to resist, she brushed her fingers over herself and felt a wave of pleasure that sent a chill up her spine. She sighed and shook her head, blushing profusely. “Not now,” she said softly, still smiling. She rummaged through the pile of clothes and tried on a pair of pink cotton panties with a little heart sewn on the front. They seemed a little tight, but Justine decided they looked the way panties are supposed to on a girl, so she took them off and put them in the “keep” pile. She turned to the side and studied her chest, not able to resist playing with her breasts a little, and decided she was probably a B cup. She searched through her pile of bras, and found one she liked. It was hard to tell if it was right, though, because they all felt too tight, and it was difficult work getting them on and off. After nearly an hour in the dressing room, Justine finally emerged victorious, having put together an ensemble that she felt looked pretty normal. Smiling confidently, she walked back into the dressing room after paying and put her new clothes on, leaving the old ones behind. And so she left JC Penny’s, and immediately spied a man nearby checking her out. She could see his eyes wandering over her pink tank top, down to her midriff, then to her white Capri pants as she walked past. Stopping in disgust, she turned back to the guy, who looked away, pretending he hadn’t been staring at her ass. “Dude!” Justine said in semi-disbelief.

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   “I can totally see you, you pervert!” The man blushed and sheepishly apologized as others around him began to stare. Walking away, Justine began to wonder how much of her mind had been changed with the gender switch. Already, she felt comfortable enough with herself to cause a scene, and had she overreacted with that guy? How would a real girl have handled that? Was that feminism on her mind?! These thoughts and dozens of others raced through her head as she walked on, but she stopped in surprise as three other girls approached her. “Oh my God. . . ” said a young girl with dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She looked to be about sixteen, and was staring at Justine with a look of amazement and respect. The other two, an Asian girl with big hoop earrings and a sweet-looking girl with pigtails, had the same look on their faces. “That was awesome!” Said the second girl. “You totally caught that guy!” Added the third. Embarrassed and a little unsure of herself, Justine smiled politely and responded that she was just surprised someone would be so obvious about it. Two hours later the four girls emerged, giggling and talking energetically, from the food court, each sipping on sodas. Caught up in the moment, Justine could only think that she had never had so much fun in her life. Being perfectly honest, she told the girls she had nothing to do that day, and so she, Mandy, Mackenzie, and Sarah wound up poolside at Mackenzie’s giant house.

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  With a swim suit borrowed from her host, Justine swam and sunbathed happily until dinnertime, when Mandy and Sarah had to leave. “Your parents are awesome!” Mackenzie said enviously as Justine told her she didn’t need to be home, or even contact them at all in regards to her whereabouts. “Yeah. . . ” Justine said dismissively, thinking of her Mom and what she might be going through. The two ate dinner, watched movies until dark, and talked for hours. Justine forgot about her Mom, about the morning, and about her old life. Being a girl was just more fun. But as the night wore on, thoughts of her masculine-based sexuality crept back into her head as the conversation grew more interesting. Mackenzie was lying on the bed with her arms behind her head, dressed in a t-shirt and panties. Lying next to her was Justine, who was dressed in similar attire. Justine had been, in a more calm and darkened atmosphere, looking her own body up and down, occasionally running a hand over the curves of her breasts and hips. As Mackenzie spoke, Justine turned her thoughts to her friend, tracing her eyes over another set of beautiful curves and smooth legs. “Have you ever, you know.

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. ” began Mackenzie. “Had sex?” Justine asked, surprised at her own boldness. It was pretty late, she thought. “Yeah. ” Mackenzie replied. Justine had, but not as a girl, so, “No, have you?” “Nope. ” Mackenzie said, still staring up at the ceiling. There was a pause, and Mackenzie sat up, looking down at her new friend. She bit her lip and looked into Justine’s blue eyes with nervous excitement. “D’you wanna. . . You know, mess around?” Justine blinked a few times and processed the question very carefully before responding.

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   She sat up and looked at Mackenzie, her mind racing. She should say no, shouldn’t she? What would a real girl do?! Maybe she should say yes! Still considering the prospect, she was startled as Mackenzie slid a hand up her leg and around her hip. They looked each other in the eyes, and something clicked. Two minutes later, the two girls were standing in the bathroom, and Mackenzie was turning the shower on. As steam from the water rose up, she turned back to Justine and pulled her shirt off. Her breasts stood free, a little smaller than Justine’s, and were as tanned as the rest of her. With some hesitation, Justine removed her own shirt and bra, which she had become much more adept with. Mackenzie slipped her black panties off, revealing a patch of dark hair, and headed into the large shower. Justine did the same and followed her in, a little nervous. Inside, there was a bench on the back wall of the shower, and Mackenzie was sitting there, one leg over the other. She looked Justine up and down, and smiled a devilish smile. “You sure you want to do this?” Justine asked, but they both knew the answer. Without a response, they stepped forward and kissed each other, their breasts rubbing together. They sank slowly to the floor, locked in a passionate embrace, and leaned over until Justine was on her back. The water cascaded over Mackenzie now, and her breasts hung down over her friend.

