The Girl in His Reflection

Jules, feeling an overwhelming sort of panic and discomfort, stood, and pointed himself at the bathroom.

'Jules-!' Ben shouted after him, but it was no use. Jules wasn't interested. In a moment, he was in the bathroom, door locked and the bright white light flickering on.

Then, in the largest mirror in the flat, above the sink and taking up most of the wall, he saw himself. He saw someone else.

Strangely, his first thought was, 'She's pretty.'

The girl before him, staring back from his reflection, was pretty. She was small, inside his t-shirt, but her chest was noticeable against the material. Her hair was long and smooth and shiny. Her facial features were soft, but they echoed what he knew of his own face. Without his glasses, there was a slight blur to everything, but he wasn't that blind.

And there - around the girl in the reflection's neck - was the choker.

Jules went beneath the sink, and found his contacts - less-often used than his glasses, but he wasn't leaving this room for a minute, and his glasses were in his room. So, after a quick application of them - and an apparent confirmation that this 'transformation' hadn't affected his eyesight, Jules looked in the mirror again.

That same girl stared back. Cute. A worried look on her face.

Jules leaned in, getting a close look at his face - there was a small scar beneath his chin that was still there, though it was usually hidden slightly beneath a thin layer of stubble. Now, it was clear to see.

This was still him. His body. Just... changed.

Jules took a breath, and reminded himself that he hadn't seen all of it, yet. So, after steeling himself a little, he grabbed the bottom of the t-shirt and lifted it off. Quick, like ripping off a plaster.

And, just like that, he was looking at tits.

Nice tits.

Pert, and slightly large on his newly-slender and lithe form. Not huge, but they did seem quite... full. He'd seen enough boobs to recognise that any boob was perfect - some were larger, smaller, hung lower or were more perky.

Somehow, the boobs he'd been given in this transformation were just about his favourite type. He'd never say any boob was bad, of course but a man has preferences.

Just larger than a handful, with the nipples pointing slightly upwards. They shifted and bounced slightly as he moved, doing a soft shimmy in the mirror to watch them bounce. They looked good. So good it was almost making him feel uncomfortable - like he'd stumbled in on a woman checking herself out in an intimate moment.

But there was no woman. Well, none besides him.

Wait - was he a woman now? He still felt like himself, and could feel the stupid caveman part of his brain that liked tits getting excited by what he saw - but, he also knew women who liked women also liked tits, so that didn't rule anything out.

For simplicity, he decided he was still himself. At least until anything proved him wrong.

Jules shimmied again, before cupping them in a hand-bra. They felt warm, soft, and the cool skin of his palms was nice against them. He could already tell they were more sensitive than his chest usually was. His nipples grew hard under his hands, like little pencil erasers, and the touch of his palms on them sent little shocks of pleasure through him.

He held them up a little, and dropped them, watching how they bounced - and also noticing how heavy they felt on his chest. He was having to adjust his posture, either drooping a little to absorb some of the weight, or straightening up properly to keep everything properly aligned.

His boobs - pert and bouncy - looked like something from his dreams, but they weren't the only part of him that had changed, of course. His whole frame had changed, translating his slender-but-strong body from when he was a guy into the female equivalent. He wasn't completely skinny - definitely not model-stick-thin or anything like that, but his muscles had translated into a fairly flat stomach, some visible strength in his arms and shoulders, and a waist that came in before his new, wider hips took shape.

Turning, he could see the new butt he'd grown. It was, again, bigger than what he'd had as a guy, but didn't seem out of place on the body he had. In fact, if this was a woman he had seen on the street or something, he'd think she looked good - in shape, with some curves and a butt that looked perky.

He jumped, and it barely bounced. He poked it, through the jogging bottoms, and felt it was pretty firm. He cupped it, knowing that, if this was on a girl he was with, he'd love to fuck her doggystyle - it was the kind of butt that asked to be spooned.

Next, though, came the part he'd been kind of dreading. He hand slid from his butt as he turned front-on to the mirror again, and he cupped his crotch.

There was something... significant missing.

'Fucking hell,' Jules sighed as the reality of what was happening started to take hold. What had happened, what had happened to him. It started to hit home.

