By this point, it would be unreasonable for me to claim that I didn’t find this display just a little hot, and while my stomach was doing backflips and filling with butterflies—which required a great deal of skill and coordination on the part of the butterflies to maneuver in such conditions—I almost missed the warm tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the glowing ritual circle was doing, but despite the entire preamble leading up to now, a part of me hadn’t expected this to actually happen.

To be fair, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting to happen. That a camera crew would appear out of the woodwork to confess their cruel prank maybe? That Alzette was really just here to taunt me for my stupid desire to be a… A girl. I was going to be a girl. That was more than a little terrifying. And weirdly, more than a little thrilling. What would my friends and family think? Would other girls immediately recognize me as an imposter? ...Would I be pretty? 

If I had to be a girl, it made sense that I’d want to be a really pretty girl, right? With long hair that was maybe just a touch darker than it was now and a cute face with dimples and maybe some light freckles too. Definitely with nice curves and a little on the taller side, but not like too tall. Honestly my current height was pretty much perfect if it were on a girl instead of me. I shook my head. Alzette had promised me that I’d be ‘the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen’, and I was going to hold her to it.

Speaking of the devil, I was brought back to reality by the sensation of the succubus straddling my thighs, having been patiently leaning over me this whole time. Her pillowy thighs were soft and warm against my own, and it took a serious amount of will to actually focus on the parts of her that weren’t indecently close to my nethers.

“So,” she said as my eyes met hers, “we can do this two ways. I can just sit back for the next twenty or thirty minutes while the ritual does its work, untie you, and leave. Or…” she gave a smile befitting of her demonic heritage, “we can do this the fun way. I could certainly use the pick-me-up, and these things tend to go a little faster with someone guiding them. What do you say?” Her own attention wandered several times as she kept sneaking glances down at the unmistakable tent in my boxers, a carnal hunger slowly creeping into her expression. 

It’s not like I actually wanted to be turned into a girl or anything, but clearly there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. So when I instead treated it as an inescapable inevitability, then really the choice became a simple matter of either waiting around doing nothing for the next twenty minutes, or having sex with a really really cute succubus who was obviously into the idea. With that in mind, the answer seemed pretty clear.

I had to turn my beet-red face away from hers to actually give her that answer though. “I wouldn’t mind you uhh… helping. You’re really pretty and the um, fantasies usually involve something like that, so it’d only make sense if you were to—”

My embarrassing confession was interrupted by a very undignified groan as she closed the carefully calculated distance she’d created between our respective crotches and I suddenly felt the warmth of her pelvis pressing against my erection. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll have you know that us succubi are quite talented at making fantasies come to life.” She gently smirked, leaning forward until her impressive chest was entrancingly squished against my own. Only thin fabric separated her skin from mine. I could feel her heartbeat mingling with mine, its steady rhythm juxtaposed alongside my own wild beating making it very clear she was the one in control here. 

“So about this little ‘fetish’ of yours: I'm guessing you’ve been jacking off to the idea of being or becoming a girl every time you masturbate since… well probably since you started puberty, am I right?”

“I—I umm! It’s... That’s!” My face couldn’t decide whether it wanted to pale as white as a sheet or flush as red as a tomato and I think it tried to do both. “H-How did you even know that?” I whispered, honestly scared to know the answer. 

“I could lie and say it’s a succubus thing, but no. I’ve spent more than enough time around trans people who used to think the same way you do to make an educated guess.”

She really went and said it, huh? She had to bring up that word. It’s not like I had anything against transgender people—one of my close friends from college was trans—it’s just that I wasn’t one. The thought alone of said friend possibly learning that I got turned on by the idea of transforming into a girl made me want to shrivel up and die. There’s no way she wouldn’t hate me for fetishizing her real actual experience if she ever found out. “Th—That’s different! Look, it’s really just a fetish, okay?!”

“Here’s the thing: It really isn’t. I’ve been with literally hundreds of men and I can promise you that men don’t constantly want to be women, in bed or out of it. Sex means being vulnerable, physically and emotionally. Usually it’s with another person, but sometimes it’s with yourself. That can be the only time when your inhibitions and shame disappear for long enough to be honest about what it is you really want. Don’t you think that only being able to enjoy sex while picturing yourself as a woman might mean something about how you feel towards your current body?”

