“You know what a big problem of yours is? You never give the girls a chance, you always do one date and that’s it.” My friend, as far as the definition of that word can be stretched, Marcus, had dragged me outside my den again. He had clung onto me at work as the only other guy his age, desperate for male camaraderie in an environment full of women. Somehow he went for me, the dweeby geek that’d get lost in that swarm of women, partially due to height, partially because I didn’t want to get my hair cut. Hey you try being born with Mary Jane Watson’s hair and not wanting it to reach its full potential. Anyways, we were on our way to a bar, I had no clue what the place was, I didn’t really care. My previous attempts at dating fell through for the same reason every time. We’d get in bed, and I’d freeze like a deer in headlights.
So really, it wasn’t the case that I didn’t give them a chance, they never gave me one. It turned out Marcus had been talking the whole time I was zoning out with my internal monologue, as we were now arriving at the bar itself. Well, correction on it being a bar. “So let’s try and get you someone freakier that might be into you, if all the nice girls run away when your virgin ass can’t get it up. Best goth club in town, from what I’ve overheard when the girls at the office were talking.”
The place had a sign on the front like an old tavern, wooden and carved out. The name? Pale Bat Lounge. I could hear piano music coming from the place, giving it the ambiance of a vampire hangout. For all I knew, it was one. When Marcus and I entered the place, he just dragged my ass to the bar, sat me down there, and left me alone, intending to wingman me a date. The moment he was far away enough, I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“Not a fan of the venue?” The voice I heard asking that question was sultry,husky, enticing, like you could hear a command from the woman owning that voice and you’d do anything to fulfill it. I didn’t look up from the bar at the individual who seemed to have approached me, I just chuckled a bit.
“I might enjoy it more if I had stumbled in here of my own free will, instead of being dragged in by a coworker.” I shrugged, a small smirk on my lips.
“Aaahhh, not here out of choice but obligation. What does your friend hope to accomplish? Get you laid?” I heard the stool next to me squeak, probably from the voice owner sitting down.
“I don’t think that’s an appropriate questio-” I turned to face her, and froze. The eyes looking at me had to have colored contacts on them, because nobody had purple eyes that vibrant. Or purple eyes in general. The confident smile she was giving me was from lips colored such a vibrant red, you’d think she had smeared fresh blood on them. Her hair dark, cut into a bob, framing her high cheeked face which was as pale as moonlight. My eyes ended up wandering down her frame, her fashion choices making her fit right in with the decor. A sleeveless dress, the fishnet bust that cover her neck exposing her more than generous cleavage. The corset on the dress cinching her waist in, exaggerating her hips, which were adorned in a short tight skirt, one side of which was exposed, kept together with a crosshatched string that left all the skin on her thigh exposed. And past that, stockings with a lace top, that pulled your eyes down to the stiletto heels her feet were adorned in, ones you could kill a man with.
She laughed. “Bat got your tongue, Red?” She extended her hand for a shake.
“Name’s Azalea.”
“Clark.” I shook her hand, letting go right away, but she quickly leaned in closer to me, right against my ear.
“Tell you what, Clark.” There was a hint of… disdain? Disgust? Displeasure? When she said my name. As if she had tasted something bitter. I was probably imagining it. “How about we go to my place, and I get your friend off your back.” She pulled back, offering her hand, palm up, looking right into my eyes, like she was trying to burn an image of her amethyst gaze right into them. Like she was trying to read the depths of my soul. Part of me wanted to accept her offer, but part of me was afraid I’d freeze up again, like all the previous times.
It would probably prove like a stupid decision, but the horny part of my brain won this time. I nodded and grabbed hold of Azalea’s hand, as she began leading me out of the club. I caught a glimpse of Marcus approaching my seat, a cute girl by his side, and he caught a glimpse of me leaving. So, he mouthed ‘good luck’ at me and winked. I really wished he’d stop trying to make us ‘bros’ or whatever.
Azalea’s place was big. Definitely compared to my dingy living space. Her penthouse apartment must have cost a fortune to get, the living room having a lowered floor in the center for a lounging area, like a large couch in a hole you could just slide onto or lay on, that could easily accommodate 15 people.
