For a Girl, J.T. D'Arelli [reading fiction txt] 📗

deep into me. Ever so deep. Ever so nice. My breathing increased as I moved my other hand to explore my vulva. It wasn't long before I found the erect clitoris — the tiny, feminine remnant of what had once been my penis. Oh! It felt... Oh! Soooo sweet!

Now, for the first time, I was masturbating as a girl. This time I was in charge of my body. My clitoris was even more sensitive than the tip of my penis had been. Mmmmm! That, combined with the steady pumping of my other finger in and out of me, was quickly creating a glow — an approaching wave I had grown to recognize. Yes! More... please, more!

I found myself wishing I had a third hand to stroke my breasts, which had swelled even larger, the nipples the size of thimbles. I alternated one hand between my chest and my womanly crotch to take advantage of all the delightful new parts I had.

Ohhhh! Heaven... it's heaven!

My clitoris was now every bit as hard as my penis had been — and each caress around it took me to a new level of excitement. My vagina was producing new fluids that seemed even more slippery than the water in my bath. I spread the lubricant over my vulva, which made the caressing all the more satisfying.

I was moaning in my soft, girlish voice — my hips pushing up, seeking the penetration my vagina demanded. Dr. Wilson was right — 'she' sure was insistent! Since there was no boy around, my finger would have to do. I felt the wave come closer and I knew it wouldn't be long now.

Oh, yes... my body... my girl's body... oh I love my girl's body... yesss!

Somehow I found the perfect combination of nipples and clitoris and vagina and that sent me over the edge. The wave carried me up and then crashed down on me. My vagina contracted tightly around my finger, holding it in place — adamant that I remain inside 'her'.

Don't stop... please don't stop... ohhhh!

Shaking and trembling, I cried out as my orgasm lifted me to heights I'd never imagined.

Never... never will I regret being a girl! Never!

Not... not if I can feel... soooo... sooo goood!

Gasping for air, I slowly came down from the peak. Oh my god, that was incredible! Still more intense than my 'spontaneous' climaxes and a whole universe apart from the male equivalent. I was too weak to move for several minutes - just letting the warm water caress every inch of this wonderful female body I now inhabited!

Okay. Before this gets out of hand, let me point out how people under the influence of certain stimuli (drugs, alcohol, sex or MTV's 'Jackass') aren't really thinking clearly. Earlier today, my orgasms had rendered me pliant to Principal Grogan — submitting to an exploitation I never would have accepted in my right mind. And the delight I'd just experienced a moment ago did not mean I didn't still resent what GB had done to me.

But I was rapidly learning that being a girl did have its compensations. If I had to be stuck this way forever — well, there were worse fates. With a naughty smile, I finished my bath and stepped out of the tub. I was just reaching for my towel when my mother walked in.

Opposite sex family members really have no business seeing each other naked once the child nears puberty. On those few occasions when my Mom and I had opened a door at the wrong moment, we'd quickly covered up. But now that we were both the same gender, I strangely felt no embarrassment at being unclad in front of her. I leisurely toweled off while she looked at me. I suddenly remembered this was the first time she'd seen me naked as a girl. After a couple of moments of staring she apologized.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie — I'm just so mesmerized by you. You really are my daughter!"

"In the flesh, Mom."

"I'm not sure how I feel about this. I love you as much as ever, but I miss my son, too. And I also think I'm jealous of how gorgeous you are."

I blushed. I had mixed feelings as well. It was weird hearing my mother praise my femininity. And yet it was kind of... gratifying.

That night I couldn't resist 'getting acquainted' with myself again. And again. And again. Perhaps the most marvelous thing about female sexuality was how I no longer required 'down time' in between those mind-shattering orgasms. So I acted like a kid at Christmas, enjoying her new toy. God, it was fun! All I had to do was reach down between my smooth legs, and there it was — waiting to deliver one incredible climax after another.

At least I had the presence of mind to strip off my panties and cover the bed with a towel beforehand — the only way to control the eruptions from 'Old Faithful'. I also found different positions could produce even greater delight. My favorite was lying on my back, one forearm reaching behind my knees and pulling them all the way to my swollen breasts, while my other hand reached around my sexy ass to part my labia and marvel at the treasures within.

And it wasn't long before I used the same techniques to enhance the experience as when I was a boy. Fantasies. Only this time, the genders were reversed. No more imagining myself in bed with Sue or some stacked Playboy centerfold. No — now it was a succession of males. Initially, my fantasies focused on filling the emptiness that so desperately beckoned me — deep inside my girl's body. I conjured a variety of ethereal members that plunged into me — over and over.

