Just West Of Happy, Part 8 free porn video

Warning: This story contains MATURE THEMES including nudity, sex, sexualization, and vulgar language. Do not read if you are under 18 or if it is otherwise restricted for you to do so. If you wish to share this story, contact me at [email protected]. I will likely agree, I just want to know in advance. I managed to work plot and sexuality into one story. Who'dathunk? The darkness lingers for a bit in the beginning but it returns to its previous tone later, but hopefully with a feeling of those dramatic undercurrents bubbling below the surface. Or maybe I just think too highly of my writing abilities '|_|. As always, please find me on Deviant Art under the name whimsicaltales to follow my work. I usually submit there before here (and keep updated, drafted versions of every story I write). Plot Synopsis: In the aftermath of the events at Dance Berry, Ione gets answers to one of her problems but is faced with more. What happens to a witch that casts magic on another person without a pact? What will happen to George now? And why is Melinda acting the way she is? What does all of this mean for Ian/Ione? Lingering doubts pave the way for awkward exploration and things only get more strange and confusing for the two awkward youths. Just West of Happy, Part 8 By: Whimsy After the busy, frantic noise of the club, the silence of Melinda's car was both jarring and a little bit disturbing. I was afraid that real, lasting damage had been done to her when she'd used magic on George. She was going to make him into a woman, I could tell...and in all the ways that counted, she'd succeeded. Despite everything that he'd done, despite the fact that he'd punched me as a man and attempted to...to do something I didn't want to think about and desperately tried to push from my mind as a woman, I wondered what he was doing just then. I wondered how he was coping, if he was coping. It was hugely jarring for me when I'd first become a woman. If I hadn't had Melinda to get me through it, I don't know what I would have done. And now he...she...was alone, disoriented, possibly scared. I tried to shake it out of my mind. I tried to remind myself that George was everything I'd hated in people, and that he deserved it for all the trouble he'd given me, not just that day but over the past year or so. I told myself all this, but it was hard to convince myself that he deserved it. It was all part of the game for Melinda and me. The fact that I was now a woman meant I had Melinda (maybe...I still hadn't decided exactly what it meant that she'd made me into a woman). He had no one to help him through it, no silver lining. But for now, I only cared about one person. I looked over at Melinda. She was still looking vaguely catatonic, but there was more life in her than there was when we left Dance Berry. She seemed to be breathing a bit easier, seemed to be moving slightly. Perhaps because of this, I dared to finally speak. "What happened?" I asked, somehow managing to keep my own weariness and discomfort from my voice, both because of what had just about happened to me and because of my worry for her. I tried to make my voice sound concerned, but I only managed to sound slightly afraid. She didn't respond immediately, but I got the feeling for the first time that she'd heard me. She stirred slightly. "I thought you couldn't cast magic on other people without an agreement," I asked, keeping my eyes on the road now. I had been somewhat afraid of my ability to drive in this body, but the situation was desperate enough that it was a necessity. She still didn't respond. "Melinda," I pleaded. "Talk to m--" "Shouldn't," she said in such a soft voice that I wasn't sure she'd even spoken. I was about to ask her to repeat what she'd said, my heart leaping that she'd even spoken at all, but she continued unbidden. "We shouldn't cast magic on other people." "But...you did," I said leadingly, unable to even look at her. She didn't respond and I got the feeling our conversation was over again. When I looked back at her, her eyes were closed. A cold wave of panic washed over me, but I could see her still breathing, more comfortably than before. She was asleep. I parked the car outside my dorm on the street. One of the best parts about Hillsborough was that the streets weren't overly crowded and finding a parking spot was not usually difficult. It was still somewhat early for a Saturday night, at least as far as the hardcore party crowd went. If they weren't at some frat house, they were likely already (or perhaps still, depending on your viewpoint) at Dance Berry. I frowned as I put the car into park, again wondering about George. Would the normalization work on him? Or was that just part of Melinda's and my little "game"? Maybe he wouldn't be recognizable as George anymore. What would he do then? What could he do then? I decided, once again, to push George from my mind. It's not like he didn't deserve to be punished. I was more worried about the effect his punishment would have on Melinda. I looked to her then and noticed that the buzzing air of malevolence seemed to have left her, though her skin was as gray and pallid as before. I wondered if it would ever fade away. "Melinda," I said tentatively, reaching over to gently shake her. I idly wondered if I would have to carry her to my room, if I could carry her to my room. Fortunately, however, she stirred and her eyes opened slowly. "Melinda," I said again, "we're here. Come on. You can go to sleep when we get to my room." She shuddered a bit under my hand and I recoiled it, afraid I was hurting her somehow. I was mortified to see that she had begun to cry again. "Melinda," I said softly, trying to sound understanding and comforting but again afraid I couldn't keep the fear from my voice. Her crying was quickly becoming full body sobs and I wasn't sure what I could possibly