My alarm startles me awake. I don’t normally sleep so solidly but this time, I did. No dreams to remember at all, either. Just pure solid sleep. I feel really good and relaxed. Until I sit up. There’s this dull ache way low in my stomach. It’s not terrible but it’s uncomfortable as hell and almost feels like the leftovers of being kicked in the balls. I grimace against the pain and rub under my balls gently. Too much masturbating and being hard almost all day yesterday, probably. I ignore it and take my shower. In fact, I ignore a lot of what happened yesterday. The memory of the night before last is there but easier to shove away. And the other stuff? I just kind of put it into this little mental box and bury it.
I feel like toasted crap but the shower works wonders. Turned up almost all the way, I just stand and turn this way and that to let the hot water wash over my body. Luxurious. Usually my showers are short but the hot water is working my muscles, relaxing them. Loosening them. I hadn’t noticed how stiff I was from everything. Mmmm… my skin feels especially sensitive at the moment, in a good way but also in that crazy almost-too-much-to-bear tickling sensitivity. Definitely going to change my detergent.
When the water turns slightly colder, I grab the soap and lather my hands. Wow. I am sensitive. And my skin is really smooth. Crazy smooth. I guess I hadn’t realized what losing my body hair meant because my hands just glide over my ches- OH SHIT! My nipples feel really good right now. Could it be? I look down but, no, they’re just my nipples. Small with the little, barely quarter sized aureole around them. Erect, sure, but I’m playing with them. It’s much more noticeable – the jolt to my balls. Huh. It also makes the ache less… ache-y. I lean back against the shower wall, out of the stream of water, and rub both nipples. Fuck, yes. I’m rock hard from the feeling but not even thinking of touching my dick because my nipples feel so … different. Left over response from the other night but, unlike the confused imagery from yesterday, I’ll gladly take it.
I don’t notice my right hand going down to my thigh. My left middle and index fingers are rubbing and tweaking my tiny left nipple while my right hand has settled on the crease between my inner thigh and balls. My eyes are closed, not imagining anything – just losing myself in the feeling of the live nerve running straight from my nipple to my dick. I’m pressing the fingers and flat of my right hand against the side of my balls and inner thigh – rubbing the area in a down and forward motion over and over as if massaging myself. If I were noticing it, I’d say it felt good in an odd way. But, I don’t notice it and I’m not doing it on purpose. All I know is the – FUCK! I buckle and fall on my ass, thankful there’s some padding there.
Shaking. I’m sh… shaking and…. Jesus, it’s hard to breathe. My dick is pumping, cumming against the walls. Pale glops of sperm hitting here and there and being taken down by the water. I can’t seem to control my body. My hips keep jerking and my legs are like a pair of snakes fighting in a bag. I won’t ever admit it but that small part of me that’s coherent through the orgasm and shaking is faintly sad that the cum is gone to where I can’t get it.
My body settles after a little bit of the strange jerkiness. I have my arms clenched around my chest and lower stomach and I’m breathing hard. I have, never in my life, ever cum without my dick being involved in some way. Ever. My dick is flaccid against my balls and that ache is back deep in me. I curse myself for getting worked up and making it worse but what’s done is done and the shower’s going cold. I go to my knees, ignoring the image of the she-wolf on her knees, and, but no, I can’t stand. I can reach the shampoo bottle from where I am so I quickly clean my hair and turn off the cold water.
So, I sit. Kneel. With my hands on my thighs and my eyes closed. Breathing. Wiggling my toes. When I’m sure I can stand, I do, leaning on the walls for support. I’m careful with the towel as I dry off since I’m still sensitive and my nipples feel painful from me messing with them.
