Give and Take Ch. 02

I kept busy for about a month grinding on closing the deal. The appointed day came and went without incident and then work dried up. I kept trying to find the next project but the work just wasn't there. I was chasing my tail and it was starting to wear on the people below me and the people above me. After a couple of weeks of that, one of the partners gave me a friendly reminder that I hadn't used a vacation day since joining the firm.

Message received. And he had a point: I had long ago capped out the number of vacation days that I could accumulate, might as well burn some of them. But where to go? I had the time and money that I could go pretty much anywhere: tour Europe, fly to New Zealand, cruise the Caribbean. I was investigating that last option with some late night googling when a pop-up ad caught my eye.

Resort X: A Vacation from Yourself!

The official resort experience of the X-Change Corporation.

For the first time in a month I thought back to my night on the pill. Imagine cutting loose at a tropical resort in that body! A vacation from myself. That sounds amazing. Not that I'm unhappy, but escaping the stress and worries of everyday life: who doesn't identify with that? I rubbed my tired eyes before running my hands through my dark mane. Well, mostly dark. Some salt had started to creep in lately.

No such problems for female Ashley. The way she looked and felt, compared to my 36 years, hell, she was probably half my age. Vacationing as her, it would be like getting to do college spring break all over again. That settled it. For the first time in my life I clicked on a pop-up ad intentionally.

The website sold it well, the resort looked amazing. This would be better than college spring break. This was spring break if I had somehow had money back in college.

There was a dizzying array of packages available. In addition to the various room options, guests could bundle in various pill subscriptions for the length of their stay rather than purchasing a la carte upon arrival.

Some of the bundles were targeted to couples, providing a blue pill and a pink pill in a matched set for those who wanted to engage in a little role reversal. The most straight forward of these were the "Good Night" package, which featured 4 hour Lite pills like the one I had taken, and the "Day and Night" package which feature 24 hour Basic pills.

But there were more exotic flavors as well, such as the Bimbo pill that promised to turn the user into "the ultimate sex goddess with a mind and body built for pleasure." That sounded like a little too much escape from myself. A babymoon package included a Breeder pill that guaranteed conception. I shuddered as I scrolled the mouse wheel furiously. Not really looking to bring a souvenir back from this trip.

Just as the glut of options was about to force me into analysis paralysis, I scrolled back up to the perfect answer. How did I miss it before? The "Xtended Xscape package: a 28 night stay at the resort matched with the 28 day X-Tra Strength pill. Take one pill at the start and then focus on pleasure." Despite rolling my eyes at the brand-centric spelling, it seemed like just the ticket for someone looking to burn through a backlog of vacation days. And not having to worry about the awkwardness of my pill running out mid-encounter was pretty nice. A few minutes later I was confirming my credit card information, pleasantly surprised at the nice discount I received for booking an extended stay.

As the buying rush wore off, I leaned back in my chair and began thinking through logistics. Damn, 28 days, that's a long time. I guess I'm going to have to buy some new clothes!

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A few days later my sneakers squeaked across the hotel lobby, my luggage wheeling behind me as I navigated the crowds. The scene was chaos as bellmen ran about and guests waited in line to check-in or check-out. The vaulted ceiling was striking and impressive but did little to soften the crowd noise echoing off the marble floor and supporting pillars.

Despite the hubbub, the front desk clerk dazzled me with her smile as I approached the desk. She was distractingly beautiful, her pearly whites contrasted by her raven hair and large, expressive brown eyes that seemed to smile at me as well. She began to walk me through the check-in process with a natural chipperness and friendliness that made it seem like some mad scientist had set out to design the perfect customer service rep. Actually, given the nature of the place, I couldn't rule out a little artificial aid. As she explained the resort map to me, circling my room location and showing where the various amenities were, I nodded along as I studied her perfect features. She was certainly blessed, whether by birth or pill. Maybe she would have a drink with me? No stupid, don't hit on the staff, she's just getting paid to be nice to you.

"Our records show that you have requested a Pink X-Tra Strength for your stay Mr. Marion, is that correct?"

