Novel & Cerita Forced Crossdressing Story

Cross could feel the growing damp spot on his clothes and he wanted to explore the place that was currently leaking all over him. He walked her over to the couch and dropped her unceremoniously. She squeaked again as her body bounced on the cushions. "That dress doesn't cover anything. Take it off." He demanded while he stared down at her. She pulled the dress over her head, she also shook her braids free of the ponytail she had been wearing. She sat there naked before him, her large breasts sagged slightly and her pussy had a low patch of dark curly hair protecting it from his lecherous gaze. He wanted to take a closer look. He fell to his knees in front of her.

With listening. "There were people attacking him," I continued. "It was in Kaldor, the capital. I was there and I was close enough to help, so I did." I looked down at my hands. "I brought him to a place where he could get better. I cared for him while he was healing, and because he was a man and I wanted him to be comfortable, I… I pretended to be a girl while I did it." The words came out in a rush now, the dam broken, everything flowing too fast. "I didn’t know who he was. He was just someone who needed help, and I was there." "You didn't know?" Carl asked, his voice soft.

Now, all at once, it hit me that everything I had given over the years had been nothing more than a one-sided effort. I was just about to book a flight when I realized I had forgotten my ID and passport, so I had no choice but to return home. The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by a mess all over the floor. Leftover snacks were scattered everywhere, along with half-finished dishes left behind. Right by the bedroom door lay something impossible to miss—a box of levonorgestrel pills and a piece of wine-red lingerie. Willow had never liked being physically intimate with me. Even Naomi's existence had come from a drunken incident.

With each piece of clothing they took from my body, it felt like a petal was ripped apart from its stem. Where each petal represented a piece of me, a piece of my soul. I felt vulnerable, I felt broken. Nothing was left in me because there was nothing to hold me together. By violating me like this I felt like there was nothing left to fight for. These men could do whatever they want. No amount of pushing, kicking, or yelling would keep them away from me.

This was more fruity on a subtle feminine than the masculine side. We were fighting each other; myself struggling to keep this going while he wanted to break it up. It felt like I was stronger and winning. Slowly, I traced down from his chest to his pants, fumbling with the zip. The door flung open, followed by a bone-breaking punch landing on his cheek. "How dare you touch my mate, Cross!"

It is not like he will be around much longer, as I have already unintentionally bridged him to his mate. That is correct, I make bridges. These are spiritual and magical bridges for others to cross to that which they sometimes want, need, or desire. I only found out a few weeks ago that I have this ability. Prior to that, I had thought I was cursed. You see, every time I get involved with someone, they find the woman they end up with. They break it off with me. Oftentimes, they just ghost me. It is rude and pathetic, but most people lack bravery and basic decency.

One thing that has confirm the man's identity is the crown hanging on the left column of the bed. "I know crossbreeds has no home they belong to. If you agree..." "Crossbreeds are strong. You people fear me--"Aria made argue hoping to lift up one steel of her prison cell. "Hmm-mm...Yes, yes, yes! But-" The man stands up and went to her again. He raised her chin using his index finger tip and whisper, "Can you defeat an outlaw King?"

“While we’re filming those love scenes today. Think about my hands instead of the script, think about my mouth on your neck, my fingers sliding under that dress.” Izzy set her bag down, breathing faster. “This is wrong, I’m married. I shouldn’t even be listening to you.” Vic closed the trailer door behind them. “Then tell me to stop. Look me in the eyes and say you don’t want me to touch you.” Izzy met her gaze, lips trembling. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Vic stepped closer, voice soft but commanding. “That’s what I thought. Your body is betraying you, beautiful. Your nipples are hard, I can see them through your dress.”

The small closet was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, wet kisses, and the rustle of fabric as they desperately dry-humped like animals. But then Ethan suddenly pulled away, breathing hard, lips swollen and shiny. Reality crashed back in. “We’re going too far,” he gasped, voice shaky. He felt stupid. Weak. Pathetic for giving in like this. “You’re trying to get between me and Whitney. This isn’t fair.” Marcus’s eyes flashed with low-key pissed off heat the second Whitney’s name left Ethan’s mouth. He grabbed Ethan’s wrist before he could step back, voice rough and angry.

But with triumph. And beneath that, a flicker of something else—possession. Marceline forced another smile, her spine straight despite the weight dragging at her chest. She was now Mrs. Cross Dejeva. And this was not the beginning of a happily ever after. This was the prologue of a beautifully disguised war.