There’s barely time to brush my teeth and grab a protein bar to eat on the way to work so I rush through it. The tags come of off my new clothes really easily and I’m pleased to feel the silk cool and soft against my chest. No irritation for the skin like my other shirt and even my sore nipples aren’t bothered. The pants are a little tight in the seat and sides but I’m sure I’ll ease into them the more I wear them. I do a quick glance in the mirror to make sure I didn’t miss any tags, turning to the side to see the back and… huh. My ass looks good in these slacks. Reaching back, I check and feel a plumpness that wasn’t there before. I think the tightness of them are pushing at the skin and making it seem like I actually have an ass. Like those bras that make a lady seem to have more cleavage than she actually has. I twirl a bit to see both sides but my other alarm goes off so I head out.
It’s a gray day but I feel oddly cheerful. I can’t figure out why but I’m tapping the steering wheel and humming some half-remembered song as I drive along to work, singing out the wrong lyrics off-key. I’m even grinning at random people during the stop-and-go part of the traffic. Why shouldn’t I be happy? I turned into a fucking werewolf the other night! Why haven’t I stopped to think about it and be amazed? A goddamned werewolf! Sure, I barely remember it but it happened. And, okay, as a woman too but still a werewolf. I almost feel like laughing out loud suddenly. Who’d believe it? It’s something I’ll remember until the day I die. Even the dull ache under my balls isn’t enough to dampen my good mood. Everything just seems so much brighter. It’s crazy.
I call out good morning to different people as I make my way to my desk at work, humming as I go along. Tea, protein bar, email. Done. I settle into it and time passes. Things are starting to feel more routine. I check my mail for credit references, new customer forms and anything from my boss. There’s a nice stack of things for me to deal with so I get started and time passes.
“You probably want to get that checked, man.” The voice startles me badly. I get sucked into work easily. The easy monotony of paperwork and the combination of living alone and not having a TV means I’m not surrounded by people and noise constantly. Add in what happened the past two nights and me being on edge in general and I find I’m way jumpier than usual.
“Get what… Oh.” I’ve been scratching my chest again. I hadn’t even noticed myself doing it. Slow, long scratches. “Yeah, just not paying attention. What’s up, Ed?” I ask.
“Did you see my email about Aquatica? I really need you to open them up in the system. I’ve got a $20,000 order waiting to go through.” Ed looks like he could be on drugs. Skinny, twitchy, eyes darting here and there and this strange energy. I keep waiting for him to try to borrow money from me for some fake reason while actually going out to buy cocaine or meth or whatever druggies use. I know shockingly little about drugs and I’m okay with that. That’s why god invented vodka.
“Yeah, I did. And you know what they did the past two times. We had to fight them to pay us back.” I tell him. It’s true, too. They’re a terrible company.
“Come onnnn, man. I know their sales rep and she swears she’ll pay on time.” He looks like he’s about to pee himself. The company gossip (I hear it second hand by snooping on conversations) is that Ed has a problem with money – a boat, car and a house he can’t afford. And probably a heroin habit. Or cocaine. Whatever.
I shrug. “Ed, I can’t do it. It’s-”
“Rebecca said they’d pay it! I talked to her myself. Yeah, they had problems before but they need our engines for some of their new boats. They’ll pay. She said. They have guaranteed work.” His cheeks are flushed. He’s mad. I can feel my heart speeding up. My previously cheerful mood is evaporating.
“My boss has the file, Ed. Talk to him if-”
“Fuck. Seriously? Can you talk to him? I’ll send you the emails.”
“Ed, I explained everything to him but-”
“Jesus. Same damn thing every time. Why do I even ask? I’ll talk to your damn boss.” He leaves in a huff and I can feel my heart hammering. Stupid. Stupid. It’s not my fault! I can feel tears starting at the corner of my eyes and I rub at them to try to keep them away. My face feels hot to the touch. I turn my head away from the other cubicles to stare at the palm of my hands. Why the hell am I crying? I’m fine. I was happy. I… a tear squeezes out to fall on my hand. I can almost feel my breath hitching, threatening an actual crying fit. I’m breathing fast and shallow and another tear creeps out, rolls across my flushed cheeks and falls. What’s wrong with me? Ed’s an asshole but that wasn’t a big deal. I just… I squeeze my eyes shut and feel the tears leak out. I can’t catch my breath properly. I haven’t cried since my dog died when I was a kid. Not a full blown cry like this.
