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That holiday really stunk, no thanks to that shitty hotel. I didn't really want to come to a random town that's four decades past its prime with my family, but I had naively thought at the time that the trip would help relieve some stress. So much for that, I spent the whole trip worrying about my next exam.
On the final day of our holiday, I decided to spend some time in the hotel's pool. I used to be really into swimming when I was a kid, but I fell out of love with it when I came out as trans and started caring a lot more about how people saw my body, especially when it comes to being in a bathing suit. Really, this was a brave step forwards for me – one I had coerced myself into more than anything as I had bought the bathing suit before the trip with the express intention to use it and I didn't want it to go to waste, but a brave step nonetheless – my mother and I had coordinated the pool outing, but she woke up late that day and was too busy eating breakfast with the rest of my family to join me.
At the time, I was confident that I'd be safe while having my little pool adventure; the hotel's pool was very much separated from the hotel proper, hidden behind a maze of corridors and doors with little to no signage to guide you. I could barely find that pool myself, not to mention that it was locked when I first got there; I had to scurry back through the maze, go up to the front desk, ask the clerk to unlock the door to the pool and walk all the way back there with him just to get inside. On top of that, it was a weekday, off-season, cold, and early in the morning. The chances of someone interrupting my experiment were rather slim.
Still, my anxious little brain refused to let the possibility of being found escape my mind. I had brought a pair of swimming trunks with me for the purpose of shielding the lower half of my body, not confident enough in my ability to tuck to risk someone seeing the bulge in my one-piece bathing suit. I was only two years into my HRT regimen at the time, with tiny little budding boobs to match, so my hope was that they would compensate for my garishly large height and square frame if someone ended up seeing me.
I was relaxing in the pool, swimming back and forth in an imaginary lane. As expected, I had the whole place to myself, for the time being at least, so I was relatively relaxed. The pool itself wasn't anything glamorous, of course – indoor hotel pools rarely are – small and shallow, with the bottom of the pool being bizarrely bumpy. At the very least, it was clean, but that might as well be the bare minimum for any pool.
The room itself inspired nothing but paranoia for someone as anxious as me. Looming over the pool was a large glass deck bulging out of the game room, through which anybody could peer into the pool. Next to that was a long catwalk, which led to the attached hotel's gym – an infinitely more popular destination than the pool – with its own big windows to boot. Finally, the cherry on top of this manic urinal cake of a room was its western wall, which was made entirely out of opaque blueish-green glass, through which the morning sun cast the entire room in a fuzzy white haze.
It took a while for all those years of muscle memory to kick back in. They were calibrated for a body at least a foot and a half shorter than my current one, rusty after almost eight years of disuse, so I spent the first ten minutes floundering around in the shallow end, getting my bearings again. By the time I had, though, I'd grown rather tired of the pool; the one I had grown up using was over three times the size of this one, so it was starting to feel really cramped.
Reluctant to actually leave the pool, I instead resorted to simply hanging out around its shallow bank, hoping that my boredom would soon leave me and let me swim again. I'm unsure if that actually would have happened though, since I was soon interrupted by a lady exiting out of the women's changing rooms.
The girl I saw was no older than I was, sporting wavy blonde hair and a soft face. She was dressed in a pink bathing suit, another one-piece like mine, which highlighted a pair of sizeable breasts that lay beneath it. For a moment, I thought she was just another woman and quickly hurried my gaze away from her to try and maintain discretion, but, as I looked her over some more, I began to notice certain quirks about her. She was rather tall, with a square jaw and broad shoulders, dips in her otherwise wide hips flanked by these long, gaunt arms that looked really out of place next to the mild chub on her torso. None of these, on their own, would elicit any suspicion from the average observer, likely regarding them as nothing more than a few insignificant quirks. But, as someone who has all those same quirks, I soon recognised them for what they were. At the same time, that woman had also been assessing my own form, clearly coming to the same conclusion as I had: “this woman in front of me is a trans girl like me”.
I could almost see the slight tension in her stance leak away once she realised what I was, relieved to have met one of her own in such a vulnerable environment; I felt the exact same thing happen to me in that moment too, perhaps even more so than it did for her. She soon entered the pool, immediately approaching me, standing just a short distance away. To my annoyance, I was still a fair bit taller than her, though not by much.
“Heya~” she sang in a light, airy tone, wearing a charming smile on her rosy face. “Sorry if this is a little presumptuous, but…” She bent her body forwards, leaning into my personal space as her dark green eyes surveyed my face. “You’re trans, right?”
I almost managed to answer her, but she somehow heard my words before they had even left my mouth, continuing the conversation in this cute British accent – different from my own, but only slightly.
“Me too. It’s nice to see another person like me for once.” She leant back against the fool's edge, staring right into my eyes, her own half-lidded. Her voice sounded feminine enough, only occasionally running flat if her sentences went on for too long. “So, how long have you been on HRT?”
I was rather surprised she could tell. Perhaps it was because of my own self-deprecating thoughts, but I didn't think that my changes were very visible, especially with the water obscuring the lower half of my body. That's probably because of how small my boobs are though. In hindsight, she probably figured it out in a way that didn't involve looking at my chest.
“Two years,” I responded, trying my best to put on a more feminine voice. My lack of voice training was certainly apparent, though I couldn't tell if she found that amusing as her smile never left her face.
“I'm just over three myself,” she returned rather flippantly, acting as though it were no big deal. Her results were far better than mine… I was astounded. Could just one year really make such a drastic difference in results? Then again, she could've just gotten lucky… “Anyway, my name's Caroline – like the lady from Portal 2.”