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   Her legs spread, Mackenzie leaned down and kissed Justine again, rubbing her pussy against her partner’s. Justine felt wonderful and secure below her, and massaged Mackenzie’s breasts with her free hands. After a while like this, Justine sat up and told Mackenzie to take her place. She did, and Justine used her prior life's experience to rub their slits together with hard, even strokes. Mackenzie moaned and opened her eyes wide as Justine rubbed against her and bent over to massage and suck on her breasts. But as in charge as she felt, Justine had no experience with this kind of pleasure, and felt herself getting weak. She brought a hand between them, fingered both herself and Mackenzie, and thought of baseball. It helped a little, and arching her back, she held off her climax until Mackenzie got hers, then proceeded to collapse on top of her, a pure warmth of sexuality glowing deep within her. She lay there for a while on top of Mackenzie, the hot water streaming over her, and drank in the feeling of being a girl. Their wet bodies lay together as one, intertwined with arms and legs embracing each other. She leaned over and they lay facing each other on their sides. Justine kissed Mackenzie sweetly and softly, and ran a hand up from her thigh to her breast, squeezing it gently. “Next time,” Mackenzie whispered into her ear, “we’ll have to bring Mandy and Sarah. ” Justine squeezed her legs around one of Mackenzie’s at the thought, and thanked God for her metamorphosis. Justin Koffman awoke one balmy summer’s morning to find himself in a peculiar state.

 

   He felt groggy and disoriented; the walls of his small, plain room seemed to be revolving around him at a dizzying pace. Shaking his head, he sat up and threw back his covers. He focused on three red numbers displayed on his digital clock. Finally, he was able to calm his confused mind and make out the time. It was seven in the morning. He stood up and rubbed his head as he plodded across the floor to the bathroom. His hand became stuck in a tangle of hair, and he muttered under his breath. He reached for the doorknob, which he had done at least twice every day of his life since he was able to touch it, but missed low. His hand clumsily hit the painted wood below the handle, and he looked down at it in mild surprise. As he did so, he noticed there was a large fold in the chest of his shirt, and he tugged at the bottom to get rid of it. Much to his surprise, however, the fold seemed to be more of a lump. He opened the bathroom door and looked into the mirror with a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite understand. As he flipped on the light, the image that greeted him was not his own, but one of a girl. With wide eyes, she stared at him, and he looked at her tangled, bleached blonde hair, her pale blue eyes. .

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  . Reacting out of instinct, he jumped back and began to apologize to the girl. But realizing that he didn’t know her, he crept back into the bathroom and peered through the mirror once again. There she was, looking back at him with the same out of place expression. “Who are you?!” Justin spat, his heart racing. “What are you--?!” But he stopped, as not only did her mouth move as his, her voice was the only one he could hear. He stared at the girl for about a minute, and held up three fingers. She did the same, and he began to smile a little. “What a weird dream. . . ” he said in a small, high voice. Suddenly, his attention was drawn away from the girl as a knock came on the door. “Justin! Time to get up!” Justin blinked and thought to himself, surprised his mother was in this fantasy as well. “I’m awake!” He responded out of habit.

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   There was a pause, then, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine!” He yelled back. There was another pause, and his mother opened the door. Justin darted behind the open bathroom door and turned sideways, trying to become invisible. Even in a dream, he thought, he didn’t want his mother to see him like this. “Justin. . ?” came his mother’s worried voice. “Do you have a girl in here?!” Justin clenched his fists and tried to remain silent, and his mother’s voice was heard again. “Look, I don’t want any games. Just get dressed. Breakfast’s on the table. ” Still cowering behind the door, Justin heard his bedroom door shut and his mother’s footsteps fade away. Letting out a sigh of relief, he stepped back out and looked in the mirror again. The blonde girl still looked back at him, though her face was now wrought with anxiety. Thus was the metamorphosis of Justin Koffman.

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   It came in the night, though whether it was done all at once or through a slow process, no one could be certain. Nor could anyone know who or what had done this to him. The only thing for sure, as Justin realized while pinching his arm and staring into the mirror, was that it had happened; it was real. For a while, he sat on his bed and thought hard about what was going on. He tried to end it, to wake up, but he was already awake. He felt ill, and began to imagine the ramifications of it all. Could he ever convince his family of the truth? Would he ever change back? He looked down and saw a pair of breasts molding curves into his white shirt. Beyond that, his legs were smooth and hairless. He dared not even think of what lay between them. Not right now. He began to come out of denial as his mother’s voice drifted up the staircase. “Are you dressed yet?!” She demanded. “Hang on a second!” Justin said in his still unnatural voice. He cleared his throat and tried to speak softly in a low voice, but failed. His mother turned in surprise as a form darted past her and opened the front door.

