He gasped, and then reached up to feel his face. It was softer, the cheekbones higher, the lips fuller... and not a blemish could be found."This can't...be happening," he said, his voice sounding even softer than before. "It must be a dream."He wandered over to his closet, feeling the swish of hair upon his shoulders with ever step. Gone were his jeans and polo shirts, replaced instead by a variety of colorful skirts and blouses... even a cheerleader's uniform. Feeling the fabric of the panties. Just like a girl. A real cunt, juicy and everything. How can it be?" Dazed, Roger sat down on the toilet to think about his predicament. It occurred to him his host might have an explanation. And what about the damned bathing suit? He picked it up off the floor and examined it. There seemed to be nothing unusual about it. He stood up and turned to lift the lid and piss, not realizing it might be impossible in his present condition. Expressing disgust, he turned to sit back down, again having. More

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