Living Without You

You said goodnight. You're calls had been similar most nights, long drawn out pauses between statements about your day or the latest gossip from your respective friend groups. “I love you,” you whispered at the end of the call, she whispered the response. You felt a pang as you knew for the next 8 hours she’d be off the grid and you’d experience the crushing sensation of loneliness. It was a cycle that repeated itself daily. A short call, just enough to feel close, just enough to feel like you were still emotionally connected, then the rough hand of responsibility stretched your relationship. You wouldn’t break, you didn’t know when but you’d weather the storm and finally get the opportunity to be together.

Before Jane, you had never felt so comfortable with someone. She was a calming which put your entire life in perspective. Any fear or anxiety seemed to shed away the minute you heard her voice. You felt like she knew you and, at times, you knew her. On the surface you knew what drove her, she was an avid fitness enthusiast. Her body seemed carved from marble, a lithe frame with a petite waist and a butt she had grown to proportions. Raven hair cascading down her shoulders and her mouth was edged with plump lips. She had eyes that struck you, throwing you off balance with a glance or glare. She loved books and history. She kept a rigid work schedule and was respected by her employees and peers. At times, she kept to herself, living with those ravishing looks must be a bizarre experience. You didn’t look awful yourself, but at no point did heads turn when you walked down a crowded street. She’d said you lived life a little differently, knowing the way people saw you. It wasn’t egotistical, she always treated people with kindness and respect, but she was aggressively sexualized and had learn to confront societies lecherous judgement.

It did nothing to dull her enjoyment. She had a voracious sexual appetite. When you were together you would fuck multiple times a day, her strong flexible frame begging you to use her. In public, she’d wear tight bodycons, the sort of outfits that would hug her sides, showing off her six pack and the shelf of her ass. But she wouldn’t want anyone to think of her as lewd, those actions were reserved for you. She loved for you to fuck her roughly, thrusting your dick into her tight snatch while she bounced against you. You’d pull her hair and use a finger to fishhook the edge of her drooling mouth. But in public, she kept her sexuality on her terms, much preferring to tease than to be overt. Even when you were first dating, she was very withdrawn, knowing how you perceived her, what you wanted to do to her, and only letting you when you had earned it.

But now, she was 3000 miles away. Working diligently in her London restaurant while you pursued your dream job abroad. You’d the change, realizing this was a career opportunity you couldn’t skip, but you constantly worried that you were letting the best part of your life slip away.

She often complained. Long distance was hard for the strongest couples. There was an added element of anxiety she often avoided. You’d served a purpose beyond just being a boyfriend. With you, she could avoid the confrontation. Men didn’t heckle her or approach her. Sure, there were stares, but the minute you noticed they’d look away. It’s not like she had never been single before. On the contrary, she had lived most of her life as a solo operator. But she’d grown to love the hidden perk of being beside her man.

You wondered what it’d be like for her if you weren’t part of her life? You knew she was frustrated. On a daily basis she’d describe her throbbing sex, wishing to feel you fill her. She didn’t talk about being single often. You were glib on the subject while she chose to avoid the nitty gritty. In the past, she’d told you about men before you, bigger men or men who demeaned her in the right type of way, but with you she could relax for the first time. You two were different, you two had a deeper connection. At least that’s what you hoped. You weren’t jealous, not usually. Jane was just so hard to read. What was she like before you? Did she ever give into temptation, could it happen again? You knew you were in a spiral, knew to the outsider you sounded more deranged than intuitive. On one hand she loved you fully, but how long would it last? How long could you sustain this unending distance? You needed to know. No matter what ovations she made, you felt fissures tear at the edges of your trust.

You stared out at the night sky. It was Saturday, she was probably going out tonight. At that exact moment, she’d be coordinating with her friends. Showering, shaving and beginning a byzantine makeup regime. Once washed, she’d prance around her room, gathering the necessary garments for the night. One thick thigh after another she’d slip into a miniscule thong, the fabric lightly brushing against her smooth cunt. She’d pour herself into a sparkling silver dress, feeling its soft material against her. She’d put on heels, high enough to make her butt pop, then have her first gin and tonic and wait for her friends.

