The next two hours were torture to John. With an unfamiliar body and the unfamiliar sensations coming from the two dildos locked inside him, he was constantly reminded of his situation. The toys were linked to his PSI implant, and the level of stimulation adjusted continually. He had come to the brink of orgasm several times, but never allowing him release. Masturbating himself to orgasm didn't work either. The leather chastity belt was a snug fit, and trying to apply strong pressure - by humping a sofa pillow - had resulted in the belt shocking him. The sharp pain had set a stop to that, though the realization of what he had done, how he had acted - like a bitch in heat - embarrassed and aroused him.
Jennifer had called him to check in on him after around half an hour. Her face had been full of glee at watching him squirm and moan. She had teased him, shown him her erect cock and asked him if he didn't want some real dick instead of the plastic toys inside her. John had gone beet red, but had quietly admitted that he did. Jennifer had ended the call by telling him he should call her back when the chastity belt had unlocked, before he gave himself release.
So here he was. Sitting on the edge of Jennifers bed, the webcam pointed at him. The chastity belt was off, he was sitting there naked, an empty feeling in his crotch. He could see himself on the screen as he started dialing. Jennifers body. His body. Wavy red hair past her shoulders, framing her cute and freckly face. Jennifer was 22, eight years his junior, but she looked even younger, with her thin, short frame. Small, firm breasts, flat tummy, not very much hips to speak of. And resting between her legs, a smooth, hairless pussy. He stared at the figure on the screen mimicking his every move, as he bit his finger playfully, let it slide down to his breast. Felt himself up, circled his nipple, and gave it a little pinch. He slid his hand further down, still following the figure with his eyes. He spread his legs, and as his hand reached its destination he looked down. Over the two small mounds with their stiff nipples, at Jennifers pussy. At his pussy. Looking down at himself like this, touching his pussy, something in his mind switched. For the first time, he realized his femininity. He actually felt like a girl. He felt like he was Jennifer. No. Like she was Jennifer. Yes. She was Jennifer, at least for now. And she was a naughty little girl who deserved punishment, and deserved to be used.
Jennifer leaned back and started fantasizing. "Please, sir, fuck me hard," she whispered to herself as she massaged her clit. She hadn't expected a reply.
"It will be my pleasure. Tomorrow."
Jennifer bolted upright again, and looked to the screen to see Jen... John staring at her. If she was Jennifer now, she would have to think of him as John.
"Please, don't stop on my account," he said. "I wanted to see the show. So... I'm 'sir' already. Well, in that case, girl, tell me what you'd want me to do to you right now."
"Sir," Jennifer said, too far gone in her arousal to really care. "I'd like you to fuck me hard. I'd like you to flip me over to my tummy, wrench my arms up behind my back, press my head down in the bed with your other hand, and pound me until I'm raw. I want to feel you come inside me, I want you to... ah, oh, ah... I'm coming!" And she was over the edge, lost in the sensations of an orgasm that had been building for several hours. Writhing, spasming, moaning and yelling.
Regaining her composure, she felt entirely spent. She looked up at the screen, at John. He looked back at her. "Oh, I will certainly do that. That and more."
"Sir," she said. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow."