Znegative
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Apr 15, 2010
- Messages
- 6,019
Disclaimer: Some might find this story to be offensive and misogynistic, perhaps it is- I do not see myself as a misogynist, but then again, I am a man. If I offend anyone, well, I am sorry. That being said, this story goes out to my friend 'Chris Misserable' and his dog 'Tokie', he would appreciate this story. If you're ever in downtown Oakland and driving by 5th and Broadway and see a short dude with a black and white pit bull flying a sign make sure to kick him down a $20 if you can't afford more.
I USED TO BE A GIRL
This is a story about how I used to be a girl and how I turned into a man.
Many of you know me to be a male, so the title of this story may be pretty shocking, macho man I am. Or maybe not. But long ago I was a girl, and a very pretty one at that.
I had long blond hair, wide blue eyes, ample breasts and an ass to match. I was the queen bee, so to speak, in high school; other girls trembled with envy when I passed them in the hall, and boys grew ‘stiff’ and awkward, stuttering incoherent blabber in my presence.
I had it all back then, even had good grades, for the simple flutter of my lashes towards a teacher was rewarded with an ‘A triple plus’. Oh I was a girl alright, a perfect girl-even my blood smelled sweet, like ice tea.
But things began to change one day, back in the fall of ’05, my junior year in high school. That was the year that I met John and fell in love.
John was the star quarter back, and of course, I was the lead cheerleader. Oh, how cute I was with my little pink pom pom’s and my skimpy purple uniform with ‘Bilbo the Rhinoceros’ embroidered on it’s front. (Bilbo was the mascot, you see). And, oh, how dashing John would look, sweating in glory, as he was raised by his beta-male team mates after a winning victory. From across the field I remember desperately trying to lock eyes with him, but alas, they never met.
No, for it was not on the field of victory that we became acquainted, as that is a story for a parallel universe, a universe that my female side, still surely exists in. It was rather, in suspension, that I finally got a chance to talk to my ‘blush-inducing crush’.
Getting in ‘trouble’ was nothing new to me, as I had gotten into a cat fight, once again, with that nasty ‘goth’ bitch, Suzy Lohman.
The Cunt (notice the capitalization of the ‘C’) had told me to ‘shove’ a ‘’bilbo’ up’ my ‘stinky cooch’ (how utterly fucking clever), after I had grabbed her hair by the roots and slammed her head into the lockers for ‘accidentally’ stepping on my foot. I was to report to the study hall at 3:15pm, the time that school let out, and only 15 minutes before a rerun of the one episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I missed was scheduled to air. I was flippant, my cheeks red with rage when I stood before the door to that study hall, but when I opened it, I fear all the ‘rouge’ from my porcelain face, was drained.
There was John, hulked over one of the tables, his fists in a clench, sweat dripping from his biceps, hair, sprouting from his chest, and tears, welling from those soft brown eyes.
After the initial shock, I of course regained composure, pushing down my skimpy pink shirt, revealing my gleaming breasts to the point where one could just see the feint circumference of my dark (but not too dark!) areola’s. As I walked towards him I picked a book up off of one of the tables and then, right as I was in a yards’ distance of the sexy beast’s crying frame, I dropped it.
“Oh, excuse me for being so clumsy”, I said, reaching down to pick up that dreadful bore of a read ‘Crime and Punishment’ (and yes, the ends do justify the means ‘Fyodor’), making sure I took my time as I pretended to struggle with the ‘thing’, dropping it several times to make sure my endowments were well in view. To my frustration, John didn’t even glance, but I didn’t let that sway me. Unlike Raskolnikov, I was immune to shame.
I pulled back a chair and sat down to Johns left.
“So what did you do?” I asked, making a rabbits nose and an inchworm out of my finger, which was pointed at him, trying the ‘cute’ approach.
“I-I”, John stuttered, and then in a fit of convulsions slammed his fists down on the table, “It’s none of your fucking business Zacharina!”