My eyes almost flew right out of my head when she said that. If I had a drink, I would've done a spit-take. “Portal 2?!” I embarrassingly ended up saying out loud, prompting her to laugh at my outburst.
“Yeah. I was really into Source games as a kid. I tried going as ‘Alex’ for a while, but it never stuck.”
When I heard that, I bit my lip. Caroline sounded really similar to me in so many ways. Ever since I started transitioning, I've spent my life in abject loneliness. All the trauma, all the pain and misery I'd endured as a boy made me fragile; it was like I was standing at the top of a tower, admiring the view from its observation deck, but blissfully unaware that I was standing on its brittle glass floor. When I figured out the explanation for everything – that I'm trans, that I'm autistic, that I'm anxious and depressed and nowhere near mentally equipped to handle anything – the glass floor broke and I fell all the way back down to the Earth. I stopped being able to function, plagued with frequent panic attacks over things any normal person could do perfectly fine. I feel pathetic… So useless and dysfunctional, an anomaly among even my own trans sisters.
I've never been good at making friends; being trans didn't change that – if anything, it made it even harder. The isolation and grief ate away at me, turning me bitter, cynical and pessimistic, which certainly didn't help things. When I started HRT, I hoped that it would make me more approachable, that I wouldn't have to be the one to initiate conversations – using my hormones as social leverage – but that, of course, still didn't work out for me.
By then, I'd gotten so used to being alone that the idea of another trans girl coming up to talk to me at all had me stunned, let alone one so similar to me. If I were in her shoes, I could never do something like that… so how could she?
“What about your name?” she asks. I felt tense under her unbreakable gaze, like a thousand tons of pressure had been placed in my skull. I wanted to shy away, but this was the opportunity I had always been begging for – I wasn't about to pass this up.
With a little trepidation, I answered her: “Lucy.”
The name I had given her seemed to greatly intrigue her, as an excited expression soon appeared on her face. She leaned against the edge of the pool, exaggeratedly stroking her chin.
“Hmm… From your general demeanour, I'm gonna assume that you and I might be in the same online circles as each other. So, tell me…” She walked closer and closer to me until our bodies were almost pressed together, just an inch or two apart. Her eyes never broke away from mine, still half-lidded, voice running low and smooth. “Does the name 'psb.lucy' mean anything to you?”
The entire world froze in that instant. The water below me suddenly felt bottomless, like I wasn't standing in a pool but, rather, floating above an endless abyss. Caroline could read my shock plainly, drinking in every second of it with delicious delight. Her eyes finally left my face, roaming over the rest of my body, but she never stopped smiling. I couldn’t tell whether she was keeping me out of that abyss or trying to drag me into it.
How could she have known that? Of all things, she accurately guessed that my name came from a semi-obscure horror web series on a whim? It felt impossible, downright miraculous. My doubts about this woman were stretched until they began to buckle. How could this woman even be real??
I couldn't help myself from saying it out loud: “How… how do you know that?”
Despite the fact that she likely already knew that she was right about my name, my little question ended up cementing her suspicions into verifiable fact. She triumphantly pumped her fist under the water, splashing some of it onto both of our bodies. “Yes!” She chuckled to herself for a moment. “It was just an educated guess, that’s all. Though I can certainly say that you have good taste, both in your interests…” Then, she gradually reached out with one of her hands, setting the pad of her index finger on the bottom of my neck. “…and your choice in swimwear.”
I couldn’t move, frozen under her touch. Just a single finger, yet it felt like she had shattered a boundary I never knew existed before now. She might as well have had her entire hand around my throat from how breathless it made me feel. It was then that I knew for certain that this woman was intent on dragging me down into that abyss. But her attack wasn’t oppressive. With how slow she had been, I realised that she was deliberately giving me time to shoot her down if I wasn’t comfortable with it; that remained true for every other advance she made that morning. The abyss became something entirely new and unknown, not necessarily dangerous, but still daunting all the same.
“Still… it’s a shame these trunks are in the way. I’m sure you’d look much better without them.”
That single finger began to trail downwards, between my boobs and across my tummy, until it reached the waistband on my trunks. She kept looking at me as it travelled, never breaking eye contact until the moment her finger reached its destination. Once it had, she paused there for at least ten whole seconds, waiting for me to stop her.
I don't know why I didn't stop her. I don't know what came over me, but I let her keep going. A single nod was all it took for her to begin pulling them off of my legs. What was this woman doing to me? Why didn't I want her to stop? Why was I holding my breath, heart beating faster than it ever had before, watching this girl peel my swimming trunks away, saying nothing?
The trunks broke free from my waist, slipping down my legs and floating just above my knees. Caroline knelt down, helping them get the rest of the way there, until they're free from my body entirely. She flinged them out of the pool, landing with a wet slap a short distance away from us.
“There we go. Doesn't that feel so much better?”
All I felt in that moment was a paralysing embarrassment. I was downright naked, with my thighs and butt exposed, but I was especially concerned about the bulge in my swimsuit; I hadn't bothered to tuck beforehand, partially because I already struggle with doing so but mostly because I was supposed to be wearing swimming trunks over it, swimming trunks that were now six feet away from the pool.
That's why I was a little relieved when Caroline backed away from me, though I couldn't tell whether it was to give me space or to admire my body some more. I don't handle pressure very well, and this woman felt like pressure incarnate (among other things).
“So,” she starts, leaning against the side of the pool again, “what kind of stuff are you into?”
Quite the vague statement, but I bit the bait nonetheless. “Uh… I write… as a hobby.”
Despite the abject awkwardness with which I had delivered my answer, Caroline still took great interest in it. “Ooh, a writer huh? You definitely look like one.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I said, confused beyond belief.
