Kacey Pink 2022/07/03(Sun)20:18 No. 1036978 ID: 4ef090
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I looked at chips at my drug store. I held a tall can of soda in one hand and my prescriptions, already paid for, in my other. My second year on estrogen had come and gone, and while I enjoyed my journey it still felt, unfinished. My black hair was up in a ponytail, with spring rains ending and summer fully on us I was able to wear shorts and shirts again. Allowing everyone to see my glow in the dark, scrawny little white chicken legs.
Not that it mattered much. I was far too insecure to take off my sweaters or jackets, no matter how hot it was or how hot my best friend Sam claimed I looked without one on. I couldn't separate myself from a strange, lingering dysphoria. Shorts felt good, I told myself, it felt good to present feminine. Then again, it never really hurt to present masculine. But that was common right, nothing really fits anyone, right?
"Do you have work today?" Sam asked me, looking at the employee at the end of the aisle pretending to face products. It was supposed to be a college town, more liberal.
"Yeah, sorry," I said. Pulling a big bag of chips off the shelf.
"Was hoping to hang out," Sam said, smiling. Her smile always made me smile back. She wore a zipper hoodie like me, but that was always her style. Stoner, skater, low effort chill aesthetic. Her curled black hair hung over her left eye. Parts of it were dyed green and white. It was shaved down on the sides, down to the scalp. It was like a mix between a mohawk and an emo cut she saw online. She put her hands into my jacket.
"I'll be free after work," I said, as she leaned against me. "Just working the projector is all."
"You'll be working something," she said, smiling wide.
"Wh-whatever dude," I said, smiling back. "Why don't you get a job too?"
"I did, remember?" Sam said. "The afro-feminist liberty book store."
"Lib shit," I said.
"Mhm, insufferable lib shit," Sam said. "The old white manager asked me if I'd been to Africa yet."
"Fuuuun," I said with a laugh. "But you're getting paid?"
"Of course," Sam said, pulling her hands out of my jacket. "Tips are good when you're the only black person in a lib book store like that."
I laughed again, "I guess, I wouldn't know."
"Mhm, you're just oblivious to it all," Sam said.
"I try not to be," I said, clearing my throat. My feminine voice was making my throat sore.
"I didn't mean it like that," Sam said. "You're just… up in the clouds most days."
"Mhmm," I said, dragging Sam to the line.
"Like a cute little puppy dog," Sam clarified. "Or a helpless lamb."
I swallowed. "Am, I'm helpless?"
"Next," the cashier called to me. I chose not to speak, letting my voice rest so I could hopefully maintain it for a bit longer.
I walked with Sam to the counter. The cashier looked her over, as his coworkers had. Watching for her to steal something from the front of the register. Sam stared at the cashier in the eyes, knowing full well what was happening when she entered the store. So brave, I thought, looking at my best friend. She could be herself without fear of what others thought.
The weight of eyes on me standing at the counter made me squirm. I pulled my sunglasses off and searched my purse for money. No, I thought to myself. That's dumb lib shit. She doesn't have a choice but to be proud in the face of it, stand against the fear and the hate. In a world like this, in a white-nationalist nation there was never freedom from it. You had to steel yourself, and steal peace from those who wouldn't give you room to breathe.
"Is that all sir?" The cashier asked. And I was too weak to steal, helpless.
"Yes," I said softly, handing a ten dollar bill over. The voice was another attempt in many. A summertime resolution that I could grow to embrace femininity more whole heartedly. Mostly, it just felt fake. Not really me. I hoped it would fade. I didn't have pride like that, nothing I would scream about myself into a fascists face. What's does it matter? I would just continue to coast through college, lost in myself until I wasn't.
I watched the cashier count change over the register, while I looked down to the counter. My too big bag of chips and drink on the counter above a display of scratcher tickets. "Here you are sir," The man said, before counting out my broken down ten.
I poured the change into my cross body bpurse, a little blue and purple camo fanny pack, and folded the bills with my others. I followed Sam who looked angry as she exited the pharmacy ahead of me.
"Fuck that guy," Sam yelled.
"Wh-why?" I asked, confused.
"He misgendered you!" Sam said. "Are you okay?"

__________________________________

How do you feel about being misgendered?

Probably on purpose, fuck that guy. Fuck'em all.

Haha, whatever. Those assholes are beneath me.

I can't believe it. I try and I try and still...

