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  • What We Really Want Ch. 03

What We Really Want Ch. 03

12

"Okay, hold on," I said, trying not to sound too annoyed. "I'm sorry, but I don't speak medical talk. Can you just give it to me in...like, layman's terms, I guess?"

It had been a week since I'd woken up and discovered my little (or not so little) side effect. To their credit, when I'd called the people at the lab about it, they'd been very understanding and apologetic, if more than a little shocked—they'd gotten me in to be checked out by a doctor right away, and made sure all the tests I'd had to get had gone through as fast as possible. Monday, the day after the problem started, I'd emailed in sick to all my professors (not telling them the details of the situation, of course) and, after getting back from my checkup, stayed home under Claire's watchful care. By Tuesday morning, though, it was clear to me that I wouldn't be able to hide until everything was taken care of—I couldn't afford to miss that much class, and my friends would start to wonder what had happened to me. And, since I didn't seem to have any debilitating symptoms, there was really no reason not to go on with my life. So, off I went back to my usual routine, trying to ignore how weird it felt to walk around everywhere with a dick stuffed into my underwear.

Although, honestly, it wasn't that hard. I mean, thinking about it, I don't know why I'd expected it to be—guys do it all the time, after all. The only really annoying part was having to hide erections, and as long as I wasn't wearing a skirt or yoga pants or anything like that, it wasn't too difficult to just sort of tuck it off to the side so it didn't show. I made it to the weekend feeling that my life had taken a very strange turn, but confident, at least, that I hadn't let on to anyone that anything was wrong.

Now, it was Sunday again, and I was in the middle of my follow-up appointment with Doctor Fiona Marseilles, the mind behind the project that had started all this. We'd corresponded by email a few times since I'd first signed on for the tests, and she seemed nice enough—middle-aged, with an attitude that some people would probably call motherly, but put me more in mind of a cool aunt who helped you get away with stuff your mom wouldn't approve of. Just the sort of woman you'd expect to see developing a female aphrodisiac, in other words.

She sighed in a deflating way as I cut her off from her explaining. "Fair enough," she acquiesced, nodding. "Well, the general gist of it is pretty much what we guessed when you first came in. Somehow, the drug changed your hormonal state to make you develop male genitals alongside your female ones. As far as we can tell, the new organs are fully functional, meaning you could theoretically conceive with someone of either sex. Also as far as we can tell, the changes seem to be benign, so there's no risk to your health—which is good, because it gives us as much time as we need to work out a treatment."

I nodded back. "And you think you'll be able to? Figure out a treatment, I mean?"

"Well, we can't guarantee anything," she said cautiously. "This is experimental stuff we're working with, and none of us ever expected anything like these results—nothing like this has ever happened before, to anyone. That said, I'm confident we'll find a way to reverse all your symptoms. And if we can't, there are surgical options to consider, which would get you at least some results. But, again, I'm reasonably sure that won't be needed."

I shuddered at the thought of someone sticking a blade between my legs, even if it was to get rid of something that shouldn't have been there. Doctor Marseilles smiled reassuringly, leaning forward across her desk to lay a hand on my shoulder. "Jill, it's gonna be okay. Don't worry. We're gonna take care of you." Part of me wanted to be angry at her. After all, accident or no, this whole thing was her mistake. But I couldn't do it. She'd never meant to hurt me, and her understanding really did make me feel better—she was good at that. Returning her gaze, I managed a smile, and she sat back in her chair again, apparently satisfied.

A question wandered into my mind. I almost stayed quiet, unsure how it would come across, but hell, she'd just opened up to me, as much as I could've expected—I could put myself out there a little. "So, okay," I began, a little hesitant, "you said the changes aren't causing any health problems?"

"None that we can spot," the doctor replied. "Granted, it's possible something might come up further down the road, but we can't find any indication of that now."

"So, hypothetically," I pressed on, trying to sound like it didn't really matter, "like, if you can't come up with a treatment, I could just stay like this? And it wouldn't hurt me?"

She lifted an eyebrow over her glasses. "Uh, well...I mean, I guess you could. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I said quickly, shaking my head. "Just curious."

