Getting to the end of your reading, you realized you’d been absentmindedly tweaking your nipples and stroking your clit as you took all this sexy information in. Embarrassed, you removed your errant fingers. You still had several hours before your girlfriend came home so you decided to explore your home and personal life a little more to see how this world’s sexuality and gender affected you personally.
In the bedroom you shared with your girlfriend subtle things were different. You had clearly swapped sides of the bed. In your world, you had subconsciously thought of yourself as her protector, and had always slept on the side of the bed closest to the door, but you had definitely woken up on the inner side the last two days. It seemed that role had been reversed. In your nightstand you found what was apparently a romance novel about a handsome he-femme princelet who was swept off his feet and ravished by a burly, bearded bull of a barbarian outlander. Why did that make you wet? Behind it, you found a truly massive double-penetration dildo—you shuddered, although you were unsure if it was with disgust or…something else. Your girlfriend’s nightstand had a weekly news magazine carelessly strewn on top, and, beside it, you noted that the remote for the bedroom tv was now apparently her domain.
Moving to the closet, you automatically looked to the right for your things, but it appears the larger left side was now yours—and it was filled with more clothes than you had ever had. Your girlfriend’s side still held a few dresses and skirts, but she seemed to favor pants & jeans. I’m your world, she had always been the one to tease you about your “floordrobe,” but several of her more recent pairs were littered on the ground. Picking up a pair for closer examination you saw it was the tight cut that showed off her fabulous butt and thighs she was so proud of, but also left substantial room in the crotch for her package, just like the boxerjock-style underwear she now favored. You blushed when you thought about how nicely she filled them out. At the back of her underwear drawer where she normally kept her comfy period panties, there were only more boxerjocks with notably larger pouches.
Your closet was full of flat-crotched jeans, and pants and shirts with a much wider variety of patterns, designs, and colors than you had ever gone for before. Your previously large graphic t-shirt collection was limited to a handful of items, neatly folded and stacked, and there were even handful of skirts. The dumpy period panties lacking from your girlfriend’s underwear drawer had taken up residence in the farther recesses of yours along with some items of a more…decorative style. There were even some bralette-like items to shield your nipples on your more sensitive and protuberant days.
Curious, you pulled on one of the lacy pieces, shivering as the silk and lace glid over your smooth legs and sat snug on your wide hips, cupping your girly mound sensually. In the bathroom, you listed after yourself in the mirror, striking a pose. The old you would have found those panties and what they encased irresistible. Somehow that made you feel sexy.
On the counter in front of you was another reversal. Whereas in your world your girlfriend rightly criticized your sloppiness in the closet, you had always been irritated by her over-usage of the bathroom counter, always full of a disorganized mess of unidentifiable beauty products, every one of which she insisted was critical. Now, her side of the sink held a few basic necessities, all neatly arranged; but yours was a morass of skin creams, face washes, toners, hair products, nipple creams, and a million other things whose name you had probably heard from your world but had no idea what they did. In the cabinet you found multiple warehouse-store-sized packs of ultra-ultra-large condoms for your girlfriend, and some pads which boasted they could hold copious amounts of pre from even the droolingest dong at the height of her rut, and for you, a similar quantity of ultra-super absorbency manpons—you were apparently a heavy bleeder.
Overwhelmed again by this new revelation, you wandered back to the living room and plopped your curvy, lace-beclad behind back down on the couch to think.