It takes five minutes before my breathing is back to normal. My face is still warm and my eyes are watery but I don’t feel like I’m about to have a crying fit over some stupid little-! Argh! I can feel it starting again just at the thought of Ed and his problem. No. No, no. More deep breaths. Slowly. How stupid is this? I know it’s not my fault. There’s no way this should upset me like that. I want to go home. I don’t want anyone to look at me. I just want to be home under covers. In the dark. Goddammit. I can feel my throat hurting from needing to cry but I shove it down yet again.
My computer’s clock lists the time at a little past 11 – nearly lunch time. I clear my throat a few times until I’m sure I’m okay. I sniff once, yell at myself mentally and then blow my nose. I still feel like crying. I hate this. I hate this feeling. I need a vacation. I knew there would be a breaking point from the stress of dealing with assholes at work but this is too much. I look stupidly at the form in front of me, trying to will myself to work. Trying to make the thing make sense.
I don’t jump at the voice this time but it takes a second to recognize someone is talking to me. “Are you all right?” The voice asks. I nod my head, cough a little and rub at my eyes.
“Allergies.” I say. My voice is hoarse and it hurts to talk. I rub at my throat a bit but it doesn’t make it feel better. “What’s up, Sarah?”
“I just emailed you some forms for a new customer and I need them all approved in an hour. I can have their references in ten minutes but it’s a new place and they’re big and promising some nice orders if we hustle.” Sarah is one of them. One of the bitchy ladies. You can tell it by the bitch creases at the corner of her eyes and by the way she opens her mouth and the bitchiness just rolls off her tongue. Snap to it. I’m more important than anything else, etc… etc…
I’m growling deep in my throat because it seems to help a little. Like a little massage. A simple little ‘rrrrrrrrr’ sound that’s very quiet. I think. Sarah doesn’t seem to notice. I can feel the stress starting up again. I hate it. “I can’t. I have three other things Ed needs right now. Anyway. did the GM sign off on it since it’s a rush job?”
What was it? What finally does it? The way she grimaces? Or the way she rolls her eyes? Simply the way she talks? Her tone? The heavy, over-dramatic sigh? She starts to talk but I don’t let her. I can feel this sudden anger. My whole body flushes with heat and I just feel a sudden rage. Face still hot and the tears threatening to come back, I feel mad. My voice is scratchy and I’m probably crying but I don’t give a flying fuck. Words just start pouring out of my mouth. Louder and louder. “Stop. Don’t say anything, Sarah. Don’t say another word. I’m tired of the shit. Tired of you coming over here and giving me attitude that I don’t deserved. D…” My voice stumbles and squeaks, changing pitch for a moment. “Don’t come over here giving me bullshit just because I’m doing my job and making sure we don’t get fucked. JESUS!” I stomp my foot and I can feel my hands trembling at my sides. I’m so damn angry and tired right now. And, yes, I can feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks. My chin would probably be trembling if I weren’t clamping my jaw so tight.
Sarah is astounded. Her mouth is open and her eyes are wide in shock. Is this what I looked like yesterday at the department store? She tries to talk for a moment and I stare back, as hard as I can. My mouth is a thin slit of anger. Everyone is pointedly not looking our way but still listening really hard. “I… I…” And then she walks away. She just turns and leaves. I stare at her back until she’s out of sight.
The men’s bathroom is only ten feet away. I’m there in seconds, locking the door behind me. It’s a small one person bathroom so I thankfully have the whole thing to myself. I collapse onto the toilet with my arms wrapped around my chest, crying as quietly as I can. It’s a hard cry. I probably look like a fool with snot and tears running. I taking great gulps of air with each sob. I can’t seem to stop it happening. The weird thing is that, mentally I don’t exactly feel like I should be crying. Logically, I know I’m fine. I just can’t stop it.
