The noises stopped. All the screaming, crying, praying, yelling. The whole plane went silent. And dark. And… soft?
Edward opened his eyes. Above him was a ceiling, not a plane ceiling, but the ceiling of what looked like a small studio apartment. He lay there in a daze.
“I’m alive?” he said, but his voice sounded girly, almost sultry, as if he’d learned to talk like a sexy pornstar.
“Um… hello.” He heard his voice again, and the vibrations in his head and throat felt so alien. He held up his hands and saw two dainty hands and fingers with red nail polish. He sat up. The sudden change made him teeter with nausea.
He looked down at his body. He had boobs. Large C-cup boobs, too. He was wearing a black sports bra and panties.
His body was slim, almost toned but not enough to show much definition in her abs. The most optimal build for a girl. His ass was also much softer and rounder.
“AHHH!” He couldn’t help it. He tried to yell, but out came a girly scream. Where was the deepness to his voice? It felt so wrong, like his Adam’s apple was missing…
He ran over to a door that appeared to be the apartment’s bathroom. Inside was a simple shower, toilet, and sink with tons of women’s products. He looked at himself.
He was definitely a girl. A beautiful girl who seemed to have dyed her hair red. Looking at the roots, it appeared she was a more naturally orange-haired redhead. Her facial features were striking, with strong, sharp features and almond-shaped verdant green eyes.
“Fuck, no, no, this… who are you?!” the voice came out again.
Edward gulped, looking at the body again. She was hot. He looked at his bra. Reaching to each side, he lifted it over his head, and out bounced two melons with nipples that were inverted.
“Fuck… they’re innies.” He said, lifting his breast with his hand. He looked away from the mirror at it and immediately leaned down and suckled on the nipple. It felt good, like a nice sensation that resonated to his groin. Not shocking, just—
“Mmph.” A small moan escaped as he bit it softly. His lower half arched slightly at the touch.
His eyes widened. This body is so sensitive. He let go of the breast and pulled down his panties. His pussy was shaven recently, but the speckles of orange-red hair had begun to show around his new pelvic region. Instead of a protruding cock, a soft fold appeared.
“Ma’am, if you are watching this through some prison in our now shared brain, I apologize, but you are just gorgeous.”
He walked to the bed he had once been lying in. He lay down and looked back at the ceiling he had abruptly woken up to.
“If this is a dream before I die… I… Yeah, no. I’m taking advantage of it.” The feminine voice spoke for her.
He inserted his finger into his pussy. “Mm,” a moan escaped his throat almost immediately.
He froze for a second, finger buried knuckle-deep in the soft, warm slickness. The sensation was nothing like stroking a cock. It was deeper, wetter, more enveloping. Every tiny movement sent sparks racing up his spine and straight into his brain.
“Holy shit…” he whispered, the sultry voice cracking into a soft whimper. He slowly pumped the finger in and out, watching the way his new folds parted and clung. The wet sounds filled the quiet apartment. His other hand instinctively grabbed one of the heavy breasts, squeezing and rolling the inverted nipple between thumb and finger until it finally popped out, stiff and sensitive.
A sharp moan tore out of him. His hips jerked up off the mattress.
He added a second finger. The stretch burned just enough to make his eyes flutter. His thumb found the swollen little bud at the top of his slit and started circling it in slow, deliberate strokes. The dual sensation (fingers curling inside while that tiny nerve cluster got constant attention) made his whole body tremble.
“F-fuck… it’s so… sensitive…” he panted. Every breath made his new chest rise and fall, the soft weight of his tits shifting with the motion. He pinched the free nipple harder, twisting it, and his back arched hard enough that only his shoulders and heels stayed on the bed.
His fingers moved faster. Wet, obscene squelching filled the room. He could feel himself getting dripping wet, the slickness running down over his knuckles and onto the sheets. The pressure in his lower belly coiled tighter and tighter, completely different from the familiar build of a male orgasm. This felt bigger, heavier, like something was about to snap inside him.
He curled his fingers, searching, and suddenly hit a soft, spongy spot deep inside. His entire body locked up.
“Ah—! There—!”
He hammered that spot ruthlessly, thumb grinding circles on his clit. His free hand abandoned his breast to clamp over his mouth, trying to muffle the high, desperate moans pouring out of him. His thighs started shaking. His toes curled. The red hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
The first real orgasm slammed into him like a truck.
His pussy clamped down hard around his fingers, pulsing in strong, rhythmic waves. Clear fluid gushed out around his knuckles, soaking the sheets beneath him. His eyes rolled back. A long, broken cry leaked past his palm as his whole body seized and shuddered for several long seconds.
When it finally let go, he collapsed, fingers still buried inside himself, chest heaving. His new body felt limp and oversensitive. Every tiny aftershock made his hips twitch.
He slowly pulled his fingers free and stared at the shiny, wet mess coating them. Then he brought them to his mouth and tasted himself: sweet, slightly musky, completely foreign.
A soft, dazed laugh escaped him.
“…Okay,” he murmured to the empty apartment, voice still husky and thoroughly fucked-out. “Definitely not a dream.”
He rolled onto his side, still naked from the waist down, and slid two fingers back between his slick folds almost lazily. The sensitivity made him hiss, but he didn’t stop. He was already getting hard (well, wet) again.
He always knew secretly if he randomly gained a girl body he would most likely masturbate with it immediately. He would save the freaking out for later.