THE SO-CALLED CURSE

It was Josephine’s and my first Renaissance Fair. The food would be fun, we figured: smoked turkey legs, fried everything, et cetera. It was a short drive from our home and had discount Tuesdays. So, it seemed like a diverting, low-stakes way to kill a day off from work.

Aside from that, though, the whole thing seemed pretty laughable to us. Frankly, we were more interested in mocking the proceedings than in unironically enjoying them. A bunch of nerds dressing up as if it were the Middle Ages, speaking in quasi-Old English? Ridiculous sights and sounds would undoubtedly abound. We tended to enjoy some guilty-pleasure people-watching, and this seemed like it would be a real feast on that level.

It did not disappoint. Dorks played lutes and sang songs about maidens fair. Inconveniently ornate costumes made me wonder how the hell any of these folks wondered they would be using the bathroom any time soon. Lots of people could be heard using the word “hark.” It truly was a goldmine for mockery.

The highlight, though, was one particularly absurd “wizard.” He had his own purple tent decorated with white stars and planets. His attire was exactly what you’d expect: tall pointy hat, billowy full-length robes, those exaggeratedly-hanging sleeves. He even held a thin wand in one hand. “Foreigners!” was how he addressed us as we walked past. “What manner of dress dost thou wear?” This was in reference to our non-ridiculous outfits, apparently.

“Don’t worry about it,” I attempted to shut him down.

He persisted. “What narrow blouses thou art wearing! Where are thou articles of finery?” This guy sure said “thou” a lot.

“All right, thank you,” Josephine took a turn at trying to stop the attention he was directing at us. We weren’t looking for a conflict, but the guy was about to speak again.

“Thou-“

I cut him off. “Okay, buddy, enjoy your dress. We’re fine, please leave us alone.”

His face reddened; he raised his wand and huge-sleeved arms over his head. A whole mess of nonsense words emanated from his lips. I’m not gonna dignify them by trying to replicate the deluge of syllables he unleashed upon us. Take my word for it: it was a bunch of bullshit. He stopped, finally, and held a serious death stare in our direction. “Enjoy thou curse!” he shouted in understandable English as we began walking away from his tent. What a strange encounter with a very strange man.

We continued on our way towards the turkey legs and chalked up what we’d experienced as just another freaky Renaissance Fair worker interaction. Overall, we had a fun if ridiculous day. Plenty of good food and people-watching, much as we’d anticipated.

We slept well that night after walking a total of several miles at the fairgrounds. It would’ve been impossible to predict what we’d wake up to, though.

In the morning, my dick was gone. My hand went to idly touch my morning erection and found a gap where it should have been. There was a slit down there, fleshy and moist. It didn’t immediately register as a vagina; more as a lack of a penis. Then I noticed that as my arm stretched down to my crotch, it had to get past a serious set of breasts. I’ve never been anywhere near a thin guy, but my bosom had never been anywhere near what you might call “womanly” before. Now, it most certainly was. I started to sweat and panic, wondering just what the hell was going on with me. I shook Josephine awake roughly. “Josephine, wake up. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, something’s wrong.”

She whipped around quickly, her chest bumping into mine. Her bosom seemed flat where mine now protruded so dramatically. “What’s wrong, Jack?” she asked sleepily.

I put a hand on her lack of breasts, the other on my own substantial bosom. “Look at this!” I couldn’t help but shout. “My dick’s gone! I have tits! What the hell is going on?!”

She tried to shake the sleep out of her head. “You’re dreaming.” Her hand went to where her boobs had been yesterday. “I’m dreaming, too? Wait, what the fuck?!” Her other hand went down to my crotch, then to hers; her eyes went seriously wide. “I have a penis. And you don’t.” She hit herself in the face with an audible slap. Her hands kept exploring her new genitals. “This…” I observed her silently, waiting in horror for her to process this stunningly bizarre turn of events. “This is so fucking hot.” She grabbed my hand and put it on her cock. I could feel it swell up in my hand.

“It’s…hot,” I repeated as I felt her penis. My other hand went to…my…vagina. My vagina. What the fuck was going on here? And why did we both seem to be enjoying it? Without another word, I ducked underneath the covers and roughly pulled off my wife’s panties. I got her cock in my mouth and started bobbing my head, eliciting a great volume of moans from Josephine.

“Ohhh, Jack,” she managed between husky sighs. Her cock felt incredible to me. Lengthy and with a pleasantly substantial girth, very firm, extremely satisfying to fellate. I went and went, unable to stop and uninterested in stopping. Her moans increased in frequency and volume. She shot her hot load in my mouth, rope after rope as her cock convulsed against my tongue. I swallowed it rapidly, greedily even. My head popped back up out of the covers and kissed my wife deeply.

Once we separated our mouths from each other, she took her turn ducking under and going down on me. Her tongue traced my new downstairs lips, kissing and licking and sucking all over me. My clit was explosively sensitive, making me buck in pleasure as soon as she started stimulating me there. As she continued, I came hard and more than once in quick succession. Being multi-orgasmic was amazing, something I obviously never wondered I’d experience given my usual refractory periods. Finally, Josephine brought her head back up to meet mine and we kissed again. We looked each other in the eyes and spoke in unison: “What the fuck?”

Now, let me be totally clear about this right now: I’d never had a homosexual feeling in my life. Not that there was anything at all wrong with being gay: that just wasn’t the way I happened to be. As soon as we underwent our apparent gender swap, though, I was 100% into cock. And Josephine, also ordinarily totally straight, seemed to get off on pussy the moment she didn’t have one. We somehow settled in heterosexually the instant we found our new genders. It was strange, though not nearly so remarkable as the switch itself, of course. Luckily, this made the bizarre event more alluring and less alarming. I mean, it was still pretty goddamn alarming. Josephine was suddenly “Joseph;” I’d gone from Jack to “Jacqueline.” But, man, were we horny over our recent developments.

I simply could not keep my hands off myself. I loved my brand new titties. They were a fantastic use of the fatty deposits that used to be centralized around my midsection; I much preferred the more feminine distribution of weight. Heavy and pendulous, they’d gained a great deal of mass and were pulled down by gravity all at once. My nipples were suddenly so sensitive, almost too sensitive at times; I could get myself seriously wet just by pinching them for a few moments.

Mentioning getting wet gets me thinking about my new genitalia, too. My pussy is never very far from the forefront of my thoughts at this point. Being able to easily insert things into yourself is a whole lot of fun. I’m wet pretty much at all times, my vagina seeming to lubricate itself at the mere wondered of its own existence. So, I think about it, I touch myself down there, I discover I’m already wet and waiting, and I get off. It’s a tremendously satisfying cycle.

I absolutely love taking a pounding from my wife’s new dick. She’s quite well-endowed, I believe, and the feeling of being filled up so completely is fabulous. My fingers are fun to vaginally insert, but her cock is a whole other story. I can feel her twitch inside me as she blows her creamy load; I want that feeling multiple times a day, a bit more than she can comfortably handle. I receive creampie after creampie, trying not to make her self-conscious about her refractory periods as I wait impatiently for her to recover enough to fuck me again. It’s pretty much all I can think about. She seems to be pretty obsessed, too, jerking herself limp whenever we cannot screw for a few hours and spraying her cum anywhere and everywhere she can think of.

Curiously enough, the world has adjusted to our new genders. My birth certificate now says “Jacqueline,” hers now says “Joseph.” Ditto for our licenses and other essential documents. None of our family members, friends, neighbors, or co-workers ever missed a beat, calling us by our new names immediately and never batting an eye at our shifted physical traits.

This all seems to be part and parcel of whatever magic was inflicted upon us. We presume, probably obviously, that it was the wizard who “cursed” us at the Renaissance Fair that’s responsible for our entire situation. I put “cursed” in quotations because, while he seems to have succeeded in changing us with his spell, it is far from a negative thing. We are enjoying it like crazy, fucking more frequently and more creatively than we ever did in our from-birth bodies. It probably would’ve made sense for us to freak out, to question what the hell was going on and to try to find out how to reverse it, return things back to how they’d previously been. We simply weren’t interested in this, though. It was a wildly fun ride, and we were thoroughly enjoying it.

