The Day I Became a Woman
I'm a middle-aged man. The kind you see everywhere.
And right now… I'm being raped.
"Ha—shit, I can't hold it. Coming. Kh—"
"Mmph! Mmmph! Ghk! Ugh! *Cough, cough, cough.*"
Nausea surged back up my throat just as a thick white flood poured in, the two colliding somewhere deep inside. In the end I gagged hard, but there was nothing I could do except clutch at my neck and cough myself raw.
My first taste of a man's semen. That filthy, fishy, viscous stuff filled my throat to the root and clung to the membranes until I could barely draw breath. God damn it. If I'd known it would come to this, I never would have felt that stupid scrap of sympathy. I regretted the mistake again and again.
Still—this had to be the end. He'd finished, so… he wouldn't do anything more. That was pure delusion on my part. The bastard suddenly seized me by the hair while I was still coughing and hauled me upright, and before I could even get angry I saw what had appeared in front of my eyes and went rigid with shock.
"Wh… what? Why is that still—"
"Ha! Auntie. You're hotter than I figured. Mouth alone isn't gonna cut it. Time for the main event."
"What? Hey! That wasn't the deal. Let go."
"Fuck. What are you on about? You're the one who said you'd do anything. Shut up and spread."
"Aaaagh!"
He flung me by the hair onto the bed the way you'd toss a load of freight. My head cracked against the headboard, and before I could even register the pain he was up on the mattress, yanking the zipper of my jeans and stripping them off in one hard pull.
I panicked and tried to scramble away, but the only place left was the corner of the bed. Even that he denied me—he seized both ankles, flipped me over, and looked down. Our eyes met. I wanted to die of fright.
"Heh. Wow. Didn't take you for it, Auntie, but up close you're kinda cute."
"Don't come near me. Please don't. This isn't—this can't happen."
But his eyes were already gone with lust, and my words didn't seem to reach him at all. My gaze slid to his body. The messy Irezumi tattoos scrawled across him. That muscular frame, all ridges and swells, slick and shining with sweat.
And his thick male scent, tangled with cigarette smoke, scrambled whatever was left of my mind. The truly wretched part, though… was how my body reacted the moment I breathed him in. He stripped my panties off with a sneer.
"Wear something prettier once in a while, huh? But look at you down there… whoa. Full flood. You were secretly hoping for this, weren't you."
"No! I'm not!"
"Ha! Shit. Quit screaming. This wet, I can just shove it in no problem. Auntie—your husband's coming in."
"No! Don't—aaaaah! Aaaaaaagh!!!"
A stabbing pain like a knife through my lower belly blanked my mind white. I hadn't known. That it would hurt this much. How do women… endure this?
And in the same breath I felt something inside me—some last frayed thread of resistance—snap clean through. Why? Why had it come to this? All I had wanted was to find a happy life again. To live with our lovely son as a gentle dad, the way we used to.
So why was I here now, trapped in a woman's body, being violated by a man living a train-wreck life? The thought dragged my memory back months, to how it all began.