And Azalea was currently sitting on it, a box on the table part of the lowered ground. She was giving me an inviting look, daring me to join her on the couch. I barely even thought about it, I simply walked over and slid right next to her, gulping as she adjusted her position. “So, Little Red, welcome to my place. Now, we could just go to my bedroom, rip our clothes off and have a go at it, but I suspect you wouldn’t be quite as interested in that.” I barely noticed her move to straddle me, but suddenly she was looking right into my eyes. “Thus, I have a different proposition for you. Something to make things more… interesting. All you have to do is follow my commands.” She ran her hand down my chest, putting her free arm around my neck. “If it gets too much at any point, you can just say so, we’ll stop, and if you’re up to it, we cuddle and spend the night together. What do you say, cutie, you up for it?”
I hadn’t been called cute up until that point. The other dates tried handsome, but that always made me feel awkward. Cute though? Cute buried itself in my chest, making me ache for more. “Y-yeah, I’m up for it.” I managed to stutter out, probably as red as my hair from blushing too much, based on how my cheeks felt. The smile Azalea gave me was almost predatory, with her teeth exposed, her canines visibly longer and sharper. A vampire type of goth, I guessed. She definitely was as enchanting as one.
“I’m glad to hear it, Red. Follow me.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me off the couch, leading me to the bathroom. The size of it left me in awe, mostly due to the bathtub, towards which Azalea walked over once she let go of my hand, drawing it. As the water filled it up, she poured liquids from unlabelled bottles into it, before she came to stand right in front of me, putting her hands on my hips. There seemed to be a look of… sympathy? To her gaze, as she looked down. She once again leaned against my ear, and uttered a single word. “Strip.” Her hands swiftly took hold of my shirt, helping me pull it off. Even before I had completely removed it, I could feel Azalea’s touch on my chest, both hands of hers on my pecs. And when the fabric stopped being in the way of my gaze, I saw the same sympathetic look I had seen on her face only moments prior.
It was time for my pants. And usually? That was the part that I froze at, the part I mouthed no at. And it was obvious Azalea noticed it as she went to help me remove them. She stopped, gave me a quick smile, and stepped to stand behind me instead. “Put your arms behind your back, Red.” Azalea asked of me, and so I did. Once they were there, I could feel her squeeze up as close to me as possible, her generous bust squishing against my back, as she put her arms around my waist. “Look down for the start, cutie, and then look up when I’m pulling them down.” And I did. Seeing her arms there, going for the zipper and buttons on my jeans, grabbing the sides of them, it felt… warm. Not in my crotch, but in my chest. It wasn’t a random girl removing a guy’s pants, it was a girl removing her own pants. Somehow, my brain got tricked into thinking that with just this angle change. And by looking up, only feeling the fabric slide down my legs, that idea stayed there. A girl getting undressed. I wasn’t sure what the warm feeling in my chest from that thought was, but it felt nice.
All that was followed by a tug on my hair, not a painful one, just a strong one. It ended quickly, and when I went to touch it, I found it had been tied back in a bun. “Don’t want these lovely locks of yours getting wet, Red. Get in the bath, and stay in until I come get you. Oh, and don’t look at your body as you get in.” The commands from Azalea made sense, the only confusing one was about not looking at my body. Why should she want that? Still, I agreed to the deal, and we hadn’t done anything I wouldn’t want to do. The moment I was soaking and turned my gaze to her, she left the room, smiling, closing the door behind herself.
The bath smelled of violets and, somehow, snuggling in freshly changed bedding. And the water felt comfortably warm. Laying my head down on the little cushioned space, I kind of lost any awareness of my body. And thus, my brain jumped to wondering about the warm feeling from thinking I was a girl getting undressed. I tried to analyze the specifics of it, of what exactly that feeling was, if I had ever felt it before. And I couldn’t really think of times I felt it previously.
It was at that precise second when the realisation had hit me that Azalea entered the bathroom once more, a towel in hand. “Please step out of the bathroom and come towel yourself off.” I did, and as I got out and once again regained awareness of my body, I felt colder in the room, not by much but still noticeable. Azalea helped me towel off, and I could feel the soft fabric of the towel more than I would have been able to before. It felt like the few times I had shaved my body hair before a date, which I stopped doing after weirding out the girls somewhat. I never figured out why, but their reactions had hurt me. Azalea threw the towel on a rack once she was done drying me, and grabbed my hand once more. “Follow me.”
