Friday, 4 March 2011


I've always wondered if I could write fiction and it seems like a good way to explore my desires, so tonight I began to write the beginning of what I hope will be many short stories exploring the different forms my fantasies have taken. Here is the first part of the first story, the most common fantasy I've had, as I imagine it might play out if it happened in reality and presented in first person, present tense. I'll continue it in my next blog post.


Wakefulness tugs at the corner of my mind, reminding me that I was asleep as some already-fading dream of random nonsensical events begins to dissipate. I’m not quite conscious yet but, like a slowly-brightening light, my self-awareness begins to reinstate itself, reminding me of where I am as I lay half asleep, dozing in the softness of my blanket.

The glow of warmth is comforting and my body is not quite awake yet. As I lay there on my side, the last remnants of slumber releasing their grip on me, it occurs to me that I’m noticing a soft sensation of hair draped against my lower shoulder blade and pressed beneath my ear and under my left shoulder, contrasting the texture of the fabric of the pillow case I’m half-hugging.

I begin to feel the beat of my heart, its rate increasing slightly as an impossible concept entertains itself momentarily at the edge of my consciousness and my attention shifts to an unfamiliar weight and pressure against and inside my pectoral region; a feeling that shouldn’t be there. Rolling just slightly onto my back as I move my hand up to investigate, a sudden realisation crashes over me like cold water and I shove myself into an upright position and reach for my face with both hands.

The skin of my cheeks is smooth, soft even. The familiar coarseness of the stubble that I normally expect above and below my top and bottom lips and on my chin is gone and the blur of some volume of hair invades my left and right periphery, coinciding with a soft sensation as it shifts over and against my shoulders and settles down my back. Barely a second has passed, yet the moment draws out as I feel the alien weights on my chest settle, my hands dropping to meet them, my heart rate increasing further.

I have breasts.

Ecstasy begins to form in the pit of my stomach. Still, only a few moments have passed.

My hands and fingers wrapped around the bases of breasts that shouldn’t be there and my head spinning slightly from the sudden change to my now-upright position, I press softly, experiencing the slight shift and give of tissue and noticing the slight tensioning of upper skin as I relax my hands and let the weight of my breasts reassert itself.

My breasts. I feel dizzy as the thought crystalises.

As I allow my hands to drop away, my right palm brushes against my nipple. With the caress of skin against protruded skin, a small spark shoots down through my body. A small, subtle not-quite-explosion hits me in a lower place, highlighting the absence of a normally-familiar firm sensation that has greeted me almost every morning since puberty.

But not this morning. My heart is pounding in my chest.

Hesitantly, savouring the moment that I now know is forthcoming, I slowly slide my right hand down the smoothness of my stomach as my left hand unconsciously returns to rest on the lower half of my right breast. Exerting a discipline practised through countless fantasised replays of this moment, I force myself to keep my gaze forward, raised slightly, so as to keep the first experience of what is coming isolated to that of my touch.

My hand pauses at my waste line, slightly below my navel, then proceeds to slide down; slowly and controlled. My finger continues, slower now, pushing over, parting and crossing soft, short hairs as I reach the base of the place where my skin should harden and hook back upwards.

Instead, as I am now fully aware that it will, my finger moves through- and past- a strange absence of what I have been used to my whole life. The sensation of a few moments earlier returns, this time like a dimmed light being brightened gradually then, as I approach the center of the missing shaft, the pad of my forefinger slides inbetween a crease of skin.

I tense and breathe in sharply for a brief moment as a million tiny sparks explode, emanating through my legs and abdomen before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared, goosebumps left in their wake.

Shaking ever so slightly, I push down a little further. The twin walls of soft skin, sparse, fine hairs adorning their sides, part as my fingertip slides into a softer, moister area of depressed skin.

My breathing is faster now and I vaguely notice that each breath in- each breath out- feels different; lighter, slightly more constricted, though not uncomfortably so and the sound does not have the hollow masculinity I’m used to.

My heart is racing as I turn my hand sideways, the pad of my fingertip rotating against the warm, sensitive texture of the skin and I pull downwards a short distance. My fingertip glides gently over a small, hardened bump and I gasp as another wave of pleasure, much more pronounced than before, ripples outwards through all of the surrounding muscles and dissipates into the farther regions of my body.

I pull my hand away, recalling the imagined version of this moment and the way I’d always played it out in my head, remembering that each moment was to be savoured and with that thought, the brimming ecstasy I'd been feeling over the past few seconds suddenly wells up within me, tears quickly forming sobs as what has been bottled up for years- decades even- now finally begins to release and I cry; deep sobs of raw emotion- relief, excitement, shock, gratitude and happiness with the ecstatic realisation that what I have dreamed of my entire life has finally been made manifest.

I am a girl.

A girl.

I am a girl.

My head is spinning with the incredibly welcome shock I’m feeling and, as the tears subside after a few minutes of uncontrolled release, I rub my eyes to clear my tear-soaked vision, take a few breaths to compose myself and make an attempt to begin investigating this new physical reality.

To be continued.


  1. lovely story. You do have a talent in writing.

  2. Very talented, Sarah. And while I must admit its quite the turn-on, I feel more of a sense of liberation.

    Good work. :)

  3. You do have a terrific writing style Sarah, keep writing, both your fantasies and your stories... it's a fantastic outlet as well... Ray Bradbury said once, "A writer writes, Always..." good advice...
    As one who has a book published, The Enhanced: TRI, a book with possibly one of the first Bi-Gendered characters written, I know the rush of have a gift Sarah, keep it up.
    Diana Howe
    "Looking Forward, Moving Forward"

  4. Hi Sarah,

    I really enjoyed this beautiful, tenderly sexy story.

    I do hope you write more stories.

    I've also read your other blog entries. They are very well-written, thoughtful and interesting; not overwhelmingly academic or political, but honest personal expressions. It is helpful for me to read such observations from a fellow crossdreamer, so thank you for what you have written, and again may I say that I would love to read more.

    Best wishes,
    Deborah x

  5. 真愛旅舍午夜視頻聊天室