I was beginning to get annoyed with John’s self pity. Clearly being star quarterback had gotten to his head, and he had assumed the martyr’s role; high school football’s version of Kurt Cobain. ‘Sorry John’, I thought, ‘the two just don't mix, why don’t you just put a gun in your mouth and end it too.’ But what I said was:
“Sweetie, what’s the matter? It couldn’t have been that bad.” The kindness of my words stung my tongue as I spoke them. ‘Prove Fyodor wrong’ I thought.
I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the ripple of the bulky deltoid and its pores, which exhumed rage and frustration in a sweet stink that drew me in closer.
“Want me to tell you what I did?” I asked, and then, not waiting for a response, I began:
“Well you know that bitch Suzy Lohman? The one that’s like, clearly on drugs and listens to like, Marylyn Manson? Well, i was walking down the hall just minding my own business, when that mean, mean, ‘girl’ (I made the quotations marks with my fingers for emphasis, as I swear that whore always had a cock between her legs) ran up to me and slapped me in the face. Just out of the blue, it was like, totally uncalled for.”
Seeing that John remained stuck in his warped world of egotism, probably not hearing a word I said between his muffled cries and gasps, I upped the anti, pulling out my spade.
“And then”, I said, softening my voice, forcing my lips to tremble and tears to form in the ducts of my eyes…
“And then she told me to ‘shove bilbo up my stinky cooch’!” I blurted out, along with a few moans and sputters of my own.
John suddenly became quiet. He raised his head from the desks surface, which gleamed from his tears, and looked me dead in the eyes for a moment.
“Bilbo…”, He said, a smirk crossing his face. He suddenly averted his gaze back to his own pile of wet self pity which was practically warping the wood of the desk at this point (like, seriously? Man up!)
“Fucking Bilbo, the Rhinoceros.” Giving out a little chuckle; and then:
“I don’t give a FUCK about Bilbo!” He shouted, slamming his fists down on the table, letting out a horrible, high pitched whine that made me start to laugh uncontrollably. Realizing that I was being cruel though, I impressively transformed that laugh into a hysterical crying fit of my own.
“Whyyy are y-you being so meeaaan to m-m-me!”, I whimpered, “I was o-oonly try-ing to hel-he(w)lp!”
It was an oscar winning performance on my part. John looked up, I had finally penetrated that thick bulk and stirred something in his heart.
“F-Forgive me Z”, he said. “You’re right, that was cruel…I just- I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
He reached out his hand and tried to touch my shoulder, but I quickly averted his grasp; now was the time to play ‘hard-to-get’.
“Z-“, He said, his eyes pleading with me, so big brown and soft, ‘like a well hydrated turd’ I thought to myself, and had to pretend to cough to mask my laughter.
He made a ‘ghhkk’ sound and then once again looked down to sigh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out at you”, he said softly. Hope, which I always visualized as a flower in bloom, spread its pretty petals wide inside the hollow cavity where my heart should’ve been, had God granted me one.
I looked up at him, and between some feint, fake, whimpers, I let out an ‘uh-huh!?”
“I just don’t even know where to begin…I’m afraid that if I told you why I’m in suspension that you’d laugh at me, and make cruel jokes in the hallways between classes.”
‘Poetically spoken John’ I though, wishing i could sneer. ‘Your cock, my cunt’ that’s all I want-and the status of being the star quarter-back’s top shelf Bitch (Capital ‘B’). But now was not the time for such crude words, so I leaned closer, as if John’s show at vulnerability had allowed me to show a ‘secret’ part of myself as well.
“John,” I whispered, even softer now, closer, “I would never laugh at you.”
I’d sold my soul to the devil for pettier things in the past, why stop lying now?
“Y-you wouldn’t?” He said, the look of a mongoloid crossing his face (‘Duhr?!’).
“No John. Never, ever, ever.”
More tears welled from his eyes (oh ‘nigga pleaze!’ RIP DIRTY). At least I had won his trust, and could get this pesky, stupid secret out of the way.
