As I settled on to Olivia’s couch, the elephant in the room continued to eat at me, despite her outwardly welcoming, accepting attitude. As she plopped herself beside me and snuggled into my neck, I forced myself to ignore the delicious feeling of my softer, smoother skin running along her own soft, smooth skin and actually speak up. “Hey, so um. Did you still want to talk?” I stammered quietly, still dreading the possibility that she was just buttering me up so I would feel more comfortable when she let me down. 

Olivia paused for a moment, thoughts seeming to drift in contemplation before she lightly shook her head. “For the most part, no. I had some stuff on my mind since last night, but honestly? I think it’s not such a big deal after all. So did you really black out last night?”

“For the most part yeah, I remember the big stuff, but almost everything after we returned from the grocery store is gone.” I played the night over in my head one last time, trying to scrounge any missing pieces, but failing. 

“Well, it seems like you’re doing well. I’m really happy you’re exploring your gender more.” She lightly kissed me on the lips and cuddled up to me, acting as the big spoon, which was odd, but it was nice. It almost made me feel small in a weird, but also kind of good way.

“So where did you want to go for dinner?” I blurted, trying to change the focus away from my new presentation. It was weird, something about drawing her attention to my new form made me feel really really strange. Not bad strange, just strange in a way I wasn’t equipped to think about.

“I had some ideas, but now I’m thinking maybe we stay in? I’m kind of tired and well, are you sure you’re ready to go out presenting as your new self?” Her voice took on a very tender, supportive tone as she finished, emphasizing ‘new self’ in a way that left me scratching my head a little. It was nice to see she was into me like this, but she seemed to be making some assumptions that were a tad puzzling. She seemed to be putting a lot of weight on things that were obviously not that big of a deal. The idea of going out like this was a little embarrassing, but at the same time exciting. And it wasn’t as though I were a different person.

“I mean, it is kind of weird, yeah, I’ll probably get some looks, but this is a college town; people try on new presentations all the time.” I shrugged and saw that Olivia seemed to be searching me with her eyes, obviously a little put off by my response. Not that I could blame her; if anything, I was a little put off by how she literally hadn’t missed a beat with my new appearance, immediately jumping into full-on acceptance and even embracing it. Seriously, how was my plan working this well? I figured there would at least still be some confusion as to whether she still wanted to leave me for that other girl, but the way she was acting right, now it was almost as though there was no other girl.

“I was thinking we could stay in tonight. I have some really good leftover curry from that Indian place we like. We could heat it up, relax together and help you get comfortable with your new identity.” She gave me a little kiss on the cheek at the end, and her lips felt really nice pressing against my hairless skin. Smooth really was best. Still, I couldn’t help but scratch my head a little in confusion. On the one hand, it was great to see Olivia being so supportive, but this really was getting to be too much. 

All this talk of new selves and new identities. Who said anything about a new identity? I was just trying to look more feminine for her, not be someone else entirely. I decided then and there I definitely shouldn’t mention the pills; she was already being kind of weird. Not the bad kind of weird, just weird. Mostly I was just relieved that she seemed to no longer be breaking up with me. Still, who was that other girl she was seeing? It was probably best if I found out a bit about her, but that could wait. Honestly, that just sounded like a really anxiety-inducing conversion, and right now I was feeling really relaxed and comfortable.

Olivia was stroking my hair, which felt a lot silkier in very nice ways. And despite the fact that I was still a good three or four inches taller than her -- thankfully she seemed to have somehow not noticed the height thing -- I fit very neatly in her arms. I gave a little sigh, my tone sounding surprisingly androgynous, almost feminine, and lived in the moment. Some ten minutes later, Oliva slid off the couch and padded to the kitchen, leaving me to relax. I heard her start the microwave, and after another few minutes, she returned with two large bowls of curry and rice. She set them on her coffee table and I sat upright, leaning forward to take the bowl in my hand, and gasping a little at the feeling of my sweater rubbing against my nipples. I shivered in surprise and confused happiness. Was this how girls got to feel all the time? I had to admit, I was pretty jealous. It was a shame I’d probably eventually have to go back to normal.

I sank backward into the cushion, and Oliva rested her head on my shoulder as we ate. She flipped on her TV, and started streaming some show she’d been trying to get me into. To be honest, I didn’t really have the mental energy to follow it, I had too much on my mind. But it was nice; we chatted idly throughout, and before long she had me giggling -- yes giggling, absolutely furiously. It was strange; despite everything, I felt so relaxed around her, so much more natural. Normally I felt the need to perform as this strong, providing masculine figure, but lying together on the couch, it felt as though any and all pretenses of that were abandoned and I just got to be me. 

