Alien Exchange Program

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4| 5-16 Available On

PLEASE NOTE: This is a preview of this novella. It is available for purchase in its entirety via


The foreword to a book is supposed to tell you something about the book. But this one is going to tell you something about the author. Specifically, it's going to share with you the author's frustrations about coming up with titles for books. Thinking up what the book is going to be about is a walk in the park. Writing it is a lot of work, but also a lot of fun. Naming it? Ahhh, now there, is the rub. At least for me.

There are guidelines, of course.

You want the title to be eye catching. If possible, it should be quirky. It would be nice if it is tied closely to some aspect of the book. You want it to be memorable, so people will be able to come up with the right title when they tell their friends about it. It should be the kind of title that appeals to the genre of readers you're trying to appeal to.

For some reason, doing those things is very difficult for me.

This book is an excellent example, and that's what I want to share with you, the kind reader who has chosen this in an effort to find entertainment. But not right now. The examples I have in mind would contain some spoilers. So I'm going to put the rest of this foreword at the very back of the book. Sort of an afterword.

So now, settle back and prepare for a bumpy ride, along with a pair of teenagers to whom something terrible ... and yet wonderful ... happened.

See you at the end.

There is one other thing I'd like to mention here. It is actual foreword type material. To those of us who peruse the kind of book this is, viewing porn on the internet is a "given." By that, I mean most of us who read this kind of entertainment also take it for granted that everybody else has seen the kind of images we see in porn photographs and videos, and learned from those photos and videos the same kinds of information about things sexual that you and I have learned. But that is not the case. There are millions of people out there who, while they may know porn exists on line, do not seek it out. That's usually a personal choice, or, perhaps, something they are taught in the home to avoid. The reasons for that are not important in this setting. What is important is for us to remember there are those kinds of people in the world. This story, in fact, is about such a family.


Chapter One

Ladies and gentlemen, hobos and tramps, cross-eyed crickets and bow-legged ants! I'm here before you, because I'm not behind you, to tell you something I know nothing about.

Actually, that's not true. Actually, I know all about what happened to Carly and Craig Austin. But it's so weird, that I'm still a little freaked out by it all. Hence my somewhat odd opening. But it's appropriate, because the whole story is odd. Except that "odd" doesn't cover it at all. They haven't invented an adjective that's appropriate for what happened to my nephew and niece.

I was sworn to secrecy when I learned of it, but I'll be honest. Keeping this in any longer would drive me crazy. So I've changed the names, and the location, and there's no way you'll ever find out who they really are.

Besides, in one sense, the public has a right to know. I mean, after all, if it happened to Carly and Craig, it could happen to anybody. Including you!

But maybe only if you have a twin.

I don't know. I've thought about this until my brain hurts.

Why don't I just tell you what I know, and maybe you can come up with an explanation that makes more sense than the one we came up with.

It all started while the Austin family was on vacation in Grand Teton National Park. They were hiking, as a family. While it doesn't matter, in terms of the seminal event that changed their lives, the family included Fran, who is my sister, and Jack, who was my best friend in college. That's how he met Fran, when she came to my graduation. They fell hard for each other, got married and had two kids, twins, named Carly and Craig. And that's all the background you really need to know, except that all of them were as normal as the day is long.

I'm rushing. Sorry. I guess I should probably tell you more about the twins, since what happened, happened to them, and that's what I'm going to tell you about.

As I said, they were normal. They were fraternal twins, of course. They were seventeen, when ... the incident ... happened. Craig wasn't on any organized sports teams, but he loved sports and played whatever kind of games he could get others to play. That included sand lot baseball, racket ball, basketball, tennis, pretty much anything that let him explosively use the muscles he had carefully cultivated in the gym. He was a little vain about those muscles, to be truthful. But he worked hard building them and defining them, so I guess he had a right to be proud. He was taller than Carly by probably three inches. He was one of those boys who chafed when the weather was bad and he couldn't go out and burn off the endless supply of energy he seemed to have. You never saw him curled up in a chair, reading a book, unless it was homework and he was required to do that sort of thing.

