XChange Confessions 2
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XChange Confessions
Volume I, Issue 2
Gillian Hampton
Copyright © 2020 Gillian Hampton
All rights reserved.
Portions of this work have been previously published on Reddit on r/Xchangepillserotica.
This book contains explicit sex scenes and gender swapping to include scenes of dubious consent, breeding, former males getting pregnant, BDSM themes, gangbangs and other content that some readers may find offensive. Enjoy!
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. ALL characters portrayed within are 18 and older. ALL sexual situations involve participants 18 years old or older.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: Gillian Hampton Photo by: Maksim Shmeljov/Shutterstock.com
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
From the Desk of the Editor
Confession 1: Tiffany the Housewife's Tale
Confession 2: Eve the Stripper's Tale
Cover-Girl Confession: Andi the Plus One
Confession 4: Randy the Trucker's Tales
Confession 5: A Game of Poke-Her
Letters to the Editor and the Confessors...
From the Desk of the Editor
First, I want to extend my love and appreciation to all the people who supported the first issue, and me through the production of this second issue. You are all amazing people!
I received one letter from a fan asking about me. Was I born a woman or did I take a pinky? Will I share my experiences? Do I prefer men or women? I only have so much space and don't want to keep our dear readers from enjoying the confessions I've lined up for you. So I'm only going to answer one: the first one.
I was born a boy, and much like Tiffany, it was to my mother's disappointment. I am the eldest of three, all of us boys. Well, now only two of us are boys. I knew something was different about me when I didn't share the same interests as them. I'd play house and dolls with our female cousins while they went off to play football with our male cousins.
In middle school we had spirit week and for one day, called Opposite Day, we were encouraged to wear the other gender's clothes. Looking back on the time and place I grew-up--it was shockingly progressive for that town in that era.
My mom, secretly delighting in dressing me, lent me a dress, pair of pantyhose, and high heels. I was tall and surprisingly the clothes fit. Too good. Especially the nylons. It felt right. It felt like this was who I was.
I would spend the rest of my teen years and into my early twenties cross-dressing in private. When G. Bender Industries introduced the little pink pill my life was changed forever. I could become the woman I ached to become.
Unlike Tiffany's story, mine did not have a happy ending. My parents, very conservative evangelicals, disowned me as did as one of my brothers. My youngest brother still chats with me and lets me know my father has warmed to the idea. But my mother and middle brother have not. Maybe someday...
But until then, let's enjoy some gender-bending, smutty fun!
Ciao!
Gillian Hampton
Email: GillianHampton@protonmail.com
Twitter: GHampton18
Confession 1: Tiffany the Housewife's Tale
This is Tiffany R. again and thank you to all the readers who enjoyed my last story!
I wasn’t sure how to tell my story following my last letter. Ms. Hampton suggested I go with the time Matt ate out while talking to my mother. She said a linear tale is not important; my job is to help our readership fap! While it feels a little odd to have my story reduced to masturbation fodder; the thought that I'm helping men jerk-off (and hopefully not a few ladies Jill-off) gives me a little tingle and gets more than my creative juices flowing!
Anyway, I had been taking the pink pill for about four weekends in a row. We discovered that a 48-hour rated pill took 55 to 60 hours to wear off. Which meant after the 2nd weekend we had the following rhythm to our weekends: Friday at 4pm I’d take the pill and change while taking a shower. I would stay that way until sometime Sunday night. I’d wake-up and go to class as my male self.
I turned into my dream girl: a brunette girl-next-door type. My eyes went from blue to green but had a wide-eyed look Matt found endearing. Doe eyes but of a different shade than the typical brown! I know a lot of girls who talk about feeling less strong and other physical changes that happen. For me one of the most noticeable was my better-than-perfect vision got worse and I needed glasses. Nothing too powerful, I just needed the top end of readers available at a drug store.
In short, imagine someone who looks like Racheal Leigh Cook or Jenna Coleman only with green eyes and glasses!
Anyway, you probably don’t care too much about the specifics of my body at this point. You just want to read my slutty confession!
I got out of the shower and dried off, putting my hair up in a towel just like my mother showed me the previous weekend. (She had dropped in to see her daughter for the first time!) Applied my make-up and slipped on a pair of nude colored thigh highs Matt had picked out for the evening. We had decided to stay in and experiment with “free use”—where I remained nude and sexually available at all times in the apartment.
At this point it’d probably be good to back up. Since our first issue, we’ve taken some emails asking about how our families reacted to our gender-swap. My father was out of the picture at this point—so nothing really happened between us for another ten-ish years. And even though in my heart I knew mom would be delighted, picking up the phone and calling her was terrifying. I didn’t know for sure that she would take it well. There was a stability to our mother-son relationship, and I was about to disturb it like a tornado did the trailer park we lived in when I was little. (Both my mother and I have come a long way in life.)
