Vague images chased across his mind and he tossed fitfully back and forth in his sleep. He was back in the forest, naked and his nether regions covered in semen. He needed to pee, but couldn't bring himself to get up to do so as he stared down in shame at the pert, B-cup swell that now dominated his chest. He could see them rising every time he breathed in, feel the cool air brushing against them. He knew that there that there was no use denying that he now had breasts and that, if he squeezed his eyes shut, counted to some random number and opened his eyes, he would be still looking at a pair of tits.
The stream that he stood in, which only came up past his ankles, tickled as it rushed over his feet. The water cold, crisp, inviting, he knelt down until he was squatting, the tip of the ridiculous thing that he used to call his penis near the water. Splashing the water onto the inside of his legs and on the vulva now between his legs, he cleaned the cum off, hating what he'd done, given into, and what had happened because of it. After a bit, it became too much and sinking to his knees, he ended up kneeling in the stream. Staring down at his tits, feeling the brisk water run over his smooth skin, reminding him of what was now down there and how useless his penis was, he wailed, "We're cursed. Damned. This is like some type of hell and there is nothing, no escape, no loopholes, nothing that can be done. We are doomed to become the forms the curse is turning us into. Me. Tobias. Linus. Anyone foolish enough to come across and enter the cabin."
The water of the shower struck his head and he shut his eyes. Enjoying the way it ran down the top of his head, through his hair, which was still short and looked normal for a guy, and over his face, which also, despite being smooth and incapable of growing hair, also looked like a man's face. Tilting his head up, letting the spray hit him full force in the face, he moaned in pleasure as he shifted and allowed it strike his breasts. The warm water feeling great against his tits, he sucked a bit of the water, then spat it out. The feeling, the need, the want, to be satisfied, to be taken, slowly coming over him, he relished in the warmth that had nothing to do with the water and seemed to start in his abdomen, groin and chest all at once.
Strong arms slid over his shoulders and he felt and smelled a strong masculine presence behind him. Leaning back, liking the feel of the man's erect cock pressing into him, Mathew kissed the underside of the chin as the man made a hooting noise and began to play his the erect nipples of Mathew's breasts. Knowing it was Linus, something seemed off about the man's size, as Mathew could not determine if the man was either a couple inches taller or a couple feet taller. The shower water, the man's touch, everything bringing him closer and closer, Mathew knew that the only thing to complete the picture would be for Linus slid his erect cock into his vagina.
With a audible gasp, Mathew sat. The dream still fresh in his mind, he gasped, brought his knees up and leaning forward so that his head was on them, he sleepily muttered, "That was too close."
For some time know, the same dream had been visiting him, drawing closer and closer to the point Mathew knew would be when he and Linus once again did it. Hating that he wanted it, and that he kept having the same dream, he groaned and shifted in the bed. Pushing the sheet off, he stood, adjusted the sleeper shirt he was wearing and shuffled across the room and out the door.
Nearly two weeks had gone by since he and Linus had fucked and since then, he'd been living in the cabin, having retreated back to it because he saw no alternative. Since then, he forced himself to ignore his body's sexual needs, finding, for reasons he didn't understand, that they were a titbit easier to deal with. His penis didn't grow hard any more and, as it was only somewhere between 1 and 3 centimeters long, he didn't think an erection would be possible. Add to that that if it did get erect, there wasn't anything he could do, as grasping and holding onto his cock required a finesse he struggled with. Heading for a nearby bathroom, he sat down on the toilet, hating that he was reduced to peeing like a girl.
He'd tried a couple time to daintily grasp and hold his dick. But the couple times he'd attempted, all that had happened was that he'd ended up peeing on himself. In his opinion, the only thing that made it worse was when, about a week ago, he'd discovered blood in the toilet water and on the inside of his leg. At first, Mathew thought he'd hurt himself. But then remembering heath classes from junior and senior high, he was horrified to learn that he was having his period.
