Chapter 2

Zoe

“I’ll teach you how to be me first then?” said Dylan. “I’ve a feeling they’ll be less to show you.”

“Sure,” I agreed.

“We’ve got a slight problem, though.”

“What?”

“Well, Emma is coming over today...”

“Emma Charles?” I asked. “Why?”

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s coming to hang out with me.”

“You mean fuck you?” I said, crossing my arms, raising an eyebrow and sticking a hip out, something I often did but now I was in a man’s body it probably looked ridiculous.

“I can cancel if you want?”

“No, I know you’ve been chasing her for a while.”

Emma was a stunning girl, slim but curvy, D cup boobs and a brilliant ass. She had a reputation for being amazing in bed, a real dominatrix and was one of the most sought out girls at school.

“I just don’t know if I can perform well enough, to live up to your reputation, that’s all.”

Dylan had a reputation at school of being a sex God, giving every girl he had been with the best orgasm of their lives. Of course, this wasn’t true; Dylan was more likely to make sure he was satisfied before anyone else. He wasn’t a jerk or anything but from what I gathered if there was a choice of him having an orgasm or the girl he was screwing, he would have chosen himself.

“I think you’ll be fine,” he reassured me. “All the rumours are true, she fucked Joe Peters a couple months ago and he said that he got completely dominated. Just do what she says and you’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know...” I replied, tailing off.

“Look, even if she doesn’t just take control and ride you like everyone says, it’ll be just like having sex with the girls like you tell me all the time,” Dylan reasoned. “Kissing her and eating her out is obviously the same, just with my mouth not yours. Plus, if you have to, you know, use your dick then it’ll be just like using a strap-on but instead it’s actually attached to you and you’ve told me you’ve used them with the girl before.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I agreed, begrudgingly.

Dylan ran towards me and hugged me, trying to put his hands around my neck like he usually did, but then realised he was now too short and I was too tall.

“I don’t know why you’re so reluctant,” Dylan said, winking at me. “You’re going to get to fuck Emma Charles, one of the sexiest girls at school.”

“I know, but I’ve been in this body for less than an hour and I can barely walked properly yet, never mind have sex.”

“Like I said, just think of it like fucking one of the girls.”

“Now you mention them...” I said, letting go of him.

“Yeah?”

“Well, they’re sleeping over tonight.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy and Eva,” I confirmed, listing my best friends and more than often fuck buddies.

“Let me guess, there isn’t going to be much sleep at this sleepover is there?” asked Dylan.

“If any at all,” I replied. This time it was me who was winking. “It was Lucy’s idea; we’re calling it the ‘Sex Marathon’. We were all going to go shopping this afternoon for some clothes and toys, then come back here and fuck each other all night.”

“It was Lucy’s idea?” laughed Dylan. “I always thought she was really shy.”

“Yeah, she is. She’s just incredibly horny!” I said, also laughing. “You sure you want to do this? Do you really think that you could act like me for that long?”

“Yeah, I spend enough time with you. I know you inside out!”

“I don’t know,” I said, unsure.

“Please, Zoe! I’ve always wanted to fuck those girls, especially Eva, she is so hot!” Dylan whined. “Besides you have all been friends for so long it’s not like I haven’t gotten to know them, is it?”

“Okay then, but if they notice something up its on your head. I suppose this is all part of living as each other,” I admitted. “Let’s go get you ready. Lucy is picking you up in an hour or so.”

Dylan

Zoe strode into her bedroom, with me in tow, struggling to keep up now my legs were considerably shorter than they were an hour ago. Though, in fairness, Zoe did have those kind of legs that seemed like they were never ending and she was taller than most girls but still graceful. Well, Zoe’s body was graceful when she was controlling it, whereas I had just walked into a door frame; I told myself it was just something to do with women’s vision not being very good at judging depth, but in truth I was adapting to my new body more slowly than Zoe.

“Sit down,” instructed Zoe, as we reached her dressing table. “We’ll do your hair first, then make-up and after that we’ll get some clothes on you.”

“Make-up?” I asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, you’re me now? Remember?” Zoe laughed. “When is the last time you have seen me in public without makeup?”

“Okay, go on,” I said, feeling my last shred of masculinity was about to be taken away from me. With my hair half dry, Zoe grabbed her hair-dryer and attached something to it, almost the same way you would attach a silencer to a gun. She turned it on and grabbed a brush, working it through my black hair. Eventually, she deemed it dry and turned off the hair-dryer but carried on brushing, a little too forcefully. She seized my hair and pulled it tight behind my head, then continued brushing, before smoothing some kind of gel over my scalp. I looked in the mirror, noticing that a sleek pony tail was beginning to take shape. She grabbed a bottle of what I presumed was hair spray and proceeded to suffocate me with it.

