Sex, of course.

Hand in hand, we walk to our bedroom, pausing as we reach the edge of the bed. Michelle brushes a lock of wet blonde hair that had fallen across my face and kisses me upon the lips. My lips feel so soft and sensitive now. Kissing Michelle had been pleasant when I was a man; now I was almost completely a woman, the touch of her lips and tongue upon my own sent delicious waves of pleasure that permeated throughout my softer and more reactive body. I return her kiss, pressing close so that our breasts and loins touch and heighten the stimulation.

"We could just cuddle," Michelle whispers to me, her arousal making her voice catch as her need conflicts with her empathy for my inability to reach satisfaction. "I can survive the frustration until I can please you equally."

I don't reply. My palm slides down over Michelle's belly, the almost imperceptible swell only betraying the presence of our baby she carried, as I have the foreknowledge of its existence. I brush the neat landing strip of damp black curls with my fingertips and follow its short trail downwards. Michelle lets out a contented sigh as I lightly trace the cleft of her labia and then slowly part her pliable outer labia and slide two fingers into the tight, moist sheath of her vulva. I feel the muscles lining the walls of Michelle's quim twitch and tighten around my slim fingers. For a brief moment, I feel a loss, recalling how it felt on my vanished cock when Michelle's quim gripped my shaft. Can my slim fingers really substitute for the girth and length of my former manhood, or do Michelle's assurances mask her disappointment?

If Michelle is less satisfied with my fingers within her compared to my late and lamented penis, she is an excellent actress. She sighs and moans as my fingers move within her, her head resting against my shoulder and nuzzling my collarbone. My thumb seeks the hidden pearl of her clitoris, massaging the folds of her clitoral hood and teasing the tiny bud beneath. I momentarily muse whether the remnants of cock will shrink further when my transformation reaches completion. Whether it will become a hidden pea-sized nub like Michelle's rather than the tiny penis it now appears. I snap out of my reverie, concentrating on interpreting Michelle's soft vocal responses and the subtle movements of her body against mine and adjust the manipulations of my fingers and thumb to heighten her excitement. Michelle is soon writhing and moaning, her body sliding over my own soft curves and frustratingly raising my own stimulation.

"Oh my god, baby," Michelle gasps hoarsely as I flick her tiny, concealed nubbin through the thin flesh of her clitoral hood and explore the moist depths of her quim. "That feels so good."

Michelle's body shudders, and she growls huskily. I can feel every spasm and tremor of her body as our soft, silky forms grind together, slipping smoothly over each other with the water still coating our skin from the shower. I exert more pressure with my thumb, assaulting Michelle's clit with renewed vigour. Michelle seems near delirious with passion, her cries of pleasure unrestrained and her body's movements uncontrolled and feral. She lets out small squeals and screams as her hips buck, climaxing in my embrace.

We fall upon the bed as the height of Michelle's orgasm subsides, our soft female curves and slender limbs entwined. We kiss more deeply and passionately than before, our tongues and lips exploring and delving deeply into each other's mouths. We both moan with passion, our breaths intermingled as our velvetine lips are locked with a strength and intensity that belies their softness.