Cursed Gender Swap

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MAILING LIST AND MORE

  FREE BONUS STORY

  SUMMERTIME GENDER SWAP

  Gal Horne

  This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the copyright holder. This story contains explicit content that is intended for adult audiences only. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 years of age or older. Copyright © 2018 Gal Horne. All rights reserved. Cover Image © Antonoparin Megapixl

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you throw like a girl.’

  It was true. Throwing had never been my strong point.

  ‘That’s a very old-fashioned attitude, George. There are lots of girls who throw way better than me. I don’t throw like a girl, I just throw like someone who can’t throw.’

  ‘Whatever, Hank, let me show you how it’s done.’ George, my best friend, reached into the basket of baseballs in front of us, and plucked out a worn old ball.

  George and I have a tradition. Whenever the funfair comes to town, we always head there late on the first night. Ever since we were kids we’d done it. I remember the first time we ever came to the funfair, actually. It was one of the first activities I ever remember doing without parental supervision. Just me and George, under the moonlight, checking out weird sideshows and chucking balls at coconuts. We weren’t kids anymore though, but we kept going back, every single year.

  I watched George as he lifted the baseball back behind his head and prepared to throw. Yep, he definitely wasn’t a kid anymore. We were both the same age, twenty-two. George was very, very tall, six foot three. I knew because I’d measured him just a couple of months ago. He likes to have all of his vital statistics up to date - he’s got like this insanely detailed spreadsheet on his computer with information on his weight, height, arm circumference - you name it. George’s long, toned arm described a graceful arc through the air. He released the ball at the apex of the arc, snapping his wrist down. The ball flew through the air, spinning furiously, and collided at high speed with the smallest target on the back wall of the stall.

  ‘Congratulations!’ The attendant of the stall, a dark-haired lady with striking features and bright red lips, was visibly impressed by George’s throw. ‘That’s the first time today that anyone’s managed to hit the target.’

  ‘Booya!’ George cried out, pumping his fist in the air. ‘That’s how you do it, Hank, that’s how you fucking do it!’ He started chanting. ‘Number one! Number one!’

  You’d be hard-pushed to believe it, but George was actually one of the smartest people that I know. He’s a scientist for goodness sake, a microbiologist. George has more degrees than most people have had hot dinners. But we have this kind of long-running joke. We like to act like idiots in public. I think it’s because we’re both into working out so much (I’m a fitness model, and George is a total gym-bunny). People take one look at us and assume that we’re a bunch of meat-head, brain-dead jocks. But little do they know, only one of us is. OK, so I’m not a total meat-head, but I definitely am compared to George.

  ‘So what do we win?’ I asked the attendant.

  ‘Woah, woah, woah,’ butted in George, before she could answer, ‘don’t get excited. We didn’t win anything. I won the prize.’

  The attendant gave George a disbelieving look. I could tell that she was trying to work out if this guy was for real.

  ‘OK, well, you’ve actually won a pretty incredible prize.’ She reached behind the counter and pulled out a small silver envelope.

  ‘Oh this is so dope,’ said George. We usually won something when we came to the carnival, but I couldn’t remember us ever winning the top prize in anything. Normally at the carnival, things were kinda rigged against you so that you couldn’t win much of any value. You know the kind of thing - coconuts stuck to their stands with superglue, posts in the ring toss game covered in grease. It was a serious shock that this stand was giving us the top prize at all.

  ‘This prize is worth around thirty bucks, so you’ve done very well to snag it.’ She walked closer to us and as she did, I noticed her beauty even more clearly. In fact I don’t know that I’d ever seen a more gorgeous looking carnival worker in my life. She was quite short - petite I guess would be the word - and she was curvaceous. She was wearing these tiny little denim hotpants, as well as tiny white vest top that didn’t do much to hide the heave of her perky tits. The white fabric contrasted beautifully with her tanned limbs, and her piercing brown eyes were rimmed by thick, dark lashes which flicked like butterfly wings as she blinked.

