What is it like to be a beautiful woman?
From the moment 17-year-old Kyle Richmond met his friend Kristi’s young mother Julie, he was overcome by strange feelings. Yes, there was desire — she was the hottest mom he had ever seen — but there was also a kind of envy. Her beauty meant that guys like him would always trip over themselves for her attention and everything would come easy. Being an adult meant she had an independence and a power that he, a forgotten middle child, felt like he would never know.
Then one day, he awakens in her body, and she makes it clear she intends the switch to be permanent. She leaves the teenage boy to learn that things aren’t always easy, or fun, for the women of the world.
Faced with the unexpected difficulties of being a young mother, and unusual new instincts and desires, Kyle does his best to navigate the new world he has been thrown into, to learn who he really is inside, and what it truly means to be Kristi’s Mom.
KRISTI’S MOM is the first full-length novel from transformation author Liam Slade (I CHANGED SEXES WITH MY WIFE, STEVEN: A LOVE STORY.) It features no explicit content and is suitable for ages 13+
It is also available on SmashWords for $5.99 USD.
You can read the first two chapters for free here!
Now available: Kristi’s Mom Author’s Edition
Featuring an afterword from the author, an epilogue, a special new story featuring Gina’s summer adventures, and more!
It’s available from $9.99 USD on Amazon Kindle and $8.99 on Smashwords
If you already bought Kristi’s Mom on Amazon, you can update your edition to get a special coupon on Smashwords! (If you are having issues accessing the discount please contact me here.)
I woke up the next morning feeling stranger than I ever had in my whole life. My head throbbed, my bones and muscles ached, my mouth was dry and hot. My insides felt like they were swimming around inside of me. I thought I was going to puke. If this was what drugs did to you, I was glad I didn’t make a habit of them.
I tried to piece together the events of the night before. It took a moment to remember where I had fallen asleep. I felt the soft, smooth duvet around me and pulled it close, curling into a fetal position.
I barely remembered where I was – the big, warm bed of Julie Kouriakis. I knew that any moment, she could come through the door to wake me up and take me home, to my parents who were preparing to move the next day. I rolled over and buried my head under the covers to try to protect myself somehow.
Something was amiss, but I didn’t dare investigate it yet. I only hoped I could shut my eyes and fall right back to sleep, but a bright, bright sunlight burst through the window so strongly I couldn’t even block it out by closing my eyes. I buried my head and grumbled “No…” just under my breath. I rolled over onto my stomach, but felt an unusual pressure on my chest that made me flinch. Something was pressed between my ribcage and the mattress.
Out of instinct, I reached over to find my phone on the nightstand. There was one there, but it wasn’t mine – the case was a feminine pink. But when I looked at it, it opened right up, as if using facial recognition technology.
Long locks of soft blonde hair fell over my eyes. I brushed them away, confused at where they had come from, since my hair was normally short and naturally rusty brown. But I became more focussed on the unfamiliar phone in my hands: and the hands cradling the phone were not mine. They were slimmer, softer… daintier.
There was a notification. New video message.
I raised a perplexed eyebrow as I tapped to open it, a sinking feeling growing in my gut as my alertness grew and I started to sense – without believing it was possible, but yet still sensing – what had happened. And sure enough there was a video of me, taken at selfie range, wearing a strangely sinister, smug expression.
“Hiiii Kyle…” he said in a feminine singsong voice, “I’m so sorry it had to come down this way. Really. It absolutely was not anything personal. But you were there, practically crying on my shoulder about how you hated your life, and honestly I’ve always felt I could be happier, so… I made a little change.”
My back straightened up, my eyes widened. He couldn’t be saying what I thought he was saying?
“It’s going to be tough to adjust, but, I think you’ll get used to it. You’ll have to. Don’t hold out hope of ever getting your old life back. I’m moving, you know. Oh sure, maybe someday I’ll be done with this life and ready to move on, but by the time that happens, I’ll be far, far away and you won’t know anything about it.”
My jaw fell open. Instinctively, as if to confirm what had been said, my hand raised to my chest – and found a soft, supple breast there.
He resumed. “Aw, don’t cry kiddo. It’ll be fun. I know you always loved looking at me, watching me, fawning over me… I bet you thought I didn’t notice. Hun, I see everything. But it’s really not the punishment you think it is. I bet you’ll find lots of ways to have fun.”
She threw me a lewd wink. I cringed.
“But just in case you haven’t figured it out, there’s lots more I can do. So if you make me mad, or try to get out of playing your part… I might just have to do something you really won’t like. To you… or someone you care about. Like say, your mom, or your dad, or Jesse… or even Kristi.”
My face flashed hot. She wouldn’t.
“Now’s your chance to really get to know who Julie Kouriakis actually is. And that’s anyone you want her to be, baby.”
A slight, feminine giggle escaped my – his – her lips, on the video. He cleared his throat “Hm, I suppose I’ll have to learn to fix that. Well, I’ll have lots of time, and a clean slate to do it, since we’re moving out of this dumpster of a town in about 24 hours. Enjoy your life. See you around, sport.”
The video cut out, and the screen reverted to homescreen. There was a glamorous photo of Mrs. K, looking absolutely flawless as she gave a wry grin to the camera. A moment later, it faded to black and all I could see was my reflection – a darkened mirror of a face I only somewhat recognized from this perspective. Slightly obscured by shadow, I still saw those high cheekbones, narrow nose and sleepy eyes – those of the beautiful Julie Kouriakis. I furrowed my brow, and the person in the image did the same.
I raised my head and saw across the room where Mrs. K kept her vanity table. In the reflection of the mirror there, I could see only one person alone in the bed.
I raised my hands to my head and the reflection did the same. I swept my fingers downward combing through the long dyed-blonde hair that I had seen before, but never had growing out of me.
“No way…” I whispered, keeping my voice too low to confirm that I now had a woman’s.
I threw that downy white duvet off myself and revealed a pair of silky-smooth curvaceous, hairless legs, clad in purple flannel pyjama shorts that rode high up on my thigh. As soon as I saw them, I straightened my neck upward. I couldn’t look at my legs, because that would mean seeing what was at the top of them – a pair of wide hips I could now feel, behind which was a firm, perky ass I was now sitting on. And between them… well, what exactly?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out.
But I already knew – I was a 17-year-old boy, or at least supposed to be. Every morning for the past four years I had woken up with an unignorable stiff sensation between my legs, that familiar throb that invited me to pleasure myself. Now there was nothing. No stuff throb, and no limp instrument dangling down, nothing at all occupying the real estate in my shorts, but a very alien-feeling separation above my thighs.
My heart beat fast as I abruptly forced my hand to cup myself in the crotch, hoping it would meet a familiar bulge, but only finding flat terrain, concealing a slight, sensitive aperture that I could just barely discern with my fingers through the fabric.
Immediately, I retracted my hands and moved them to my chest – my breasts. Julie’s breasts. Those beautiful, soft, supple tits that I had eagerly watched bound around Kristi’s house whenever her mom came home from work or visited us poolside were now hanging from my chest, under a white cotton tank top that, when I did look down again, I could see pushing the fabric out and down, and where the scooped neck revealed a wide-splayed cleavage, the kind that occurs when a woman with perfect breasts doesn’t wear a bra.
I had never seen breasts from this angle before, it made me dizzy to look at them. I had always wanted to see this – and more – so badly, and now I couldn’t stand to look. The blood drained from my face.
I held them. They were attached to me – and heavier than I thought, their flesh so invitingly soft. When I released them, they bounced ever so slightly.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered.