When at last the elevator doors slid open once more, hours past the point at which I'd originally been expecting them to do so, the three of us walked triumphantly through them and into the hallway, heads held high, even as the crowds around us stared, gaping, at our messy, sweaty hair, and our disheveled, hastily clad articles of clothing.
We frankly didn't give a damn what people thought about the three of us. We had had the time of our lives in that elevator, and I smiled, already making plans in my head to meet the two of them again once the work day was over- although I decided, once we were there, maybe it would be best if we took the stairs...
The End
Con Job
Chapter 1
My persona, throughout my years of high school and college, was astounding in some ways. Frankly, it was more of a disguise than anything, a false facade I displayed to the world, hiding my true motives and tendencies with elaborate care. Dawning overly large sweaters for instance, concealing the fact of my being a woman from view, and making me appear every bit as androgynous as it was possible to be. Or else, wearing my hair in the most outdated, fun-free hairstyles, often frizzy and unkempt, but always in such a way that I seemed as out of touch with current trends as it was possible to be.
But whatever means I utilized of making myself so, mine was the general guise of a sexless, prudish young woman under normal circumstances. As abstinent and as absent physical desires as it was possible to be, perhaps straight-laced and religious, or otherwise simply harboring a general disdain for the act of intercourse and all that went along with it. A Bible thumper, in a world of bed thumpers. The female equivalent, more or less, of a damn eunuch.
But the key word here, I might remind you, is “facade.” This was the version of myself that I presented to the world, the safe, vanilla me that they saw on a routine basis. But this was far, far, far from the real me. The real me and the presented me were as opposite as night and day, on any number of levels.
And that isn't to say, either, that my adoption of this guise was a wholly voluntary one. I can assure you that I didn't overtly choose to be this way. My passions ran so contrary to the way I presented myself that it sometimes drove me up the flipping wall, made me absolutely crazy. I would never have elected to live that way, were the choice mine to make, and the fact that I did live such a life should give you a clue just as to how intensely the issues holding me back truly affected me.
Truth be told, I was simply a shy little vixen. Shy as hell, in fact. Half the time, I dared not look other people in the eyes as they passed by me in the halls or on campus, and for that simple fact alone I think they were largely tempted to pay me as little real thought as possible.
This, on the surface, was my desired effect, but I had conflicting emotions about it to say the least. I savored being left alone, the prying eyes of the people around kept at bay my mousy, frightened demeanor. But I wished so desperately that I could display the sort of craving for other people that I truly felt deep down. That I could send that mask of mine flying, and shock the hell out of the world with the raging sexual creature that lurked deep below my surface.
It didn't help, I supposed vainly, that I happened to be so god damn attractive. I know that sounds conceited, but really it was true. My mousy, insecure self-concealed a radiant bombshell, a girl who couldn't suffer all the attention she would have received otherwise, and thereby went about un-prettying herself to the extent possible as a means of self-preservation.
The real me was a frankly stunning creature. With dirty blonde hair, a tight, curvy little body, fine tits, and a splendid, cushiony ass. Had I had anywhere near the constitution or demeanor for such a thing, I honestly believe my looks could have landed a reasonably successful career as a model were that my ambition. I was one fine as hell young lady...
But of course, my fear of having anyone's eyes on me at all largely nixed that plan outright, I suppose...
Most of the time, I kept to myself. I didn't go out, I didn't socialize, and I felt so much inhibition around others that it became almost crippling at times. Genuinely, I was a sexual demoness, with a filthy imagination and such lurid, intense cravings that it drove me wild. But given my fear of being around other people, I found myself without any real means of indulging such passionate cravings.
I substituted the thrill of sex for that of watching anime, reading comic books, unlocking every last damn achievement in every damn video game I owned. I masturbated vigorously to hentai, as well as to whatever genre of more traditional porn that you could think to imagine. Of course, no matter what thrills I might have sought from such sources, nothing seemed at all capable of comparing to the real deal, and at the end of the day I found myself inevitably left high and dry, wishing for more than I knew could ever be a reality, and ending up so sexually frustrated that it practically made me cry.
And that was when I made the decision to go to my first con...
In so many ways, that decision was one that impacted my life to an untold degree, cracking me out of my shell to an extent that I'd never really believed before to be possible.
I had had my fair share of inhibitions about going from the get-go. It was, after all, a room full of people, the precise sort of venue that I struggled on a daily basis to avoid to the extent possible. I won't pretend the very notion of going didn't make me absolutely nervous as all hell, but at the same time I was decidedly torn on the subject. As much as I may have been inclined to hesitate, I was nonetheless pulled by the desire to get the autograph of the Japanese author responsible for penning one of my favorite manga series.
Eventually, the decision to get the signature in question won out over my fear, and I decided that, given careful planning, I could figure out a way to make it through my very first con emotionally intact.