do for her. I contented myself to lean across the seats and pull her into an awkward hug, which seemed to be the right thing to do just then, for she wrapped herself in my arms and continued to sob. We sat there in relative silence for long, tense moments. I tried not to think about the awkward feelings my body was giving me with Melinda pressed up against my chest like this and, once again, my mind couldn't help but mull over the fact that my body hadn't changed back when I removed the ring. "Th-They died," she sobbed into my chest, finally breaking the silence. "My parents. They died, Ione." This nonsequitur hit me like a truck and I wasn't immediately sure why she was telling me this just then. Then I realized what she was telling me and my concern for the girl bubbled to the surface again, despite the suddenness of the statement. It didn't even occur to me how almost comically out of place and sudden the statement was, I only thought of the statement itself. Melinda's parents had died. It didn't take much for me to realized that all the craziness, the sexuality, the shenanigans for lack of a better word, might have just been a sort of emotional barrier from the deaths of people close to her. For a sinking moment, I wondered exactly what that made me. I told myself that I was being selfish, but there was a part of me that wanted to be selfish, wanted to ask her what I meant to her, especially after the changes I'd undergone today. But I didn't. Call it my desire to avoid conflict, call it my timid nature, call it my adoration for the girl sobbing in my arms, but I didn't ask her. "Come on," I said, pushing her away slightly so I could look down at her puffy face. It was still jarring to see the deep gray hue to her features--jarring and worrying--but I decided just then that, as long as she was healthy, that could wait. "Let's go up to my room. You can sit down and talk about it." "I--I don't want to talk about it," she said, almost sharply. "I just--God, Ione, I don't know why I told you. I don't know why I'm here, I don't--I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, her confusion calming her tears, if only slightly. "Can we just--" she suddenly pressed herself to me, her lips meeting mine, pushing me almost bruisingly back against the door of the car. I wasn't sure how to take it. Part of me didn't mind, of course--the part of me that had been smoldering beneath the surface all night as a result of her command. But another part of me wanted to push her back. I'm not quite sure why, whether because I didn't want to fight it, because I desperately wanted her affection no matter what it meant, or maybe because I just didn't want to deal with the ramifications of her emotional turmoil, but the former part of me won the struggle. I couldn't fight against her, not because she was stronger than me, but because the kiss had stolen all of my desire to fight. It was a needy kiss, an insistent kiss, a kiss that demanded of me...not Melinda's usual kiss at all, but I hardly cared. This was the culmination of all the strange feelings I'd felt all night. Melinda crawled over the divider between the seats and straddled me, only breaking the kiss as her movements necessitated, as if she was afraid to let me speak. She reached down between the seat and door and pulled the lever to recline the seat, which sent us both toppling back. She let out a girlish "eep!", only slightly distorted from her recent sobs. "Melinda," I gasped, giving some token resistance now that the kiss had been broken momentarily. That hesitant part of me surfaced for a moment as I looked at her there, straddling me. She looked so young and innocent and though she was in control of the situation, in control of me, she looked so lost and plainly out of control that I almost felt sorry for her. Her gray skin and puffy eyes showed me clearly just how out of control she was. "Shut up," she said, her tone playful but with an edge about it. She pressed herself to me again, her lips mashing up against mine as much to keep me from talking more as to continue the kisses. Her skin felt strange--clammy and a bit cool, but it was still smooth and I still tingled every time I touched her. My hands traveled up her bare back underneath the loose top she'd worn all night almost of their own accord. I was losing this battle and, just then, I didn't mind. Once again, she sat up, but only long enough to pull her top off and toss it aside. She didn't stay surfaced long, and dove down once again to pepper my neck with needy kisses, kissing, licking, even biting my skin. I rolled my head back to give her better access, my desire to fight lessening and lessening as she seemed, even without the ring, to take control of the situation almost naturally. "You took off the ring," she breathed feebly into my neck, "did I give you permission to take off the ring?" I winced a bit, but her playful smile had returned. I felt my cheeks burn and I tried not to look at her, "I had to drive home," I said feebly. "I couldn't do it like that!" "It's fine," she breathed, "I'm a little surprised you're still a woman." I waited for a moment, but there was no assurances, no confirmation that she could turn me back nor worry that she couldn't. She just continued laying into me with kisses up and down my neck, then down my collarbone and, finally, to my breasts. She exposed the right breast by pulling the neckline of my dress aside, just as George had done an hour or so ago. The sensation of cold air washing over my exposed nipple caused me to remember the incident and I let out an involuntary shudder, then another when she latched her entire mouth around the fleshy mound, swirling her tongue around the nipple. I let out a surprised, long moan. That was more intense than I'd ever imagined and I forced myself to crane my neck and watch this girl, my girlfriend, her head bobbing