A Pleasant Dream

Last night, after a rare lovemaking session with my wife, during which I fantasized about being the woman, I drifted to sleep remembering my old fantasies about becoming a lesbian.

I dreamed about T__ dressing me up in a pink bralette and panties, in good humor. I think I even had on a blonde wig for a while. I was happy and relieved that she accepted me like this. I put on a t-shirt and pants over it so that others wouldn't know, and I asked T__ if my bra straps were visible. "Of course your bra straps are visible, everybody can see them, silly!" she answered, not at all bothered by it. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the wide, satiny straps on my shoulders, not even close to being concealed by the unusually wide neck of my t-shirt. In retrospect, I know that women's t-shirts are often cut that way, so I suppose I might have been wearing one of those. In the dream, however, the point was to cover up my feminine undergarments, but even still I wasn't much bothered that my bra straps showed, because T__ was on board. My mother was visiting, and I still didn't want her to know, so I did hide from her, but I wasn't stressed out about it. I think I realized that I couldn't prevent her from seeing me, so I just happily went about my business, bra straps exposed for all the world to see. Then I met a famous woman singer/songwriter who doesn't really exist, and fawned all over her, telling her what a huge fan I was of her music, and how much influence she had on me in my early adulthood. I was ever conscious of my femininity, and happy and free and proud of it, even as I chatted with this famous person.

It was a wonderful feeling, and I'm still bathing in its afterglow!

Almost Caught

My wife has a reasonably predictable schedule. Since I got her pregnant, she's been going to a particular place for some exercise twice a week. I have often taken advantage of these 2-hour absences to frolic girlishly in my secret stash of lingerie and swimwear. As I noticed her preparing to leave a couple of days ago, my heart leaped with anticipation for the fun I was about to have.

Janet Leigh wearing a gorgeous teddy in A Touch of Evil

No sooner did she leave did I retrieve my secret stash from its difficult-to-reach hiding place. I eagerly stripped out of my male clothes, and pondered my many feminine options. I had ivory satin on my mind from a scene in an old film noir I had just watched, so I chose my matching panty and bra set. It wasn't really anything like in the movie, except for the color and fabric. I put on my fishnet pantyhose and my little black dress, and finally my lovely 4 1/2 inch heels.

I figured I had a plenty of time to savor my femininity, so I pranced around like this for some time. I made myself a cup of tea, and tried (but failed) to take pictures of myself in my outfit. I love how my shoes make my ass stick out, and how lovely it looks in my LBD, and I wanted to capture it for posterity. I fiddled around with this for a little while and gave up because I wasn't getting the photos quite right.

By now I had worked myself up into quite a lather, so I retired to the bedroom, and wanked. I had just cleaned up the semen, and taken off my dress, when I heard the unmistakable sound of keys fiddling in the front door! And here I was in the bedroom with my stash on the floor, wearing high heels, fishnet pantyhose, satin panties and a bra! I had to hide myself and all my stuff, and fast.

I picked up my stash, and locked myself in the bathroom. I frantically stripped out of my girl clothes, as quietly as possible, and shoved them into my overflowing secret stash box. I had trouble closing it properly because of the haphazard way in which I threw everything in. Once I got it to close and snapped it shut, I noticed a baby blue ribbon from my garter slip sticking out the side. So now I had this ridiculous box, with nowhere to hide it in this small bathroom! She would undoubtedly see my stash box, and wonder what it is and why it's there, and what the blue ribbon is sticking out of it. I was carefully shoving it into a cabinet, the only one where it might fit and not be immediately obvious, when she finally came looking for me.

"Honey," she said from the other side of the door, "you seem to have lost your clothes. What are you doing?"

"I'm taking a crap," I replied, voice quivering, much too close to the door, still trying to conceal my stash box, and making all kinds of suspicious noises.

"Are you O.K.?"

I muttered something in response, and heard her walk away to the other bathroom. "You're funny," she said. I took this opportunity to finish hiding my stuff, put on a sweaty t-shirt I had hanging on the hook on the back of the door, and came out of the bathroom. I wasn't wearing anything but the shirt. She came back as I was putting my pants back on.

"What's wrong," she asked, concerned. "You're so pale! And you're all clammy. Are you sick?"

"Uh, yeah. It must have been something I ate."

"Hey, didn't I make the bed earlier? Did you take a nap or something?"

"Umm, yeah, I was feeling bad,so I had to lie down for a bit."

I couldn't believe I was getting away with this so easily! My heart was pounding as she comforted me in my presumed sickness. I think I was trembling a bit, too. She gave me a couple of almonds to eat, which she had read are good for digestion, and which she happened to be munching on at the time. They were like ashes in my mouth. "I need some water," I said, and stumbled to the kitchen, relieved that she was following me. I poured myself a glass from the tap, and gulped it down. Even that was difficult, but it did help me play sick.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "I leave for half an hour, and all Hell breaks loose!"