“It means you've got this gloomy and composed aura to you that I find adorable.”
If there was anything Caroline was good at doing, it was flustering me. Somehow, that woman always knew what to say to make me red in the face. Never in my life have I had someone talk to me the way she did, lathering me in the tastiest of verbal butter the likes of which I have never tasted before. Each word out of those plump cherry lips, delivered in that smooth and creamy tone that just tickled my ears, served to lull me deeper and deeper into her thrall. And, whether by my own lack of a spine or some supernatural whim, I never thought or wanted to resist her throughout the entire process.
We continued like that for a while; fifteen minutes of idle chatter about anything I wanted to. She'd ask me about anything: INTERLOPER, what I like to write about, why I was here and who I was with; each topic prompted by her, designed to extract every little thing she wanted to know out of my brain. And, somehow, it all made me forget about how naked I was under that thin veil of chlorine-scented water! At any time during our conversation, someone could have seen me at my most vulnerable, either by walking into the pool, looking at us through the game room's observation deck or just from glancing over the catwalk that ran above the pool, but Caroline's conversations had kept me completely distracted.
Then, after I'd just finished ranting about my strong opinions on a video game series nobody honestly cares about except for me, Caroline suddenly reached out and planted her hand on my bare shoulder. It was in that moment that the barrier of blissful ignorance she had built up over the last half an hour of conversation shattered like sugar glass. The water around me felt so cold and hostile, yet the warmth of her hand was so inviting.
“God, you're so cute.” She pushes forwards, a bubble of desirable warmth encroaching upon the cold around me. Her chest finally touched my own, her decently-sized breasts squished against my smaller ones. I wanted to say something, I wanted to question why she thought I, of all people, would be worthy of her praise, but I couldn't get the words out before she followed it up with another question. “Have you ever kissed another girl before?”
I could barely breathe. What was I supposed to say to that? I wanted to question why she was asking me that question, but I already knew where she was going with this. Still, I'm honest to a fault, especially under pressure, so I buckled relatively quickly.
“N-no…” My answer didn't tell her the full story, not that I think she would've cared; I had dated someone before, another woman, but that was before I transitioned and our relationship never got very far. Despite everything, I was a virgin. Intimacy is not my expertise, even though I write about it a fair bit, but I've always yearned to feel it.
Caroline pulled in closer, slithering her arm around my neck and placing her hand in the wet cobweb of hair on the back of my head. With so little air between us, I could feel the warmth of her breath tickling the skin on my chest. I caught a glimpse of her mouth as she opened it to speak, but no words came out. Instead, her bottom lip slips under her teeth, and she releases a pleased hum.
“Wanna kiss me?” Is what she eventually asked me, and god did I want it… Deep in my heart, I've yearned for someone to ask me that question for years now, but I've never had the ability to ask for it myself. Who was this woman to come into my life, so similar to me, asking me that question like it was no big deal? I could never do something like that, weighed down by all the misery of simply existing as I am, so how could she?
She waited for as long as I needed, knowing she couldn't rush this, but she spent that time looking over my body. I could see her eyes flick between my features, drinking it all in. Did she find me cute…? Me? It was hard to believe, but it felt so validating to me, especially coming from someone who passed far better than me; the affectionate eye of somebody so feminine, seeing me for more than my flaws.
“P-please…” Utterly pathetic, I folded to her musings in no time flat. She clearly looked excited to hear me agree to her proposition, because she immediately started moving things forwards. Her hands snaked around my body, pushing us together. Our swimsuits connected, the nylon fabrics rubbing together when our boobs are pressed flush into one another.
So warm… Her body was so warm… I can remember that moment with vivid clarity, how my dick was so hard it was straining against my swimsuit, and how I could feel her dick too, pressing against mine. Desperate to reciprocate her affection, I hugged her too. So soft, her flesh so pillowy and squishy, like hugging a giant plushie. An addiction formed instantly, one I'm still feeling the withdrawals from to this day.
Her bottom lip brushed against mine, plump cerise flesh wet with her spit. I let her lead me into the kiss.
Our lips locked together. Caroline started it gently, pushing our lips against one another while caressing my body with her delicate hands. The few inches of difference in our height felt meaningless in that moment, with her bending me backwards so she could dominate over me.
Then she delves deeper, tongue penetrating my lips and diving into my mouth. For a brief second, I was ashamed; my mouth, so dirty and unclean, could never be deserving of the divine attention Caroline was giving to me. And yet, when she started moaning, moaning, right into my mouth, all pleased and cheerful, my worries melted away.
I followed her lead as she silently commanded, using my own tongue to do battle with hers. The taste of her spit was, somehow, as sweet as the finest dessert, a flavour that soon spread to my own as I drank it in. All the while, she kept up her embrace, kept our chests pressed together, grabbing a handful of my exposed ass and squeezing it.
She breaks the kiss, panting like a dog. “Damn… You have a fat ass, Lucy,” she comments. It was the highest compliment I had ever received. The sound of my name on her tongue felt so right, said so smoothly, like she was doting a cute little puppy.
She kissed me again, harder, her ministrations rougher and more affectionate. It wasn't long before I found myself moaning in tandem with her, right into her mouth.
Her own attention inspired me to, almost unconsciously, return the favour to her. I placed my hand on the side of one of her boobs, squishing the soft flesh through her swimsuit. She responded to that well, arching her back and giggling to herself. The kiss broke again, but we were now stuck in a trance of groping and fondling each other's bodies. I don't know what came over me… How could I do this in a public pool? So shamelessly groping another woman's boobs, grinding against her leg like a horny dog.