slightly on my breast--my breast. It was like the idea struck me then and there, the idea that I had breasts, even though I'd had them for hours. An intense wave of dizziness washed over me then as I felt my crotch convulse. It was as if the surreality of the situation struck me just then for the first time. For some reason, my body seemed to find the sight of my girlfriend sucking on my breast highly arousing, however, and I felt every bit as horny as I had in the club. I bucked my hips a bit involuntarily, the sensations conquering my consciousness in a way I never thought possible. For that fleeting moment, I truly was Ione, and I was awash in a female's arousal like I'd never been before. I felt Melinda's cool, clammy hands probing down around my thighs and instinctively closed them, squirming a bit embarrassedly, but she gave me a reproving look, "Open your thighs," she said, nay, demanded. I obeyed, even without the ring, tentatively doing as she asked as she probed down awkwardly once again without giving up her position on my chest. She latched her mouth on my breast again for a moment before freeing the second from its cloth prison and transferring her mouth to that one, apparently not wishing my left side to feel left out. If I thought seeing her suck on my breast was intense, seeing them both exposed, glistening in the cool moonlit air with nervous sweat and saliva was enough to push me over the edge. I clenched my eyes shut, feeling a surge of arousal that threatened to push against my control barrier, but I managed to keep it in check. Melinda just beamed at me, apparently proud that she could do all of this. "It's so much easier like this," she said, her hands finally managing to find my panties and, in lieu of actually removing them, she simply ran her fingers up and down where she knew my slit to be hiding, reveling, it seemed, in my moans and squirming. "It's kind of intimidating being with a man, and I know all the good spots on a girl," she cooed, leaning down to nibble on my ear lobe. "I might keep you like this for awhile." My whole body stiffened when she said that and I realized for that one, fleeting moment that I couldn't hold back the orgasm any longer. For some reason, that proclamation, that she was thinking of keeping me as a woman, struck the walls of my self control like a wrecking ball and shattered them. I thrashed violently, crying out loud in ultimate ecstasy. Distantly, I heard my female screams and, in my hazy recollection, they sounded foreign and detached, like some other girl was screaming. When I recognized that voice, the female voice in the throes of ecstasy, as my own however, it served to fuel my orgasm even further. Two, three, five, ten, a million orgasms pounded through me. I came for years and years and Melinda watched, satisfied the whole time until I finally crashed down to the seat as though some mind-blowing drug had worn off. I was left not with a crashing disappointment, however, but rather a warm, comfortable glow that I reveled in appreciatively, gasping for breath and staring, not at Melinda, but through her. Melinda smiled at me, then looked up at the window. I realized with a thrill of horror, that someone was watching me, a young man holding a beer bottle. He threw up his hands in a cheer, grinning down at me. Melinda, in only her bra and panties (when had she removed her pants, I wondered idly) grinned at him and tossed her hair back with a wink while I tried to hide myself. Fortunately, the boy had at least the graciousness to leave without more than a peek and I was once again left with Melinda and my shame. "Wow," Melinda said, laying down on me and seeming to take in my scent for a time. "I barely even touched you. That was amazing." I groaned and clenched my eyes again, still shaking with both the release of the orgasm and the horror of knowing someone had watched. Idly, Melinda played with my nipples, which caused ripples of arousal so intense that they were uncomfortable in my current, sensitive state. I tried to bat her hands away with a whining whimper, but she simply smiled at me and continued. "I love you, Ione," she said, resting her cheek between my breasts and seeming to stare at the one in front of her--or perhaps she was staring out the window. She certainly had a distant expression on her face. I felt a wave of affection wash through me that almost countered the fact that she'd forced herself on me to get me to stop asking her about her parents. I remembered vaguely that she had been upset, that she was repressing those emotions of grief and loss, but I could barely get myself to care just then. Maybe that was unfair to myself. It was more that I was complacent enough just then to allow her the time she needed to talk about it. Besides, it wasn't my place to force it, was it? I swatted her hand off my breast again and she giggled, "Come on," she said, sitting up on me. "You can return the favor in the room." she stopped and looked around. After a moment, she spied what she was looking for, a glint of silver in the cup holder and held it up to me. "It's after midnight," she said with a playful smile. "You had the choice to take it off before, but if you take it from me now, it's going to stay on until I let you take it off." I watched her with a distant, dazed expression on my face, not quite understanding in my haze of sexual satisfaction what she was referring to. "You have to accept it from me," she said significantly, holding up the ring. "Since you took it off, we need to remake our pact." "I'll be stuck as a woman if I don't," I muttered, rolling my eyes. She giggled, "Yeah, but you're an adorable woman," she said, leaning in to kiss my neck again, "but I'd miss the sexy man you were if I never got the chance to turn you back." "You'll turn me back?" I asked with a shudder in my voice at the kiss. She just grinned mischievously at