I’m staring in the mirror at a reflection I recognize. I’ve never seen this woman in my life before, but she’s occupied my dreams for so long. I’ve become the woman of my fantasies.
Sure I can be a bit harsh, a bit dominant and abrasive, but I do it because I want to make the world a better place. People are naive and submissive, they’re practically begging for me to exert my will, to dominate their lives completely.
My roomate is one of those weak people. A nerd who somehow manages to draw in these beautiful women. He doesn’t deserve them and I show him that, I peel each one away from him and into my arms.
They can’t help but fall all over themselves for me. Wanting my power and my body. Wanting me to show them what a real man can do.
I might have pushed a little far this last time, stealing his girl right in front of him. But he has taken things way too far. This is a level beyond what I dreamed he would do to me.
Turning me into a woman. Claiming that all he did was unlock my secret desires. Making me more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen before.
But how can he know what I dream of at night? How can it be that my wildest fantasy has come true? How can this part that I’ve hidden and locked away for so long be so real and present?
How can I resist the cravings that come from being her?
Excerpt
This wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. It was real.
But it couldn’t be all real. There had to be something of me still in here. This was so far past the realm of reality that there had to be something remaining of me.
Some part of my body that was still me.
In a panic I pulled at my clothing, tossing it aside and shaking as I turned to the mirror and turned around in sight of it. I examined myself from every angle, but I couldn’t find an inch of me that wasn’t a woman.
Her ass, full and plump. Her waist, tiny and tight. My rigid abs replaced by a smooth and toned stomach. My firm pecs gone and in their place breasts that were full and spilling off of my chest but staying high and perky all at the same time, capped with nipples that were tiny and pink.
And between my legs, the absence of my cock. It’s sizable length and girth gone entirely and a neat little slit of a pussy in its place.
Goddammit, he’d done it. He’d turned me into a woman.
And he’d made me gorgeous, or maybe that had been my inclinations all along.
I’ve been with many women in my life, my bedpost is covered in metaphorical notches, but this woman was something else. She was on another level.
She was gorgeous to a degree that I’d never seen before, the sort of woman who could grace runways and magazine covers and who could be at peace in any environment. Classy and seductive, who could melt your heart with a glance.
If I saw this woman out there on campus, well even I might lose my ability to form words.
It’s strange, being turned on by your own body. Realizing that the sight of you alone can make you melt and make your knees weak.
I’d caught a glimpse of it from time to time when I was working out because I’m a good looking man and I can admit that I’m attractive to myself. But it paled in comparison to the woman of my dreams, the woman that I had become.
And me being turned on manifested in her body. Her pale skin getting a red flush. Her shivering and shaking shifting from fear to need and arousal. Her teeth finding her bottom lip and biting while her hands clenched into fists and her thighs squeezed together.
It was wrong to do this, but it felt so right. I shouldn’t want to do this, but I needed it all the same.
And I was alone in here, alone with what was evidently my deepest desire. So it was only natural that my thoughts turned to one thing and one thing alone.
Pressing my back up against the cool bathroom wall behind me I traced my fingertips over my body. Feeling the spring in my form and feeling my body respond to touch for the very first time.
Nipples hardening as I teased them. Stomach tensing as I slid down it. Thighs parting as I dipped between them and my mouth falling open as I brushed against my sex.
And oh god it felt amazing.