“Do you really need to use that much?” I said, coughing.

“Hush.”

After wrapping a bit of hair around the hair tie that was already in place, covering it up, she announced she was done.

“You like it?” she asked.

“I love it, very sexy,” I praised, as she set to work on my makeup. A whole assortment of brushes and products were flying around, none of which I understood or had even really heard of which led to Zoe describing each in great detail; after twenty or so minutes, I did not think I looked a great deal different but Zoe was satisfied and convinced I did.

After my make-up and hair, Zoe led me into her huge walk in closet, which was the main reason Zoe had chosen this room when we moved in.

“Wow, Zoe,” I said, in awe. I had been in here once or twice before, when we viewed the house but it was a new build and had no clothes in it and the second time it was fairly sparse; the total opposite could be said now. The left hand wall had more formal and party clothes stored in clever racks and drawers whereas the right hand wall was more casual wear; shoes filled shelving similar to that of a bowling alley on the door’s wall as well as the one opposite. However, there was a gap about the same size as the door on the far wall.

Before I could ask why, Zoe answered all of my questions.

“You must be wondering where all my lingerie and underwear is after I said I had a fetish for it,” Zoe began. “You also must be wondering why there is a gap on the back wall, and why the room seems smaller than it did when they showed us around.”

Now that she mentioned it the room, as big as it was, did seem smaller and the gap on the right hand wall did look strange.

“I guess,” I said, having actually been too distracted to think any of what Zoe had just said.

“Watch,” Zoe walked back into her room and picked up her smartphone. When she returned, she passed me the phone. “Unlock it.”

“I don’t know your code?” I replied, confused.

“It’s a fingerprint scanner, moron.”

“Oh, right and you can’t unlock it because you have my fingerprints now and I have yours.”

“Exactly,” Zoe answered as I placed my finger on the sensor, unlocking the phone.

“My phone is in my room, charging,” I told her. “The code is 5864. I guess we’re going to have to swap phones for a while.”

“Yeah, I suppose we will,” Zoe agreed, reluctantly.

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s just there are some pictures and stuff on there.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just unlock the private mode, and you’ll see,” she said. I did as she said, swiping down the menu bar, and then unlocked the private mode, again with my finger. Automatically I was taken to the image and video gallery. I read the name of the folders: ‘Naked Selfies’, ‘Sex Pics’, ‘Mollie, Emily, Lucy, Eva Nude’ ‘Dick Pics’; the list continued along the same lines. There was a whole video album dedicated to porn and contained over a hundred films. On the home screen dozens of apps, dedicated to sex chats and hooks ups, had now appeared.

“Holy crap, Zoe!” I exclaimed.

“I know, I know,” Zoe sighed, embarrassed. “I’m a bit obsessed with sex.”

“It’s okay,” I comforted. “I think most people are, even if they don’t admit it. I definitely am. Plus, this is clever.”

“Thanks, another reason why I love you,” she said.

“What, because I love sex?”

“No,” Zoe said, laughing. “Because you always know what to say.”

I looked back at the phone, and an app stood out to me: ‘Secret Room’. “What’s this, Zoe? One of those room escape games?”

“No, that’s the whole reason I went and got my phone,” she said. “Tap it.”

Again, I did a she said and pressed the app’s logo. A screen came up that read, ‘Unlock Door’ and had a key symbol underneath it. I looked to Zoe, for permission to tap it and she nodded so I pressed the key. There was a small whirring noise, like an electric motor, and the gap on the wall in front of me began to slide downwards into the floor.

“Zoe, what the hell’s happening?”

“Just watch.”

After a few seconds, there was a gap the same size as the door opposite. Looking through the gap, there was a second room, even bigger than the one I was stood in. It was like I was in a spy movie or something. I could not believe what I had just seen.

“Follow me, Dyl,” Zoe said and took me by the hand. She led be into the next room. I gasped. It was similar to the previous closet but the clothing was slightly racier in here. The first section was full of dozens of bras, organised by style and colour by the looks of it. Panties covered the next section, every type imaginable from thongs to cheekies, organised in the same way. There was another section for sleepwear, this time ordered by what appeared to be the sexiest to the least sexy. Sports bras and running shorts filled the next. Finally, there was the sexiest section of them all, covered in suspenders, garters and other very hot lingerie. There must have been hundreds of pieces altogether, and the number of colours surrounding me was overwhelming.

The centre piece of the room was a large, king-sized bed. I walked around it slowly, trying to take everything in, before facing back towards the door. That’s when I spotted the final section. While other three walls were exclusively covered in clothes, the wall with the door was filled with sex toys. Everything from dildos and vibrators to anal beads and butt plugs. There were boxes and boxes of condoms of every type, along with various types of lube. It was a woman’s sex paradise.