me without answering. I sighed and held out my hand, "I accept," I said with a weary smile. I knew I would have my regrets, but overall...well, life hadn't been boring over the last couple days, that much was for sure. Melinda slipped the ring on my finger in an act disturbingly like a couple that had just agreed to get married and, once again, I felt the wave of significance washing over me. She was back in control. "Alright," she said, reaching down and pulling the lever again, which sent us both rocketing to an upright position and nearly tossed her into the dashboard. "Let's go." I watched her adjust her mane of brown hair for a moment and frowned. I just couldn't push my troubles from my mind, "Melinda," I asked softly. "Can I ask you something?" She didn't respond for long moments, seeming to weigh the question in her mind as if it was a matter of life and death. She finally sighed, "You have to ask right," she muttered. "I may be disposed to answer a question, but you have to ask right." "How exactly do I ask right?" I asked warily, looking at her with some trepidation. She sat up a bit straighter, puffing her chest out, "You have to refer to me as mistress," she said with an air of haughtiness. "You have to give me the respect I am due!" Despite myself, I couldn't help but allow a twitch of a smile grace my lips as I watched her there, puffing up importantly. She was irreverent and goofy, but undeniably adorable, "May I ask you a question, mistress?" I asked, humoring her. "I guess," she responded, but her tone was no longer light and airy. It was more guarded, as though she was resigned to allow me to ask the question but was not entirely pleased about it. I weighed in my mind just how I would ask--indeed, what I would ask. Questioning her about her parents seemed the most prudent thing to do, but I worried about being able to push my luck with that topic. Besides, if this was all some kind of coping mechanism, I would have to let her come around in her own due time. I could press her later, before she left to go back to school in any case, and something else more selfish pressed on my mind in the meantime. "Why did you turn me into a girl?" I asked. She seemed to weigh even this, as if it was some kind of trap I had laid for her, a fact that was not lost on me. Finally, she seemed to deem my question worthy of answering, "Why not?" I groaned, "That isn't an answer!" I complained. "Melinda, are you gay?" She sighed, throwing up her hands as best she could with the low roof of the car above her, "Gay, straight, bi-sexual," she parroted, "I hate these labels, Ione. Why does it have to be labels with everyone? Why can't we just enjoy each other's bodies without worrying about the kind of body we're enjoying?" "If that's the case, why did you make me a woman at all?" I pressed. "I think I deserve an answer considering what I've been through tonight!" Melinda seemed poised to retort, to tell me that it was none of my business, that she was the master and I the servant, but the level look in my eyes and the reminder of what had happened fresh in her mind caused her to sigh, "I wanted to find out what it was like to be with a woman," she finally said. "Ione, I love guys. I love their asses and their strong arms and their big cocks." I winced at her vulgarity and the hunger in her tone. I didn't have any of those things, I thought grimly. "But," she went on, "women have all sorts of other things. Soft skin and tender touches and boobs," she reached down and ran a finger over my nipple, causing me to inhale sharply and shudder."I could have found a woman, you know," she said before I could respond. "But I chose to experiment with you. That should say something, right?" "You like me better as a woman, then," I asked resignedly. Melinda didn't answer immediately, but when she did, it was with a quick shake of the head, "I like you, stupid!" she protested. "Ione, why do you have to question everything? This is a good thing we have. Why do you have to worry and fret about everything? Just enjoy the moment!" She threw the door open and hopped out, still in only her bra and panties, "Come on!" she said. "You owe me and I intend to collect." I sighed, deciding I'd gotten everything I could from the puzzle that was Melinda and began to adjust my neckline to hide my breasts, but she shook her head. "Don't," she said, grabbing my hands and starting to pull me out. "Leave it. We're going up to your room like this." I stared at her, resisting her pull for a moment. I could feel a chill so biting that it was like a living creature made of teeth and mean, and--well, it was a men's dorm. Even on a Saturday night with so many parties going on, there were bound to be some guys lurking around. "Better hurry," Melinda said, twirling around absently in her bra and panties, "or I'll make you do it nude." A shudder ran up my spine and, with a resigned sigh, I peered my head out, feeling the wind whipping through my shaggy hair. It was bitterly cold and, for a moment I wanted nothing more than to stay in the lingering heat of the car. But Melinda's mock impatience (because I had to believe she would have loved to make me run up to my room naked) and a desire to just get home after an...interesting night caused me to, with a heaving sigh, step out of the car. No sooner had I stepped out of the car than was I met with a jeering whistle and a cat call. "Yeah, shake it baby!" I jumped and looked around for whoever had spoken, but didn't find them until I'd looked up. A boy was hanging out the window, waving a beer can on us (was no one sober on Hillsborough University campus tonight?!) whooping and jeering at Melinda and I. I sputtered and flailed, about to cover up, but Melinda just laughed and called out, loudly enough for him to hear, "Don't cover up, Ione! Give the boy a show!" She shook herself a bit, reaching back to remove her own