>I can't believe it. I try and I try and still...
seems like no matter what I do people see me the old way, not the way I am now

>Misgendered by a retail worker
It's not his job to determine someone's gender. Though you're moderately pissed off.

Unless the dude was on autopilot, probably on purpose

Kacey Pink 2022/07/06(Wed)16:57 No. 1037233 ID: 4ef090
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((TRIGGER WARNING::: the following post features a scene of workplace coercion for sex. The scene is blocked via a spoiler.))

____________________________

"Yeah," I said, laughing it off. "It's fine."
"Are you sure?" Sam asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.
It's always like this, no matter what I did. I thought. I keep getting invested in new things, trying my hardest and still I don't get seen for who I am. Makes me just want to quit. You crossed the street in silence, heading back to the apartment you shared. I'll just continue to flounder won't I. You feel Sam pull at your arm.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," I said feeling myself return, if only a bit. "Just dissociating a little."
"You're not okay," Sam said.
"I'm fine. I don't really care that much," I said. "It's not his job to guess my pronouns correctly."
"No," Sam said. "He knew, he knew."
Our house was behind a block of shops, an old butchers shop and an Internet cafe. I would visit the cafe late at night. I knew the guy who worked the later shift. They didn't mind staying open later while I wrote my papers for college, usually because we'd play death match after. "You think he was targeting me?" I asked.
"Probably," Sam said. "You're not a man."
"Yeah, I know," I said as I unlocked our front door.
Our building was split in two, the first floor and the basement. It was small, but a two bedroom. Cheap, thanks to a deal we had with the landlord in the basement. I sat on the couch in our living room looking up at the ceiling. If you were born woman, would you still be trans. Would you want to be a man. No. If I was a woman, I'd just be myself. "You're sure you're okay?" Sam asked.
"I'll be fine," I said. "I'll be alone in the projector room all shift."
"You're running that action movie?" Sam asked.
"Prawndator 2," I said. "He's in the tank with a few ways to krill," I repeated the poster line.
"Prawndator was good," Sam said. "That Angela Schwarzenegger, she could predate me."
"Yeah, they wanted me to do the red reel tonight too."
"You don't want to?" Sam asked.
"I mean," I said. "I don't know. I don't like the skin flicks they show. They're dumb and old."
"It's classic," Sam said.
"It's straight stuff," I said.
"You don't put it together different in your mind when you see it?"
"Like how do you mean?" I asked.
"Dudes and women," Sam said. "You don't look at it from how you'd... ya know, how you'd like it? Use it to fantasize your own."
I took in a deep breath, "I guess."
"It's not like you have to enjoy it," Sam said.
"Yeah, work is work," I said.
Work was work, no one enjoys it. Even if it's something you love, capitalism will exploit your enjoyment and poison it for you. I dressed in my red polo and black slacks, like every employ had to wear. "See you," I said to Sam as I left. She was reading, studying for her summer classes. The theater was on the other side of our little portion of town. Walkable, but I took the bus to make it on time.
"Stand closer to your razor," My manager said loudly as I punched the clock in the break room.
"Wh-what?" I asked, putting my punch card away and feeling my face. Stubble. I hadn't shaved before leaving the house.
"I'm just playing with ya, Calista," he said, laughing. "You look good today."
I stared at him. He had a wiry mustache and a bad hair piece. He was probably as old as my dad, if not older. I left the break room, unsure how to respond.
