A switch of places

-Mmm, ah, yeah...- 'Kim' throws her head back. She's now sitting on the mattress with her eyes closed and her legs spread open, as she's making Daniel provide orally the satisfaction that he could no longer give to her via his flaccid member. A fair retribution indeed; yet, you find this scene somehow disturbing, and for a second you're almost tempted to call it... jealousy?

Towards who? Him? No, that's simply absurd. You merely don't like the idea of a loser like him having access to your delectable form, even if it's not really you.

'Kim' suddenly squeals, having reached orgasm, and a contented grin finally appears on her face. She delicately pushes him away and gazes at you with coquettish eyes.

-That was... intense!- She giggles. Bitch.

-Yeah, whatever.- You roll your eyes, then look at the clock alarm: -Shit, I'm gonna be late for lunch.- you hurriedly get up from bed, but she grabs your wrist and stops you.

-Wait! Why don't we, uhm, stay like this for a bit more?-.

You frown, eyeing her in skepticism: -I just told you that I have to go.-.

-No, I mean... this.- She indicates herself, and you eventually realize what she's trying to suggest.

-Wha-you mean being you? Trish, that is? Are you serious?-.

-Well, you sure like feeling my boy's sperm spread on my tits.- She subtly hints. You look down at your soaked chest in disbelief, then shake your head. She's messing with you, that's it. All of this... pretending she's the real Trish is... definitely not turning you on.

-Look, I don't intend to live as an old hag, especially when I can be my awesome new self!- You rebut.

-I'm not that old... I mean Trish... uff, you got it. Besides, think about the possibilities: a sexy, ambitious lawyer... living in a giant mansion... with a dutiful son, wishful to fulfill your every request... of any type... any...-.

She charges the last word with intense sensuality, but you quickly snap out of her hisses.

-Umpf! If it's so great, then why are you so eager to let it go?- You point out. You free your arm and move to go, but she gets up as well, standing right in front of you. You exchange a deep, pregnant gaze; then, she traces a line up to your side with the tip of her index, sending shivers down your spine.

-It just seems to me that... you're wearing my body so... good...- Her finger scoops up a droplet of seed, causing you to flinch slightly when she retreats it. She brings it to her lips, sliding it inside, slowly, sensually, making her plushy lips wobble under its pressure.

It's so sexy to see your sister like this.

-Fine. Let's do it.- You relent. 'Kim' immediately beams with an excited smile.

-That's awesome, Mrs. M!-.

-Yeah yeah.- You play annoyed, then you subtly lift the corner of your lips and reply: -Now scurry away girl, or your mom will scold you.-.

-Sure!- She stretches out her arms and a layer of clothing, similar to the one you were wearing before coming here, appears on her like growing from her skin. Incredible.

-Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. M! Take care! And also you, big boy~!- She blows a kiss at a dangling Daniel, and then runs away. She's so fast that you realize she's truly gone when you hear the front door closing.

For a moment, you are overcome by uncertainty: was it really a good idea? To give away your identity like this? Will you be able to cope with this new lifestyle, abandoning completely your old one to the hands of, of that... weirdo?

But then you look down at your boobs - your wide, luscious and currently-moistened boobs - and you know instantly where to start to figure it out.

The shower's torrent pounds down onto your buxom chest, washing away the accumulated grime much to your satisfaction. You chuckle, feeling the droplets bouncing on your bubbly skin in a completely unfamiliar way, a sensation that is different even from this morning. But this is because you are completely different, as you sense through the flowing of the water, which slides down your toned belly, descends around your wide hips, and finally streams on your shapely thighs.

The wet warmth tingles all the skin in its journey, reigniting all over a pleasant sensation that hardens your nipples and pulsates between your legs. This body, this... mature form is... is simply intoxicating.

"Now I see why she couldn't hold it before..." You constate, thinking back at the heathered session that had happened in the other bathroom no more than an hour ago. Part of you wants, no, is yearning to call Danny here and make him continue his prior job.