“O-Okay”, he stammered. “I’ll tell you why I’m in suspension.”
“Please John, tell me. Let me ease your troubled mind.”
I got up and put my arm around him, cradling him in a blasphemous mimicry of ‘The Pietta’.
He gripped me tightly, defiling my dainty fingers with his masculine pore-dribbling hands.
“You know Edward Lytouche, from home-room?”
“Yeah, you mean Suzy’s little boy-bitch? That kid’s a total FAG”, I spurted, oblivious to the poisons’ sting.
“Don’t tell me, you beat that little bitch up? OH-MY-GAWD Jonathan, Puhleaze tell me they didn’t send you to study hall for that.”
I continued:
“I mean, shit, we’re in Ohio, like, it’s practically against the law to not beat a homo to death.” I said, and then let out a cute hiccup followed by a giggle.
“No, Zacharina…No I didn’t, but I should have.”
I was like, totally confused now. “What then…?”
The words hung uncomfortably in the air, and I watched soullessly as a wave of darkness possessed Jonathan's face. ‘This guy is totally starting to weird me out and turn me OFF.’ I thought.
“After practice I ran into Edward and Suzy- they had been watching us from the bleachers I guess”, he began:
“Anyways, Suzy came up to me and told me that Edward had something to tell me, she was acting really weird, I mean, weirder than usual, like, it was making Edward uncomfortable too, I could tell. So she just, like, basically pushed Edward toward me and then started walking away, humming that song ‘love hurts’-which I actually like, but only the version by Nazareth, you know, the one that they play in ‘Halloween’-the remake one, by Rob Zombie.”
“uh-huh” I said, jaw slack, getting bored. Hurry it the fuck up John, God I could use some of my mom’s percocets.
“So anyway, she left, and it was just me and and Edward standing there in the middle of the field. It was really awkward, so, like, to make things more comfortable I asked Edward if he wanted to see the locker room.”
Uh Oh. I didn’t like where this was heading.
“So we got to the locker room, and thankfully the rest of the guys had already changed, so it was just the two of us. I started to change out of my uniform, and I asked Edward what Suzy was talking about. He told me it was nothing really, and I was like, ‘aw c’mon Edward, I’m not gonna bite’”
NO.
“So then he started stammering Z, like, he was practically incoherent, just stuttering and pacing back and forth. And it just made me so uncomfortable, you know? It was just really unnerving, seeing how uncomfortable he was and I just wanted to make it stop. And so I-I”
Tears were again pouring down his cheeks and onto the stubble of his shaven cleft chin.
“Tell me Jonathan, WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?” I asked, unattached but fully capable of giving off a believable display of concern.
“It wasn’t him-it was me!” He managed to shout between hysterical coughs and whimpers.
“What!?” I shouted, multiple octaves deeper, the demon in me revealing its hideous soul.
“It was me! Oh god Z, why am I telling you this?? I just wanted him to stop, so I grabbed him-I grabbed him and I kissed him.”
Desperately, in a panic, for this was most unexpected, I struggled, grasping for the right words, but all I could manage was;
“Well, he-he TRICKED YOU Jonathan!”
“But that-that’s not all Z, oh GOD, thats not nearly it!” He looked like he was having an epileptic fit.
“No, that’s all that happened Jona-“
“I kissed him, and then I took him in my mouth!”
‘Enough of this’ I thought, and slapped Jonathan across the face. But he did not let up:
“And then Coach Carter walked in right as Edward…finished.”
I was stunned. I felt nauseous, light headed. My future, my ‘Romeo’, it was all unravelling before my eyes and ears.
Jonathan collapsed onto the table letting out a low moan.
“Coach said he wont have a ‘fag’ as his star quarter back, I’m thrown off the team. I’m fucking done for Zacharina, and you know that cunt Suzy Lohman is going to tell everyone. It’s ALL OVER! Hgh uNG URMMMM”
Psychopathic and immune to empathy, I was quickly able to regain control over myself, assess the situation, and take action.