I leant in for a third kiss, but Caroline stopped me, pushing my face back with a single finger that she planted onto my offending lips. She stepped away, drifting backwards through the pool and into the pool ladder before resting against its rungs.
“I think it's obvious at this point,” she started, “but I'm into you. And I think it'd be a real shame if we stopped this here…”
She climbed out of the pool, her swimsuit dripping with water, clinging to her curvaceous frame. She poised herself before the open exit door, fluorescent lights shining through the gateway to cast a blinding halo behind her. Her arms raised up high, as if to offer me another, deeper embrace, as she gave me her most tempting offer:
“Do you wanna take this further~?”
I couldn't help my flabbergasted stare. I knew what she meant by that; after what we just did, we were a hair away from fucking each other in that pool. This was her formal invitation to a party I couldn't dream of missing.
I can't lie: the idea of accepting her proposal made me feel so dirty. Was I really that desperate? Me, so touch-starved and needy, getting pried open and exposed so easily by this goddess of a woman. She barely even felt human with how easily she could do all of this. But, standing before her then, I craved her more than water – although, that was probably down to the fact that I was just in a pool.
I climbed out after her, chasing her into the stairwell and clinging onto her bathing suit like a lost toddler. The stairs were a crossroads: ascending meant returning to the hotel proper, where my family were busy polishing off their hotel breakfast; downstairs were the changing rooms. Like it or not, we both had to go in there anyway to change out our swimsuits. So we descended, me behind her, down into the maw of the abyss, leaving my swimming trunks behind (whoops).
We entered the women's changing rooms together, which we had both used previously to change into these costumes. I was rather hesitant to use these facilities in the first place; this country is far from accepting of people like me, pissing and moaning about how much of a danger we are to the “real” women. While I find such notions ridiculous, I lack the spine to face such a confrontation with a cool and level head, so I was highly anxious while using those changing rooms. Still, getting yelled at is less risky than the possibility of getting raped, and this hotel had no unisex disabled changing rooms like my local swimming baths has, so I elected to use the women's room anyway. Caroline, meanwhile, showed no fear or hesitation about using these facilities. Was she really so confident in her ability to pass that she didn't feel any anxiety being in there? Probably. If anything, she belonged there far more than I did…
“Oh, I forgot to ask. How old are you?” Caroline asked me, circling me like a shark.
“I'm twenty two…” I responded.
“Good, good. I'm twenty three.”
So close in age to me too… Her results felt a little more achievable. We'd have to have started HRT around the same age, so maybe I could look like her in a year's time. That, or she was on a high dose since the beginning and developed everything sooner; I curse my endocrinologist and her stupid dosing fluctuations…
I headed for the wall of lockers immediately, retrieving the rubber-bound key from my ankle to unlock it and retrieve my belongings, but Caroline quickly interrupted me from behind, pushing her body flush against mine. At this point, I still hadn't verbally accepted her offer, so her affectionate embrace came as quite the shock to me. Still… I didn't push her away.
“W-we could take this back to my room,” I proposed. Taking initiative felt… strange. It's something I rarely ever did before that day. It was a lot easier to always let others decide what to do for me, even when they really shouldn't.
“Actually… I was thinking we should just do it here,” Caroline raises, whispering into my ear. The idea was a bullet to my sensible heart. Here? In the changing rooms? It transcended the risk of being caught without my trunks on in the pool, it transcended our make-out session from before… If someone caught us, the consequences would be huge! The sheer, absolute risk was just so…
Tantalising.
I couldn't argue with her. My mind screamed at me to reject the fallen angel's debaucherous temptations, but it had long since forfeited the wheel. So I turned around, fixing the key back around my ankle again, and I let her push me into another deep kiss as we danced towards one of the many empty stalls. Besides, the pool had been empty all morning, what were the chances that someone would come in and interrupt us?
Caroline took me into the room's disabled cubicle, a larger unit compared to the other stalls, with a larger bench to boot. She pushed me onto that bench, then pressed her finger onto my lips once again – her signal for me to stay put. She left the cubicle, returning soon after with a little handbag. She set it down on the edge of the bench, then immediately descended upon me, laying herself on top of me. We made out again, sloppier, pressed together by gravity.
I could feel the hardness of Caroline's dick pressing against my gut. She started to grind it against me, swimsuits still on, wet hair draping against my face. Nylon on nylon, scratching and scratching with each hump; so maddeningly warm. The smell of chlorine permeated the cubicle completely, chemically searing itself into my brain so I could never forget this moment. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I've now found myself becoming aroused whenever I pass by my local swimming baths, the scent making me recall every detail of my time with Caroline.
Caroline reached up, peeling away the swimsuit off of her body like the skin of an orange. It lands on the tiled floor with a wet slap. She had revealed herself wholly to me, her magnificent figure cast under the fluorescent spotlight for my eyes to dine on. The succulent pair breasts on offer were one thing, but the sheer beauty of her cock was what surprised me the most. I never thought that an organ that has caused me so much pain and misery could look so appealing, throbbing beautifully as a testament to her arousal towards me.
And yet, somehow, her dick was still bigger than mine! How? She's been on HRT for longer than me, yet her cock is an easy six inches, dwarfing my own pathetic member. I wasn't even that upset about it – I like that my dick is small, considering that I don't even want it in the first place – I just couldn't and still can't understand how this could be…
Caroline soon instructed me to remove my swimsuit too, which I hesitantly complied with. Even with all the butter she'd spread on me, I was hesitant to reveal my full form to her, but I was too far gone to back down. She took in my naked form with an uncomfortable amount of reverence. Next to her, an icon of lust and femininity, my tiny breasts and bony body looked like a mockery to everything she stood for. It made me want to cry – and, honestly, still does – I got unlucky, thus I am doomed to forever look like a freak. I pray every night that I could somehow become as beautiful as her, but I doubt that wish will ever come true.
