I’d been fantasising about what I’d do when I got home most of that day. Fondly thinking of the new skirt I’d gotten. Imagining how it would feel to wear it. Hoping that if I wore it I’d look girly enough to make it exciting. It would... probably.

Maybe I should shave my arms and hands, I mused, as I fumbled with my keys. I already regularly shaved my legs, after all. Then again, that was because no one would know — I only ever went out in pants — and that wouldn’t be the case for shaving my arms. People would see, and people would judge. 

It was... probably better if I didn’t, as much as it irked me having all that thick hair there when I was having my... umm... weirdo horny time.

With a click, the door opened, and I felt myself relax a bit as I entered a more private space. I didn’t need to be quite as worried about what other people thought in here. In here, it was only ever just just me and Rick. Not the entire campus. And he was odd enough that I knew he probably wouldn’t care if he did catch me. (I stopped peeking into his room eventually the first time I smelled the incense and saw the strange symbols he had everywhere.)

I didn’t trust him to not tell people, no, because he did have friends... and I didn’t actually want him to see, but... I did still feel safe here to do what I wanted. Safer than I would have if my roommate had been, like... some jock, or a guy obsessed with guns, or worse, some guy whose goal in life was owning people on the internet.

I tossed my backpack over a chair and stretched quietly, listening for whether or not he was in his room. There was a chance he wasn’t, in which case I wouldn’t need to worry about him, either. Complete safety. No one to judge.

Okay it was time.

In a flash, I was in my room, the door shut behind me, my ugly normal clothes stripped off. I carefully pieced together my ensemble — the matching bra and panty set (black of course, the bra padded with folded up socks), the shirt (my favourite, a v-neck that was tight around my middle and just loose enough in just the right way around my shoulders that it would help make them seem a bit less broad), the new skirt (purple and ruffled and admittedly a bit short, but in my defence, it was hard to get them as long as I needed with my height.) Finally, I pulled on two of the long, white socks I kept specifically for times like this, relishing the feeling of them sliding up the smooth skin of my legs.

And then I was ready for the makeup. I always tried to keep it simple, because I knew how liable I was to mess it up, but no matter what I did here it always felt... wrong. Which was annoying! The tutorial videos always made it seem so easy. Tricks like “use an orangey colour, like from lipstick, to hide your 5 o’clock shadow” just didn’t seem to work. Maybe I was “blending” wrong. Who knows.

It was easiest just to give it my best, then pointedly avoid looking at my face. It was everything else that would get me feeling excited anyway. Which was the entire point of this, wasn’t it?

It took another five minutes or so to finish my makeup, and then I quickly looked back away from the mirror. Didn’t want to stare too long or else I’d get too grossed out and lose any motivation I had for this. And then it would be depression time instead of horny time.

It was time for the reveal. I pulled out the full-body mirror from my closet, placing it against the wall, then took a few steps back. 

The skirt was pretty. And the fake boobs always did a lot for my lack-of-figure. 

I put my hands on them, trying to ignore the hair. Then I stopped trying to ignore the hair and instead I pictured it was someone else cupping them, which was much more effective. These were my boobs... this weight on my chest, it was me. I just had to trick myself for a short amount of time. Just long enough that... 

Maybe I could imagine these were Rick’s hands cupping them, actually. (Was that inappropriate? He didn’t exactly consent to being in my fantasies... It was probably fine...)

I turned to the side, looking through a curtain of hair to see the semblance of curves I’d managed to achieve today. There were the boobs, obviously, and then the skirt flaring out did a lot to make it seem like I had nicer hips, too. Yeah, that was a worthwhile investment...

I still wasn’t really getting that horny this time, though. I couldn’t help but be annoyed at what I was seeing. It just... wasn’t good enough. Even with the new skirt. I needed better than this. I was too addicted to the process. Too addicted to getting better at this, to making myself look more and more like a girl.

It had started feeling like I was reaching my limit, though. What else could I even do? I needed to shave my arms. I needed to figure out how to style my hair in a girly way temporarily, I guess? I needed to... get better at makeup. How could I even do better than this, though? It all felt like a lost cause.

Why was I even doing this? Why did I feel like I had to do this to get any amount of horny? Why did I need to have horny time so desperately in the first place? 

Why was I so dependent on something so impossible? 

It sucked. It really sucked. I was such a weird pervert and I hated it. I wished I was someone—

And then there was a single knock and the door pushed open.

“Hey Tom, I’m about to go to the cafeteria, do you w—”

I didn’t say anything, just staring at my roommate. The secret was out.

“Oh,” Rick said. “I… I’m sorry. I should have... given you time to respond to the knock.”