Things settled down after that. She's 8 months pregnant, and no longer feeling very mobile, so she sat on the sofa to watch some TV and catch up on Facebook. This gave me a chance to eventually move my stash box from the bathroom to a closet, where I could hide it a little bit better and less conspicuously. But then I worried about it constantly for the next few hours, and eventually moved it somewhere better. I couldn't put it back to its normal place without making a ruckus.

My wife isn't stupid. She surely suspects that I was jerking off in her absence. But bless her heart, she hasn't mentioned it since. This stage of her pregnancy makes it pretty hard for us to be properly intimate, so she knows I'm losing my mind from lack of sex. But at least she still has no idea that I'm a sissy. Somehow, especially now, it would be disastrous if she found out.

The icing on the cake: she now habitually wears some of my t-shirts to bed, because her pregnant belly is so huge that her own pajamas no longer fit around it. Funny how that works, isn't it?

"I miss my clothes," she whines as we cuddle in bed.

"What's the matter? You don't like mine?"

"You don't have dresses, skirts, and pretty shoes!"

Considering how shell-shocked I was (and still am) about that day's incident, I couldn't even look her in the eye as I freaked out inside. "Do you wish I did?" I asked, not hopefully, but accusingly.

Sadly, and predictably, she answered, "No."

Fiction: Baby Steps

What happens if you keep going that extra little bit too far...

It all goes in baby steps.

Damn, she's so sexy in those panties.  And they look so erotic just lying there on the chair, flung so carelessly in a moment of passion.  I pick them up, just to feel the soft silk in my hands.  I'm so turned on by this item of pure femininity.  I touch it to my cock.  Heaven.  Just a couple of strokes... oh, yeah, that's good.  Like my cock inside her soft smooth cunt skin.  I'm still stroking.  Uh oh.  Time to clean up.

I have defiled my girlfriend's underwear.  What can I say?  It's certainly erotic.  I just have to be careful not to come all over it again.  She'll think it's weird.  I will hide the evidence in the laundry, and forget this ever happened.

There's so much more to panties than the texture.  I like to fondle the shape, and imagine her pussy inside it, and her hips, and her belly, and her thighs.  Crumpling it up against my cock just doesn't let me appreciate them as much.  How can I feel this silkiness on my cock without wrinkling and mangling them?  How can I fondle them as if her body is in them?  I need a mannequin.  Damn, that would be pretty creepy.  I want to feel her cunt!  I want to fuck it!  Now I'm rubbing the absorbant part that's on the crotch against my dick.  Her pussy touches this!  I want to touch it!  I want to caress her ass, the curves that converge on that spot!  How can I do it?  I want this femininity all over me!  I want to be surrounded by it, in its most concentrated form.  I want to feel her body all over me.  I can't rub them on me hard enough.  I'm not getting enough girlieness!  I'm stepping into them.  I'm grinding against them, and OH MY GOD, it feels so good!  Oh my GOD, the femininity is all over me, and I couldn't get away from it if I even wanted to!  I have never been so aroused in my life!  I am worshipping her girlishness!  I am wearing her panties!  And I love it!  I can't take it anymore... And now there's a mess all over, and I'm thoroughly disgusted with myself.

Two months later.  I don't know what possessed me.  But I haven't been able to shake it ever since.  It felt so sexy.  I could imagine what it must feel like to be a girl, all sleek and smooth and curvy.  It didn't hurt that her panties are unlike anything I've ever  felt before: so ridiculously smooth, and form fitting.  I have to be careful never to do that again.  I don't want to compromise my manhood any more than I already have.  How depraved and disgusting.

There they are again, beckoning me.  I still can't believe I wore them.  They're so indescribably feminine.  I've surely broken something inside myself by wearing them.  How can I ever consider myself a true man again?  But then again, how can an inert piece of cloth possibly change anything?  It's just a little silk cloth.  So why am I so compelled by them?  Why do they make me so nervous?  Why am I so fucking horny all of a sudden?  What happens to a man when he's exposed to such overwhelming femininity?  It can't possibly make the slightest bit of difference.  I'm sliding them on, hesitantly, tentatively.  I can't do this again.  I can't risk it.  A few strokes, and I take them off.  That was easy, wasn't it?  I felt the feminine, and I resisted.  Let's try that again.  Oh God.  No.  I can't handle it.  Whew.  They're off again.  I put them away, and let's think about her some more.  How wonderful she looks in those panties.  I'm caressing myself, grinding into the bed, naked.  How amazing they felt on my hips... Oh yeah, that's much better.  Thank God I didn't wear them.

