SilverStars

Contains nude and erotic descriptions. But nothing that will not attribute to the development of the MC or his/her character.

The shower

They brought me to a room, adjacent to the showers. I was greeted by a bag with some clothes, a towel and large bottle of showering gel. There were 5 shower stalls. The one on the left was free, so I immediately entered it.

After closing the door I instantly peeled of my wet clothes. The shower consisted out of two parts: a little square to get naked and dressed again and the actual shower. The miniscule dressing spot was packed with a little bench, a mirror and three clothes hooks. After my clothes were thrown in a corner, forming a smelly wet puddle, I turned around and froze. And lit up like a stop sign.

“This is me???????”, I stammered in my own head.

This was vastly different from my first full-change experience. Then I looked like a woman and looked ok. This time, I lost sense of time and space looking at myself.

I looked in a pair yellow-green eyes. They were large with a nice twinkle in them. The outer rim was green flowing to yellow in the centre. They drew extra attention through the long and full lashes and the nice arc of my eyebrows. I had a small, delicately sculptured nose, like the finishing touch on a masterpiece, and sharply lined lips in a nice shade of red. It almost looked like I was wearing lipstick. My cheekbones were clearly visible but not very pronounced and I had cute dimples in my cheeks. This face, somewhere between heart-shaped and round, framed with slightly curling, long, dark brown hair with a reddish shine breathed something angelic. At this moment it was very flustered angelic with the red dots on my cheeks and a very surprised expression. It was hyper cute. It only made me blush more. Previously I was a raw sketch of the idea, this time I was the expertly crafted finished product.

My skin was without any blemish, giving me a surreal appearance. My eyes were drawn to the rest of my body. I had very large but very perk breasts with cute little nipples, twice the size of my male counterparts. The nipples, not the breasts. The breasts were strange. They were beautifully formed. They looked very soft. They looked like they belonged on my chest. If I ever had a girlfriend again, those were the assets I dreamed she would have. I would have been unable to resist them. But now they were attached to me.

I move a little and they moved too. I looked down and saw not much of them, just a bit of a large swelling. I cupped them. They filled my hands and gave me some really unfamiliar feelings. I was somewhat prepared for it since my last time sporting a pair. Although, last time, they were absolutely not that big and I certainly didn’t touch them like this.

I stopped exploring myself through the mirror and just looked down at my body. The mirror only showed my upper body after all.

“Mirror too small! Bad! Should be larger!”, I thought completely going in overdrive.

I was really toned without having bulking muscles. In my nether regions, all I saw was a triangle of curling hair and all I didn’t see was the usual tube that should have been there. I was expecting this, but it was still very unsettling.

I pondered a bit about the implications, “How on earth do women experience sex? I know what to do as a man and after some tips and guidance, I never got any complaints about my performance. Didn’t get any wild complements either. How do women know what to do? Is this the same as with boys? Stroke the right place long enough and *boom*, 10 seconds of intense bliss in short, but oh so satisfying, mini explosions?” My thinking was interrupted. I was getting extremely cold!

I turned on the shower and as soon as the temperature of the water started to climb, I hopped in. A new sensation awaited. There is a big difference between seeing that you lack body hair and feeling the effect of it. My skin, combined with a layer of water was like silk. I think it elected a little moan from me. This was an extremely erotic feeling.

“15 minutes? You have to be kidding me! That is way too short!”, I thought complaining to the universe. I had already wasted precious minutes. I started to realize it when I was soaping myself in. It should not have made me aroused, especially with the time pressure, but it did. It took a lot of willpower to stop caressing myself. It was just too different. It felt so much more intense!

The feeling of arousal was also not what I expected. It was a kind of feel good that made me very warm. It sort of started in my belly and travelled throughout my body. It increased my sensitivity and made my mad mind go mad with a longing for more. With the warmth flowing between my legs, I literally got extra sparks in my belly from just rubbing my thighs against each other. At the same time, I had a feeling of a soft, wet warmth on a place where my legs came together. It just felt very nice and overwhelmingly strange.

“I’m not touching myself between my legs.” I thought. “If feeling my own skin was the preview, I won’t be able to cope with this in the time left for my shower.” Instead I made another fatal mistake. I took the shower head to spray everything clean ‘down there’.

If this was a cartoon, I would be on my knees searching for my eyes. It felt like they literally popped out of my eye sockets from the sudden spike in feeling. This time I moaned load and clear. It was a complete foreign feeling and my body reacted on auto pilot while my mind was still trying to make sense of the messages my nerve endings were sending. Now I understand why my ex-wife was so picky about the choice of our shower. And why she absolutely loved to shower. And why she regularly locked the bathroom when taking a shower.