Tentatively, and after taking a deep breath and making sure the room was locked, Jules dropped the jogging bottoms to the floor, and took a look.

'Well,' he sighed, not sure what he was expecting.

His thighs were smooth, the hair more fair instead of the thicker, more dense leg hair he was used to; they were more shapely, too, but there was a clear presence of muscle, just like in his arms - he had retained his relative fitness. Then, there, in the middle, was what he cared about.

Where he would expect to see a flaccid penis and soft presence of brownish pubic hair, and two balls hanging happily in place, there was, instead, a trimmed vulva.

The hair was still there, though again seemed slightly less coarse or thick - but maybe that was just his mind. His fingers danced across the hair, and he could feel the soft lips of a vulva. He moved them, feeling the strange casualty of it.

Typically, he only really touched one during sex - when it was wet, and promptly before either eating it, or slipping a finger or his now missing penis inside. It was... weird.

He explored for a moment, feeling the warmth of it, the slight stickiness. He figured if he was to get a good look, he'd probably have to lie back and get a mirror, or his phone or something.

'Oop!' he yelped, swallowing the sound as his fingertip, while delving between the lips and spreading them apart, slipped across what he could only assume was his clit. It sent an unexpected glimmer of pleasure through him that felt unlike anything he'd known before. Sharp, but not uncomfortable.

And, all of a sudden, his other ministrations across his new pussy began to feel... good. Like, really good.

Jules pulled his hand up, taking a shaky breath, knowing that that was a slippery slope. Of course, he'd wondered what it would be like for a girl to masturbate. Hell, he'd watched his fair share of porn of women getting themselves off, and had both eaten and fingered girls to orgasm before. He was no adonis, but knew his way around the bedroom enough to know what to do - but this was different.

He felt hot under the collar. Well, he would, if he was wearing anything with a collar. Instead, he was butt-naked aside from the collar, and now his nipples were hard and his pussy was wet.

'Fuck,' he said, cursing himself for getting worked up. Practising as much restraint as he could muster, he pulled the jogging bottoms back up, feeling how he had to pull the material a bit harder to get it over his now-luscious rump, and grabbing Ben's tee off the floor. With one last wistful look at his tits, committing them to memory as though he might blink and they'd be gone, he pulled it back on. 'Okay, Jules,' he said. 'Time to figure this shit out.'

#

Despite everything that had happened - with Jules'... change and the mystery person who'd done this to him, or, at least, left the choker with him, likely knowing what it would push him to do - it was still Saturday. They worked from home on weekdays, which was something Jules didn't even want to think about, but they were also students.

They had plans. With friends.

Jules had already ruled out going outside - he flat-out refused. He and Ben had, earlier in the week, organised to go to their friend Elliot's DnD session, because they were those types of guys, but he'd already sent a text to them saying he was ill. Ben hadn't done the same, and was insisting on going.

'Look, man - I took a screenshot of the guy leaving our place, of his face. I'm going to ask around - no details, of course, but just to see if anyone recognises him.'

He was getting ready, which in Ben's world meant getting dressed, making sure he had keys and headphones, and then just... going into the world. To Jules, who now felt trapped within not only his home, but this body, it seemed almost rude how easily Ben was able to go outside.

But he was right. 'Yeah - just, don't tell anyone, yeah?'

'Honestly, man, they wouldn't believe me even if I did. You good to be on your own while I'm gone? Not gonna have another existential crisis in the bathroom?'

Ah, Jules thought. That's what he thought I was doing.

'I'm good,' Jules said. 'The shock's over. Go, do recon, tell people I'm ill, holed up in my room.'

Ben nodded. 'Sure, dude. Elliot's already said don't worry about tonight, by the way.'

Jules smiled, but saw a look flash across Ben's face. 'Cool.'

Ben kind of put his head down, then, a little awkward, and held up his phone. 'Text me if you need anything... girly.' And, just like that, he was gone, before Jules even had a chance to respond. The door shut behind him, and Jules was alone.

Sat on the sofa, in the quiet of the mid-morning, an odd sensation began to settle in. Now that the panic and the confusion was wearing off, and there was no immediate danger, Jules found himself quite... relaxed. And that relaxation led to him paying a little more attention to the little things. Things he likely wouldn't have even bothered to think about, usually.