It's three months later.  I've just had a bit of a scare.  I almost wore her panties again.  Damn, it felt so fucking good!  I jerked off like crazy, but I'm still so unsatisfied.  What can I do?

I resisted enough.  I know for sure that I can control these urges.  I might as well give in every now and then, no?  That's not going too far.  I mean, it is just silk.  So what if it's worn only by women.  I can't believe I'm doing this again!  I feel so relieved now that I am wearing them.  I want her femininity!  To hell with my fears!  I want it!  It feels incredible when I picture her body, and I can feel it in my hands, too.  It's like I'm fondling her.  It's like my body is now hers!  Oh!  It's like I'm channelling her body through her underwear!  It's making me her!  YES!  This is what it's like to be female!  OH YES... What have I done to myself?

It's three months and a day later, and I've finally given in again.  I've been pining for that orgasm for weeks.  I can no longer tell myself that it was a one-time deal.  I'm sure it's perfectly normal.  I think about her all the time.  It's not like I'm becoming a fag or anything.  It just feels really good on my body.  I guess now I know why girls love their lingerie: it's all about the texture.  It's too bad that men can't have silk and satin and lace underwear that fits like that, cuz I'd wear it all the time.  I'm sure this is all perfectly normal; all the same, she can't ever find out that I've done this.  I swear I'll never wear those panties again.

It's such a shame that I have sworn to never touch those black silk panties of hers ever again.  I guess I'll just have to imagine... Just imagine wearing panties again.  Not just those black silk ones... anything!  It's so naughty!  I'd be in such serious trouble if I was really wearing panties again!  It would be so exquisite!

Damn, how I miss those panties.  It's just not the same without them.  I know, I know, it's dangerously faggy.    I know it's undermining my manhood.  But that's exactly what I fucking love about it!  I'm so naughty, I've worn women's underwear!  And I just know that it's turning me into a girl!  Oh God!  I'm turning into a girl!  And I want to come just thinking about it!

Three weeks after that last entry.  This is really starting to scare me.  Not a day goes by that I don't fantasize about putting on those panties.  The things that go through my mind!  I might as well be wearing them, for all the perverted thoughts I've had.  But no, I won't give in.  There's too much at stake.

What harm could there be if I wear these panties again?  I've done it before !  I put them on so shamelessly!  I can't believe I starved myself for so long.  What a feast we shall have tonight!

The very next fucking day!  I made a vow to myself, and I broke it.  I have now officially lost a part of my manhood.  I swear that I will never do that again.  I'll go double or nothing: I'll never give in again; if I do, I willingly accept to lose double the masculinity.  I'm that confident that I'll succeed.  Otherwise, I'll be twice as feminine, and who knows what that will lead to.

Clearly, that kind of deal will lead to me being twice as feminine.  Just think: I've only worn one pair of women's underwear, so how feminine can I be?  Imagine how much more fun it would be if I were twice as girlish?  I could wear other panties!  Like those pink flowery lace ones!  Or the sheer white thong!  I'm sorry, but with those kinds of benefits, I don't see the point in stopping.

Twenty minutes later.  That was fucking hard, wasn't it?  At least that should satisfy me for a while. 

The lacy panties are, believe it or not, even more exquisitely sexy on me than the black satin.  Now that I'm twice the girl, I get twice the fun.  I'm not beating around the bush with this anymore.  I have now reached a whole new level of femininity!  And it feels fantastic!

A month later.  I'm now drawn to all her underwear.  I've got to stop at two.  I already know far too much about wearing women's underwear than I'm comfortable with.

It's such a shame that she's wearing the ones I've already tried.  Tsk-tsk.  I guess I have no choice.  I'll have to put on some others.  Why limit myself?

Six months later.  I think I've tried on all of her sexy panties by now.  Each time I tell myself that it's the last time, but I come back anyway.  I can't let this become a habit, or she'll surely catch me in the act.

Aw, panties again?  Sure, they're lots of fun, but I want some excitement!  How about that bikini bottom?  Yes, it's a very big step, going from just innocent panties to a bathing suit.  But I'm in so deep now that there's no point in resisting.  Still, with all my experience, I tremble with the bikini panties in my hands.  This is so feminine that I can hardly fathom what I'm getting into.  Oh, yes!  This is sweet!  How will I ever explain this one?

Two weeks later.  It's bad enough that I wear panties almost every other day now, but I'm now trying on swimwear!  No more for me.  I don't care how good it feels.

