The Pebble - a Sequel

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The Pebble - a Sequel

By Janet Harris 2001

If you remember, I found a magic pebble which enabled my wife Amanda and I to swap bodies when our souls passed through the hole in it.

We used it to be each other for several glorious weekends until its power just faded away. We tried all sorts of things to revive it and then gave up and put it away.

About six months later, we were making love when Amanda suddenly had a fresh idea. She was on top and, after penetration, as we often did in memory of the pebble experience, she put her knees back over mine, easing my legs apart so that I could pretend to be the female part of a "missionary" coupling with my knees high and wide, while she did all the pelvic thrusting. She dangled her breasts over my chest so that her ripe nipples tickled my diminutive male ones and I could pretend that they were aroused like hers. Of course the pretence was a hopeless shadow of the excitement we had found in the stark reality of the pebble's magic.

"Hey, d'you know what?" Amanda suddenly cried. "Maybe the pebble needs to be charged with sexual energy. I mean, I don't think we could make love through it..." "You're telling me!" I retorted, "or at least you could be the man to get stuck in it, if you like!"

She leapt out of bed, leaving me quite unsatisfied, and dived to the bottom drawer to get out the pebble.

"Perhaps we could kiss, or at least touch tongues through there," she suggested as she brought it back to me. After several attempts to overcome our giggles, we did manage to roll and point our tongues enough to feel each other's tip through the hole, but nothing happened. Amanda rolled onto her back and placed the pebble on her belly.

"Let's try just having it near when we cum," she suggested. I eagerly climbed onto her and resumed our earlier position, in reverse. I found the presence of the cold stone pressing into my belly very exciting as a reminder of my experiences as Amanda, so I came far too quickly.

"No," she complained with pronounced disappointment. "I think we'll have to cum together for it to work." As soon as I could, we tried again, but this time Amanda was moaning and thrashing about before I was anywhere near climax, so we put it away again for another night.

The very next evening, as soon as Amanda mentioned an early night, we grinned at each other, knowing that the pebble was high in both our priorities and we couldn't wait till after supper to go to bed.

"Let's do the pretend position this time," she suggested, "and maybe it'll become real."

This time I put the stone on my belly before she straddled me and lowered her eager cunt onto my erection. Then we squeezed it between our bellies as we manoeuvred into the reverse missionary, by which time her breathing was becoming tense and irregular. She started fucking me hard and fast so that my excitement grew too. Suddenly we were both gasping and moaning with intense pleasure, but through it there came a new sensation from our bellies which rapidly emerged as the pain of burning. We both grabbed at the stone to remove it, from opposite sides, so that for a moment we struggled against each other as it burned us more, but I prevailed and slung it away from us across the bed.

Amanda climbed off me and walked around the bed to examine it. She licked her finger before touching it as if testing a hot iron but it didn't hiss so she stroked it carefully.

"Ah, we've definitely recharged it" she said, "but its not too hot now. Come on."

She poked her finger into the hole and so did I from the other side. Suddenly, without any flash or shock or even a drumroll, I was standing by the bed looking down at the new Tom.

He grabbed his now flaccid cock saying, "Hello, Mr Willy, it's good to have you back!"

This made me feel the loss of it, so I cupped my new breasts in my hands. I had forgotten already that I would feel the pressure on my sensitive tits more than the weight in my hands, so I grinned back at him in delight.

"Come back here, Amanda," he demanded, "now that we don't have to pretend any more."

I was passing my thumbs gently over my huge nipples, and they felt too sore for more sex, as did my throbbing, drooling fanny.

"No,", I decided, "I want a shower now, then I'm going to dress up and you're taking me out to dinner."

"Aw shucks! Just let me wash Mr. Willy in the basin first, then."

I was also glad to be back in a lovely female body, but I found it a bit annoying to have to keep sweeping my hair off my face. The bobbed style I had chosen had been grown out so that the remains of the fringe were chin-length and the back was just below my shoulders. I would have to hold it aside with grips. I avoided getting it wet in the shower, then chose the green velvet minidress I had worn on my first evening as Amanda.

I found Tom putting on the green shirt and yellow tie which Amanda had bought him recently and which he (I) hadn't liked to wear. On the pretext that it would clash with my dress, I insisted, just as Amanda would, that he wear an open-neck shirt under a jumper of my choosing. It was now midwinter, of course, and I knew my nylon-clad legs would be bitterly cold outside, but I would wear my long fur-edged coat and it would be worth it to show them off.

I had fixed my hair, put on a nice necklace and was fitting my ear-rings when the doorbell rang. Tom was back in the bathroom brushing his teeth so I went down to answer it. As I minced across the hall in my heels towards our front door, I told myself that I was only the normal Amanda to anyone else. I swung open the door to find myself facing my, or rather Tom's parents!

Through my shocked daze, I remembered that they'd said they might just drop in tonight on their way back from seeing Granny. With a further shock, I realised that she was no longer my Granny, but Tom's, and this really brought home to me that not a drop of my blood was related to the couple in front of me. I had to accept that I was their daughter-in-law now, not their son.

