It’s funny how people’s minds work. I read somewhere that since the world’s become so online-connected, we no longer file facts the way we used to. Instead we file search strings. Ways to find the information. Usually it’s a good policy; if I look something up online (and I’m clever enough to filter out bad data), I’m going to get the most accurate and up-to-date information possible. It’s much more reliable than “I heard somewhere” or “This book I read said”.
Unfortunately this method falls short when you’re trying to find information on someone who is off the grid. There were no hits online for Lyubitshka Tokar, no information in the phone directories, no news articles, nothing. Not even a “find your classmates” or “free family tree” advertisement. The woman (I assumed it was a woman’s name) was a complete null entity. I won’t even mention what I found when I searched “gender change curse”. There are some real weirdos out there.
After a couple hours of frustration, I decided to go blow off some steam. Usually for me that means a hard workout at the gym. Under the circumstances, I decided a little normality would be nice, so I packed a tee and some drawstring sweats, pulled my hair back with an elastic – not a cute girly one, but the kind you use for holding a poster rolled up – and headed out into the world.
Everything seemed just a little off, and it took me a few minutes to realize it was because I was shorter now. Doorways were larger, handles were higher, and before I could get my car out of the underground lot I had to do a lot of adjustments to the seat and mirrors. Still, I was soon on my way, cruising the sparsely-populated saturday morning streets to my local gym.
I used by little keyfob to beep in at the entrance and nodded to the girl behind the counter, then headed for the changeroom. It was getting toward midday, so the place wasn’t too terribly busy. I dropped my bag on a bench and reached for an empty locker when somebody shouted.
“Hey!”
The other guy in the changeroom was reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist. I looked up just in time to see what he was hiding. Of course, it was nothing new to see a naked guy in the changeroom. You do your thing and don’t stare, that’s the rule. Then I remembered where I was.
“Oh shit!” I said. “I’m sorry, I thought this was the mens’- er, I mean womens’… uh, excuse me.”
I drabbed my bag and retreated out and across to the ladies’ changeroom. My heart was pounding and my cheeks were on fire. It was stupid, I knew it was, but still, I felt completely embarrassed to have seen that poor guy’s body, from his chiseled abs to his godlike glutes, including a brief side view of a cock as long and thick as mine had been yesterday…
And why was I picturing that? I shook my head. Just another naked guy, no big. I’d probably never see him again.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I looked over at the owner of this new voice. She looked about thirty, in great shape, and was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a concerned look. Her skin was glistening with the sweat of someone who has earned her washboard abs.
“What?” I asked, trying not to stare at her firm-looking breasts and nipples that were a little darker than mine. Not mine, Shawna’s. You know.
“You look like something’s wrong, did something happen out there? I can go get someone from staff if you need-”
“Oh god no,” I said, shaking my head. “My fault, totally. I walked into the wrong change room, and surprised some poor guy mid-change.”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, a sudden motion that made one of her breasts bounce distractingly. “Omigod,” she said, “was he buff?”
I chuckled. “Well, yeah,” I admitted before I could stop myself.
“Wait, what did he look like?”
I thought for a moment and described him. It was easy, since apparently I’d filed a mental photograph of him for future embarrassment, as is the way with upsetting memories. “Uh… tall, with short kinda dark blonde hair, some stubble, sorta almost pointy jaw and chin, blue eyes…”
“Holy crap, I know him. Well, not know, but that’s the Viking I keep seeing.”
“Viking?”
“Yeah, I figure he’s probably from Norway or something. What did you see?”
I felt myself blush again. “Well…”
She stepped closer. “Come on, dish. Is he… you know, big?”
I grinned at her eagerness. “Like a baby’s arm,” I said.
We both got a good laugh out of that. It was weird, partly because she was mostly naked and partly because I’d never been friendly with strangers in change rooms before, but it felt comfortable enough so I went with it for now.
“So,” I said, “do you have secret racist names for everyone who comes here?”
“Just the regulars. I’m Katlyn, by the way. Call me Kat if you like.”
“Shawn,” I replied, sticking out my hand.
“Shawn?”
“Um, I mean Shawna. Sorry, my brain’s a little weird today.”
Kat nodded as she shook my hand, which suddenly felt even weirder than the half-naked chatting. “I know the feeling. You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly, but I’m changing up some things in my life,” I said, lying with practiced ease. “My cousin goes to this gym, and I just moved in to watch his place, so I thought I’d come here.”
“Oh? What’s he look like?”
I described myself as I knew me for most of my life. She thought for a moment. “Maybe… hey Di, come over here!”
Another woman, this one with black curled hair and biceps that would make a superhero jealous, strutted over. Her skin was olive-colored and dripping wet; she was patting herself dry with a towel, evidently fresh from the shower, and she was gloriously nude. “Yeah?”
