My breasts stood a good four inches out from my body, small handfuls of flesh. I felt the smooth roundness of my hips, my ribcage felt smaller, tighte.... I felt my crotch. Only a mound of hair, a thick mound of hair, and nothing else. No penis. The room spun. I blacked out again to the faint tittering noises of the women around me. When I awoke moments later the women were picking the last vestiges of the grey webbing from my body. They surrounded me, hung over me, a dozen beautiful women, all. “Conor was a dick,” she explained. “I know that now. And whenever he was mean to me, you were there to pick up the pieces. And how did I repay you? I pushed you away. I like you, John. I like you a lot.” Never one to ruin a good moment by talking. I picked her up and pinned her against the wall, thrusting myself against her and enjoying the moans I was eliciting. She clutched wildly at my hair and began removing my shirt. Not wishing to be unjust, I helped, and then stood back and took off my. More

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