I liked taking my wife’s cock in any way she wanted to give it to me, but creampies remained my favorite result of our fucking. I’d ride her cowgirl or reverse cowgirl, take a pounding in missionary, let her get behind me for some doggystyle, fool around in seated positions: anything, really. I just wanted to take each and every load right in my new pussy. We tried titty-fucking and its resultant cum shots on my breasts a few times, but it really felt to me like we were wasting precious ejaculate. I loved the feeling of being filled down there and it just seemed logical to finish off each instance with a nice shot of semen. The feeling of it slowly dripping out of my slit afterward was divine; I rarely managed to keep my fingers from playing in it, or to stop myself from licking the cum from my hand after that.

My feminine physical changes seemed to become even more enhanced after a month or so. My nipples got even more sensitive, as well as darker and larger. My tits grew bigger and heavier, at times painfully so. My ass and hips swelled to become curvier, soreness resulting in these spots, too. My hair looked fucking incredible. What the hell was going on? Were some of my gender-swapped attributes just kicking in now, for some reason?

After puking on several straight mornings, I suddenly had an idea of just how far the wizard’s “curse” went and what the consequences of my wife and my actions might be. I’d taken innumerable creampies, had had so very much unprotected sex. Apparently, my downstairs plumbing was indeed that of a fully-functional woman. Following my fourth straight early vomiting session, I headed to the corner drug store for a pregnancy test. You guessed it: I received a positive result.

We’d discussed becoming parents before, and had settled on remaining childless. We loved our freedom and Josephine had had no interest whatsoever in experiencing pregnancy: it really weirded her out to think of her body being so comprehensively hijacked. For me, though, having undergone a shift to this new gender so recently and loving every bit of it, the idea of carrying a child was super exciting. My body would undergo yet more feminine physical changes, what could arguably be considered the most feminine of all. If I’d enjoyed the feeling of being filled up before, imagine what it’d do for me to have so much of my body swell up and out of control! It sounded simply amazing. I found I was much more interested in becoming a mother than I ever had been in becoming a father, and vice versa for Josephine. We decided with just a little internal deliberation that we would indeed be embarking on the journey of parenthood. I was a pregnant woman and I was thrilled about it.

A few more months passed and I finally started showing, right around the end of my first trimester. These were such tremendously exciting times. Just under my belly button, my brand new uterus was visibly and tangibly swelling within me. The area was delectably firm to the touch as it just began to protrude. It all felt fantastically feminine, these things I certainly would never have come close to experiencing while I was within the biology of my birth. I felt so very lucky, especially considering the fact that if we’d retained our genders Josephine and I would never have seen any of these important gestational milestones.

I was way into every aspect of what was going on inside my exciting new body. Morning sickness hadn’t been the most fun thing to go through, but it was more or less in the rearview mirror by the time I started showing. Even that unpleasantness was still a signifier of what was so radically shifting in my body, though, and thus not entirely negative. I loved the soreness that developed in my swelling breasts, hips, and abdomen: it all suggested either imminent or ongoing growth, and thus was very exciting to me. My body was preparing for something magical, starting to build nourishment in my bosom for my upcoming child just as it prepped to birth that child with my widening hips. The belly, of course, was the best sign of all. My bump swelled in proportion to the baby being built inside me, a tangible source of pride in the incredible natural phenomenon occurring in my womb.

Just as I enjoyed all my new physical changes, so Josephine continued to enjoy her new cock. She jerked that thing like crazy, more than keeping up with my heightened libido. Fucking me to my satisfaction was a tall order that she rose to each and every day, her hands exploring my burgeoning belly and blossoming breasts as she gave it to me. I may have been extra horny, but I was still building a human internally and prone to tiredness; in contrast, she was like someone going through a second puberty in her sexual stamina. Her refractory periods were maybe 10 minutes long, though she rarely seemed to utilize even that short block of time before starting to try to get herself hard again. It didn’t seem to matter too much to her that she frequently found herself stroking a limp dick and waiting for it to rise again: she just couldn’t keep her hands off that thing. I loved to see her play, especially watching her resurrect her erection over and over as I anticipated her entering me yet again. I don’t think she’d ever enjoyed her pussy half as much as she now enjoyed her penis.

