When my ex-wife had that spell cast on me and turned me into
a woman I didn’t know what to do. Alone
in our two bedroom apartment I tried to be ‘normal’ for a couple days. But my sweats didn’t fit right… too loose in
some areas, too tight in others. My long
hair was constantly getting in the way and it was almost impossible to keep it
in a ponytail. Worst was any time I had
to use the bathroom… it’s hard to forget what type of body you are in when you
have to sit down every time and your large breasts block the view down below.
I eventually called up my friend Calvin. It took a lot of convincing, but he finally
believed I was his buddy Alex. As he
always does, he looked at this situation with logic. As he saw it, I had two options. 1, fight it.
But fighting this would be hard as the body was so overwhelmingly feminine. I couldn’t tape the breasts away and my face
didn’t look at all like a man’s. Sure, I
could wear jeans and tee-shirts, but I’d still look and move like a woman. I’d never be accepted as I wanted to be and
therefore would constantly be struggling to find happiness. 2, I could dive into this new life. Be as feminine as possible in every way
imaginable. It would be difficult to
give up the trappings of manhood. I’d
have trouble accepting it at first but the short struggle to acclimate would
lead me to a happy woman’s life.
Calvin lived up to his word and helped me out. It started off with the simple things. Clothes weren’t just woman’s wear, it was the
girliest of girls clothes. Short skirts
and silk stockings. Lacy panties and
push up bras. Low cut blouses and three
inch heels. Grooming was a
struggle. Taking care of this much hair
just has no masculine equivalent and it would take me hours to get it looking
presentable. Makeup was even worse, and
eventually Calvin sent me to a stylist to learn how to do it properly. We agreed that him calling me Alex was going
to be a problem so he decided my new name would be Alexis. And just to emphasize my new feminine nature
he added a middle name… Alexis Michelle.
Those were all things I expected. Clothes, hair, makeup, and a name
change. But Calvin pushed deeper. He admitted that it was a bunch of anti-feminist
actions but that by accepting them I would see myself as more feminine. After I accepted my new female life we could
back it up and I could live a more normal woman’s life. First was him moving in. My place became his castle, and he was
king. He introduced me to everyone as
his girlfriend and used all manner of nicknames for me. Kitten, babe, sweet
cheeks, babykins, sugar pie. I had to
cook all of the meals and even had to take a basic cooking class. While I served him steak with a red wine
shallot sauce, I had to eat almost nothing but salads. He made me go to the same gym for my weekly
workout but weightlifting was replaced with cardio and yoga. I read nothing but women’s magazines and
watched nothing but women’s television.
Three nights a week he’d take me out. I was never under the illusion that these
dates were for him, but he had to feel pretty good being seen in all the
hottest clubs with the sexiest girl there.
Learning to dance fast in heels was hard, but slow dancing was even
harder. Feeling him wrap me up in his
strong arms did more to make me feel feminine than all the thongs and dangly
earrings in the world. Calvin was nice
and let me take it slower on the intimate side.
We wouldn’t kiss in public, but after every date we’d spend an hour or
so kissing and petting on the couch.
Eventually I started sleeping in the same bed as him. He stopped wearing pajamas so that I could
wake up next to a naked man while wearing a sexy baby doll.
We agreed that this task wouldn’t be complete until I could
have sex with a man. It was pretty
extreme and we both wondered what it would do to our relationship, but
experiencing and enjoying that most intimate of acts on the receiving end would
show that I’ve truly accepted this new life.
We started toward that goal slowly.
Each night I’d have to kiss him for several minutes before going to
sleep. Once I could do that, I had to do
it while holding his cock. That
progressed to me squeezing and jacking him off until he was hard. That graduated to me finishing the job and
having him cum all over my hand and his belly.
Eventually I stopped using a towel to clean up the mess and just used my
lips and tongue.
Now here at the beach we’re moving on to the next step. If somebody told me a year ago that I’d find
myself giving my best friend a blowjob I’d have laughed at them and then
knocked their ass out. But as I take his
hardness between my lips… as I flick my tongue along the sensitive head… it
feels right. I’m sure Calvin is enjoying
himself, but this isn’t for him. This is
for me. His hard on is for me. His moans and groans of pleasure are being
made by me. This act of giving makes me
feel sexy and loved and special. It
makes me feel like a woman.
Calvin will be the one who gets the orgasm, but this act is
for me.
source: fuskator
Wow! Unbelievably amazing. Great post, Caitlyn!
ReplyDeleteThat Calvin is quite the manipulative bastard ,, I am jealous! LOL
ReplyDeleteI'm sure that is the same method people use to learn languages too, though I'm not sure there is Rosetta Stone - Girl Edition out there to help with the situation so Calvin did his best to be .. ROCK HARD!
HA!
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