And then I’m laughing. And crying. Quietly. No, I don’t know why I’m laughing, either. I just ride it out. I decide if I can’t control my own emotions then I’m just going to mentally sit back and let it happen. Now I notice my pants are actually digging into my sides a bit – definitely tighter than I thought they were. It’s making it harder for me to catch my breath. I’d do something about it if I could stop crying. And by degrees, I calm down. Slowly. From quiet gulps of air to hiccups to sniffling and little bits of fragmented laughter. My stomach is in knots and my head is pounding.
Toilet paper doesn’t make good for good tissue paper but it’s better than nothing and I go through half of a roll cleaning off all the snot and tears. My face hurts. From all the crying. Just aches from my jaw to the sides of my face and up. I toss the toilet paper in the trash and go to the mirror to survey the damage. My eyes are all red. Naturally. Something else is off but my head hur… What the fuck? I stare. I stand up straight and stare with my hands on the edge of the cold ceramic sink.
Nipples. The silk shirt I’m wearing is a fairly simple medium-sized red short-sleeve design. No pockets or anything like that. I don’t like pockets on my shirts. My nipples are pressed against the shirt and they’re very obviously there. And large. Like a woman’s nipples. Now that I see them, I can feel them against the shirt. I bite my bottom lip at the feeling of how they glide against the fabric. It’s sensuous and I can feel the throbbing in my pants from both the feeling of it and simply seeing them pressing against the shirt. As if hypnotized, my hands go to the buttons of my shirt and undo them. Slowly, I pull the shirt open.
Fat dark brown nipples. I can feel the air moving against them. The aureole is way larger, slightly puffy looking and also a darker brown color. My chest is flat. Well, no, that’s wrong. Let me rephrase – I used to have almost man-boobs. When I lost the fat yesterday, I had some semblance of pectorals. Not quite but still there. Except not any more.
I have budding breasts under the nipples. Barely anything but I can see the swell. A little girl’s breasts. I grimace at that thought but I’m not a little girl. And the nipples are certainly not something that belong on a child – I’ve seen grown women with smaller ones. My hand reaches for one of them but stop just an inch away. My heart is pounding and the hand near the nipple is shaking slightly. I lean into the mirror to see better and then touch the nipple. The jolt is immediate and I bite my lip again, moaning slightly. The skin around the nipple shrivels slightly as if gathering up and I can feel a slight pull as the nipple hardens.
I can’t help it. I push harder against the nipple, rolling it around. My head goes back – the feeling is intense. I can’t hold back the “Ohhhh godddd” moan that escapes my lips. My breast is small but soft and I feel the softness against my fingers as I push the nipple in and around. The shock of the feeling goes straight to my feet by way of my balls. Way worse than what I experienced in the shower this morning. And by worse I mean “Holy Jesus Fuck that feels amazing.” My hand automatically cups the small breast while I pinch and roll the nipple with my fingers. It’s different being the lady rather than the man in this position but it works. I can barely stay standing. My legs keep wanting to buckle and it’s hard to concentrate on anything other than this delicious itching/tickling/electrical thing that’s going on in my body. My nerves are alive with it and I can feel the pressure building for me to cum.
It’s hard to stop but I do. After double-checking the lock on the door, I make my way back to the toilet. My shirt comes off and goes on the little hook nearby. I unbutton my pants and have to struggle to get them off of my hips – they’re wider now. I can see the difference because they flare out slightly. I run my hands from my sides down to the hips and I think I could just stand there touching myself like this for hours. My whole body is smooth and sensitive to the touch. And I have an ass now – it bubbles out slightly and is nearly as soft as my tit feels. I knead the flesh of my ass cheeks and moan again, louder this time. Pulling and kneading and massaging… my balls are aching from all this torture. I need to cum badly. When I sit on the toilet seat, I can feel the way my ass squishes slightly. And then, I notice my dick. It’s smaller. Completely hard but maybe four or five inches instead of the seven inches it should be. I should be scared but I’m not. At all.