Carly was shorter, as I said, and not so muscled as her brother. She ran, but that was about it, in terms of physical fitness. That said, she could run Craig into the ground. He was actually the one who got her started, because he kept pestering her to go out with him on long runs. It turned out she loved it, and eventually she started training to run a marathon. When Craig eventually dropped out, shaking his head in amazement, it was at the seven mile mark.

If you saw Craig, the first thing you might think was, "Now there is a guy who spends a lot of time in the weightlifting room at the gym." On the other hand, if you saw Carly, the first thing you wouldn't think was, "Now there is a girl who is so skinny she must be a runner."

You wouldn't think that because she didn't look like your average marathoner. She had curves out the ass. Actually, part of those curves was her ass. Looking at her from the back, at the pool, where clothes didn't cover her up, you saw the classic hour glass figure of a grown woman. From the side, you saw a flat plane from her feet up past her abdomen, until you reached her chest, where mountains grew. If you could take your eyes off those mountains, and looked at her face, you weren't disappointed that you'd stopped looking at her breasts. She was a beautiful young woman, with auburn hair that came clear down to her shoulder blades, and what they call a heart-shaped face, in which sat startling, green eyes.

Craig had the same eyes. And I suppose he was handsome. Being a guy, I'm not sure what constitutes "handsome." I can do "beauty" all day long, but it feels a little gay to apply that to a guy, you know? They were bright, intelligent, got good grades, and were as normal as pie. He was popular with the girls, and she was chased after by all the guys.

Anyway, that's a cursory description of them. That's the basics.

As I said, they were on vacation, and that was normal too. They went somewhere every summer and spent a week camping and hiking. Jack called it "recharging. Fran was just crazy about Jack. She was in pretty good shape too, considering she'd had two kids. But she drove a UPS truck, and got lots of exercise, so hiking wasn't a big challenge for her.

They had been at the park for three days, and had just come back from hiking the trail that went through Garnet Canyon to The Lower Saddle, below the Grand Teton itself. It was a strenuous all day trip, and they were all tired. For that reason, Jack and Fran went to bed early. Or maybe they wanted to get frisky before the kids came to bed. They were all sleeping in one tent.

The kids, of course, being in a little better shape than their parents, or at least younger, stayed up, roasting marshmallows and talking. When they told me what happened, they couldn't remember what they talked about, but it probably doesn't matter. They brought lawn chairs with them when they camped, so they didn't have to sit on the ground or improvised seats.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by a bright light. They described it as if ten or fifteen spotlights had all centered on them at the same time. There was no sound, and they were completely blinded by the light.

The next thing either of them remembered was waking up, still sitting by the camp fire, which was now only ashes. It was early morning. Dew covered everything around them, but neither of them was damp in any way. They weren't chilled, even though they felt the chill immediately, as they woke. They woke at the same time.

The next part is somewhat garbled. You'll understand why in a moment. And, because two people are involved, each telling his or her own story, things are going to shift back and forth between them a bit. I'll try not to jiggle you too much, but be patient. The twins were jiggled a hell of a lot more than you'll be by what happened to them. So count your blessings.

I'll start with Carly.

When she woke, she felt confused. Not the normal kind of confusion we all feel now and then when we transition from being asleep to being awake. This was more like the world-looked-a-little-tilted type of confusion. As her eyes moved around, colors looked a little different. The cooler, for instance. It was blue, but it was a slightly different shade of blue than it had been the night before, when she got the marshmallows out of it.

The next thing she noticed was that her head was lying to the right, on her shoulder. Except it felt wrong, somehow. Her shoulder didn't feel as bony as it normally was. And her head felt too heavy. She thought about all this as she raised her head and looked around. This was when things got weird.

She saw herself sitting beside her, right where she'd been sitting the night before.

She blinked, but the image remained right there. Her image was moving, as if it had just awakened too.

She said, "What?"

Her voice sounded wrong. It felt wrong.

She leaned forward and stood up, pushing herself out of the chair with her hands on the arm rests. Her body was off balance. She almost fell into the ashes of the fire. She froze, trying to get control back, or at least the feel of control and, in the process, looked down. She saw thick, muscled legs and a pair of Nike running shoes.

Except they weren't her legs, and they weren't her shoes.

They were Craig's.