bra before I grabbed her hand and darted for the door, my chest heaving with each breath and my breasts bouncing with each staggering step. Melinda didn't resist my pull and simply cackled with a mad sort of glee, her bra hanging precariously from her arms, the latch in back undone. The trip from the entrance of the dorm to my room was no less harrowing. We saw at least four boys on our way up the stairs. The first two were in the entryway, chatting about some campus sporting event that I'd missed that afternoon. They turned when we entered, drawn by the motion and entrance of new students more than anything, and were shocked when they saw two half-naked girls run in through the door. We did not linger long enough to give them a show. The second boy we saw on the stairs, heading up to his room and talking on the phone. He was moving slower than us, so I pulled Melinda as quickly as I could past him before he really noticed us. I distinctly heard the phrase "what are you wearing?" as we rushed past. Did boys on this campus think about anything besides sex?! The final boy we saw was on my floor, leaving the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He stared at us as we rushed past and didn't look away the whole time I fumbled with my key, cursing my chattering teeth and shivering hands. I did my best not to look at him, but I could see out of the corner of my eye the tent pole that was holding up his towel conspicuously and his stare led me to believe he was committing the scene to memory, moreso after Melinda, finally given a moment without me pulling on her, removed her bra and tossed it playfully to him. Before we entered my room, I distinctly saw him go back into the bathroom, despite the fact that he'd clearly already showered, clutching Melinda's bra in his hands. How many boys would be dreaming about me tonight, I wondered as I leaned my back against the door and slid down to the floor. How many boys would be thinking about me and touching themselves? More likely they would be thinking about my breasts, I thought with a sigh. I was far too plain otherwise. But even I remembered when I was a boy. Seeing bare breasts in real life was a rare and wonderful thing. Melinda was giggling incoherently when I returned to my senses and looked around my room. "That was a fun night," she proclaimed, flopping onto my bed and rolling onto her back. "It was!" she insisted at my incredulous, downright shocked expression. "I mean, besides the horrible stuff. But...we're all alright, right? No harm done!" I groaned and thunked my head against the door behind me, "Are you alright?" I asked after a moment. "You're still...you look weird." She frowned, "Do I?" she looked down at herself seemingly for the first time. It had been hard to notice in the dim evening light, but she was seeing quite clearly now her strange skin color. She looked somewhat troubled by it, but shook it off quickly enough. "I'm sure it'll wear off eventually," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Besides, you like a little exoticness, right? Remember that one roleplay we did with the alien? You said that was super hot." I turned a bit red, "This isn't a story," I whined. "This is real life! You said you weren't allowed to cast magic on other people and it did something to you when you did, Melinda!" "But I'm ok now," she protested. "And that prick deserved it. In fact, he deserved to be turned into a naked, mindless bimbo and send walking home through the bad part of town!" she rolled over and sat up regally, "I order you to stop worrying about this!" I groaned and rubbed my eyes. I felt like she was repressing something serious here, but there was nothing I could do. One downside to wearing the ring was that she had control over me in regards to serious things like this, like whatever was troubling her about her parents' death. If she didn't want to talk, she wouldn't talk, and there was nothing I could do about it. "Take off your dress," Melinda said suddenly, rolling onto her back again and watching me upside down. Her words jarred me out of my thoughts and were so extremely contrary to what I had been thinking that, for a moment, I barely registered what she'd said. My confusion must have shown on my face, for she giggled and said it again. I stared at her. Her request seemed so absurd given the gravity of the thoughts I was having that I hardly believed she said it. I thought of putting my foot down. I thought of demanding that she speak to me about her troubles. But I forced myself to remember that I had to give her time, that she would have to tell me. Even without the ring, I wouldn't have been able to force her to confide her troubles in me. Maybe it was that she didn't trust me. Maybe it was simply that she needed time. Curiosity and worry nibbled at my insides like insidious little mice, but I had to throw them the cheese of patience and tell them to wait a little longer. Ok, maybe that metaphor was a little silly. There was another issue, however. I was getting more than my fill of my female sexuality that night. Not only had I been dripping myself all over the dance floor, awash in the sharpest and most intense feelings of arousal I'd ever felt in my life after less than a day as a woman, but I'd also nearly been raped and been accosted by my girlfriend in a car. Well, ok, the latter hadn't been so bad. I hadn't been forced to enjoy that, I legitimately had, and I would be lying if I said that being a woman didn't feel good. Like, really good. Extremely, amazingly, mind- blowingly good. But I couldn't force my rational mind to accept the bizarre circumstances I'd been thrust in so quickly. It was like going from third gear to reverse with nothing in between. No matter how good it may have felt, I still thought of myself as a man. I tried to resist her, but realized all too quickly that it would do absolutely no