You felt sick, thinking of the men who’d approach her. Knowing there’d be hands reaching out, pawing, tempting, exploring. She’d resist, she always did, but you knew she’d be battered with sexual advances at every turn. What would you do in that situation? What would happen if you were thrust into her position? Could you do better, with the one you love so hopelessly far away. The hunger of your sexual being boiling in your gut. Luckily, you’d never have to find out.

You laid back in bed, wishing you knew what she thought. How did she feel and how did she navigate her crazy life? As much as you trusted her, as much as you knew her, you felt like something was missing. If you could just walk a mile in her shoes, all her contradictions might slot into place. With that thought, you let sleep take you, wondering of a different life.

You woke up to a harsh buzzer. Bizarre, your alarm was bird songs, not this brutal blaring. You reached over to the right side of your bed, Jane’s side, but instead of a bedsheet you felt your hand reach across empty space. You must have rolled over in the night, strange but nothing that out of the ordinary. You begrudgingly reached the other direction shuffling till you felt the phone hidden in the sheet’s folds. Click, the phone was silenced. You had time for a quick snooze before you had to attack the day. The sheets felt warm. Caressing your skin. You let one hand glide down your body, you might have time for a quick jerk before your day began. You moved towards your crotch, imagining your girlfriend so far away. You reached it and felt, nothing. Your eyes snapped open, above you a lamp was shaded in a cute box light fixture, decorative, ornate, and entirely not your own. You lunged up and looked around you, multicolor flowery sheets greeted you as long hair cascaded around your face. What the fuck. Your breath caught, you grabbed the hair feeling the reality between your fingers. You pulled the sheets away from your frame revealing two perky breasts, a muscular core and a shaved pussy. Your strong thighs were bronzed and freshly shaved. Fuck, you knew this body. You kicked your legs, your brain catching up to the fact that they were yours. You felt your face, sharp cheekbones and soft lips. A strong jawline that pultruded but not enough to look masculine.

You jumped out of bed, rushing towards a full length mirror resting against the wall. What the fuck, your horror was confirmed. You were Jane, somehow inhabiting her skin. How the fuck?

You heard the steps of feet approaching. There was a knock on the door. Fuck fuck fuck. You spun around looking for something to cover yourself. There was a stripped blue towel draped over one of the bedposts. You pulled it around yourself.

“Come in,” you spoke hesitantly, not sure if it would be your voice or the voice of another. Sure, enough it was Jane’s husky tone. Somehow high and low simultaneously, like a sultry jazz singer in a smoky bar. The door drew open and Jane’s roommate Kimberly entered the room.

“Oh sorry Jane didn’t know you were still getting ready. I can wait till you come downstairs,” she giggled. Kimberly was a short redheaded women, compared to Jane’s 5’ 8” frame, her 5’0” body looked positively miniscule. What she lacked in height she made up for in buxom. Huge breasts that pressed on every outfit she wore, a proportionally thin waist and a plump buttock. Compared to Jane she looked soft, but she knew how to work her curves and men responded receptively.

“No its fine,” You stuttered the words out, still trying to comprehend the state of your world.

“Oh alright, I was just going to ask about your date tonight,” Kimberly nudged her, looking peevish.

“My what?” You almost gasped but at the last minute you pulled yourself under control.

“With that guy, the one you met at the bar last weekend? Angus or Ed or something,” Kimberly wasn’t letting up. “Jane your always so coy about these things, where are you going, what are you going to do?”

You look at Kimberly, not sure how you’re supposed to respond. When did this all happen? Third date, how long had Jane been speaking with this guy? More importantly, why and how were you in Jane’s body?

“Um what about David?” It was a place to start, maybe mentioning your name would start filling in the blanks. Maybe you were by aliens and this was a simulation. At the very least it might trick Kimberly into filling you in on how the world got to this point.

