by Sophie Pert
But I can see my face, and my head and oh my god my hair!
Somehow my hair had grown longer than I had it before. I normally kept my hair pretty short and was a little self-conscious about how I was going a little bald but now I not only had a full head of hair it billowed down around my head. It was long and dark and straight and came down to below my shoulders. It was so very sleek and shiny, it looked like I took very good care of it which of course had to be some sort of a side effect of the drug because I didn’t have the faintest idea of how to care for long hair. I grabbed the hair in my hands, feeling the smooth sheen of it and tugging a bit at it to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating or anything.
Then my face. I was definitely a woman, or at least I had very feminine features. I still looked kind of like me, there was something about my features that was distinctly familiar but only vaguely so. It was difficult to describe, like I was looking at my face but not my face at all. Like a smoothed out version where all of the familiar details were gone and replaced with something else.
I was far more attractive than my masculine version too. I had a sort of cute look to me, tiny upturned nose and pert, plump lips. My eyes were nice big ovals, dark pools that you could just stare into for hours. When I smiled you could see the hint of dimples that just made you want to fall for this girl.
I couldn’t be distracted though, I needed to see just how much had actually changed.
With my eyes closed I pulled my shirt over my head and threw it to one side, then I slid out of my pants and kicked them away.
I was now standing fully naked in front of a mirror with my eyes closed, fists balled at my sides I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.
The pills had worked, that much was clear. Standing in front of me was a woman, not a hint of masculinity.
She was petite, shapely but not overly curvy. Her hips were small, but definitely feminine, and she had a graceful smoothness to her body. She wasn’t overly skinny, but she was definitely thin. She had a touch of muscle tone to her, but not enough to be really noticeable at all. She didn’t have any belly, her stomach was smooth and flat with the sort of curves that you would expect from a woman. She was shaved smooth, and I could just make out the hint of a mound between her legs that made it clear to me she was definitely all woman. Her breasts were small, nice little handfuls each capped with a small pink nipple.
All in all she looked like a cute woman, hot enough that I would have trouble talking to her at a bar but approachable enough that any normal man would probably be able to pick her up. And they would definitely want to. She had this sort of draw that made you want to stare a bit, made you want to watch her. That was it, she had a watchable quality to her.
I couldn’t look away.
And the more that I stared the more turned on I became, and the more turned on I became the more visibly aroused she was. Her nipples hardened and a flush stood out on her chest. Her smooth olive skin got goosepimples and I felt my breath start to get more ragged, more excited.
She squeezed her legs together, and I felt a sensation shoot between them and leave me breathless.
I bit my lip, and watched her do the same.
She was me, and I was turned on by her.
I reached out my hand and cupped a breast, squeezing it lightly and feeling it from the other side of the first time. I slid that same hand down my body, down my stomach and between my legs. I felt the wetness between my legs and, locking eyes with my own reflection, I slid a finger inside of me.
The sensation was indescribable. I had never felt anything like it before. It was so much more than I had ever experienced as a man, so much more powerful. As I moved my hand and my fingers I was struck by how much more refined it felt. Compared to this, masturbating as a man felt so crude and forced and vulgar. This, this was so much better.
As my fingers brushed my clit my other hand shot out against the wall to support me. Palm flat out I held myself up and still kept my eyes locked on the mirror. Now the hand between my legs strummed over my clit time and again as I pushed first one and then two fingers into my pussy.
I felt them part me, felt the push into me and craved them and more. So much more. I needed to feel something big inside of me.
As my hand moved, driven to pleasure me by forces outside of my control, I felt my legs trembling and struggling to maintain my balance. I felt my breasts, shaking and jiggling on my chest as my whole body rocked from the feeling of being penetrated.
My eyes watched my reflection, saw me bent over at the waist as my fingers thrust into me time and again and again. I saw my head shaking, rocking back and forth with the sensation of being filled up and all I could think was what it looked like.
How it looked for all the world like I was being fucked from behind.
That realization, the thought of being fucked hard from behind with a long thick cock, it spurred my ministrations to new heights. I pounded my fingers into me as I imagined being taken by some strong and willful man. I almost felt his hands on my hips, holding me in place as he pushed his thick cock into me, as he pounded me from behind.
I was so close.
I could see him in my mind’s eye too. He was barely holding on, his thrusts becoming erratic as he tried to hold out, tried to wait for my own orgasm before he filled me up with his hot cum. I could see his body tensing, see the tendons of his muscles as he struggled to hold on. See his clenched teeth, see his steely resolve.
In my fantasy he had one face, clear and easy to see.
In my fantasy it was Mr. Richardson behind me, and that was enough to push me over the edge.
I tensed and felt my whole body vibrate for a few seconds, a high-pitched whine leaving my mouth as I trembled on tiptoe and then relaxed all at once. I slumped to the floor, collapsing in a pile of bubbling satisfaction.
I lay there with a stupid smile on my face, happy that the pill hadn’t made me some kind of freak and satisfied that my initial exploration of this body had been so satisfying.
I crawled into bed, cuddling up under the covers and feeling perfectly relaxed.
It was only just before I slipped off to sleep that I really realized what my fantasy had been. At the time it just seemed so natural, the whole thing had come on all at once and felt like the logical conclusion. Lying there in the warmth of my bed I had a inkling that something was odd, but sleep overtook me before I could really register what that was.
---
I awoke in blaring confusion. I was aware that I had done something last night, I was aware that something had been out of character, I was aware that I had somewhere to be today, I was aware of a pounding in the distance.
Everything came flashing back.
The job. The boss. The pill. The fantasy.
Oh god the fantasy!
What the hell was that about? I had fantasized about my boss, that was crazy.
I mean I had had fantasies before, but I was a guy and a straight guy at that. My fantasies were the typical guy fantasies, they usually involved women I knew and was attracted to or celebrities or models. But in every single one of them I was the only guy present and in absolutely none of them was I being fucked by another man.
Because I was straight.
I heard it again, the pounding in the distance, and realized what that was. It was someone knocking on my door. I remembered the car, and the clothes. Oh crap.
A quick glance at the clock on my bedside showed 7:07am. First day at work and I was already late.
I didn’t have time to worry about silly fantasies, I had to push that aside and be professional. I had a job to do and I couldn’t afford to mess it up. Literally could not afford it.
I bounced out of bed, shouting, “One second!” and dashing around grabbing my jogging pants and sweatshirt and pulling them on. I dashed through my house to the front door and yanked it open.
On the other side of the door was a well dressed young woman carrying a garment bag over one shoulder and a black case in her han
d. She had a disdainful look on her face and stepped into my house wordlessly.
This woman was dressed severely, a black pantsuit with high heels. The jacket of her suit buttoned all the way up to her neck and had a high straight collar. She had short blonde hair cut and styled to perfection. Her face was pretty and attractive, but the look she had on it made it clear to me that she was not happy being here and couldn’t wait to get this over and done with.
She walked straight through my apartment, ignoring me entirely and heading into the bedroom.
I closed the door quietly and followed her.
By the time I had entered the room she had placed the garment bag down on my bed and cleared a space on the top of my dresser to place the black case.
“Shower,” she said, her voice an abrupt order as she held out shampoo and conditioner for me.
I didn’t say a word I just took the items and obeyed.
It was the quickest shower I had ever had, stepping in while the water was still cold and soaping up and cleaning myself as quickly as I could. I used the shampoo and conditioner she gave me, both smelling vaguely of flowers I couldn’t place.
When I turned off the shower I reached for a towel and had one shoved into my hand. I realized she was in the bathroom with me and jumped back a little but she just ordered me again, “Out.”
I stepped out, wet and shivering and naked in front of this stranger who watched me while I dried myself. I toweled off my body self-consciously while she looked on and then went to go start on my hair.
“No,” she said, pulling the towel from me and doing the work herself. She dried my hair lightly with the towel and then wrapped it around my body. Reaching over to the counter she grabbed a hair dryer and a brush and set to work on my hair. By the time she was done it was back to being sleek and shiny and dry once more.
“Out,” she ordered again, ushering me into my bedroom and pointing to the bed, “Sit.”
She made her way over to the case and pulled out a variety of tools I don’t think I’d ever seen before. Then she turned back to me and got to work on my face.
If you asked me to outline what she did I don’t think I would be able to describe it. It felt like being examined by an alien, poked and prodded and powdered and pasted as she hovered just in my line of sight. Until she was satisfied.
Then she stood back, appraising me, and with a nod pointed at the garment back and said, “Dress.”
I stood and turned to the bag, looking at the items inside.
I could make out a bra and panties, both black and fairly plain and conservative. There was a white dress shirt and a black tie and what appeared to be a black skirt as well. I pulled out the bra and panties and set them aside.
Taking the panties I stepped into them and slid them on, mindful the whole time that I was being judged by this strange woman in my home. Next I took my bra in my hands and wracked my brain trying to remember how my girlfriend put hers on. I knew there was a series of steps she always did, but couldn’t for the life of me remember how she started.
I heard an exasperated sigh from the strange woman in my room and then she stepped forward.
She grabbed the bra out of my hands and slipped it onto me. She slid the straps over my shoulders and pulled the cups down over my breasts. Stepping behind me she hooked the two ends together and ran a finger under all of the straps to check the fit.
Each time she touched me it was like a spark of electricity running over my skin. I had to struggle not to let any feelings show.
Then she did something I didn’t expect.
She bent me at the hips and then reached into the cup of my bra. She grasped my breast and pulled it up and towards the middle. Next she repeated with the other cup.