  ‘What is it?’ George asked, almost breathlessly.

  ‘It’s a coupon!’ A beautiful smile spread across her face, lighting up her features like the summer sun.

  George was less than impressed.

  ‘A coupon? What the fuck? You’re giving us a money-off voucher for some carnie garbage?’

  Her features hardened for a moment.

  ‘Hey, that’s offensive - there’s no garbage on offer here, it’s all quality stuff. And this isn’t for anything physical, either, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to change the course of your existence.’

  Change the course of your existence? That sounded like one hell of a coupon.

  ‘I seriously doubt that a fair ground coupon is going to change the course of our existence,’ said George with a derisory snort.

  ‘Think again,’ said the attendant. She held out the silvery envelope to George. ‘Here’s your prize, shooter.’

  ‘You take it, Hank, tell me what it says.’

  I grabbed the envelope from between her slender fingers and ripped it open. The paper was very good quality, it felt coarse and solid in my hand. I emptied its contents into my palm. An off-white certificate. I held it up to my eyes and read.

  ‘A coupon for one fortune at Madame Tulisa’s hut.’

  ‘Fortune telling?’ George said. ‘All I get is a fucking fortune? That’s not worth thirty bucks!’

  A mysterious expression spread across the attendant’s face. ‘But it’s not a normal fortune,’ she said, ‘this is a reading of your soul. Tulisa will look into your eyes and see into your heart. She will help you to change your future, help you to align the person you are with the person you will become. She has a rare gift.’

  ‘A rare gift?’ I asked, in disbelief. ‘Come on, we all know that fortune telling is just cold reading and trickery.’

  ‘Not this fortune telling,’ she replied, with a deadly seriousness. ‘I’m telling you, from personal experience, that she can change your life. You could say that I’m one of her most zealous converts. I was like you,’ she said, pointing at me, ‘in fact, I was exactly like you, until I met with her. I thought there’s no way that a fortune-telling would be of any use to me. Then I met with Tulisa. She’s an interesting person, let me tell you. I sat in her tent, and she looked in my eyes and I just knew that she was the real deal. And then, everything changed.’

  As I listened to the attendant speak, I was surprised to say that I found myself believing her. Maybe it was just because I’ve always had a very soft spot for attractive women. And I don’t just mean that I’m attracted to them. I just feel as though they have this incredible power over me, and over men in general. It’s a power I’ve always been jealous of, to be honest.

  George, on the other hand, looked less than impressed.

  ‘Pah, not interested!’ he snorted, ‘give me the second prize, I don’t want the crappy coupon. A fucking cuddly toy will be just –’

  I cut him off. ‘No man, wait, I’ll take the fortune telling. Go on, let me have it, I think it would be fun. I’ll buy you a beer to make up for you losing the prize.’

  ‘Ugh,’ George replied, ‘fine, if you want your fortune told, you can have it. You don’t just throw like a girl, you act like one sometimes.’

  You know what, I didn’t mind when George said stuff like this, because in truth, I think I have always felt an unusual affinity for women. And like I said before, not just the typical alpha-guy, super-butch attraction that most guys mean when they say they love women. No, I mean that I’ve always felt as though there was something girly inside me. Like, when I was a teenager, I was fascinated by makeup. Now, I know guys wear makeup, too, and I know that makeup isn’t a defining female characteristic – plenty of women don’t even wear makeup, too. I’ve never told anyone this of course, but I once bought some eye-shadow, some lipstick. I must have been about fourteen at the time. I locked the bathroom door, and slowly experimented with the colors, making my face beautiful. When I was finished, I looked transformed. But I felt so ashamed that I scrubbed my face and threw the makeup away and never did it again.