“Who the hell is David?” Kimberly squinted at you and looked slightly betrayed. “How many men are you keeping from me Jane, I’m basically your best friend, I deserve to know.”

Now this was kinda rude. You had met Kimberly, probably hundreds of times. You get that she might be dismissive of your relationship, especially regarding the current situation, but denying your existence seemed like going a little far.

“My boyfriend David, he’s working in Hong Kong, we’ve been dating for like 4 years,” It was a literal out of body experience. Speaking about yourself in the, what was this, 4th person, seemed bizarre.

“Oh is this like a really clever way of telling me to fuck off. My boyfriend in Canada type of thing? Alright Jane I see how it is,” Kimberly crossed her arms, pressing her tits together. “I’ll drop it, but tomorrow morning I want deets, especially if you end up sleeping over,” she stuck her tongue out and strode out of the room.

What the hell was going on. Not only did it seem like Jane was dating someone else, one of her closest friends denied that you had ever existed. You rushed over to the bed and started tearing through the sheets. Finally you clutched your phone. You pressed the home button and were greeted by a password screen with a background of Jane scaling one of the pyramids in Egypt. Wait what, your confusion deepened. You knew Jane had never been to Egypt, you’d specifically been discussing a potential trip for years. You pressed your thumb against the phone until it unlocked. You went to facebook, looking at relationship status. Single was printed across the screen. You went to the search bar and typed in your name, several David Wilcox’s appeared but none of them were your profile. You went to her photos, scrolling through years and years of pictures, pictures of friends you knew, people you’d met thousands of times, but none of you. You felt a chill down your spine, Jane’s spine, the confusion was getting blurred in your brain. You opened google and typed in your name, nothing. Nothing about your high school sports team, nothing about an old newspaper article from university you always joked about popping up first, no traces of you. You opened Jane’s contacts and searched your name, you didn’t exist. At this point you felt your breath coming in harsh. You went to Jane’s dial pad and punched in your number. You hesitated for a second, scared to hit the green call button. You hit it and waited for the familiar ping of an outgoing call. It didn’t happen, instead the automated message explained that the number did not exist.

You gritted your teeth, wracking your brain for ways to explain everything that had transpired. How the hell were you here, now, in this body? Why did no traces of David Wilcox seem to exist? You began to pace around the small bedroom. You looked down at the phone, your fingers moved, as if on their own accord, typing in the number. You hit call. You exhaled as the the dial tone sounded, it was early but you hoped she would pick up.

“Hello,” The familiar women’s voice sounded on the other side of the line.

“Margaret,” You said the name slowly. Hoping desperately for her to respond correctly.

“Yes speaking,” Your breath caught. You let the seconds slip, not sure if you could say what you needed to ask.

“I’m calling about your son, David Wilcox,” You spoke the words slowly, stuttering as you tried to keep your voice calm and level.

“Um excuse me?” the women voice peaked, she sounded confused. A harsh strain gripped your stomach.

“David, your son,” you repeated the words, not sure if you could muster anything else but repetition.

“I’m sorry, you must be confused, I don’t have a son. Is this a wrong number?” Your mom’s voice was questioning but kind. Exactly the soft tone you’d expect from her. The words still hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt queasy and staggered to catch the bed. You didn’t need more confirmation, of all the women in the world this was the one who would remember you.

The phone fell from your hand. You heard her asking on the other line, trying to figure out if someone was still there. You nudged the call button with a foot, abruptly ending it. You hugged yourself, not sure how to proceed. You didn’t know this body, you didn’t know this life. It seemed familiar but at the same time so strangely different. You existed, but in the body of someone else, someone you loved but was so harshly different.

A blaring sounded from the floor. You looked down to see your alarm going off again. The words “time for work” flashed in large bold letters. Jane had meticulously labelled her alarms. If you were going to pick up the pieces of your life. You might as well learn to live in this one.

(This story is open to contributions, I honestly love reading gender bender stories but writing one was a little strange for me, feel free to submit anything you find exciting I’d love to expand the concept)