My left hand goes to my left tit. It’s bigger now. Slightly bigger. I massage the breast over and over, twisting my feet at the feeling. My right hand automatically goes between my thigh and balls again, rubbing and kneading the flesh there. My thighs are thicker than before but I don’t especially notice. What I do notice is that I’m very sensitive in the spot my right hand is playing with. It’s an interesting counter-point to the way my nipple feels. A localized thrum of pleasurable pressure right to my balls versus this jagged bolt from my nipple. I’m moaning and twisting my feet, rubbing my crotch while pinching and rolling my nipple. Moaning and gasping and mewling, my voice changing slightly, pitching higher. I subconsciously notice the dull pain in my throat for a moment before it goes away. My dick is throbbing with each heartbeat. I should’ve cum already but it’s taking longer and I don’t really care.
A very feminine “Haaahnnnn!” sound comes from my mouth over and over while I play with myself. I can’t… I can’t… can’t think… too much… too much pressure, too many sensations, like my brain is a live wire humming with electricity. The orgasm hits me like a sledgehammer and I have to bite my lip painfully to keep from screaming out loud. I muffle it and taste blood as I bite deeper. My hands fly out, left hand hitting the wall as I shake from the waves of pleasure. This fiery wave of pressure releasing throughout my whole body. I can feel my dick spasming but I can’t keep my eyes open. They’re fluttering as I gasp out muffled screams and my feet drum the floor.
Finally, I collapse into myself, hunched over. I can smell my cum. My brain buzzes at the remembered taste and I can feel the saliva working in my mouth, like a dog trained to drool at the ding of a bell. I want to taste it but I can’t move. I’m holding myself tight and still shaking a little from the orgasm. I grip tighter and lean into myself more but that’s a mistake – my nipples rub against my legs and then FUCK! FUCK! I scream out loud this time because I wasn’t expecting it. As a man, I cum once and I’m done for a while and there’s no screaming. A grunt, maybe? Not… not this… Jesus! I’m shaking again. Why’s it… why’s it so much? Why…? Fuck. Every nerve in my body is alive and I’m still moaning. My right leg starts jumping with a weird nervous tic and I can’t make it stop.
I focus on the leg in hopes it’ll distract me. The skin of the thigh is so smooth and I can see the outlines of muscles as it tenses and releases over and over. I want to touch the leg and trace the muscles but I know that’d be a bad idea. Why the fuck won’t it stop tapping and jumping? Oh shit. I came all over the walls. Ignoring the leg, I look around and see multiple spots of cum. Normally my cum is pretty thick and fairly opaque. This stuff… now it’s way more of a liquid and nearly transparent. Smells different in a way. Slightly different. Sharper. My mouth is watering at the smell.
Shit. I’m wriggling my ass on the toilet seat and I don’t even remember doing it. I have to go. When my leg finally calms down, I find my phone in my pants pocket and, with shaking hands, shoot off a quick email to my boss to tell him I’m leaving. It takes a little bit of time to clean the cum off the walls. With toilet paper.
Pulling my pants on is a struggle and I have to leave them unbuttoned. My ass is straining the fabric but I’ll be gone in a minute and could care less. Thankfully, I forgot to buy new underwear so they’re still sized for when I was fatter. The breasts are bigger. My breasts. I don’t know cup sizes but they’re definitely bigger than when I looked in the mirror. I want to touch them again. Badly. I really really want to play with them and touch them and hold them but I need to get the fuck out of here. The shirt is tighter when I put it back on and you can see my breasts… Jesus. MY breasts. You can see the outline of them with the shirt. The nipples press hard against the fabric. I can’t stop from moaning when I button the shirt.