I grabbed Jonathan's forearm. “Listen to me Jonathan-You’re not like him.”
Jonathan looked up, confused. (Duhr)
I wanted to roll my eyes.
“I mean, you’re not like Edward, you’re not Gay. He tricked you.”
“What are you talking about Zacharina, I initiated it!”
I turned back to Jonathan and gripped his hand tightly in my fist.
“I’m going to help you Jonathan. I’m going to prove to you that you’re not a faggot. You’re going to prove it to yourself!” I said, and began to unbutton my blouse, exposing my brazier.
“You’re going to fuck me Jonathan, right here, right now. No one will ever know of what transpired in that awful locker room. But you have to fuck me right now.”
I jumped up on the desk, spreading my legs, this was my moment. My cunt was wet in anticipation. The only question that remained, was could my goddess-like body turn a homo straight? Jonathan stood up, and advanced. He took me in his huge arms, pressing his face to my stomach, then inching himself further and further down towards my ‘cherry pie’.
‘Oh Jonathan!’ I let out a girlish moan, fake, but convincing. I was determined. John was now facing my steaming pussy, which gushed like an ever-flowing stream. With hesitation, he inched forward, his nose tickled my clitoris. He closed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and then..
“GOD DAMNIT!” He threw me off the table, and I fell backwards onto some chairs, which in turn, toppled to the ground, along with my dainty body. Discarded, I clenched my fists and stared at the ground. Hatred was boiling in that empty cavity. My ‘heart’, a pot; which hissed and popped in humiliation.
He was standing over me. I looked up at him, narrowed my eyes, and in that demonic voice that was so easy to conjure up in my female form, I growled. “You’ve disappointed me Jonathan. It looks like you’re too stubborn to change. I guess you are a faggot.”
Then something strange started to happen. I felt something fragile in my chest, something sensitive, an experience completely foreign to me. Even more shocking, genuine tears began to well in my eyes. I suddenly felt more than lust, I wanted Jonathan, but I couldn’t have him. He wouldn't have me.
That’s when I heard a horrible ripping sound, which was the tearing of my blouse, as my shoulders suddenly broadened horribly, exploding me out of my top. ‘What’s happening to me!?’ I wanted to scream, but I no longer controlled my body. I stood up trying to steady myself. I looked down in horror and watched as my breasts withered and receded into my chest. “Jonathan!” I stammered, but froze at the deep baritone voice that boomed from my lips.
“Whoots hoopenning tooo meeee?!”
My legs thickened, now bursting through my soft (size ‘0’) apple bottom jeans, which now lay, peeled at the sides, by my ankles. The transformation continued. My legs, clean shaven, began to sprout ugly, oily long hairs, and worst of all, I heard a lurching sound come from my most dear parts.
With tears in my clenched eyes, I slowly opened the lids and looked down, to see, in horror, a rather large penis that had torn through my silk undergarments.
“Nooooo!” I cried, in my new and foreign voice. “What have I become!”
Jonathan stood there shocked. I stood in a stupor, fully undressed save for the pair of panties which now had a penis dangling from a hole in its center. What was worse was the way Jonathan looked at me. His eyes became glazed, possessed with what I must assume was lust. I became terrified, for I knew what was crossing his mind.
“Oh, Zacharina.” Jonathan said softly, slowly moving towards me.
“Oh, my beautiful Zacharina.” He brushed his hand against my cheek, now covered in stubble.
“Don’t be afraid”, he said, quickly moving behind me, grabbing my shoulders; “You’re perfect now.”
He then pushed me down until I was on all fours and inserted his rigid cock into my ass. I tried to scream, but he forced his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. He penetrated me for two minutes, and then his body became frigid, ‘Ung MMM ohhh!” He cried out. ‘My god, he’s cumin’ I thought.
I was right. He blasted his load into my rectum. I felt his seed travel up my intestines, into my gut, where it continued to spread, until finally it reached the hollow area in my chest. I fell to the floor, feeling a warmth course through my veins, and a heaviness behind my eyelids. Was this what was meant by ‘feeling’?