She heard a female voice, next to her say, "What the fuck!" and turned to look at the impossible image of what she could only describe as "herself." She saw her lips move, and, again, heard a female voice say, "What the fuck?!"

I have to take a second to remind you that, while we all "hear" ourselves speak whenever we do it, what issues from our mouths doesn't sound quite like what we hear. What we hear is transmitted through the bones in our skull, for the most part. What others hear is processed through their ears. You know what I'm talking about if you've ever listened to a recording of your voice. It doesn't sound like you. Not to you. But to others, it sounds completely normal. That's why Carly said she heard "a female voice." It was, as it turned out, her voice. She just didn't recognize it as hers. Not at that time.

As odd as it might sound, what bothered her in that few seconds, was that this spitting image of her had used the word "fuck" so casually. She didn't bandy that word around. In fact, she tried not to curse at all. Craig did it all the time, and she thought it made him sound coarse and uneducated. Perhaps it was that feeling that caused her to speak herself.

"Don't curse," she admonished her image.

What she heard, vibrating through the bones of her skull, was not her voice.

It was too deep.

Much too deep.

That was what caused her to lift her hand and look at it.

It wasn't her hand.

It was a male hand, attached to a male arm, a muscled male arm. She leaned over and frantically looked at the rest of her body.

It was also a male body, wearing Craig's T shirt and running shorts.

What's more, there was a huge bulge in the front of the shorts.

Those muscular, big, male hands went to the elastic waistband of the shorts and pulled it outwards.

She found herself staring at an erect, undeniably male, human penis.

That was when she screamed.

When Craig woke up, he felt too light. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was when he moved his head, and found that, somehow, overnight, his hair had grown a foot or two. That was bad enough, but when he looked down at all that hair, spilling down off his shoulder onto his chest, he saw what looked for all the world like ... breasts!

He lifted his hands to feel them, and saw slim, beautiful fingers. The nails had pink fingernail polish on them, and were long and pointed. They continued, even as he goggled, to cup, squeeze and move the bulges on his chest around.

He could feel those hands. What freaked him out the most, though, was when, perhaps unconsciously, his male mind did what his male body liked to do whenever possible. It moved those fingers to find, and then squeeze the area where, in theory, nipples might be.

And when he did, the electric sensation that shot from the tips of ... somehow his breasts ... streaked to his groin.

"What the fuck?!" he said.

Except that it wasn't his voice. It was a girl's voice.

He got it first. He realized that, somehow, overnight, he had become a girl.

"What the fuck?!" he gasped.

He stood, and the message his brain sent to his legs was calculated to lift his normal 180 pounds out of the chair. Except his new body only weighed 115 pounds, and his feet left the ground. It was aided by a male yell, right next to him. It was a sort of "Auuuugh!" that croaked, rather than issued smoothly from the throat.

In a panic, he turned to see who had yelled, and things got ultimately weird.

He stared at himself, standing up and almost falling into the fire.

"What's going on out there?" came a plaintive call from inside the family tent.

Craig looked at the tent. He didn't have enough information yet. Something was terribly wrong. He was pretty sure he was hallucinating, for some reason. But he knew he needed help. He didn't like this hallucination.

"I think I'm sick," he called out.

Again, it wasn't his voice. In the hallucination, when he spoke, it was with the voice of whoever's body he found himself in. A female body! This was one weird dream.

"What's wrong?" That was his mother's voice.

"I think I'm having a bad dream," he said, listening closely to his voice.

"Why did Craig yell?" asked his mother.

"I told you," he said. "I think I'm having a nightmare or something."

"Not you, Carly," said his mother's voice. "I heard Craig yell. What's going on out there?"

That was the first inkling that Craig had that the body he found himself in ... was his sister's body.

Carly was so shocked by the sound of the "scream" she'd produced that she just froze in place. She'd expected, on some unconscious level, to hear a high-pitched squealing kind of noise. You know what I'm talking about. Everybody has heard girls scream. Under the right circumstances, it can sound a lot like a pack of coyotes howling. Or the other way around. Whatever.

But what she heard was like the sound a scared boy might produce.

"What's going on out there?" came a plaintive call from inside the family tent.

She looked over at "herself. That image called out, "I think I'm sick."

"What's wrong?" That was her mother's voice.

She watched herself say, "I think I'm having a bad dream."

"Why did Craig yell?" asked his mother.

That caused her to think about where Craig was. She looked around as her doppelganger said, "I told you. I think I'm having a nightmare or something."

"Not you, Carly," said her mother's voice. "I heard Craig yell. What's going on out there?"

She looked at her hands again. The left one was wearing Craig's favorite ring, a silver skull that she thought was creepy.

She remembered the bright light.

While Craig was realizing he was in his sister's body, his sister was realizing that she was in her brother's body, and that somehow, that bright, white light was responsible for it.

She looked over at her body.

"Craig?" she said, with her male voice ... Craig's voice?

He stared at her.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"What is going on out there?" There was rustling in the tent.

"I think I'm ... you," she said. "And I think you're ... me."

He looked at his hands and arms. His hands went to her breasts, the one's he suddenly had.

"What the fuck?"

"Will you stop saying that?" she hissed.

"This can't be real."

"I'm coming out there!" came the strident voice of their mother. "You two had better have a good reason for making all this racket. You know, some people might still be trying to sleep."

Carly stepped carefully towards her double. Her muscles felt all wrong. She was too heavy. It took concentration to make things work so she didn't stumble or fall down.

She didn't understand how all this had happened, but her mind was acknowledging what had happened. Somehow, her consciousness had been transferred into her brother's brain, while his had moved to her brain. Except she was thinking with her brain, so that wasn't it. Their brains hadn't switched. There were no scars on her clone's forehead ... on her forehead. She struggled with the concept that she wasn't looking at someone who looked like her. She was looking at ... herself!

She had no idea how this had happened, except that it had to have something to do with that white light. Her normal, teenage mind, however, instinctively assumed that, somehow, she was going to be in trouble for all this when her parents found out.

"We're okay," she said, with Craig's voice. "I got a cramp, that's all." She looked at herself. "I think when I yelled, it scared Carly. I mean it gave her a bad dream, or woke her up from one or something like that."

"Why are you two up so early in the first place?" asked her father.

"We were going for a run," she said.

Their mother came out of the tent. She looked a trifle sleepy.

"So you got up early to go for a run, but somehow, Carly went back to sleep and had a bad dream, which you woke her from by yelling loudly enough to wake the dead. Which, by the way, you still haven't explained. You two are up to something. I can tell."

Their father came out of the tent, stretching. There might be some tomfoolery going on, but his priorities were different than his wife's.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked.

He was no slouch, though, and, having broached the most important subject, he commented further.

"And why are you kids wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday? Didn't you bring enough changes? I've told you time and time again that changing clothes is important when you can't take a shower every day."

Carly knew that the jig was up. She had enough on her mind already. Trying to come up with a bunch of lies to answer her parents' questions was just too much for her to deal with, in the present circumstances.

"I think we fell asleep out here last night," she said.

"You think you slept out here last night?" Her mother's skepticism was plain to hear. "Are you two on drugs?" Now there was tragedy in her voice.

"No!" she heard herself say. She looked at herself. Or at Craig. This was going to get confusing.

"Sit down," she said. "We have something we need to tell you about."

"Oh my God, Jack, they are high on drugs!" moaned their mother.

"No we're not," said Carly. "But you may wish we were when we tell you what happened."

Carly knew they were going to have to try to explain things. But she didn't have a clue as to how she was going to do that. She needed more information. The pain in her groin gave her a chance to delay the inevitable.

"But first, I have to pee," she said.

"I can tell," said her father, looking at her hips.

She looked down. That obscene bulge was still there. She had ... an erection! It was crazy. The term "morning wood" popped into her mind. Craig had said something about that sometime in the past. She hadn't understood it then, and she didn't understand it now, but apparently, that's what she had. She had seen Craig "make adjustments" to his groin before, moving things around so they weren't so noticeable. Boys got boners all the time, and Craig was no different.

She stared at the bulge again. The tip of "her" penis was pressed tightly against the cloth. It looked disgusting. Intuitively, she realized that, if she lifted the thing upwards, at least it wouldn't stick out quite as much.