I let myself fall backwards onto my bed, careful not to let anything be visible up my skirt. I knew that even if I wasn’t really that horny… it still felt at least a little hard, and I knew there was a strong chance that if I wasn’t careful my roommate would be able to see it. And there is no way he’d want to. I know I sure didn’t when I looked at myself in the mirror.

He probably didn’t want to see any of this, for that matter. Even for all my practice, as was very obvious, I still looked like an ape in drag.

“It’s fine,” I finally said, after a minute, my voice hollow. “I expected you to find out eventually.”

He shook his head fervently. “You shouldn’t have had to be worried about that! This should have been something you told me when you were comfortable telling me. Do you… want me to forget? And you can reintroduce yourself later when you’re ready?”

“Reintroduce…?” I mumbled. What did that mean? Reintroduce myself as a perv? Publicly? As if I’d ever want to commit literal social suicide. “It doesn’t matter, Rick. It’s my own fault for being like this. Believe me, it feels as bad as I’m sure I look. Just… leave. Go to the cafeteria and have your day like normal. You don’t need to ‘forget’, as much as I’m sure you want to.” I chuckled darkly, looking down at my stupid, giant, hairy hands clutching the edges of the pretty skirt. “Nothing can fix this.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and eventually I looked back up at him to see an expression full of pity and sorrow. Like someone kicked his dog or something.

“Do you… want me to?” he finally asked. “Fix it, I mean.”

I scoffed at him. “What do you mean? Do you have expert makeup skills or something?”

“No, but—”

“You know what? Sure,” I interrupted. “Whatever. If you think you can make this,” I gestured across the room at the full body mirror I’d set up for my… session. At the hair too short to fix. At the makeup that I could never figure out how to make completely hide my stubble. At the eye makeup that always felt… off. At the lipstick that honestly made me feel even worse. At the low-cut shirt that was too tight around my shoulders, at the boobs on my chest which were really just socks in a push-up bra. At the hair on my arms and legs. At my horribly huge hands and feet. At my blocky figure. At… 

I sighed. “If you think you can make any of this better, sure. I don’t have any idea how you’d do it, but… god, if I knew how to do this better, maybe I wouldn’t have to hate myself quite so much for constantly doing it.”

“It… uhh… might make you a little horny,” Rick said, hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “Is that okay?”

“Well… yeah?” I said, confused. Wasn’t that the whole idea? I was one of those guys that gets off to this kind of thing.

“Alright,” he said, then began to squeeze my shoulder.

“Ow,” I complained, looking up at him to find his eyes closed… in concentration? 

But before I had time to consider that, I felt a strange sort of lurching feeling, and simultaneously, the socks in my bra started to hurt my nipples. Ugh, I must have done too much crossdressing lately. They were chafing again already…

And still, Rick was holding my shoulder tight. It had started to feel kind of... sensual, him doing that. And then there was another lurch, probably from him pressing down, and all over my body my skin felt like it was tingling, like I had goosebumps everywhere. That sensual feeling of him holding my shoulder like this... I guessed now my body was responding to that. And now… it was feeling hard again…

This was… starting to be kinda gay, wasn’t it? Ugh. That did not sound appealing. I tried to pull back a little, to get out from under Rick’s hand, but rather than that happening, there was instead another lurch and both he and I together fell back onto the bed. And suddenly my roommate… he was straddling me.

“Um,” I squeaked. This felt really gay now. What was he even doing? I’d thought he had some sort of idea for making me look more like a girl for my weirdo alone time but instead he was just squeezing my shoulder and shoving me down and now straddling me?? 

Was this his idea of making me feel better about myself? Because feeling like I was a gay man because of the… stiff object in my underwear was not making me feel better. It was making me feel worse, actually.

Finally, Rick opened his eyes back up, and loosened his grip. “Cute,” he said, smirking down at me. My heart palpitated in response.

My roommate pulled his hand away from my shoulder and put it on my stomach instead, and suddenly it was obvious just how… warm it felt. It almost felt like waves of heat, each making my insides feel like they were expanding and contracting, my skin tingling…

The lurching feeling happened again, and I cried out, my nipples in pain from the motion. I needed to take those socks out.

“You okay?” Rick asked, his voice near my ear, his breath tickling.

“The… socks…” I gasped out.

“Socks? What— Ohhh.” With his free hand, my roommate began slowly pulling one free, and… it felt far more caught in the bra than it normally did. The angle, mayb— 

I gasped aloud, another squeak. That chafing had gotten my chest so sensitive this time! The amount of sensation as he did that was… something else.

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” Rick murmured a moment later, as he simultaneously extracted the other sock, and I cried out a third time. That… did not sound like a sound a guy was supposed to make. It sounded… hot. I didn’t know I could even make sounds like this.