I liked to imagine my belly swelled with each deposit of cum I received from Josephine. These fantasies filled the majority of my size-gaining second trimester. It all seemed about right in terms of my growth: I ballooned just a tiny bit more each and every day just as I took my daily series of loads from her. We fucked and fucked as I grew and grew, the multitude of creampies significantly adding up within me. I wasn’t the biggest-framed guy, but my wife’s family tended to be much larger folks. So, my petite physique had to handle what was in all likelihood an above average-sized fetus. My belly shot straight out from me with nowhere to go but forward. It was glorious to witness, an epic protrusion that just got better with each passing day.

I was hornier and hornier with my ongoing inflation; despite her best efforts to keep up with me, the wife’s new infatuation with her overworked cock couldn’t quite match my raging libido by the time I hit my third trimester. Things were supposed to slow down in terms of energy as one exited the second trimester…or so I’d repeatedly read. This did not seem to be the case with my pregnancy. My levels of libido and energy seemed to be ever-increasing, just as my size was. We decided we’d have to sexually distribute me with other people who might enjoy my maternal condition.

A glory hole was a great option, though not one that allowed me to take my desired creampies. The loads derived here were much more easily taken directly onto my bump. Josephine loved the sight of this, so I was happy to oblige her. It didn’t really matter to the guys on the other side of the hole that I was knocked-up, of course: unless they’d happened to see me enter the bathroom stall, they’d have no way of knowing I was with child. Regardless, Josephine and I kept the focus on my baby belly inside the stall of honor. As I jerked and sucked cock after cock onto myself, she stroked herself constantly to periodically add to the mess building on my abdomen. I loved the unholy mix of cum from strangers and my wife, the perversity of the scene really doing it for me. My arm may have had to discover its way around my growing belly to discover my crotch, but once it made its way down there it rarely loosened its hold on my cunt. I was constantly rubbing one out as I provided my never-ending series of hand- and blowjobs, frequently using some of the over-abundance of semen as an ineffective but arousing lubricant.

We also went to a local fetish bar’s “Swingers’ Night,” Josephine pimping me out repeatedly over the course of a lovely evening. A pregnant lady was a real prize to be won at such an event: I faced no shortage of potential suitors. My wife acted as my wrangler for everyone who wanted a piece of my ass. It was all men; a few women did try to get in there, but I passed on them once I realized I wasn’t interested in the least. When I had a dick of my own, I wanted pussy; now that I had a pussy, I only wanted dick. It seemed I was straight regardless of the genitalia I was sporting at the moment. We’d discover a preggo-interested party, get them warmed-up and in the mood with a little bare belly rub out in the open area of the bar, then bring them back into the bathroom for the real fun.

I loved fucking strangers and Josephine loved to watch me get fucked by strangers: it was a real win-win situation. If I’d literally been swelling with every load I took, my belly would’ve grown by about two months’ worth during this one night. I’d decided to forego the simpler action of hand- and bumpjobs this evening, focusing instead on taking cock internally. I mostly had my brief dates lay naked on their backs on the dirty bathroom floor so that I could ride them. Eventually, I did away with clothing in between mates, opting instead to parade my fully naked ass through the bar and really get some patrons’ attention. Not that my gravid belly was failing to garner enough acclaim even when I was fully covered up; I just wanted to act sluttier and sluttier. I lost count of how many cocks got in me. It was quite a night.

Through all our extramarital affairs, of course, Josephine and I kept fucking each other like rabbits. She loved my massive bump more and more as my gigantic third trimester continued. Whichever sexual position we went with, she wanted both her hands glued to my belly. Doggystyle was probably the easiest both for entry and for palm placement: my hanging belly didn’t get in the way of her cock getting inside me and she could wrap her arms around me for an outstanding grip on my midsection. I kept imagining my entire bump was filled with cum, inflating constantly with every load pumped into me. If that had indeed been the case, though, I think by this point I would’ve looked like I was full-term with quadruplets rather than the large singleton I was actually rocking.

Childbirth, ultimately and naturally, was the explosive conclusion of my 9 months of intense inflation. It was finally just too much for my body to bear, so I shot out an entirely new human being. The delivery room was packed with strangers yet I still managed to get off as I went through delivery. It was what all this had been building too, the final bit of excitement in this whole situation. It was too arousing not to provoke one last orgasm from this thirsty preggo.