Turnabout Institute

Like clockwork, Polly knocked on the door. She helped me pick out a cute little purse to tote my room card and Linda's wallet. I did a slow turn for Polly who applauded, "You're a natural, Linda!" she stated most convincingly. I noted that she was no longer wearing her Institute uniform.

"After dinner starts, I'm going home. Technically I'm already off duty." After a pause, she added cryptically, "Besides, there are too many temptations if I stick around."

We strode to the elevator at the other end of the hallway. A group of men and women, all dressed flashily, waited to enter with us. A male voice said, "Somebody smells mighty good!" I gazed upward at the sound of the voice. He was tall and dark, maybe Greek or Italian, a lot more handsome than a young Sylvester Stallone. He winked at me and I smiled and nodded at him. Was this a regular guy or a woman living in a guy's body temporarily. Suddenly I realized that there was no way to tell! I assumed that everybody here was for treatment but I could not swear to it. What did "his" wink mean. Was "he" a lesbian, appreciating me "that" way, or a straight woman appreciating me in a slightly different way? I didn't know and suddenly I didn't care. What was gender anyway?

There was what appeared to be a pretty good live band tuning up in one corner of the low-lit ballroom. Across the dance floor was a very long bar. Polly helped me find my table. There was a place card for "Linda Pittman." For the next two weeks, that is who I would be. There was a tall blond man with a broad face at the table as well as a dark haired guy who was a bit portly and an Amazon tall, redheaded woman who looked like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. We all introduced ourselves, mostly limiting ourselves to first names only. Polly and the other Institute attendants bid a hasty retreat after about ten minutes. Our menu cards gave us three options, prime rib, cob salad, and stew, or fillet of sole. Dying for a steak, but conscious of Linda's waistline, I ordered the salad when the waitress showed up. I also ordered a draft beer. No way, was I going to drink any of that frothy stuff Linda carefully rations through dinner.

Conversations came slowly until I asked everyone what their partner did for a living, meaning that everyone could talk about themselves. The redhead, whose name was Connie, stated, "Ted is a professional photographer for high fashion magazines and lingerie catalogs, I'm positive your husband has seen my work." she said to me with a wink.

I talked about "Jim's" work at the plant and warehouse. The men were equally forthcoming about their wives careers. Dinner came in record time and we were soon chatting like old friends. I was surprised at how quickly this had all become normal. Then the band began playing in earnest and the portly dark-haired guy, named Guy asked, "Care to dance, Linda?"

I didn't know what to do for a moment. Out of the corner of my eyes, I spied other couples hitting the dance floor so I accepted his extended hand. When he stood up, I realized how tall he was. Actually, it may have been, I realized once more how short I had become. Despite having to lose at least fifteen pounds, he was not bad looking, not that I'm much of a judge when it comes to guys. We danced a fast number. It was not too different from any number of parties at home. Then the band slowed down. Before I could beg off, Guy embraced me and tried to follow the beat. It was strange doing all the familiar steps in reverse. It wasn't helped at all by the fact that Guy held me far tighter and closer than necessary. I could smell his cologne and his gut kept pressing up to me. He inhaled and stated,

"Gee, Linda you smell great! What is that fragrance?"

"Surrender" I replied.

Guy laughed and said, "There are different ways to take that, Linda."

"No offense Guy, but you are not really my type."

"The night's still young, gorgeous."

As quickly as I could, I made my way to the bar. I had a second beer. I wasn't imagining things, I was starting to get tipsy. Oh yeah, much smaller body mass but same drinking desire, I realized. While I was standing at the bar just watching, a really beautiful brown-haired woman came up to me. "I love your outfit," she stated.

"Thank you," I replied. I took a very long look at her. She was the kind of woman I really liked. She wore a white satin sheath dress, with a slit up one leg. Her huge boobs were practically spilling out of the bodice of the dress and her face was nearly as lovely as Connie's from dinner. She had a middle-eastern look about her, the darker skin contrasting beautifully with the white dress. I was enthralled immediately. I tried to ignore the fact that she was much taller than me.

"It's Fatima. If you value your life you won't shorten it to "Fat."'

"Not for the life of me, Fatima. I'm Linda by the way."

"Pleased to meet you, Linda."

She stepped very close to me. I felt the erotic charge immediately.

"I must say, you are the cutest little thing, Linda."

