Boy Sorceress Pt. 01

I stopped that and looked lower. Ashley's waist was narrow, her stomach flat and her navel indented. She didn't have pubic hair. She didn't have hair anywhere, I realized. Apart from her golden locks and expressive, brown eyebrows, she was completely hairless. She didn't have any fuzz on her upper lip. There was nothing on her forearms and legs. Her hips were wide, particularly for her slender form, and I turned around to admire the tight ass. I gave it a spank and laughed. It was definitely my own ass I spanked.

I turned back around and gazed between my legs. Seeing no dick, this whole thing stopped being funny in the least. Yeah, looking at naked Ashley was cool and all, but WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY DICK?!

My heart raced a million miles an hour as I struggled to draw my next breath. My new chest was smaller than my older one, and it suddenly seemed completely inadequate for the vital task of breathing. I stumbled over to a window and threw it open, desperately gulping air.

I leaned out over my windowsill and blinked away tears. This could not be happening.

"Hey," a voice called to me. I looked around. The window was looking over the backyard on my apartment building and I searched for the source of the voice. It wasn't in the backyard. It wasn't in the back alley. I looked up and saw a face in one of the windows of the apartment building across the alley. It was a young man with dreadlocks. He was nodding and smiling at me. "Lookin' good, missy!" He winked.

I stared at the idiot, completely baffled by his comments. I was a guy that was hallucinating being Ashley Williams, not Ashley Williams hanging naked out of a window. I guessed that I was probably hallucinating the neighbor, too. He did look quite ridiculous. White guys in dreads always do. My panic momentarily forgotten, I got up and closed the window. I drew the curtains, too. "Jackass," I muttered.

Another look at the closet mirror confirmed that there was no trouser snake hanging between my legs. "Fuckity fuck." The legs were slender and nicely shaped, but they stood weirdly wide apart. The insides of my real thighs were almost always touching each other, that's how much muscle I had there. These legs stood so wide that it seemed like I could lay my new, small hand flat between them.

I tried that. My index finger was against the inside of one thigh, my pinkie against the other. I felt like I was cupping my balls. It was genuinely disturbing, touching a body part my eyes said I no longer had. Touching such an important body part. I shuddered from head to toe. I wanted my cock back.

I took my hand off and decided I needed a shower. Aside from the fact that I was dirty and that there was some debris tangled up in this long hair that was hanging off my head, I usually got a nice chub in the spray and squeezed one off. A big part of me hoped I'd get a boner under the spray. It'd emerge from my smooth crotch, and I'd come to my senses and turn back into me. The magic of manly erection was going to restore my sanity.

I turned the water on and adjusted it just the way I liked it. When I stepped in, however, it was too cold against my skin. I bit back a girly shriek and readjusted, thinking I had just gotten it wrong on the first try. When I got the temperature right, I realized the angle was all wrong. The showerhead was pointed to where my head usually was, a foot above me. I watched the water pass over my head and felt my hair remain dry, even though I was standing in the exact spot that should be getting it wet.

My transgendered delusion was strong enough to fool even my most basic senses, wasn't it? The tightening lever on the shower stand was so high up that I couldn't reach it. This whole I'm-a-girl-thing was getting scary convincing. I reasoned that a big part of my brain was simply acting against me. It was fooling me into seeing a girl in my mirror, feeling my hair to be long and dry, it was also keeping me from raising my arm all the way. That was all.

I played along, still hoping my erection would break through all my mental barriers. I tugged on the shower tube until it came loose from the stand. I grabbed it and held it up to drench my hair. Showering with one hand holding the showerhead can be quite tedious in itself, but I only needed one hand to jerk off with, right?

I always started my showers by washing my hands and that was now impossible, so I skipped that step. Washing my hair seemed like further feeding the delusion, so I decided to skip that part.

I picked up a simple bar of soap and lathered my stomach. I washed the lather off and shivered. The spray felt nice actually. I started to lather my tits and gasped at how hard the soap felt against them. I had to set the soap down and wedge the showerhead between its stand and the tiled shower wall to free up both of my hands. I proceeded to make a rich lather in my hands and then rubbed it into my tits. It felt spectacular. The tits were so sensitive. The erect nipples sent small sparks of pleasure to my very core.

