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Transgender / Transformation stories in English
Steves wife, Erica, was a witch.  One day she suggested they swap
bodies for a little while, to learn what life is like for the other
half.  Steve agreed to give it a try.  After all, he was the
adventurous type.  Soon Steve was Erica, but in more ways than she had
expected . . . 

This story has been reconstructed from the personal papers of Steve S.
and Erica S.  The first three entrees are from the journals of Steve


        Things are going exceedingly well at work.  I am sure that I
will win the coveted lawyer of the year award in December.  My recent
promotion to partner was quite a feather in my cap; I am the youngest
partner in our firm.  Now my division is running like a top, and I am
convinced that we are the best division in the company.  I have to
admit that I love every minute of this success.
        It is hard to believe that I am this successful.  I have never
been the ambitious type, or particularly aggressive.  I never thought
I would get very far in corporate law.  The reality is that I owe my
success to my wife.  Erica is the aggressive, ambitious one in the
family.  She planned my successful rise through the ranks at work.  I
have found that if I follow her advice, I always succeed in career
matters.  But I owe my success more to her special powers than to her
advice.  She is, of course, a real live, flesh and blood witch.  It
seems so strange and dramatic to think that I am married to a genuine
witch!  Actually, she is a practitioner of the pagan religion of
Wicca.  Her spells and magic have propelled my career along since we
married three years ago.  With her by my side, I will go a long way.
It is wonderful to have a wife who is ambitious, powerful, and
exceedingly beautiful.  It is also amazing that she wants no credit
for the way she has helped my career.  I am a very successful lawyer,
and no one will ever know that Erica is responsible.  You 
 would think that a woman like her would want more than just the
status of being the wife of a powerful, successful man.

        Erica has made a most unusual suggestion, and I am not sure
what to do about it.  She wants to find out a little about what it is
like to be a man, and she thinks it would be good for me to briefly
experience life as a woman.  She claims that she has discovered a
spell in an old book on Wicca that would allow a man and woman to swap
bodies.  I find this hard to believe, but she insists it is true.  I
must admit, that she had always been right in the past about her
spells and powers.  If she says that she can bring about this body
swap, she is probably correct.
        So should I do it?  It is not a particularly appealing idea to
me, but she was very insistent about it.  She does not want to take
no for an answer.  What would it be like to spend a few days or a
week in that body?  I am so used to admiring her beauty from the
outside.  Would I enjoy it if that beauty was temporarily mine?  And
she is so gorgeous!  I love that attractive face, surrounded by her
long, straight, honey-blond hair.  I love that petite, 5/3" frame,
with its narrow waist, soft little shoulders, and large breasts.  She
can just make me melt with her gorgeous looks.  It certainly would be
odd to find myself suddenly living in that utterly feminine body.
        As reluctant as I am to agree to this body swap, I cant
imagine what harm could come of it.  Erica is somewhat bossy and
domineering, but she would never take advantage of the situation  I
know her too well, and I trust her completely.  And the reality is
that I sometimes enjoy her domineering nature.
        Maybe I will do it.  She would never do anything to hurt me.

        I have decided to go ahead with our little body swap.  We will
do the ritual on Saturday morning.  If it works, I will be Erica for a
few days.  Something strange just occurred to me: I will be my own

All subsequent entries are from the diary of Erica S.

Saturday, September 15
Dear Diary,
        I feel very disoriented!  The spell worked, and now I find
myself in Ericas body.  Ericas life essence is now living in my
body.  This whole experience is unbelievable.  I feel the need to
describe everything in great detail.  Maybe it will help me keep
things straight.
        Things are so different!  It feels strange walking around in
this tiny, petite body.  Everything looks so tall!  And so many things
about me have changed!  This body moves differently.  My walk is
graceful, supple, and ladylike.  My voice sounds entirely different,
too.  I speak in the upper octaves, in a lilting, musical voice.  I
have even adopted some of Ericas habits.  For example, I find myself
choosing to write in  her diary rather than in my old journal.  I am
fascinated by all of these incredible changes.  It is like a whole new
world is opening up to me!  But I think I should start at the
beginning, and explain just how much I have changed.
        The spell did not take long.  It was a fifteen minute ritual
of incantations and chanting by Erica.  By the end of the ritual,
nothing had happened.  I must say that I was relieved.  It looked like
I would not have to spend a few days as a woman.  Then I started to
get dizzy and my body went numb.  We both had to sit down.  Suddenly,
I was yanked out of my body.  I found myself floating in empty space,
unable to see, hear, or feel.  I guessed that I was a soul without a
body, in transition between my mortal abode and Ericas.  Then
something seemed to be torn away from me.  I tried to cry out in pain,
but could not.  The pain was excruciating!  Then, a foreign substance
came flowing into me slowly, filling the hole.  It eased my pain as it
took the place of whatever I had lost.  It was also soothing and
calming, and made me feel different than I had ever felt before.  The
restlessness that I had always carried with me was replaced by a
passive calmness.  This process went on for a long time, and then
abruptly I was forced back into a body.
        I looked around, trying to get my bearings, and sway my own
body looking back at me.  That is when I realized that I had been
deposited in Ericas body.  I looked down and, sure enough, saw a
small, shapely, female body.  The breasts, my breasts, were huge.
Even though they were strapped into a bra, the weight pulled my upper
body forward.  I had to lean back to compensate.  As I settled into
the body during the next few seconds, compensating for the weight of
my breasts became more natural.  It was like I suddenly connected with
the habits of the body, and discovered a different way of sitting.  I
commented on my experience to the new inhabitant of my body.  Erica,
speaking in my voice, explained that I was bonding with the body.
        It was disorienting to hear myself speaking with Ericas
lilting voice, and to hear my manly voice being controlled by Ericas
life essence.  I even seemed to speak with her feminine inflection,
just as the person sitting next to me spoke with a masculine
intonation.  Just who was I now?  Was I Erica or Steve?  Was the
person sitting next to me Steve or Erica?  I voiced my confusion, and
my spouse replied with a question.
        Tell me what your real name is, the name you have used all
your life.
        Thats an obvious question. I said with scorn.  Of course,
my real name is Erica.  What did you think I --.   I stopped in
confusion.  I had meant to say Steve, but Erica had come out, as if
by force of habit.
        My spouse laughed at my surprise, then asked another question,

What is your real sex, the sex you have grown up with?
        I was determined not to make the same mistake twice.  I would
get my sex right, at least.  You know as well as I do that I am
really a woman--.  My body jerked as I realized that I had done it
again.  Despite my best intentions, I had presented myself as a woman
rather than a man.  What in the world was going on?  Will you please
tell me what is happening?  I pleaded.  Why did I call myself Erica
instead of Steve?  Why did I say I am really a woman?
        Steve laughed, Your life essence is now bonded with that
body, like I was saying.  The spell has locked you into a womans body
and brain, with all of its feminine mannerisms and habits.  Those
mannerisms and habits will be yours for as long as the spell is in
effect, and for as long as you inhabit that soft little body.  Your
gestures, the way you talk, and most of your behavior will be
consistent with Ericas personality and identity.  So you will find
yourself speaking with Ericas inflections, writing with Ericas
handwriting, and using Ericas feminine mannerisms.  On a deeper
level, you will find yourself enjoying the things Erica likes now,
rather than your old interests.  You will refer to yourself as a woman
by habit, and the name Erica will be more natural for you to use.
Even Ericas memories are available to you now.  After all, they are
stored in the brain you are inhabiting.  You have access to Steves
memories as well, stored in your life essence.  The same principles
apply to me, by the way.  I am now Steve in all the ways that count.