"I'm six foot three when I stand on my charisma, Darling!" I shot back.

"Calm down, Linda I meant that as a compliment. I can tell that you find me attractive as well."

"I won't argue that fact, Fatima."

"Linda, this party is a nice idea but would you care to get a bit more daring?"

"What do you mean?"

"A more intimate gathering, smaller."

At that point I noted Guy searching the room, obviously looking for me. That was all of the encouragement I needed to make my exit. I grabbed another bottle of beer from the bar and said,

"Sure, Fatima, I'd follow you anywhere."

Fatima took my hand and we made our way down a first-floor hallway to a suite of one of the expensive rooms.

"I found a sixth player!" announced Fatima as we entered the room.

"Sixth player for what? I asked Fatima as the door closed behind us

"Strip poker, silly!"

My mouth fell open in surprise for a moment and then I took in the other occupants of the room. Seated around the table were four of the most gorgeous people I had ever seen. The guys were pure studs, Two white guys, and one black guy all obviously finely muscled under their tailored jackets. The other woman was every bit as lovely as Fatima or Connie, her long blonde hair reminded me of honey. On a couch were an assortment of people who were clearly not players, they were the audience. Already some of them were necking, paring off, in every combination.

"Linda wouldn't like this." I thought, followed immediately by "Linda isn't here!"

My open mouth turned into a smile and I said slyly, "Deal me in!" a little cheer went up from the room. We arraigned ourselves about the card table, boy girl, boy, girl and someone cut the deck. The guy at the head of the table was obviously the chief occupant of this suit of rooms. I thought I recognized him from television, he was either an actor or an athlete, I could not place which. The delectable blonde I recognized as a runner-up in one of those inane reality programs. I wasn't a fan of the show, but Linda could not live without it, so I got roped into watching. The blonde was even more beautiful, if that's possible, off camera. Abstractly, I wondered who was inside that alluring skull. With a start, I realized that I had neglected to don Linda's rings. Well, it was too late now.

Now, I had supplemented my college tuition by regularly cleaning out my fraternity brothers and lacrosse teammates at poker, but I soon discovered that the people around the table were quite skilled players. I bet my left shoe and lost it immediately. I held onto my right shoe a bit longer. The guys ran out of shoes, ties, and socks and the pneumatic blonde woman was quickly down to her underwear. I lost my maroon top and felt good at the wolf whistles from the peanut gallery. My now heavier buzz was taking the edge off my abilities, still, I persevered.

All of the guys lost their jackets and shirts. Man, were they ever cut. The blond guy's tribal tattoo on his bicep finally allowed me to place him. He was a recently retired NFL player, one of the smart ones. He got his money up front, won two Superbowls, and had retired while still had all his faculties. I wondered what woman he had entrusted his body to IF he had. I also understood why all guests of Turnabout Institute had to sign non-disclosure agreements.

Possibly the most skilled player at the table, Fatima, after sacrificing her heels and nylons, finally lost her dress. Her boobs were spectacular, large and luscious with really cute areolas and pink nipples like the eraser end of a pencil. She got a partial standing ovation from the peanut gallery. I lost my belt and skirt in rapid succession. I heard a lot of "Nice legs!" as I deposited my skirt in the pile. Fatima's panties joined the pot of clothing on the table, revealing a satiny exclamation point. Boy, was I turned on! Unabashed, Fatima held her hands above her head and did a slow pirouette before the very hungry eyeballs of the room. It became clear the contest was mainly between me and our huge blond host.

After miraculously retaining her panties far longer than her skill at poker merited, the blonde reality star finally lost her last vestige of modesty and wiggled out of her panties revealing a beautifully shaved pussy. A job that smooth was undoubtedly waxed. I so wanted to lick her to find out. The black guy lost his briefs, revealing a respectable uncut cock. The blonde reality TV star was soon seated on his lap in one of the unoccupied chairs of the suite and promptly engaged in heavy petting.

The other guy, a dark-haired Canadian with a Quebecois accent lost his micro briefs and got an instant boner. He moved to the peanut gallery. The blonde dude (or dudette) was down to his silk boxers and I had just my bra and panties. The crowd cheered when I lost my bra. I felt my nipples pucker in the cooler air, and decided that it was one of life's greatest sensations. There were wolf whistles and applause at my topless state as well as a few "About times!" from the audience. It was down to the final round. One of us would be naked and the other would own the sacrificed clothing His boxers versus my panties. The beers were really starting to hit hard. The cards passed from blurry to crystal clear as I held them.

Tensions in the room mounted. I had two pairs but no high numbers. My earlier goal of hoping for a straight was lost. At last the blond pro smiled and said, "I call!" He placed down an Ace high full house! I flushed with color and froze.

"Come on, Linda! Pay up!"

Lots of things flashed through my mind. Linda was ordinarily rather shy. She like dressing sexily but drew the line at public exposure. Early in our marriage, we had gone camping with two other couples. At this beautiful waterfall, a skinny dipping party broke out. Linda went as far as her panties and bra. While I subtly eyed the naked glory of the wives of two of my best friends, I saw the frustration in their eyes that Linda would not return the favor. I felt a little guilty exposing Linda's body to strangers, but she never had to find out. I tried to smile as I tugged down my last garment and added it to the pile.

The beer was really hitting hard now I wobbled for a second on my feet before Fatima embraced me.

"Welcome to Club Naked, cutie" she said to me and then her lips were on mine. I was a girl, kissing a girl, and I liked it! Fatima is strong, she hefted me off the ground for a fraction of a second as she held me tightly. Somehow or other, we ended up on the bed in the next room. Fatima's sweet kisses were fantastic, she began working down my body, encircling each of my nipples with her tongue and teeth in turn. God did that feel so much better for a woman than for a guy! I forced myself to relax as Fatima's torrid mouth moved lower and lower. She circled my navel and then parted my legs and started eating me out! I had NO idea how delightful that could feel. It did not take her long to find my clitoris and work it like a pro. This was way better than the dildo. Rather gracelessly, Fatima turned herself about and suddenly her pussy was inches away from my face.

Even though this, theoretically at least, made me a lesbian, I did not mind in the least. I licked the length of Fatima's trimmed exclamation point and then plunged my own tongue into her succulent nearly completely bald box. She tasted heavenly! If I was to become Linda full time, I knew damn well which of her girlfriends I would be trying to get into bed. Linda had never complained about my technique and Fatima's encouraging sounds and body language certainly seemed to be a fan of my oral gifts as well. Fatima broke contact with my pussy to call some other woman's name before bringing me to climax. Then my cherry was popped. It was fantastic. At this point I should probably have been wondering what Linda was up to in my body. She's a lot more social than I am, but that suddenly did not seem to matter ...

Fatima's face was above mine again. We exchanged a deep kiss and Fatima said, "Thank you, Linda. That was terrific. Can I give you a massage?" I agreed and after a long period of just embracing and exchanging sweet soft kisses, Fatima found some moisturizer and began massaging my new body head to toe. In our marriage, it had almost always been me providing the massages to Linda. I'm pretty skilled at that. My quest had been since day one to try and please Linda and put her first in everything. It felt wonderful to be the one being pampered for a change.

After doing my back, Fatima had me roll over and began working my front side. I noted the delight in her face as she caressed my body. The beers really had me buzzed and willing to just fall asleep under her gentle touch. But, I fought off the sandman. If it had been just me and Linda I already would have been in slumber land. The strange surroundings, the own strangeness of Linda's body kept me alert somehow. Fatima's caresses of my thighs and my sex were astonishing. I felt positive that men had been shortchanged everywhere carnally. Again Fatima's face appeared above mine.

"You so very pretty little thing. I wish I could keep you."

I felt Fatima's large soft breasts pressing against my own. The whole length of her felt great against my body. With a glimmer in her eye, she began kissing her way down my body a second time. It was just as terrific. We got each other off a second time, my buzz giving everything the feel of one of those movie scenes when they shoot the lovers through gauze and Vaseline.

I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them again it was very late. Stung by sudden tremendous guilt. I felt that I just had to get back to my room. Fatima was absent from the bed so I strolled back into the front room. My purse was hanging on the back of the chair where I had left it. My pass card and Linda's money were still in there, thank God.. I looked around for my clothes and saw them folded neatly and sorted on a side table. I reached for them.

"Hey, I won those fair and square!" It was the blond football pro.

"I need to get back to my room," I replied.

"OK, cutie," he stated as he eyed me from head to toe, "You can earn 'em back!"

"I'll just leave." I offered, thinking I could finagle some excuse as to what I had done with one of Linda's favorite outfits when she went to look for it later..