It was a comic con, after all, and everyone around me would be dressed up in costumes of their favorite characters. It was the perfect opportunity for me to blend in in every way, to enjoy all the fun of the con without having to subject myself to the sort of social pressure I so desperately dreaded.
And Lord, what a liberating decision that first donning of a costume proved to be...
It had taken me some time to settle on a costume of some random chick from an anime series I'd recently gotten into. I wouldn't call it an especially revealing costume, but it did to emphasize my, ahem, feminine assets with far greater clarity than any other damn outfit that I possessed in my entire wardrobe.
For once, I was actually allowing myself to show off my stuff, even if I was wearing a mask in the process and continuing to make myself invisible.
But I had to admit it to myself all the same- I looked awfully damn good...
I was pleasantly surprised, too, upon my entry into the convention center, with just how very easily I seemed to blend into the crowd, for once without any need to hide myself intentionally. I didn't have to duck into a corner, or retreat from view or anything. People simply accepted my presence, and the fact of them swarming around me didn't seem to trouble me in the least.
I was, frankly, stunned, my head light with this newfound sense of liberty.
Even when I passed guys there, guys who were clearly interested in me and checking me out shamelessly, sometimes even whistling in my direction as a means of displaying their attraction- even amidst all of this, I managed to keep my cool. It was true, the modern feminist in me seemed to display a slight bit of indignation about being objectified, but given the circumstances, this normally objectionable aspect of things actually proved something of a boon to my self-esteem.
I was attractive to men, and I wasn't afraid of the fact of my being attractive...
This was, above all else, a landmark for me, a milestone.
And I couldn't effing wait to get out there and enjoy it to the absolute fullest extent.
Not only did I end up coming back home that evening with the autograph I'd come out seeking, but I'd even managed to establish myself amongst a short-term group of friends
, and participated in a couple of the con's many activities before the day was over. There had even been one moment, when I was especially giddy and swept up in the presence of one of my male companions, that I allowed myself the indulgent luxury of exchanging a kiss with the young man- at age twenty, the very first kiss of my life.
It was a wonderful kiss... Hot and sharp, wet and sweet. It left my head spinning, and set my body on fire with such feelings of arousal that I might have pounced the poor bastard, right there in the middle of the fucking convention.
It was at that point, unfortunately, that I suddenly came snapping back to my senses, filled to the brim with terror at how far I'd let my defenses fall. As wonderful as that moment had been, in every way, it somehow seemed to serve as a sudden, immediate sort of wakeup call. My old inhibitions all came flashing back to me with relentless fury, and I found myself darting from the scene, panicking after an entire afternoon of having remained calm, cool, and collected.
It was, I have to admit, a rather humiliating defeat...
But still... The fact that things had gone as well as they had up to that point largely served to encourage me. It made me believe that the plethora of self-doubts that I routinely felt could possibly be overcome, and that the aid of a mask to keep me invisible to the people around me could serve to vastly simplify my life. There was, hopefully, still a chance for me to be able to unleash my inner vixen, and enjoy the pleasures of life that had so long eluded me...
Of course, I couldn't go around on a day to day basis wearing cosplay garb... I mean, reasonably I could have in this day and age, and I'm sure that few enough people would have batted an eye at it. But I didn't want to build any sort of reputation for myself as a weirdo, and I still, of course, had my many inhibitions to contend with on a regular basis.
The comic con was the date which I truly awaited, my equivalent of the Super Bowl, and after a year of preparing myself emotionally and physically for it, I felt as though I was finally ready.
I intended to screw my way through that sea of cosplayers like there was no damn tomorrow...
Chapter 2
The date had at last arrived. I sat idly in my car for several minutes, watching as guys and girls dressed as characters from every bit of media ever walked past in my rear-view mirror. It was a very different sort of anxiety that now filled me than that which I'd felt during my first visit to the con the year previously, and it was hard to deny the constant fluttering of butterflies in my stomach.
I kept pulling on my outfit, particularly on the breasts and ass, feeling perpetually as though I was being pinched in either direction. Still, though, I didn't want to risk tearing it in the event I pulled too hard on the damn thing- after all, it did feel like the fucking thing was painted on, and I didn't imagine it would take all that much to damage the thing for good.
I was dressed up as a female superhero, wearing a skin-tight, spandex jumpsuit that revealed my every curve, my every crevice, and left little to the imagination. The crack of my ass was clearly visible as my buttocks raged against the seat of the costume, my navel was prominently displayed in the front, and when you caught me at just the right angle, I was certain one could make out a generous glimpse of camel toe between my legs.
I was a sight that I felt certain would make any boy at that con sweat buckets...