And so the transformation was complete. I had become a man. I never saw Jonathan again, as he disappeared that very night. He was discovered two days later in a lake, two concrete slabs connected to his feet by a rope.
Many of you know me to be a male, so the title of this story may be pretty shocking, macho man I am. Or maybe not. But long ago I was a girl, and a very pretty one at that.
I had long blond hair, wide blue eyes, ample breasts and an ass to match. I was the queen bee, so to speak, in high school; other girls trembled with envy when I passed them in the hall, and boys grew ‘stiff’ and awkward, stuttering incoherent blabber in my presence.
I had it all back then, even had good grades, for the simple flutter of my lashes towards a teacher was rewarded with an ‘A triple plus’. Oh I was a girl alright, a perfect girl-even my blood smelled sweet, like ice tea.
But things began to change one day, back in the fall of ’05, my junior year in high school. That was the year that I met John and fell in love.
John was the star quarter back, and of course, I was the lead cheerleader. Oh, how cute I was with my little pink pom pom’s and my skimpy purple uniform with ‘Bilbo the Rhinoceros’ embroidered on it’s front. (Bilbo was the mascot, you see). And, oh, how dashing John would look, sweating in glory, as he was raised by his beta-male team mates after a winning victory. From across the field I remember desperately trying to lock eyes with him, but alas, they never met.
No, for it was not on the field of victory that we became acquainted, as that is a story for a parallel universe, a universe that my female side, still surely exists in. It was rather, in suspension, that I finally got a chance to talk to my ‘blush-inducing crush’.
Getting in ‘trouble’ was nothing new to me, as I had gotten into a cat fight, once again, with that nasty ‘goth’ bitch, Suzy Lohman.
The Cunt (notice the capitalization of the ‘C’) had told me to ‘shove’ a ‘’bilbo’ up’ my ‘stinky cooch’ (how utterly fucking clever), after I had grabbed her hair by the roots and slammed her head into the lockers for ‘accidentally’ stepping on my foot. I was to report to the study hall at 3:15pm, the time that school let out, and only 15 minutes before a rerun of the one episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I missed was scheduled to air. I was flippant, my cheeks red with rage when I stood before the door to that study hall, but when I opened it, I fear all the ‘rouge’ from my porcelain face, was drained.
There was John, hulked over one of the tables, his fists in a clench, sweat dripping from his biceps, hair, sprouting from his chest, and tears, welling from those soft brown eyes.
After the initial shock, I of course regained composure, pushing down my skimpy pink shirt, revealing my gleaming breasts to the point where one could just see the feint circumference of my dark (but not too dark!) areola’s. As I walked towards him I picked a book up off of one of the tables and then, right as I was in a yards’ distance of the sexy beast’s crying frame, I dropped it.
“Oh, excuse me for being so clumsy”, I said, reaching down to pick up that dreadful bore of a read ‘Crime and Punishment’ (and yes, the ends do justify the means ‘Fyodor’), making sure I took my time as I pretended to struggle with the ‘thing’, dropping it several times to make sure my endowments were well in view. To my frustration, John didn’t even glance, but I didn’t let that sway me. Unlike Raskolnikov, I was immune to shame.
I pulled back a chair and sat down to Johns left.
“So what did you do?” I asked, making a rabbits nose and an inchworm out of my finger, which was pointed at him, trying the ‘cute’ approach.
“I-I”, John stuttered, and then in a fit of convulsions slammed his fists down on the table, “It’s none of your fucking business Zacharina!”
I was beginning to get annoyed with John’s self pity. Clearly being star quarterback had gotten to his head, and he had assumed the martyr’s role; high school football’s version of Kurt Cobain. ‘Sorry John’, I thought, ‘the two just don't mix, why don’t you just put a gun in your mouth and end it too.’ But what I said was:
“Sweetie, what’s the matter? It couldn’t have been that bad.” The kindness of my words stung my tongue as I spoke them. ‘Prove Fyodor wrong’ I thought.