I couldn't possibly do without this for 48 hours anymore!  Wasn't it only yesterday that I utterly effeminated myself by wearing panties?  And also the day before?  And the day before that?  Don't tell me now that it's not having an effect.  I'm hooked.  I'm turning into a girl!  The more I do this, the more irreversible it gets!

Three months.  I'm a fiend.  This is better than sex now.  I can't believe she doesn't know.  As long as it's a secret, I should be fine.  If she finds out, I'm toast.

Only a true girl would wear panties like this all day long!  They feel so nice under my regular yucky boy pants.  Nobody knows!  Tee-hee!  Only I know what a wretched little t-gurl I've become.

A month later.  Busted.  She cried for days.  She got amorous and started undressing me, and found her own panties in my pants.  What could I say?  There's no conceivable explanation.  So now she knows.  I don't know what will come of it.  I have promised to stop.  I only hope that I can keep my promise.

Who would've thought that a one-piece bathing suit could feel so agonizingly feminine?  I love the way it sleeks out my waist, and covers my nipples.  This is a new favourite.  Too bad about that promise, eh?  This is so radically different from just plain old panties and bikini bottoms.  And it's so unmistakably feminine!

Another month.  I'm such a scoundrel.  But it's all I can think about!  Those swimsuits are a force to be reckoned with!  Anyway, we weren't getting along.  It's too bad she had to move on, but frankly, I think I'll be fine.

I'm dying for some action!  It's time for a wardrobe.  Let's go shopping.  First, some panties.  No problem.  They can just think I'm buying lingerie for my girl.  Which is exactly what I'm doing, in a way.  The bathing suits are going to be a bit trickier.  They'll just have to wait.

A week.  I now have women's underwear in my dresser, and it's all mine.  I bought it.  For myself.  And you know what?  I'm cool with that.  As long as word doesn't get around.  I wear them for comfort, not some sick fetish.

Funny that my days always culminate in me getting sexual gratification out of my “comfortable” underwear.  Swimsuits are comfortable too, and it's time to get one.

A week.  I'll admit, it is pretty cracked.  There was no way to appear normal in a bathing suit store full of girls, shopping for a one-piece woman's bathing suit.  I was nervous, I was sweating.  They know.  They can tell.  So maybe I do have a bit of a fetish.  At least I don't know them, and they don't know me.

I miss her bikini bottom.  It was so snug and cozy.  I guess I'll just have to imagine it...

Three weeks.  Imagine their surprise when the weird guy came looking for bikinis.  Now they know for sure.  They were giggling at me this time.  They have no doubt now.  Fuck them!  At least I know what pleases me!  It took so long, too, to pick out a bra.  I have to at least pretend that I'm buying for a girl, even if they don't believe me.  It's too bad I had to get one, because God knows I'll never go so far as to wear one.  It's strictly for down there.

Now that I have my hard-earned bikini bottom on, I feel sorta half-naked.  The bra is just kinda sitting there.  I was going to throw it away.  I mean, I don't have any boobies to cover, so why bother?  Only girls need to wear those.  I tremble as I put it on.  With great difficulty.  Now, there can no longer be any pretense.  I am wearing a bra.  It matches my bikini bottom.  I'm full-on wearing a female outfit.  I am doing it because I want to feel feminine.  And good Goddess, does it ever feel feminine!  I explode with girlishness now.  I am hooked.  I give up.  This is what I want. 

Three hours.  I don't want to take it off.  I like it.  A lot.  I can't believe that I'm wearing a full bikini!  And it turns me on, even after coming three times!  This is truly amazing.  I admit it.  I love to wear women's clothes.  I love feeling feminine.  But seriously, it has to remain a secret.  I'll have to enjoy this alone. 

How could I have worn panties so long without one of these bras?  Oh my god, this is so fucking female!!  What other delights have I deprived myself of?

A week.  I just now found myself compelled to buy tops to match my panties.  I am now a consumer of brassieres.  This is completely out of control.  What if somebody saw me?

What a binge!  It'll take me days to try on all these pretty tops!  Bras, bodices, corsets, bustiers, teddies!  I'm in heaven!

A day later.  I now officially have more articles of female undergarments than male.  What a ridiculous situation.  It's not like I even really wear the gitch anymore.  I should at least hold on to it in case of emergency.

Now I have no choice but to wear panties every single day, at all times.  It's so liberating to be rid of that ugly men's underwear!  Long live lingerie!

Two weeks later.  Well, now I've got more space in my dresser.  I can't possibly go much further.  What will I do if I ever have a girl over?

I couldn't possibly be without some article of femininity for any prolonged amount of time, could I?  That's why nightgowns are so important.  Now I can sleep in lingerie, wake up, and put on some panties that I'll wear all day.  I'm such a fag!