good, that she would force it on me anyways. This was the first time I felt trapped doing something--well, it wasn't that I didn't want to do it so much. A small part of me wanted nothing more, no matter how tired or sore or spent I was. That part of me wanted nothing more than to tear off that dress and take in my new female body. I hadn't seen myself naked yet and I couldn't deny that I was curious. But it was beginning to feel wrong to indulge her like this. I felt like I should have done something more. But, in the end, I caved. As always. With a sigh, I rose to my feet shakily. I hadn't realized how tired I was, how spent I was. Between spending the night in a heightened state of arousal, being accosted by George, and even Melinda's mind-blowing ministrations, I was afraid for a moment that I wouldn't even be able to stand. With almost a resigned expression on my face, I began to peel off the dress, pulling it tentatively over my head as Melinda watched, upside down, with a suddenly unreadable expression on her face. She was not watching me hungrily or greedily but rather with near reverence. I realized then that this was the first time she would have seen me naked as well despite the fact that she made my body the way it was. I wondered as I finally shed the dress, tossing it on the floor with an uncharacteristic flourish--as uncharacteristic as the shy smile I gave her--if she was thinking like a craftsman viewing their product for the first time, an artist their greatest masterpiece. "Damn bitch, you is fine," she suddenly said in an artificially husky voice, whistling and causing my smile to fade and my cheeks to burn crimson. Well, so much for that idea. She giggled, "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" she said playfully, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up by her elbows, seeming to take me in in a fresh light. "You really are pretty though, Ione. I do good work...but the canvas was high quality to begin with." I blushed again, but for different reasons. Her tender comment, even given her crude jest before, put my mind at ease--if only slightly. I decided then for certain that I could press the serious issues in the morning. After all, it's like she said. I owed her. I stood there for a moment, naked but for those silly shoes, resisting the urge to cover up. It was surprisingly easy to do when I reminded myself it was only Melinda looking at me just then. I didn't feel nervous or ashamed, like I should hide from her. I was almost comfortable--in a very uncomfortable way. It was a strange feeling to be sure. "C-Can I..." I began, realizing how quavering and husky my voice was, "can I...look at myself?" I asked somewhat lamely. "In a mirror, I mean." Melinda's grin split her features and she nodded. Hillsborough dorm rooms came with half-size mirrors in their closets. It was an old fashioned campus and there were surely a number of events of class that had happened at one time, requiring men to put on dinner jackets and dies and women to don frilly dresses and do up their hair. I thought for a fleeting moment with a thrill that, were there to be such a soiree today, I would not be wearing a tie. I wondered what my hair would look like done up as I walked with tentative, nervous steps towards the mirror, reaching up idly to play with it. Would I look like a woman? Would I be pretty? I stopped at the closet, hesitating for a moment before opening it up. I'd seen myself once, moments after I'd been changed, but I hadn't been in much of a mindset then. I had been disbelieving of the change, unaccepting. And I'd been barely able to even see straight. I wouldn't say I was completely accepting now, but...well, it had been a long night. I was tired and not entirely rational. What was the harm in being a woman? Just for a night. "Go ahead," Melinda said in that strangely gentle tone. "Take a look." I took a gulp of air and reached for the closet, watching my slim, naked arm as it made its way to reveal myself to--well, me. I hesitated only a moment with my hand on the cool metal door handle. "What the hell," I muttered to myself before pulling the door open. I was staring back at myself. Just as I remembered, it was a little unsettling to see my own features, but softer and more feminine, that femininity accented by the makeup I was wearing. It was clearly me, but it was also clearly a girl. My hair was a mess, I realized, and I idly ran my hands through it as I let my eyes trail down my face to parts unseen until now. My hair looked a lot like it had as a man, but there was more of it. It arched slightly to form a shaggy sort of natural frame to my long, narrow face and features. It was a mess, but I decided then that it looked good on me like that. My eyes traveled down my narrow neck to my pronounced, slender collarbone and then, finally, my breasts. I felt a bit faint when I first saw them there. This was the first time I'd seen them from head on, after all. And only the second pair I'd seen in my life, at least outside of pictures. It was a bit thrilling to think that they were mine. I stood on tippy- toes for a moment, trying to view them better, turning slightly to view them from a profile, then from straight on. They were slightly asymmetrical, which was strange to me. Melinda's were small enough that their sizes were symmetrical, though the nipples weren't perfect mirrors of one another. Though my own breasts weren't absurdly different sizes, a scrutinous gaze (like mine just then) could tell that one was slightly different shape and hung at a slightly different angle. It was strange to me to see two breasts that weren't perfectly formed and perfectly identical with my only experiences until that moment being the internet, where all the girls were immaculate. Or their breasts, anyways. I bounced my body a bit, watching them jiggle in the mirror and a rich red hue come