"Okay," she replied, seeming confused, but apparently deciding not to press. "Well, anyway, I think that's everything you need to know for now. We'll get to work on a treatment for you, and get in touch with you again when we have something. Oh, and I'm sure you could've guessed," she chuckled, "but we'll be taking you off the testing for the main project. Obviously, we'll still pay you the full compensation we agreed to. Any other questions you had?"

The thought occurred to me that if Claire and her lawyers had their way, Marseilles would probably end up paying me a lot more than that. But I saw no need to bring that up. "Nah, nothing comes to mind," I said, standing up and reaching out for a handshake. "Thanks for your help."

The doctor rose and shook, smiling with a tinge of regret. "It's no trouble. See you soon, hopefully."

As I turned to leave, her voice stopped me. "Jill," she said, a note of restrained enthusiasm in her words, "as much as I regret this happening to you, I...well, I hope you realize how important this could be. I mean, these kinds of effects...it's revolutionary. It could change people's lives." I turned around in time to see her sigh and shake her head. "I'm not sure I should be saying that, but...I guess, I hope it makes you feel better."

I didn't really need her to make me feel better, but I managed a smile and a nod anyway. "Yeah, I get it. Thanks again." We said our last polite goodbyes, and I left.

*****

The smell of cooking meat and the sizzling of pans greeted me as I pushed open the apartment door.

Inside, they were joined by the sound of Claire at work in the kitchen. I had to smile as I shrugged off my backpack and locked the door behind me. Claire hated cooking, though she'd never have admitted it to me. When we'd first moved in here, and were dividing up chores, I'd offered to do all of it, but she wouldn't let me, insisting at least on taking equal turns. I'd argued for a little while, but not too hard. Honestly, I wasn't the biggest fan of cooking either, and I'd be the first to admit she was better at it. The smell of whatever she was making that night made my mouth water. I found my feet carrying me to the kitchen on autopilot, determined to know what it was.

The sight that met me broadened my smile. Framed by the doorway, Claire presided over the stove with her back to me; except for her red apron, she was naked, the tie in the back forming a bow right over her ass in that way that managed to be both adorable and sexy as fuck. I felt the now almost familiar sensation of my dick starting to strain against my panties as I went up behind her and wrapped my arms around her middle, pressing against her back. "Hey, babe," I said. "What's cooking?"

I felt her let out a relaxed sigh. "Thought I'd try something new," she said happily. "Sirloin with white wine and rosemary. Found the recipe online."

"Mmm," I replied, pressing myself against her a little more—my hips in particular. "Sounds delicious."

She chuckled softly, which made her chest move in a way that felt wonderful to hold. "No distracting me now, sweetie," she chided. "It's not done."

I affected a pout and let her go, sad all the same. "You're no fun," I grumbled. "Well, if you get to be naked, so do I."

"No argument here," she said with another chuckle, though I'd already started pulling off my top. This was one of the reasons having our own place was worth all the work—we both loved stripping off and letting it all hang out after a tiring day of adult responsibilities. Of course, since my change, I'd had rather more to let hang out than Claire. At the moment, though, it wasn't doing much hanging—that little bout of flirting had gotten my unexpected guest to full mast easily. I sighed with relief as it sprung free of my panties, then, on an impulse, swayed my hips a little, enjoying the feeling of my erection and balls swinging back and forth. Luckily, it hadn't taken long for my brain to adjust the thing's sensitivity so I could wear panties when I did need to. The first pair I'd put on had gotten creamed inside of five minutes. The memory made my cock twitch even now.

My private life hadn't changed much more than my public one since the accident. Claire definitely seemed to have been telling the truth about her feelings regarding my dick. We were having sex as often as ever—more, if anything—and, because I could trust her not to be uncomfortable about my new body, it was still just as easy to be open with each other about our natural, healthy urges, something we'd always agreed was essential. She'd even gone and picked up a birth control prescription. After our little initial scare, we'd tried using a condom, but weighed against the pleasure of doing it bare, it had been found wanting.

"So did you see the doctor again?" Claire said over her shoulder, as I finished tossing aside my clothes.

"Yeah," I replied, flopping down on the couch in the adjacent living room. "Good news, far as it goes. No harmful symptoms, and they're pretty sure they can whip something up to fix it. Oh, and it turns out my balls do work, so it's good you've been on the pill."