Three months.  This is getting ridiculous.  Fags are hitting on me now.  They never have before.  It can't be a coincidence.  I'm getting carried away when I think about what my underwear looks like.  And maybe the bra shows, after all.  Too bad I don't have any guy underwear anymore, to go back to. 

This body hair is so disgusting.  I want smooth silky girlie legs.  And belly.  And arms.  I can't shave this much, and it'll grow back all scratchy.  This Nair ought to do the trick.  Oh my Goddess!  I feel so naked!  I can't believe I've done this!  This is so feminine!  I have girls' legs now!

A month.  This is getting really scary.  Now I can't even change in front of other men at the gym.  How can I possibly explain the lack of body hair?  I know that bodybuilders do it, but I'm no bodybuilder.  I'll enjoy it while I can, but it'll have to grow back.

Wow, do bare legs every look good in stockings!  I can't believe I didn't try this sooner!  It was so gross with all that hair in there before.  Now my legs look positively female.  Oh Goddess!  I can finally wear that garter belt and not be embarrassed!

A day.  Great.  Now I've worn just about everything that can be found in a lingerie shop.  I'm clean of body hair.  People can tell.  But God know I'll never admit what I'm doing!

What's the point of wearing stockings without some pretty heels?  Sandals would show off my toes.  But that's so feminine!  Do I dare?  This saleslady is looking at me funny.  Hasn't she ever seen a man browsing women's shoes?  She looks a bit uneasy and embarrassed when she asks me if I'd like to try some on.  She does not tell me that they're women's shoes.  I make up some lie about dressing up for some masquerade, but I can tell she doesn't believe me.  But it's ok.  At least I know they'll fit me.  It doesn't bother me if a few key salespeople know!  I need to keep my wardrobe up to date, after all!

Two weeks.  How humiliating!  Everyone in the shoe store now knows what I'm doing.  Not only have I bought the skankiest strappy sandals and fuck-me boots in the store, but I tried them on!  And they even commented on the stockings I had on under my jeans!  I must keep this private!  Good thing I can't even walk in heels!

I look and feel like a dominatrix in the FMB's, and a club skank or even a hooker in the strappies!  Who knew that footwear could be so sexy?  I am so overwhelmingly feminine now!  There is absolutely no turning back now!  What more can I possibly do?!?

Three days.  I'm clomping around in the mall in women's fuck-me boots, just barely covered up by my jeans.  Everybody can see the three-inch heels, and the pointy toe.  I get funny looks from lots of people.  But I also have a huge boner, so I don't care.  It's not like I'm too obvious.

The saleslady wouldn't let me use the change room to try on the clothes I'd picked out.  She said it would be improper.  I can't believe I asked her to!  I wasn't thinking, I was too excited.  The little black dress will be so stunning on me, as will the blouse and miniskirt.  It's ok, I'm sure they'll fit me anyway.  If not, I'll just exchange them!

A week.  So I've now worn it all.  My makeup skills are getting pretty acceptable.  Nobody says anything about the cut of my jeans or shirts, even though they are for girls.  I am officially a total transvestite.  I haven't had the balls to go out in a dress or skirt, but I've come pretty close.  At least I do this because I love girls.  Hard to explain how this is all a result of extreme heterosexuality.

There is something about Andrew that makes my legs quiver.  I've only ever fantasized about this before.  In public I still can't help but stare at other girls, and get jealous about what they're wearing.  I'm not even wearing a dress, and I think he likes that.  He's so flaming gay!  But there's something erotic about him, about the way he carries himself. 

Two months.  What the hell is happening to me?  I can't stop thinking about Andrew!  It feels just like it felt when I met my ex-girlfriend!  I have a crush on a man!  I can't let it continue.  I have to avoid him.

I melted in his arms when he kissed me.  I knew what he really wanted.  I clutched at his cock.  Oh, how I've longed to have another man's cock in my hand!

A week.  I'm excited about what's happening.  Here I sit, wearing a little miniskirt and a halter top and strappy sandals, wondering how I became a fag.  I think of little more than cock now.  I fantasize about it rubbing against my butt cheeks, about how it must taste.  I want to rub cock all over my ultra-feminine body.  In a way, I wish I really did have a pussy; in another way, I'm extremely turned on by the idea that I'm a flaming faggot who wants a cock rammed up his tight little asshole.  How did I become so gay!  Why do I love it so much!