I asked them in for a cup of tea and thankfully they noticed that I was dressed up to go out. Although they came in, they declined my offer and would not sit down. I noticed that my Dad, or rather father-in-law, could not keep his eyes of my legs, which made me very self-conscious of the awfully high hem of my dress, but I was surprised to find myself quite pleased at this.

When Tom came down to see who our visitors were, a look of absolute horror flashed over his face, and I hoped I had not been so obvious outside. He hugged them both and I was glad to see that they accepted him, though worried that his sidelong glances at me over their shoulders might give him away. I looked forward to meeting my own parents. It would be interesting to be a daughter. When they'd gone, Tom asked me if I'd felt jealous because he was now their son, but I said no. It all seemed so natural being just their daughter-in-law.

Driving to the restaurant and being shown to our table, we found that our reversed roles came back to us easily from our experiences in the summer. We found that we both wanted to try a longer swap, for which we would have to learn each other's jobs. This was Wednesday night, so we decided to swap back just for work on Thursday and Friday, then spend the weekend in thorough briefings for a full-time exchange next week. Tom started quizzing me about his workmates and methods during the meal until I got a little annoyed, so he changed the subject to something further ahead - starting a family.

"Hey now, hang on a minute!", I cried. "If you want to stay like this just so that you don't have to go through childbirth, you've got another think coming! You weren't so keen on children when you were in this skin."

"Well that's because it would interrupt my teaching career."

"But it's my career now. If you want me to take a break, you'll have to get a better job to keep me in the manner to which I intend to become accustomed."

As soon as I had said that, I wondered why I had. I mean, I had almost offered to bear our children! I found myself quite excited at the prospect. My nipples even began to tingle at the thought of breast-feeding. Also, I had caught myself assuming that we would change over for ever after work on Friday and actually wanting to do that. I shuddered to think how easily I could slip into my new role as Amanda. I wanted to consider it again while I was male, tomorrow.

"If we do keep doing this, and it's a big IF", I said, "I think we ought to take turns during pregnancy and, of course, labour. That'd be good, wouldn't it?"

"So you do want kids soon!" he exclaimed.

"Maybe, just maybe", I replied. "So I'm not coming off the pill for a week or two yet."

"Oh, that reminds me,", he said. "You're due on around the end of next week, but you shouldn't hit the PMT until at least Tuesday, so you can get settled in at work first."

That really brought home to me the reality of womanhood, but it didn't upset me. Now that I was wholly and entirely Amanda, it seemed perfectly natural to have periods. I realised that in two short hours I had quite forgotten about the novelty of having a bra round my chest and the hem of my dress around my nylon-clad thighs. I was able to think ahead about teaching and having babies and look my husband in the eye as I talked to him.

When we got home, I still fended off his approaches for sex. I really didn't feel at all randy. I wanted to relish other aspects of the change, and in any case, I had taken over a fully satiated body. I had a good soak in the bath, where I played a little with my body but didn't really get anywhere, then snuggled into bed alone in my best satin nightie while Tom had his bath. He woke me in the morning bringing a tray of breakfast with the pebble on it.

As soon as we put our fingers into it, I was standing up, fully dressed, shaved and breakfasted as Tom. I kissed my restored wife goodbye and drove to work. I had viewed my female workmates in a different light since my experiences as a female myself in the summer. Now it was different again and I felt like I was working my notice to finish at the end of the week. I noted many things carefully in my desk diary for the use of the new Tom next week and began studying my relationships with my workmates for his benefit. Actually, that bit was quite fascinating, I had never been so objective before. I knew Amanda would be doing the same thing for me at her school.

I got home before Amanda and found myself keen to return to that female body as soon as possible. I got out the stone and as soon as I heard her key in the door I went and met her with it. She seemed surprised at my eagerness, but grinned and stuck out her finger. Immediately I was facing into the house, feeling a bra around my chest again, under my blouse, a long skirt around my legs and hair down my cheeks onto my shoulders. I was surprised how heavy was her (sorry, my) briefcase.

The new Tom took it from me and explained that it was full of my students' work assignments, which he would help me to mark this evening. That would be the best way of learning their names and how they each worked. He ordered pizzas so that we wouldn't have to cook tonight. I was amazed that I loved him to be masterful.

I settled down at my desk for a hard evening's work with Tom at my elbow showing me how to mark the books while teaching me the rudiments of biology. When the pizzas arrived, I felt I deserved a change, so I told him to get out his desk-diary, and I went over the notes I had made in it with him.

It was clear to us both that his task was much less than mine, so after less than an hour briefing him, we returned to my marking. There were books from most of the students of two of the five classes I would be teaching, all over 30 pupils each, so there were a lot of names to memorize.

When the marking was done, I had to get out my timetable and he explained which periods I had to teach and who I would meet in the staff-room at various times. Of course, until he told me anything, I had no memories of my teaching work, but I had Amanda's brain and it worked in predictable ways on the information I was receiving, so that I was finishing his sentences. As Tom, I had always been terrible at remembering names, but now I could reel off the lists I had learned with ease. After I passed a difficult quiz with flying colours, he said:

"You know, Friday would be a much easier day to start on than Monday. Do you think you could cope tomorrow?"