In addition to the barely-there suit, I wore a small, dainty little cape around my neck. And most significantly of all, I wore a slight black mask that concealed my face around my eyes and nose- concealing the real me from view, without detracting from the extent to which a man could still find me attractive- or hell, for that matter, a woman...
I was going into this con with a completely open mind, feeling as though the world itself lay at my feet, and I wasn't going to be too picky as to who I allowed to unravel the tight material of my outfit and ravish the treasures underneath.
I took a last, intensely deep breath, and steeled my nerve. I stepped out of the car, and working up every ounce of bravery that I possessed, I made my way in the direction of the convention center.
God, I loved cons... I loved the sea of bodies swarming around me, dressed up in attire that reflected innumerable passions for just about any sci-fi or fantasy franchise you could imagine, and some which you might never have expected. There were space men and superheroes, wizards and werewolves, medieval warriors and time travelers from the future. There were costumes that spanned from minimalist and basic to the most elaborate you could possibly imagine, everyone seeming to compete with one another in a friendly way for the attainment of the greatest authenticity. And honestly, it seemed to me that anyone there could have stood a shot at earning the title of most realistic costume- these were nerds who did not skimp when it came to their passions, and who would scarcely let the chance to indulge their most passionate fantasies slip through their fingers.
And God, how I loved it...
That was, after all, what I'd come here to do myself- to indulge my wildest fantasies, and to allow myself to get lost from reality for just one day out of the year. I couldn't wait to explore the many avenues for depravity that might well present themselves throughout the course of the day, and I was therefore quite pleased with the selection of fellow con-goers that passed me.
Not to sound too judgmental, but I wasn't interested in people who were as anti-social as I generally tended to be, who were less than attractive and who might bore me in the bedroom. This was my shot to make up for lost time, to plunge myself into the world of thrilling, passionate sexual conquest after having awaited the opportunity for so long now, and I wasn't about to sell myself short.
And fortunately, the con wasn't all the sorts of out-of-shape nerds you might stereotypically come to expect from such an event. Instead, the place was actually swarming with hot guys and girls as well, individuals who perhaps had less incentive than their brethren to want to escape their everyday reality, but who simply seemed to enjoy the thrill and the art of cosplaying. There were plenty of strapped male superheroes, their immense manhoods bulging through the crotches in their spandex and making me wet as I passed them. And there were just as many exquisite female sex kittens, dressed up in the typically scanty outfits that such genres as were featured at events like cons tended to put their female characters into. Their breasts were pushed snugly together, with generous slivers of their cleavage on display for anyone's ogling pleasure, just as long as one remembered to look but not touch. There were vast swaths of exposed midriffs, perfect thin abdomens swaying and bouncing with the popping of their footsteps, the peeking signs of asscracks smiling out at the world from beneath the skimpy cover of too-small miniskirts... It was all enough to make the head of a girl like me spin uncontrollably.
And what made the presence of all these attractive sexpots so additionally wonderful was the fact that I seemed to be attracting as much attention as any of them. Heads turned to gawk at me whenever I passed, both male an female alike, eyes melting down along my form from head to toe, inhaling as much of my largely visible anatomy as they could possibly manage. There were individuals here dressed up in giant metal robot costumes that must have taken months to construct, or otherwise wearing such elaborate garb that it was impossible not to let one's eyes fly to the sight. And yet it was me.... Shy, little old me, dressed up essentially in shrink wrap, displaying my goodies to the world that seemed to be the most alluring attraction.
I could practically hear boners being popped, pussies dripping with want for me, and it was such an amazing feeling. Such a wonderful, goddamn gratifying emotion after having hidden for so long in the dark...
I felt good about myself, and for me that was an amazing thing.
I would be lying if I didn't have a burning feeling in the back of my mind, telling me I was out of my element to some extent, but I managed better than usual to suppress this nagging feeling. This was my time, my chance to shine at last, and I wasn't about to allow my inhibitions to get in the way of my true desires once again.
I came to about the middle of the convention center, still poised and composed, utterly in control of my faculties. I began the process of giving the entire convention hall a good once over, gazing around the hall and seeing what I could see. I used the excuse in my mind of trying to figure out just what I wanted to do with my day, seeing what events were present, what booths there were to peruse in my time here. But beneath the surface, I knew damn well that I was really seeking out potential sexual conquests, making a full mental inventory of the tail to be chased, both male and female, through the halls of the convention.
And that was when I saw her... The most beautiful creature I had ever before had the pleasure of laying eyes on... She had dark, smooth, supple skin, with the body of an absolute vixen. Curves, in all the right places, her bare anatomy visible in so many spots that I had no trouble whatsoever in completing a full picture of her in my mind. She was wearing an outfit that appeared dangerously skimpy, perhaps even more so than my own, but she did so with the utmost aplomb and collectedness.
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