I have never come so much in my entire life.  My little prick is so sore from it that it hurts to pee.  I came twice with his cock in my mouth.  I didn't know how to swallow, but what came out of my mouth I spread on his cock and his chest and lapped it all up.  I came again when he merely touched my butt cheek with his knob.  I came again when he got in all the way, even though it hurt.  Just the thought of having a penis inside me made me come, let alone actually having it there.  His pumping made me howl like a she-wolf, and come at least twice more.  Then when I felt him pumping his semen deep inside me, I came again.  We tried a few different positions, with always the same result.  He's exhausted now.  So am I, but I want more, can you believe it?  And I just know that as fun as this is, it would be even better if I were a girll, and taking him in my cunt.

We've been a couple for about a month now.  He barely satisfies me.  He's not happy about me taking the hormones, either.  He's not pleased about me growing boobs to fit into my many brassieres, and he's certainly not happy about the prospect of me having a pussy.  Tough luck!

Fantasy: Converted

You've seen all sorts of pictures.  You've spent countless hours busily downloading them.  You stare for hours at them in various men's magazines.  You know exactly what you like: shapely girls in bikini-style panties, shiny like metal, or like glistening skin; round, pendulous boobs, restrained in sheer black lace; long, lustrous legs lovingly covered in fishnet stockings, starting at mid-thigh and ending at open-toed heels; waves of long, tousled hair tumbling upon slender, bare shoulders; I could go on.  Just imagine if you could ever touch something so exquisitely feminine.  What would you do?  Where would you start?

I'll tell you what would happen if you found yourself with one of these fantasy girls from your precious pictures.  Just think: she's posing, just for you, in the same outfit as in the photo.  You forget, but she's used to better men pawing all over her.  You'd try to put your hand on her waist first.  Maybe touch her thigh.  You're overwhelmed by her inhuman femininity.  She lets you get so far, but then gently pushes your hand away with a girlish giggle.  And you try again.  You're reaching for her panties.  She slaps your hand away.  "My clothes stay on… for now," she says.

She can tell how desperate you are for a piece of her.  That's why she's not giving you anything.  Just letting you look, and maybe allowing you a little feel here and there to keep your hopes up.  You'd do anything right now if she allowed you to simply caress her waist, her knee, her shoulder, or anything at all, with your hand.  But she won't let you.

Some men might resort to violence in such a situation.  Rush over and grab her.  What can she do?  Pick her up, throw her onto the bed, and rip off all her clothes.  But you would never dream of doing such a thing to one so perfectly, divinely feminine.  You are worshipping at the altar of femininity.  You dare not defile it.  You dare not contravene her will.

She struts around the room.  You are hers.  You want to be hers.  You relish every moment that she tortures you.  You drink up her every gorgeous curve, and clamour for more.  And she's hardly let you touch her yet!  Better still, she hasn't taken anything off!  The anticipation is killing you.  You need to touch her just like you need your next furtive breath.

Now she approaches you.  She lets you caress her hips.  She kisses you.  You can smell not just her perfume, but the scent of her naked skin.  The faint odour nearly knocks you unconscious.  You mould your body against hers and keep your eyes open as your tongue meets hers.  She closes her eyes.  You fondle the waistband of her panties, but she takes her arms from around your neck and moves your hand away, grinning.  "Not yet."

She places your hands back on her hips, and turns around.  She lets you admire her waist, her hips, and her butt before she slowly leans back against you, rubbing her beautiful, round buttock against your dick.  She gyrates her hips back and forth, and sends you into a fit of ecstasy.  One hand fondles her hip, her butt, her thigh, and back up as she moves; the other her other hip, her waist, her breast and back down. 

She is amazing.  You reach for her panty waist and start pulling down, but she stops you.  She turns around and playfully shakes a finger at you.  "You're bad!" she admonishes.  But now she continues her little dance while facing you.  She moves forward against you for a brief moment, and your member touches her sanctum sanctotum against both your clothes.  But she slowly dances away.

"You need to get naked," she says.  You immediately obey.  You stand naked in front of the avatar of the Goddess, who still wears her scanty little outfit.  She looks at your throbbing erection and says, "I know what you want.  You want this."  She gestures at her body, knowing it to be worth more to you than everything on Earth.  "But I need to know," she says, "just how far you'll go to have it."

"I'll do anything," you answer, meaning it.

"Anything?"

"Yes, anything!"

You know you've just sold your soul to the devil.  But you don't care.  It's worth it.

She sashays back to you with a demonic grin.  "Well, then," she says, huskily, "Let's begin."

She grabs your cock and whispers into your ear, "I know what your deepest fantasy is, even if you don't."  She sits you down on the bed and straddles you.  You can feel the roughness of her fishnet stockings on your sides – then, the excruciating softness of her panty-clad pussy against your dick.  You grab her by the ass and hump away greedily.  She pushes you down and gyrates obligingly.  

"Do you love me?" she asks.

"Of course I do!" you reply, humping her madly as she sits on top of you.

"Do you worship me?"