        I sat back in shock and tried to absorb all of this.  I had
gotten more than I bargained for with this body swap!  Finally I
spoke, You mean I have Ericas personality now as well as her body?
        Exactly, was Steves reply.  You are now Erica in every
way.  You are going to find out everything about life as a woman from
the inside.
        I sighed and settled back on the couch.  I was Erica both in
body and mind!  It was unbelievable, but I could not deny the evidence
of my own senses.  This was going to take some getting used to.  Then
I thought of something.  I still had not inspected the merchandise.  A
tiny thrill passed through me at the idea of looking my new body over.
I got up, and headed for the full length mirror in our bedroom.  I
told Steve that this transformation was something I had to see.
        Looking in the mirror was the most disorienting part of this
whole thing.  Instead of Steve, Erica stared back at me out of the
mirror.  My reflection was all woman -- I had long, luxurious, blond
hair, and a voluptuous, shapely figure.  I had two distinct reactions
to my reflection.  The part of me that was still Steve was shocked by
my radically changed appearance.  But Ericas memories told me the
reflection was familiar, as familiar as the back of my hand.  Part of
me felt lost in this foreign body, while another part felt perfectly
at home.  Then a powerful reaction surged up out of  Ericas memories,
overwhelming the feeling of unfamiliarity.  That was my body in the
mirror, and it was gorgeous.  I could not help liking it -- no, loving
        Steve joined me at the mirror, but I was too caught up in
looking myself over to say anything.  I found myself pleased by my
taste in clothing and jewelry.  I was wearing a knit turtleneck that
showed off my ample breasts.  Tight black slacks emphasized my narrow
waist and full, womanly hips.  A heavy gold necklace matched my gold
hoop earrings.  I was most impressed with my artfully applied make-up.
It had been put on sparingly, but it emphasized my best features.  The
most amazing part was the realization that I somehow knew how to apply
this make-up.  As I looked myself over, it almost seemed that I was
going into a trance.  I could not take my eyes off my image in the
mirror.  The more I looked at the new me, the more I liked her.
Girl, I though, you are a sight to behold.  You are so lucky to be
such a beauty.  There I was again, thinking of myself as a member of
the fair sex.  I had suddenly found myself smack dab in the middle of
the world of femininity and womanhood, and I was perfectly happy with
it.  I liked being a woman.
        Steve finally spoke.  He had been looking over his new body
with obvious admiration.  He was enjoying his appearance, just as I
had enjoyed living in that ruggedly handsome body.  I certainly do
like this change.  How do you like your new looks, Erica?
        I love the way I look, I replied honestly.  I never knew
that being pretty could feel so wonderful.  This is the sort of thing
I could get used to.  I seemed to sink deeper into that pleasant
trance as I spoke.
        We admired ourselves in the mirror for almost a half hour.
Then Steve said we had enough, and practically dragged me away from
the mirror.  I really did not want to stop admiring myself.  We
decided to watch the Saturday afternoon college football games.  This
was a fall ritual for us -- football was an interest that we both
shared.  There should be no reason for our body swap to change this
common interest.  We settled on the couch together, Steve with the
beer that I used to like.  I drank a figure preserving diet Coke.
        A short time into the game I became restless and bored,
however, for some reason the football game was not at all appealing.
My slacks were becoming uncomfortable, as well.  They  felt too tight
and restrictive on my legs.  Steve noticed my restlessness and
commented on it.  I decided to get up and change into something more
comfortable.  Steve did not mind; in fact, he voiced his approval.
        As I went through my closet in the bedroom, the skirts hanging
there caught my eye.  Perhaps they would be more comfortable.  I took
off my slacks and slipped into a full khaki skirt, leaving my
pantyhose on.  The skirt had cute buttons that ran down the front and
a wide belt.  Then I took a half-slip out of my dresser, and put it on
under the skirt.  I put on some heels, instead of the flats I had been
wearing, knowing that they added height would look good.  The change
of clothes felt wonderful.  My legs were free and unrestrained now.
The soft fabric of my slip felt nice on my hose and I liked the way
the full skirt swung as I walked.  The high heels required me to walk
in a more graceful manner, which I found myself enjoying.  As I looked
in the mirror, I saw a pleasingly feminine reflection.
        I was comfortable now, but not in the mood to watch football.
Instead, I decided to do some cleaning around the house.  By first, I
brought Steve another beer.  His drink was gone and he looked thirsty.
Steve immediately noticed my change of clothes and looked amused.
You have only been a woman for an hour and you are already in a
skirt, he commented.
        I was taken aback.  All I could do was smile sheepishly and
replay, Well, it seemed a lot more comfortable.  My answer sounded
kind of lame.  Why had I been so quick to put on a skirt and heels?
What in the world was I doing?  I looked down at my clothes with
        Dont be embarrassed, Steve said gently.  He was too
perceptive, reading me like a book.  That skirt really flatters your
figure, and it makes you look soft and inviting.  I can see why you
would want to try it on and leave it on.  You should experiment with
femininity while you have the change.  With that, he turned his
attention back to the football game.
        I quickly retreated from the living room, feeling a little
uncomfortable.  I was enjoying my feminine attire a lot, maybe too
much.  This kind of a reaction was the last thing I had expected from
myself.  I put myself to work straightening up the house, knowing that
it would take my mind off the situation.  Now that I was firmly in
place in Ericas body, there was no sense worrying about it.  I had
agreed to spend a few days as a woman, and now there was no turning
        After I finished straightening up, I went to the kitchen and
began work on dinner.  Usually we cooked dinner together, but Steve
deserved to enjoy the prerogatives of masculinity while he had them.
I did not ask for any help.  I found that I enjoyed cooking for him.
        After dinner and a pleasant evening together, I got ready for
bed.  Steve was watching CNN in the living room and I was alone in the
bedroom.  I had been anticipating this moment, when I would see my
entire body naked in the mirror.  If anything would bring home my new
identity, this was it!  I stripped down to my panties and bra, and
carefully hung my clothes up.  It was funny how I had lost my old
masculine habit of leaving my clothes on the floor.
        My reflection in the mirror betrayed my anxiety.  I looked
scared.  As I looked over my reflection, I seemed very tiny and
delicate, definitely a member of the weaker sex.  An uncomfortable
sense of just how weak and powerless I was flowed through  me.
Slowly, I lowered my panties.  Nothing was there, hanging between my
legs.  I had expected this, but it was still a shock.  My soft
love-mound stared back at me in the mirror, waiting and receptive.
The sense of powerlessness grew stronger.  Then a scary realization
hit me.  My God, I was now a helpless, delicate woman, living in a
mans world!  I had given up my manhood, and suddenly I realized how
foolish that had been.  I could no longer defend myself.  There were
many things, simple things, that I was no longer strong enough to do.
Carrying a medium size suitcase was a good example.  A sense of total
impotence settled inside me.  In that moment I understood just how
weak and vulnerable women are.  I was glad that Steve was in the other
room, being home alone at night was a scary prospect.  It occurred to
me that I would carry this feeling of weakness and vulnerability with
me ever minute of my time as Erica.
        This overwhelming sense of powerlessness was not something I
had bargained for when I agreed to the body swap.  It was so
uncomfortable that I found myself yearning for my old strong and
virile body.  But as I looked myself over, I started to have another
reaction.  My reflection was attractive.  I liked the soft, womanly
body in the mirror.  There was something soothing and calming about my
new shape.  My curves looked so gentle, my body so soft.  I felt
myself being lulled into a state of quiet peacefulness, a kind of deep
passivity.  It was that trance again.  As I relaxed, I turned my
attention to my breasts.  I undid my brassiere in the back, and let it
fall off my breasts.  Although I had seen them many times before, they
had never been mine.  They were huge, almost a D cup according to
Ericas memories.  The most striking thing about my new breasts was
the appearance of the nipples.  They were large and dark colored. My
breasts felt much heavier now that the bra was not supporting them,
and this was a sensuous feeling.  I was quite amazed at how sensuous
my breasts felt.  In fact, they quivered with a sense of luscious
pleasure.  They dripped with sexual delight.  I cupped them in my
hands, and gently caressed them.  God this felt good!  My nipples got
hard and erect, and the pleasurable sensation increased.  I also
noticed a wetness between my legs, and an erotic sensation there.  It
felt so good that I was not sure I could stop.  I found myself looking
over my entire body and getting turned on by my voluptuous, womanly
shape.  My large breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, and sexy legs
looked wonderful!  My shoulders were so narrow, my neck so delicate.
And the way my long mane of blonde hair framed my face was precious!
        I felt a drop of moisture running down my inner thigh.  This
felt better than foreplay had ever felt when I was a man!  Suddenly,
my legs got weak, and I nearly dropped to my knees.  I let go of my
breasts and backed away from the mirror.  This was so overwhelming!  I
knew what I wanted to do next, but did not know if I dared.  Should I
give in to the pleasures of sex in this body?  The thought seemed so
        Finally, I made up my mind.  Searching through my dresser
drawers, I found a powder blue babydoll nightie.  The original Erica
had rarely worn it, preferring simple pajamas and nightgowns.  Bu I
knew that I would like it far better than my other gowns.  I slipped
it on and appraised myself in the mirror.  It was perfect, both
feminine and sexy at the same time.  I brushed my hair in the
bathroom, sprayed on some perfume, and sashayed through the living
room where Steve was watching television.  His eyes nearly bulged out
of his head when he saw me.  Its time to turn in, dear, I cooed,
but Ericas not sleepy.  Do you think you can help me?  I was
surprised at my own feminine wiles.  They came so naturally!  Steve
followed me enthusiastically into the bedroom.
        My body responded the way you would expect.  It was a very
passionate night.