“You know that guy who comes here in the mornings? Kinda tall, chiseled jaw-”
“The Viking?”
“No, the darker-haired one.” She repeated my description of myself.
“Oh, the Lawyer.”
I coughed. “The what?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Kat said, grinning. “I knew we had one for him. Diana, this is Shawna, the cousin-of-the-lawyer.”
Diana smiled. “Nice to meet you, Shawna. Remind me to get your cousin’s number sometime, he looks like he could go eight or nine rounds.”
This time I blushed for entirely different reasons. Kat laughed. “I can’t get a bead on you, Shawna,” she said. “You’re confident one second, shy the next. Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Hand me your cellphone, please.”
I did as she asked and watched her take a selfie and put her details into my contacts. “There,” she said, handing it back to me. “Give me a call, we’ll do lunch. I need to figure you out.”
We exchanged our goodbyes and they both left, Katlyn to shower off and Diana to get dressed. I couldn’t help but watch Kat as she went, staring at her ass while she slipped the shorts off mid-stride.
“Yeah, it’s pretty great,” Diana said, scaring the crap out of me. I whirled and faced her, since apparently she hadn’t gone very far. She had put on her bra and panties and was in the middle of applying a stick deodorant to herself. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t tell her you were staring. I will tell you that she’s single, though.”
“Uh… thanks,” I said, turning around and focusing very hard on the task of finding a locker and changing into my gym clothes.
I had to pull the drawstring on my sweatpants tight to the breaking point to keep them from falling off my hips, and the shirt I’d packed wore almost like a dress, but after some tucking in I felt about ready to do my workout. I left the change room, had a sip of water, and went over to the rowing machines to do my warmup.
Rowing is a great way to limber up your body for heavy lifting. It moves all the muscles you’re going to be using enough that you are unlikely to tear anything you want to keep untorn in the middle of a pull. But the thing about a rowing machine is that it also involves an in-and-out motion with both arms while moving your torso. And the thing about doing an in-and-out motion with both arms while moving your torso is that if you have never had tits before and don’t own a sports bra, you are probably going to punch yourself in one or both breasts repeatedly. Still, if I quit working out as soon as something hurt, I wouldn’t look as hot as I do, so I stuck with it for the full five minutes on my timer.
I was impressed with my new body; I didn’t feel winded at all. Clearly Shawna kept up with her cardio. I wiped some sweat from my forehead and got up, heading over to the free weights, snagging an open bench and setting up a bar with a warm-up weight.
Once again, I had to curse myself for not swinging by the bra store or wherever decent bras come from; the moment I laid back on the bench I felt my breasts moving outward uncomfortably. It wasn’t terrible, though; Shawna was a perky girl, so they didn’t fall too far out where they’d get in the way of my motion. I did a set of bench press lifts, learning the slightly different motion required to bring the bar down below my annoyance-globes instead of directly to my chest as a man would do. Then I got up and loaded the bar with my full working weight.
I got on the bench, lined myself up, and pushed the bar up to the sky, locking my elbows. I brought it down over my chest and started pumping, bringing it in slow and pushing back out again. Or rather, I tried to. The bar came down as I planned, but about halfway up it stopped moving. Fuck, I thought, I’ve made a terrible mistake here.
I groaned and strained. It’s not like I couldn’t get out from under the bar, but there’s a reason the escape maneuver for bench press is called the “roll of shame”, and I’d lost just about enough dignity for one day.
Suddenly the weight lightened, moving steadily up until my elbows locked again. I blinked my squinting eyes open and found I was looking up at a muscular arm, attached to a broad shoulder and a too-familiar face looking down at me with concern.
“You alright there, miss?” the Viking asked, holding the bar with me as I brought it back onto the rack with a clang.
“Yeah,” I said, exhaling. “I just… overestimated, I guess.”
He smirked, offering me his hand and clasping onto my wrist to help me sit up. His hands were warm, and huge. “I know the feeling. Always scary when you have an off day.” He winked. He knew it wasn’t an off day, but apparently the gym’s Bro Code extended to females as well. I felt myself once more starting to blush. The feeling was getting way too familiar.
“Yeah, off day,” I said, sitting straddling the bench and looking at him.
He had really nice pecs under the white tank he was wearing; the man clearly knew his bench press. I realized I was staring as he finally let go of my arm. “Mind if I work in? This is my working weight anyway.”
“What? Yeah, sure,” I said, getting up off the bench. “It’s apparently not mine.”
“Don’t worry about it. Can you spot me?”
I nodded and walked around to the head of the bench. The next couple minutes involved him doing the press I’d meant to do and me being completely unnecessary as a spotter.
