I never imagined the dress would make me into her. That in an instant everything would change.
I decided to go to the party out of desperation and a need to be accepted, even if the invitation promised the chance at humiliation. Come as you aren’t, dress up like the opposite gender.
I needed a dress and I found one, or maybe it found me.
Light and airy, layer upon layer of shimmering fabric that settled on me and changed me. Making me into a vision of beauty and grace.
The dress was magical and it made me feel amazing. It made me feel perfect and whole and myself for the first time in my entire life.
And then the party was a disaster. Set up for my humiliation and I slipped by only because they didn’t know this woman was me.
When my bully cornered me, all tall and broadshouldered and handsome, he was approaching me like I was the woman I appeared to be. He wanted me and my body ached for him, even knowing it wasn’t right.
And knowing that my roommate was outside fighting to get in. Fighting to save me from myself and from humiliation.
I have to choose between them. The strong and powerful man who made my life a misery and my roommate who had always been there for me.
This new body aches for satisfaction. It craves the touch of a man and it doesn’t care which. I want to give myself over to it. I want to feel a man fully and completely.
I want to be a woman, but I don’t know which man I want to make me one.
Excerpt
I explored myself, and as I did the heat built higher.
My body was on fire, the sensitivity in it cranked to eleven. Even the slightest caress on my skin was enough to send me into overdrive, and when my delicate fingers found any spot that was just that much more sensitive I found myself laid gasping and panting for more.
Hands on my breasts, squeezing and feeling their taut firmness. Playing with my nipples and feeling the pleasure and pain rush through my body as I pinched and pulled on them.
Down between my legs and chasing my desire up and down my slit. Patiently building the need inside of me as I teased up and down myself, as I built up the courage to slip a finger inside.
And then the overwhelming sensation as I did just that. As I penetrated myself for the first time and my body responded automatically.
Arching my back and thrashing my head from side to side. Shaking and trembling as I pulled my finger back and then slid it into me again. Finding my rhythm and then bringing a second finger inside of me to join the first while my thumb brushed delicate strokes again and again over my clit.
I was moaning now, loudly enough that a blush came into my cheeks at the noises I was making. Equal parts embarrassment at my desire and the desperate need for more.
I pressed on, my hand that wasn’t between my legs grasping and fondling my breasts as the words came unbidden to my lips.
“More. More. More!”
My head turned to one side and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, seeing a woman pounding with desire and need, pleasuring herself with the desperation of her passion. She was flush and breathing heavily, her breasts bouncing and jiggling with every breath as he hips thrust down to meet the fingers pounding inside of her.
I was close but it was stubbornly far away. And though I had had more pleasure than I had ever had in my life to this point I was desperate in my chase of my climax.
I needed it, more than I had ever needed anything else in my life.
And I knew it was out there, a well of pleasure higher than anything I’d ever experienced before. It was pushing on the edges of me, pressing me on and on in my journey to find it and to find the elusive trigger that would set off the fireworks within me.
The pleasure coursing through my veins was like a thousand of my old climaxes. Burning me up and making me gasp, making my whole body tingle as my whole body experienced it.
As a man, I could count on one hand the number of climaxes that were anything even close to this. Normally it was a pleasure emanating out from a well inside of me, pulsing as I erupted in my final spurts.
But as a woman, it was like my whole body was on fire. Like I was experiencing the fullness of pleasure for the first time. It was like it was more than I could have ever expected or anticipated.
But there was more to come.
Eyes clenched I searched my brain for a trigger, something that would push me over the edge. I played through all of my regular fantasies and desires, the list of women that would occupy my search history in my browser when I decided it was time to pleasure myself.
I could picture each one of them, could remember intimate details of videos that I had seen countless times and had all but memorized by this point.
None of it was enough.
I thought of their skin and their breasts, their sex blush with arousal and their faces aching and crying out for more. I thought of my old self there with them, giving them the pleasure that I had wanted to give to someone for so long and found myself still falling short.
And then something changed.
In my mind’s eye, it wasn’t me there with them any longer.
He was anonymous, built and powerful and forceful. I could picture his body but not his face but then his face didn’t matter right now.
What mattered was what was between his legs and whether he could use it, and it was thick and long and he absolutely could.
The woman beneath him was moaning, crying out for more and scraping her nails down the hard firmness of his body. She was writhing beneath him, taking him and feeling him pound into her and stretch her open.
I felt the rhythm of my fingers match the rhythm of his hips. Felt my perspective grow closer and closer so that I could take in every single detail.
And then I noticed it.
It wasn’t a woman of my dreams anymore, it was the woman of my dreams.
It was me.