Switch Bet

By Gregor Daniels

All-around couch potato Randal comes into possession of a small gold coin that just so happens to have supernatural betting powers. After unsuccessfully using it on the college football game, he accidentally sets off the first change, giving his best friend the body of a local stripper. Before he turns back, a sexual act is required, and Randal himself might be next when his friend is male again.

Length: 15,900 words

This work of fiction contains adult material and explicit scenes with erotic descriptions. Themes include gender transformations, body swaps, mental corruption, race changes, magic, and other perverted fantasies. For mature audiences only. All characters over 18 years old.

Excerpt:

"It was worth a shot, man. At least now we know that the coin is — "

Suddenly, my vocal cords just stopped midsentence. I grabbed my throat and tried to cough, but nothing came out at all. It felt like something was clamped around my neck and squeezing it, preventing any noise from exiting my lips.

Randal continued on, oblivious that my voice had suddenly stopped. "Maybe it works a different way. There has to be some reason it isn't working."

His words passed through my ear canals, but I wasn't listening to them. My whole body ached, and a tingle passed down my neck and across every one of my limbs. It felt like I had been electrocuted, but there wasn't any pain at all. In fact, the prickly sensation of needles poking my skin wasn't all that unpleasant in the slightest. It was kind of soothing, and a shallow warmth was seeping underneath my skin and dispersing through every part of my body.

I think Randal noticed that I wasn't paying attention, because I saw him staring at me after I hadn't said a single word for a few moments.

"Dude, Jack? Are you alright?"

I didn't know what he saw, but I couldn't reply back. The tingles elevated in intensity until I couldn't feel anything else at all. It was like my crotch had been shoved into an electric outlet, feeding the wall's electricity into my body, where it manifested into a body-shattering series of sparks that made all of my hair stand straight out.

"Jack?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregor Daniels
• Release date: Nov 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310316012

Gregor Daniels

Gregor Daniels is an erotica author that specializes in gender swap and erotic transformation fetishes. New stories are typically released weekly and feature a variety of themes. Have you ever had fantasies to be a girl? Then look no further ...Contact the author directly on Twitter to discuss stories, share your favorite ideas and fantasies, scenes, and characters, or to just talk about nothing in particular.

Book preview

Switch Bet

Published by Gregor Daniels at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Gregor Daniels

For ADULTS Only. All Characters Over 18.

I went over to Randal's place on Friday after work. He lived in a second-story apartment in one of the poorer areas of town. It was a crummy place in all, with terrible air conditioning, high electric bills, and leaky ceilings when the sky only thought about dropping some liquid precipitation. It was also a shady place, and a notorious location for the cocaine business. I had seen police lights outside his window about four or five times just in the last six months alone.

Nevertheless, Randal refused to move, claiming he couldn't afford to. He also only worked about twenty hours a week, and spent the rest of his time lounging around on the couch and watching sports or playing video games. There were plenty of job opportunities in the town, but he just didn't have the damn energy to move out of the chair.

We'd been best friends since high school, so I still hung out with him and criticized his way of living. Most of the time he ignored me, though, and just did whatever he pleased.

This Friday was no different, and I could already smell the beer before I even walked in the front door. He had a longneck in his hand, and another six-pack on the counter right next to the refrigerator; it was nearly cleaned out. Randal gestured me inside as he took another sip and let out a belch that literally caused the walls to vibrate. It was that shitty of an apartment.

The kitchen and living room were basically just one room, with a tile floor underneath the appliances and cabinets. The living room had a stained hazel carpet that looked like it hadn't been in fashion since the seventies. It probably also hadn't been replaced since then, either.

Have a seat, dude. He pointed to the couch, something he had picked up at a garage sale for less than a hundred dollars. Meanwhile, Randal took his throne at the recliner as I plopped myself on the cushions that had no support whatsoever. A concrete slab would have been more comfortable.

Anything going on? The conversations always started the same.

Not much, he replied before reverting his concentration back to the alcohol going into his mouth. Just watching the game. Damn Bears are going to cost me a serious amount of cash if they don't win this shit.

Randal and gambling went together like Randal and beer. Every Friday he'd place a bet on some football team, usually the local university. More often than not, they'd lose, and he'd sulk about forking over that much cash. Nevertheless, the process repeated itself each weekend.

On the days that he did luck into a positive result, Randal would brag about the money he made and how he was going to spend it. I tried to explain to him that his net profit over the course of the season wasn't a profit at all. That didn't stop him from placing money down on the very next game. He was a lunatic. A humble, but dull-minded lunatic.

I tried to make myself comfortable as one of the receivers on the television fumbled a catch that would have surely put the team in a good position to score a touchdown. Randal shouted his usual mixture of obscenities, hoping that cursing at the electronics would somehow encourage the player to play better next time. Obviously, it didn't really work.

You should watch football, too, man. Place some bets every week. The more teams you bet on, the more likely you're going to win.

I blew him off as casually as possible. Nah, I'm fine man. Got other plans with my expendable income than to gamble it all. Like any sane person would do.

I've been trying to use the coin to make them score, but it just ain't working. That lady was probably lying to me.

As if his obsession with losing money couldn't have gotten any stranger, Randal had a coin. It was just some trashy piece of jewelry that he found at a garage sale. Cost him two dollars, which I thought was outrageous. We spent the better part of an afternoon trying to find anything about it on the internet, but no results came up. The lady also claimed it was made from pure gold, but that was probably a load of bullshit.

The coin itself was about the same diameter as a half-dollar, and roughly twice as thick. It was fairly heavy, and probably not a coin manufactured in the States. It was so worn that I