“Marie! Are you almost finished? Your 15 minutes are almost over!”, I heard Amélie shout.

I stopped massaging myself with the stream of water. Way too fast. But I had too. I still had my hair to wash. It was half wet already.

“Getting there!” I shouted back, “I just still need to wash my hair!”

Soaping and rinsing my hair took a lot longer than before but nothing dramatic. Getting it dry… That didn’t work at all with a towel. Oh, and I instantly learned that towels are for dipping yourself dry and not for rubbing. Especially not if you got a towel from a police station where sandpaper might as well be softer and your skin had a sensitivity upgrade with a factor ten. I rubbed my tummy with the towel and now it was all red. The rest of my body got dipped dry.

I got the clothes out of the bag, while Amélie was shouting again and I shouted back a little distressed. I looked at what they handed me. I looked for underwear first and almost missed it. It had the size of a small handkerchief. And yet, it fit, with another alien sensation. I felt the entire underpants snuggly against my skin. Normally it just hung a bit loose and that was how I grew up with it. Next part, a sports bra. It had a size small. Not medium or large like I was expecting.

“Small? Size small? My breasts aren’t small, are they? They are BIG!”, it protested silently. “Why am I upset for my breasts being judged small?” Nevertheless, after a few tries, I managed to hook it, and position it into place. It fitted but not very comfortably. “Really? I thought they were large. Not huge but just large. How must large look and feel like?” I wondered.

I put on the rest of the clothes. A black legging, more accentuation my form then hiding it and a hoodie that turned out to be a long sleeved dress nicely clinging to my figure. Before I put my socks and my ‘new’ pair of sneakers -so tiny!- on, I took the brush and tried to brush my hair.

“AAAAUUUW”, I screamed in surprise. One little touch and I had already found a knot in my hair. It took quite a while and a lot of effort for the brush and my fingers to get my hair untangled. Then I remembered. Women always use multiple bottles of shampoo. I guessed at least one of those bottles would contain something that would make this a lot easier.

I clocked off on 25 minutes. I put on the short jeans jacket and I emerged smelling like flowers and looking like a knock-out. The clothes really transformed me, even if they were just plain cheap lost and found clothes.

I saw Margot and Amélie suck in their breath when they saw me.

Margot immediately commented, “Now I understand why you were wearing a hoodie and formless clothes when walking alone on the streets. That was a wise choice, girl.”

“Thanks”, I answered. I immediately thought, “So I need to start worrying about this now?” I immediately recalled how I behaved when a really beautiful woman passed by and how other males sometimes reacted. Some were just howling at the moon at the sight of a beauty. “Oh, not this… I’m not ready to cope with this. Please let this all be over quick.” I thought, dreading it already.

The officers escorted me back into the main area of the station, to wait for a lift to the hotel. If I hadn’t seen myself in the mirror, I would have turned around to see if there was anything special behind me or examined myself thoroughly for clothing mistakes. The attention I was drawing was very unsettling, much more than I expected. In my mind I was very much a healthy male and other males looking at me with clear lust in their eyes was just plain ‘wrong’. I doubt even a tenth of them would be able to tell the colour of my eyes. This was not ok. Not ok at all. I felt like the ‘me’ in me was rendered to nothing. Packaging failure!

The hotel

Soon enough Amélie came with a folder holding all the papers of my declaration and some more legal information documents.

“I have added a paper stating your identity and the loss of your identity card. It is not an official document since only your country can issue such a paper. Nevertheless, it will be enough for most cases during your stay here. I hope we can find your suitcase and trolley.”, Margot told when she joined us.

“Thank you very much! It would be very hard to get in my hotel room otherwise.” I was lying sooo hard. The papers wouldn’t help at all, it would only create extreme confusion. And if I turned back, how would I explain all of this?

“Let us escort you to our colleagues who will take you to your hotel.”

They handed me over to two police officers, a man and a woman, who guided me to their car. They didn’t show much interest in me and I barely talked either. I was too busy trying to figure out how I would continue from here.

Police cars are nice if you aren’t cuffed or a subject of suspicion. My hotel was a rapidly approaching challenge, increasing my anxiety once more. I guess it would be too much to ask, if I conveniently had the opportunity to go to the bathroom, succeeded in relaxing and came back out as my normal self so I could easily claim my room.

