Recently one of my pets discovered this story.  It fits between Transmigration (Part 1) and Transmigration (Part 3).  [Use the “Site Search” feature, above, to find and read those stories.]

Enjoy!

“No!” whispered the reflection of Anni. “No!” whispered Her voice from inside my throat. The horror and shock of the moment gripped me in disbelief. She had stolen my body, and imprisoned me in Hers.

“NO!” I hollered in defiance, with the commanding voice of Anni. I raised the statue high in the air, and was about to smash it to pieces when a sudden thought crashed into my mind.

“Its my only way back,” said Anni’s voice. I returned the statue to the coffee table with greater care than I would have with any of the precious treasures in my own penthouse condominium. I returned to the mirror.

Anni was so beautiful, that it felt odd to see myself gazing at Her reflection from behind Her own eyes. I raised Her hand to Her cheek and softly caressed it. I felt the incredible sensation of touch as a man, but from within Her body. I felt both the softness of Her cheek in my fingertips, and the softness of Her fingertips upon my cheek. The pleasure began to form inside me as I gazed at the flawless beauty of the face that was now my face.

I watched Anni’s reflection form an expression of pleasure and lust. I felt the manifestation of these emotions forming inside me. The face became more and more lustful. Her lips parted, and I was overcome with the desire and pleasure to use this body for my own lustful gratification. As I giggled with delight, the sound of Anni’s sexy giggle tore at my manhood. But, I had no physical manhood anymore.

I stepped back from the mirror and began to admire the feminine curves of Her body. With my complete hunger for passion, I looked at Her with the greed of a Sultan ready to pounce on the innocence of a slave girl. The reflection was no slave girl however. She looked back at me with the willing hunger of Her steaming sex. Our breath came deeply, and I watched the heaving of Her silky breasts. My silky breasts! Mine!

I was about to move Her fingers across the smoothness of Her breasts, when a thought struck me. There was no need for coaxing foreplay! I rushed to Her bedroom, and Her skillful, delicate fingers flipped off Her blouse and bra, skirt and panties. I left Her stockings on. I liked the way they felt.

I felt Her body lie back on the bed, and allowed Her fingers to do their work. Since they seemed to know just what to do, I just lay back and enjoyed the sensations. Her hands caressed, squeezed and pinched Her perfect swollen tits and nipples. I felt the sensation no man could ever truly feel. It was the feeling of feminine arousal growing from deep inside me. I moved Her body with my will, and directed Her hand between Her legs.

Instantly I felt a shudder of pleasure that had no comparison in my masculine experience. The foreign feeling of fingertips and fingernails smoothly and expertly sliding over, around and inside this pussy was ecstasy. I arched Her back, or did it arch involuntarily by itself? I feasted myself in the unbelievable physical pleasure of this subjection. I felt this pussy, my pussy, swelling with exhilaration and soaking with creamy femininity. I drew Her fingers to Her mouth, anxious to taste this luscious essence. Even this experience was a new one, for I tasted Her not as a man would, but as a woman.

Her hands returned to their glorious masturbation. She exposed Her clitoris for my pleasure, and at the first soft touch, a moan escaped me. It was a moan in Her voice! This too was mine to enjoy and control, and She began to moan louder and more intensely like the slut I was forcing Her to become.

It was the pleasure of satisfying an itch. It was the hunger for pleasure that made it even itchier. I was greedy for ecstasy, and it was ecstasy to feel greed. No comparison of such pleasure exists in the life and body of a man. Not even close!

A new feeling of overwhelming paradise suddenly appeared. I was cumming. I was cumming not as a man would, but as a woman. The expected feeling of every sensation of my body focusing on a single point in my cock was not there. Instead, a wave of pleasure seemed to cascade from a single point between Her legs, and rush outward throughout Her whole body. Another wave followed the first, and then another. Her fingers violently rubbed Her pussy, coaxing wave after wave of this immense bliss to crash forth. Suddenly, Her thighs tightened together. I felt a longing and yearning, that as a heterosexual male, I refused to acknowledge. The need and desire that this body craved was not one I would permit myself to allow. I let the satisfaction of relaxation and calmness spread, and fell back into the bed, looking at the ceiling.

I lay there awaiting the stupor of the post-orgasmic slumber to set in. Instead, I felt suddenly invigorated. I had to move. I had to get up!

I leapt from the bed, and put on some sweats. I marched into the kitchen, and saw, with some relief, a pile of dirty dishes. “I’ll have to do these first,” I thought. A strange urge to protect Her perfect hands emerged, and I carefully put on some latex gloves. As I did the dishes, I mused that Anni must have deliberately left this aspect of woman ness behind. I looked at the stove. “I’ll clean that tonight as well,” I thought happily. Anni’s voice began to hum pleasantly as I cleaned the kitchen. It was a song I’d never heard, and I was amused that this part of Her was also left behind for my enjoyment. It was quite late when I finally allowed the exhausted body of Anni to collapse into the freshly changed bed in Her spotless apartment.

Late next morning, I awoke. The feeling of having to go to the bathroom reminded me instantly that last night was not a dream. I felt a form of narcissistic adoration as I looked at Her reflection in the bathroom mirror. I washed Her face, brushed Her teeth, dressed Her, and made Her a cup of coffee. I took Her on an exhausting jog in the morning air, returning Her to Her apartment with Her hair clinging to the sweat on Her neck. I showered Her, and began to do Her laundry. From somewhere deep within my thoughts, I felt I had had something to do today, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I felt that I had a career or something, but I couldn’t remember that either. It was only a fleeting thought, and didn’t seem to warrant pursuing. I was ironing and singing, and it was the happiest day of my life.

Late in the afternoon, I experienced the great awe filled enjoyment of doing Her hair and putting on Her makeup. Her hands knew what to do with skilled expertise, and I saw the transformation of Her beautiful face in the mirror enhanced by each cosmetic product She applied. She smiled back at me often. I loved this! I was very happy, and the reflection of joy returned to me from the face in the mirror. I felt the tingle of Her lips as She applied the lipstick pencil. A quiver ran up Her spine.

Then I saw him in the reflection. Him! Me! It was myself, standing behind Her, smiling at us all. I almost jumped out of Her skin!

“Good for you! You’ve been having fun,” he said… or my voice said… or… whatever!

My thoughts raced in muddied confusion as he led me to the living room and picked up the recently polished statue. “Time to return to reality,” he said, in the voice that I remembered as my own.

In a short while, the hypnotic ritual with the statue was complete, and I was once again the man I’d always been. I looked at Her, dressed as I had dressed Her, but gazing not through the magic of the mirror. No longer did I control the expressions on this immaculately pretty face. She handed me the crystal from Her window.

“Go home, relax, and look deeply into this crystal,” She commanded. “Remember the memories of what your body has been up to lately.”

As I left Her apartment, finding my Mercedes, it struck me. She had been inside my body all night, and I had no idea what She had done. The cold steel hand of fear gripped me in terror. What had She done with me? A sudden wind carried up a piece of paper and slammed it into the windshield directly in front of me. It was a child’s Halloween drawing of a witch, but it had the face of Anni’s statue! One eye was colored brown, the other, blue. “Happy Halloween” was written in bright orange crayon. The wind tore the picture from the glass with panic that seemed to match my own, and a sound that seemed like a distant cackle. “Remember the memories of what your body has been up to lately.” I clutched the crystal tightly in my hand. The squealing of my tires became a shriek of horror that lunged me toward home. What had She done with me?