Any yet, Caroline judged my form with love, not mockery. She descended upon me, lavishing my A-Cups as though they were equal to her own Cs. Fondling and squeezing them, the attention felt so sharp and warm. She reached over to tweak one of my nipples, but the sensitivity made me yell out in mild pain.
She immediately retreated, asking if I was okay, to which I reassured her that I was. The peaks of my growing buds would often become painfully tender, much to my chagrin. And yet, Caroline wouldn't let up. Instead of her hands, my breast was introduced to the gentle warmth of her mouth. I could barely register what she was doing before she began to suckle, feeding on me like a hungry baby. And it all felt so good; the psychological euphoria helped push past the mild sensitivity, bolstered with every lick of my nipple while her hand was busy fondling my free breast.
But my boobs weren't my only concern. Between my legs, my dick had remained painfully stiff, aching and twitching with a desperate need, and now it was on display to this glorious woman. My own freakish biology was something I wish I could ignore, yet I'd spent every night touching it just to maintain the ability to keep an erection. I'm glad I could even get hard that day; Caroline sure was glad too.
It wasn't long before we were back on the bench again, Caroline laying on top of me. “Lucy~ Lucy~ Lucy~” she cooed, tickling my ears with every repeated use of my name, said with undying affection. She took my dick into her hand, pumping up and down in gentle strokes. “You've got such a cute little cock~” She leaned over me, the heat of her busty body smothering me completely, kissing me deeply as she stroked my cock. It twitched in her hand, my back arching; it's too much for me to handle, but she was just getting started.
The tip of my dick was weeping, leaking out a slick fluid, closer in likeness to a woman's slick excretions than precum – or so I hope. Caroline ran her thumb through my juices, smearing it all over my cock to lubricate it some more. She used that to go even harder, pumping and stroking me faster, scrambling my head to an unprecedented degree. At some point – I can't for the life of me remember how much time had passed – she slowed down to give me some time to breathe. But, as I was catching my breath, I watched her wipe up some more of my slick with her hand, collecting it on my thumb. She brought that hand up to her face, displaying to me how it stuck to her fingertips, stringy and sticky.
“Look at how wet you are for me… I'm honoured,” she whispered. It made my breath hitch; to be treated like nothing short of a woman by such a divine girl… I could barely process how it made me feel. Her face lit up with a great smirk, like my reaction had fed her a hundred gigabytes of useful data on me, so she moved to double down. She dips her finger and her thumb into her mouth, making a show out of lapping up my nectar with her tongue. I felt breathless, watching her in awe. “You're so delicious, babe… Makes me want to eat you.”
She pulled back, staring down at my dick with a hungry look in her eyes. Her tongue circled her lips like a starving shark. As she began to lower herself down towards my cock, I realised what she was doing and was immediately paralysed by anxiety. The anxiety didn't last long though; she guided my cock into the wet warmth of her mouth, lips locking around the base as her tongue got to work. It felt nothing like I thought it would, her mouth so tender and attentive, gently caressing the head of my cock with her rough tongue. Shamefully, I ended up bucking into her mouth, almost making her gag.
It didn't last long after that, with Caroline retreating from my dick. I was about to apologise, certain that my disgusting impulses had hurt or disturbed her, but she readily answered my concerns before I could even voice them:
“Sorry… I'm still not used to eating girls out like that.” She laughed to herself, voice airy and light; just absolutely mesmerising. “You tasted just as good as I thought you would…” She angled herself back, spreading her legs open to make sure I had a good look at her throbbing cock. “See what you've done to me? You're too beautiful for your own good.” She climbed over me, lining our dicks up so that they stood tall beside one another, frenulum-to-frenulum. “Let's feel good together, yeah?”
She started to hump me. She was humping me, grinding her massive cock against mine and moaning in ecstasy, so I was compelled to match her pace. “Entranced” doesn't even begin to cover how I was feeling. I was caught on every little sensation as our cocks rubbed together, the friction sending bolts of pleasure up into my head. And the angle… a sweet, sweet angle that felt so divine. But my pleasure was backlit by a haze of fear – we were being so loud, moaning freely and openly – anybody could've walked in and heard the sounds of our breathy moans or the squeaking of the cubicle bench under our combined weight, and then what might happen to us?
Caroline was intent on making sure I couldn't think about that. After enough humping, both of our movements had become unfocused and sloppy. Covered in each other's juices and sweat, twitching against each other, I could tell I wasn't going to last long. The few times I became aware of the noises slipping from my mouth, I was enamoured by how feminine I sounded. That level of euphoria was something I could never match before that day and have failed to match since.
“Caroline… Caroline…” I pathetically moaned her name, my dick pushing up into the warm fat of her belly. “I'm… I'm gonna… I'm gonna cum…” Admitting that just made her double her efforts. I could tell she was getting close too, desperately humping my belly, but she still kept some composure. Meanwhile, I was a whimpering mess.
“Yeah? Do it…” Her voice had somehow gotten even more breathy, eyes entirely focused on me. I could almost feel the blood rushing through her warm body. “Fuck~! Show it to me… Let me see you cum.”
My body obeyed her every command, seizing up into the most powerful orgasm of my whole life. Every part of me twitched and spasmed; I had to resist the urge to scream from the sheer pleasure of it all, knowing that my cries would undoubtedly be heard.
