Facing the Truth

It never failed. Even though he’d had his ‘welcome home’ fuck scarcely two hours ago, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself when presented this lovely body on a silver platter. Even though we’d gone at it so recently I wanted more, always more, and I had slipped into something a little special, being sure to expose these legs that he so adored. It took a grand total of six seconds from the time he spotted me to the time he’d thrown me onto the kitchen table.

He loved these legs, and this pussy, and staring deeply into these eyes, but none of them were mine – not originally, at least. Three weeks ago, the Great Shift occurred. I had been in bed at the time, dozing off, when suddenly I had been swimming in wonderful sensations. I had gone from dozing off on my back, alone, to the verge of orgasm laying on my stomach with a partner behind me. I clutched the pillows in front of me, already cresting the summit of ecstasy and moaning uncontrollably, but the voice escaping my lips was too soft, too feminine, to be mine. How was it that I’d had sexual contact lying on my stomach, anyway, with the person behind me? I found my answer very quickly as the manly grunts of my partner I’d failed to register in the height of my ecstasy ended, and something withdrew from between my legs.

“That was great babe,” said the male voice, and I could feel, now, the weights on my chest, and the long hair about my face, and the void left between my legs, an ache totally alien to me. It was the oddest dream, I’d thought, and I’d rolled onto my back before drifting to sleep, deciding against even looking at this person.

In the morning I felt something alien, though wonderful, again. It was wet, moving around at my crotch, and at first I thought it was a blowjob since I could feel the thing touching my sensitive bits was definitely a tongue. What that tongue was touching could not have possibly been a cock, though, and my body’s response was not to stiffen as what could only be my clit was getting a lashing. Instead, I was getting hotter, wetter. “About time, sleepyhead,” my mystery partner had said before climbing on top of me. Before I could mount anything resembling a protest, he had mounted me, and whatever protest was coming from my lips was washed away by the moans that overcame me. I liked it. I really liked it. Without another word, I let him fuck me, ignoring everything but the pleasure he was giving to me in waves. When he was done, he pulled out of me, took off his condom, and said, “Judith, I wish you’d at least give birth control some thought.”

Not knowing what to do, I just played along, smiling what must have been a nervous smile and said, “I will.” He rolled his eyes, and proceeded to get ready and go to work. Obviously there was some strain there, and he left without saying another word to me. With time alone, I’d turned on the TV, and it wasn’t long before the news gave notice of the Great Shift, explaining what had happened to me. I considered going ahead and getting my old life back, reclaiming my identity as a thirty-something male, but I couldn’t dial the number.

I had been… taken, as a woman. And I had liked it. And after masturbating to the thought of the night before and that morning, I quickly decided that I wanted to continue getting taken, and throwing questionable gender identity into the mix would get in the way of that. So I played along, and decided that unless Judith suddenly popped up, I was Judith. I found that I was married to the guy, which shocked me considering the condom situation. I wasn’t sure what her deal was, but I went to the gynecologist, got some birth control pills and started taking them, knowing it would make him happy, and therefore more willing to fuck me.

Along with taking the pills for him, I also did my best to be a good housewife. I cooked and cleaned for him and did my best to make sure that when he came home, he had nothing to worry about, and gave him all of the sex he could handle. I had felt guilt, taking Judith’s life and her man, but I was absolutely addicted. And the difference between getting fucked with a condom and getting fucked raw… it just made my need that much stronger.

It’s paid off. We have sex several times a day, and… mmnnggghhh… his cock inside of me now is the payout for all of the little things I do for him. Our kiss has just broken, and he’s doing that thing where he stares into my eyes. It drives me wild, totally affirming that I am very into a male partner now. Then he says, “I know you’re not Judith.”

Fuck! Me! Damn him. Weeks of fueling this addiction and he’s pulling this now? “I…” I try to say, but he stops me with an immediate and firm, “Shut up.”

He’s looking into my eyes. He’s not angry. I think. Then he talks again. “I don’t care who you were. Judith was… I’m not sure how we got married, or why we were even still married. I think it was just because of the sex. But you… you don’t make my life hell; in fact, you do everything you can to make me happy. I think you actually love me. So, if you want to be my wife… then just say only that you are my wife, Judy.”

Love? I don’t know if it’s that. What I do know is that he has me on this table, I’m heated up with his cock buried to the hilt inside of me, and people say dumb things when in a lover’s embrace like this. Judith, Judy, Jude, Clarice, Sarah, he can call me whatever he wants. My body, my hormones are out of control and I can’t stand it. “I’m Judy,” I said, my voice cracking, and tears flowing. Damn, I can’t pull myself together at all, and the tears are just streaming down my face. This can’t look sexy. I gather myself as best I can, but the words come blubbering their way out through my sobs, “I’m Judy, I’m your wife, and I love you.”

Not sure what made me say those last three words, but I don’t have time to contemplate it as he embraces me in the most manly way he ever has, kissing me fiercely. It’s a surprise. I can see how he’d be so willing to fuck me when I’m all dolled up for him, but blubbering like this? Though I can’t complain because my body is just melting in his arms and… unh… he’s fucking me, so sex is on the table again, literally. I smile at my internal pun, despite my sobbing, which he has clearly mistaken for romantic bliss given his smile in return. I am in bliss, though, so close enough. Figuring out the love thing will have to wait, because thinking is not something I can do right now <3


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