I looked good, but... I... but he said I needed to shave my face. I rubbed my chin as I walked up the back stairs of our tiny theater. Less than an inch of hair across my face. I used to hate it. It would worm it's way into my head, and if I felt it even casually or by accident, the sound of stubble against my shirt even, was enough to make me seethe with a powerful disgust of my own body for hours. But I felt nothing today. I could try, try, try for years and I might never pass to everyone. Might never pass to anyone. I just wanted to feel like a woman at the end of the day. Stubble didn't make me less of a woman. CIS women had facial hair. It just wasn't this thick. I fiddled with my keys forgetting once more that I had visible facial hair.
I entered the room and locked the door behind me. The room was small. A single metal shelf along one wall and a desk for film repair. A row of theater seats ran along the opposite wall. The projector took up most of the room. It faced out a wide window towards the screen. I pulled the reel I'd be showing, Prawndator 2. Yellow tape wrapped around the canister read "First showing July 23rd 1990 6 pm." I drew a knife from the shelf and cut the canister open. Guess its the twenty third, I smiled. Damn it feels good to not be worried about essay deadlines.
The movie was already ready to go. I loaded it into the projector just as my manager had showed me how to do it months ago. It wasn't particularly hard if you were careful, and I'd been doing it now for almost a year. The projector room was easier than cashier, but I would still have to help clean the theater. I only had about four coworkers per shift, and the theater only had two theaters. I looked at the clock above the door, little arms glowing the dim light.
I clicked the lights off in the projector room and sat in the dark. I could hear people milling around down below. I looked down at the ground floor as people filed in. Sitting in the ten or so rows of seats. In the dim lights of the theater I could see people arm in arm. Dates, people sitting together, holding hands, sharing popcorn and little drinks. I wonder what Raquel is doing, I thought to myself. She would probably prefer a romantic movie, touch my arm like she did whenever there was a kiss on screen. I would fail to... I closed that box as soon as I felt it opening.
I turned the projector on and the trailers began to play. Did I really not hear that guy in the pharmacy misgender me? Was I more worried about Sam? Or did I even care? A knock rapt at the door, and my manager opened it. He walked in looking at me an then the projector. "Okay," he said. "You were able to do it."
"What do you mean?" I asked, stepping away from the projector window. He looked sweaty, like he struggled up the stairs. I looked back to the theater as the first images of the movie began.
"Just checking in on you," he said. He wore the same outfit as me but he somehow made it look sleazy.
"When have I done it wrong?" I asked.
"Just, you know, making sure," He said. "Damn don't get so emotional man."
"You're paying over time for the red reel showing?"
"Yeah, of course," he said. "You think you could handle it though?"
I looked at the metal shelf, reels on the bottom had red duct tape on them. They were older, from the 70s.
"I'll do it," I said. "I'll survive."
"Mhm, okay, well," He said. "Let me know if you need any company for that film."
I stared at him again, unsure how to respond.
"Or I could dock your pay," he said.
"What?" I said.
"If you're not willing to be a team player," he said.
"G-get out," I said meekly.
"Don't you dare raise your voice at me! I could fire you, you know, and then where would you work?" He laughed as horns and drums began to thunder through the theater, the screen displayed "the 20th century wolf" logo. "I'm doing you a favor here freak, the least you could do is repay me," he said.
He left the room, slamming the door behind himself.
I slumped into the chairs along the wall, holding my head in my hands.
Loud cybernetic noises played in the theater, shaking my chair under me.
After a moment, I stood up and dragged the film repair desk across the room. It was so heavy I could barely move it. I used my whole body weight to drag it in front of the door. I pushed the arms of the chairs up and laid across the seats. I tired to block out the loud explosions of water based violence that unfolded on the screen below me.
I couldn't work here after that, not anymore.
Where would I go, and what could I do. I had to help pay the rent.

