Trans-Sexed By The Buddha!

Boruma Publishing

Brian wants a change "down there." Bigger, right? Meditation works, sort of. Now he’s a girl down below! His roommate doesn't mind, and gives the new package a daily workout. Brian worries that he's feminizing by the day. He calls his old friend (no benefits) Stacey, who can't believe his story. Then SHE tries meditating and gets trans-sexed! And they become friends with benefits.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Hold it, man. Just hold it,” Stacey said. “What you’re saying—no way. That kind of transformation—trust me on this, I know people who have done it—costs tens of thousands of dollars and takes many surgeries. Come on, Brian. Level with me.”

They had almost polished off a bottle of wine. It wasn’t until the second glass that Brian found the words and told her the reason he had to see her.

Sighing, he got up. “Okay if I slip into something more comfortable?”

Two minutes later, he was back. His flannel sleep shirt came mid-thigh.

“Shaving your legs? Really?”

Brian sat next to Stacey. “There’s no other way but to show you,” he said, and pulled the shirt up to his waist.

Stacey pushed his legs apart, her nose inches away from his genitals.

“This is just incredible,” she said under her breath. “I mean, uncanny.”

“I know. Bob asked me if I was taking hormones.”

“Not just that. I’ll have to show you.”

Stacey wiggled out of her jeans and pushed her thong down. Sliding away from Brian, she spread her legs.

“Look. Look at me.”

Brian had skinny dipped with Stacey a couple times. But, unlike in porn, he discovered that in real life women don’t lie around with their legs spread. Even with their one failed attempt at sex in his parent’s station wagon, he had no idea what Stacey looked like.

Stacey’s girl parts were the mirror image of Brian’s—a classic clamshell capped with a downy brown bush. Brian even had a mole on his left thigh just like hers.

“It’s real?” Stacey asked. “It works?”

“Stacey, I rub myself every day. Three, four times. It is insatiable. It’s a problem, but, jeez, not one that I’m in a big rush to fix. I had no idea chicks had it so good.”

“Did you show Bob?”

Brian blushed.

“No, please, no—tell me it isn’t so. He’s doing you?"

“Not strictly speaking. Bob’s not gay,” Brian said, blotting the shower incident out of his mind. “Hell, I’m not gay. It’s just, well…”

“How often?”

“At least twice a day.”

“What else? I mean, who else?”

“Hank, the new guy at the shop. He does me every night after we close.”

Stacey slapped her open palm on her forehead. “What if you get pregnant?” She was almost yelling.

“I guess if I get pregnant, I’ll get rich. Think about it. I’ll be on TV. I’d be the first man in history…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

She eyed him critically. “So, why are you here? Sounds like things are going just ducky. God knows, your sex life is better than mine.”

“God, Stacey, I’m still changing. You heard my voice on the phone. Look at my legs. I don’t shave them. Same with my underarms. My butt is round and tight. The more I use it, the more I feminize. And look at this.”

He unbuttoned the sleep shirt.

“Oh, baby,” Stacey cooed, her hands moving across his hairless chest. “Oh, they’re so cute! You’re ready for your first training bra!”
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Boruma Publishing
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Fiction / Erotica / Gay
Fiction / Erotica / Lesbian
Fiction / Erotica / Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror
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Content Protection
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Their exciting grand opening was only 2 weeks away, and Astra was working hard to remodel the damaged bay that would become her luxurious 'massage parlor.' She didn’t need sexy Jared Montrose sniffing around, trying to cozy up to her, just so that she’d hire him! Or was a job the only thing he wanted? Just how far could she trust him...with their new business, or her vulnerable heart?

Seven years ago, Tamika’s life was shattered when Logan’s parents divorced, and his mother dragged him off to Europe against his will. Now he was back--and even the thought of seeing him again reduced her to a mindless panic. She knew she had to face her fears...but not yet. She wasn’t just ready! Then, without warning, he appeared at the carwash--and everything blew up in her face!

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Junie placed her curled fist in Melanie’s outstretched hand. “Remember your promise?” Junie whispered. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of Melanie’s belly. Melanie had her price, though: She wanted a weekend alone with Michael, Junie’s caged husband. And Junie had her requirement: Melanie must sleep with her black bull to prepare her for the women’s XXX weekend in D.C., where they would celebrate the legalization of gay marriage on a pretend honeymoon.

~~~~~  Excerpt ~~~~~

“So, how is this going to work? Will this be a threesome?”

“Gosh, no, Melanie. Gordon detests Michael. The cuckolded husband and all that. Gordon will be out of town most of that weekend. We worked it out. He’ll meet you at a bar Sunday afternoon. He’ll buy you a drink. I can comfortably predict he’ll seduce you. If it makes you more comfortable, you can take him to my place. Michael will be there. That should up the comfort level for you.”

“What about you?”

Junie’s faced turned quizzical. “Me?”

“Don’t you want to be there? To watch your black lover, you know, stretch me?”

“Heavens no, dear. Why would I want to do that? Anyway, I’ll be away that weekend.”

Lunch arrived, and the women’s conversation turned to politics. Earlier that day, the Supreme Court had ruled that gay marriage is legal in every state.

“It makes me so happy to see lesbians walking down the street hand-in-hand, smooching in bars, dancing in clubs,” Junie said as the table was cleared.

“I know two couples who are getting ready to tie the knot.”

“It’s made me think about our weekend.”


“If you get Michael for a weekend, it’s only fair that I get you for a weekend, right?”

“Sure. What are your plans?”

“Gay marriage is in the air. Can’t you smell it?” Junie grinned.

“What in the world are you leading up to?”

“You’re going to be my wife, Melanie. For two whole glorious days. We’re going to go on our honeymoon. We’re going to parade around town, arm in arm, holding each other tight, smooching and cooing.”

Melanie stiffened. “I am not a lesbian.”

“No! Neither am I! We’ll pretend! It’ll be fun.”

“Junie, I can’t strut around Boston…”

“I didn’t say here.”


“In D.C. I’ll be at a conference at the Library of Congress that ends Friday at five. I’ll pick you up at Union Station at six forty-five. I’ve got reservations at a great little boutique hotel just off Dupont Circle.”

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“Think of it. Two hot chicks dressed to kill, hanging off each other. D.C. is so straight-laced and self-important. We’ll stand out, but in a nice way. We’ll make a splash wherever we go. People will nudge each other and say, Look at those hot lesbians! On Saturday, I’ve got tickets for the ballet at the Kennedy Center. I’ll buy you a drink at intermission. Well, actually, the whole weekend is on me.”

“Then back to our room for the main event?”

Junie smiled. “One of the main events. You don’t know this about me, but I need sex every day. If I don’t have a man, I have to … you know. My sex drive just doesn’t let up. If I go more than twelve hours without an orgasm, I get snappish and moody.” Her eyes lit up. “I want to find out if sleeping a woman will be as satisfying as sleeping with a man. I think so, but I want to know for sure. Think about it, Melanie. After a weekend of sleeping with Michael, topped off by an afternoon with my bull, wouldn’t you like to find out if sleeping with me is enough? Melanie?”

Melanie had closed her eyes. Tendrils of arousal blossomed in the pit of her belly.

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