Becoming My Best Friend’s Crush Ch. 4

Natalia woke up from an intense erotic dream pressing her right hand between her legs. She must have been touching herself while dreaming, but the feeling between her legs was like nothing she’d ever felt before. There was a great swelling there, as though she were expanding, throbbing, protruding out of herself. But how could that be possible?

Not to mention she wasn’t touching herself how she normally did. Instead of sliding her fingertips over her clit as she’d done so many times before, she now felt her hand gripping and squeezing something…something that felt like a large, erect, and throbbing —

“What the fuck?” she said aloud, but instead of her own feminine voice, she heard a low voice, a man’s voice, and it was definitely coming out of her throat.

She threw back the blankets and screamed in surprise as she looked downward to see a large, cotton-covered tent standing out of her underwear-clad crotch.

For obvious reasons this sight immediately drew her attention, but there was so much else wrong with the scenario. For one thing, the underwear she was wearing – men’s gray boxer briefs – were nothing like the tiny panties she’d gone to sleep in. And instead of her muscular, smoothly shaven legs she saw a pair of masculine legs covered in dark hair. She touched her torso, her waist, her chest where she was surprised to find no breasts to speak of. She was touching the body of a man. A nicely fit, slim, muscular man, but a man nonetheless.

She tried to calm her mind so that she could figure out just what the hell was going on, but it was difficult to think clearly, filled as she was with so much desire – with this aching hard-on throbbing up out of her crotch. Unable to stop herself, she again squeezed the impressive cock, and felt a pleasure the likes of which she’d never before experienced.

It was practically tearing through the fabric of her underwear, and she had an urge to throw her underwear off and start stroking the nearly uncomfortably erect thing right there.

But with a valiant effort, she tried to put her lustful thoughts aside, jumping out of bed and taking a look around. The disorienting things were too many to count – where was she? And who was this cute, slender but muscular young man staring at her in the mirror with the nice abs and the prominent hard-on?

She moved her right hand up to her hair, and saw the man move his hand up to the dark hair that hung down to his defined cheekbone. He was handsome in a delicate way, and he looked familiar to her somehow. She grabbed the waistband of her shorts and saw the man in the mirror make the same action. Then she readied herself and yanked them down.

“Ah!” she heard her voice, now low and manly in her throat as she saw her long, erect cock spring out, feeling the strange vertigo of understanding somehow that this was her body, this lithe, male torso, this impossibly stiff cock sticking upwards over a patch of dark pubic hair, these balls hanging below…

“OK, OK, don’t panic, just figure out where you are,” she thought to herself.

But as she slowed her breathing and became calmer, she began to feel her desire grow even more – almost completely clouding her mind. She needed to do something about it, and needed to do it now.

And before she knew it, as though by instinct, she had spat in her hand and begun to stroke her new cock slowly savoring the feeling of her palm sliding down over the aching slab of flesh. It was a brand new feeling for her – to be able to wrap her fingers around her own long, hard cock, and enjoy the incredible sensation both from the outside (which she was very used to) but now also from within. She gave herself over to the same instinctual urge, which now caused her to stroke faster, concentrating on the underside of the head which felt incredible.

She could hear her voice moaning now, low, involuntary, and opened her eyes to see her newfound self jacking off and, wow, did she look sexy. Her new face was handsome with clear skin, icy blue eyes, and sharply defined cheekbones and it looked so sweetly serious as she went about her task. The veins in her arms stood out as she jacked her cock, and the defined pec muscles bulged with each stroke.

As she watched and appreciated this new body of hers, and the look of strained desire on this man’s (her own?) face, all of a sudden, she felt an intensity like nothing she’d ever experienced, and the hot flesh in her hand swelled now even larger, even larger as she felt her balls tighten and…

“Oh, fuck!” she yelled out as she felt warmth radiating up through her groin and outward where she saw her cock begin to shoot out streams of thick, white sperm wildly, uncontrollably all over the mirror.

Geez, it was getting everywhere, but in her deeply horny state she didn’t care at all — she just kept jacking it and jacking it, getting out every last drop until the convulsions that wracked her body had subsided and she fell back on the bed in a satiated stupor.