Sunday, September 16
Dear Diary,
        My second day as Erica began routinely.  I got up before Steve
and fixed bacon, eggs, and coffee for his breakfast.  He seemed to
appreciate it, and I continued to enjoy cooking for him.  I could only
have yogurt for breakfast -- a woman has to watch her weight, you
        That afternoon, Steve suggested I go shopping at the mall.  He
said that shopping for clothes was a feminine pleasure that I should
not miss.  I decided to follow his advice and got dressed to go out.
I put on a cute, two-piece dress for my first trip out.  The jacket
top was periwinkle with large dots, short sleeves, and a sweetheart
neckline.  The flip skirt was the same color with smaller dots.  It
was short, not quite covering my knees.
        By early afternoon I was at a local mall.  I started out
window shopping at the many dress shops.  I wanted to look around
extensively before buying anything.  The clothes were all so
attractive that I was afraid I would run up a huge credit card bill
and get in trouble with Steve.  After I had been at the mall for an
hour, I started to notice men looking appreciatively at me.  I was
dressed very nicely and had spent a lot of time on my make-up in order
to look attractive.  But I had not expected to draw stares from men,
and I started to feel self-conscious.  I could feel myself blushing
furiously, and I felt both vulnerable and exposed.  It was as if my
sexy dress and make-up had put me on display.  I had never known that
women have to tolerate being on show like this.  But now that I was at
the mall, there was nothing I could do about it but try to ignore it.
        Then the attention started to affect me strangely.  All of
those male eyes on me made me feel incredibly feminine.  A wave of
femininity washed over me, washing me away in its womanly wake.  I
felt more ladylike and delicate than I would have thought possible.
The attention of the men had underscored my femininity and somehow
magnified it a hundredfold.  My own attention was drawn to my body
against my will.  I enjoyed the feel of my silky hair on my shoulders,
and the feel of my skirt on my hose-covered legs.  Despite my petite
frame, my legs felt long and coltish in the short, suggestive skirt.
My breasts jiggled slightly in my bra as I walked.  Even the sound of
my high heels clicking on the marble floor was a pleasure.  Walking
had suddenly become a sensuous art.  My steps were small and dainty,
my hips swung gently, and my dress swayed back and forth as I moved.
I was falling into that trance again, and seemed to be losing control
of my behavior.  I knew that I should restrain my sexy walk and try to
be discreet.  It would get the attention off of me and help me regain
control.  But I couldnt!  Instead, I was embellishing my sexy walk,
letting my hips sing more and sticking my large breasts out for all to
observe.  I enjoyed walking like that!  More men started to notice me,
and soon I was trapped in a viscous cycle.  The more that men noticed
me, the sexier I acted.  The sexier I acted, the more I was noticed.
Soon I was looking enticingly into the eyes of the passerby, licking
my lips seductively, and running my fingers through my hair.  And I
could not stop!  At one point, I cooingly asked a man what time it
was.  After he told me, I gasped a sexy thank you and sashayed away.
I knew that his eyes were following my receding figure intently, and I
was thrilled by it.
        At this point, I was about ready to panic.  I was completely
out of control, unable to reign in my new feminine instincts.  I had
become a voluptuous woman who loved flaunting herself, a totally sexy
creature with no self-control.  No matter how hard I fought it, I
could not restrain myself!  My trip to the mall was becoming a
disaster.  Where would this end?  What would happen to me next?
        Then something distracted my attention.  I noticed a beauty
salon as I strolled past.  The activity inside fascinated me.  I could
barely take my eyes off the women getting their hair done there.  The
final results looked so pretty!  Suddenly, I had an overwhelming urge
to go in and get my hair done!  I just wanted to look more beautiful
and feminine!  The thought of my pretty straight hair in curls was so
tempting!  I stood there knowing that I should resist the temptation
of sinking even deeper into femininity.  Besides, what would the real
Erica think when she got her body back.  She had always liked straight
hair, and refused my past suggestions to get a perm.
        I could feel myself sinking deeper into the hypnotic trance,
and further into comfortable femininity.  My mind was filled with the
image of pretty blond curls, cascading off my shoulders.  I took a few
uncertain steps toward the beauty shop.  Then I gave in, and hurried
into the shop.  I just could not control the overwhelming desire to
get my hair done!  I wanted to be as feminine as possible!  At least
this took me away from my out-of-control sexual gyrations.
        Hours passed as my hair was rolled and treated with chemicals
that would give me permanent curls.  As I sat under the dryer, I
enjoyed reading Cosmopolitan magazine.  During the lengthy wait, I
found myself admiring the long, painted fingernails of my beautician.
That overwhelming desire to be feminine came over me again, and I
found myself asking about manicures.  After the permanent, I sat down
with the manicurist, and she gave me long, luxurious, red fingernails.
I absolutely loved my painted nails!  I bought some of the mail
polish, so I could keep up my fingernails and paint my toenails as
        At the end of the process, I admired their handiwork in a
mirror.  My full head of hair now fell in curly locks halfway down my
back.  It looked so gorgeous!  They gave me instruction on rolling my
hair each morning to maintain the look.  I was very excited with my
new look.  It was wonderful.  As I examined myself, a thought occurred
to me.  The original Erica had always worn light make-up, preferring a
natural look.  I preferred something more dramatic and sexy.  The next
logical step would be a makeover.
        When I left the beauty shop, I went directly to the make-up
counter in one of the large department stores.  I was mesmerized at
the thought of a complete makeover.  It was as if a magnet was drawing
me to the make-up section, and I could not stop myself.  I asked the
saleswoman for a full makeover, and explained that I was seeking a
sexy, exciting, yet feminine look.  The saleswoman proceeded to apply
foundation, blush, powder, mascara, eye liner, eye shadow, and bright
red lipstick.  She even lined my lips.  Each step of the way, she
showed me what to do.  The finished product was amazing.  I had gone
from being beautiful to being a total knockout!  My eyes looked
larger.  Long, feminine lashes swept down every time I blinked.  My
high cheekbones looked wonderful with the blush.  My lips looked moist
and red, and they matched my fingernails.  I bought enough make-up to
last a long time, and headed home.  My sexy walk kicked in more
pronounced than ever as I passed through the mall, but I was able to
stay on course.  The mall was nearly closed at this time, which
probably helped.
        I was a little anxious about Steves reaction.  Would he be
angry at me for spending so much money, and for making all these
changes to a borrowed body?  I did not need to worry.  Steve took a
double-take when he saw me, but he definitely approved.  He said that
he liked my new look, and that I should immerse myself in the
pleasures of womanhood while I could.  Then he gave me a big kiss.  I
went to the kitchen to fix some dinner, floating on cloud nine because
he liked the new me.  I wondered how he would react when he saw the
new me tonight in my babydoll nightie.  (He reacted well.)

