Free Culture Shock by Ginger Simpson Page A

held any semblance of humor, and he shuddered at the thought his situation might just be a permanent one.
     
    ***
     
    The Sunday morning sun, filtering through a hole in the bedroom curtain, caught Alex square in the face. He struggled to open his eyes, but the blinding ray was extraordinarily bright. He rolled away from the glare.
    Memories of last night flooded back. He froze, afraid to move…to get up. Please, God, he bargained with the Lord, tell me it was just a bad dream. Make it a bad dream, and I'll do whatever you ask of me.
    He hesitated a moment before exploring his chest. His fingers rested on a mound, and then moved to a second one. Clearly it wasn't a dream. He had tits.
    Alex swallowed hard and sat up, looking into the living room. No explanation described how he felt sitting in bed looking at himself asleep on the couch. The word ‘weird’ fit, but unbelievable was more like it. He considered going back to sleep and hoping for better results upon re- awakening, but, he needed to use the toilet.
    Mentally bemoaning the fact he'd have to sit down, he rose. Last time he'd sat on a toilet to pee, he'd been two-years old.
    Not wanting to wake Cynthia, he tiptoed to the bathroom, pulled the door closed and stood for a moment, looking into the mirror. Yep, definitely weird. He felt like himself but the face staring back at him belonged to Cynthia.
    He touched her face, noting the smooth feel of her skin. He'd frequently wished he didn't have to shave, but what had happened wasn't exactly an answer to that prayer. Besides, at the moment he'd pay to have his own face back.
    Alex pulled down Cynthia's tailored slacks and black thong then sat on the toilet. He was used to the manly sound of urine hitting the back of the bowl, not the almost inaudible tinkling sound he heard. While he waited for the steam to end, he fingered her lacy undergarment. He longed to see her in her underwear, but definitely not like this. He reached behind and touched Cynthia's soft bottom. At that moment he decided he was really a sick individual and jerked his hand away. When he finished urinating, he sat for a moment and wondered what to do next. Usually he just shook the dew off the lily, but…he wadded up a piece of toilet tissue and blotted the pubic moisture away, not enjoying the sensation at all. Standing, he pulled up his undergarment and pants then turned to the sink and washed his hands.
     
    ***
     
    The flushing of the toilet caused the ancient water pipes to groan, waking Cynthia. Her pillow on the floor explained why her neck ached. For a moment, she remained, head resting against the hard sofa arm, and stared through blurry eyes at the faded paint on the ceiling. The events of the past evening replayed in her mind. A glance at her newly-acquired, hairy knuckles proved what had happened was all too real.
    Her bladder screamed to be emptied, and something strained against the front of her jeans. She reached to adjust her crotch and grimaced. "Oh sheesh!" Her fingers found the morning "woody" guys always talked about.
    She yanked her hand from beneath the blanket like it was on fire. Covering her face, she bemoaned her fate. The bathroom beckoned, but she wasn't ready for what else awaited her. The idea of touching Alex's penis was bad enough; she wasn't sure she knew how to aim one.
    Unable to stand the growing discomfort, Cynthia passed Alex on her way into the bathroom. The sinister grin on his face told her he had already been. She glared at him. "I don't want to discuss it," she spat, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.
    In front of the toilet, she inched down the zipper on her Levis. Scrunching her eyes closed, she gingerly reached inside the open fly, took hold of the engorged member with two fingers, and pulled it free. Opening one eye, she looked down at the toilet and calculated a line of fire. The stream of urine seemed never-ending, but brought immediate relief…and ended the erection.
    She tucked the