Well, that was fun. And messy. She felt her mind come back to her, clearer now. And then the panic begin to rise again. Just what in the actual fuck was going on!

She started to look around the room, searching for clues to her identity. The room was clean, ordered, and sparsely but tastefully decorated. Looking at the photos on the dresser, she saw a photo of her new self together with a good looking athletic guy who also looked familiar. That’s it! She must have seen them around the gym. They were both pretty cute, though she preferred the friend – he was super hot. In fact as she looked at the photo she felt herself begin to harden again.

This made her wonder about the sexual proclivities of this man she found herself somehow inhabiting. If she was now a man, why was she was still attracted to men and not women?

Looking closely at the photo, she thought she could detect something about the way he was looking at his friend, something that might indicate a…stronger feeling than just friendship.

Curious, she began to look through the room — opening drawers, rifling through the closet. Bingo! Under some old sweaters in a drawer in a closet was a dog-eared, well used magazine on the cover of which was a ripped, oiled up stud sporting a hefty, semi-erect schlong barely hidden by a pair of tiny black speedos. She flipped through the pages and saw hot guys in various states of undress performing sex acts on one another.

One image caught her eye and she lingered on it – two hot, ripped guys, both nude, one blond and one with close cropped dark hair, making out with open mouths, each with his hand around the other’s hard cock. She was practically drooling.

Through the haze of her lust, she realized how strange this feeling was. For one thing, she’d never been that turned on by seeing photos of guys, but now she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Also, though she loved men and had what she considered to be a very healthy sex life, she’d never found herself attracted to the idea of two men being together sexually – usually, if she was honest, it kind of grossed her out – but now she couldn’t get enough of the idea. Not only had that aching, stretching, deliciously full feeling returned to her new package, but she also felt a throbbing from within her – a familiar feeling of wanting to be penetrated, but now somehow emanating from a different, deeper place. She felt herself blush as she realized what this could mean.

Willfully pulling herself away, she realized that something about inhabiting this body must be influencing her sexual desires as well. Clearly she was taking on some of this man’s (or his body’s?) deepest sexual desires – namely, to be with men and, she realized with a deeper throb to her member, to be fucked by guys.

“Ugh – OK – get yourself together, Natalia!” she thought. What was going on? She was a super sexual person, but this inability to stop obsessing over sex for even a moment was something she’d never experienced. She needed to stop this nonsense.

With determination, she continued her search through the closet only finding more clothes.

On the desk in the corner of the room she found a pair of pants draped over a chair, in whose pockets she found a wallet containing a driver’s license with a cute photo of her new self, and the name “Nathan,” along with a birthdate telling her she was 22 years old. She also saw his address, which was in a neighborhood she recognized.

She began to rummage through the desk, soon coming across a notebook which she quickly gleaned was Nathan’s journal. Reading through it quickly, she learned a bit more about this young man. The picture painted by the entries was quite sad – here was a guy who was clearly smitten with his best friend, Jacob (and if that was the guy in the photo, who could blame him?) lovingly describing every part of him, and Nathan’s deep obsession to be with him sexually, something that could never happen.

And not only that, but he would barely admit even to himself that he liked guys even though it was plain as day. When he did admit his attraction to men, even the slightest bit, it was always accompanied by some phrase like, “No one can know,” or, “Why can’t I be normal?”

She felt bad for Nathan. She had plenty of gay friends in town and knew that once they fully admitted that truth to themselves, their lives became so much happier (not to mention they started to have a LOT more sex).

Nathan was so cute, she felt certain there would be a ton of guys who’d be into him if he were just open with himself. She wondered if there was anything she could do to help him along. And then, without meaning to, she felt her mind fall back to that cloudy, horny state that seemed to be this new body’s default mode — filling with images of Jacob, shirtless and working out, muscles straining; and other gorgeous men, kissing, jacking each other off, and fucking, glistening with sweat.

Well, it was clear that she had to do something for Nathan – it wasn’t healthy to be this obsessed and not to do anything about it!