"Hang on," Claire cut in. "Pretty sure? So they don't know?"

I shrugged, though she couldn't see it. "Well, I mean, this is the first time anything like this has ever happened. Uncharted territory. They can't know anything for sure until they try it."

She was silent for a long moment, and I had a vivid mental image of her crushing the pepper grinder to pieces in one hand without looking down. Suddenly, I wondered if maybe I should've sugar-coated things a little.

"Babe—" I started, stretching up to look over the side of the couch.

"I am going to sue that woman for everything she cares about," I heard her say, in her iciest voice. "I will have her stripped of her degree, thrown out on the street, and— "

"Hey!" I snapped. "Claire, we talked about this. This isn't her fault. And I thought you didn't mind me being like this?"

"That's not the point," she protested, spinning around, her brow swiftly darkening. "Her incompetence put you at risk. Sure, you're safe, but you could have gotten seriously sick. You could have died—"

"Okay," I tried to interrupt, "that's a bit of a stretch—"

"And now," she went on, not skipping a beat, "she can't even guarantee being able to fix what she did? She feels no guilt over the possibility of leaving you with permanent changes you never asked for? And you're telling me you're okay with—"

"Claire!" I cried, pointing behind her. "The stove!"

The anger fell from her face, and she spun around, just in time to see the pan of sirloin catch fire. "Shit!" she spat, leaping to pull it off the stove and turn off the burner. While she did, I ran back in and dove into the cabinet to find a pot lid, which I quickly passed up to her. She slammed it down over the flame; for a few seconds, smoke streamed from the edges, then it fell still.

We stood there silently for a moment, catching our breaths. "Well," I finally said, "Wanna order Chinese?"

Claire's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," she said meekly. "I shouldn't have gotten upset—"

Before she could finish, I pulled her into a sideways hug. "Babe, it's fine," I said. "I get it."

"I really am okay with you being like this," she went on. "You know that, right? That's not what I was—"

"I know," I said, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

She was silent for a moment, then embraced me back.

"You will be cooking again tomorrow night, though," I said, finding myself suddenly grinning. "I wanna try that stuff."

I didn't need to look up to see Claire smile. "If you insist."

*****

Later that night, we found ourselves sprawled naked on the couch, eating a delicious meal from our favorite Chinese place. I used a fork, because chopsticks were beyond my skills.

"So, babe," I piped up, after taking a moment to gather my courage. "How would you feel about me maybe staying like this?"

Claire swallowed another bite of sesame chicken. "Jill, don't worry about that. They'll figure out a treatment. I'm sure they will."

I hesitated, biting my lip. "No," I finally said. "I mean, like, on purpose."

Next to me, Claire froze with her chopsticks midway to her mouth. It looked like she was half expecting me to say "just kidding". When I didn't, she returned her next bite to the carton, turning to regard me with a confused expression. "Um...would you want to do that?"

I sucked in a breath through my teeth, trying to figure out how to say what I thought. "I mean...maybe?" Shaking my head, I scooted forward on the cushion to deposit my carton of fried rice on the coffee table. "I guess...well, I've just been thinking..."

I stopped, shook my head again, settled back in my former position. "Okay," I started again. "You know I've always kinda been into the whole girls with dicks thing, right? And, I mean, yeah, I never would've seriously wanted to be like that myself before, but I've been wondering...maybe that's just 'cause it never occurred to me that it'd be possible? And this whole week...like, when it first happened, you know, I was like 'oh God, my life is gonna suck now', but then I guess I started to get adjusted to it, and...it's actually not that hard? I mean, yeah, I have to be careful what kind of bottoms I wear, but other than that, it hasn't really been causing me any problems, and nobody's seemed to notice it or acted weird or anything..."

Claire still wore her slightly confused expression, but she was nodding slowly along.

"And also," I continued, not wanting to slow down for fear of losing my momentum, "the sex has been, like, amazing. I mean, it's exactly like all the stories and hentai and stuff." At that, I did find myself slowing down a little. "I mean, you've been enjoying it, right?"

Claire nodded. "Well, I don't know if I'd say it's better, necessarily, but it's at least as good."

"Yeah, okay," I said. I got the feeling she was being careful how she spoke to avoid pushing me one way or the other, but that was just what I'd have expected of her. "So, yeah...I mean, it's not like I'm definitely sure, but...it's something I've been considering, y'know?"

"You sound kind of sure to me," she countered—not upset, just curious, wanting to understand.

"Well, I..." I paused for another breath, thinking. "I mean, it's not like I have any problem with my normal body either, y'know? I just..." I heaved a sigh and closed my eyes, trying to focus. "Part of me wants to go back to what I had, and part is just like 'what the hell, take this chance and make the most of it'. I dunno. Like I said, I'm not sure." Point made, I opened my eyes again, looking expectantly back at Claire. "So, I just want to know...what do you think? Like, what would you want me to do?"

Claire frowned thoughtfully for a second, looking like she was doing some serious mulling. "I think," she finally said, "that's a choice you'll have to make yourself. I mean, it's your body. As long as your health isn't in danger, you can do what you want with it. And this is kind of a big decision." Her face brightened. "But I mean what I've been saying. I love you just as much this way. And whatever you want to do, I'll be behind you one hundred percent."

Emotion welled up in my chest, and I leaned over to pull Claire into a sesame-flavored kiss. "Thanks, babe. I love you too."

The evening rolled on as we finished our dinner, talking about less important things.

*****

My wake-up call the next morning couldn't have been more different from the one I'd received just over a week ago, on the day this had all started.

I emerged from the dark and warmth slowly, gently, lingering in that blissful half-waking twilight where you can't quite tell what's real and don't really care. The reality I surfaced in was close enough to blur the distinction even more. The early morning light filtering through the blinds revealed Claire lying next to me, though with my arms wrapped around her and my body pressed against her back, our legs tangled, I didn't need to see her to know she was there. With a wordless murmur of contentment, I pulled myself tighter against her, burying my face in her neck and breathing deep of her scent. She still smelled like her perfume.

The slow, steady rise and fall of her chest told me she was still asleep. I knew she'd have to get up soon, too soon, to go to her office. Forcing myself to forget about that, about the world beyond this bed, I settled in to enjoy the time we had left.

Shifting my position to get more comfortable, I noticed something: my cock, pressed firmly against the small of Claire's back, was rock-hard. And, now that I was aware of it, I realized just how hot this moment was making me. My thighs were soaked.

A devilish grin spread across my face. Claire and I had made it clear long ago that neither of us had any problem being woken up with some polite touching. Well, if that was what my true love wanted, then by golly, who was I to refuse?

My hands wandered from their place around Claire's tummy. The left went up, seeking her breast, fingers sinking into the wondrously soft flesh in that way she loved. Right followed a different path, down between those luscious thighs. As my fingertips brushed feather-light over her lips, Claire let out a sleepy little moan, muffled by her pillow; it was just about the most adorable thing I'd ever heard. I found her already dewy. Whatever she was dreaming about, it looked like she was enjoying it.

I stretched up a little to lay a kiss on her neck as I went to work. First, I contented myself with just playing with her lips, letting them slip between my fingertips, up, down, soft as silk and so hot. Claire let out another moan, longer and more pronounced; when she started shifting her hips in her sleep, I knew I couldn't keep her waiting any longer.

Grinning wider than ever, I started in on the good stuff. My questing fingers found her clit, swollen and hard; I rubbed in little circles, slow at first, coating it with accumulated wetness, then faster, harder. With my left hand, I massaged and kneaded her breast, sprinkling lines of kisses up and down her neck all the while. Her breathing sped up, every other breath coming out a little whimper of want. I could hardly remember ever feeling more powerful. Here she was, completely vulnerable, and I was playing her like a harp. A nice little reversal of our usual dynamic. I hoped mama wouldn't punish me when she woke up...that thought made me speed up my ministrations.

Eventually, though, it became clear that just her clit wouldn't be enough. With Claire squirming and moaning in my arms, still asleep, I gave her what I knew she'd want: I slipped my middle finger inside her. Softness, warmth, and wetness enveloped me. Since growing a cock, I'd come to appreciate Claire's pussy in a whole new way—even fingering her felt different. Was that weird? Maybe. But I knew she loved it.

12
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