to my cheeks. It was intense, the reality of the situation. These were my breasts, I told myself slightly and with a strange, uncharacteristic swell of pride. They were mine. "I really am a girl," I said softly, almost having forgotten that Melinda was in the room. I finally reached up as I spoke and cupped them, feeling their weight in my hands. It was strange to me that the mere act of touching them didn't send thrills of ecstasy through my body as I'd always imagined based on my experiences (on the internet). Just touching them, though slightly erotic due mainly to the fact that they were my breasts and I shouldn't have had breasts, wasn't much to write home about. But when my hands ran over my nipples, I took a sharp gulp of breath. That was the sensitive arousal I'd expected, perhaps not enough to knock me out on the spot, but certainly enough to cause me to feel a bit damp down below. Down there. I peered down, past my cleavage, but it was hard to see anything at all. I certainly didn't have a proud fleshy shaft sitting there, visible. All I could see besides the valley between my breasts was a expanse of flat, featureless stomach. I tried to bend forward a bit, but that only helped me catch a glimpse of my matted, slightly damp public hair. "Come here," Melinda said, patting the bed. I jumped a bit. I had completely forgotten she was there, despite the fact that my body alone should have reminded me of it. I turned swiftly as if she was intruding on something private and secret. I was surprised and more than a little shocked to see she was naked, her hand in her crotch lewdly. Had she been touching herself watching me explore my body? She patted the bed again, "Come here," she repeated. I hesitated, but eventually complied, my heels making walking awkward. I felt like my knees were numb and my head was swimming so that the room looked like it was wavering back and forth. I finally flounced onto the bed, vaguely surprised suddenly that I didn't bother to take off my shoes and that, as dizzy as I was, I could walk across the room in them. Melinda grinned at me, "Spread your legs," she said, not a command but more of a request. I watched her with a wary expression, which I think was entirely justified, given the circumstances. After a moment, however, I did so. Wordlessly, she placed her hand on my back and gently pressed me forward. At first, I wasn't sure what she was doing, but then I realized from this position, I could just make out my female sex, slightly open from my previous visual explorations of my body, and glistening slightly in the dim light of the room. I was transfixed. I'd been a woman for most of the day now, but it was still surreal to me to not see my manhood there, to not see my testicles. Even though I had felt the absence, the void, for hours now, I still half expected to see my penis there. I testingly flexed the muscles and, despite myself, giggled lightly when I saw the folds pulse in time with my efforts. "What do you think?" she asked, leaning on my back and watching me with a wry smile on her face. She peered over my shoulder as she spoke. I didn't answer immediately, nervous at her presence on something so private, but eventually I looked at her, "It's weird," I admitted. "You get used to having something your whole life and it's suddenly gone and replaced with...well, something I'd only dreamed about for years." "Touch it," she said proddingly. "Go ahead." I blushed, if possible, even more profusely at her command. But to say that I hadn't yet considered exploring these folds was a lie, so I did not resist her, though I did hesitate for a moment. I felt like this was almost forbidden territory, like I was...well, it was difficult to explain, but I felt like I was cheating on Melinda. It was me, yes, but it was also a woman. But I did as she asked and reached my hand tentatively into my crotch. As she had done hours before, I placed a finger on each of the lips and parted them slightly. This simple, exploratory act caused my breath to quicken, not necessarily in arousal (though it certainly did cause a creeping, tingling sensation to wash through me), but with the intense surreality of the situation, the notion that I was playing with my own pussy. A lump formed in my throat and I felt almost feverish as I watched my strange new sex unfold under my probing hands. "Go on," Melinda said with a grin. I felt her bare, unrestrained breasts press into my back as she watched over my shoulder. She reached around me, taking my free hand and gently guiding it towards my sex. "I-I thought I owed you," I said nervously. I felt like this was going a little fast, though I realized rationally that this was a silly notion. I was hardly doing anything and, after all, this was my body. "You don't think I'm enjoying this?" I blinked. Her breath sounded somewhat husky and, glancing further back, I noticed her hand snaking down behind me. I could feel it moving in gentle, rhythmic motions. I realized with a start that she was fingering herself. Just as I realized this, she put my hand in my crotch, "Go on," she said again, a bit breathier than before. I groaned slightly when my fingers first came into contact with those folds. I ran it up and down the exposed slit, a testing motion, and felt my vision waver intensely. Melinda grinned, "Try sticking a finger in," she said helpfully. I felt her hand, which was necessarily rubbing up against my butt as she continued her own personal ministrations, move slightly and somehow knew she was doing the same, whether because she had just suggested it to me or because she'd groaned just then. I did as she asked without hesitation. I let out a sharp, sudden breath. On a scale of one to weird, that feeling had been completely bizarre! I retracted it immediately out of shock, pushing Melinda's hand away in the process. She giggled and removed her hand, but I didn't