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   “Gotta go, I’m late for work,” Justine croaked, and slammed the door behind him. Turning back to the kitchen counter, his mother shook her head and returned to preparing breakfast. In a nearby shop window, Justin studied his reflection. With messy hair, no bra, and baggy jeans, the girl he saw looked kind of punk, and he almost laughed to himself at the thought. He turned away, and sat down on the sidewalk, leaning back against the store wall and thinking to himself. As he saw it, there was really only one way to go. Since he couldn’t be sure if and when this curse would end, and he couldn’t fit in with his family as the Justin they knew, he decided it would be best to try and fit as this girl. Walking down the street a little ways, he came to a salon. Looking in at the pink interior, the old ladies sitting around reading newspapers, and the bubblegum-chewing stylists, he winced a little, but opened the door and went in. The receptionist took a good look at him, and he knew she was judging him, almost scoffing at his appearance. He signed his name, and began to walk away to take a seat, when the lady called to him. “Justin?” She asked. Blushing, he turned around, walked back to the desk, and added an “e” to the end of his name. “Sorry. ” He said quietly.

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  With some difficulty, Justine managed to explain herself to the stylist, and ended up getting a nice haircut and a recommendation of places to buy clothes.

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After a quick breakfast at Burger King and a mental note to refer to herself as a “she,” Justine headed for the mall. West End Mall, though familiar to Justin, was completely foreign to his better half. She was lost in a whirlpool of vendors hawking their latest pair of $80 pre-faded jeans and pop star endorsed sunglasses. She headed for JC Penny’s and shyly meandered over to the girls’ section, but quickly realized she had no idea what her waist, cup, or shoe size was. Dragging a dozen variations of jeans, tank tops, panties, bras, and Keds, she stumbled into the changing room and latched the door. Piling the articles onto a bench, she looked at herself once again in the mirror. Slowly working her way down from her neatly parted hair, pale blue eyes, and sweet lips to her supple breasts and flat stomach, Justine unbuttoned her jeans and let them drop to the floor, reveling well-proportioned hips, smooth legs, and an out of place pair of plaid boxers. “You know. . . ” she said to herself quietly. “I’m kind of hot. ” She blushed a little and smiled timidly, turning sideways in front of the mirror, then back. With an anxious sigh, she grabbed the white shirt and pulled it off over her head.

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   She put it down and turned back to the mirror, ogling her own chest. Her breasts were round and firm, though not very large, and had soft pink nipples accentuating their perfect shape. Eyes wide, Justine stared longingly at their form in the mirror, then looked down at herself. Over the shape of her breasts, she slipped her fingers into her boxers and pulled them down. As she looked into the mirror once again, her heart rate doubled. Greeting her now was a small patch of light brown fuzz guarding a pair of small, pink lips that were by now partly open and moist. Unable to resist, she brushed her fingers over herself and felt a wave of pleasure that sent a chill up her spine. She sighed and shook her head, blushing profusely. “Not now,” she said softly, still smiling. She rummaged through the pile of clothes and tried on a pair of pink cotton panties with a little heart sewn on the front. They seemed a little tight, but Justine decided they looked the way panties are supposed to on a girl, so she took them off and put them in the “keep” pile. She turned to the side and studied her chest, not able to resist playing with her breasts a little, and decided she was probably a B cup. She searched through her pile of bras, and found one she liked. It was hard to tell if it was right, though, because they all felt too tight, and it was difficult work getting them on and off. After nearly an hour in the dressing room, Justine finally emerged victorious, having put together an ensemble that she felt looked pretty normal.

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   Smiling confidently, she walked back into the dressing room after paying and put her new clothes on, leaving the old ones behind. And so she left JC Penny’s, and immediately spied a man nearby checking her out. She could see his eyes wandering over her pink tank top, down to her midriff, then to her white Capri pants as she walked past. Stopping in disgust, she turned back to the guy, who looked away, pretending he hadn’t been staring at her ass. “Dude!” Justine said in semi-disbelief. “I can totally see you, you pervert!” The man blushed and sheepishly apologized as others around him began to stare. Walking away, Justine began to wonder how much of her mind had been changed with the gender switch. Already, she felt comfortable enough with herself to cause a scene, and had she overreacted with that guy? How would a real girl have handled that? Was that feminism on her mind?! These thoughts and dozens of others raced through her head as she walked on, but she stopped in surprise as three other girls approached her. “Oh my God. . . ” said a young girl with dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She looked to be about sixteen, and was staring at Justine with a look of amazement and respect. The other two, an Asian girl with big hoop earrings and a sweet-looking girl with pigtails, had the same look on their faces. “That was awesome!” Said the second girl.