Looking in the mirror, I don’t know what to make of myself. My shirt is straining against my chest. Thankfully, it comes down enough to cover the fact that the pants zipper is only half-way done up and the not buttoned.
Oh. That’s what I was noticing earlier. My face is softer. Subtly softer. And a tiny bit more narrow. My chin is a little more pointed. The nose is a little smaller. My cheekbones are higher. My eyes … I think they might be bigger? It’s hard to say right now. The blond in my hair is mixed with brown. Again, as if hypnotized, I can’t stop from touching the side of my face. It doesn’t stop there. My fingers are more slender and a little longer. Smoother. I can feel the smoothness of my cheek against the light touch of my finger. Moles are missing. My complexion is clearer. My overbite is gone. The femininity of the face looks odd with my lips – they’re still my old thin lips and it makes me look slightly severe.
It takes 30 seconds for me to get from the bathroom to my car. Thirty seconds where I hug my arms to my chest, ignoring the alien feel of my soft breasts. Thirty seconds where I talk to no-one and hide my face. My bright red face. My pants are rubbing semi-painfully against the inside of my thighs as I fast-walk. I can’t hear what anyone is saying over the loud pounding noise my heart is making.
The car feels like sanctuary. I barely hesitate before jamming the keys in and roaring off. Well, as much as my little car can roar, anyway. My dick aches the entire trip and the balls feel like they’re being crushed by the combination of the tight pants and thicker thighs. I keep shifting in my seat in hopes the pain will go away. It’s a dull ache straight from my balls to the back of my head – nearly nausea inducing.
When I try to run to my front door, I find I can’t. The pants are too tight. So I shuffle, gritting my teeth the entire time. I lock the door as soon as it’s closed and I have my pants off faster than a virgin on prom night. The relief is incredible. I can actually breathe without too much pain.
Something is off. Something… I slowly take my boxer-brief underwear off. Oh. That’s why my balls were aching. They’re gone. The area below my dick is covered in wrinkly ball-sack skin. I both want to touch it and don’t want to touch it. Afraid of what I’ll feel. It hurts. It’s that same ache I was feeling in the morning only worse. Deep inside. My dick is pathetic looking. It’s hard again but only a few inches long and barely thicker than a pencil.
“Ohhhh…” I moan. I can FEEL my breasts moving against my shirt. I fumble to unbutton the damn thing and get it off of me. My breasts are now a decent handful – the nipples point up and very slightly to the sides. They itch like hell. I’d watch them but a sharp pain near my dick jerks my eyes down. The skin where my balls used to be has… pulled in. My dick has shrunk even smaller in the seconds I looked away. The head of it is pulling into the skin around the shaft as I watch. It’s not a pleasant feeling at all. Bearable but it turns my stomach and the ache in my gut pulses painfully. There are crunching noises. Bone crunching noises.
I’m hyperventilating now. I can’t help it. I can feel a tugging sensation as skin is pulled INSIDE my crotch. Other skin is puckering up as my dick is completely pulled in above the new hole. Lips. Pussy lips. I lean back on my legs, kneeling to watch it happen. I’m watching the tail-end of it now. The head of my dick is tiny and wrapped by soft looking skin. The clit. Obviously. There’s no pubic hair down there. Smooth skin. There’s … there’s something that happens inside me and it’s this pinching/pulling/ripping thing that makes me go down to my forearms, hunching over and feeling my soft breasts against my smooth, slightly sweaty thighs. The goddamn nipples ache at the touch.
The strange pain goes away and I feel something else relax. Some muscle. A smell hits me hard. Pussy. I’m smelling my own pussy. I wriggle a little at this sudden feeling deep inside of me and I smell myself even more strongly. It’s an erotic smell and if I were a guy, I’d be ripping off clothes to get my mouth on the girl’s cunt. I lean back slowly to my knees and spread my legs. The smell intensifies and I can see how shiny my pussy lips are in the light.
I’m fucking wet.