She led me to her bedroom, spacious, with a king size bed, the back of which was covered in stuffed toys of various characters, none of which I recognized, and all of which looked like goth girls. And on the bed itself? An outfit was spread out. Red and black striped tights. A dress with a poofy black skirt, shoulder straps and a plaid ribbon on the chest, lacing it decoratively, a white blouse with poofy short sleeves, whose collar was adorned with pentagram pins. On top of that ensemble? A simple set of underwear. A plaid padded bra and matching panties. I turned to Azalea, unsure of her plans, with her just smiling at me. “Put on the underwear.” She commanded, and I gulped, stepping closer to the bed, but still uncertain of actually wearing girl clothes. She approached me from behind, resting her arms on my shoulders as she pulled close. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been curious about how they feel. That you didn’t try on your mom’s or sister’s clothes in secret. Come on, go ahead, put them on, there is no shame in experimenting.” Azalea whispered in my ear, forcing me to dig up memories I had somehow managed to repress, for reasons I couldn’t understand.
I quickly grabbed the panties and pulled them up, but not the whole way, Azalea’s hands had stopped me as I neared my crotch, and she reached for it, pushing my dick between my legs. “Continue.” She commanded, and I did, pulling them up the last couple of inches, making sure they fit snug and comfortably. The fabric was much softer than I was used to, and the cut was interesting. I was wearing panties. Feminine underwear. Kind of goth themed feminine underwear. Like girls wore. The warm feeling in my chest returned, and I reached for it, gulping once more. Azalea gently touched my cheek. “Does it feel euphoric to wear them?” She asked. It did. That was the word for the warm feeling. Euphoria. I nodded to reply. “I’m glad to hear it, but you know, good girls wear their bras. And I’m sure you want to be a good girl, so go on, put it on.” Her use of the phrase good girl had hit me like a truck. If the warm feeling in my chest was euphoria, then I was feeling a lot of it right now. I grabbed the bra and put it on by clipping it in the back and pulling my arms through the straps. It was as if the knowledge on how to do that had been buried in my subconscious.
The padding in the bra gave an illusion of me having breasts. I looked down at my body, the body of someone who at this moment had small breasts in a bra, and a flat crotch. And the euphoria only got stronger. I was surprised to see Azalea reach around my chest to start squeezing the padding. The act made me wonder how it would feel to actually have breasts there. To feel Azalea touch them. To be a girl having her breasts played with. I really wanted to be a girl in that moment.
And then it hit me. I wanted to be a girl. That’s why I always froze. The girls I was with had expected a guy from my appearance, and that’s how they treated me. But I didn’t want to be a guy. I wanted to be a girl. The question was if I could actually be one. Azalea kissed my cheeks as she stopped fondling my chest, pulling me into a hug instead. “Did my good girl have a realisation just now? Tell me.” She asked of me, and I nodded.
“I… I realised I want to be a girl.” I answered, my cheeks as red as my hair, which had been freed from its bun prison to flow freely once again.
“Well good, because I’ve been working on making you realise it all night long. Put on the rest of the outfit, cutie.” Azalea let go of me and stepped back, giving me space to get dressed. First the tights, then the blouse, and finishing it off with the dress, which had a zipper in the back that she helped me with. When I looked down at myself, all I could see was a cute goth girl. Not a sexy one like Azalea was, a cute one. The second I had turned to face her, she lunged for me, sending me falling onto her bed, my wrists held tightly but not painfully in her hands, as she straddled me, her face inches from mine. “What a good girl you are. But we can’t have you running around with your old name. You’re much too pretty a girl for that one. Yes, pretty like a doll. Perhaps we should go with Dahlia. What do you think my cute little red, does Dahlia suit you?” It did. Dahlia felt right. I was Dahlia. I gave Azalea a nod, and she leaned forward, kissing me, her tongue making its way into my mouth to fight with mine. She pulled my wrists together, grabbing them both with one hand, as she slid her free one under my skirt. MY skirt. I was in a dress that had a poofy skirt, and a gorgeous lady was sticking her hand under it, reaching for my crotch, rubbing it slowly. I squirmed slightly at her touch. I wasn’t used to being treated this way. In specific terms, I had never reached this stage. Azalea was the first woman to ever pleasure me, and she was pleasuring me as a girl, rubbing instead of stroking. I would have been moaning in that moment, had she not been busy french kissing me still. Not something I would complain about.
