He's A Good Girl 10

I gasped as I turned the corner and found myself face to face with Creepy Dick. Flashes of him making me show him my breasts flickered through my memory, the pain I felt when he grabbed one of my tits and twisted.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, that pervy little smile on his face as he gave me the once over.

August had told me I needed to learn to deal with guys like him, and I had talked to the other girls about it. They’d all told me to set boundaries. “Back off,” I said, trying to put some force into my squeaky blonde voice. “I’m not interested.”

Dick smiled, showing me his blunted brown teeth, letting me know he didn’t take me seriously. He stepped closer and said, “You know you love it.”

Love It? What was he even talking about? His gross come-ons? Even though I knew he would take it as a sign of weakness, I took a step back, but I raised my hands to put a barrier between us. The girls had told me tp threaten to threaten to scream if I had to. It was such a feminine play, I didn’t want to do it, but here I was now with tiny little arms and a soft, curvy body squeezed into the corset I wore under my dress. I had to confront the reality that my days of playing the man were over—at least for now. “I’ll scream,” I said.

Dick stopped smiling, but he inched just a little closer and said, “I can help you escape.”

I snorted. “Sure,” I said, slitting my eyes, but he had my attention. My mind was begging me to see the truth- he’s a liar. Don’t trust him. I didn’t listen. Hope makes fools of us all.

He grabbed one of my hands and brought it to his lips, kissing it. His bristly mustache felt rough against my skin, like a caterpillar. “I promise you; I can get you out of here.”

“Why would you do that?” I said. He kept a hold of my hand, and I let him, even though my skin crawled. I wanted badly to yank it away, but the word escape had worked. He had me listening.

“You’re perfect right now,” he said, resting his other hand on my soft, round hip. “You’re in-between. In a few more days or a week, you’ll buy the purse. Then, it’ll be too late. You’ll just be another girl.”

Just another girl? The girl I was becoming was totally offended. I wasn’t going to be just another girl. I was going to be hot. I fought through my confused feelings and resisted the urge to tell him how pretty I was going to be. My instincts-- was it feminine intuition? -- were screaming, telling me to run, but I lingered there because part of me, what was left of the man I’d been, desperately wanted to escape both from him and my feminine fate. “How?”

“Now you’re listening. Good girl.” As usual, the collar surged at the words “Good Girl,” my whole body tingling. I could see the triumph in his eyes. He was reeling me in. He held up the ID badge that dangled from his belt. “Top Level Security Clearence,” he said. “I can go anywhere in the facility. I can disable the cameras, unlock a door, have a car waiting just outside the wall to pick you up and take you to a safe house.”

“A safe house? Like in some stupid movie?” I brushed my bangs from my eyes with my long, pink fingernails. “You’re lying. This is all bullshit. You’d get caught. Fired.”

Dick shook his head. “Let me worry about that, doll. It’s risky, sure. I might get caught, but remember this: I’m a sex addict,” he said, “with an obsession for forced feminizations. As you can imagine, I don’t get many opportunities to satisfy my needs. So, yeah, I’d risk it all because just like any junkie, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my drug of choice.” He let go of my hand and reached toward my breast.

I summoned up all my will power and slapped it away. “Don’t.”

“Feisty,” he said, once more smirking, letting me know he found me comical. “You’re learning. Good. I like a girl with spunk.” He tried to brush my hair back, and I slapped his hand away again. “God damn, you are so fucking sexy. I want you so bad.”

“Fuck you,” I said, but my body’s reaction to his words unnerved me. Hearing him call me sexy made my nipples start to get hard even before my collar buzzed me with pleasure. “So, what would you want in return?” I asked, thinking I probably was not going to like the answer.

“A blow job.”

“God. You make me sick,” I said, revolted at even the suggestion I would put his disgusting thing into my mouth. I moved away, and this time when he stepped to block my path, I slapped him across the face. “Get the hell out of my way.” I was trying to act tough, but my heart was racing. I was terrified he might get mad enough to attack me.