Now I felt I ought to be shocked. I had been expecting another day at the factory as Tom, but I didn't really mind giving that up. I felt quite well prepared by the thorough briefing, and he was right. Friday would be much easier than Monday because I had only two teaching periods to give.

"Yes, OK" I found myself saying. "Actually I can't wait to get my teeth into my new job."

So, I committed myself to stay female for the foreseeable future. By now it was quite late. We agreed we were both too tired for sex tonight, too, so after quick showers we collapsed into bed and fell easily asleep.

When Tom woke me with my breakfast, the pebble was conspicuous by its absence from the tray. He kissed me fondly goodbye, but it wasn't till I heard his car going off down the road that I began to panic. I wanted to ring the school secretary and call off sick, but I made myself get my teaching clothes on. They seemed awfully plain, almost frumpy to me now, as they had to me before, as Tom. I planned to wear shorter skirts and brighter colours in future, but then I thought maybe it was wise to dress down in front of the pubescent youths in my classes.

Arriving at school, I found the first gap in my briefing: where to park. The staff car park was less than half full because I was early, not wanting to be late on "my" first day. I guessed that everyone had their favourite slot, like at Tom's factory, and I didn't want to upset someone. The slot where my car had been on Tom's most recent visit was taken. I chose one at random, only to find "Deputy Head" painted on the wall in front, so I had to back out and use another. It worried me that briefing-gaps like this might plague me all day. The forecourt was crowded with pupils of all ages, some of whom greeted me with "Hello Miss!" or "Good Morning, Mrs Harris," but I managed to keep smiling and to breeze into the staffroom as if nothing was amiss.

I wasn't teaching until the third period, so I collected my mail from my pigeon-hole and sat down at one of the desks. I felt a little guilty opening everything addressed to Mrs A. P. Harris, filling in forms and making decisions, but hell, I was me now, Amanda, and I would live my own life. I felt I could improve it, too, even though I knew that I had been the less organised as Tom. I started making notes of questions to ask him, starting with "parking place."

After most of the teachers had left to take first-period classes, a woman with long dark hair who I guessed might be one of my best friends, Carol, offered to make everyone tea. Luckily, before I had to respond, someone else addressed her as Carol, confirming my guess, so I turned and smiled at her and asked to be included. When she had brewed the tea and served everyone else, she brought hers and mine over to my desk and drew up a chair.

"Hey, Amanda, have you heard the latest on Derek? He's moved into his new mistress's flat, now!"

I found I really enjoyed gossiping with Carol. I had been briefed sufficiently on the current scandals. It was new to me to have a close girlfriend with no sexual complications and I really liked that, too. She was wearing bright, sexy clothes and make-up, so I thought: "Why shouldn't I?"

Far too soon it was time to do some real teaching. The corridors bore little resemblance to the sketchy plans I had been shown and I was terrified of getting lost, but I barely managed to find the important landmarks on the way to my first class.

I arrived to find the previous teacher winding up his lesson, and when he spotted me lurking outside, he picked up his books and came out, giving me a lustful stare which quite unsettled me. I wished Tom had warned me about him. However, I managed to regain my composure in time to face my first class of 13-year-olds. It wasn't nearly so bad as I had expected. They were well behaved and responded to me quite well. I got away with basic gaps in my knowledge by pretending to look up much more complex issues. I won't go into detail; I don't remember many. It's a bit of a blur to me now anyway.

The second period I taught was after lunch. They were 15-year-olds and some of the boys tried flirting with me, but I found new reserves of composure to see them off. They were involved in a project which required only general guidance from me, so this time I never needed to bluff any biological knowledge. After that I had to mark some of their work in the staffroom because I could not go home until after a meeting with the deputy head about timetables.

I thought I would be home before Tom and was planning what to cook for him as I drove home. But he met me just inside the front door with a huge hug.

"How did it go, my little teacher?" he asked.

"Well, you were right, of course. My new job is much tougher than yours," I replied.

"But do you still want to stay like this for ever?" he asked. "Because I do."

"I'll think about that after you've given me one of those famous female orgasms!"

And so he rushed me upstairs to the bed, where we tore off each other's clothes. Now I was delighted how easy it was to bonk on my back with my knees high and wide and with real aroused nipples atop real big tits. My arousal was fast and intense, so I had no trouble keeping up with him and very soon we came beautifully together. He kept calling me his "little teacher," as I had when Amanda first qualified, and I loved it, not finding it in the least patronizing.

"Thanks for dropping me in the deep end like that," I said. "I might have chickened out on Monday."

So there you have it: how I became Amanda for the rest of my life, apart from the odd escapade with our pebble. There was a time when Tom almost spoiled everything by trying to share the experience outside our marriage, even though I had warned him that there never was a wife-swap that didn't end in tears. But that's another story....

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