"Yes!"

"You'll do anything I ask?"

"Yes!"

"Then STOP!  NOW!" she screams.  And you stop – not because she said so but because of the shrillness of her ear-piercing command.

She gets up from on top of you.  "Good.  Very good," she says.  "I'm almost convinced."

She sits you back up, and drags you to the middle of the bed.  She lies on her back, and drags you back on top of her.  She kicks off her shoes.  She grabs you by the ass and makes you come all over her belly.  And she's not even naked!

"That was a bit premature, wasn't it?  But you're ready for more, aren't you?"

And you are.  You desperately want to fuck her now. 

"Here, lick this off.  I don't want this mess all over me."

And you do.  You don't even hesitate.  You're lapping up your own semen from her belly and the front of her panties, because you just want to taste her skin.  Her belly is so infused with girlishness that you'd eat anything off of it just to put your lips to it. 

Before you know it, she's had you remove her panties, and you're licking her glorious pussy.  Her perfect, slender, fishnet-clad legs are on your shoulders.  After she comes, she doesn't let you stop.  She takes off her bra, then pulls you up to her by the hair.  She lets you fumble around a bit before she guides your stiff cock into her dripping wet cunt. 

My God!  Do you ever love it!  She's bucking like a bronco, and you're struggling to keep up.  You grab her nipples, her ass, her clit, her hair, her thigh, her waist, her shoulder, and all you can think is: girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl, girl girl girl girl GIRL!  You want to come a million times.  You never want to take her hands off of her.  You want to explore her forever.  You want to flip her around so you can admire her from every angle.  She lets you.

"I know what you're thinking," she says as you fuck her pretty brains out.  You've come at least fifteen times by now, and you're only getting hornier.  "You can't get enough of me, can you?"

"No!" you pant, "I can't!"

"You want to touch me forever, don't you?  You don't ever want to let go of my girlie bits, do you?"

"Yes!  No I don't!"

"Well I hate to break it to you, but I'm done for tonight."

"Please!  I need more!"  You continue to fuck her frantically, clutching her tighter so she can't move away.  But she's not trying; she's still meeting your every stroke with her own enthusiastic rhythm.

"I know.  I have a solution for you."

"What's that?"

"What better way to eternally explore the female body than by becoming a girl?"

"What do you mean?!?" you cry, as your heart begins to pound with dread and excitement, your pelvis desperately keeping time.

"Think about it: if you were a girl…"

You're fucking her really hard now, but her voice is mesmerizing.

"You'd get to look at girl thighs…"

You moan as you look at her thighs, still clad in those ultra-sexy stockings.

"…Girl boobs…"

You realize that she's been fondling your nipple ever since you moved her hand there five minutes ago.

"…Girl waist…"

You prop yourself up on your hands, pounding harder still, and picture the slenderness of her waist on your own body, and just below that…

"…Girl ass…"

The picture is vivid in your mind.  Oh…

"…Girl pussy…"

My…

"…Girl everything…"

GODDESS!

"…all the time!"

Your body convulses violently.  You feel like you're having a heart attack.  The pain in your crotch is excruciating.

"You'd get to touch girl non-stop for the rest of your life!"

Your skin tingles all over your body.  You expect to withdraw from her and gape in horror at your own moist, tender pussy where your mighty penis once stood.  This orgasm intensifies tenfold and reverberates throughout your entire body with this epiphany.

"And just think…"

You are shaking yourself loose from her, even as your climax continues, as you picture your now curvaceous body trembling as femininely as hers.

"You'll even get to use your pussy!"

"No!" you scream, at the top of your lungs, shrilly, like a woman, as you realize that you crave a huge, erect penis inside your cunt, even more desperately than you wanted your own penis inside hers. 

"That's right!  You get to fuck like a girl, too!"

What you thought was your climax a moment ago pales in comparison to the unbearable pleasure emanating from your crotch, and drowning your entire body.  In your mind, you are her.  You picture yourself as her from the very beginning, teasing, sashaying, dancing, and especially fucking.  You long to taste another man's semen in your mouth.  You deeply regret not having savoured your own when you ate it off of her belly. 

"You'll even get to wear garter belts, stockings, lace, bikinis…"

Ali Landry

Your transformation is complete.  You laugh huskily and girlishly as you contemplate the excitement of picking out your new wardrobe.  Your body quivers whenever you imagine yourself in some pair of white lace panties you saw Heidi Klum wearing in a Victoria's Secret catalogue; or a brightly coloured string bikini like the one Ali Landry wore in that picture you used to salivate over; or the very outfit that she seduced you with what seems now like centuries ago.  "Yes!" you whisper, "fishnets!"