I couldn’t even look Alzette in the eye. Having these perverted fantasies was supposed to be what disqualified me from being trans, right? And now Alzette was saying that they were actually evidence for it all along? Did I really even have to sort out these feelings? I mean, she was actively changing me into a girl as we spoke. Couldn’t I just avoid having to think about whether me wanting it meant something?

But if I wasn’t really transgender, then me having a girl’s body would probably end up giving me dysphoria and make me feel terrible, right? This was a horrible idea, wasn’t it? All of the things I knew were screaming at me to tell Alzette to put an end to this charade. It was the smart thing to do. It was the right thing to do.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I… I wanted this too much.

“Besides,” Alzette mercifully continued without forcing me to answer her question, “You wanna know who else is into the idea of having sex while being a woman?” she asked with an excessive eyebrow wiggle. She waited just a moment, purely for dramatic emphasis. “Me: A woman! You want to be a girl in the bedroom, sure, but that doesn’t mean you don’t also want to be one outside of it too.”

“M-Maybe, but it’s not like I’m actually a wom—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” She put a slender finger to my lips, her face inches from my own. “I don’t care what kind of lame excuses you’ve been making for yourself until now, but you’re not allowed to do that anymore. Not while that ritual circle is literally reshaping you into the person you’re meant to be as we speak. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do what your mistress tells you?”

I think my brain short-circuited for a moment. Specifically when she called me a ‘good girl’. Even when tying me up, Alzette hadn’t really seemed like she could command anyone to do anything, but now her energy was totally different and she had me completely under her thumb. Or under her heel. “Y-Yes Mis—” I winced at the gravelly sound of my voice. “...tress.”

For just a fleeting moment, I had lost myself in the fantasy—I had believed her. But how could I pretend like I was a girl when everything about me was so utterly inadequate? Could her magic really fix what was such a fundamentally flawed foundation?

Alzette must have noticed my distress, her imperious expression softening to one of gentle care. “A cute girl deserves to have a cute voice, isn’t that right?” She smiled before brushing her plush lips against my collar, planting a tender kiss that left my skin hot and tingly in its absence. Then she planted another just a little higher than before. And another. And so on, moving up my neck with an almost agonizing slowness until she reached my adam’s apple. There her kiss lingered, the heat building and concentrating in a single spot. The sensation was just on the cusp of pain when I felt the flesh there shifting, acquiescing to Alzette’s touch as it receded further and further. The tingling turned inwards and I felt something in my throat tighten like an off-key instrument finally being tuned.

I gasped at the wholly alien sensation, the rush of air alone enough to tell me that something about my voice had changed along with it. Just as I was about to open my mouth and find out what, her finger once again returned to my lips. Alzette’s grin turned wicked as she cocked her head in faux-contemplation, “What’s your bet? A husky contralto? A silvery soprano? I’m dying to know what you really sound like.”

I didn’t understand her seemingly contradictory actions until I heard the sound of fabric tearing and looked down to see Alzette’s claw-tipped finger effortlessly slicing through my boxers with the same precision a surgeon might wield a scalpel. A moment later and my modesty was suddenly exposed to the open air, embarrassingly hard and lightly glistening with precum. 

I felt her warm, deft hand on my shaft before I even had a chance to react, slowly stroking up from the base with a practiced expertise until her finger reached the underside of my head and I—

The sound that escaped my mouth was utterly indecent, wholly unprofessional, and it was music to my ears. We both seemed to forget what we were just doing for a moment as the moan left my lips, and the grin spreading across Alzette’s face matched the one I realized I had on my own. It was rich. It was sensuous. It was like honey. And it was mine. 

“Is…” Wow. “Is this what my voice really sounds like?” It was, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get tired of hearing it. I sounded like… like a woman. One day I’d listen a recording of it and it would almost certainly sound slightly different and probably a bit worse than it did in my own throat such that I would insist that no, I don’t actually sound like that only for my friends to insist that yes, I actually do sound like that, and even then it would still be the most incredible sound I’d ever heard.

“Oh my. Not what I was expecting, but goodness. Like. A. Glove. Well now I just have to get you to make more cute noises like that, don’t I?”