Much to my surprise, he stepped aside, though there was a look in his eyes, like the slap had really turned him on. “If you change your mind, let me know. Remember, you only have a few more days before it’s too late.”

I put my nose in the air and stepped past him, feeling a little triumphant having stood up to him. Then, he grabbed my plump ass and pinched me so hard. I screamed and jumped. He laughed. Mortified, I scurried off, head down. “You look good coming and going,” he shouted. “Be a good girl now, sweetheart.”

Good girl. Once more my collar buzzed, pleasure mingling with pain and humiliation.

“Men!” I hissed, feeling the ache from his pinch as I hurried down the hall. “They just think they can do whatever they—” I stopped myself. Men? I was a man. I am a man. I am still a man, I reminded myself, though the feeling of my dress swirling around my legs, the pressure from my bra made the idea hard to cling to. It isn’t men, anyway, I reminded myself. It’s just Creepy Dick. There were good men out there. I’d been a good man.

Of course, look where that had gotten me.

******

When I arrived at lunch, Ebony was pouring champagne. “Good, you’re just in time!” She called out.

“For what?”

“A toast.” She handed me a flute full of bubbling champagne, and then we all raised our glasses. Miko was giggling and blushing like crazy. Paige looked both happy and embarrassed. “To Paige,” Ebony said, “and her first visit from Aunt Flo.”

The others clinked glasses. At first, I held back, pretty much grossed out by what I’d just heard, but I clinked as well, not wanting to be rude. Paige took a sip of her champagne, then started laughing, blushing. She looked a little embarrassed, but mostly happy. Aunt Flo? It was obvious what they were talking about, but my male brain was in full on panic mode. I hadn’t given much thought to the idea I would be having periods.

“Speech! Speech!” Miko sang out.

Paige rolled her eyes. “Some girls call it The Curse,” she said. “I am now one of those girls.”

Ebony laughed, a knowing laugh, while Miko grinned and whispered, “I can’t wait to get mine.”

I felt queasy. A little sick. It seemed like I was supposed to be feeling happy for Paige that she’d gotten her—thing, but it just grossed me out. On my list of reasons I was glad to be a man, not having periods was pretty much at the top of that list. I didn’t even like to know about them. It would piss me off when Kathy left little plastic strips from her pads on the counter in the bathroom, and God Forbid I ever saw a bloody pad in the trash can. I even avoided the feminine protection aisle at the grocery store as even being around that stuff made me tense. Once, Kathy had asked me to go to the store and buy some tampons for her. It just about ended our relationship. I thought she’d done it just to test me, like to prove I loved her I had to go and buy her some Her Days tampons. I did it, but I made sure she knew I didn’t like it.

Was I a little unhinged about periods? Yes. I was. And now I was going to be on the rag one day. Kathy would love that.

Lost in my shock and horror, I didn’t even realize the other three were all staring at me.

“I know that look,” Paige said.

“Ragphobia,” Miko said. “I had it, too. The fear of menstruation.”

“Men,” Ebony said. “Everyone of them is ready to faint at the sight of a little blood.” The other three laughed.

“What? No. I’m—you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” I chugged down the rest of my champagne and sat down, knees together, of course. “Like I even care.” I waved my hand as if dismissing the thought. On the table was a bowl of strawberry covered strawberries and a bowl of almonds, cashews and walnuts. I plucked one of the strawberries from the tray and began to nibble on it. Paige did the same. “Paige, I am happy for you,” I said, forcing a smile.

“So, what was it like?” Miko said. “Your first period?” I cringed, and they were all looking at me, amused looks on their faces. I could tell they were teasing me.