I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the ripple of the bulky deltoid and its pores, which exhumed rage and frustration in a sweet stink that drew me in closer.
“Want me to tell you what I did?” I asked, and then, not waiting for a response, I began:
“Well you know that bitch Suzy Lohman? The one that’s like, clearly on drugs and listens to like, Marylyn Manson? Well, i was walking down the hall just minding my own business, when that mean, mean, ‘girl’ (I made the quotations marks with my fingers for emphasis, as I swear that whore always had a cock between her legs) ran up to me and slapped me in the face. Just out of the blue, it was like, totally uncalled for.”
Seeing that John remained stuck in his warped world of egotism, probably not hearing a word I said between his muffled cries and gasps, I upped the anti, pulling out my spade.
“And then”, I said, softening my voice, forcing my lips to tremble and tears to form in the ducts of my eyes…
“And then she told me to ‘shove bilbo up my stinky cooch’!” I blurted out, along with a few moans and sputters of my own.
John suddenly became quiet. He raised his head from the desks surface, which gleamed from his tears, and looked me dead in the eyes for a moment.
“Bilbo…”, He said, a smirk crossing his face. He suddenly averted his gaze back to his own pile of wet self pity which was practically warping the wood of the desk at this point (like, seriously? Man up!)
“Fucking Bilbo, the Rhinoceros.” Giving out a little chuckle; and then:
“I don’t give a FUCK about Bilbo!” He shouted, slamming his fists down on the table, letting out a horrible, high pitched whine that made me start to laugh uncontrollably. Realizing that I was being cruel though, I impressively transformed that laugh into a hysterical crying fit of my own.
“Whyyy are y-you being so meeaaan to m-m-me!”, I whimpered, “I was o-oonly try-ing to hel-he(w)lp!”
It was an oscar winning performance on my part. John looked up, I had finally penetrated that thick bulk and stirred something in his heart.
“F-Forgive me Z”, he said. “You’re right, that was cruel…I just- I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
He reached out his hand and tried to touch my shoulder, but I quickly averted his grasp; now was the time to play ‘hard-to-get’.
“Z-“, He said, his eyes pleading with me, so big brown and soft, ‘like a well hydrated turd’ I thought to myself, and had to pretend to cough to mask my laughter.
He made a ‘ghhkk’ sound and then once again looked down to sigh.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out at you”, he said softly. Hope, which I always visualized as a flower in bloom, spread its pretty petals wide inside the hollow cavity where my heart should’ve been, had God granted me one.
I looked up at him, and between some feint, fake, whimpers, I let out an ‘uh-huh!?”
“I just don’t even know where to begin…I’m afraid that if I told you why I’m in suspension that you’d laugh at me, and make cruel jokes in the hallways between classes.”
‘Poetically spoken John’ I though, wishing i could sneer. ‘Your cock, my cunt’ that’s all I want-and the status of being the star quarter-back’s top shelf Bitch (Capital ‘B’). But now was not the time for such crude words, so I leaned closer, as if John’s show at vulnerability had allowed me to show a ‘secret’ part of myself as well.
“John,” I whispered, even softer now, closer, “I would never laugh at you.”
I’d sold my soul to the devil for pettier things in the past, why stop lying now?
“Y-you wouldn’t?” He said, the look of a mongoloid crossing his face (‘Duhr?!’).
“No John. Never, ever, ever.”
More tears welled from his eyes (oh ‘nigga pleaze!’ RIP DIRTY). At least I had won his trust, and could get this pesky, stupid secret out of the way.
“O-Okay”, he stammered. “I’ll tell you why I’m in suspension.”
“Please John, tell me. Let me ease your troubled mind.”
I got up and put my arm around him, cradling him in a blasphemous mimicry of ‘The Pietta’.
He gripped me tightly, defiling my dainty fingers with his masculine pore-dribbling hands.