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   “You totally caught that guy!” Added the third. Embarrassed and a little unsure of herself, Justine smiled politely and responded that she was just surprised someone would be so obvious about it. Two hours later the four girls emerged, giggling and talking energetically, from the food court, each sipping on sodas. Caught up in the moment, Justine could only think that she had never had so much fun in her life. Being perfectly honest, she told the girls she had nothing to do that day, and so she, Mandy, Mackenzie, and Sarah wound up poolside at Mackenzie’s giant house. With a swim suit borrowed from her host, Justine swam and sunbathed happily until dinnertime, when Mandy and Sarah had to leave. “Your parents are awesome!” Mackenzie said enviously as Justine told her she didn’t need to be home, or even contact them at all in regards to her whereabouts. “Yeah. . . ” Justine said dismissively, thinking of her Mom and what she might be going through. The two ate dinner and watched movies until dark, and talked for hours. Justine forgot about her Mom, about the morning, and about her old life. Being a girl was just more fun. But as the night wore on, thoughts of her masculine-based sexuality crept back into her head as the conversation grew more interesting.

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  Mackenzie was lying on the bed with her arms behind her head, dressed in a t-shirt and panties. Lying next to her was Justine, who was dressed in similar attire. Justine had been, in a more calm and darkened atmosphere, looking her own body up and town, occasionally running a hand over the curves of her breasts and hips. As Mackenzie spoke, Justine turned her thoughts to her friend, tracing her eyes over another set of beautiful curves and smooth legs. “Have you ever, you know. . . ” began Mackenzie. “Had sex?” Justine asked, surprised at her own boldness. It was pretty late, she thought. “Yeah. ” Mackenzie replied. Justine had, but not as a girl, so, “No, have you?” “Nope. ” Mackenzie said, still staring up at the ceiling. There was a pause, and Mackenzie sat up, looking down at her new friend.

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   She bit her lip and looked into Justine’s blue eyes with nervous excitement. “D’you wanna. . . You know, mess around?” Justine blinked a few times and processed the question very carefully before responding. She sat up and looked at Mackenzie, her mind racing. She should say no, shouldn’t she? What would a real girl do?! Maybe she should say yes! Still considering the prospect, she was startled as Mackenzie slid a hand up her leg and around her hip. They looked each other in the eyes, and something clicked. Two minutes later, the two girls were standing in the bathroom, and Mackenzie was turning the shower on. As steam from the water rose up, she turned back to Justine and pulled her shirt off. Her breasts stood free, a little smaller than Justine’s, and were as tanned as the rest of her. With some hesitation, Justine removed her own shirt and bra, which she had become much more adept with. Mackenzie slipped her black panties off, revealing a patch of dark hair, and headed into the large shower. Justine did the same and followed her in, a little nervous. Inside, there was a bench on the back wall of the shower, and Mackenzie was sitting there, one leg over the other.

 

   She looked Justine up and down, and smiled a devilish smile. “You sure you want to do this?” Justine asked, but they both knew the answer. Without a response, they stepped forward and kissed each other, their breasts rubbing together. They sank slowly to the floor, locked in a passionate embrace, and they leaned over until Justine was on her back. The water cascaded over Mackenzie now, and her breasts hung down over her friend. Her legs spread, Mackenzie leaned down and kissed Justine again, rubbing her pussy against her partner’s. Justine felt wonderful and secure below her, and massaged Mackenzie’s breasts with her free hands. After a while like this, Justine sat up and told Mackenzie to take her place. She did, and Justine proceeded to use her experience as a guy to rub their slits together with hard, even strokes. Mackenzie moaned and opened her eyes wide as Justine rubbed against her and bent over to massage and suck on her breasts. But as in charge as she felt, Justine had no experience with this kind of pleasure, and felt herself getting weak. She brought a hand between them, fingered both herself and Mackenzie, and thought of baseball. It helped a little, and arching her back, she held off her climax until Mackenzie got hers, then proceeded to collapse on top of her, a pure warmth of sexuality glowing deep within her. She lay there for a while on top of Mackenzie, the hot water streaming over her, and drank in the feeling of being a girl. Their wet bodies lay together as one, intertwined with arms and legs embracing each other.

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   She leaned over and they lay facing each other on their sides. Justine kissed Mackenzie sweetly and softly, and ran a hand up from her thigh to her breast, squeezing it gently. “Next time,” Mackenzie whispered into her ear, “we have to bring Mandy and Sarah. ” Justine squeezed her legs around one of Mackenzie’s at the thought, and thanked God for her metamorphosis. .