Monday, September 17
Dear Diary,
        Today Steve went to work to do my old job while I stayed at
home to be the housewife.  That powerful sense of femininity was still
with me from the day before.  I felt so ladylike and delicate!  It
seemed so nice to stay at home and take care of the house while my
husband was at work in his law office.  But I was faced with one
problem.  I suddenly could not bear the thought of wearing a pair of
slacks again.  The old Erica had very few dresses, preferring tight,
sexy pants.  Well, the new Erica needed to luxuriate in pure
femininity  ranging from long, flowing dresses to short, sexy skirts.
I had worn most of my dresses and skirts at this point, and I
desperately needed a few new dresses.  I called Steve at the office,
and he gave me permission to buy ten new outfits.
        After I cleaned up the house, I fixed myself up to go out
again.  Rolling hair and putting on make-up certainly can be time
consuming.  Finally I was ready, wrapped up in a cute little
shirtdress.  I went back to the mall, and tried my hand at shopping
again.  As soon as I was in the mall, my provocative walk started
again.  But this time I ignored it, and the looks I got.   I just had
to accept the fact that for some reason I had become extremely sexy
when I was yoked to Ericas body.  Strangely, I seemed to be sexier
than the original Erica.  But I made a point of keeping my mind on
task this time, rather than on sex.
        I had a wonderful time shopping.  At the end of the trip, I
was pleased to know that I would not have to wear pants again as long
as I was Erica.  These ten outfits would keep me immersed in
femininity for the rest of my stay in this body.
        Once I got home, I hung up all my new clothes and tried to
find something to do.  I ended up watching Oprah and Sally and loving
those shows.  I had never liked them before, but now they seemed
wonderful and sensitive.  Then I decided to make a special,
candlelight dinner for Steve that night.  The more I thought of it,
the more the prospect of a romantic dinner excited me.  I cooked a
delicious lasagna, made Caesar salad, and prepared Italian bread with
garlic.  I set the dining room table with our good china and candles.
As I was cooking and setting the table, a deep sense of submissiveness
came over me.  I was enjoying the thought of serving Steve dinner.  It
made me think how nice it was to serve him and even obey him.  I liked
the idea of being the docile wife who yielded to her powerful husband.
An idea formed in my head as I worked.  I would show him what it was
like to be waited on hand and foot by a totally obedient, dutiful
wife.  For the night, I would be his sweet little servant.  The idea
had a soothing, calming effect on me.  I felt pleasantly passive and
peaceful.  Then I started falling into that trance again.  The idea of
being the subservient little housewife was becoming as appealing to me
as the thought yesterday of having my hair done.
        After I finished making dinner, I prepared myself.  I wanted
to be the perfect little wife tonight, and I was determined to look my
best.  At this point, the thought of waiting on him hand and foot had
become completely irresistible.  I hoped it would be irresistible to
him, too.  I put on one of my new dresses.  It was a blue dress, with
white and pink flowers.  It had a scoop neck and long, full skirt.
The skirt came halfway down my calves.  The waist was shaped, and the
dress tied in the back.  I wore a triple strand of pearls around my
neck, dangling pearl earrings, and a triple strand pearl bracelet.
White, three-inch heels toped off the outfit.  I inspected the final
product in the mirror, and was pleased to see that I was utterly
feminine.  I was a vision of sweet femininity.  That hypnotic feeling
of submissiveness intensified.  I went to the kitchen and tied a
frilly, blue apron around my waist.  It emphasized my subservient,
wifely role and made me feel even more obedient.  The sense of
powerlessness and weakness I had felt the first night came back, too,
but this time I enjoyed it completely.  I did not need power as long
as I had Steve.
        I met Steve at the door with a glass of wine.  I gave it to
him, and took his briefcase, suitcoat, and tie.  When I returned to
the living room, he was settled on the couch looking content.  I had
brought his slippers, and knelt in front of him.  As I untied his
shoes and removed them, I explained what I had in mind for the
evening, I am yours to command tonight.  I will serve and obey you.
Every wish of yours is now my deepest desire.  It seems that I am
helplessly in your thrall.  Putting my secret desire into words only
intensified it.  I could feel myself starting to get wet.
        Steve smiled enthusiastically, obviously liking the idea of
having his beautiful wife at his beck and call.  This is like a dream
come true, he replied.  I cant tell you how exciting the thought of
having you under my total control is.  You can be my little
chambermaid.  How does that sound?
        It sounds wonderful, darling.  You have conquered me.  I
said meekly.  His obvious pleasure thrilled me.
        I began to gently massage his feet, remembering how sore they
often were after a days work.  I found myself getting lost in my
subservient, wifely role as I worked.  It felt like I was getting
smaller and less important.  His powerful will seemed to override mine
until my sole remaining desire was to serve him.  The proper role for
a woman became clear to me in that moment.  It was to wait on her
husband, hand and foot.  Since I was the woman now, this was my proper
place in life.  The thought of staying Erica for the rest of my life
crossed my mind.  It would be hard to top the joy that I was
experiencing as a woman.
        Some dim part of my mind wondered what I looked like, in my
long dress, jewelry, and apron, kneeling obediently before my husband,
serving him.  That dim part seemed to cry out suddenly: This is a
trap!  You are being turned into a woman!  If you dont stop this now,
you will spend the rest of your life serving a husband who should
really be your wife!  You will lose your position of male privilege
and be trapped in this yielding, powerless female persona that has
been created for you!
        I ignored that strange voice in my head, and lost myself in
the work of massaging his feet.  How could I think such odd things,
especially when I was enjoying myself so much?  I finished the foot
massage and put his slippers on his feet.  I looked up lovingly into
his eyes, and I could see the pleasure and affection there.  I saw
something else, too.  Was it glee?  It must have been quite a thrill
to have me in this position of yielding obedience.  He held all the
cards now.  By this point I was helpless, unable to stop myself from
serving him even if I wanted to.  I wondered if he realized how much
control he had.  But it did not really matter if he knew.  All that
mattered was that I would do whatever he wanted for as long as I was
Erica.  He accepted my offer of a back massage.  After the massage, I
went to serve dinner.  We had a wonderful dinner, and a wonderful
evening.  As I had planned, I satisfied his every whim that night.
Tuesday, September 18
Dear Diary,
        I woke this morning feeling wonderful.  I felt rested and
content.  My long, silky white gown was luxurious on my body.  I put
on the matching robe and went into the bathroom to brush my hair.
Steve had left for work already, and I had overslept.  He was sweet
not to wake me and make me fix breakfast, but I felt a little guilty
for not fulfilling my wifely responsibilities.  Steve must have felt
that I deserved to sleep in after our late night of passion.  And it
had been quite a night.  Now I knew what a love-slave was, and I was
well on my way to becoming one.
        As I brushed my golden tresses, I realized that the feeling of
submissiveness I had felt the previous night was still with me.  I
seemed small and insignificant, and took great pleasure at the thought
of serving Steve.  It felt wonderful to know that I could obey his
every whim for as long as I was Erica.  And I enjoyed the reflection
in the mirror of the soft, demure woman brushing her hair.
        The day went routinely.  I stayed in my gown and enjoyed its
comfort as I cleaned a little and rustled up a small lunch.  During
the afternoon, I spend most of my time reading a romance novel that I
had bought at the mall yesterday.  It was marvelous.  I was through
with reading thrillers and mysteries now that I was Erica.  Late in
the afternoon, I started getting ready for a cocktail party being held
by Steves office that night.  It was a celebration of a large new
account that the office had obtained.  My mind turned to the joys of
dressing for the occasion.
        That night when Steve got home to pick me up, I was waiting in
a lovely, short, red cocktail chemise.  It had a scooped neckline,
open back, and it hugged my ample curves lusciously.  It also showed a
lot of leg.  My jewelry consisted of a gold choker, gold hoop
earrings, and a wide gold bracelet.  For shoes, I wore three inch red
spike heels.  Steve did not bother to change his suit when he got
home.  He helped me into my red, three-quarter length swing coat, and
we were on our way.  He opened the car door for me like a gentleman.
I felt like such a lady.
        The Party, my first social event as Erica, turned out to be
disquieting.  Previously, I had attended as one of the guys.  Now I
was one of the wives.  I quickly discovered that my new female
personality was unusually timid and fearful.  My former colleagues now
looked big and intimidating from this petite, delicate body.  It did
not help that my cocktail dress displayed so much leg and cleavage.  I
felt exposed and quite vulnerable.  My onetime associates were now
leering at my voluptuous body, and some of their wives even gave me
envious looks.  I found myself staying close to Steve for protection.
When he left me, I felt more anxious and vulnerable.  When I was by
his side, I felt safe and comfortable.  I realized unpleasantly that I
had become totally dependent on his strength.  Seeing the power that
Steve and my former colleagues wielded brought home just how much I
had lost with this body swap.  As Erica, I was a powerless, weak-need
        Midway through the party, my sexy feminine instincts went into
overdrive again, awakened by the growing attention from my former
colleagues and the wine I was drinking.  I tried to control myself,
but I could not stop.  Soon I was exuding voluptuous, seductive charm.
When I walked, I led with my breasts and my hips swung suggestively.
I offered alluring looks to the men I met.  My tongue occasionally
darted out of my mouth, offering sweet temptation.
Twice I deliberately dropped my purse so I could bend over and offer a
look at my shapely buns.  I flaunted my body shamelessly, and it
created quite a stir in the crowd.  When I talked to me, I found
myself giggling and cooing coquettishly.  Every time I tried to talk
to a man, I found myself flirting.  It was as if I had been
transformed into a stereotypical dumb blond who could not carry on
an intelligent conversation.  It was frustrating to sound like such an
airhead, because I have always prided myself on my intellect.  No
matter how hard I tried, I sounded like a brainless female.  But the
men found me enchanting, despite my silly chatter.
        It eventually occurred to me that my seductive charm and
airhead act was more than just a reaction to the men.  It was also an
act to cover up for my fearfulness.  But no matter how hard I tried to
stop, I could not.  I had lost all control over my behavior.  This new
personality was just too powerful for me.  As long as I was Erica, I
was doomed to be a seductive dumb blond.
        Toward the end of the evening, I overheard a most unusual
conversation.  I was in the Ladies room, in one of the stalls.  Two
women came in, and started talking about me.  They began gossiping, as
we women often do, and soon they were talking about how much I had
changed.  They thought my perm and make-up were a total departure from
the natural look that I had always preferred.  The women were not
struck by the change in my behavior, however.  They wondered how an
intelligent woman like me could suddenly become a such a bubble
head.  And they wondered why I seemed like such a sex pot now.
They also noticed that I deferred to Steve and followed him around
like a puppy dog, after years of wearing the pants in the family.
I thought long and hard on what they said after they left the Ladies
room.  I had supposedly gained most of Ericas personality when I
bonded with her body.  But in reality, I was much more feminine, sexy,
and submissive than the original Erica had ever been!  What was going
on?  The original Erica had not been overcome with the joys of wearing
dresses, jewelry, and having her hair done.  The original Erica had
not wished to submit to her husband.  She had certainly never kneeled
before her husband, or agreed to be his love-slave.  If anything, she
had worn the pants in the family, and it had been obvious enough that
the other wives had known.
        An explanation began to form in my head.  What if Erica  the
original Erica  had wanted to literally wear the pants in the family?
What if she had maneuvered me into her female body in order to take my
male body as her own?  Her spell could have intentionally given me
this ultrafeminine persona, as well.  That would explain why I was
obsessed with femininity and submissiveness.  The end result would be
a new Erica (me), who was all woman and exactly the kind of wife that
most men would want.
        A chill ran through me.  If this was true, I was in deep
trouble.  I might never get my own body back.  I was much too weak to
physically force Steve to return my body.  And immersed in this
feminine persona, I could never stand up to him.  I was so submissive
now that I would be helpless in an argument.  I would find myself
doing whatever he wanted, and probably serving him sexually as well.
He definitely held all the cards.  Girlish tears rolled down my face.
I had never cried when I was Steve, but it was all I could do to avoid
breaking into a fit of sobbing I would have to talk to Steve and find
out if any of this was true.  Maybe I could find a way out of this
        I carefully redid my make-up and then went out to join my
husband.  For the rest of the evening I pondered my situation.  I
realized that I would have to confront Steve when we got home, but I
would have to be careful not to make him angry.  It would do me no
good to make him mad.  If I could just get back into my old body, even
for a few seconds, I would be alright.  Once in my rightful body, I
would never leave again.
        As soon as we got home, I brought up the subject.  Steve had
barely finished hanging up our coats, when I asked to talk to him.  We
sat on the couch together with two glasses of wine.
        Something has gone wrong with our body swap, I began.  You
said that I would have Ericas personality while I was in this body.
But my new personality is not like the original Erica at all.  The
original Erica was strong, but I am incredibly submissive and weak.  I
am obsessed with soft, feminine clothes to the point that I just cant
get enough of wearing dresses and jewelry.  I seem to love ruffles and
skirts.  The original Erica didnt care for skirts and ruffles at all.
And t I turn into this seductive, alluring creature whenever I am
around men.  The first Erica was never like that.  Something has
really gone haywire with the body swap.  I have become too feminine.
It is like I am turning into the most feminine woman whoever lived.  I
have to put a stop to this somewhere, and I think now is the time.  I
think we should switch back to our old bodies tomorrow.  There.  I
had said it.  And Steve did not seem at all upset.
        You know, he replied, I have noticed the same thing about
your behavior.  It is odd how feminine you have become.  You are right
when you say that you are much more womanly than I was.  I have a
theory about that, though.  If my theory is right, then the effect is
        That intrigued me.  It would be a relief to discover that all
my worries were over nothing.  What is your theory?, I asked.
        My theory is that most men experience nothing of what it is
like to be a woman.  Most men know nothing of femininity.  Our culture
does not permit men to indulge their feminine side, but women are
often encouraged to develop their masculine side in their career.  You
suddenly found yourself immersed in femininity for the first time in
your life when we completed this body swap.  In fact, you abruptly
found yourself living in a feminine body and feminine personality.  It
was just too overwhelming for you.  You had no clue about how to deal
with femininity, and it overpowered you.  I believe that you will find
yourself back to normal once you are in your own body.
        I was relieved by his explanation.  It made perfect sense, and
there was no hint of a plan to keep me trapped as Erica.  I told Steve
that he was probably right, but that I wanted to switch back to our
original bodies the next day.  He agreed with no hesitation.  We
retired, and I slept a peaceful, sound sleep.  If all went well, I
would soon be a man again.