But shortly after, she let go of my wrists, and pulled back from the kiss, her other hand still busy teasing my contained dick with rubs. With her other free hand, she opened a couple of the top buttons on my blouse, and pulled it open, pulling it off to the side a bit on top, exposing my neck. I guessed she must have been really into the vampire thing. Azalea chose that moment to bite me. The short burst of pain from her fangs breaking skin was soon replaced with warmth and relaxation, as my eyes rolled back slightly. I could still feel everything, and I could feel it more intensely. I could feel Azalea feeding on something, but I wasn’t feeling groggy from blood loss. If anything, I was feeling better and better. She ran her free hand through my hair as she kept sucking, and her other hand kept rubbing my crotch.
With each of her sucks though, there was a slight pressure building in my chest and hips. A pressure that left them feeling somewhat sore. With my eyes rolled back from whatever aphrodisiac the bite had given me, I couldn’t look what was happening to my body. But the next sensation gave me more of an idea.
I could feel my dick shrinking, actively rubbing against the fabric of my panties as it pulled back, Azalea’s hand still pleasuring it with rubs, resulting in me feeling them more and more with each inch lost. I wanted to squirm from her touch, I wanted to moan, but the most I could do was pant as she got more and more intense. The pressure in my chest and hips didn’t take long to stop, and as I felt a rumbling in my stomach, and a splitting between my legs, Azalea pulled back. The moment she did, I buckled. I let out a long moan as I came, my brain only realising later that I had came not just while wearing panties, but also tights, and that they were now starting to soak with my juices. This of course left me blushing, on top of being confused about what had just happened. Azalea licked her lips, and giggling, laid down next to me, pulling me close into a hug and kissing my cheek. “What just-” I began, blushing even harder upon hearing my voice “-what just happened? Are you a real vampire?!”
Azalea giggled. “I am. Although despite popular culture, my clan does not feed on blood. We feed on essences. Masculinity, Femininity, Strength, Stamina, Anxiety, that sort of thing. I just sucked out all your Masculinity. You barely had a shot glass’ worth, I really had to take my time savoring it.” She kissed my neck where she had bit me, and I looked at my form. My chest was modest. Very modest indeed, I was a sixth of Azalea’s size. And I wasn’t sure whether my poofy skirt was exaggerating them, but my hips had gotten quite wide, as had my ass. I’d never need a pillow to sit on again. The only thing I was left curious about was my face. Azalea hadn’t brought me in front of any mirror for the entire time. Wait, vampires can’t really see themselves in mirrors. No point in having them, is what I thought, up until Azalea reached into a drawer that was on her nightstand, and pulled out a hand mirror, handing it to me.
“Old mirrors were silvered, that’s why vampires couldn’t see themselves in them. Modern ones are tin, thus problem solved.” Azalea smiled as she watched me see myself for the first time in the mirror,. I was on the verge of tears. She kissed me again. “How about you and me change into some comfortable nightwear, so that I can throw those soaked tights and panties into the wash, and then we spend the night together and have a brunch date tomorrow. What do you say?”
“I think that sounds nice. But now I’m wondering whether you mind controlled me during the evening.” I admitted, holding my shoulder as I sat up.
“Yeah, the mind control of an amazing cleavage and a voice that makes girls drop to their knees. Any mortal woman with those two things could do what I had done.” Azalea gave me a wink, before she got off the bed to look through her wardrobe. I rolled my eyes and laughed slightly, and fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. What a night this had been.
Three days later, Azalea messaged me a picture of a plush toy, same style as her other ones, with the text ‘look babe, it’s you’ attached. So I asked her ‘Does that make all the other ones your exes?’ To which she replied with ‘No, up until you it’s all clients using me for transition care. I’ll pick you up at 7 for our dinner date.’
All I sent back was ‘Can’t wait!’
Azalea can top me
Squee! :D
I wonder what Markus would say to Dahlia's ... development. :D Or her parents. Or workplace. ... But I guess, this isn't the kind of story that would dive too much into real life issues. Thanks for the cute story!
aaaaaaa this is so cute and nice :3 I loved it to bits :3 :3
Cute and sexy
AHHHHH this is so good and lewdly wholesome and sweet that i wish this was a full story and not just a oneshot.
f*ck at the shot glass worth of masculinity line just... Something like that must be so wonderful to hear... Dahlia is a lucky girl indeed...
Even more adorable! Thanks for the story!
This is going directly to my favorites !!!
this was so cute!!
Awwwww!