After the first weekend living as a girl, I called mom. I figured it was best to do it as my birth self than Tiffany. The phone began to ring, but I could swear I could hear the thundering of my heart over it!
“Hello?” She said picking up, it was the ‘90s and not everyone had caller ID on little computers they carried around in their pockets!
“Hi mom.”
“Terry! Good to hear your voice! How much money do you need?” It was an inside joke.
“How much have you got?” This went back and forth for a few minutes. Mom filled me in on family gossip as I got up the nerve to tell her my news. I also tried to figure out the best way to start the conversation. A debate that I had long before I picked up the phone to call her.
“Mom, I tried Xchange and I think I like life better as a girl, and Matt and I are an item, and I’m going to make it permanent at some point.” I blurted everything out as a stream of consciousness that left the other end speechless.
“Is…is it safe?” A stunned mother said after almost a minute of silence.
“Yes.”
“I thought it was permanent…I saw on the news…”
“No mom, there are temporary pills someone can take.” I knew what the next question would be. “Matt and I saved up and bought them from a reputable place. A drugstore, not a drug dealer.”
“What are you going to call yourself?”
“Tiffany.” I could hear the joyful squeal on the other end.
“I’m sorry…it’s just…you know…I always wanted a daughter…”
“All too well.”
“What are you doing for clothes? What is your size? Wait, you probably don’t know that yet. How tall are you? How much do you weigh? How big are your boobs?” I answered her questions. “I think you can fit into some of my old clothes, the seventies are in style right, now right. You’ll look vintage or retro or whatever sounds hip. Maybe I could come for a visit next weekend and bring you some? Maybe take you shopping and teach you some tricks? My treat.”
“That would be lovely, where are you going to stay?”
That was a question that hung in the air for a moment. “Look, I can’t hold you, or Tiffany, to a standard I didn’t meet. All I can say is you need to be careful and make sure Matt is going to stick around if you get pregnant. I can’t believe I just said that to my son. I’m also not so self-deluded to think that your experiment wasn’t based on sex. So, if you don’t mind me staying…if you’re going to have a bed free if you’re sharing Matt’s…maybe I could sleep in your room?”
So much surprise in how cool she handled it. “I think that’d be lovely. Let me check with Matt.”
Matt said yes to the idea and said we needed some parental help. And he was terrified about telling his parents. So, the following Friday night at 8pm mom showed up. We chatted, she brought wine and we stayed up until the wee hours as she got to know me as Tiffany. In fact, the time before this visit was the last time, she ever saw me as a boy.
The next morning, we left for the mall after breakfast. She taught me how to shop and look for bargains. I had my first make-over and nails done. No extensions because I’d be turning back into a boy after she left. I could this wasn’t the norm because the nail artist looked at me funny. Now I regularly get acrylic nail extensions. They look so pretty, makes a neat sound when I tap them, and Matt just loves how they feel on his back!
But I digress. That morning I left the apartment as grubby girl and came back a gorgeous young woman. That weekend was a mini-boot camp of hair, make-up and nail care. Taking first steps in heels. Some of its Matt watched in amusement (and sometimes aroused). Some of it bored him and he skulked off to study or go watch a matinee.
The only thing sexual to happen between me and Matt when mom was there was Saturday night, he was horny and tried to instigate. I didn’t feel comfortable knowing mom was in the next room and could hear. But I was trapped in that I knew what blue balls felt like. “Can you just rub against me? Use me to jack-off…quietly?”
“I’ll try.” He whispered. Fifteen minutes later I had cum on my back and he was fast asleep!
Needless to say, when mom left on Sunday night, the door had barely closed when Matt and I were on each other like dogs in heat! But back to the following weekend…
I was about to take my hair out of the towel when I heard the phone ring and Matt answer. He knocked on the bathroom door and told me it was my mother. “Okay, I’ll be right out!” I replied, slipping on my glasses and a terry cloth robe I sometimes wore. My hair still in the towel and I stepped out to the living room to take the call.
I sat on the couch and started chatting with mom. Normally our conversations were brief, but I’d noticed that when I was a girl, she wanted to talk longer…and so did I! I noticed Matt looked a little cross and I mouthed: “What’s wrong?”
“Free use!” He mouthed back.
“I’m on the phone with my mother!” I replied on mute and gave him a dismissive wave of my hand.