“I felt so bloated last night,” Paige said in a dramatic voice, waving her hands. “And my breasts hurt. I’d been having terrible, agonizing cramps all day. It was a living hell. Then, when I woke up in the morning, it was like I’d geysered. My whole room smelled like copper, and there was blood all over my legs, my nightie, sticky, wet and—”

“Okay!” I said. “That’s enough of that. This is dinner. Can we not talk about—that?”

The others laughed. Ebony leaned forward. “Believe it or not, hun, the day will come where you will want to ride the cotton pony.”

“I really don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know why anyone would ever want to experience—that.”

“Omigod. You can’t even say menstruation, can you?”

“I can say it,” I said, crossing my arms under my breasts. “I just don’t want to.”

It turned out, the whole dinner was in honor of Paige’s “coming of age.” The strawberries and nuts were foods to help with cramps, as was the turmeric salmon salad with ginger served as the main course. We finished with cake, which I think was just cake. At the end, Dr. August showed up and we took a group photo, then August hugged Paige, congratulated her on becoming a “a complete woman” and then made her exit.

“Just so you guys know,” I said. “If it happens to me, I don’t want to celebrate. Just, let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

“We’ll see,” Ebony said. “You may not feel the same soon.”

I’d been glancing at Ebony all night, feeling jealous of her figure, her complexion. I wanted breasts like hers, full, heavy, impressive breasts. I knew it was August, and I even remembered a few days ago when I’d been horrified at the thought of having such big boobs. Now, I wasn’t sure I could be happy without them.

----------

The thought of having my first period terrified me. I’d grown a little complacent about what was happening to my body, I realized, had even gotten kind of used to wearing a dress, a bra. Back in my room after dinner, I put a hand gingerly on my belly. I’d paid a little bit of attention back in sex-ed class, and I knew that if I could have periods at some point, that meant I was growing a womb, ovaries. I felt like my body was committing the ultimate act of betrayal.

I imagined I could feel a womb forming inside me now, like some kind of alien, spreading, sending out fallopian tubes like some weird flower, ovaries. A womb, my womb. The phrase didn’t sound right or even possible. My womb. My period. I pictured myself pushing one of those gross tampons into my vagina, the strings dangling out. I shivered. I mean, I actually shivered. Periods and wombs. Ovaries and birth canals. I would be able to get pregnant after this, just like any woman.

I imagined what I would look like with a big, swollen belly, imagined Kathy laughing at me, imagined myself crying out in pain, legs spread as a bloody baby crawled out from between my legs, crying, screaming. I covered my face with a pillow and screamed.

I had to get out of here. I couldn’t let that happen to me. Creepy Dick. He’d made his offer. Freedom was a BJ away. I got one of my dildos from the dresser. It looked like an actual cock, complete with veins and had a suction cup behind the ball sack so I could stick it to a wall. My collar buzzed, and I stroked the length of the dildo lovingly, enjoying the feeling of the ridges against my fingertips.

They’d already conditioned me to get turned on at the sight of a dildo, and I’d spent hours playing with my dildos and vibrators. Now, I found my mouth watering as I thought about sucking on this one. The male in me recoiled. Maybe it makes me a little bit of an asshole, but I’d always thought of women sucking cock as an act of submission, of their inferiority, of their weird psychology. It turned me on to have a gorgeous girl, one who’d seemed so smart and with it in the outside world, get on her knees in front of me and take my cock in her hot, wet mouth. To me, it made her less. It made me feel like a king. I really couldn’t understand what women got out of it or why they would ever do it.

All of that was banging around in my brain as I looked at that dildo, as I imagined sucking on it, pretending it was the real thing. I opened my mouth, licked my lips, lifted the tip of my dildo to my mouth—

--And felt like throwing up. No. No way. I wasn’t into that. I climbed onto my bed, turned on the TV, watching highlights from fashion week. Jenni, the former bad boy billionaire turned supermodel, strutted down the catwalk in a white corset and six inch heels, a bright, pretty smile on her face. My mouth dropped open, and I seethed with envy. I needed that corset, and I could only hope to have breasts as big as hers someday.