“You know Edward Lytouche, from home-room?”
“Yeah, you mean Suzy’s little boy-bitch? That kid’s a total FAG”, I spurted, oblivious to the poisons’ sting.
“Don’t tell me, you beat that little bitch up? OH-MY-GAWD Jonathan, Puhleaze tell me they didn’t send you to study hall for that.”
I continued:
“I mean, shit, we’re in Ohio, like, it’s practically against the law to not beat a homo to death.” I said, and then let out a cute hiccup followed by a giggle.
“No, Zacharina…No I didn’t, but I should have.”
I was like, totally confused now. “What then…?”
The words hung uncomfortably in the air, and I watched soullessly as a wave of darkness possessed Jonathan's face. ‘This guy is totally starting to weird me out and turn me OFF.’ I thought.
“After practice I ran into Edward and Suzy- they had been watching us from the bleachers I guess”, he began:
“Anyways, Suzy came up to me and told me that Edward had something to tell me, she was acting really weird, I mean, weirder than usual, like, it was making Edward uncomfortable too, I could tell. So she just, like, basically pushed Edward toward me and then started walking away, humming that song ‘love hurts’-which I actually like, but only the version by Nazareth, you know, the one that they play in ‘Halloween’-the remake one, by Rob Zombie.”
“uh-huh” I said, jaw slack, getting bored. Hurry it the fuck up John, God I could use some of my mom’s percocets.
“So anyway, she left, and it was just me and and Edward standing there in the middle of the field. It was really awkward, so, like, to make things more comfortable I asked Edward if he wanted to see the locker room.”
Uh Oh. I didn’t like where this was heading.
“So we got to the locker room, and thankfully the rest of the guys had already changed, so it was just the two of us. I started to change out of my uniform, and I asked Edward what Suzy was talking about. He told me it was nothing really, and I was like, ‘aw c’mon Edward, I’m not gonna bite’”
NO.
“So then he started stammering Z, like, he was practically incoherent, just stuttering and pacing back and forth. And it just made me so uncomfortable, you know? It was just really unnerving, seeing how uncomfortable he was and I just wanted to make it stop. And so I-I”
Tears were again pouring down his cheeks and onto the stubble of his shaven cleft chin.
“Tell me Jonathan, WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?” I asked, unattached but fully capable of giving off a believable display of concern.
“It wasn’t him-it was me!” He managed to shout between hysterical coughs and whimpers.
“What!?” I shouted, multiple octaves deeper, the demon in me revealing its hideous soul.
“It was me! Oh god Z, why am I telling you this?? I just wanted him to stop, so I grabbed him-I grabbed him and I kissed him.”
Desperately, in a panic, for this was most unexpected, I struggled, grasping for the right words, but all I could manage was;
“Well, he-he TRICKED YOU Jonathan!”
“But that-that’s not all Z, oh GOD, thats not nearly it!” He looked like he was having an epileptic fit.
“No, that’s all that happened Jona-“
“I kissed him, and then I took him in my mouth!”
‘Enough of this’ I thought, and slapped Jonathan across the face. But he did not let up:
“And then Coach Carter walked in right as Edward…finished.”
I was stunned. I felt nauseous, light headed. My future, my ‘Romeo’, it was all unravelling before my eyes and ears.
Jonathan collapsed onto the table letting out a low moan.
“Coach said he wont have a ‘fag’ as his star quarter back, I’m thrown off the team. I’m fucking done for Zacharina, and you know that cunt Suzy Lohman is going to tell everyone. It’s ALL OVER! Hgh uNG URMMMM”
Psychopathic and immune to empathy, I was quickly able to regain control over myself, assess the situation, and take action.
I grabbed Jonathan's forearm. “Listen to me Jonathan-You’re not like him.”
Jonathan looked up, confused. (Duhr)
I wanted to roll my eyes.
“I mean, you’re not like Edward, you’re not Gay. He tricked you.”
“What are you talking about Zacharina, I initiated it!”
