I had heard it might hurt, especially given our sizes and they were right. There was pain but luckily, not too much blood.
What they were wrong about was that sex doesn't change anything. They tried to tell me that losing my virginity wouldn't suddenly change how I look at the world, that it wouldn't magically make me consider myself an adult or anything else different.
And yet the moment I woke, I knew something . . . was different.
I didn't feel the same grogginess I usually do when waking up. And the sheets, they somehow felt different against my skin.
I could hear quiet breathing on the pillow next to mine as I thought back to last night and how he was genuinely surprised when I told him it would be my first time.
I knew I wasn't outgoing and I knew I was no supermodel, not even what someone would consider hot, but even so, I was still pretty.
Because I was, people always assumed that at twenty-two I had an active dating life, but that just wasn't true. When it came to romance I was a little too self-conscious and shy and it seemed like nothing could or would change that.
That is until Sam came into my life, became my best friend, and made me want nothing but his warm embrace, to make him happy, give him everything.
What happened yesterday wasn't forced or planned, it came naturally and I knew I was ready, that he was the one.
As I lay there in the pre-dawn darkness, I remembered everything in vivid detail; the outdoor candlelight dinner, the slow walk by the river as we discussed our hopes and dreams, a passionate kiss on the bridge.
I smiled recalling how he laughed over how much he had to slouch so I could even attempt to kiss him, even though I had on five-inch stilettos. Being so short can be a pain sometimes, but never with him. I love looking up at him towering above me, my protector.
I recalled that when I kissed him on that bridge He had tasted of the after dinner Gelato cone he'd had just a little bit ago, and now even imagining the taste made my heart beat faster.
That's when I realized something else didn't feel right, my crotch. Is this what it felt like after being stretched the first time. It might not be normal but then neither is he. He really stretched me.
I lay there studying the sensations I was feeling at that moment. Sexual excitement as I knew it, always came with warmth and dampness from between my thighs, an energy that built and then radiated throughout my abdomen.
My thoughts about last night were causing me to become aroused, but this time it was different, very different. It felt like it was happening outside my body. I felt a pressure and then something moved slightly against my thigh.
Something just wasn't right. I moved my hand towards my groin and my fingers came in contact with a semi-erect penis.
Since I was lying on my back and he wasn't atop of me, this was definitely not the penis of Sam, trying to enter me. No, when I touched it I could feel the touch of my fingers on the slightly swollen appendage.
My eyes opened in terror and I sat bolt upright on the bed. My gaze went slowly down to my naked chest and I found out the reason why my skin felt so weird against the sheets - it was covered in thick wiry blonde hairs just like Sam's.
That wasn't the only change though.
I was used to the weight of my breasts pulling down on my pecs and the skin around them. Mine were slightly bigger than any of my friends', and I liked the size, but I had always disliked their shape.
They weren't exactly saggy, but they also weren't particularly firm either, their weight always making them heave downwards in a pendulous tear-drop shape.
Now that sensation was gone, replaced by a feeling of . . . muscular thickness. My breast were gone.
Sam was a bear. Not literally of course. He was big without being fat, and 'athletic' was definitely not a word I would use to describe him, yet one look at him and anyone knew that Sam was as strong as a bull. He was a bear, my bear.
As my rational mind started connecting the facts, I quickly realized that somehow now it was me in his intimidating body. Me, petite little Amalie Johnson. What scared me even more, is the realization that my calmness about it was as foreign to me as the body.
For my whole life, I had reacted impulsively to the unexpected and now . . . I investigated everything with a calm curiosity, just like Sam would.
I looked at my hairy arms. I could feel hard muscle moving under the thick skin and fat as I flexed my hand in a fist. I knew that my forearm now must have been the same size as my one of my dainty calves in my real body.
My real body
My real body
My real body . . .
That's when I suddenly became aware of the girl sleeping next to me. I was struck by just how tiny she looked, compared to me. Then I realized that actually, everything seemed smaller.
That should not have been surprising given that I now somehow occupied Sam's massive six-foot five-inch body, while yesterday I could only claim a hair under five feet if I was lucky.
The girl was laying on her side with her back towards me. She was covered with a blanket, but I could easily make out her tiny, yet curvy, pear body shape.
Even though I was always small, back in school I used to be a promising runner. That is until the puberty kicked in and decided to give me the childbearing hips of my father's side of my genetic heritage.
During puberty, my petite, runners pelvis grew uncomfortably wide while the rest of my torso stayed almost the same, effectively preventing me from running well. Then in college, I learned that when I gain weight it goes straight to my buttocks with a tendency for cellulite.
I never understood what Sam found attractive in my jiggly bottom, yet knowledge of all that former uncomfortable inconvenience somehow seemed irrelevant when I now looked at the curves of my old body with someone else's eyes. With man's eyes.
I felt a shift, an involuntary movement outside my groin and moving the blanket away presented me with a view of the male member as it grew.
It looked much less intimidating from this perspective, much smaller, just like everything else. Still, the fact that it was there, attached to my groin, gave me a sick feeling. I wanted to go back to normal.
An image of what I had seen between my legs for my whole life, my beautiful feminine genitalia, flashed through my mind and immediately the tip of my new foreign member peeked out of the foreskin as more blood rushed there making me painfully aware of the rapidly hardening appendage attached to my loins.
I wanted the erection to go away. I needed it to go away if I didn't want to go completely mad.
Slowly, carefully I reached down and once again touched my penis. The sensation that traveled down the penis and into my abdomen made the penis flex and I realized how sensitive its tip really was.
I moaned audibly and was terrified at how the deep sound I produced resonated in my hairy chest. I wasn't going to make that mistake again.
I decided the erection had to go away by itself. Maybe if I wai--
I heard movement next to me where the tiny woman was sleeping.
"Amalie?" I heard a strangely familiar voice call out.
I turned to the side to face the girl.
She brushed a strand of reddish-brown hair out of her face with her beautifully manicured, petite fingers, opened her still mascara streaked eyes and looked at me.
It was in that instant that the loudest, most panicked, high pitched scream I've ever heard, broke the silence.
========
So the challenge, given to me by Laindzy was this:
"Write a story about a character on the morning following the night he or she loses their virginity. They wake up to find out that they are in their partner's body..."
Now, it's your turn to think about and describe what you think it would be like if it were to happen to you.