Lake Trip Chaperone

  My wife won the coin toss, which meant I would be chaperoning our daughter's lake trip. These days your head only hurts for a few hours after your brain waves get mapped onto the host body.

  We bought a stock host body, and my wife let me pick the one.  Of course, I went for blonde hair and large breasts. To my disdain, the latter was not the most fun. My wife laughed at my decision as it sank in that I would be wearing unsupportive bikinis all week.

  Whatever, my only worry was that my daughter's friends would ask questions about the product number that was still visible on my stomach. It would wear off as the week went on, but maybe I needed a tattoo to cover it?

  In the days leading up to the trip, I really didn't appreciate my wife's attitude shift toward me. I think she delighted in talking down to me, poking fun at my new frailty and soft body.  She had me doing chores around the house like she was my mother or something. Finally, she's torturing me in her marital duties.

  She "isn't a lesbian," and "could never do it with someone who can't penetrate her like a man."  I'm dying here, because it seems my body still finds her attractive.  Maybe I'll find someone who will reciprocate on our daughter's trip. . .

What Happened to Our Relationship?

  "I'm so embarrassed, I'm freakishly tall compared to you two," I, on the right, whispered to my girlfriend during the photo.
  "Please stop complaining or you'll give yourself away, and then there's no lesbian sex for you tonight!"  Jen, my girlfriend in the middle, snapped back.
  At first, I was excited to go to the party and show off Jen to other people, but things changed when I found out the hoops we would have to jump through to attend.  Mary, on the left, had a very strict father.  Everyone knew that she had the capacity to throw awesome parties because of their family's wealth, but her dad insisted each time, "no boys are allowed!"
  Obviously, being male, I would not be able to come.  The workaround we agreed to was for each man to buy a skinsuit to wear to the party.  That way, everyone could come, regardless of gender.  The initial shame of doing so went away after the first party since everyone did it.
  After that, we started to enjoy doing it as a tradition.  Besides the fun of designing the ideal womanly body for yourself with your girlfriend online, it became fun to pick out clothes to wear together at the mall and have her do my makeup.
  Honestly, our relationship became closer than ever, and usually, it ended in hot, steamy, lesbian sex.
  I began to worry, though, when she started to prefer me wearing the suit and being disinterested in having sex with me without the suit on.  When she started preferring that she wear the strap-on each time, I knew we were in for trouble.

Festival Forever

  My daughter really wanted to go to this pagan, new-age, music festival that was a few states away and was an entire week long.  Honestly, it wasn't even that I didn't want her going, not even her closest friends wanted to commit to sleeping in a tent for a week with terrible phone service and the like.  Therefore, when she begged and begged incessantly to the point of me losing my mind, I conceded.
  The problem was that "I was a weird, creepy old man."  She would be "so embarrassed to walk around and party with me."  I had to change my appearance to have the honor of going with her (and of course paying for everything),
  Lucy, my daughter, came to me one afternoon, with a "solution."  She had gone to a ritualistic medicine shop in the city and bought some herbs and other strange things that you might imagine find their home in a witch's fairy tale cottage.  After mixing it all together in one of our pots in the kitchen and heating it up, she said some words she found on a forum off of her phone.  Then she handed me a mug of the purple fluorescent ooze and told me to drink up.
  This is when the agonizing pain started.  I honest to god felt my bones chipping away to get smaller inside my body, my fat being redistributed all around myself, my joints feeling like they were being sawed and sanded down to size.  Fire welled on top of my head as my receded hairline reversed and hair rushed out.  My face popped and cracked as my facial planes rearranged.  I distinctively remember burning sensations in my pelvic area as new organs knitted together and destroyed old ones like a parasite.  I constantly was spewing stuff out of my mouth, assumedly the extra mass that had to go somewhere during the change.  After about 6 hours of this hell, everything settled.  I looked in the mirror.  No more me.  I was what looked like some chick my daughter might hang out with.
  To be honest, about halfway through the weeklong festival, I started to have fun.  Once I could let loose and enjoy my surroundings as well as time with my daughter, it all seemed worth it. I got my nipples pierced to be funny, played around with makeup, and dyed the ends of my hair red.
  Hey Dad, I need to tell you something, Lucy said.  "I'm not 100% sure how to reverse this change.  That was an emergency potion used to recruit new witches if too many women died.  There's no rite or recipe for the other way around."