That was very confusing. Usually, my nipples were as sensitive as Donald Trump on the campaign trail. I ignored this sensation and proceeded to use my washcloth on a stick to wash my back. My hair started getting wet then, since it was covering the upper half of my back and I hadn't thought to move it out of the way beforehand. I sighed and decided to go all the way. I held my head under the spray and shampooed it. It took a hell of a lot more shampoo than usual and washing it out was a lengthy chore, but I got it done in the end.

My lower half was next on the list. I started with my ass and ran the bar of soap across the smooth skin of my buttock. It felt good. It felt really good. Shivers ran up my spine. I massaged the lather into my smooth flesh and smiled. I was getting turned on. There was no hard cock straining against my jeans, but there was no denying the feeling. I was in the zone.

I let my hand wander to my front. There was nothing there to clasp. I was still feeling horny, so I reached lower and cupped my balls again. It felt awesome. I tenderly caressed my scrotum. It was flat against my crotch, but it felt like itself again. I was concerned at not being able to feel my balls roll around, but I was soon distracted. I was getting a boner. The mouse was leaving the house. I could feel my head emerge from my foreskin. I was so sensitive. There was moisture coming from the slit in the middle of my scrotum, but I ignored it and trailed my hand upwards to tickle my mighty shaft.

It wasn't there. My hand just skipped over it and reached my glans. My fingers felt huge as two of them cupped it completely from both ends. I winced and let go. It was a painfully strong pinch, not a caress. I touched my pisshole with just the tip of my index finger and shuddered. It felt so good. I kept using the very tip of my giant index finger to circle my cockhead and the sensations were strong enough to make me forget about everything else.

My whole body was tightening and relaxing in the same rhythm as I was circling my glans. Girly gasps and squeals were escaping my lips, but I didn't care. An orgasm was approaching and I wanted it. I needed it. I sped up my ministrations and my glans suddenly retreated under my foreskin. I didn't care, it was even more sensitive now and I kept circling, only slightly increasing my pressure.

My knees were buckling and my shaking legs threatened to give out under me. That was very unusual, I was used to standing stiff straight as my moment was arriving, but I glossed over it. I pressed myself against the shower wall and screamed with joy as the cool tiles pressed into my nipples. It was like there were tiny arcs of electricity running from them straight down to my crotch. My whole body was heaving in their wake and I was amazed at how big this orgasm was going to be. I ought to be long done by now.

As I pressed the side of my face against the cool tiles, I couldn't stop myself from moaning aloud. I was so fucking close. I just needed to run my finger down the underside of my cock and I'd erupt in pleasure. I slid my middle finger lower and felt it go down the ridges that connected the underside of my dick to my foreskin.

Wasn't my foreskin covering those? I didn't care. The finger slid even lower and entered a moist, hot cavern. At the same time, I could feel it slide down the underside of my dick. My dick was spongy under my finger, which was weird, but my finger on my dick felt too good to quit.

My glans emerged from its cocoon once more and the smallest touch set me off. My crotch exploded with pleasure. Lightning arced up my spine, forcing all my muscles to tighten. Rosy light flashed over my shut eyelids as I screamed out in joy. My whole body shuddered, from my head to my toes. It was the best feeling I ever had in my whole life. My middle finger slid over the right spot and my orgasm increased, making my whole body convulse in a rapid rhythm and blanking my mind. My skin burned as my innards danced with joy. I collapsed to the floor of the shower, each move of my two fingers setting off more explosions in my brain. I was lost in an ocean of pleasure.

At length, I was brought to my senses by the very,very cold water that was cascading over my skin. I jumped up, slipped, steadied myself with the shower stand, and turned the water off. I had been so out of it from jerking off that I had used up all the hot water. The small building didn't have a very big water heater, so that wasn't that big a feat. Just washing my hair and rinsing it out probably took more than half of what it had.