Oh right. Hitting on her was about to be a moot point. "Um, that's right." That's right babe, about to lose my dick for a month so: wait for me?

She continued on with her spiel, either oblivious to or kindly ignoring my identity crisis. "As I am sure you are aware, Pink X-Tra users will remain female long enough to experience a full female cycle and while it is a much lower risk during the first month, there is a chance of pregnancy. It is important for you to understand that any conception will result in a permanent transformation. We encourage our customers to practice safe sex and we ask that you sign a release."

"Got it, don't get pregnant" I chuckled as I read over the liability release.

"Oh we would never presume to tell our customers what to do with their new bodies Mr. Marion, we just want to ensure your choices are fully informed." That same dazzling smile.

I signed my name with a flourish and slid paper and pen back across the desk. "And your lawyers would like to ensure that I have voluntarily and knowingly assumed the risk right?" She was so damn pretty that she almost convinced me that the company actually gave a shit and wasn't just covering their ass. "Anything else I need to sign?"

"You're all squared away sir unless you have any questions."

"Actually, there is one thing. When you say full female cycle does that mean that I'll have to deal with umm, you know, a monthly issue?"

She flashed her pearls, obviously amused by my discomfort with the "period" word. "With rare exceptions a Pink user will not experience menstruation until the 29th day of her transformation. If you were to extend your transformation by taking another X-Tra or even a series of Basics and Lites prior to the expiration of your first pill, you would likely have a period on day 29 and then follow a typical female cycle. Your fertility would also gradually increase over time as your body settled into a regular cycle. Most users choose to let their X-Tra expire at least briefly before taking another round in order to avoid the inconvenience of menstruation and to reset their fertility to a lower level. Will there be anything else then?"

"I think I'm good, thank you though." Well that was a relief. Menstrual cramps were definitely not part of my spring break vision. I smiled politely before setting off in search of Room 127.

As I made my way towards the ground floor room I passed by the entrance to the Sunrise Cafe. Two immense sliding doors hung open, allowing music and the sound of excited conversation to spill into the lobby. Rough cut stone tiles led the way to an oak paneled bar that wrapped around a full 360 to serve customers on all sides. Not quite noon yet and there was already a sizable crowd. Seemed like this was the spot to be.

Inspired, I continued to my room with a quickened pace, anxiously hoping that the bikini I had bought for the trip would be the right size. I had only brought a few things, deciding in the end to leave most of my shopping until after my arrival, but a swimsuit for the pool was one the few essentials I had picked up in advance.

How fucking far away was this room anyway? Very end of the hall? Classic. I drop the key in the slot and withdraw it quickly, the motorized lock whirs and then a red light blinks. Handle won't turn. Second attempt. Denied. Okay, slowly put the key in and then out quick. Denied. In and out fast. Denied. "Fuck you door!" SLAM! The door remained closed but now my foot throbbed where I had kicked it. Okay, calm down, one more try before I go ask for a new key.

I was genuinely surprised when the light flashed green and the door swung open as I stared at the key, incredulous as to what exactly I had done differently on this attempt. I limped in and threw my bag on the bed before surveying the room. It was gorgeous, as expected from a high end resort, but it was the fluorescent pink box on top of the wet bar that caught my eye.

The packaging matched that of the Lite pill, but once inside the X-Tra pill was noticeably larger, a full size Tylenol gel capsule while the Lite had been the size of a baby aspirin. Without a second's delay I stripped down, filled a glass of water, swallowed the pill and then laid down on the bed to wait.

Maybe it was the stronger dose, but the shift seemed to kick in more quickly and more intensely than my previous experience. The vertigo was so I bad I felt sure I would throw up but then the feeling passed as quickly as it came. My eyes snapped open and I was drenched in sweat but otherwise felt great with none of the mental fog I had experienced adjusting to the Lite. Wow, that was a lot smoother. I hopped off the bed and landed lightly on my feet, feeling a surge of youthful energy that made me want to run and jump.

First things first though: I checked the clock on my phone and set an alarm for when my pill was going to wear off so I wouldn't forget and have a wardrobe malfunction a month from now. 9/25, 12:01 PM. On to the fun stuff: I opened the bag and dug out my swimsuit: light sky blue triangles held together by Italian sky blue ties. I had only been able to eyeball it in the store, but hopefully the string bikini approach would provide enough sizing flexibility to overcome the lack of proper fitting.