This spurred Matt to action! He crossed the room, leaned over and untied the robe’s belt and flung it open revealing my naked body. I tried to cover myself.
“What’s wrong, Tiffany?” Mother asked.
“Nothing, Matt just made a funny face.” I lied as he smacked my hands away. Then he pushed my knees apart as he sank to his and before I knew it his face was buried in my pussy! He didn’t waste any time going for my clit!
“Now what’s happening, honey?” She asked.
“Nothing…a bird just flew into the sliding glass door. Scared me.” I lied again.
This only made Matt bolder as he attacked my clit with reckless abandon. I tried to get my mom off the phone, but she just kept talking. Soon I had my legs wrapped around his head, my feet sliding up and down his back. My free hand on his head, fingers entwining in hair. Trying my best to not make a whimper of pleasure while my mother filled me in on local and family gossip interrupted by questions about if I was really alright. And me repeatedly lying.
I finally had to cover the receiver with one hand as I let out a pathetic moan. “I’m back.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“No, mother…truth be told I’m feeling a little sick. I’m trying not to cough.”
“Okay honey, you take it easy. Have Matt wait on you until you get better!”
“I’m sure he will.”
“I like him, he’s a good guy. Almost good enough for my daughter. I love you honey!”
“I love you too, mother.” I said before slamming down the phone. I immediately leaned down and kissed my boyfriend passionately. “Your turn, switch me places!”
“Not a chance!” He said as he lifted me effortlessly, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me into his room. He dropped me on the bed and I immediately spread my legs knowing what he wanted. “Not that way.” He said before flipping me on my tummy and grabbing my hips to pull my ass into the air. He then slammed into my cunt from behind. He reached for my hair and pulled my head. “Free use means you’re nude the whole time and cannot tell me no.” He slapped my ass, hard. I couldn’t see, but I could feel the stinging handprint.
It wasn’t the most comfortable way to be fucked…but it felt indescribably good as he pounded against my cervix. Soon I was cumming…which made him cum. I felt him plant his seed deep inside me. We didn’t use protection. Neither of us had a STD and deep down we wanted me pregnant so we could stop paying for the pink pill. Above all, I just love the way it feels inside me. Warm. I even like how it feels oozing down my legs after sex.
We lay there, cuddling until I felt his cock getting hard again. “Now you can blow me.” He said before I obediently slid my head beneath the covers.
Confession 2: Eve the Stripper's Tale
Dear XChange Confessions,
I’m not one for linear storytelling. Unless I’m specifically tasked with something my writing tends to jump around and I’ll write what comes to mind. So, for readers who may be wondering what’s happened with Zach since my last (and first) confession—this one isn’t going to focus on it. A few updates for the curious: we have gone out once and it was a very romantic date. He’s a gentleman and slowed things down wanting to get to know me. I’m in a place where I’m trying to wrap my head around this—he doesn’t know I’m a Xchange girl.
Which is why I’ve been thinking about who I am. Really. My external manifestation aside.
I think a lot of Xchange women started out as bisexual. If I’m being honest with myself—I’ve always been. While before Zach I exclusively dated women, I found myself attracted to men too. The balance tipping just a little towards them. But I suppressed those feelings and enjoyed my hetero relationships.
Then I stepped into my club for the first time as “Jane” for my interview. It would challenge my assumptions and offer the opportunity to try something new. It really sets the stage for me being open to go out on a date with a man.
With the lights up the place is a cleaner than one would expect. Although it loses something without the black lights making the whites and yellows glow. The dim light concealing the imperfections of the flesh the way an airbrush cleans up a photo.
I was wearing tight clothes. A white t-shirt that showed off the black bra underneath. Jeans. High heels. Underneath was the aforementioned bra, matching panties, and thigh highs. My dirty blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. Purse slung over my shoulder.
When I arrived, the bouncer was managing the set-up for the day. Making sure the bar was stocked and things were cleaned again even though the night crew does a p
retty good job of cleaning up. In the South where there’s still a morality police, they will use any excuse to shut down an establishment of ill-repute. And he would be damned if his club got shut down for a health code violation because the owner insisted on having a kitchen to draw in the lunch crowd perverts.
He looked at me and I wondered if this was the first test on the way to be hired. So, I turned on a bright smile and friendly charm. He softened and led me back to Terry’s office.
Terry was watching some porn when I came in. I wondered if this were a test too, so I watched it; a couple of lesbians were having a tender moment in the office. It kind of surprised me; I was expecting some hardcore stuff. The guy is in his 50s and looks like he’s been to the end of the porn internet and seen everything. Sometime mundane as romantic lesbianism didn’t seem like it would be his thing. But whatever.