  I’ve fantasized about wearing women’s clothing. I’ve fantasized about kissing men. But I’ve never acted on any of those fantasies. And I when I imagine them for too long, spend too long in that strange, sexy, disgusting place, I recoil, because at the end of the day, I’m not a woman, I’m a man.

  ‘You know what,’ I said to George, ‘coming from you, I’m going to take that as a compliment.’ I pocketed the ticket. ‘OK,’ I said, turning towards the attendant again, ‘where’s this Tulisa’s tent then?’

  ‘What am I going to do?
’ said George. ‘We were gonna go ride the big dipper!’

  ‘You go ride it,’ I replied, ‘in fact, why don’t you ride it twice, once for me.’

  He nodded, clearly annoyed, but happy maybe to have some time on a roller-coaster by himself for once.

  The attendant smiled again, a wicked, red crescent. ‘Follow me,’ she said. She turned towards an alley, and I followed her into my future.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The carnival was large and sprawling. I followed the attendant through the crowded alleyways, past all manner of lurid stalls. The atmosphere was electric - the first night of a carnival always was. The bright lights of the stalls and the excited chattering of the crowds gave the place a bustling energy that was so specific to carnivals, you didn’t get it anywhere else.

  ‘So how long have you worked at the carnival?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh not so long,’ said the attendant. She looked back and gave me a wink. ‘My life’s changed quite a lot in the last few years. In fact, before I had my fortune told by Tulisa two years ago, I worked as a laborer. You know, a building contractor.’

  ‘You don’t really strike me as a builder!’ I said. My surprise must have been obvious, because the attendant let out a cheeky giggle.

  ‘Well I’m glad, to be honest.’ She stopped in the middle of the path and took me over to the side. ‘Look, can you keep a secret?’

  I wondered what had prompted her to feel as though I might be worth telling a secret to. Now that I was so close to her, I was even more surprised by her beauty. It was totally effortless, or it seemed as though it was to me. She had smooth, silky skin, warm brown eyes. Her cheekbones were high and clearly defined. She was one of those incredible feminine beauties that you feel as though you only see a few times in your life.

  ‘I can keep a secret,’ I replied, almost breathlessly.

  ‘I used to be a man.’

  ‘Really?’ I tried not to seem surprised, but honestly I was. I looked at her features, trying to see any tell-tale sign of masculinity. There were none. Her face was so incredibly soft and gentle, with no harsh lines. There was certainly no stubble or coarseness in her skin. ‘You certainly look very feminine now.’

  ‘Well thank you,’ she said, giving me an embarrassed flick of a smile. ‘Anyway, let’s keep moving. There’s sometimes a long line for her readings. She’s a very popular attraction.’

  She skipped ahead of me, and I couldn’t help but watch the outline of her body, paying particular attention to the shape of her buttocks, as her elegant steps propelled her forward. There was nothing manly at all about her, and in fact, the more I watched, the more I found it hard to believe she’d ever been a man.

  We walked only for about five minutes, but it felt like a whole longer. I felt as though I was taking everything in in such incredible detail for some reason. There was something momentous about the walk, but I couldn’t explain why. The smell of smoke and roasting food wafted around, as the evening got darker and darker.

  We arrived at a really old-fashioned looking tent, kinda like a circus big top, but way, way smaller. It was made from deep purple fabric that hung in heavy drapes from a central post. The entrance reminded me of the way into a deep, dark cave. It was an arch in the drapery and the inside was just pitch black. ‘Mystic Tulisa’ was written above the entranceway in shimmering, curly golden letters. The text seemed to shine in the dim light of candles which burned a few feet below.

  ‘Well this looks dramatic,’ I said.

  My guide laughed. ‘I definitely agree,’ she said. ‘Now, I hope you have a wonderful time, and that your fortune is as life-changing as mine was. Good luck.’ She turned, and walked away.