“Alright,” he said, sitting up, “Your turn. Want to give it another shot or deload the bar a little?”
I flexed my arms back, then frowned at the soreness in my chest. The Viking’s eyes were drawn to my chest, but I supposed it was only fair that he stare a little after I’d seen so much of him. Then I remembered that I was braless in a tee with sweat on it and moved my shoulders forward again. “Deload, I think,” I said, turning around to pull the clip off the bar.
We stuck together for the rest of my workout, since the Viking – Chris, he told me his name was – did a similar set of exercises. I found out all my strength was down by about a quarter, which bothered me, but I supposed it was only natural, given the circumstances.
We said our goodbyes after an hour of sweating and I headed to the change room again to shower off. The water felt amazing pouring down my skin, cleaning away the sweat. I’d been especially disturbed when I realized that my breasts were acting like extra armpits, and soaping under them was a relief for all sorts of reasons.
I scrubbed my body from the top down, but when I went to soap up my thighs and groin I was struck by that sudden tingling again. I probed at myself and discovered that I was wet, and not from the water. Not just wet; I was schoolgirl-at-a-boy-band-concert wet. I assumed. It’s not like I’d ever gone to a concert venue to check.
I let the shower wash the soap away, and had to bite my lip to keep from moaning as it tickled down my crotch in a constant cascade of teasing sensation. Oh well, I thought as i slid my hand between my legs again, I guess hormones are a bitch. And besides, seeing Katlyn and Diana so unashamedly naked had been pretty hot. I pictured the two of them in my mind, saw them kissing one another, and slipped a finger up inside myself.
“Whoa,” I whispered, probing carefully. I may not have been a woman for very long, but I certainly knew what a hymen felt like. “I’m a virgin?”
Kat and Di called out from the back of my mind, so I filed that little tidbit away to worry about later. Besides, I was sensitive as hell and even the one finger inside me was causing me to clench tight down there.
I joined the ladies in my fantasy, kissing and touching them in the shower while in the real world I slowly worked my finger inside myself and pressed my thumb to my clit. “Ohshit,” I said softly, stifling another moan and listening for anyone who might walk up to use a nearby shower stall. I rubbed my thumb left and right, up and down, and with each gentle flick I felt my pussy spasm and clench on my finger.
In the fantasy, I laid down on the tile, kissing and groping at Kat while Diana went down on me. My fingers were her tongue, stroking my lips, pushing shallowly into me and bath out again… soon I was getting used to the feeling. I came once and kept going, stretching out the waves of pleasure as long as I could.
When I felt my pussy relax, I decided to push for something more. I took a breath and pushed a second finger inside myself, again biting my lip to keep from moaning out loud while I found the right angle and started slowly pumping in and out.
I thought about Kat’s firm breasts in my hands and Diana’s amazing body as I pushed faster, marveling at both how tight I was and how slippery I’d become. In my mind, I propped myself up on my elbows from where I lay and looked up at the gorgeous creature who was pleasuring me.
Chris smiled down at me, his blue eyes soft and full of a mixed gentle love and savage lust. I gasped in both shock and pleasure, too far into it to stop. My mind flooded with images: Chris’ body, his thick cock as I’d seen it, what it might look like hard, what it might look like pushing inside of me. Chris’ chest against my hands, his arms encircling me, pulling me up off the floor. His hands on my hips, both supporting me and controlling me, pulling me down onto his pelvis again and again as my legs wrapped around his waist and I buried my head in his shoulder. His moaning accented my own as I imagined him moving faster, more urgently, huskily saying my name near my ear at the moment that his thick, hot cum started to spurt inside me…
I came. Not like before, when I was just rubbing and touching to experiment myself, either. This was a whole different experience; my back arched and my pussy clenched in a spasm so tight that it hurt my fingers. I had just enough time to slap my free hand over my mouth before my voice, squealing in pleasure and muffled by flesh, came forth to declare my situation.
After seconds or hours of mindless fulfillment, I finally slumped against the shower wall, sliding down to sit on the tile under the still-streaming water. That was when someone knocked on the stall door.
“Hey, are you alright in there? I heard a thump, did you fall?”
“I-” my voice came out as a wheeze. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m fine, thank you. Just got a little dizzy.”
“Alright. Be careful in there.”
The concerned woman walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My strange, perverted thoughts. I’d always been a solid Kinsey-Zero, but not even a day into having a vagina suddenly I wanted some guy to shove his junk all up inside me? That hardly seemed possible. Then again, none of this was all that possible to begin with. Still, one thing was certain.
I had to find that gypsy bitch fast, before I became something I couldn’t come back from.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3fsppt/shawna_roma_revenge_part_ii_the_viking_and_the