I was shivering with the cold and I carefully stepped out of the shower to grab some towels and start drying myself. Do you know how you get used to everything in your house looking like it does when you're standing straight? Try standing a foot shorter while your body keeps telling you you're standing up straight! Everything just looks off. The sink was at the wrong height. The toilet was a step too far. I could barely see the top of my blonde head in the mirror above the sink. It all piled up to make me uncomfortable.

I got back into the bedroom and checked in the mirror there. I was still Ashley, except my hair was wet and plastered to my back now. Drying it was going to be a bitch.

All of a sudden, I was struck by a flash of anger. Why was this happening to me? Why did I go crazy and start hallucinating human sacrifices and werewolves and being Ashley? Why did I just cum like that?

As spectacular as the orgasm had been, it had also felt completely wrong, on a very basic level. Every time I used to cum, I tensed up and my body made every effort to help me expel my seed. Those were the kinds of twitches I always felt with orgasm. Full body stretch, stomach clench and then the balls are emptied while my pelvis humps forward. This time, however, my body just shuddered in an almost exactly opposite way. The position of my limbs was irrelevant to my pleasure. They just shuddered in cycles of tensing and relaxing. My whole body had done that in waves that radiated from my crotch.

It felt like I had been drawing something into my body and in doing so getting pleasure. That was just wrong.

I felt my ire rising and I glared at the gorgeous woman in the mirror. She screamed back at me in rage. I screamed some more. I was done with this shit. I was done with fucking hallucinations and delusions and debt and fucked-up knees and fucking flowers beinginside my brain.

I clenched my hands, imagining what it would be like to crush the blue flower and be rid of it. I screamed in anguish. My scream was quickly cut off as a bucket of cold water suddenly splashed down my shoulders and back. My balance was thrown off and I took a step back to steady myself.

In the mirror, I was staring back at myself. My real self, Kevin Parker Hewitt. No human being in all of recorded history had ever been so happy to see their own face as I had been at that moment in time. Or their own genitals. My dick and balls were swinging happily in their rightful place between my muscular legs. The delusion was over, all was well.

I knelt before the mirror and kissed my own reflection and babbled nonsense for a few tearful minutes.

My joy at the restoration of my sanity was somewhat tempered by the flower still being in my brain. However, it was now just a shy, little bud with no visible symbols on petals. I tried imagining what it would be like to be rid of it completely. I mimed plucking it with my hands, stomping on it, or even spraying it with an herbicide. All I got in return was my downstairs neighbor pounding on his ceiling with a broom.

Ah, well, one small step a day, right? Just like Skip said. Today I crushed the flower that was at the heart of my delusion. Tomorrow, I'll get rid of it completely. Overwhelmed with joy at the sight and feel of my dick being back in its rightful place, I jacked off. Just to test things.

After cleaning up my jizz, I had to dry my hair. I told myself that my back wasn't really wet. I told myself that the water hadn't slid off Ashley's long hair as it turned into mine and spilled down my back. It was all just the final remnant of my delusion. I still wiped it off my back. There was no point in suffering discomforts like walking around with water dripping into my crack.

I went into the kitchen to have a proper breakfast and celebrate my sanity. I turned on the TV for some background noise and set about pouring myself some muesli and yogurt. I was happily humming to myself as I surfed the local channels. They all seemed to be banging on about some breaking news. Those never held my interest, so I switched to some of the bigger networks. They were also reporting on breaking news.

Now I frowned. Maybe it was something important? I settled on a random channel and tried to make sense of their urgency and fascination. I nearly choked on my food when I saw Riverside mentioned on their scroll.

It read, "...ghoulish mass suicide in Riverside - FBI to head investigation into possible terrorist connection." Then it went on to mention other stories.

The anchor was asking somebody about "the event". The somebody was an older, Hispanic woman that started talking about how it was the working of a dangerous cult. Her image was then made smaller and placed next to two other images, one showing the anchor and the other showing a young, fat man that was interrupting her by saying this was all just a prank. The woman angrily responded by reminding the man that thirteen corpses do not constitute a prank.

I felt like I was being stabbed in the ribs with frozen knives as she said those words. Thirteen corpses? Cult?