“Holy shit, Lucy! Y-You're gonna make me–” Caroline climaxed not long after me. Her head reeled back, her wet blonde hair spraying the wall tiles with a splatter or pool water. That wasn't the only thing she splattered though; her dick pulsed, shooting out a few ropes of runny t.girl cum onto my stomach. Not only did she look better than me, not only did she have a bigger dick than me, but she could still ejaculate too? Granted, it wasn't as thick or as potent as a man's cum would be, but that was all part of the allure.
After the two of us bathed in the afterglow of our orgasms, Caroline slipped her way off of my body, leaving me laid out on the bench; I was surprised that the bench hadn't broken from all the weight we put on it – impressive, since it was just a piece of wood and plastic bolted to a tiled wall.
I took the time to admire the cum on my stomach, her gift to me; proof she found me as cute as she claimed. Meanwhile, Caroline was rooting through her bag, pulling out some assorted junk and spare clothes. Eventually, she took out a small blue bottle, bringing that over to the bench.
“You've got such a nice body, Lucy,” Caroline started again, stroking my cheek with her delicate fingers. “So soft, so fuckable…”
With her other hand, she showed me what she had taken out of her bag: a bottle of lube, clearly well used. Had she done this with other girls too? She'd said earlier that she wasn't used to oral, so maybe not. But, then, why would she carry a bottle of lube in her handbag? Neither answer could be a perfect explanation. This girl was an utter enigma in so many ways; a riddle I'm too stupid to solve, but desperately want to more than anything else.
“I can tell you aren't satisfied yet, my sweet Lucy.” She put that familiar old pressure back on my body, draping her tits over my own and letting me get an eyeful of her gorgeous face. Like she had said, I was still hard; as was she. A cocktail of feral hormones swirling in our brains. We both chose to drink that cocktail, and now we want seconds. “Want me to fuck you?”
Her hand on the side of my ass, eyes boring holes into my soul. There was no doubt in my mind. I wanted this woman to rail me. I wanted her to squirt her sticky girl cum so deep inside if me that I'd briefly think she might get me pregnant.
It was then that I realised how deeply I had fallen for Caroline. She had wormed her way into my brain, contaminating all my thoughts until I couldn't think about anything but her. This thought contagion has remained to this day; I want her, I need her.
So, of course, I begged her for it. I crawled across that bench, gripping her arms and moaning her name. “Please Caroline,” I whined to her, “p-please fuck me… I need you to… p-please…”
Caroline grinned ear to ear, ecstatic at my pitiful, needy enthusiasm. No doubt she had orchestrated this from the moment she first saw me, all for this. Was her love even genuine? I didn't want to think about that; I don't think it even mattered to me.
She guided me into a hunched sitting position, my ass curled towards her body, stiff cock standing tall at the peak of my arch. She kissed me, pressing her dick between the cheeks of my ass and humping me again. That familiar feeling of her cock grinding against my flesh lit a fire inside of my nerves. It appeased the hormones in my brain for just a moment, but I begged to be filled.
Her cock retreated, soon replaced by the sight of a pair of her fingers, drizzled in silicone honey. She makes a show out of smearing the lube all over my ass, making sure I can see every tasteful second of it.
“I'm gonna ease you up first, Lucy.” Caroline had figured out my weakness for my own name, tacking it on the end of almost everything because she must've liked the way I shuddered when it left her lips. “Relax for me, baby…”
Her middle finger pressed against the rim of my asshole, and then it was inside of me. I'd never had something inside my body like that, except for a pen I owned back when I was first riding the high of newfound femininity so many years ago. It was overwhelming, overstimulating, but in every way that could tickle my girly little brain. She pushed it in further, further, further; more and more pressure put on my body. The finger curled, becoming a fish hook massaging the deepest part of me.
Then the second finger came in, her index this time – shorter than the first, but not by any distance that mattered to me. I had to gasp for air, fighting to keep myself from screaming for her as she dragged me through the riptide. Her fingers were rooting through my guts, pushing something around inside of me, forcing it out of the way for something bigger that was yet to come. And all the while, she kept feeding me those lovely words.
“You're doing so well, Lucy.” I love her. “Just like that…” I need her. “Good girl~” Verbal crack shooting through my veins, hooked on every word.
I could've cum right there – I almost did – but then her fingers weren't in me anymore. It had felt like an eternity; I'd forgotten what the emptiness of my guts was supposed to feel like. I wanted it filled. I grasped for her arms, but they slipped out of reach. Instead, all I was given was her cock, lathered in that same old honey.
“It's your first time,” she stated, like she already knew it as fact. I suppose it was rather obvious, given my inexperience with everything. She might've been able to tell I was a virgin before she even asked me into this cubicle at all. But, then again, she already knew everything about me. Every little detail was known before I even thought to voice them. This was a taunt, another piece to the performance we were both dancing, all for me. All for me. “There's nothing to fear. You're all loose; I made sure of that. Just lie back and focus on me…”
She presses our lips together to make the next part easier. I could feel her cock prodding at my entrance, waiting for the right time to plunge into my body. It felt like waiting on the examination table with a clinician looming over you, needle and a tube in hand, and you're waiting for when they finally stab down and start to drain out your blood. Only, unlike a blood test, I was actually looking forward to when Caroline would finally take me.
Her entry was slow. The tight press of my hole gave way to this encroaching fullness as her cock pushed its way through me. Despite the preparation and lubrication beforehand, the intrusion still hurt. With her sheer girth and length, it felt like the organs in the lower half of my body were being pushed aside just to make room for her. But I welcomed the pain because it brought an intense euphoria with it. Beyond the physical pain and pleasure, it felt like a carnal need deep within my soul had finally been scratched. Debased yet loved, embraced in her love and sweat and lube, accepted as nothing short of who I really am.