It was a scenario that would increase the horror even more. I saw it clearly play out in my head. I would enter the lobby and the five or more people, including the receptionist would have their eyes glued on me while I was looking for the toilet sign. I would then go to the toilets in total doubt which one to take. Men’s restroom or women’s? I would finally enter the women’s restroom since all eyes were still on me. Afterwards I would lock myself in, do some breathing exercises, relax, and, of course, it would work. Which was actually a big question mark. I still didn’t have any grasp on how the transformations ended. Only a certainty on how they were involuntarily triggered. I would return to my male self. Then I would have to walk out of the women’s restroom in the female clothes everyone saw me enter it. I would present myself in my completely normal female outfit to the receptionist and everything would be peachy. He would give me my room key without asking any proof of my identity and wish me a “Good night, sir. Have a great stay”. NOT!!!

The two police officers escorted me to the lobby. I was mentally hyperventilating, sprinting away screaming while crossing the sound barrier, being swallowed by a black hole, shredded to infinitesimal particles by panic, and yet, calmly walking inside with my papers in my hands.

“Thank you, officers. I’m very happy that I safely got here.” I bid them farewell. They returned the goodbye and left me alone, standing in the lobby.

“What should I do now?” I thought. “I only have the clothes I am wearing right now, I don’t have my ID, I only have my phone and my banking card. I don’t even have anyone I can call.” I tried different scenario’s in my head but they all ended with me sleeping under a bridge. I was not nearly brave enough to try that one. Besides running away and shivering in anxiety, I had one major skill. The skill that got me my job and made me good at it. A silver tongue.

I walked up to the receptionist who was already watching me. Or staring at me. Together with three other males and one female. The latter was throwing me more a judging look than a tongue-dropping-out-of-the-mouth look. I approached the desk.

“Do you have a reservation on the name of Julian Murray by the firm ‘Monetize-IT’?” I asked.

“I’m sorry miss, but I can’t give any information on people staying in this hotel”, the receptionist responded. He looked at me with pleading eyes. As if he was scared to cave in if I asked further.

“Apologies, sir, I didn’t mean it that way.” I responded with a heavy sigh. The sigh was faked. Having the receptionist on the wrong idea might actually be helpful to convince him of my upcoming lie. Lies are less easily spotted if you are confused.

“I don’t want to inquire about Mr Murray. Mr Murray isn’t coming. I got sent here last minute by our company to replace him. My co-workers could have confirmed it, but I got separated and got caught in the riots down town.” I explained. “I have the confirmation mail of the reservation right here on my phone.” I concluded and showed him the mail. Which was easy. It was my phone and my mail.

The receptionist studied the mail and looked up the numbers on his computer with a confused look. “Nobody warned us about a replacement. Not even your colleagues who are all accounted for.”

I just waited in silence, biting my tongue. Knowing that keeping my mouth shut was way more powerful than any explanation that might have holes in it. My entire story was one big hole. Not a single bit was true. Not even the part that Mr Murray was not coming. He was standing here. More or less.

Finally I pulled out my last card. Compassion. “Please sir, it’s been a very rough day for me. After the flight I got caught up in the riots. Some yellow jackets nearby attacked the police and the military. I have spent the last hours on the police station being interrogated. People got shot down right in front of me. And they even had to gave me this letter to confirm my identity. Because I don’t even have my ID card any more. In the chaos my trolley and backpack got lost. I got hit by a water cannon and my clothes were damaged. I’m wearing lost and found stuff they gave me. Can you just confirm my arrival, fill my name and let me go to bed?”, I looked at him wide-eyed and pleading.

The receptionist looked at me wide eyed. “Merde, quelle histoire!” (Damn, what a story), he muttered. “Ok, we’ll sort out all details in the morning. I’m sure it’s all ok.” He caved in. “After all, you know about the reservation, you have the mail, and a police report confirming your riot story.” He convinced himself. “Can you give me the identification document the police gave you?” “Can you also give me your home address?” He could have read it from the paper, but he really wanted me to repeat it, which I did.

Once he stopped resisting my story and charms, he was quite friendly. He even gave me his personal phone number for if trouble would arise.

About a half an hour later I was lying on the bed, fully clothed, staring in the dark. Afraid. Again. I was afraid to fall asleep. I was afraid to stay awake. I was afraid about the consequences if I turned male again. I dreaded the possibility of staying like I was now. I finished by undressing completely, and diving under the blankets. I just had no way of knowing how I would wake the next morning…

I was completely spent. It didn’t take long for the fatigue to best any other feeling or transformation hunger and I sank away in the satin caress of bedsheets against my smooth skin and a soft matrass underneath me.

SilverStars

Sorry for the delay. I promise to try to post another chapter in two days. The boxes are still stalking me. They are still overpowering me. But writing this story is a force on its own all together. Happy reading! I do hope you will warn me about mistakes in grammar, spelling, names, etc. And please leave some motivating comments, they really make my day!