Then, an hour later, you come down at last, when you suddenly realize that you are covered in semen, and that your hand is fondling your softening penis. 

You have not become a girl, as you had hoped.

"So what do you say?  Sound like a good idea?"

She's been sitting in a chair across the room, waiting for you to come back to Earth.  You can't remember if this was some weird dream, or if she really did fuck you, and convince you to betray your own gender forever and become female.  She is naked, and still terrifyingly beautiful.  "What do you mean?" you sputter, shaking the cobwebs from your wet dream.

"You know exactly what I mean.  Get dressed."

You are confused.  Your first instinct is to reach for your pants, but the idea fills you with some inexplicable dread.  You drop your pants back on the floor, perplexed.

"Is something wrong," she asks, pointedly.

"I… I have no clothes," you answer uncertainly.

"What about those pants, silly?"  She plays coy.  You glance at her, and take in that gorgeous smile of hers, and how sexy her butt is, and how you long for it once more.

"I can't wear those," you answer confidently.  "Can I borrow something of yours?"

"Like what?" she replies, taken aback.

"Well, can we start with some underwear?" you retort.  You don't feel like playing games anymore.

"I don't have any men's underwear, silly.  You can't wear mine."

You start to wonder if you're losing your mind.  You figure that she must be testing you.

"Can I please?"

"What?"

"Please, can I wear your underwear?"

"You can't wear women's underwear.  You're a man.  Put on your pants."

"I don't want to be a man.  I want to be a girl."  You blush as you say it.  "I want to be a girl, and I want to wear girlie clothes."

"Are you fucking serious?  After the night we had last night?  This isn't funny."

"I am serious.  Don't mess with my head.  You convinced me last night that the best way for me to love you is to become you.  Don't pretend it didn't happen."

"Come on, now," she says.  "You're starting to scare me."

You start to feel horribly embarrassed.  Is this some kind of sick joke?

"OK, I know you're kidding," she says.  "But sure, have it your way.  You can put on the outfit I had on last night.  Come on, put it on!"

You pick the panties up off the floor, and slowly, gracefully, slip them on.  You already feel sleek and curvy.  You can picture your pussy again.  You've never worn panties before – only in your imagination.  Now you feel the luxurious satin tightly against your hips and especially your crotch.  You like it, an awful lot.

Encouraged, you find the bra on the other side of the bed.  She follows your every movement like a hawk.  You wrap it around your waist, its back on your belly, and tie it; then you turn it the right way as you put your arms through the straps and bring it up to your pathetically small boobs.  You love the way it feels tight around your chest, and how unforgettably feminine it feels to bare your waist between matching satin undergarments.

"You're really going to do this, aren't you?"

You take your time rolling on the stockings.  You lament the fact that you have so much unsightly body hair to get rid of.  You almost want to stop and shave your legs now, but you just can't resist the feeling of enveloping your legs in girlishness.

She tosses you the dress as she sees you strapping on the shoes.  They are far too small, but you can't bear to wear anything else.  You thank her and slip into the little sausage casing she wore last night at the club.  You feel marvelously empowered.

"So, are you ready to go out?" she asks.  She put on some jeans and a t-shirt while you were busy with your precious stockings.

"Well, I'd have liked to shave my legs, but this will have to do for now.  Thank you so much for the clothes!  I feel wonderful!"

And you go out onto the street, dressed like a girl. 

No sooner do you go out the door than she drags you back in and says, "OK, you've passed the first test.  Now go shave your body, and I'll have a surprise for you when you're done.

And you go into the shower and shave off all your body hair.  You're very excited about your new look.  You imagine that maybe she'll bring back some more clothes for you.  You get out and put on her clothes again.  She arrives just in time with a man.

"Here's your second test.  If you really want to be a girl, you'll enjoy this."

And you do.  You enjoy it even more than you ever enjoyed fucking any girl.  He really makes you feel like a girl.  At first, you're coy about sucking his cock, but the way his hands fondle your sleek lingerie-clad body turns you on so much that you can't help but encourage him.  You lament not having a pussy, but settle for him fucking your ass.  It feels so feminine to have a penis inside you that you come with every third stroke.  And after he comes deep inside you, you don't hesitate to revive his erection with some more fellatio.  The whole time you imagine that he really is fucking your pussy.

After he's done with you, you help him fuck her.  You get him hard, and guide his dick into her pussy.  You live vicariously through her for a while.  She lets him do things that she never let you do to her.  He even fucks her in the ass, and you feel a tinge of jealousy – not of him, but of her. 

Finally, you relax with a cocktail of feminizing hormones, and put on the most outrageously girlish lingerie in her closet, well on your way to becoming a she-male sissy faggot chick-with-a-dick.