She reached into Craig's shorts and gingerly grasped Craig's penis with thumb and one finger. She could feel it, though, and she realized that thinking about that penis as "Craig's" was wrong. It was hers now.

That was pretty disgusting too.

"Craig!" barked their mother. "Have a little tact, please!"

Carly looked up to see that her mother had observed her handling her penis.

"Sorry," she croaked. She looked over at her body. "Carly has to pee too," she said, meaningfully, looking at herself. Or at him. This was going to be confusing. "Don't you ... Carly? Don't you need to go to the bathroom?"

She watched "her" head turn, and "her" hands came up to lift "her" hair and look at it. They clumsily tossed it over her shoulder. His shoulder.

This was already confusing.

"We'll tell you all about it when we get back," she said. "Come on, Jewels." She used his pet name for her, based on her middle name, which was Jewel. She secretly loved that nickname, but publicly complained about it. She had known that, if she complained, he'd keep using it. He had, and she did now.

"I'm not -" He made her voice sound reedy. Plus she didn't want him to finish that sentence, because she knew what he was going to say, and if he said it, they'd never get this chance to talk, to exchange information. To try to figure out how on Earth they were going to explain all this to their parents.

"Come on!" she blurted, interrupting him. "Let's go. I'm going to pee your pants if we don't hurry."

"What?" Her mother's surprise was obvious. "What do you mean ... pee his pants? "

"I meant he'll pee his pants," she said, hurriedly. She was going to have to stop thinking about him as her.

She took his hand, and briefly marveled at how big her hands were now. She was also surprised at how soft his hands felt. Her hands.

This was impossible!

Neither of them saw the look that Fran and Jack exchanged, as their children moved off, hand in hand. It was a look every parent would have recognized, that look parents give their children when it's obvious something strange is going on, but you haven't figured out what that is yet.

Carly waited until they were out of earshot.

"We've switched bodies somehow," she whispered urgently.

"That can't be," he said.

"Look at us!" she hissed.

He looked at her. She knew he was seeing his own body, as if in a mirror. Except he was holding his own hand.

"Well , switch us back!" he said.

"Don't you think that if I knew how to do that, I'd have done it already?"

"Well how did this happen?"

"Remember that bright light last night?"


His sloppy speech sounded strange, coming from her lips.

"What do you remember after that light surrounded us?"

He was silent for a couple of heartbeats.

"I can't remember anything until I woke up."

"Me either," she said.

It was quiet longer as they both tried to wrap their minds around things.

"You think we were abducted by aliens or something? That always involves bright lights."

"In the movies," she said, dismissively.

"Well do you have a better explanation?"


"Well, there you go, then. Aliens abducted us and did experiments on us and switched our minds."

"That can't be true," she moaned.

"Why not?"

"Because if that's what happened, then I'm going to be stuck in your body forever!"

A silence of at least five seconds ticked by this time.

"Fuck," he said softly.

"Would you please stop cursing with my mouth?" she groaned.

"Whatever," he said, dismissively. "We're fucked, Carly. If we can't figure out a way to change back, we're just fucked. Those aliens might have abducted us once, but they don't come back for seconds. Or if they do, it's years and years later, so they can see how you have progressed."

She started crying, and let go of the soft hand she already missed having. Her fingers came up to wipe at the tears spilling out of her eyes.

"Hey! Don't do that!" he complained.

"What?" She sniffled.

"You're making me cry. Don't make me cry. That's not manly. You're making me look like a wimp."

"We're stuck in each other's bodies and all you care about is me making your stupid body look like a wimp?"

"I have a reputation to keep up," he said, sounding injured.

"No ... I have a reputation to keep up," she said, her voice gravely. "This is my body now, and there is no way I'm going to be all macho and strut around like I'm better than everybody else."

"I don't do that," he scoffed.

"That's exactly what you do," she argued. "But not me."

"People will think I'm gay if you make my body act like you do."

"So maybe you are? Just because I'm in your body doesn't mean I've stopped liking guys."

"You can't do that," he said, horrified. "You can't go out with guys while you're in my body. I'd just die of shame."

"So you're going to give up girls?" She arched one eyebrow at him.