"Nobody leaves unless I say so, Doll!"

I noted that the burly black guy was guarding the door in a serious manner.

"Please, I need to get back to my room," I replied.

"I won't let you leave naked. You want to get out of this room, you earn your clothes back the same way you lost them, one piece at a time."

He held up my panties, smiled like the cat that ate the canary, took a deep sniff of them, and said,

"These will cost you ten minutes of intense make out time. I get more creative with your bra and so forth. Nothing goes on until you have won everything back!"

He towered over me and emphasized his size by crossing his huge pythons across his chest. His nudity only seemed to emphasize his power. His manhood reminded me of an eel I had caught as a kid.

"I'll tell the management.!" I threatened.

"With what I'm paying them, they will be on My side!" His smirk was most irritating.

He sat in a folding chair. "Come here, doll. Sit on daddy's lap!"

All at once, his huge arms swept me up and I found myself on his lap, naked flesh to naked flesh. He began to kiss me. Yuck! How could Linda stand sucking face with me every day? His five O'clock shadow scratched my cheek and he smelled like a brewery. Naturally, he forced his tongue down my throat. Oh God, did it suck! While He was kissing me one of his hands went to my crotch and I soon felt his large finger forcing its way into my snatch. At that moment, more than anything, I regretted the occasions in our marriage where I had insisted upon intercourse when Linda was not in the mood. I was not as huge an ogre as the pig manhandling me, but I was deeply ashamed of myself.

"You're a tasty little thing aren't you?" he stated after our interminable session of kissing was over.

"Can I get dressed and leave now?" I asked pointedly.

"Why the rush, sweetheart? Now I get to fondle your cute little boobs." His hot breath was on my cheek. Never had I felt or been so helpless. Even in my own body, this guy could probably manhandle me just as effectively. He clasped both of my wrists in one of his huge, powerful mitts and forced my back to arch, elevating my boobs and bringing them closer to his lips. He proceeded to suckle and nibble my nipples and areolas. Not in the sweet comforting style of Fatima, but in a greedy hungry way. Twice, he bit down so hard, I winced in pain and even vocalized it.

"Aww, are pretty girl's nipples sore?" he asked while winking at me.

With monumental forbearance, I refrained from calling him a pig to his face. Even after he finished assaulting my boobs he kept hold of me.

"Now Miss pretty blue eyes, to show that I am not entirely heartless I'll give you your choice. You can either take three shots of whiskey and then suck my cock or you can take three shots of whiskey and dance pretty for me. Do either of those, and I'll let you get dressed."

I figured there had to be a catch, but I could not figure it out. The only cock I intended to suck while at the Institute was my own! I was still feeling the effects from too much beer but I thought I could power through the whiskey. Once I was dressed and back in my room, I could throw up in the bathroom and thank my lucky stars that I was safe.

"I'll dance," I replied flatly.

The huge blond guy released his hold on me just enough to pour a shot glass to the rim with very expensive, very potent whiskey. I downed it in one go. The second one took longer to get down and the third was agony. I felt like I had been slugged across the skull by a two by four. My legs trembled under me as Mr. football set be back down on the ground. I staggered through a dance that would have been mocked by a three-legged crab. Blond guy roared with laughter. I reached for my panties and the lights went out. All I have after that is impressions, leaning against the walls, an arm about my waist. The hallways turning into fun house mirrors, and, horrifyingly, some large, predatory, presence through all of it.

It was nearly noon when I woke up to the worst hangover of my life. I was naked but in my own bed. The clothes I had, presumably, worn back to my room, were strewn all over the place. Elsewhere, however, Linda's clothes and possessions were a comforting presence. Gingerly, I made my way to the bathroom feeling every step of the way that something was not right. My heart froze cold when I spied two used condoms floating in the commode!

Men shouldn't cry, but, man I sure did. Above the violation was anger with myself for getting so sloppy drunk in the first place. Polly had warned me to pace myself, to not try to do too much. I gazed at the thin line where Linda's rings normally resided. I'd not only betrayed myself I had betrayed Linda as well. Some guy, probably Mr. Football, but I had no proof, had had his way with me. I felt like the worst husband on earth. I let out a yelp of rage but managed to refrain from punching the wall. What could I ever tell Linda? "Honey, you won't believe what happened to me while I was in your body .."