Wednesday, September 19
Dear Diary,
        We woke up this morning planning to do the body swap again.
We would soon be our old selves again. Steve stayed home from work for
the morning in order to complete our little switch.  I fixed a nice
breakfast, and dresses in a pair of cream colored slacks with a
matching sweater.  The slacks were uncomfortable, but I thought the
original Erica would appreciate them more than a skirt.
        If took Steve awhile to review the necessary incantations.
While he was doing that, I enjoyed a last round of housekeeping.  I
realized that I would miss this life.  Soon, I was feeling wistful and
sentimental about my brief tenure as a woman.  Femininity certainly
did have its advantages.
        Finally Steve was ready.  He gave me a hug and one final kiss
in our turnabout selves.  It was a long, lingering kiss, and I could
not help getting aroused.  Then I felt his familiar hands on my
breasts.  God this felt good!  He broke off the kiss eventually; it
seemed that I could not.  I looked at him wistfully.  It would be easy
to be mesmerized by his kisses.
        I have one last thing to show you before we change back,
Steve said.  Its a surprise that I was planning for the weekend.
You wont get to use it now, but you should at least look at it.  He
took my hand and led me into the bedroom.  From the back of his
closet, he produced a devastatingly beautiful black velvet dress on a
hanger.  As soon as I saw it, I went weak in the knees.  It looked so
soft and pretty!  A woman would feel like a beauty queen in a dress
like that.  Despite my better judgment, I wanted to put the dress on.
        He could tell I liked it, and suggested I try it on.  I could
be beautiful one last time, he said.  I simply could not resist.  As I
took off my sweater and slacks, he got out some black pumps and black
pantyhose for me.  I removed my bra  this dress required the woman to
go braless.
        Steve helped me slip on the dress.  The soft black velvet was
gilded with braided gold along its off-shoulder neckline.  The
neckline actually stood away from my shoulders, leaving them
completely bare and exposed.  The fitted bodice was tight on my waist,
and the full, flared skirt fell below my knees.  We added sexy,
dangling earrings and a bracelet.  I brushed my hair carefully, and
Steve held my hand as I stepped into my high heels.  Steve led me to
the full-length mirror, still holding my hand, and I looked myself
        The vision of feminine beauty that stared back at me made me
melt.  The dress was definitely me.  It was all feminine softness and
sexy vulnerability.  I could not take my eyes off my reflection.  Once
again, I was slipping into a trance, and feeling more womanish by the
second.  In the mirror I saw a delicious and delicate lady.  The
slacks I had worn earlier would be wasted on the feminine little
beauty in the mirror.
        You sure make an incredible woman, Erica, Steve said.  You
are more of a woman than I ever was.  It almost seems like you were
meant to be a girl, you had taken to it so well.  I have to admit, I
am going to miss you.
        I still could not take my eyes off the mirror.  My reflection
was enchanting. The trance deepened and I found that I was frozen in
place, unable to move.  I was rapidly becoming a slave to the image in
the mirror.  At this point my eyes were glazed and half closed.  My
mouth was parted gently, and my face had relaxed.  My hole body was
limp.  I could not help buy yield to the pull of the lovely, feminine
dress.  In this dress I was a milky, tender little sissy, and I loved
it.  The velvet material rubbed gently on my silky skin, brining out
every bit of the woman in me.  I did not belong in a mans world.  I
realized with conviction that I was not ready to go back to being
Steve yet.  I was enjoying being Erica far too much to turn back now.
It was impossible to turn back just now.
        Steve interrupted my reverie.  Erica, honey, are you alright?
Is something wrong?
        No, I gasped in a breathy voice.  I just cant get over
this dress.   And my reflection.  I dont think I am ready to go back
to being Steve yet, honey.  I really want to remain Erica for awhile.
Maybe a couple of weeks.  Would you mind?  I found myself looking at
him with desperate eyes.  I would be shattered if I had to go back to
being Steve now.  I batted my long eyelashes for effect.  Then I
averted my eyes submissively.
        Of course you can remain Erica for a couple more weeks, said
Steve.  The only reason we were going to switch back today was
because you wanted to.  You should continue to enjoy
being a member of the fair sex.  And I was not kidding when I said
that you were meant to be a girl.
        I smiled demurely, and batted my eyes again.  I was meant to
be a girl?  What a pleasant thought!  It certainly seemed that way.
Will you take me out to dinner tonight and show me off in my new
dress?, I cooed gently.
        Certainly, he replied.
        I luxuriated in my new dress the rest of the day, and enjoyed
my dutiful, wifely role.  Every time I glimpsed myself in the mirror,
I seemed to go deeper into a trance.  We had a wonderful dinner out,
and I took great pleasure in showing myself off.  My resistance to my
voluptuous, feminine wiles was gone.  I loved being on display.  I
flaunted my scented, powered, and well-wrapped body joyfully.  What a