But this moment is just for you. For you and for your new body, to get acquainted with it, to experience it with all your senses, since now this form is now yours and yours only, and nobody can ever put it in discussion. Yes. It's not just the sight, far from it. The smell of your breath, mingling with the strawberry lipstick, that rises up to your nostrils, and the scent of your cutis, which you can easily nose just by turning your head on your shoulder and taking a deep sniff, and that has a certain something of indefinite, but, somehow, seasoned, aged, though not in an unpleasant way, more like certifying the maturity of its owner, their status as a mature woman; the savor of your mouth, which you explore with your tongue, its shape, and the dental arc, all features that are so new, so unfamiliar, and yet are yours; and, of course, all the sensations related to touch, your hair tied up, the make-up on your face, your tingling skin, the soft and sinuous curves on which your hands rest wherever you place them. All of these sensations can make you affirm, even with your eyes closed, that you're no longer a kid, an adolescent girl or whatsoever; no, you're now a grown-up woman, a defined, fully developed woman.

While you're washing your prosperous derriére, you realize that you still lack a thing to completely be Trish Martinez. Her memories, or you should say more in general, her interiority. 'Trish', well, 'Kim' by now, said that you can unlock it, but with a lot of distress. It makes sense: if you give for granted that your shapeshift is perfect, and you had no reason to doubt it up to now, then you have also an exact copy of her brain, and therefore all of its content. This would also make your powers far greater than the ones of any superhero or mutants that you, as Tom, have read in those geeky lame comics, though this doesn't quite explain why you have lost neither your nor Kim's personality. Another reminder that you actually know little about your current condition.

Perhaps, then, a real body swap like the one you briefly experienced before would have made things easier. But, then, what's the point of being you if you let a minor obstacle like this halt you? Something that for normal people would be impervious, maybe even impossible, you can surely overcome with ease. Regardless of your powers, regardless of the name you go by, you're not some loser who lives a miserable life and thinks she's satisfied with it, like some filthy pig picking acorns out of the mud.

No. You are still you. And that has always been enough. That's proof that she was just a charlatan. If she's been you, then how dare she assume that you would have failed just because she did? How did she ever consider herself your peer? That wasn't even offensive by how ridiculous it was. No, let the others cry for a mere headache: you can obtain whatever you want, and so you will.

You move the shower head down, between your legs, and when the water beats against your trimmed bush, you begin to twitch your folds and the responsive bean inside of them: if it's going to be painful, better to put yourself at ease before starting.

Then, as you did with Kim, you focus on Trish, specifically on the few things you've learned while scooping around her living room. She's a lawyer, and a successful one. No, you are. You... are... Trish... Martinez...

A click snaps in the back of your mind, and then a pang of migraine strikes lancinating. In reflex, your digits push in, sliding inside your walls, and the pleasure overlaps with ache. Urgh!!! You are Trish Martinez, you are Trish Martinez, you are-

-

-

Trish Consuelo Martinez, to be precise. Lawyer, nay, you prefer 'attorney'. Born 42 years ago on the outskirts of a city in another country, moved here to study law thanks to your intelligence and permissive legislation for women. One of the best students in your course, you found your first work in a law firm years before taking your degree; by then, you had already become one of its most promising and sought-after associates. You married one of your clients, some tax-dodger, wannabe tycoon who was looking for a trophy wife and a discount for his legal issues. He thought he scored the jackpot when you went down on him.

You, however, only wanted him to give you a son and half of his wealth via divorce, and you got them before he could even comprehend what was going on. You exited that legal office, took a job for a rival one, and won an important case against your prior employers; after that, everyone knew who they were going to deal with, and from that moment on you weren't anymore the one looking for firms, but instead they started to search for you for the most important lawsuits; at your prices, of course.

Your lips part in a moan and lean against the wall, your knees shivering like jelly under the sensual touch of your fingers.

Methodic; clever; subtle. Oh, you already like her. She planned each step of her career and life from the very beginning, 100% aware of her good looks and far from being **** to use them for her purposes. Of course, she also publicly endorsed study campaigns for women and the underprivileged, since 'she was herself one of them once, and without the help of many generous people she wouldn't have reached the empowering position she's in now, with a satisfying job and a splendid son'; not that she truly cares of other women and the underprivileged, but apparently many priggish old white males did for her. Luckily, no one has ever asked who those 'generous people' were.

And so here she is, over the gates of her forties but with a still magnificently-maintained body, altered by only minor surgical makeovers and kept in shape mostly by following a salutary diet, scheduled training, and great use of beauty products and treatments which surely hadn't been envisaged by those right-thinkers; but shame on them, you guess. Yes, you guess. Now, it's all yours to take.

You reopen your eyes and smile at the reflex on the shower screen in front of you. Your fingertips have calmed down, and now they're gently tickling your skin.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Martinez.".

"I'm sure it's the beginning of a fruitful acquaintance~...".