I felt her hand on my breast, palm brushing against my nipple and I couldn’t help but let out a little sigh. I know she heard me and felt my nipples harden as she touched me. I blushed and glanced over at her, catching the hint of a smile on her face.
She stepped over to the garment bag next, reaching in to pull out the white shirt. Rather than hand it to me she stepped up behind me and slipped it over my arms. I felt her body press against my back as she pulled it up over my shoulders, just the briefest touch but I couldn’t help but feel it was intentional.
She stepped around me, grabbing the bottom of my shirt and buttoning up each button in turn. The knuckles of her hand brushed lightly over my breasts as she reached those particular buttons, pressing against me and making me shake a little.
Next was the skirt, a tight piece of fabric that I stepped into and let her slide up my legs. When she zipped up the zipper in the back I could have sworn she pinched my ass, but it was so quick I wasn’t certain whether it was intentional or just my imagination.
She took my heels in her hand and kneeled before me, slipping each of my feet into them one at a time. When she got my second shoe on, she slid her hand up the back of my calf and now I was sure she was being more than just usually friendly.
The tie was last, and she took her time wrapping it around me and knotting it, just so. Her concentration was on the fabric, and I took the time to take in all of her features. No longer was she severe, now she was just interesting.
She took a step back, taking in my whole package, before nodding quickly and then stepping behind me. She guided me over to the mirror and let me see myself.
The outfit was conservative, but alluring. The white shirt was perfectly fitted to compliment my body. The tie drew attention to my breasts by the way it fell between them. The skirt ended above the knee, showing off my hips and smooth, toned calves. The heels were fashionable, but not so tall that I would kill myself trying to walk in them.
So too my makeup was subtle but enough to bring out the natural beauty of my feminine form. It brought the focus onto my lips, pert and plump and kissable. Onto my big eyes, oh so difficult to tear yourself away from.
The strange woman stood just behind me, a little taller and off to one side so I could see almost her entire face over my shoulder. She had me held my the arms, positioning me in front of the mirror to see myself. I locked eyes with her, and saw a wicked grin come over her face. Reaching one hand up she pulled my hair off of my shoulder, exposing my neck. She ducked her head in and lightly kissed my neck while her other hand slid down to my waist.
I sighed lightly and closed my eyes, letting her feel my body and basking in the sensation of being touched by her. She turned me and kissed me full on the lips, her lips pressed against mine and her tongue darting lightly into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble as I melted into her.
I felt her pull away and stood there, biting my lip and dreaming idly of her removing all the clothes she had so carefully put onto me.
The snapping of her case pulled me back into reality and I looked over to see her standing by the door.
“Come,” she said, leaving the room.
I followed her, out of the room and out of my apartment. Closing and locking the door behind me I followed her out and to the waiting car.
It was an town car, sitting by the curb and looking imposing. We both slipped into the back and then off we drove.
We sat in silence, not a single word between us or the driver as we made our way towards the building that contained my new job.
As we pulled up to the curb and stopped I glanced out the window, then back at her. She was staring straight forward, her face emotionless.
I opened the car and stepped out onto the curb, closing the door behind me. The car pulled away and I stared up at the building, confused, bewildered and a little intimidated.
---
It was the afternoon before I even saw Mr. Richardson. The morning was a flurry of paperwork and instructions and introductions instead.
A severe looking woman in a grey dress met me at reception, asking for me by name and then pulling me into a windowless room. She had me fill out dozens of forms, seeming exasperated the entire time. Next she ran through how the phones
worked, the floor plan for the office, all the things I would need to know in order to do my job.
Everything happened so quickly and I struggled to keep up. I was so focused on paying attention that I forgot everything else.
The woman from this morning. The silent drive in the car. Hell even the thought that I was temporarily a woman faded away as I took notes and silently worried that I was in way over my head.
I was pretty certain that I absolutely was.
Still I pressed on, taking notes and paying attention to everything. I even skipped lunch to sit at my desk alone and review everything from the morning.
Mr. Richardson came back to his desk with just a minute to go before the end of lunch, he passed by my desk and then doubled back and looked me over with a broad smile on his face, “Hello Ashley, my oh my. You look fantastic. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
I blushed and ducked my head down a bit, overwhelmed with all of the fuss, “Why thank you Mr. Richardson.”
“I hope you enjoy the outfit,” he said, “I know it may be a tad masculine with the tie and all but I figured baby steps was the right choice all things considered.”
“Oh yes,” I told him, “I like the outfit very much.”
“Good good,” he clapped his hands, “Well I’ll be in my office. Feel free to put through any calls that come in and I’ll buzz you if I need anything.”
“Yes sir,” I said with a nod.
With a final smile he stepped away.
I had only about five minutes rest before the phone rang. I answered it as sweetly as I could and then forwarded the call in to Mr. Richardson. His deep voice on the other end of the line was pleasing to my ear, comforting almost, and it made me think that maybe this job would work out after all.