For example, sitting as he was on the sofa, he found that the usual urge he'd have to spread his legs a little, to alleviate a slightly-uncomfortable pressure on his groin, was completely absent. He also found that, as his body was all-round smaller, now, when he sat right to the back of the sofa cushion, his knees no longer crossed the edge, meaning his legs couldn't bend - instead, they stuck out and hung off the edge.

When he looked at himself, he found there was a strange disconnect between what he saw, and what he felt was 'him'. Because, at a glance, the soft slip of hip in the gap between the tee and the joggers, that showed a little hipbone and the smallest of gaps going down into the dark of the joggings, it was like an invitation.

He'd have to remind himself that it was his hip bone. His invitation.

An invitation that, of course, had crossed his mind. He wasn't an idiot - and after the bathroom examination, he had to admit he was curious. Who wouldn't be?

He waited a cursory ten minutes after Ben left, to be sure he wasn't going to reappear having forgotten his keys or anything. Then, once he was sure he was alone, he jumped up and ran into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. There was no lock on it, but that was fine - bedrooms were a well-established no-go-zone between him and Ben, so he wasn't too worried.

Instead, the tightness in his chest was a completely different feeling. One he probably wouldn't have expected at the start of this journey.

Excitement.

He was excited in a way he hadn't felt for a long while. And it wasn't just blanket excitement, either - he couldn't pretend any more. He was horny. One of those stupid juvenile jokes had happened to him; 'What would you do if you woke up as a girl?' It was almost silly to say it, as though it wasn't obvious.

He wanted to see what it felt like.

Not sex - obviously. Well, not obviously - he was bisexual, but he'd never been with a guy, and starting like this wasn't exactly the way he'd wanted to go about it. What he wanted to experience, as a girl, was what it felt like.

What masturbation felt like; the clit, sensitive nipples (which he'd already dipped into). Plus, the big one.

Multiple orgasms.

Jules' chest fluttered as he stood there, in his room, looking at his own messy bed like it belonged to someone else. The room still stank of sex - of him and Sam. Sam, who had never been the girl he'd fucked, and him, no longer the man he'd fucked her as.

The two people who had fucked in here last night didn't exist any more. What a strange thought.

After he was able to shake the nerves, the excitement, whatever it was, Jules moved forwards. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing his phone from the side table, and set it up on the little stand he had. He opened it to the camera - not recording, just to see himself - and was greeted by the face of that woman again.

The woman that wasn't him, and yet was him.

To himself, Jules gave a steady smile, and saw the woman smile back. Her smile was nice. Kind. Cute, even. It was hard to think of her as him, so he didn't - he decided she was someone else. The girl in the reflection was a different person, and he was just... in her.

Which was a train of thought that brought him back to what he was doing in here. He shifted, lifting up on his knees, on his bed, so the camera was focused on his chest. Beneath Ben's t-shirt that he was still wearing, Jules could see the wobble of his heavy breasts as they shifted. Jules took a breath, grabbed the tee at the base, and lifted it off again.

He felt the cool air on his skin, making him sigh a little as his hair was pulled up through the neck hole, before falling over his shoulder and down his back, soft and strange. Jules looked at the screen, and saw those tits again - and by cutting his, or her, face out of the picture, it was easier to just enjoy them as what they were.

Nice, soft breasts.

Knowing there was no chance of getting caught, and of no one waking in, Jules began to... explore. To play, more than he had done in the bathroom.

His hands slid across the soft, supple flesh of them, his smaller, deft hands tickling his chest in a way that made his breath hitch. His nipples, hardened by the cool air, felt perfect against his palms, sending shudders of pleasure through his body.

Jules' back arched as he played, his eyes watching the breasts in the camera, the separation helping him to go further. To be bolder.

He closed his thumb and finger around his right nipple, and tweaked it ever so slightly.

'Ah!' he yelped, his voice high and feminine, a noise of pleasure he'd never expected would come from his mouth. And, while it was his noise, the sound of it still activated something in him. The sounds of female pleasure as his hands played with the most perfect tits he'd ever seen.