I shook my head in silent denial. All the memories of last night flooded back into my mind and I was again a powerless guy, perched on a branch, feeling scared out of his mind. It took a lot of effort and willpower to shove them into the background and focus on the here and now. The very delightfully werewolfless here and now of my crappy apartment, looking nice on a sunny, warm, fall morning.

The anchor announced a new guest to their panel and a fourth miniature screen was added. The man in the screen was an older, haggard-looking white man, who wasted no time in announcing that this was the work of the government that has been poisoning the air with chemtrails for decades and that their program of...I stopped listening at that point.

I needed a fucking drink. This could simply not be true. The flower bud in my brain seemed to be mocking me. I decided the best course of action would be to call someone and ask them what was reality. Only not in those words. I'd ask them if they'd seen the news, obviously. I looked around for my phone, but remembered it was smashed in my backpack by the front door.

I winced and walked over to the landline, but remembered I didn't know anyone's phone number by heart. I had lost my entire address book when the phone went splat.

Shit.

I went back into the kitchen when I heard the anchor say they were going live to the scene. On the screen, a young blonde squeezed through a throng of her colleagues and held up her microphone to the Riverside Sheriff's mouth as he angrily said, "No comment!" The camera cut back to the reporter who started talking about how residents of Riverside had been shocked to learn of the mass beheading that happened last night, right in the center of town.

Mass beheading? Mass fucking beheading?! What the fuck?!

The chick kept on telling her little story, instead of informing me of the facts and I nearly yelled at the screen. I'm a goddamned resident of Riverside and I've yet to properly learn of the fucking beheading. Just give me the fucking facts and quit narrating my life, you fucking dolt! Why do the news always do that? Why are they telling stories, instead of reporting facts?

I was just about to switch channels to find some actual information, when she said, "I was also able to speak to one of the people who had stumbled onto the gruesome scene before the police came and cordoned off the area."

Oh, bury the lede, why don't you?

"Here's what he had to say to us about it!"

Come on, Blondie, come on!

The screen showed a short, pale-faced man with coppery hair and moustache. His eyes were red and puffy and he looked like he might puke at any moment. "What did you see?" the blonde reporter asked him from off screen.

The redheaded man sighed and drew a deep, shuddering breath. He blinked his eyes clear and began stuttering, "Ye-yeah, I, I was walking out my dog, I, I, I mean I was out with my dog, walking and...and it was very early and...he started barking. Rex is such a good dog, he never barks for no stupid reason. He, he, he's a good dog. He, uh, he started dragging me, you know? Pulling on the leash and growling, real, uh, real bad, you know?

"And I was all, like, what's up boy, what's the matter? And he was just pulling and barking and I let him lead me to the square and that's when I saw it. That...that's when I saw them."

Get to the point, man! Get to the fucking point!

The blonde took the microphone offscreen and asked, "What did you see?"

Atta girl, Blondie!

The redhead's chin quivered before he said, "The bodies." He barely held off a bout of tears and gasped for breath. "They...they were dead." He sniffled and cleared his throat. "Their heads were cut off. They were holding the knives that they used to cut their own heads off in one hand and the other hand still had their own heads clutched in it. They were dead, but their fingers were still clutching the hair on their own heads!"

The redhead was starting to get hysterical and weepy and the screen froze briefly on his expression of anguish. He looked exactly how I felt. This was real, wasn't it? There had been a sacrifice last night, I had been turned into a girl and thirteen people were dead. There was a fucking werewolf on the loose somewhere out there, probably sniffing around, trying to find me. I didn't even want to think about the hot, Asian necromancer and the weretiger and whatever the fuck the rest of the thirteen nutjobs had turned themselves into.

The universe had done it again. It had come up with a novel way to fuck me over. When those thirteen butchers had started this thing, I bet the universe said, "Nope. Can't be done. Your proposal violates all the basic laws of science that govern reality. It is denied." But then it realized that would give it a shot to shove its fist up my ass, so it reversed its position and gave the cultists the go ahead, on the condition that I be there, too.

I looked out my window. More than seven billion people on the planet andI wind up the one stumbling across this shit. If that isn't proof positive that the universe hates me, then what is?