need it anymore. I placed my free hand back in my crotch and stuck another finger in. Again, though it was certainly causing my already heightened arousal to continue to rise, it was more the bizarre sensation that caused my breath to quicken. The bizarre sensation and my mind rationalizing what I was doing. Here I was, a man in the body of a woman, sticking my finger into my body. I had something inside of me. The feeling itself was intense enough, but the idea of what it represented caused my vaginal walls to pulse with need. "Pretty awesome, isn't it?" Melinda said in a whispery, halting voice, her mouth in my ear, kissing it once for good measure. "Have you found the clit yet?" I believed that I had, but I hadn't done much with it. I didn't need her to tell me what to do then. Leaning back and propping myself up with my first hand--I hardly needed it any longer to keep my pussy open, after all--I ran my finger up the length of the slit to the top, where the tiny nub rested, slightly hooded. I flicked it gently, completely unprepared for what came next. It was like my whole world spun around me. I fell back onto my arm and let out a long, loud moan. I was vaguely aware of Melinda's gleeful giggle, which shuddered at the same time as my moan. She had been mirroring my actions thus far, and likely did so just then. My vagina had been moist before, but with this much attention, it was positively sopping with odorous juices that filled my room with a scent I never believed any domicile I lived in would have. "Keep going," Melinda goaded, "don't stop." In my state of mind, I could hardly do anything else. Running my finger up and down the slit again, I once more paused at the clit and was once more rewarded with the most singularly intense feeling of my entire life. It sent my body rippling and my vision swimming. I would have toppled backward on the bed were Melinda not intent on staying pressed up behind me. Her own moans mingled with mine and we continued out own ministrations in time. She finally reached around and pulled my hand out of my crotch. For the first time, I resisted her making me stop, my eyes cracking open as I gazed at her. Her smile was so sensual that I knew I wanted to hear what she had to say. "Together," she breathed, s. "I want to cum together. You can't until I do." This was a wise move, I had to admit. Undoubtedly I would orgasm well before Melinda. I'd only had two female orgasms, after all, and my stamina already seemed to be somewhat lower than hers. At least for sexual things. She pressed me down to the bed and pressed our bodies together. Once again, our lips met, but for the first time, this was not the feeling my mind lingered on. It was the feeling of our breasts pressed together, her small, perky things against my larger fleshy mounds. It was strange and sensual in a way that made me almost forget about our vaginas being the focus of the night. For a long time, we lay together, her on top of me, mashing her lips into my lips and her breasts into my breasts. But eventually, I felt her hand wrap around my hand. She didn't speak, which was odd. She'd always been chatty in bed, after all. She guided my hand into her crotch and placed hers in mine. I was struck by how strangely awkward this was for her after how confident she'd always been before. I slowly sat up, feeling like never before the weight of my breasts as I did so. We sat, facing each other. It was an awkward scene, but eventually we found a rhythm, her more-practiced hands swirling around in my crotch and my slightly shaky, uncertain hands in hers. I'd never done this to a woman and I certainly was no expert due to my own body. But I found her clitoris, which actually seemed slightly larger than mine (they came in different sizes?!) and after that, it all became easier. I was slightly hampered by her command upon me, that I could not cum until she did. She had amazing endurance, and kept me working for what felt like hours--though I later found out it was only about five minutes. We must have looked quite the sight. Were someone to walk into my room just then, they would have seen a pair of naked women, one small and lithe with little curves to speak of facing a taller, lankier girl with little curves to speak of, their hands in each other's crotches, gazing at each other longingly. Occasionally, the littler girl would lean in to kiss the taller, but they both would seem, to the onlooker, devoted to this particular mutual stimulation, as if it had to be done with the hands. My own orgasm would have likely come and gone a dozen times before Melinda's even approached and, for my part, I could barely keep my hand moving in anything but spastic twitches by the end. Melinda helped by putting her hand on mine and gently guiding it, but it was always my hand in her vagina. Finally, her body began to tremble and stiffen before, with mutual cries of ultimate release, with both collapsed to the bed, my own intense arousal smashing into me all at once. I orgasmed for an eternity of eternities and was completely dead to the world the entire time. I vaguely recognized that Melinda had crashed to the bed beside me and was bucking herself into my hand the entire time, but I couldn't have been certain, for the world was a distant and indistinct haze. It all came into blurry focus many hours later. My alarm clock next to the bed read a hazy 4:00 a.m. And I could hear the wind howling outside the window. Despite it all, I was quite cozy and warm. Melinda's sweaty body was sprawled out on top of me, snoring slightly in slumber. Her hand was still in my crotch, I realized as I squirmed slightly (which caused another moan to escape my lips) and mine was still in hers. I didn't remove it. Not for the long moments I stared at her before drifting back into one of the deepest, most peaceful, and most well- deserved sleeps I'd ever experienced.