This hit home and made him understand how much everything about his body, from the neck down, had changed. His height, weight and head were still those of the twenty-five year-old guy he'd been when he and Tobias had first discovered the cabin. But everything else was the body of a woman, complete with areas of his body that he couldn't see unless he used a mirror.
And he had used a mirror. Shortly after he'd discovered the blood, and after fumbling a bit to use a tampon, he examined his vulva for the first time. He'd seen a couple in real life and had seen any number of them in the skin magazines he had when he was a teenager. And, in his opinion, what he saw looked exactly like a woman's exterior genitals, with the only difference being that he had not clit, clit hood or urethra, as his vulva formed a sort of V of skin as it reached the front of his body and extended out into the ridiculously small penis he now had. Spreading the lips, Mathew noted that, for the most part, everything else appeared normal for a girl's body and thinking, "Will my penis be the next," he tried to recall how long girls were generally on the rag, as he didn't think they were all the time and that it was called a monthy because it only happened once a month.
Finished, he absently reached for a bit of toilet paper and began to pat and wipe himself down there. As he did this, he considered that the only good thing that had come out of having a monthy was that he hadn't been horny, as noted that the flushed feeling in his breasts and vulva was still present, whilst his vagina had a feeling that he could only describe as a charged, tingly sensation. Hating the foreign feelings of his body, Mathew stood and shucked off the nightshirt he had been wearing.
The changes he had undergone weren't exclusive to his body, much to his displeasure, but also to his taste in clothing. No longer able to find man's clothing comfortable, let alone appealing to wear, he'd been reduced to wearing woman's clothing. At night, he wore an oversize shirt, as sleeping naked a couple times had almost brought him to the point of experience sleep sex again.
"Mostly because of how soft, how nice, the sheet feel against my body," he groused as he reached into the shower and turned it on. Stepping in, he gasped as the blast of cold water hit him and starting to shudder, he thought about the dresses he'd been wearing, simple sundress mostly, and how he flat out refused to wear woman's panties and a bra.
"Just because I look like a woman from the neck down, doesn't mean I'll give completely in and dress like one," he savagely muttered as the water started to grow warm.
Quickly, he adjusted the temperature back to the cold setting and as the water grew frigid again, he thought how it sort of helped to take cold showers. Knowing that sooner or later he would give in to his sexual needs, Mathew wanted to prolong it as long as possibly, certain that when he did, knowing it wasn't a question of if, that the next to go would be his dick. Reaching for a loofah sponge and a body wash, he began to bathe.
Afterward, Mathew stood naked in front of the mirror. Staring at his transformed body, Mathew silently reminded himself that this would be his future when he eventually gave in. Studying his hourglass figure, how his hips, butt and thighs were more pronounced, his erect nipples and that the surrounding roundish pink area was bigger, and that his cock was the last sign that he was still somewhat a dude. Tittering, "I'm still a guy where it counts," he thought how ridiculous that sounded, as he knew that if he tucked his dick back, it completed the image that, from the neck down, he was a woman. Reaching for a towel, he began to dry himself, displeased with how good the soft terry clothe fabric felt brushing against his skin, cupping his breasts, and thrust between his legs as he dried off his vulva.
Tempted to give into the sensual sensation, he hastily tossed away the towel and exited the bathroom. Making his way back to the bedroom he'd been sleeping in, he located a dress and pulled it on. As he buttoned up the front, adjusted the spaghetti thin straps, his breasts, brushed a hand over it to smooth the fabric, he pressed the skirt portion against his penis, then between his legs. Thinking, "It would be so easy. Lie down on the bed and finger fuck myself to another orgasm," he shuddered at how good such an idea was and how soft the fabric of the dress felt. Dropping his hands, staring down at his cleavage, still unhappy that was what he saw that every time he looked down, he wondered how long he could resist, knowing what's to come and what would happen, certain that it would mean losing his cock. Wanting to cry, to lash out, to give in, to scream, Mathew stormed across the bedroom and out. Heading toward the kitchen, he struggled to push the amorous thoughts from his mind and he started to make his breakfast.