She started off slow, gentle, unwilling to hurt me. I would moan-cry in pain, but tell her I didn't want her to pull out. The feeling of emptiness was a freshly opened wound, revealed to me after she had fingered me earlier; I couldn't handle being without her for even a moment, not in the state I was in. She reassured me with more kind words, leaning forwards to pepper my neck with soft, doting kisses. Each lean pushed her dick in as deep as it could go, just shy of fully hilting her.
She kept at that pace for a while, letting me adjust to the feeling of having her inside be, but pulling away before it could truly set in. Then it plunged back in again, stretching me out deliciously, so I screamed into her mouth as a way of manically thanking her. The cycle repeats. I can hear the wet squelching of the lube being pushed against my ass, a quiet slap each time Caroline's hips meet my supposedly plump ass.
“How're you holding up, babe?” she asked me. Surely she should already have known my answer beforehand? She just wanted to hear me say it…
“Y-you feel… s-so good… Caroline…” It's hard to speak coherently with a dick in your ass. “So big… I love you… I l-love you Caroline, I love you…” I was trying to praise her like she had praised me, but I got a little lost along the way. Even still, my efforts were rewarded, as this was when Caroline started to speed up her thrusts, now well and truly fucking me.
“God, Lucy… I love you too, babe; you and your tight ass… fuck…”
It felt wrong for someone as low as me to be getting a reaction out of someone as high as her. I rode the high of Caroline's hopefully genuine praise, clenching down on her cock for her. That got the best moan out of her perfect voice, done right into my ear.
Now that all the pain was gone, I could feel her perfectly. Every twitch of her thick length reverberated through the rest of my body as she pounded me into that bench, creaking at every thrust. My bare back slapped against the wall, only audible to me as the far louder wet slap of her hips rhythmically replaced it at every interval. She pulled me closer, refusing to leave me completely, in love with the depths of my body. Her wet hair draped over my face, tangling with my own, giving me another deep whiff of that delectable chlorine smell.
Moaning, moaning, screaming, praising. I was on fire, seared by her holy light – thick, hard cock – pressing into my repulsive heart. Had I already came? Probably. The feelings of pleasure were indistinguishable from the heights of climaxing, or perhaps clouded by the euphoria of tangling with Caroline. But there could always be more.
“Lucy… I'm close~” she whispers into my ear, meant to excite me, but tainted with genuine, raw lust; that only made me want her more. “Want me to finish inside you?”
Could I ever say no to her?
“Yeah! Yeah, cum inside me!” Said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “F-fill me up, Caroline~!” Things I've only said in my wildest, most perverted dreams, finally actualised by Caroline's grace (dick).
She gave me everything I asked for. Her girly, impotent seed flooded through my depths, staining my hole with her best shade of white. I took it like the good girl she said I was, letting myself climax alongside her to further squeeze out all her honey.
We were left as a pair of panting messes. For a brief moment, Caroline looked almost as human as me; her sweat highlighted all the imperfections on her masculine figure, my first impression of her revealed to me in full. The feeling didn't last. My attention was ripped away by the feeling of Caroline pulling out of me, unplugging the dam and allowing a steady stream of her cum to leave my body. Absolutely mesmerising…
Shortly after, the sensitivity kicked in. Every inch of me stung, ached, buzzed; I couldn't hear my own thoughts, I wanted to vomit. My only theory is that this was some kind of divine whiplash. My sinful, rotten corpse of a body could not handle what she had to offer, and now I was reeling – or I was just an inexperienced virgin, which I was.
By the time I'd recovered, Caroline was gone. The cubicle was empty, stained in our bodily fluids. But she'd left behind one final gift: a pink sticky note attached to the cubicle door.
To Lucy:
Let's make this last ~★
Discord — be_my_vance_partner
– Caroline
I held the note close to my heart, cherishing it. The stains on my body smudged its ink, but it was all still legible.
With Caroline gone, I was left in the cubicle with nothing but my body, my swimsuit, the key around my ankle and that note. My belongings were still in the locker on the other end of the changing room. It would've been a simple matter of slipping back into that bathing suit, washing all the compromising fluids off in a shower and putting my clothes back on. Only, as soon as I reached for the door, I heard the entryway to the changing rooms swing open, slamming against the wall.
For a second, I thought Caroline might have returned to help me back to my room – how kind of her – but it was so, so much worse. I could hear the voice of a middle-aged woman talking to somebody else she had brought with her, who I soon found out was her very young daughter. I was filled to the brim with two parts of dread. Both were a risk. For one, I've dealt with enough middle-aged women of her type to know that, if she saw me, she'd drag me into a never-ending screaming match of transphobia and TERFism that I was in no state to deal with. The little girl only compounded that issue: I did NOT want to be committed for some sort of sex crime. I don't think it's illegal for me to be in the same changing room as a little girl while I'm fully clothed and wearing a swimsuit, but with her mother around? Who knows what could happen…
In hindsight, it was all a little presumptuous of me. The lady could've been nice or understanding and not a horrible TERF intent on getting me locked away, but I was coming out of the most life-shattering moment of my life and was not mentally prepared to risk defusing any kind of situation.
It took some strategy, but I eventually managed to sneak over to the lockers and retrieve my clothes. I chose to forgo the shower, returning to the cubicle and changing back into my clothes. That meant putting those clothes over my sweaty, unwashed, cum-soaked body… ew…
I managed to escape the changing rooms un-hate crimed, briefly dipping back into the pool room to retrieve my swimming trunks – like a moron, I'd forgotten to take them with me back when Caroline first dragged me into the changing rooms. And that was when I discovered the seven missed calls on my phone.