Gasping for breath, I tried to focus back on his question. My name? “I don’t…” I trailed off. 

“Haven’t chosen one yet?”

Chosen a name? For when I was being a weirdo?

And then there was another lurch… Rick was above me, now, straddling me on top of the bed, and I found myself staring up at his neckline, instead of his face.

“Tiny one, aren’t you?” he said. “Since you don’t have a name, maybe that’s what I’ll call you. Tiny.”

“Don’t call me that,” I grumbled, except it came out a lot more whiny sounding than I’d intended.

“Well you’ve gotta give me a name then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hand on my tummy, and I realised then that he’d started doing it on my skin directly, instead of over the shirt. 

This was so freaking gay but it also felt so hot?? Why was I okay with this? I was so confused.

“Ti-ny,” he said again, and shifted upwards even more with a lurch, giving me mostly a view of his pecs through his tight shirt.

“Anne,” I gasped out, finally, as he continued to rub at my tummy. “Annabeth?”

“Anne,” he repeated, and I felt my face flush. 

Why had I said that? That was stupid. Why did I need a girl name for this? Why was this even happening? “Wh-why... I don’t...”

He pulled his hand away, shifting downwards so our eyes could meet. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” I said, and felt my face flush even more. I liked this... I liked this. I actually wanted it to continue.

Rick smiled, then ran his fingers slowly, sensually up my shirt, sneaking under my bra, rubbing over my nipple with his thumb. I whimpered aloud, a high-pitched whine. How did that feel so good? What in the world was he doing?

And then he leaned down next to my ear again, and whispered, “Does that feel good, Annie?” And right then he pinched my nipple!

I cried out, and I did not sound at all like a guy when I did. I sounded like a girl. I sounded like… Annie.

And… my roommate was treating me like her, too, I finally realised. This entire time… This wasn’t gay. This was straight. Right now, I was the girl.

And the tightness in my underwear was enough that it literally, actually hurt. It hurt even more than my nipples had just a minute ago.

If only I didn’t have to worry about that. This would be so much more enjoyable if I really was just a girl. I could be as horny as I wanted, I could literally get fucked, and… I wouldn’t have to feel that… stupid thing there.

“Annie?” my roommate whispered, gently biting the edge of my ear as he drew circles around my belly button.

“Mmm?” I hummed, enjoying the sensations and trying to ignore the feeling down below.

“Do you… mind if I…” he said, his fingers trailing towards somewhere… dangerous.

I winced. “I… are you sure you want to do that? It’s so… gross…”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reassuringly. “Just imagine it’s already what you actually want, okay, Annie?”

“Okay,” I said, my voice small. I… did want something different, didn’t I? Which along with everything else was… saying some things about my identity, wasn’t it? Maybe it wasn’t just that I liked looking as much like a horny girl as I could. Maybe it’s that I… maybe it’s that I was a horny girl.

Maybe I really was Annie.

And Annie wanted a pussy.

Rick put his hand over what I really had there, though, pressing down, squeezing it against me. And surprisingly… the hardness that had been bothering me so much… it all melted away. I still felt horny beyond belief, but… with his hand there, it felt different. With his hand there…

It felt like with careful positioning of his fingers he could totally trick my brain into thinking I really did have a pussy.

I couldn’t help but idly rub my legs together slightly at the idea, right as he pulled his hand out from my skirt, and this time went one later deeper, his fingers nearing that dangerous place with no layers in between.

I felt like… This was weird, but... I felt like I needed something inside me. I knew it wasn’t actually possible, I knew I didn’t have that anatomy, but... there was an ache there. I wanted it. I wanted something. Fingers… a tongue… something else.

If only it wasn’t just him pressing his hand down onto me that could give me the illusion of having something else there. If only he could actually…

And then his fingers traced up me, up a part of me that my brain failed to really comprehend. Where even was that? And then he pressed a finger — no, two fingers? — against that spot, and somehow… I was confused. I didn’t understand how I was feeling what I was feeling. This didn’t make anatomical sense but it felt so good and it felt like I was getting my wish how was he doing thi—

“Aaaah!” I cried aloud, my voice a high soprano, the highest I’d managed yet.

It didn’t even feel like it was possible what he was doing with his fingers. He was so good at this that he’d made it feel like he was using his fingers to play inside a vagina I didn’t even have. 

“Rick…” I whimpered. “I’m so… confused.”

“How come, little Annie?” he murmured back, flicking a part of me I didn’t understand that caused a rush of pleasure to utterly envelop me.

“I-I feel like…” I gasped out, after a moment. “I feel like I’m a real girl.”

“You are,” he said, kissing my forehead. 

“No I’m not,” I argued. “I’ve always been a guy.”