Lacing it up was easy enough but it didn't quite feel right. I wasn't particularly stacked up top but it still seemed like no amount of tugging and adjusting would eliminate the feeling that I was on the verge of spilling out. The bottom ties were redone tighter and tighter until they started to cut in slightly against my hips and yet I feared I was going to expose myself on the first dive under the water. Then there was the issue of having to dislodge the swimsuit from between my butt cheeks after every couple of steps. I already missed the days when I just spent all my female time naked.

Maybe the size wasn't right and I just needed to make a shopping trip before I did anything else here? Had to admit though, the suit looked pretty cute. I struck a pose in the mirror, jutting one hip out to accentuate the curve of my waist, admiring how it complemented my figure: the triangles giving a peak of cleavage, the bottom cutting in just enough on the backside to be cheeky and oh fuck me this is actually how it's supposed to wear isn't it? I had appreciated just such a look on many a beach trip. How do women wear these things? Seriously, I would be less self-conscious nude, it's like there was just enough fabric to make me aware of my nakedness.

Convinced that my bikini was in fact operating as intended, I began trudging back to the pool on bare feet. My preparation of female outfits wasn't particularly thorough and I had neglected to bring shoes. I debuted to resort society by entering the Sunrise with bare feet and a wedgie.

Not that anyone noticed, the hum drum of a busy bar and restaurant continuing apace. I looked around the place like the new kid surveying the cafeteria for a place to sit. The dining area was filled with couples enjoying lunch together. Dotted among the tables were a handful of older couples that I assumed were in their natural forms, but overwhelmingly I saw young looking, impossibly attractive couples that must be enjoying the blemish free forms provided by the pill.

"Table for one?" a perky brunette greeted me from the host stand as I stood in the doorway catching flies.

"Huh, oh, no, sorry I umm, I think I'll just sit at the bar, thank you." I forced myself forward towards the bar. There might as well have been a flashing neon sign above the bar screaming "MEAT MARKET" as the bartenders furiously slung drinks to thirsty singles while they brazenly appraised each other.

Curiously, the sex ratio of this particular marketplace appeared to be rather lopsided: I saw at least two females to every male. And while the men varied in age and appearance, the women clustered around the early 20's with flawless bodies. I immediately second-guessed my approach to this trip: if I had known I would have skipped the pill and just enjoyed the oversupply of gorgeous women. These guys were fishing with dynamite in a stocked pond.

As if to confirm my suspicion, I observed a thoroughly average 50 year old man leave with a brunette and a redhead on each arm at that very moment. That guy was a blonde away from a Neapolitan! And the only reason he was missing the vanilla was that the nearest blonde was too busy blowing a guy right under the bar.

A bar stool that wasn't fellatio adjacent opened up and I ran to daylight. I needed a fucking drink. Using the foot rest, I vaulted myself into a chair that I would have easily reclined into pre-pill, turning and situating myself in a less than graceful manner. I was still recombobulating myself when the man-bun sitting next to me spoke up.

"My friend is coming back, but she likes to help me break in new little takers so she won't mind sharing her stool. What's your drink, vodka crans? Or let me guess, you're a vino chick."

"Makers Mark actually" I replied distractedly, still too busy trying to get my hair back into place and making sure my swimsuit hadn't shifted too much to really follow what he was saying. "Wait, takers, really?" My eyebrows furrowed as I turned my full attention to him, that had to be one of the douchiest things I had ever heard.

"You are a taker right?" His eyes slowly dropped to my cleavage. "Though obviously not a Bimbo taker" he said with a slight frown as his eyes made an achingly slow trip back up to my face. "Always next time I suppose." His face lit up as he considered that prospect. He slapped the bar twice, the crack of his hand on the wood piercing the crowd noise and drawing the bartender's attention. "Barkeep! Three fingers of Makers for the taker!"

