Alicia

A Harlequin romance novel can be so boring to read. What do girls see in them anyway? Alicia, can't you pick anything interesting? Guys like to read Tom Clancy, or Nelson DeMille, or Dan Brown or Dale Brown.

Seconds after picking up the book off the desk I noticed the bookmark somewhere in the middle of the 1.25-inch thick stack of pages. Out of curiosity I turned the pages to the bookmark. Within two sentences I knew that I was reading a love scene, just not one written the way a guy would have written it. The author is obviously a woman appealing to a woman's sensitivity rather than a guy's wish to read a descriptive sex scene.

Anyway I plopped down onto the bed, held the book in front of my face and soon became engrossed in the story. Meanwhile I raised one foot, lowered it after a few seconds then raised the other foot.

I felt different about three minutes after I had begun reading so I looked in the mirror. I was the only one in my bedroom so I should've seen a male 5 8 and 150 pounds reflected in the glass. Instead I saw a girl, a smoking hot girl, but still a girl. She has breast-length dark-brown hair. She has bright-red heart-shaped lips and brown eyes.

I hurried to the bathroom to step on the scale but I also had to pee. The scale registered 125 pounds.

Holly crap on a cracker. I lost 25 pounds.

I reached for my dick which had melted away forcing me to pee sitting.

Nervousness had caused me to sweat so I opted to take a shower.

My body had become curvaceous as well as smaller softer and lighter.

The funny thing is that during those minutes when my body was morphing I had been totally unaware that a transformation was in progress. How did this happen? Why did this happen?

Twentyfour hours later I resumed reading the romance novel. Two pages later a handsome guy came into my bedroom.

Holy crap. Alicia has an identical twin. Wait, I transformed so she must've transformed as well.

My eyes met his eyes. He approached the bed slowly locking his lips to mine. Kissing him feels so good.

Alicia liked wearing a Sweetheart frill-trim knot-front ruched-back polka dot top exposing deep cleavage. I had donned that same style top that morning at 7 o'clock.

Alan pulled off his teeshirt inviting me to caress his body. Minutes later I am lying naked under him locking my lips into his lips.

He soon penetrates making me moan softly with delight. I Don't want him to stop. I drape my arms around his shoulders and my feet around his shins. He rocks gently sliding his penis back and forth tapping my G-spot.

The sun is at 4 o'clock. Wearing swimsuits under our clothes, Alan and I walk toward the surf. A few steps ahead of us the boardwalk descends onto the beach.

We both know what happened to us yesterday. Which one of us would be the first to talk about it.

"Transforming into a woman is the best thing that ever happened to me. I was shocked at first."

Alan gave a silent nod so I asked, "do you like being a guy."

His sense of humor never fails him.

"What should I do with the money I save not buying tampons?"

I giggled. "You can give it to me."

This transformation is a bizarre turn of events. Before it happened we were lovers. We're still lovers.

We picked out a spot just a few steps from wet sand and stared at the breakers. Seagulls glided over the water. Some even landed, walked a few steps then took flight again. Their calls are audible over the rustle of breakers.

He said, "nude bathing is allowed here."

"I know," I replied. "My ex boyfriend wanted to skinny dip."

The phrase "ex boyfriend" was lost on him.

Seconds after the words came out I stripped off my top.

"I used to have boobs like that."

"I know and thanks for the gift," I quipped.

I stood up to strip off the bikini bottom then walked a few steps putting my toes in the water.

Alan's hand was on my ass so I turned to see him naked.

"Later tonight you can do me on this beach but not now."

He chuckled at my remark.

Darkness shrouded the beach. The moon cast a highlight on inky black swells.

Alan eased me onto the beach blanket. Like the day before, he made love to me with passion.

We had both changed in other ways. The authors I used to enjoy reading now repulsed me. Just give me a sappy romance.

The same could be said about Alan. He expressed an interest reading the novels in my bookcase so I gave them to him.

Hallmark channel romantic movies, the "chick flicks" hold a certain allure for me. On a subconscious level I can remember the titles of every movie Alicia had watched on that channel.

Alan would not watch them with me.

I woke that morning a month after the transformation and reported to work at the office of Davidson, attorney at law.

Though only the legal assistant for a short time, I felt as though I had been there for years. I knew that Alicia had been there for ten years.

Attorney Sharon Davidson is a personable fifty-something woman. She and I engage often in girl talk. All those inconsequential things that women find so appropriate make enjoyable conversation. Alan would rather talk about baseball, a conversation that I suddenly find to be dull.

A Monday evening sees Alan and me enjoying a leisurely dinner at the kitchen counter in my apartment. My boyfriend struck up a conversation about the construction company's current project, a house on Bolton Road. Having been part of that construction crew before the transformation, I already knew much of what Alan told me.

He added that "The house is almost complete."