Saturday, November 22
Dear Diary,
        This is Saturday morning as I write this.   The most fantastic
thing happened last night, and I need to write it down before I forget
any of the details.  The last few days have been kind of calm and
quiet.  I have been comfortably going about life as Erica, and
enjoying every minute of it. My routine is pretty simple  making
myself look pretty, keeping the house clean, and waiting on Steve like
a good little wife.  But last night something curious happened.  I lay
down to go to sleep at bedtime like usual.  I drifted off into a
peaceful sleep.  It seems like a floated in the pleasant darkness of
sleep for a long time . . .
        Suddenly I woke up.  My eyes opened abruptly, and were greeted
with an odd scene.  I was seated at the vanity table, looking at my
reflection in the mirror.  The reflection that greeted me was
something of a shock.  I was still Erica, but I was wearing a white
wedding dress.  And I looked several years younger than I should have.
Looking around, I saw that I was in a medium-sized, pink room.  There
was a closet at one end, a bureau next to the vanity, and a large,
full-length mirror on the wall.  I rose from the vanity table, and
rustled across the room to the mirror.  It was difficult to walk in
the cumbersome wedding gown.
        In this mirror I could see my entire body.  It was indeed a
wedding dress that I was wearing, and it looked familiar.  The dress
was incredibly full, no doubt brimming with petticoats.  The skirt
made quite a train behind me.  The sleeves were long and puffed at the
shoulders.  A deep -neck hinted at my breasts, and the dress was
embroidered with pearls and gold fiber.  Dangling pearl earrings and a
veil cap completed the picture.  My long, blonde hair fell, unpermed,
to my shoulders.
        I felt very feminine in the dress.  No female could help but
feel womanly in this kind of raiment.  But what was going on?  What
had happened to me now?  As my surprise wore off, both Ericas and
Steves memories told me that this was Ericas wedding dress.  I
remembered that this was the dress the original Erica had worn on our
wedding day.  Then Ericas memories told me something else.  This was
the room Erica had dressed in on our wedding day.  But how had I
gotten here, and why was I wearing this wedding dress?
        My hair was the length and style that the original Erica had
worn when we married.  And my face looked younger, as I had noted
before.  I looked like a nineteen year old Erica who had married me,
rather than the twenty-seven year old Erica I had become.  We had
married when Erica was a sophomore in college.  I had been twenty-five
then, and was just out of law school.  Erica had quit school when she
married me.  She disliked school, and channeled her ambitions into my
        At this point, I realized that I must be dreaming.  In my
sleep, I had dredged up memories of Ericas wedding day.  But this was
all so real!  Everything looked so real.  I could feel the soft dress
I was wearing, hear the rustle of my petticoats, and smell my perfume.
The room looked real, as well.  I had never had a dream with this much
        Then another detail assaulted me.  Deep down inside, I felt
like a nineteen-year old girl.  I was acutely aware of just how young
I was.  I was inexperienced and unworldly.  My naivete could easily
get me in trouble if there was no one to protect me.  I realized that
I now lacked the confidence that Erica had developed with age and
experience.  First I had given up my masculine power, now it seemed
that I had lost the strength and wisdom that come with age.  Suddenly,
I was a timid girl in my late teens!
        I was no longer sure that this was a dream.  It was so real!
And if my wife could turn me into the woman of the house, maybe she
could regress me as well!  Maybe she could make me a nineteen-year old
girl!  I swallowed hard.  What would I do now?  And what was going to
happen next?  Was I supposed to get married now?
        The last thought stopped me cold.  In an instant, I knew that
it was my wedding day.  I was to marry Steve today!  My heart started
pounding with excitement.  A thrill went through my whole body.  I had
wanted this for years!  My wedding day, the day that I would settle
down and start a family, was today!  I tried to put the brakes on my
excitement, but could not.  My feminine personality, now thrown back
to the tender age of nineteen, was completely in charge.  The only
thing I could think of was the sheer excitement of marrying Steve.  I
realized that I was breathing hard, and struggled to calm down.  It
took a few minutes for me to get hold of myself.  Even then, I could
not avoid the pleasant glow that accompanied the thought of getting
        Just as I was feeling calm again, there came a rap at the
door.  In popped Ericas younger sister, Elaine, without waiting for a
replay from me.  She was dressed oddly, in a tux.  I could not help
but wonder at her choice of clothes.
        Elaine looked me up and down, and smiled with satisfaction.
You look wonderful, she said.  It is almost time to begin.
        You mean the wedding?, I asked breathlessly, unable to hide
my excitement.
        She smiled again, this time a crafty smile.  Yes, the
wedding.  Of course, the wedding.  This is the most important day of
your life, and I am glad to see that you are excited by it.  By the
way, you should know something.  I know who you really are.  You dont
need to hide it from me.  And I think you will make a wonderful
        You mean, you know about the body swap?, I asked, shocked
that she might know.
        Yes, I know all about it.  All of the women here know about
it, and they approve.  Every single woman here approves.
        The thought that all the women in the congregation knew was
overwhelming.  It would be humiliating for them to know that I had
given my position of male privilege to Erica and taken her place as
member of the weaker sex.  It would be humiliating to have them watch
me walk down the aisle as the bride.  But how could they all know, and
frankly why would they believe this was possible?  The thought that
this might be a dream occurred to me again, and I asked Elaine.
        Yes, this is a dream, she acknowledged.  This is a dream
about your marriage to Steve.
        But it seems so real!, I protested.  Everything seems so
        It is a dream, though, she replied.  But you should keep
this in mind.  Dreams can be more real than reality.  They can be more
important than the real world.  What you do today will be very
important, It will shape the rest of your life.
        That thoroughly confused me.  If it was just a dream, why was
it important?  I asked Elaine.
        Im sorry, Erica, but I have told you all I can, she said.
I can give you a little piece of advice, however.  In this dream,
follow your newfound feminine intuition.  If you follow your womanly
instincts, this will turn out nicely.  You will become the first of a
new breed, and you will like the outcome more than you can imagine.
        I did not really understand her cryptic advice, but it seemed
wise to take advantage of my current assets.  Since I was a woman, I
should trust my intuition.
        Elaine shepherded me out of the dressing room and into the
waiting arms of Ericas mother.  She, too, was wearing a tux.  We
waited while Elaine took her place in the chapel.  Then, as the organ
sounded Here Comes the Bride, Ericas mother escorted me into the
chapel.  It seemed that she would be giving me away.
        All eyes were on me, as we walked slowly down the aisle.  I
felt incredibly feminine in my wedding dress, playing the role of the
bride.  And I was acutely aware that the women knew I had once been
Steve.  I seemed weak and exposed.  Still, I could not stop my
excitement at the thought of marrying Steve.  My heart was pounding,
my breathing heavy, and I could feel myself flushing red.  I was a
blushing bride!
        As we approached the altar, I noticed some strange things.
The priest who was to marry us was a woman.  She wore a clerical
collar, and seemed to beam with happiness and power.  My bridesmaids
were the real surprise, however.  The groomsmen from my wedding were
all liked up in blue bridesmaid dresses and matching blue pumps.
Somehow I knew that they had been forced into those feminine outfits,
complete with long womanish skirts.  The men appeared to be in a
trance.  They stared ahead, eyes wide and unseeing.  Ericas original
bridesmaids were standing alertly by Steve, wearing tuxedos.  Elaine
stood next to Steve, as the head groomsman.  I took all this in with
amazement.  What a strange dream!
        The priest spoke, beginning the ceremony.  I forgot all about
my strange surroundings and was soon caught up in the thrill of the
wedding.  Despite myself, I got lost in the joy of knowing that I
would soon be wed to the man of my dreams.  I knew that he would
always protect me and take care of me.
        Soon the priest turned to me.  Do you, Erica, take Steve to
be your lawfully wedded husband, to serve and to obey for the rest of
your life?  Will you be the dutiful wife, granting each of his
desires?  Will you accept the role of wife and subordinate, and bind
yourself over to his will forever?  Will you take on the mantle of
womanhood, with all of its joys and burdens, and abandon every last
bit of manhood?  Will you be feminine always?
        Her words stunned me.  I had not expected quite so much.  I
had anticipated simple wedding vows, but obviously I would be agreeing
to a lot here.  But I could not control my response.  I will!, I
blurted out eagerly.  Being a wife was just too tempting to refuse.
        Steves vows were next.  They were complimentary to mine, Do
you, Steve, take Erica to be your lawfully wedded wife, to control and
command for the rest of your life?  Will you be the faithful husband,
and protect this powerless little lady?  Will you accept the role of
husband and master, and bind her to your will always?  Will you take
on the mantle of manhood, with all of its joys and burdens?  Will you
be strong always?
        I will, he said confidently.
        I now pronounce you man and wife, proclaimed the priest.
She turned to Steve and said, You may kiss your bride.
        I turned to Steve and he gathered me into his arms.  He kissed
me deeply and strongly; I yielded demurely.  It felt wonderful.  I was
his woman now.
        As we turned to face the crowd, confusion broke out.  I heard
girlish cries of horror and disbelief, and manly cheer of victory,
Looking around, I noticed the bridesmaids.  They had changed
considerably.  They were all small, delicate women now!  I recognized
the facial features of my old friends, but the features had a feminine
cast now.  It was as if they had become their own sisters.  They were
out of the trance now, and realized what had happened.  Two of them
fell to their knees and began sobbing.  One simply stared down at her
body in disbelief.  Two appeared to be going into shock, eyes wide
with horror.
        I glanced over at the groomsmen and was greeted with another
chock.  They were men now, standing there confidently in their
tuxedos.  Each one had a smile of victory on his face, so different
from the tears of defeat coming from the bridesmaids.  Then I noticed
the biggest surprise of the day.  Everyone in the congregation had
switched genders.  All of the men were now women.  They stared down
fearfully at their shapely, skirted bodies.  All of these turnabout
women were petite, delicate and small-boned, and wrapped in pretty,
ruffled dresses.  Somehow I knew that their new personalities would be
as submissive and yielding as their new bodies were weak.  The cries
of horror had come from these turnabout women.
        And the women were all confident, athletic-looking men now.
The victory cheer had come from them.  In the blink of an eye, they
had acquired the masculine strength of the former men, and it was
clear they would not hesitate to use it to subjugate those who had
been transformed into women.  They simple stood there, emanating proud
strength.  The new men looked at their castrated, unmanned spouses and
family members with disdain.  The balance of power had suddenly
shifted in the room.  The former men had been reduced to helpless
women.  You could see how weak and vulnerable they had become,
stripped of their masculinity.  They would not be able to resist the
rule of their now-manly spouses.  As I watched the chaos in the room,
I could not escape the feeling that I was somehow responsible for what
had happened.  It was as if my willingness to marry Steve had allowed
them all to be transformed.  In the midst of all this chaos and
confusion, my dream ended.
        I sat up abruptly in bed.  It was dark in the room, still the
middle of the night.  Pondering the meaning of this strange dream and
still feeling vaguely guilty, I rolled over and went back to sleep.
        When I woke again, it was 10:00 a.m.  I was still tired, as if
the dream had exhausted me.  I was glad to be out of that strange
dream, but could not escape the feeling that I was Steves new bride.
I still felt like a nineteen-year old newlywed.  On a whim, I got the
wedding dress down from the attic and tried it on, as well as the
jewelry I wore on our wedding day.  The dress still fit as well as it
had years ago.  As I admired my comely reflection in the mirror, I
noticed something very unusual.  The age lines that had recently
started to appear on my face had vanished.  I looked like I was
nineteen again.  Good God, I thought, maybe I have regressed to the
age of nineteen!  Again, I felt unsophisticated and naive, and in
need of the protection of my older husband.
        No matter how hard I tried that day, I could not get myself to
take the wedding dress off.  I just wanted to savor the feeling of
being a new bride.  And all through the day for some reason Ericas
memories were very prominent.  I found myself reviewing Ericas life
as if it were my own.  When Steve came home from work, I greeted him
at the door in my wedding gown.  I asked him to carry me across the
threshold into our bedroom.  He seemed quite pleased by my request,
and gave me a deep kiss that made me melt in his arms.  He looked my
face over carefully, and I wondered if he noticed that I looked
younger.  Then he lifted my tiny body in his strong arms and carried
me into the bedroom.  He put me down, and started unbuttoning the back
of my dress.  I yielded demurely.  We consummated our marriage before