I rolled my eyes at the order. Fingers of bourbon: give me a fucking break. I plopped to the floor and bulldozed the vacated chair out my way to escape the crowded bar. The stool scraped across the floor obnoxiously, drawing every eyeball in the room to myself, but my desperation to abandon the greasy man-bun murdered any self-consciousness that I would have felt otherwise.

"What about your drink?"

I didn't reply, my legs pumping as I marched outside to the pool deck. As soon as I cleared the echoing walls of the bar the din receded, even before my eyes adjusted to the tropical sun. Each step forward carried me further from the noisy darkness into the calm heat until I plunged into the pool, ducking my head under the water into blessed silence.

I finally emerged at the far end of the pool, taking a lungful of salty air as I surfaced with dripping hair plastered down my back. Bobbing towards the wall, I drained and brushed back my bangs so that I could take in the vista before me.

As I propped my elbows on the edge I saw that this pool was only the highest point of a series of infinity pools, the water rushing past me to cascade down into terrace pools that stair-stepped all the way to the beach. I rested there for a while, palms cupping my chin as I watched the waves roll in and letting the sun dry my shoulders.

The resort enjoyed a spectacular location. Staring out at the eastern horizon, I resolved to come back tomorrow for the break of dawn. To my left, arrayed below the shallow hill the resort commanded, was the sleepy town of Newport, the closest thing on Janus Island to a proper city. To the right rose Green Mountain Peak, which had been rather generously named but still provided Newport with a degree of protection from the hurricanes that regularly blew through the Bermuda Triangle.

The bobbing water and ocean sounds had nearly lulled me to sleep when I heard a female laugh carry across the water with a crystal ring. Looking back, I spied three bikini clad beauties laying out towels on loungers, talking animatedly in the manner of old friends.

The author of the crystal laugh was front and center, a platinum blonde who stood tall on porcelain legs with a regal bearing that matched her royal purple swimsuit. She was flanked to one side by a pixie Asian wearing cherry red hair in a chin length bob that fell across one eye and a navy racerback suit. To the other side: a bombshell sporting jet black emo hair that matched the color of a halter top suit that threatened to burst from the strain at any moment.

I traced the blonde's line of sight to the source of frivolity: the black bikini bottoms were under just as much strain as the halter top and were tenting comically to restrain a barely tucked cock. My jaw hung open at the sight of a full blown futanari.

I had skimmed past the Purple pill offerings on the website, surprised there was even a market for such a product, but here before me was living proof that Purple customers existed. I couldn't help being curious about the emo futa. He was a rare sight, even more so after the arrival of the pill.

X-Change had practically erased the trans community overnight. People that suffered from gender dysphoria had been among the earliest and most enthusiastic adopters of the new technology, rushing out to beg, borrow and steal permanent transformation Plus pills at any cost. The bubbling debate over whether athletics, bathrooms and pronouns should be regulated by sex or gender was mooted out by the new ability to change sex on a genetic level, providing a rare peaceful resolution to a culture war.

It seemed like whatever self-identity people carried in their head, there was a Pink or Blue pill that would provide the actualization they craved. Yet this person had obviously chosen to occupy the half and half middle ground with a Purple pill. Why?

The blonde continued to tease her friend in a posh English accent. "No need to be embarrassed Morty, the size, it's impressive." Her eyes and words radiated mirth, even as she punctuated the sentence by biting her lip.

"Leeeet's just say it's a way of compensating for what it is off the pill."

Huh: Purple pill as male enhancement, well that was interesting. But since Blues had no effect on natural males, it sort of made sense as a solution for a guy bound and determined to use the pill to get a bigger dick.

As I contemplated the creative workaround, the blonde caught my eye and gave me a wink.

Oh fuck, did she catch me looking at Morty's bulge? Looking away in embarrasment, I began paddling back to the other end of the pool. I never did get that drink. Fortunately, there was a small swim-up tiki bar that wasn't nearly as crowded as the interior bar. Apparently all the bikinis around here were just for display, they weren't actually meant to get wet.

In fact, there was only one man sitting at the bar at this particular moment. I was just about to claim a stone stool one spot down from him when I spotted man-bun, Bimbo in tow, squinting into the sun as he looked about.