We finished watching her show, and stayed cuddled up for a little longer, chatting about classes, video games, food, whatever we felt like. More than a few times Olivia openly suggested we take part in some more stereotypically feminine activity; she offered to put makeup on me, to paint my nails, to see if any of her clothes would fit me. I shyly declined in all cases, feeling embarrassed and awkward at the mere idea of doing such things, but each time Olivia just nodded patiently and reminded me that we could do any or none of those things whenever I felt comfortable, and she was just trying to give me “the full experience,” whatever that meant. Still, I couldn’t deny that some part of me kind of wanted to do those things; I couldn’t really explain why. I must have been really adjusting well to this new presentation. It made sense; I was in a new situation, so naturally I would adapt to it. And so, as the night progressed, I found it very reassuring to tell myself that one day I would ask her to try those things with me. 

We stayed that way for a few more hours, until around ten, when Olivia started yawning incessantly. She asked if I wanted to spend the night, but I declined; I wasn’t sure I was ready for everything staying the night with her would entail while in my altered form. Apparently, she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep the night before, so we agreed then that I’d head out. I stood to leave, feeling a little teetery and disoriented. It was strange; I’d thought I’d gotten used to my new size and body changes, but apparently not. We met at her door, and the two of us said a slow goodbye. Just as I turned to leave Olivia called to me. I looked over my shoulder, pausing.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to go on a proper date tomorrow? If you’re comfortable presenting as yourself in public, that is.” She sounded a little awkward and almost apologetic for asking, like she was almost expecting me to say no. But I didn’t really get what the big deal was.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I shrugged nonchalantly 

“Great! I’ll figure out a restaurant. If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to see you wear something nice. I think You’d look stunningly pretty in a dress.” She winked flirtatiously at me and suddenly I felt very flush. Her words seemed to reach in and crank up my internal thermostat as suddenly I was a blushing mess on her front porch. I nodded silently, staring at the floor and rushing off. My heart was thumping in my chest at her compliment and I couldn’t stop smiling. 

Me? Pretty? I couldn’t be pretty, could I? That was ridiculous! I mean first of all, I still looked like a guy, sure, a pretty feminine guy, and yeah, maybe I wouldn’t be surprised if some stranger thought I was a pretty girl at first glance, but I couldn’t actually be pretty, right? Also secondly, why did being called pretty have my stomach in knots and my heart caught in my throat? I hurried along the sidewalk, eyes still cast downward trying to hide the blush in my cheeks and the silly smile on my face, my brain a mess of slippery gooey thoughts.

Okay, so yeah, it felt good, but good how? In the past when people had complimented my appearance, I’d just felt awkward and uncomfortable. And it was obvious why that was the case, ‘cause those compliments didn’t make sense. People who said I was a hot guy clearly were either just trying to protect my ego or were deluded because, well, for one, guys weren’t hot, just not unappealing to look at at best. And for two, it was obvious that I was a mediocre guy. I wasn’t as strong as the other strong guys, and I didn’t have that roguish handsomeness that some other guys seemed to have in order to compensate for lacking brawn. Really, I was just super average, if more muscular than some. Maybe being called pretty felt good cause it was kind of true? Not pretty like a girl, but like as girly and pretty as a guy can get without actually being a girl. And that felt kind of genuine, cause when I was looking at myself in the mirror I totally could see it from some angles. 

Still, that didn’t explain why the effect was so profound. It had to have something to do with explicitly linking my femininity to some kind of deeper fulfillment. When Olivia had complimented me like that, just for a second I’d really believed her, even if my brain rushed to correct her afterward. And in that moment I felt small and appreciated in ways other compliments didn’t make me feel. It was exciting, it was embarrassing in an enticing way, and even a little arousing, if I was being honest. 

It felt like for once I was being sexually appreciated for me as myself instead of me as the version of myself I had to create in the gym. So what could that mean? What kind of person liked being called girly and pretty? I wracked my brain for several moments, before the answer smacked me upside the head so hard I nearly tripped. Of course, it was so obvious. How could I be this blind? The way I’d fantasized in the past about being a girl, the fact that Dylan thought it was weird for a guy to want to be more feminine, but I didn’t, the fact that I got weird, excited little feelings from looking at myself in the mirror and was actually disappointed the pills didn’t do more. 

All those experiences clearly pointed to one thing: obviously, I had a forced feminization fetish. I hadn’t historically considered myself submissive, but the way Olivia made me feel certainly had me wanting to melt into a happy little puddle. So clearly I at the very least felt that way in the context of my fetish. With that realization weighing heavily on my mind, I rushed home; oddly, I still felt a little disoriented and off-balance since getting up from Olivia’s couch, but I put such thoughts out of my mind. I was about halfway home, walking adjacent to the edge of campus when my phone buzzed lightly. I fished it out of my pocket to discover a text from Dylan.

SapphicSounds

Well would you look at that! things are working out just fine. Olivia still likes Jesse, so, y'know, clearly that's the end of the story, y'all. Thanks for reading... unless. If you're enjoying things so far, you can currently get early access to all of this story, along with several other benefits such as exclusive audio content, exclusive writing, and pictures of my cat on my patreon for as little as $2 a month.