Monday, November 24
Dear Diary,
        Things are going so wonderfully that I have a hard time making
myself write in my diary.  But something rather unusual happened
today.  At first it was frightening, but then it changed my
perspective on this body swap entirely.  Perhaps I should start at the
        I arose before Steve as usual today.  After fixing myself up
quickly, I made him a delicious breakfast.  He left for the day, and I
went about my business at home.  I turned on the radio in order to
listen to some music.  Soon, I was enjoying Mariah Carey and some
other Top 40 artists.  I started dancing around the house, really
shaking my girlish little body.  The music was so infectious!  It made
me want to move!  The funning thing is that neither the original Erica
nor I have listened to this kind of music since we were teenagers.  I
sure enjoy it now, though.
        My love for teeny-bopper music makes me think that I really
have been regressed into an immature nineteen year old.  In general, I
find that I am more impulsive and less sure of myself, just like a
girl in her late teens.  I have not questioned Steve about the change,
however.  After all, being young is every womans dream.
        After I finished getting down in the living room, I got
ready for the day.  I fixed my hair and make-up, then put on a full,
red gingham dress with scoop neckline and platter collar.  My
appearance was most pleasing.  I was in the middle of my daily
cleaning when it happened.  As I was dusting the living room with a
feather duster, I felt an overwhelming sense of vertigo and confusion.
Then Ericas memories, which have continued to be prominent lately,
flooded over me.  It was overwhelming!  So far, I had been able to
access Ericas memories when I needed them.  Even though her memories
had been strong of late, I had been in control.  Now they were filling
my awareness all at once, and I could not stop them.  And, strangely
enough, they seemed to be my memories.  I remembered Ericas high
school prom as if it were my own.  I remembered attending college for
two years and living in the girls dorm.  I remembered arguing with my
sister over a boy at the age of 12, and playing dress-up in my
mothers clothes at the age of six.  I remembered my first date with a
boy, the time I was elected Homecoming Queen in college, and I again
remembered the thrill of my wedding day.  It seemed that I was
drowning in Ericas memories.  I lost all awareness of myself and my
surroundings.  After that, I was conscious only of the flood of
memories.  This went on for almost an hour before it finally stopped.
        When I came to myself, I was lying on the living room floor.
I got up, stumbled on my pumps, and almost fell down again.  I walked
cautiously to the bathroom and looked myself over in the mirror.  My
reflection was pale and wan.  I felt extremely different, but at first
I did not know why.  Then I understood.  Ericas memories had really
become mine.  They were clear and easy to access.  Too easy to access.
When I thought of my father, Ericas father came to mind.  When I
thought of getting married, all I could remember was being escorted
down the aisle in my white wedding gown.  Steves memories were gone
altogether.  I knew that I had once been Steve, but I could remember
nothing about being Steve.  The specifics of his life were gone,
except for what I knew about him as Erica.
        Staying bonded with this body for so long had robbed me of
Steves memories and made Ericas memories mine!  I tried hard to
reconnect with Steves memories, with absolutely no success.  His
memories were completely lost.  Confusion reigned as I struggled to
reject my feminine memories and find Steves missing memories.
        In the middle of this struggle, I became aware of a powerful
inner conviction that I was Erica.  I felt like I was Erica, like I
had always been Erica.  Steve was someone else, someone alien from me.
The memories I had tried to retrieve were actually the rightful
property of someone else!  My God!  I had made the complete transition
from Steve to Erica!  I was Erica now!  I had somehow been locked into
Ericas memories and her very identity.
        I stood there stunned.  I had Ericas body, her memories, and
now I knew at my core that I was Erica.  There was nothing of Steve
left.  I did not want to be Steve.  I loved who I was.  I adored being
Erica.  It was wonderful being softly feminine, voluptuously sexy, and
passively submissive.  The thought of becoming Steve again was
suddenly horrifying.  How could I give up wearing dresses and make-up?
How could I give up my long, blonde curls and my luxurious, red
fingernails.  How could I give up my obedient feminine role in life
and return to the aggressive cut-throat world of men?  There would be
no one to lean on, no one to take care of me!
        At that moment, I realized what I would have to do.  Somehow,
I would have to convince Steve to let me stay Erica forever.  I would
have to convince him to remain Steve.  A plan began to form in my
head.  He had liked my submissiveness.  Perhaps I could convince him
of the advantages of remaining a man and having an obedient wife at
his beck and call.
        When Steve came home that night, I was all ready.  This time I
greeted him at the door in high heels and jewelry  only.  I was
wearing dangling gold earrings, a gold chain around my neck, and gold
bangles on both arms.  My hair was carefully brushed, and it cascaded
down below my shoulders.  My make-up was perfect, especially my wet,
ruby-red lips.  My heels were fully five inches, and a gold anklet was
on my left ankle.  The rest of me was bare  totally exposed.
        Steve was surprised, of course.  But before he could speak, I
spoke up, This seemed like the best way to serve you tonight,
darling.  I want you to be able to inspect every inch of your property
tonight, as I wait on you.  And I want you to know that as long as I
am in this body, I am your personal property.  My sole desire in life
is obeying your masterful will.
        With that, I took his suitcoat, tie, and briefcase and
scampered out of the room.  I came back with his slippers, and
repeated my little act of kneeling and massaging his tired feet.  I
could feel myself slipping into another trance as I served him.  It
felt so wonderful to serve my husband, naked and on my knees.  It
seemed gloriously submissive.  As I finished his foot massage, he
finally spoke.
        Show me just how well you obey, Erica, he said in a
commanding tone.  Kiss my feet to show your respect for me.  Kiss my
feet, and acknowledge that you are my slave and my possession.
        His powerful will made me melt.  I could not resist the
command.  There was just no strength left in me.  My will was gone; I
was now an extension of him.  I kissed both of his feet obediently,
and licked his toes for good measure.  He looked down in approval.      
        After the foot massage, I served him a hearty dinner.  The
table was set for him only, to acknowledge the difference in our
status.  I had left a bell by his plate, so he could ring for me
whenever he needed me.  I took dinner in the kitchen, and listened
carefully for the bell.
        After dinner, I served him a glass of whiskey in the living
room.  I knelt on the floor, avoiding the furniture, again to
emphasize my subservient status.  We watched the news for awhile, and
after it was over I requested an audience.  He agreed, seeming to
like my choice of words, and gave me permission to stand.  I prepared
to present my proposal.
        Do you think we could make this body swap permanent?, I
asked humbly in a meek voice.  I looked down at my tiny feet in their
elegant high heels, not daring to look up at him.  I would like to
remain the woman  forever.  I promise that I will be everything that
you want me to be.  And more.  I will serve you always.
        Of course you can stay in that body permanently, Steve
replied.  I am going to enjoy living as a man.  And I am going to
enjoy watching you live out your life as a woman, particularly as the
feminine creature that you are now.  But I have some conditions for
making the body swap permanent.  You can only remain Erica if you
agree to my conditions.  Do you want to hear them?
        I do!, I answered eagerly.
        First, you will always obey me. Second, you must always look
beautiful and feminine.  In fact, never again in your life are you to
ever wear pants.  Third, you must bear as many children as I choose to
have. And finally, if you ever go back to work it must be a womans
job only.  You could be a beautician, nurse, or secretary.  Something
like that.  Do you agree to my conditions?
        Yes, I said breathlessly.  His conditions excited me.  They
were just what I wanted out of life.  It sounded perfect.
        So today was a red letter day.  I became Erica permanently.  I
have the body, the memories, the personality, and the identity.  I
know that life will be wonderful.
        After our talk, Steve made plans to have a party on the next
Saturday night.  He called about a dozen people from the phone in his
study, and then gave me instructions on preparation for the party.  It
appears that I will be serving the guests.  He was very mysterious
about the whole thing, but I bet I will enjoy myself.  It sounds like
it will be a fun party!
Saturday, November 29
Dear Diary,
        Tonights party is over now.  It was full of surprises, just
as the last weeks have been full of surprises.  I learned a lot about
what has happened to me in these past few weeks.  It turns out that
there was more going on than I knew.  In a nutshell, it seems that I
have been set-up.  You would think that I would be angry over what has
been done to me, but I am not.  I guess that I have just enjoyed it
too much.  But, as usual I am ahead of myself.  Let me go back to the
        I spent most of the day cleaning, cooking food, and preparing
hors doeuvres.  At 1:00 p.m., I got a phone call from Steve.  He told
me that my attire for the night was hanging in the closet in his
study.  He told me to put it on immediately, and explained that he
would inspect my appearance when he arrived home.  I went into the
study and opened the closet door, curious about what I would find.
Hanging there was a black French maids outfit, complete with a number
of accessories.  My mouth dropped open.  I would be waiting on all of
those people as a maid rather than a wife!  I flushed with
embarrassment.  Everyone would know that I was his little handmaind!
I reluctantly carried the clothes into the bedroom, in order to
prepare myself.
        Despite my embarrassment, I quickly got turned on.  In fact, I
shook with excitement as I donned the outfit.  I felt so submissive!
First came the black fishnet hose, attached to a garter belt.  Then
the dress itself.  The outfit had a square-cut front and short, puffed
sleeves.  The skirt was a mini, only coming to mid-thigh.  Then I
slipped on the petticoat, which made my little skirt stand out.  A
lace-trimmed, white apron tied around my waist, and a maids cap went
on my head.  Around my neck went a black choker.  Finally, I put on
the five inch black heels that Steve had left for me.  An ankle strap
tied held the heels on tightly, but they were extremely difficult to
walk in.  It required careful, delicate steps I added dangling gold
earrings and bangles on both arms.  Then I inspected myself in the
mirror.  I certainly did look like a maid.  I could not help but feel
subservient in this maids outfit, and I started to fall into a trance
again.  Wearing this outfit felt good; there was no way I could deny
it.  After all, serving was my place in life now!
        I continued cleaning and cooking for the rest of the
afternoon.  The maids outfit continued to hae the effect of
emphasizing my submissiveness, and I slipped deeper into that pleasant