__________________

I don't need this job, this stupid, stupid shit. I could find a better job.

I should slash his tires and key his car, he deserves much worse.

I would never be able to find a job like this again.

... He cannot be innocent of everything other than employee abuse. You know he would be a hollow monster if he was insanely capable of being perfect and chose to throw it away just to be a dick to insignificant beings like you.

Sneak into his office and find evidence of Neo-Nazi afflictions, or mass embezzlement, or some other stupid crime that he recorded for the ego trip.

You should leave! You don't need to take this kind of treatment from anyone.
There's gotta be something out there that's better than this, anything.

Orange, better to struggle for a better life.

Red.
But like, not keying his car. Lett's tell his family and friends about him wanting to do that stuff to you.
I'm sure he will think twice about pulling that stunt on someone again.

Kacey Pink 2022/07/09(Sat)15:02 No. 1037502 ID: 4ef090
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My shift that night was otherwise uneventful, my manager didn't try to join my in the projector room again. I was thankful I didn't see him as I clocked out after the red reel, did see his car though. I put my hand into the large pocket of my purse, the white zipper maybe a whine as I pulled it open. His car was a tiny corolla. He had an NPR sticker on his back window, child booster seat in the back. I didn't know if I could have ever brought myself to take revenge, but I knew I needed to do something. I couldn't just let him get away with it.
No, if I slashed his tires or anything, if could be linked to revenge I might lose a job opportunity later. I could find a better place, even I would miss the movies. It was past twelve, the last bus ran two hours ago. Walking wasn't too big of a chore, but it was so dark. Especially after the events it felt like too much. Enough street lamps were on. Enough windows were lit. Where there wasn't a lot of light, in breaks between the street, the moon helped me too. It was nearly full, heavy and bright.
I looked in at stores, empty and only lit by a single lamp. I looked into the Internet cafe, and Xavier waved at me. I couldn't help but smile and wave back. I'd have to go play deathmatch some time. The butcher shop's back door was open, the light was on in the back, and someone was standing in the dark of the building smoking a cigarette.
I got home after about half an hour of walking, Sam was already asleep. I collapse into bed and didn't move until a phone call rang through the house. I got up and walked to it in the living room. It rang. Beedleedleedlee. And I just watched it, the dark plastic body, the green screen that said "Willamette Cinema." Beedleedleedlee. Until it transfered to transfered to the machine. Krchunk.
"Hello, this is Sam and Calista, sorry we can't come to the phone," I said over the recording.
The machine let out a long beep.
"Hey Calista," my manager said, the same greasy voice. "No call, no show, you can't just do that. Pick up the phone already."
I picked up the phone, "Hey," I said into the phone.
"Calista," He said. "Why aren't you here?"
"You know why? You fucking pest," I said, what crawled into me.
"Excuse me?" My manager yelled loudly.
"I don't want to work with someone like you!"
"What, you fucking freak?" He yelled into the phone. "You shoulda just fucked me like I asked! I would have payed you!"
"Goodbye," I said, smiling wide.
"No! You're f-!" I hung up the phone before he could finish.
"What was that?" Sam asked, leaning out of her door.
"Just a filthy worm," I said. "Manager tried to pressure me to fuck him last night."
"Oh geez," Sam walked out and hugged me. I ran my hand down her back. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah," I said.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
I looked at the answering machine's little light glowing with a new message. "Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."
I called my manager's boss and told her about his advance, and about the tape. She asked me to send it to her, but that she couldn't grantee I'd get my job back in time for my position to remain open. I received a small payoff from the head office and I just didn't pursue it.
* * *
Sam kissed my back, and my shoulders. "You don't have to tell me how you're doing," she whispered. "I just care about you."
"I know," I said. "Sorry, it's… I'm okay, really."
"You don't seem okay?" Sam asked, spooning me naked in bed. "Seems like you're taking it pretty hard."
I sighed, "Maybe."
"Let's go out," Sam said. "Get your mind off it."
"I-I don't know," I mumbled, under the sheets.
"What if I call Raquel?" Sam asked.
I felt a smiled rise through the mire of my week of stagnating. "You think she'd want to see me?" I asked.
"I think so," Sam said softly, tucking in behind me.
I smiled, "Yeah, I guess, could be fun to see her."
"Just ya know, don't expect more than what she wants to give." She squeezed me to her naked form.
"That was never the problem though, Sam," I said.
"What was the problem?" Sam asked.
I sat up and slid to to edge of the bed, "I thought the goal was to get my mind off bad stuff?"
Sam touched the small of my back, "Yeah, sorry."
"Don't worry about it," I said pulling some shorts on, a simple T-shirt.
"I'll call her, and we can go thrifting, you always like that," Sam said with a smile.
"Yeah, you know just how to take care of me," I said. "If you were into dating, I'd have married you by now."
Sam laughed as she left the room, "I love you Calista, but not like that."
"I know," I said, aro. This would fix me right, I thought, I could get out after this and look for a job.
I listened to Sam on the phone. What will she say, will she really just show up for something like thrift shopping. "Hello, hey Raquel," Sam said. "Yeah, yeah, good to hear from you too."