“What is this?” I said, turning to Zoe.

“I guess some would call it a boudoir, the girls simply call it the ‘Fuck Room’ but I don’t really have a name for it,” she replied, nonchalantly.

“What ... when ... how?”

“When we were thirteen, Mom caught me masturbating using the handle of my hair brush. So, she decided to buy me a dildo and she showed me how to use it because the hair brush was too big and she didn’t want me hurting myself. Less than six months later, puberty really kicked in, and I went from an A cup to a 34C, by the time I was fourteen. All of the bras I had were too small, and aimed at little girls so Eva suggested we go to Victoria’s Secret. We walked in and I stood in awe, kind of like you did just now. Everything was so beautiful and made me feel like a woman, as well as making me more confident because I felt sexy. I used the credit cards that Mom and Daddy had given us and we bought tonnes of stuff.”

“After that, with my new found confidence, I started going after guys just around the time they started getting really horny and becoming interested in sex. One day after school, whilst you were still at school for soccer practice, I brought Tommy Jackson home with me-thinking we’d be alone. We made out for a while in my room, and I gave him a handjob, by which point Tommy was naked and I was dressed only in my sexiest red bra and matching panties. I knelt down in front of him and started to blow him, just as Mom walked in.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well clearly she kicked him out, and sent him home. She demanded to know where I had got such sexy underwear from and I told her. I thought she’d be really mad, but she just asked if I had anymore. Of course, I did, it was stuffed under my bed all scrunched up and hidden. I got it all out and put it on the bed, and she said she liked it thought it was all very pretty. She asked if she hadn’t have walked in, because her meeting was cancelled and got home early, would I have gone all the way with him. I said yes, and she asked where the condom I was going to use was. Mom realised I didn’t have one, and got angry. I knew, I should have had one but it was a spur of the moment thing.”

“What did Mom do?” I asked, enthralled and quite turned on by the story.

“She said that it was okay and wasn’t mad, then told me the story of how she lost her virginity. She said she didn’t regret doing it at such a young age, she was around the age I was when I blew Tommy, but she regretted how it happened. A guy a couple years older than her had fucked her in the back seat of his car. Mom, of course, said that while she wasn’t thrilled I wanted to have sex so soon, she recognised I had developed early and would rather I was comfortable in my own home rather than do it like she had. She also said that she could relate to my love of lingerie but if Daddy saw me wearing it he would go ballistic, and even more mental if he caught me screwing in some guy. We agreed that I needed somewhere secret at home to store my lingerie and have sex if I wanted to without getting caught by you or Daddy. A few days later Mom took me to the doctor and put me on the pill but I had to agree the guy would also wear a condom to protect myself from STDs. She also showed me plans of the room we’re stood in now. Do you remember the old bathroom that was down the hall?”

“Yeah, but they sealed the hallway up past your door and took out the bathroom, when Mom was renovating,” I said. Our mother was an interior designer and her favourite place to renovate was her own home.

“That’s true, but you and Daddy were told it was to make room for a new heating system, weren’t you?” she said, testing my memory.

“Yeah, I remember. Was it actually for this?”

“Yes. Mom extended into the bathroom and out into the hallway, then knocked out the back wall of the closet. She put a partition wall in to make this room bigger and the other smaller, then installed all the racks and shelving to hang my lingerie. Then bed was put in, so I could have a place to fuck without anyone catching me along with the initial reason of me being comfortable; though I only use it with people I trust I don’t just let any random person in here. Mom bought loads more lingerie for me because we were pretty sure I was done developing. Well, my tits were at least and I wasn’t going to grow in height much more, if at all. She also got me most of the sex toys you can see mainly because she knew I was bi and could use them with the girls, but she also thought it would encourage me masturbate more rather than have sex. I’ve added to the collection over the years, and I go to lingerie stores especially Victoria’s Secret with Mom quite a bit.”

“What’s the TV for?” I asked, curious as I noticed an at least 50” flat screen TV above the door.

“It was put in for porn, again so I’d pleasure myself rather than getting a guy to do it for me, and I do use it for porn. Most of the time though I use it to Skype the girls, sort of like phone sex, but I can also watch them get themselves off. It’s also hooked up to a camera that’s in the corner of the room so I can make films with the girls if I want, though I out that in later myself- Mom doesn’t know about it. Oh, and the computer it’s connected, too; I can Skype the girls, but it also contains a database of everything in here. It’s voice controlled so if I say something like: show me all my red bras.”

Suddenly, the lights in all of the other sections other than the bra one, went out. As did the lights which were illuminating any bras which weren’t red.

“There are 19 red bras,” a computerised voice said, seemingly from nowhere. “Do you wish to refine your search?”