Courtney, my wife, was gorgeous, but always complaining about her weight. "If I lost 10 pounds, I'd look so much better." Every time, I'd reassure her that she was the sexiest woman I'd ever met, and there was no need to change anything about herself.
After the hundredth time, though, I was sick of hearing about it. "Ugh! You know you don't need to, but if you really want to lose weight, just get some self-control and do it already!"
This would have been a mistake in any marriage, but I was about to discover how severe the consequences could be. My wife's eyes burned as she shouted, "If it's so damn easy, then why don't YOU do it!"
I felt extremely nauseous for a moment as the room whipped around. When the world stopped spinning, I found myself staring at... myself! It probably looked a bit comical as I grabbed my chest, then my butt, then my chest again, before reaching down my pants to search frantically for something I knew I wouldn't find. "What did you do?!?"
From my old body, my wife rolled my eyes. "I thought it would be obvious, but I switched our bodies. It's an old secret that's been in my family for generations. Since you think it should so easy, you're going to stay in my body until you've lost 10 pounds."
I spent the rest of the night in a daze. I woke up the next morning with my own erection poking me in the back. "Haha, I guess you do find my body sexy." I bolted out of bed, deciding that the sooner I accepted my wife's insane demands, the sooner we could go back to normal.
I dug through Courtney's drawers to find workout clothes, which I realized would include a sports bra for the foreseeable future. I got dressed (only playing with my new boobs for a minute), and jogged out the door. Despite keeping a modest pace, I was quickly winded and walked most of the way home.
Inside, the smell of bacon and eggs led me to my wife eating a full breakfast spread at the kitchen table. "Hi sweetheart! Have a nice run? I would have made some for you, but I know you probably just want a slice of wheat toast and a protein shake, right?"
I rolled my eyes in response. "Of course, dear." The toast tasted like cardboard and the shake tasted like ass.
Fortunately, Courtney and I worked at the same company. Unfortunately, I'd never gotten dressed as a woman before. I started with a shower (again, only playing with my boobs a little bit), then struggled through makeup as my wife giggled. The sports bra had been easy enough, but I wrestled with the regular one for several minutes, swore as my fingernails caused a run in my first pair of pantyhose, and nearly broke my neck learning to walk in heels. Altogether, we were only 45 minutes late.
Our jobs were similar enough that we quickly got up to speed. The difficult part was ignoring my growling stomach. After an hour, I knew I couldn't last until lunch, so I went to the cafe across the street, returning with one plain bagel with light cream cheese. I was proud of my restraint until I realized that I'd only made up for my small "breakfast." Rather than ordering a salad for lunch, I wolfed down a cheeseburger and fries.
I promised myself I'd run again after work, but all I wanted to do at home was relax in front of the TV and go to bed. I said I'd get up earlier tomorrow, but it was all I could do to run the same distance. The rest of the week proceeded in the same way: exercising less than I should and eating things I shouldn't.
After a week, my wife decided it was time for my first weigh-in. "OK 'Courtney', let's see how you did!" I knew she'd been observing me closely and was practically giddy to see me get my comeuppance. "According to the scale... you actually GAINED two pounds! Oh dear! Does somebody enjoy being my plump little princess?"
I scowled as she made a playful grab at my ass. "Fine, it's harder than I thought. But now that I'm acclimated to your body, I can buckle down and get this over with."
I meant it, too. Over the next week, I threw myself into exercise and barely ate. For all that effort, the scale rewarded me with a two pound decrease. Great, back to where I started. Another week, another weigh-in: no change! Two weeks later, I'd netted one more pound lost.
All this effort for so little results began to wear on me. The breaking point came at work, where someone brought in a cake for a retirement party. You've been doing so good, I thought. Why not have one little slice to reward yourself? I gave in to the temptation, promising it wouldn't derail my progress. I made the same promise after my second and third slices as well.
The next morning, I discovered that having my first period made exercise extremely unappealing. I spent the next few days moody and eating chocolate. Of course, all this showed up on the scale, where I'd added four pounds in one week, going above my starting point once again.
I finally lost it. "Why is this so hard? I could eat whatever I wanted as a guy, but now I look at something fatty and I gain weight! I just... I just feel like an ugly cow!"
My wife, clearly uncomfortable with my breakdown, wrapped her arms around me. "Hey, it's OK. Trust me, I know it's hard. But you're so strong, and, um, beautiful. I don't mind if you take a break from dieting."
I don't know why, but looking up at my old body, feeling vulnerable, I leaned in and kissed Courtney. We made love for the first time in our swapped bodies, and after some initial awkwardness, it was the most amazing sex either of us had ever had.
True to her word, my wife let me stop dieting. Unfortunately, the magic that had switched us was tied to her condition of me losing 10 pounds, so until that happened we were stuck. Neither of us really minded, though. We both grew increasingly comfortable in our new skin, and I just continued to grow, period. I think watching her old body gain weight turned Courtney on, because we'd always have the best sex on nights we ate something greasy like fried chicken.
I gave up checking the scale after officially adding 100 pounds. My fat rolls make it difficult to have sex these days, but neither of us really mind. Still, I think I'll save the rest of these donuts for later. After all, I do have some self-control.
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