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. . .