Shit. There I go again, wanting big tits. Fucking August was such an asshole. Still, looking at Jenni strut her stuff, knowing that hot piece of ass used to be a guy confused my muddled brain, and I found myself longing once more to suck cock, even as the thought also made me sick.

I had to figure something out, because my conflicting feelings were driving me insane.

Grabbing my smart pad, I curled up in one of the chairs in my sitting area and searched for “Why do women give blow jobs?” A surprising number of hits. 213 million, as a matter of fact. It seems I’m not the only one who’s a little curious. I clicked on one of the links: a women’s magazine. I didn’t much care what guys had to say on the subject. I was trying to understand my own evolving female psychology.

Hmmmn. 82% of women reported that they found giving head somewhat or very pleasurable. That didn’t seem so bad, but then only 56% or women reported actually giving head. That didn’t seem so good.

I did another search: Do women enjoy giving head?

I found an article where some women explained why they loved sucking cock. As I read, my nipples grew hard, my body flush. “I like the power,” one said. “Having my partner at my mercy, being able to control his pleasure with a flick of my tongue.” Oh, my.

Only half aware of what I was doing, I put a finger to my lips, started to run my fingernail along my lower lip, slipped it into my mouth and sucked on it as I read, letting my tongue run along the hard, sharp edge of my nail. “I feel in control…” another said. “I love making a guy turn hard for me…”

There were others about pleasing their partners, showing them how much they loved them. My nipples were aching painfully, but it was that good pain.

I put my smart pad down and looked at my dildo with new eyes. How wrong I’d been. I’d thought I was the king back in my male days, but I was really the servant. Fellatio was all about power, and the girl giving head was in control. Stripping myself naked, I went to the bathroom and placed my dildo on the wall. I got on my knees and grabbed the base with one hand, giggling, laughing, shaking my shoulders to send a tremor through my breasts, my hard nipples bouncing, swaying.

I closed my eyes and slipped my mouth over the dildo. My collar hummed, my brain lit up with pleasure that grew and grew as I drew the phallus deeper and deeper into my mouth and then began to bob, back and forth, back and forth.

I got turned on by the sound of my own soft voice humming, moaning, and kept sucking until my jaw started to ache, when I finally pulled off, my saliva dripping from the end of the dick, and I cupped my breasts and squeezed them, moaning softly, staring at that cock and falling in love with it all over again.

It's too bad they don’t make one that actually ejaculates, I thought, feeling totally lit up but unsatisfied, unfinished. Then, I realized what I’d said, the man I’d been feeling ashamed for a second, but then I just giggled and whispered, “maybe they do make dildos that squirt? They make babies that poop, right?” The thought amused me.

I couldn’t believe I’d actually thought fellatio would be gross. It was, like, the best thing ever. Then, I thought of Creepy Dick, imagining his tiny little worm of penis. I shivered. Sucking cock was one thing, but Creepy Dick? It would take everything I had not to bite his off.

Was I really considering it? I was. The fear of Aunt Flo was enough to drive me to desperation. Would my freedom and a life without Aunt Flo be worth a blow job? It might.

Right now, though? I was one horny boy and unsatisfied boy I needed to finish. Leaving my buddy dangling from the wall, I got one of my vibrators. Feeling like I needed a little extra stimulation, I turned on the TV and started one of my Victorian Romances. Girl Porn. I’d found myself growing less and less interested in straight sex as porn. Now, I totally got off watching some dark, handsome man dancing with a beautiful girl in a gorgeous gown at a masquerade ball. He, holding her in his arms, taking the lead. She, gazing up at him in wonder, her soft little shoulders bare, cleavage heaving. The two of them staring into each other’s eyes, falling in love, he never suspecting she was a mere peasant girl from the local village…

“Omigod! Omigod! Ohhhhhhhhhh! Yes! Yes! Yes!”