Novel & Cerita Crossdress Fiction

It was really absurd everytime u think about my life as it is now - which was almost every second - so absurd that I'd have laughed if I wasn't the victim of the whole craziness. First I get rejected. Then I have sex with my gay best friend. Then I find out he's not gay, but a spy from another pack. Then he goes ahead to tell me he loves me and proposes to me. Madness. Total madness, honestly. Dear goddess, what next? What would come out next to mock me and the joke I've obviously become to the universe? “No matter how hard you tug, the dress won't get lower than that” Jax said with a slight chuckle and I glared at him.

The dress I wore was so thin and small that I almost felt their eyes watching my privates. "She looks like full of juice," Kruz's comment made me look away in disgust. I wouldn’t have worn this dress if it wasn’t for the ritual. "Lift up your dress," Kruz came in front of Prince Conrad, who hadn't spoken a word till now. "I said grab your dress and lift it up all the way to your bre**ts," Kruz was shamelessly licking his lips as he kept mumbling to me. Every step he took near me resulted in me taking two steps backwards.

I outlined my plan vaguely, as I untied the string that held the dress secure. ‘Maybe you haven’t forgotten how to be a dom.’ Chesed taunted. I rolled my eyes because I was not going to even reply to him. I have better things to do. Crista gasped as I slowly pulled the fabric away, leaving her bare to me. Realization hitting me, this white lace bra and pantie set must be new. No way had Crista borrowed these. They fit her ample breasts perfectly. Which only got Chesed and me both thinking the same thing. ‘She was commando this morning.’ Chesed groaned. “Fuck…” I groaned, running a finger along the edge of the bra.

They could only be present for cheering on the racers, which was why I have to cross-dress. As soon as the clock struck 12, I got up and tiptoed towards Krystal’s room. Only after I was sure that she was fast asleep did I go back to my room. I removed a small suitcase that hadn’t been opened in a long time from the closet. Inside were some male clothes I had purchased years ago. I took out black pants and paired it with a black tee. Because I have a curvy bust, I needed to wrap it with three to four layers over to make it appear flat.

Christmas is only a few days away. ‘Well, I dildoed up.’ ‘You what?’ ‘Bought some strap-on stuff.’ ‘You are crimson.’ ‘Are you surprised?’ I squeaked. ‘And you look as though you have a hard-on.’ ‘Are you surprised?’ he growled and crossed his legs. ‘So, what happened?’ ‘I met him in a no-lights LGBT club. I pretended to be late, and while he was waiting, picked him up, as a bloke, seduced him, and him thinking I was a bloke, I took it up the – you know.’

“Oh sweetie, it’s all just one big fucked up mess to you, right? Don’t worry, I’m not trapped anywhere. It’s just ‘Fake Drug’ used to be some serious gender-benders themselves. Have you heard their lyrics? And the front man used to perform in dresses sometimes when they were younger, and he was smoking h-o-t in them. Rest assured, I won’t be the only cross-dresser in the crowd.” I hum thoughtfully. “Not your typical hard rock band.” “Exactly, and I love that about them.” “Where did you get this dress?” He shrugs. “I bought it.” “It looks expensive.” “I have savings.” He rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t ruin the experience. I also bought the shoes.” He puts one foot on the seat, and I catc

"Yes, a pig, Joan. He will be your stuntman." "But it's… a pig." He chuckled at the look that she was giving the pig. "Not for long." *snap* And with another snap of his fingers, the pig changed to an identical copy of Joan. The just transmuted pig was looking around, and with another snap of fingers, its eyes dulled a little and it went still. The 'new' Joan then went near the wall and layed down. The manacles slithered to 'her' feet and snapped in place. And then it went to sleep. Joan was watching all of that with a shocked expression on her face. She had just seen a pig appearing out of nowhere. Then it, the same pig, changed it's body to an identical copy of her own. Same clothes, same

Let dozens of hands claim what my mind kept insisting was mine. I will prove she was nothing but a paid body, another transaction to satisfy my cock. Then I will walk away clean. While she slept, I slipped a note into her room. [Wear the white dress. Nothing underneath. Be ready at 8 PM. -D] At exactly eight, she stepped into the hallway. The dress was sheer white silk with thin straps, backless, clinging to every curve like a second skin. Under the light, it turned transparent, her nipples dark shadows against the fabric, the faint outline of her bare pussy visible with every breath.

The fantasies grew darker, more daring. “Entry Twenty-Two: I’m at a crowded gallery opening. A black dress, backless, slit to the thigh. A man, a patron, wealthy, older, drops his champagne flute. As I bend to help pick up the shards, his hand slides up the slit of my dress, finding no barrier. His fingers push inside me, right there on the floor, as people mill around us. He whispers, ‘Such a well-mannered cunt, dripping for anyone who looks.’ He fingers me to a quick, violent climax, my body shuddering as I try to gather glass with trembling hands. He helps me up, licks his fingers clean in front of me, and walks away.”

She uploaded one called: “The Fox and the Fire.” A fictionalized confession. A Dom’s slow surrender to a shadowy admirer. A figure who watched from the edges, sent gifts, knew her body like a map, and promised nothing but ruin. She tagged it: #fiction. #maybe. #dangerouslove. It was read 4,400 times in the first hour. At midnight, a comment appeared. From FoxGlove-44. “I love when you write about me.” Her hands went cold. Part VI – Red Ribbon Dreams