Hey everyone! It's been a while since I contributed. I've been continuing to write on other sites, but a lot of my tg-themed projects have run into blocks, and remain half-completed in a world document that I keep on my computer. However, I was struck by an idea that I liked very much a few weeks ago, and have endeavoured to start writing it.
Typically, my stories have been snippets, little short pieces that are essentially framing devices to allow me to write a transformation of some sort. However, for this one, I wanted to try to write characters who had a bit more depth and motivation to them. I want to write a protracted tg (slow transformations are typically my favourites, both to read and write), which should be enjoyable, but also something that stands on its own as an interesting story.
As always, I am very happy to receive feedback and criticism on my writing.
*****
Covert Dreams
There she was, her back flat against the bed, her skin as smooth and perfect as I’d imagined it, her dark hair scattered on the pillow. Everything else was hazy, but Valerie… I saw her with perfect clarity. She was gorgeous, wonderful…
sexy as hell in a lacy black bra and panties. Her lazy smile invited me down, and I realized that I was already naked. I slid myself onto the bed, and embraced her. I was painfully aroused as our bodies entwined, my hands running over her every curve and crevice.
“I want you…
in me.”
Something was terribly wrong, I faintly realized. It wasn’t her voice. Abruptly, Val was just a passive object, a mannequin of flesh. She lay in place, moving but not responding. It was her underwear, speaking to me.
“I want you in me, Simon.”
I awoke in erotic discomfort, looking around to find myself in the dimly-lit early morning of my bedroom. It was
that dream again. I felt a sticky dampness around my groin, and groaned at the mess I would have to clean up. As the cloudiness of sleep began to lift away from me, I noticed something else amiss. Reaching down, I felt a strange fabric. I pulled my sheets back and looked.
“…the fuck?” I mumbled, shaking my head and blinking. There, framed in black lace, were the panties. From the dream.
On me.
Well, actually, they weren’t just from the dream. I’d seen them before. I’d found them in the laundry room a few weeks earlier, when Val had been doing her laundry, and snuck them back into my room- they were still hidden in my sock drawer, or so I’d assumed.
Now, wakefulness hit me more solidly. I had women’s underwear on! What the hell? I hadn’t taken them out of the drawer. Had I? Was I drunk last night?
I was quite sure that I had been neither drunk, nor daring enough to take my illicit treasure from its hiding place. Still…
Damnit. I felt myself growing hard again. The feeling of Val’s underwear against my skin was too arousing for me to resist. I pulled my sheets back up over my body. My hands descended, and I began to masturbate, imagining her lying alongside me, her legs wrapped around my hips, her fingers digging into my back, our two bodies made to one!
I shuddered and came. Shame immediately overcame my arousal, and I went limp in body and spirit.
“I’m a fucked up degenerate.” I whispered to myself, bitterly. Something inside me said that this wasn’t normal. It shouldn’t be, it never had been. I needed to talk to someone- not that I had the guts to do that. I was too embarrassed to even breach the topic of even ‘normal’ sex in conversation, let alone the bizarre shit that suited my kinks.
Disgusted with myself, I pulled off the garment, and hurled it into my laundry basket. With a heavy heart, I removed my bedsheets and put them overtop of the evidence, before walking to the shower to clean myself of evidence.
A few minutes, I entered the kitchen. My floormate Michael nodded to me and gestured to the coffee maker. I nodded in thanks and grabbed a cup, pouring myself some cereal as well.
“You’re looking rough this morning.”
I froze. Was there something on me? My eyes surreptitiously scanned my body, but came up empty.
Michael, the frustratingly perceptive person that he was, picked up on my discomfort immediately.
“Girl problems?”
“Man, you don’t even-”
“It’s Valerie, isn’t it?”
I gave him a reticent glare. He rolled his eyes back at me.
“I know you-”
“Not now.”
“Look, I’ve told you Megan’s friends with her, she can set you two up-”
“
No.” I was a bit harsher in my tone than I’d intended. Michael raised his hands defensively, his expression perplexed.
“No thanks.” I corrected myself, “Thanks, but I’m okay.”
Michael opened his mouth and looked like he was about to dispute that statement, but thought better of it. He finished his eggs and toast in silence, and placed his dishes in the sink.
“Enjoy your breakfast. I’ve gotta head out early for a rehearsal.”
“Later.” I mumbled, not making eye contact. The door squeaked open and shut with a click. I felt a little bad for brushing him off- Michael meant well. He was trying to help, it was what the man did. You could call him a busybody, but that wasn’t really fair. He was just… empathetic. He saw problems, then immediately went to fix them. I just… bleh. I didn’t want to talk about my stupid, embarassing self-inflicted problems. I’d had relationships before, in high school, but they were little childish things, in hindsight. Valerie was… different. Special. I’d idolized her when I met her. I should have just gone up to her after a few weeks and told her how I felt, but I’d hesitated and she started dating some soccer player. We’d become good friends, and when she’d broken up after a few months I decided I’d give her some time before asking her out. And that time had just stretched on and on.
I gripped my cereal spoon tightly, in frustration at my past decisions. To avoid being a creep, I’d held myself away from her, and now I felt like it would be even worse to say that I liked her, after all these months. I’d ruthlessly and effectively friend zoned myself, and now I was masturbating in illicit lingerie… which could only make things worse.
Abruptly, I looked up, to see that I had eight minutes to get to classes. Cursing, I abandoned my nigh-untouched meal, scrambled to find my bags, and sprinted out the door.