'Fuck,' he moaned, his second hand coming up, squeezing the left breast more forcefully, and he felt a pang of surprise by how hard he was able to aw it without it turning to discomfort. In fact, a little bit of force felt good. 'Noted,' he murmured as he let go, just looking at them on the screen for a moment.

The left breast, a little red from the pressure, and the right one with the slightly-swollen nipple, and yet they looked incredible. He knew he was lusting over his own body, and that maybe he should have been uncomfortable with that, but he couldn't bring himself to feel that way. Instead, all he felt was... lucky.

This was his body. For him to do with what he would.

And there was a whole other aspect to it he hadn't even started to explore.

Quickly, and with excitement in his chest, Jules switched off the camera, and put his phone down. Topless, and still slightly off-kilter from the weight and strength changes, Jules shuffled down into the bedding, beneath the covers, into the warmth of his own bed. Beneath the covers, he pulled off his jogging bottoms, pulling them off his hips and kicking them off quickly.

'Okay,' he said after a moment, naked beneath the covers. His hands and arms were above the bedding, and he lay like that for a fleeting moment as he took in the strangeness of the moment.

How many times had he masturbated in this bed? And yet this was going to be totally different - and he could feel it.

His arousal swam in his body in ways that, while manifesting a little differently, were pretty familiar. The urge to feel pleasure, to do something, all of that shame-numbing brain fog that went hand-in-hand with horniness, he'd felt all of this before.

What was different was, of course, the notable absence of an erection. That simple, physical signature of his arousal was gone. Instead, between his hips, he could feel the warmth and wetness of the female sex. There was a slickness that had begun to slather, ever so slightly, onto his inner thighs, and the mix of friction and slipperiness was intoxicating.

Jules' eyes slid shut, as his hand slipped across his female body. Blindly, and experiencing both the sensations of running his hands across a female form and being softly touched by loving fingers, he let his mind wander into more lewd thoughts.

Memories of Sam moaning his name as they kissed on this very bed, his fingers inside her as she whimpered and gasped. As he thought, his fingertip fluttered lower, until he felt the soft fuzz of his pubic hair, and the shape of his mons. It was an electric feeling, the hesitant intimacy feeling like he was about to lose his virginity all over again.

His fingers slipped past the mons, and he felt the warm stickiness of his arousal as his fingers slipped between the lips. He gasped, and instinctively his legs fell open, his soft skin brushing against the duvet from beneath as his fingers explored.

He'd known how to make a woman cum from fingering since he was about nineteen - his first girlfriend hadn't wanted to have sex for fear of pregnancy, so he wound up surprisingly adept at fingering and oral from their many, many bouts of it. Her name was Emma, and he could still remember how she'd shudder during an orgasm, her mind cutting out as she came, and her body unable to do anything else than respond to the unholy pleasure she was experiencing.

As he thought of her, he found his clit, beneath the wet fold of his sex, and let out a surprised moan at how even that smallest movement felt.

'This is something else,' he moaned, his voice high and breathy, as he began to rub himself in small circles. Emma had shown him this early on - how the pressure and friction were careful balances to keep.

He could feel it, now - but it was instinctive. He didn't need to listen to someone else to know what to do, and instead he just... do it.

'Oh, fuck,' he whimpered as his hand moved faster, his pussy wet and the sound of it filling the room - slk-slk-slk-slk-slk-slk-slk. It was lurid and sloppy, and it felt amazing. Totally different to wanking.

'Shit!' he gasped, his feminine voice pitching, and even the sound of his own moans feeding his oncoming orgasm. 'Fuck! Gonna - gonna cum!' The words, even spoken by him, were so hot that he could barely hold on any more.

Slk-slk-slk-slkslkslkslkslkslk!

'OhhhhhHHHHAAAAAAAA!'

The orgasm was unlike anything he'd felt before. It came on like a flood, the pressure building behind the dam, up and up and up, until the cracks gave way. 'FUCK!' His hips rolled, and flashes of white spots appeared in his vision as his bark arched. Control of his muscles was taken away from him, as he thrashed in his bed, moaning his feminine moans.