Thank God for Roger!
If it wasn’t for him that stupid curse would have been the end of me
weeks ago. That fucking curse that makes
my body more feminine every time I feel more feminine. Before I asked for his help I had already
showered and earned a budding pair of breasts.
I tried TV but ended up watching one of those makeover shows, ending
with a smooth hairless body. I even
tried reading but could only find a harlequin romance novel. That kissed my penis goodbye and introduced
me to my own tight wet pussy. Roger
believe it when I told him what was going on and vowed to make me feel as manly
as possible.
He went out and got me some clothes that fit my new body. He didn’t know that I always found simple
white lingerie to be so sexy, so I tried it all on for him. With each bra, pair of panties, and set of
stockings I could feel my body changing.
Filling them out more properly. I
should have told him no, but he deserved a show for his effort.
The next night he took me out to the nearest dance
club. I couldn’t fault his logic... if I
surrounded myself with sexy women I wouldn’t have time to think about being one
myself. But then I got stuck out on the
dance floor… man after man came up to me and kept me dancing and writhing on
the dance floor feeling more and more sexy.
It’s really my fault that I left his side.
The next morning he directed me to his old barber, saying
that if I got this thick luxurious hair cut off that I would feel more like my
old self. How could he know it had
re-opened last week as a woman’s salon?
I swear my hair grew by six inches as the just as the stylist washed
it. It’s not his fault that I didn’t
just leave.
This morning I thought his idea of going to the gym was brilliant. Nothing like a good sweaty workout to feel
like a real man. It’s my fault that I
accepted the free trainer for the day. I
mean, how was I supposed to know that Olaf barely spoke English and would put
me through a woman’s workout regimen. He
had me doing stretching exercises and bending me into positions no man could
ever do for hours on end.
For a while, I had a sinking feeling that Roger might be
setting me up to fail. His intentions
all made sense, but each thing he suggested made me feel more feminine. Made my body more feminine. But when he suggested this, I realized he’s
always had my best interests at heart. I
mean the more feminine I feel the hornier I get and that arousal, if not tamped
down, will lead me to acting more feminine.
So I lie here as he fingers me. Maybe
if he’d just stop talking.
I can appreciate that he’s telling me what he’s not going to
do but with his fingers working their magic, with me laying here in his barely
covered lap, with us both relaxing in his bed, I can’t help but imagine every
act he says he’s not going to do. He
tells me that I’m safe, that he’s not going to lean down and kiss my plump
lips. I can’t help but imagine his lips
pressing against mine. That he’s not
going to turn me over and have me suck him off.
Is that his erection pressing into my shoulder? Am I giving him that? He tells me that he’s not going to lift me up
and plant me down on his hardening cock and fuck me cowgirl style. Mmm… my breasts would be bouncing right in
front of his face that way! He promises
me that he’d never put me up on all fours and take me from behind, pulling my
long sexy hair. Ohhh that sounds so
hot!!
I have to thank him properly for helping me. He deserves this and so much more. I’m
sure this won’t change me much more… and it’s not like he set me up to do
this. I mean that would have been cruel
and Roger is so kind and loving and sweet and hard and Mmmphh!
source: fuskator
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