But soon my fantasies grew elaborate — I found myself with a phalanx of lovers caressing every inch of me. I'd stroke my nipples and envision a man's hand doing the same. I'd trace gentle circles around my clitoris and pretend his tongue was lapping away. I'd send a finger into my ever-so- wet vagina and dream of his penis filling me up, oh! Filling me up so completely.

At first faceless, my dream lover became more fleshed out — until Thursday night, when I lay gasping after my third orgasm and realized I'd just dreamed of Hal making love to me — that same penis I'd seen in the locker-room shower so many times before, now fully erect — taking my virginity as our bodies blended together — boy and girl, man and woman.

And I was the woman. And I liked it. No — I loved it.

As I made the journey from male to female sexuality, there were some bumps. Once, I found myself stroking my clitoris as if it were my old equipment. It tried, oh it did try. It would swell and grow hard in response to my touch. But even at maximum stimulation, it could only achieve an inch or so in size. Just like the rest of me, my once proud penis had been fully transitioned into girlhood — a tiny, delicate, little clitoris. Bathed in an endless sea of femininity — 'she' could only dream of what she had been, but would never be again. 'Her' masculinity taken from her — her erection now so small it could easily be contained within the snuggest of womanly panties.

So there was a little backsliding as I missed what I had been. But only a little. The overwhelming physical pleasure of being a girl, combined with the rich fantasy life I was constructing — was rapidly altering my outlook. After a few nights of masturbating as a young woman, I began to wonder if I was approaching the 20 percent of GB ladies who preferred their lovely new bodies to what they had before.

Dr. Wilson had been right — I had no more spontaneous orgasms. Apparently, as long as I satisfied my desires at night, my vagina would behave 'herself' during the day. That was for the best, because it was clear that Hal and I were falling for each other. Our conversations were awkward and shy, but with the intense subtext that marked two people attracted to one another. When I was talking with him, I couldn't help but recall the delightful sexual reveries I'd been having about him. That had to be showing on my face — I didn't intend to give him 'come-hither' eyes, but I just couldn't help it. He was so sweet and so... so damn cute!

I never could have imagined myself seeing a boy as sexy — but there it was. My journey to mental girlhood was moving inexorably forward. Not only was I assessing a guy on the basis of looks, I was now imagining him... me... us. Of course, that led to endless teasing and giggles on the part of Sue, Arleen and even Becky — who'd resigned herself to the whole mess with extraordinary grace.

Yeah, it was a regular Peyton Place around my circle. Arleen wanted me, I wanted Hal, Becky wanted Hal, Hal wanted me, but I still missed Sue, who still missed Jack, who used to be Hal's best friend! I thought of the old J. Geil's song:

You love her,

but she loves him

and he loves somebody else,

you just can't win.

True to her word, Sue took me bikini-shopping. Milford had a small department store, which catered heavily toward the overalls and sundresses that marked country 'fashion'. But recently, they'd improved their stock of contemporary clothing for teenage girls — a fact to which I'd been oblivious, for understandable reasons. Sue quickly acquainted me with the endless options of bathing suit styles: high-cut, hipsters and (shudder) thongs.

Bizarre did not begin to describe my feelings at dashing in and out of changing rooms with Sue — trying on one outfit after another, while seeing my former girlfriend (romantic version) totally nude. She was lovely, but it just wasn't the same. A week ago, a vision of Sue like this would have made me harder than a case of Viagra. Now, nothing. Sigh.

And then there were the bikinis themselves. Sue tried to force me into the skimpiest ones possible, but I drew the line at thongs. There was no way I was going to give any boy that kind of a thrill. Girls' bathing suits were so... revealing! I could barely stand to have Sue see me in them — and we were the same gender. How was I going to muster the courage to wear one in public?

In the end, I settled on a cream-colored two-piece that was rather daring in the front, making the most of my breasts — but more conservative in the back, with 'full-seat coverage'. I was getting comfortable with having cleavage, but no 'butt-floss' for me. I was stunned at the sight of myself in the bathing suit. God, I was so... female!

Sue looked at me with an open expression of envy. "Stephanie — I seriously think I'd sell my soul for your chest."

I blushed — I was doing that a lot these days. Such a change — before GB, I'd have loved having a girl express desire for my body. Now the sentiment was a little different, to say the least.

Friday came around. I'd worn dresses and such all week, so I took a day off from flaunting my femininity and wriggled into a snug pair of low-rider jeans and a simple cotton blouse. It felt a little odd to be in pants again. I enjoyed the freedom of not having to keep my legs together, and yet — I missed the swirling flow of a skirt. I realized that moment that I'd taken another step towards womanhood: — I didn't just tolerate skirts, I actually kind of preferred to be in them! I found myself looking forward to Monday, when I could put on another dress for school.

How had this happened to me? A week ago I was a boy, for heaven's sake! My only