Swap Tales: Substitute Girlfriend

By Gregor Daniels

Ron can't help but envy his friend, Clark. He's got it all: the looks, the prowess, and a magnetic attraction to any fine-looking lady within a hundred feet, especially his hot girlfriend, Jade. However, Clark's about to be lonely for a couple weeks. Jade is heading upstate to visit her father, depriving her boyfriend of his usual fulfillment.

Or is she?

With the magical app Swap Mate, Jade—her body, anyway—doesn't have to go anywhere! After a few clicks, Ron finds himself temporary promoted to the girlfriend role, complete with all the necessary tools to keep Clark happy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gregor Daniels
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005450663

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

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Epilogue

Copyright © 2022 Gregor Daniels

All rights reserved.

Only ADULTS beyond this point.

All characters are consenting adults at least eighteen years old.

1

So, Clark said, his fingers loosely clasping the neck of a Bud Light that bobbed in the water next to his pink, inflatable pool float. Any new chicks for the Ron-meister?

Nope, Ron said, on his own pool float and slowly drifting in the opposite direction.

Nada?

Nada.

Huh. Bummer.

They were relaxing in Clark’s backyard in-ground pool. It was nearly the size of a tennis court, with a whole separate lagoon like a private hot tub. On these sweltering summer days, Ron didn’t feel like doing much of anything other than lounging around and improving his tan—and it was almost too hot for that. The gentle waves carried the two of them apart. Five minutes later, they floated toward each other again. Clark had finished his beer and left the bottle with the half-dozen others on the pool’s edge.

Nothing? he said, the sun gleaming off his hairless chest.

Not since Amanda last year, Ron confirmed. I told you, man. I’m like the bubonic plague. No one wants me.

But you’re not a bad-looking guy. Clark smiled. His perfect teeth and perfect pecs could make every woman wet within a half-mile radius. Even his goddamn name was perfect: Clark, like Clark Kent, who was as manly as they came.

Ron considered his own, dull name.

Clark: "Well, I mean, you know, in a totally hetero and not-gay objective way. Chicks should be crawling all over you."

Should be, Ron agreed.

Maybe you’re not saying the right words.

I don’t even get to the part where I say words. Girls just look the other way.

You pissed off a witch, then.

Possibly.

Once more, they floated apart, and Ron contemplated his own perpetual misfortune with the opposite sex. He was too hard on himself. If Clark was the lead man in the handsomeness foot race, Ron was on his heels. They were both in excellent shape. They had both played sports in high school. Clark shaved his chest hair but Ron didn’t.

Was that the difference? Chest hair?

Or maybe it was down to the smile.

Clark had once admitted to practicing his smile for hours upon hours in the mirror. He claimed there was a science behind the expression, and the exact smileness of a smile could make chicks leap into his arms. It sounded like total bullshit, but then Ron was practicing his own smile while the two of them were facing away from each other.

Then the waves carried them back toward the middle.

Clark stuck his foot out, stopping Ron’s pool float.

Here, Clark said, dropping a fresh beer into Ron’s inflatable cup-holder. Sounds like you need a drink more than me. Then he promptly belched.

Thanks, Ron said, having himself a refreshing swig.

Sorry about your luck with the ladies.

Ron shrugged. My luck will change. It always does.

Clark was definitely drunk. Ron knew this not because of the modest collection of beer bottles on the poolside concrete, but because Clark was massaging Ron’s calf. He always became touchy-feely when there was a large amount of alcohol in his bloodstream. It was just