Sometime, probably long, long ago, a very skilled carver, very likely a sailor, had honed the tusk down to the shape of an erect human penis and then had decorated it with erotic scrimshaw showing carefully outlined men and women joined in a series of incredible positions, all of which defied gravity. The gently curved object, topped by a very large, dome-shaped and life-like glans complete with rolled ridge, deep split and a tiny eye, was nearly a foot long and the wider base had been fashioned into a globular imitation of a tensed scrotum, just the right size and shape for gripping. The helmeted head itself was more than an inch and a half deep and as big around as a ping-pong ball if not a golf ball. It filled the girl’s palm and she was sure it would barely fit in one of her mother’s delicate demitasse cups.Randy could get her hand around the shaft just under the flared head, but her fingers barely touched near the striated root. When she stroked its smooth surface, she found that. I awoke to a feeling of disorientation. As a businessman, I hadtraveled often, so the feeling of waking up in a strange room ina forgotten city was not uncommon. While that, too, involveddisorientation, this was different. Everything wasdifferent. The sounds, the smells, the very feel of my bodyseemed different than I had ever experienced before. I felt anoverwhelming urge to pee, but the sensation seemed to be comingfrom within my body rather than in my penis.Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.I had awakened lying on my back, and as I shifted to get out ofbed, I felt flesh pooling beneath my ass and something floppingat my chest. Something else was tickling my shoulders andback. There was something short and silky, barely covering mybody. In that sudden moment of self-awareness, I nearly droppedback onto the pillow in a catatonic state. Sitting there on theside of the bed, I knew what had happened to me. What manwouldn't have known?I was a woman.I squeezed.
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