"No," he said, automatically. He started thinking about that. "It's different for girls. Girl on girl is sexy."

She wanted to argue with him, but her bladder was sounding alarm bells.

"I have to pee!" she moaned.

She took off running. By now the bathroom was only fifteen yards away.

She went in the women's side automatically. She didn't even think about it until she had to negotiate new ground in actually urinating.

She shut herself into a cubicle and dropped her shorts as usual. Then things got weird.

Don't roll your eyes. I'm aware things were already weird. But, up until that time, she had barely touched her new appendage with her bare hand. And, to be honest, that had been so quick that it hadn't sunk in yet.

Now, though, she not only had to touch it, she had to manipulate it. Most of us don't think of "urination" as anything special, but in Carly's case that first time of peeing as a male - was actually a sort of event in her life.

First off, it was long, and thick, and ... just hard. That alone was fascinating. She found she had to grasp the thing, to aim it down, lest it just fountain up all over the place. It felt very weird in her hand. She'd touched a penis before, during a date. She'd even jacked off the boy, who showed all the signs of not being able to control his urges. She only did that, though, because she was afraid that if she didn't, he'd force himself on her. She had never gone out with him again.

But what she'd done then seemed like a shadowy memory. It had been fast, and furious, so the details were fuzzy. Now she could almost leisurely inspect a penis. Except that her bladder was killing her.

Gingerly she aimed it, and tried to relax. She'd been holding it so long it took her a frustrated minute to get anything going. At least the relaxing part of things seemed to feel normal.

Once it started, she stared at it in amazement. The stream was so strong it shocked her. It felt just as good as it had, to do this thing when she was in her own body, but at the same time things were different. She could feel the movement of the urine through the penis, which was long and both soft and rock hard, all at the same time.

She felt splatters on her hand, and realized it was backsplash. She was horrified. How did boys manage this wild, unruly thing?

Then the stream slowed, and she let herself relax some more. She inspected her penis. It had a foreskin, which only let part of the head show. At the tip of that exposed head, her yellow urine finally came to a halt. Something inside her demanded to be flexed, and when she did, another spurt was ejected. She could feel the penis getting softer already, which compounded the relief of having an empty bladder. Now maybe it would lie down and be good in her pants.

She thought briefly about the clothes she was going to have to wear from now on.

She decided her brother needed to go shopping for something decent to add to his wardrobe.

Next door, in the men's side of the campground restroom, which Craig had also gone into automatically, he went first to a urinal, and then realized how fruitless that was. Then, once he was in a stall, he sat, fumbling, trying to figure out what to hold while he peed. There was nothing. All he could do was sit and hope that the stream went where it was supposed to.

He looked down at his crotch. Except it wasn't his crotch. It was his sister's. He was staring at his sister's pussy! It was incredible.

His complaining bladder finally opened up, and a yellow stream issued from between fat, closed pussy lips. It felt almost like it did when he didn't skin his foreskin back before peeing. He didn't like that feeling, and it made his cock smell bad. He looked at the lips, thinking he might be able to spread them apart and improve the sensation.

But he couldn't bring himself to touch that pussy. It was his sister's pussy. He just couldn't think of it any other way.

Not that he was averse to the idea of seeing her pussy. He'd tried to figure out ways to sneak a peek at her naked body for years. But she was always covered, either by a towel, or a robe or PJs or something.

Now he owned her body. But he still couldn't touch her pussy. His pussy? No way. He just couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that that was his pussy. He remembered squeezing the breasts earlier and looked at them. They looked huge, unmanageable, in the way. On impulse, he lifted his shirt. There was a bra there, which suddenly intruded on his consciousness. He could feel the bra, stretching tightly around his body.

His hands went to pull, and suddenly big, white breasts fell free. He stared. They were gorgeous. The nipples were pink. Fingers went to tease them, and again he felt that twang of sensation run between those nipples and where the urine was now only dripping.

He realized he'd have to wipe and got some toilet paper.

It took him a full minute to actually use it, dabbing it ineffectually, at first, to sop up the remaining urine between his labia.

Next door, his sister was gingerly using a piece of toilet paper to dab at the tip of her penis.

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