“You can’t just snap your fingers and a boy becomes a girl, Annie. When someone’s a girl, they’ve always been a girl.”

I flushed again, staring up at him. Well… no, staring up at his shirt, as his chest rumbled with his words, wishing ever more by the second that he wasn’t wearing it.

“And what are you, Annie?” he asked, his finger ever so softly rubbing something very, very sensitive.

“I’m… a girl,” I whimpered back.

“Good girl,” he said, and I came.

The feeling snapped through me like lightning and flushed my entire body with sensation; arching my back upwards towards him; my chest heaving with a surprising amount of weight.

And as I slowly, ever so slowly, came down from that high, he whispered in my ear one last time. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Just as you always should have been.”

I didn’t say anything for a while, still recovering from that experience. Still recovering from the amazing feelings this wonderful man had made me feel. I couldn’t believe it was possible to feel like this. I wasn’t sure I could go back to what it had felt like before.

I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing my real reflection in the mirror again, instead of the Annie I’d found it so easy to picture myself being while getting finger fucked.

And with that, I started to cry. I… didn’t want to be a guy anymore. I didn’t want to have to be Tom, the stupid ugly perv. I wanted to be Annie, the cute girl. I wanted to be a girl for the rest of my life.

“A-are you okay?” Rick asked, his voice suffused with concern. “Should I have… should I have done that differently? Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head, burying my head in my hands. “You were amazing, Rick. So amazing. I didn’t deserve that. And I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how I can go on knowing what that feels like. I don’t want to be a boy anymore. I want to be Annie. I want to be a real girl.”

“You are a real girl,” he said again, now sounding confused. 

“I mean… I want my body to be like other girls’.”

“It is,” he said.

I stared at him, my tears slowing to a stop, mostly because of how confused I was now, too.

“What?” I asked. And then I realised how high pitched my voice sounded when I talked. I felt the weight on my chest that shifted as I breathed. I felt my pussy still tingling.

I opened my eyes and looked down, and l saw a completely different reality than the one I’d left.

I sat up and I stared at the mirror, and instead of the body I’d had my whole life sitting next to my roommate… Instead I saw a girl sitting next to him. A very dishevelled girl, a girl that looked just as finger-fucked as I felt.

“How… what???” I whimpered, wiping my eyes. I looked in the mirror and I saw my long, red, wavy hair. I saw my tight shirt and short skirt. I saw my high cheeks and button nose. I saw tasteful, if a bit mussed makeup, not even bothering to cover a 5 o’clock shadow — I didn’t have one.

I saw Annie.

I saw me.

The boy next to me winced. “Umm… a bit of magic?”

“Magic. Actually, really magic,” I repeated.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his head. 

“I just got turned into a girl with magic,” I said. “Or, well. I got a body I like with magic,” I corrected, before he’d have a chance to correct me first.

He nodded again.

“How lucky am I?” I asked, turning towards the mysterious boy that had drawn out dreams of mine I hadn’t even yet understood. “Like, compared to all the other girls like me. How many of them can have something like this?”

“Not many…” he admitted. “But you looked so dejected, so frustrated at reality. I wanted to see who you could be.”

I felt my face flush again, and I looked down at my new, smaller, thinner hands. I didn’t need to shave anymore, I realised. They had hair, but it was so faint, so thin, that... it didn’t matter. 

“Thank you,” I said. “I didn’t deserve it, but thank you.”

“What do you mean you didn’t deserve it?” he asked.

“I could’ve gone on my whole life without realising I needed this. I could’ve gone on and on fetishising being a girl without ever realising I was one. I could’ve gone on my whole life like that, when I’m sure other girls like me are struggling day in and day out knowing just what they need and never how to get it. That sounds awful. They deserve this, Rick. Not me.”

Rick shook his head. “It’s not a competition, Annie,” he said. “You deserve to feel pretty too. And there’s other ways of realising your identity in the flesh than using magic. You just got a shortcut.”

I pursed my lips, staring at my reflection again. Then at the mage I’d somehow stumbled into rooming with. He was smiling down at me.

Finally, I gave him a small smile back. “Okay, fine. Thank you, Rick.”

“Of course,” he said, then stood up. “Anyway, I’m sure you have business to attend to, now that you’re… well. You. I’m going to go to the cafete—”

“Oh you are, are you?” I asked. “So you’re going to give me a taste of those hands of yours, and then leave me to sit, imagining how the rest of you must taste?” I licked my lips.

“I mean… I didn’t think you were really signing up for that to be quite as… well… sex as it was,” he laughed. 

“Well, now I am,” I said, crossing my arms. “And this time we’re taking our clothes off.”

He grinned. “Yes ma’am.”