My little date with Caroline had run me long past the deadline for leaving the pool and my parents were pissed. But, more importantly, that meant I had to rush back up to my hotel room, pack all my belongings away, forsake the shower a second time and return to my family so we could leave this wretched seaside town behind.
I didn't really enjoy the scolding I got when I met them back at the car… A twenty two year old woman being yelled at by her mother… How embarrassing. I'm sure anyone passing by must have stared.
The return trip home was the most tense moment of my life, and not because my parents were still a little mad at me. Anxiety was busy using my punching bag like a stomach, and for good reason. I stank, obviously so… Still covered in Caroline's sacred cum, its saintly smell was all that filled my nose. I could feel the sticky stains on my clothes, made even worse by the almost permanent hard-on I maintained through that entire car ride. I was just waiting for somebody, anybody to point out how I smelled… and then what would've happened to me.
So I sat perfectly still for an endless three hours, sitting behind my father, sitting across from my mother, sitting next to my brother, waiting for the bomb to drop. Who would notice it first? Had they noticed it already? Who would point it out? Every word exchanged by my mother and father felt like a thunderclap, only for no lightning to follow as the conversation turned out to be completely casual.
But nothing happened. We returned home like everything was perfectly fine. Everyone filed back into the house, and I acted like everything was normal. I lingered around in our kitchen, waiting for an uncomfortable one-on-one conversation with my mother or father, but the only thing they asked of me was “Did you have fun?” I told them I did. And then I went upstairs… scrambled into my bedroom… locked the door behind me…
…and then I masturbated over everything that had happened that morning.
That was all a month ago.
For everybody else, it was business as usual, but not for me. For a while, I was afraid that the hotel might figure out what me and Caroline had done, but I have yet to receive any strongly worded letter about a cum-stained cubicle, so I think I'm in the clear. But, more importantly…
I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. Every time I close my eyes at night, I can see her silhouette looming over me, prying my eyes open with her divinity. Every second of that morning swirls around in my head like a typhoon, reminding me of each pleasurable impulse as I recall each and every thrust with perfect memory. I've been losing sleep thanks to how often I've been masturbating to the thought of being with her again…
And yet, I'm afraid. I added her as a friend on Discord; we exchanged greetings for Caroline to confirm who I was… and then the chats went silent. I clammed up. I couldn't muster up the courage to talk to her. Pathetic, I know, but how could I? When she's so perfect, so feminine, an idol of everything I could never be.
But, without her, everything is so much worse. My life went back to normal; days passed by like none of that had ever happened. The world moved on… but I couldn't. I had drank her sacred ichor, opening my eyes for the first time in my life, and I saw the world of light that I could embrace. But now I'm back in the world of darkness. I wallow in a muddy pit of shame and misery, staring up at the heavens. Would she still be waiting for me if I took the long climb up to see her?
I don't deserve to go to heaven. I'm a monster – a cynical and hideous monster – unsightly and unwelcoming in all my worst aspects. Caroline only knows me for my body and my outward appearance. If she knew me for the freak I really am… I would be cast back down to the icy mud of Hell; that's what I deserve.
But my body aches to see her again. I madly crave her touch. I've been humping pillows pretending that they're her, but soft cushions can't match the plump flesh that wraps up her entire body.
Out of desperation, I did some snooping. On her Discord profile, Caroline has links to her personal Twitter account. She'd posted a lot of selfies – ones I'd save and use as material to get me through long nights – of herself and other trans women posted up in bars and concerts. It was through these that I managed to find out where she lives:
On the other side of the country. Over six hours away from me. Completely out of my reach.
I'm not allowed to drive, so I can't reach her by car. I could ask my parents to drive me to the city she lives in, but how would I do that?! “Hello, Mum? Could you please take me to this city halfway across the country from us. Why? There's a girl there that I had sex with in the pool changing rooms while we were on holiday.” NO THANKS.
The rift between us feels impossibly wide. Not only could I never stand up to her as a woman, but I can't even see her again if I wanted to – which I do. So I'm confined to my ordinary life, expected to remain content with only a glimpse of the heavens while I labour in Hell. Every night, I pray at the altar, submitting gifts to her image in a ritual of incomplete pleasure, lathering her photos in my fluids like a fucking pervert.
I'm gross. I'm incomplete. I could never be even half the woman she is; a gangly imitation of a female compared to that goddess of a woman. Only with her can I ever hope to become anything more than the pathetic freak I am now.
Which is why I'm going to try.
Anxiety be damned, I will see her again. I want my goddess to know the depths of my devotion to her. I'm going to send her a message. I want to call her. I want to visit her. I'll get enough money together, even if it takes me a while; I have to see her again!
I can't live without her. She came into my life when I needed her the most. Back at that pool, I'd been contemplating whether I should just bite the bullet and kill myself already. Stunted, crooked; my life was nothing but pain and dysphoria. But Caroline showed me the light; she saved me! If I have anything to live for, then let it be her.
Caroline, Caroline, Caroline… I just can't stop saying my name! She's like a parasite that's infested my head! I love her, I love her, I love her so much! I'm stuck in a manic cycle of masturbation and misery and it's all her fault!
I'm going to break free. I'll break these muddy chains of misery and fly into her warm bosom for safety. There I will bloom into somebody who can stand alongside her in those photos, a true woman like her. That's all I've ever wanted: to be a girl.
I love you, Caroline.