I turned back to Jonathan and gripped his hand tightly in my fist.
“I’m going to help you Jonathan. I’m going to prove to you that you’re not a faggot. You’re going to prove it to yourself!” I said, and began to unbutton my blouse, exposing my brazier.
“You’re going to fuck me Jonathan, right here, right now. No one will ever know of what transpired in that awful locker room. But you have to fuck me right now.”
I jumped up on the desk, spreading my legs, this was my moment. My cunt was wet in anticipation. The only question that remained, was could my goddess-like body turn a homo straight? Jonathan stood up, and advanced. He took me in his huge arms, pressing his face to my stomach, then inching himself further and further down towards my ‘cherry pie’.
‘Oh Jonathan!’ I let out a girlish moan, fake, but convincing. I was determined. John was now facing my steaming pussy, which gushed like an ever-flowing stream. With hesitation, he inched forward, his nose tickled my clitoris. He closed his eyes, stuck out his tongue and then..
“GOD DAMNIT!” He threw me off the table, and I fell backwards onto some chairs, which in turn, toppled to the ground, along with my dainty body. Discarded, I clenched my fists and stared at the ground. Hatred was boiling in that empty cavity. My ‘heart’, a pot; which hissed and popped in humiliation.
He was standing over me. I looked up at him, narrowed my eyes, and in that demonic voice that was so easy to conjure up in my female form, I growled. “You’ve disappointed me Jonathan. It looks like you’re too stubborn to change. I guess you are a faggot.”
Then something strange started to happen. I felt something fragile in my chest, something sensitive, an experience completely foreign to me. Even more shocking, genuine tears began to well in my eyes. I suddenly felt more than lust, I wanted Jonathan, but I couldn’t have him. He wouldn't have me.
That’s when I heard a horrible ripping sound, which was the tearing of my blouse, as my shoulders suddenly broadened horribly, exploding me out of my top. ‘What’s happening to me!?’ I wanted to scream, but I no longer controlled my body. I stood up trying to steady myself. I looked down in horror and watched as my breasts withered and receded into my chest. “Jonathan!” I stammered, but froze at the deep baritone voice that boomed from my lips.
“Whoots hoopenning tooo meeee?!”
My legs thickened, now bursting through my soft (size ‘0’) apple bottom jeans, which now lay, peeled at the sides, by my ankles. The transformation continued. My legs, clean shaven, began to sprout ugly, oily long hairs, and worst of all, I heard a lurching sound come from my most dear parts.
With tears in my clenched eyes, I slowly opened the lids and looked down, to see, in horror, a rather large penis that had torn through my silk undergarments.
“Nooooo!” I cried, in my new and foreign voice. “What have I become!”
Jonathan stood there shocked. I stood in a stupor, fully undressed save for the pair of panties which now had a penis dangling from a hole in its center. What was worse was the way Jonathan looked at me. His eyes became glazed, possessed with what I must assume was lust. I became terrified, for I knew what was crossing his mind.
“Oh, Zacharina.” Jonathan said softly, slowly moving towards me.
“Oh, my beautiful Zacharina.” He brushed his hand against my cheek, now covered in stubble.
“Don’t be afraid”, he said, quickly moving behind me, grabbing my shoulders; “You’re perfect now.”
He then pushed me down until I was on all fours and inserted his rigid cock into my ass. I tried to scream, but he forced his hand over my mouth, muffling my cries. He penetrated me for two minutes, and then his body became frigid, ‘Ung MMM ohhh!” He cried out. ‘My god, he’s cumin’ I thought.
I was right. He blasted his load into my rectum. I felt his seed travel up my intestines, into my gut, where it continued to spread, until finally it reached the hollow area in my chest. I fell to the floor, feeling a warmth course through my veins, and a heaviness behind my eyelids. Was this what was meant by ‘feeling’?
And so the transformation was complete. I had become a man. I never saw Jonathan again, as he disappeared that very night. He was discovered two days later in a lake, two concrete slabs connected to his feet by a rope.