trance.  Before Steve got home I touched up my make-up so I would look
just right.  I wanted to be the perfect little French maid.
        When Steve got home, he was obviously pleased with my
appearance and my preparations for his party.  The guests started
arriving at 7:00, but I was banished to the kitchen before anyone
showed up.  As I finished my food preparation, I could vaguely hear
the voices of our guests arriving in the living room.  Strangely
enough, I only heard the voices of women.  I heard no men except for
        At 7:30 Steve came into the kitchen and told me to start
serving wine and hors doeuvres.  I carried a tray fo wine glasses out
of the kitchen, toward the living room.  It was quite a struggle for
my weak little body to carry the tray gracefully, but I managed.  As I
emerged into the living room, I saw Steve and a dozen women seated
there.  All eyes were on me.  Twelve sets of eyes widened in amazement
when they saw me.  There was a feminine murmur around the room, and I
heard a few of the women say Oh my god!  And Can you believe it?
I recognized the
women in the room, and my head started spinning at the implications.
Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure as I offered drinks to the
ladies.  Then I fled the room, anxious to escape with the excuse of
getting more wine.
        Back in the kitchen I sat down and tried hard not to faint.
Those women were the members of the original Ericas coven of witches.
I remembered them all, since I now possesed Ericas memories.  I knew
one member of the coven particularly well.  Elaine, my younger sister,
was a member of the coven.  Seeing Elaine also reminded me of my
wedding dream, a dream that she had been a part of.
        If the coven was here with Steve, that meant that they knew
all about the body-swap.  They knew that I had been Steve and that
Steve had been me.  After all, they must have come to see their fellow
witch-turned-warlock.  And, more than likely, Steve was showing me off
to them.  He wanted them to see what a subservient wife I had become!
        I flushed with embarrassment.  I was totally exposed to this
group of women.  The last thing that I wanted to do was return to the
living room, but I did not dare defy Steve.  Picking up another tray
of wine glasses, I went back to the living room.  The women were
talking quietly with Steve, but they watched every more I made.  I was
unable to stop blushing, and I was shaking as well.  There was nothing
I could do, though, but play my role as maid.  I offered my tray of
wine glasses to the women who still needed wine, and returned to the
kitchen for the food.
        I spend the evening handing out hors doeuvres and refilling
wine glasses.  I doubt that I made the best of impressions.  I was too
embarrassed to look anyone in the eye.  Instead, I kept my eyes
averted in a submissive fashion.  Repeatedly, I found myself blushing.
Because I was so self-conscious, I tried to rein in my feminine
mannerisms.  I did not want these women to know just how feminine and
womanly I had become.  But my attempts to control myself failed
desperately.  The more I tried to restrain my femininity, the more
girlish I became.  My walk turned into a mince.  My hips swung freely
and my breasts jiggled rhythmically with each step.  My voice seemed
to go up in pitch even more.  I was completely unable to hide my
feminine nature.
        After I had served the party for well over an hour, Steve
began a meeting of the coven of witches.  I was instructed to stand in
the middle of the room, where all the witches could continue to look
me over.  I flushed red with shame, but did as I was told.  What
choice did I have?
        Steve called the meeting to order, then began a lengthy
speech, This is an historic meeting of our little coven.  I have
accomplished something with my magical powers that has not been done
in centuries.  Soon, you will each have the opportunity to work the
same magic that I have worked.  I will help each and every one of you
obtain the kind of power that I noew have.  Then together we will
change the world.
        I am going to start with a brief summary of this little
miracle.  A few of you already know all the details, but most of you
know only the basics.  This story will fill in the gaps for you.  Even
Erica is going to learn a few new things.
        As you know, the woman standing in front of you used to be a
man.  His name was Steve, and you all knew him.  He occupied the body
that I now own.  I was Erica, your female friend, leader of this
coven, and also the wife of Steve.  Not long ago, I discovered a spell
in an old tome of magic about switching bodies with a member of the
opposite sex.  The spell fascinated me, and I could immediately see
the opportunity it offered.  I was able to convince Steve to let me
use the spell to temporarily swap our bodies.  He did not really like
the idea, but he finally agreed to live in Ericas body for a few days
while I spent the time in his body.  He did not know that I intended
for the body swap to be permanent.  He had no idea that he was being
        You see the spell did more than just swap our bodies.  As
Steve left his body, his life essence was stripped of all it
masculinity.  Every bit of maleness was taken from his helpless spirit
and given to me.  At the same time my femininity was transferred to
him.  The spell then bound us each to our new bodies, so that the body
swap would be almost impossible to reverse.  Once the spell was over,
Steve had been completely transformed into a woman.  He was now a she
named Erica.  I, of course, was now Steve in all ways.  I then
convinced the new Erica that she had only temporarily acquired Ericas
female personality.  She believed that her femininity was merely due
to the feminine memories stored in Ericas brain.
        Only later did she realize that she was far more feminine
than the original Erica.  By then I think it was too late for her to
escape the spell, if escape was ever possible.  You see, I have
created a unique creature with this new Erica.  Up until now, all men
and women have contained a mixture of masculine and feminine elements.
In men, masculinity predominates but there are feminine elements.  In
women femininity predominates, but minor masculine characteristics are
present.  Well, the new Erica is pure femininity.  She has no
masculine qualities left, thanks to my spell.  She carries all the
femininity that the original Erica had plus the feminine elements of
the original Steve.  Likewise, I now carry all of the masculine
qualities that both Steve and Erica had.  We are the first of a new
breed of men and women.
        It quickly became apparent that my spell had succeeded
completely.  The new Erica was overcome with the joys of femininity.
She reveled in femininity.  Before I knew it, she had permed her hair
and obtained a complete make-over.  She absolutely loved wearing
dresses, and started complaining about wearing pants.  She was utterly
submissive, and could not restrain her female sexuality.  The longer
she stayed in the body, the more feminine she acted.  Later, I was
able to create a magical dream of a wedding.  In that dream she took a
mystical vow to accept her newfound femininity.  She did not fully
realize that implications of her vow; once she made it she had no
chance of ever regaining her former manhood.  During the same dream, I
was able to regress her in age back to nineteen-years old.  This made
her even more pliable and controllable.  It made her sexier as well,
which is something the man in me can now appreciate.  The final step
of the spell gave her Ericas memories and her total identity, except
for Ericas knowledge of witchcraft.  (I have kept the knowledge of
magic for obvious reasons.)  She has become Erica so completely that
she would fight switching back to Steve.  Even what I have just told
her, in your presence, will not change her desire to remain Erica.
He turned to me.  Arent I right, dear?
        My head was spinning.  This had been a trap all along!  I
burned with humiliation, but I was not angry.  As embarrassing as this
situation was, I could not get mad.  I knew that he was right.  I did
not want to go back to being Steve, despite what I now knew.  Yes,
dear, I said.  I want to remain Erica.
        And why do you want to remain Erica?, he asked.
        Because I am a woman, I answered shyly.  My place is to
serve you, and I like that.  Even though I was telling the truth, I
wanted to crawl into a corner and hide.  Revealing this was
humiliating.  The group of women murmured in amazement.
        You see?, Steve said.  I have her right where I want her.
How many of you would like to rob your husband of his manhood and turn
him into your subservient wife?  How many of you would like to command
the kind of power I now have?  Wouldnt you like to hear your husband
meekly submit to your rule as Erica has submitted to me?
        The group replied with a chorus of assents.  I realized that I
was the first in what might become a long line of turnabout women.
        We will be a new breed of men, asserted Steve.  We are
willing to take the masculine power we want and make it ours.  We will
be incredibly strong because of our magical skills and our total
command of masculine power.  No one will be able to stand against us.
And we will create a new breed of women, who have been stripped their
masculine strength and then trapped in a life of total femininity!  A
cheer erupted from the room.  The women loved it!
        One of the women stood enthusiastically, and approached the
place where I was standing in the middle of the room.  I recognized
her as Victoria, and remembered that she was the only lesbian in the
coven. She circled me and eyed my body hungrily.  Victoria is a tall,
athletic-looking woman, with jet black hair and sexy, Italian
features.  Her lusty attention stirred my own sexual instincts, and I
struck a more daring pose.
        This is one fine young lady you have created here, she said.
She really turns me on.  I cant remember the last time I have wanted
anyone so much.  Will you loan her to me tomorrow night, big guy?  I
could ride her all night long!
        Sure you can Victoria.  I believe in sharing with my friends.
And let me tell you, she is a hot one to screw!, Steve replied
        I swallowed visibly.  Now that I was Steves property, he
could share me with anyone!  And tomorrow night he was going to share
me with another woman!  My discomfort at the thought of having sex
with another woman was offset by a sense of excitement.  Being taken
by this woman would be a turn-on.  I no longer remembered having sex
with women as Steve, but I knew that this would be very different.
This woman wanted me for my soft, shapely body, and my hot love-mound.
She did not want a man.  She would make me hers for the night, and I
would yield to her.
        Victoria turned toward Steve and went on with excitement, I
want to be one of the first ones to get a new body.  Then I can go out
and pick up all the straight babes I can find.  The only problem is
going to be finding a man to switch with.  I obviously dont have a
husband like the rest of you.
        Dont you worry about that, said Steve. We will figure
something out, and before you know it you will be a man, too.  Then
you and I can go and pick up babes together, while Erica waits at
home for me.  Steve and the women all laughed.  One more thing,
before we get back to the festivities.  I want to make sure that one
doubts my total control over Erica.  Erica, dear,   undress for us.  I
want you to be naked tonight as you serve us.  That way, all of us can
admire your body.  And Victoria can get very, very horny.
        I blanched white, but immediately started undressing.  I knew
that I had no choice.

Just the Beginning!



©2001-2018 julijana