  I wondered what George would be doing right now. I guess he’d maybe still be riding the roller-coaster in the middle of the park. It was a shame that he wasn’t going to get to see this weird thing that was about to happen to me, but I guess he wasn’t interested in it at all. It’s just the first time we’d ever done anything by ourselves in a carnival in quite a long time. Ugh, I was thinking so sentimentally again. Just like a girl, as George might say.

  Luckily, there was no one waiting outside the tent. Maybe the queue was inside. Although I have to admit, I find the idea of people queuing up to have their fortune told to be pretty ridiculous.

  I stepped forward into the shadow of the tent.

  Inside was a small entranceway inside, with a little reception area. There was a counter and someone sitting behind it - a strange, short guy with a bald head and a large golden hooped earring in each ear. He was wearing old timey clothes, a shaggy leather jerkin with a puffy linen shirt underneath. There was something creepy about the way he was smiling at me, with large white teeth gleaming in the candlelight.

  ‘Good evening sir,’ he said. ‘Here to enjoy the wisdom of madam Tulisa?’ He had a strange accent. It was hard to place, like, something European sounding.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, ‘I’ve got this coupon.’

  I held out the piece of paper towards him and he took it greedily.

  ‘Excellent, excellent. I can see that you’ve got a premium ticket. This entitles you to half an hour of one on one time with our wise woman. What a lucky gentleman, what a lucky, lucky gentleman.’ He let out a creepy chuckle.

  ‘Sounds good,’ I said.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he replied, ‘it should be very, very good indeed.’ He paused for just a moment. ‘Well, good sir, head through whenever you’re ready.’ He gestured towards another fabric curtain.

  ‘I just go through?’ I asked. He nodded in response. I don’t know why, but I was suddenly reticent. I could feel my heart thumping away in my chest as the adrenaline in my bloodstream spiked.

  I pushed the curtains aside, feeling the velvety softness on my fingertips. Through the door was a dark room. In the center was a round table, covered in red velvet cloths. On top was a large crystal ball, just like the kind of things you’ve seen a thousand times in old cartoons and TV shows. It was clear and large and reflected the candlelight in gentle flickers around the circular space. Sitting at the table was a woman in blood red robes. Her skin was pale and her hair as black as midnight.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, a little unsure of what I was meant to do.

  ‘Welcome,’ the lady replied. ‘I’m Lady Tulisa, medium of the carnival.’

  ‘I’m Hank,’ I replied, a little meekly.

  She rose from her seat and I saw to my surprise, that her robes were actually pretty darn revealing. I could see the deep plunge of her cleavage, her snow white skin softly curved into generous mounds. Her neck, her clavicles, all clearly on display. The robe was fastened around her waist, but I could see almost all the way down to her belly-button.

  ‘Pleased to meet you Hank,’ she said, giving me an enigmatic smile. ‘Why don’t you take a seat, get comfortable, and we’ll begin our reading.

  I was struggling to take my eyes off her incredible body, and I felt a spike of lust in my crotch. This is seriously embarrassing, I thought to myself. It’d been years since a girl gave me a hard-on just by looking at her. I felt relieved to sit down, if anything, just so that I could hide my physical arousal from her.

  The chair was comfortable, the upholstery was soft but supportive.

  ‘Have you ever had a reading before?’ she asked. She sat down herself, and leaned across the table. This motion pushed her breasts together, emphasizing their satisfying curves.

  That’s another thing. I feel like, no matter how physically fit a guy is, there’s no way that he could ever just stop a woman in her tracks just because of his body. This woman, madam Tulisa, would cause traffic accidents if she walked the streets in this outfit. There would be a trail of destruction behind her as slack-jawed men crashed into each other, trying to get a good look down her top.

  ‘Um no,’ I replied, ‘I’ve never had a reading. Not something I’ve ever been that into, to be honest. Always kinda thought that psychics were frauds.’

  ‘Oh well,’ she replied, ‘for the most part, they are of course. There are thousands of charlatans out there, just hungry for money and greedy for power.’

  ‘But you’re different?’ I asked.