Transsexual Stories Novels & Stories

I'd been fucked and doing the walk of shame back home. The next night she dressed me and we went out to a trans club. She showed me the backroom and left me there having pulled up my skirt, pumped my tits, and took off my panties. In garter/stockings barely there bra, my hair styled and dried like a girl, made up fully. When I left the back room and went back to my table, she gave me my skirt and blouse. Everyone there knew I'd spent an hour back there. I'd been fucked three times by three different cocks, and sucked off two more. It was dark I didn't know who they were. With me coming out of the room undressed, everyone knew what I was. That night we were back in bed.

By evening, I was too restless to go home, so I gathered a few files and decided to find a café where I could lose myself in work. As I passed Central Park, my thoughts returned to him, circling the same question again and again, what if I had spoken up sooner? What if I had not waited for the perfect moment that never came? Then something in a nearby shop window caught my attention. A sign read: EXPLORE YOUR INNER ESSENCE: TOTAL TRANSFORMATION STUDIO Beneath it, in smaller print: Professional services for cross-dressing, gender expression, and personal transformation. I stared at the display. Two mannequins stood side by side, one dressed in a sharp suit, the other in a flowing gown. Their

I wasn’t sure if it was because of his silly face or it was my body’s post-response to all the tears that I’ve shed. “Have you ever tried wishing for a new life?” His voice became serious and he gave out a warm yet dodgy smile. “You know, Japanese and Korean comics have been too popular as of the moment because of its reincarnation or transmigration stories. Have you ever wished to experience the same thing?” Scenes from the stories that I have read flowed in my mind smoothly, it was as if someone intended that I remember it. In a slow manner, I nodded at him. “Well, I’ll lie if I say I didn’t. But I know it was just a fleeting dream.” I faced the window—silently asking to end our conversati

The plumber untied his hands and said, “You might want to lie on your back now. Legs spread wide for me.” Shamelessly and without thinking twice, Nath did as instructed, spreading his legs open and holding his cock with both hands. All he just wanted was a release. He no longer care if he was considered gay. The events of today had gotten rid of any prejudice he had ever felt towars being gay. He just wanted to be fucked. He moaned as he felt the man's cock about to penetrate him. “Careful now there, love,” said the plumber. They both moaned as the man entered him and began a slow grinding, pushing to his hilt.

BLAIRE The bathroom mirror didn't lie. My neck was a map of dark bruises, and my pussy throbbed with a heavy, relentless ache. I stood under the spray of the shower, the hot water hitting my sensitized skin like a thousand needles. I watched as the milky remnants of Raymond’s thick cum swirled down the drain, mixing with the steam, but I couldn't wash away the intense, complicated realization settling in my gut. I wasn't just Manuel’s widow anymore. I was the center of a storm I had walked into willingly, a woman caught between two brothers who wanted to claim every inch of the life I had left. I must confess ,I like every bit of it

Despite our friendship, Meredith still didn't understand the balancing act that transgender women like me went through. My entry into middle age had heralded in a new chapter in my journey of sexual self-discovery. I had moved on from anonymous "fuck me" hookups fueled by Internet message boards to slightly-less-anonymous encounters via online dating sites. It had been months since I had run away from that swamp, tired of the constant "Transgender 101" I found myself teaching, my ego bruised and battered from men who abruptly went silent on me the minute they discovered I was trans. As I mentally ticked off some of the more-unpleasant rejections, my inner monologue grumbled that the hassle s

But I lied that it was an internal reaction. Ever since I escaped my dad's clutches, I tried hard to never take pictures because I didn't want to leave any digital traces. I got a customized T-shirt with an LGBT slogan, and Harrison found a seat for me before excusing himself to join the organizers. People shared powerful stories that touched my heart. They struggled with mental health and hearing the struggles and triumphs of some of them brought tears to my eyes. Even though I identify as straight, I could relate to them. I was more or less in my closet of lies and deceit about being a human.

“But you are, aren’t you? Nikki said you were a journalist?” “Well, I’m working on it.” Cole was doing it again. She took a breath and went on. “Actually, I’ve had a piece accepted by Milieu.” “Congratulations. Harper loves Milieu, though, of course, she pretends she doesn’t read it. They approached me not too long ago. But I tend to avoid interviews wherever possible.” “Is it weird? People wanting to ask you a bunch of questions?” Poppy tucked a lock of hair back into the knotty thing she currently had going on. “I think it’s more… it’s always the same questions. I know it’s very selfish of me because I do care about transgender rights. But sometimes all I want to be representing is me.”

Witches aren’t afraid of being misunderstood. The site is a forum for anonymous storytelling. I’ve been scrolling through it for weeks, posts from strangers that feel like confessions whispered in the dark. Survivors of things no one else believed. Wives writing about marriages no one would envy. People who carry entire wars inside their bodies and still find the words to put them down. I click “New Post” and my heart pounds in my ears. Title: He Married My Womb, Not Me. I don’t overthink it. My fingers start moving.

When the last of the cum was out of her mouth, the brunette stuck out her tongue to show that it was all gone and turned towards the door. That was the first anyone noticed me. The brunette girl wiped her hand across her lips and just sort of gave me a look. I wondered if she was looking down at my blue pants and seeing the raging boner I was sporting. That was, like, the hottest thing I'd ever seen. Even with all the weird stuff that had happened to me that day, this was the strangest. I was aroused... you know by people. Maybe I wasn't just transgender, maybe I was transsexual (and hey, is that a better way to use that word? It makes more sense, like heterosexual like opposite sex, homosex