"I understand," Sam said. "But hey, I was wondering... yes." Sam laughed. "Yeah, I'm sorry."
Sam didn't seem to get a negative reaction, I thought.
"Can you come and see this girl?" Sam asked. "I know, I'm sorry."
I felt my guilt expand, like a spring that had been so neatly pressed down inside me. Month old regrets pushed away recent trauma. It felt like my heart was flopping down, down, down, like a slinky down a flight of stairs, then down a wall. I'm such a piece of shit. "What did she say?" I asked as Sam entered the room again.
"She said you would feel worried. She told me she's not mad," Sam said.
I sighed, "That's what she told you, but I'm sure she's pissed."
"You really hadn't call her?" Sam asked.
"W-what more was there to say?" I asked. "She broke up with me."
Sam sighed and put her clothes, strew across my floor, back on, "Well, if it's of any worth... she's missed you a lot."
"Maybe enough?" I asked.
"Geez," Sam said. "I don't know Calista."
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, tired eyes and pale face. Didn't have the energy to do makeup, to try something only to have it fail, but I shaved quickly. My hair had grown long, still didn't really know how I wanted it cut. I tied it up in a pony tail again and pulled a sweater on for the hot weather outside. Sam looked at me from the couch, "Ready?" Sam asked.
"I guess," I mumbled.
"She's picking us up," Sam said.
"Cool," I said sitting on the couch next to Sam. I turned on the TV hoping the news would fill my worried brain instead of my own voice. You're gonna fuck this up, even this small sliver of an outing. You're not gonna be enough. I sucked my teeth and stood up. Chicken shit, anxious little nose bleed.
"You're gonna be okay," Sam said.
"Yeah, I know," I said. Can't even pick your own damn ass of the ground.
Raquel knocked on the door, and I opened it. She stood on the other side, wearing too much makeup for a low effort thrift store visit. Her tan skin blemishless, eyebrow meticulously done. Her long wavy hair was swept to one side of her head, and she wore a pair of high waisted shorts that reminded me how good her legs were. She was just a bit shorter than me, but had curves like crazy. Thick, worship worthy thighs, a cute belly, soft arms, and a very visible cleavage in her current torn up tied up shirt. I could feel the memories of her skin on mine escape my lips in a gasp.
Raquel's eyebrows bounced as she looked up at me, "Yeah?"
"S-sorry," I laughed. "You look good."
"Mhm, so I heard," Raquel smiled, adjusting the hood on my sweater behind me. Her arms touched my shoulders and neck, always found an excuse to touch me. "Ready to go?"
I looked away as her arms rested on my shoulders. I thought I'd faint, the shivers that ran up my spine.
"Yeah," Sam said. Tying her converse. "Let's go."
We piled in the car, Sam smiled at me as she go into the back seat. The trip was mostly silent, occasionally busting stupid little sarcastic jokes about signs. Raquel didn't seem to be faking it when she laughed at most of them. "Cleatus's Car wash," I said in a goofy accent. "Keep it in the family, with our sister stain blocker."
"Bad," Raquel said with a laugh.
"Sorry, cousin couchie scotch guard," I corrected smiling at her.
We pulled into the thrift store parking lot and piled out. We stayed together scanning the racks for anything cool. Raquel found a nice dress and a cardigan. Sam found a funny shirt or two, but mostly picked out pants for winter. I didn't really find anything. Shirts seemed flimsy. I looked at shorts, Raquel was supportive. "I like your chicken legs though," Raquel said.
I laughed and fingered across other hangers as I walked down the isle. My fingers gripped tight on a fabric, it wasn't a fabric. I looked at it. Leather, deep purplish, almost brown color. I pulled it off the rack. A thick leather jacket covered in patches.
"Why is that here?" Sam asked. "It's so ugly."
I squeezed the hanger through the jacket. It was so heavy. The leather was dense, closer to metal than animal hide. I looked at Raquel. "It is pretty ugly," she said with a laugh.
I draped it over the rack, looking over it closer. There were two side pocket like most jackets, a button pocket on the left outside the side pocket, and a zipper pocket on the right in the same place. A zipper pocket higher up on the left. It had wide lapels with metal buttons that pinned them in place. A belt that hung down on each side, latched in the middle. The main zipper was slightly right of center, the tab was large. It even had those shoulder straps. Most of the zippers and buttons worked, except for one of the outer pockets. All the metal was a worn kind of gold brass. It had at least twelve separate arm and back patches.
The ones on the arms were names and places, shapes and logos associated with them. "Saucy Sound, Seattle, WA," a silhouette of puget sound. "Berry Door, San Diego, CA," a purple door. I felt myself growing warmer looking at the names and the different logos. What history did this jacket hold. "Back Pocket, San Francisco, CA," a little pair of hot pants. "Susan's palm, Phoenix, AZ," a tall palm tree.
"Gay bars," Raquel said pointing at the patch that with a barrel. "I've been there, lots of ladies."
"Her Reserve, Portland, OR," I said. I ran my finger over the embroidered barrel. I flipped the Jacket over. A large patch of a wolf on the back, snarling, it looked like a classic sailor tattoo. Four pin-up girls flanked the wolf. They wore boots and cowboy hats, holding ropes or the guns on their hips. I felt my face grow more red as I ogled the embroidered women.
"No way you're thinking of getting that ugly thing," Sam said with a laugh. I flipped the jacket over again, looking at the inner lining. It was a mixture of coarse, vomit colored plaid, and a smooth, bright orange tiger print.
"Try it on," Raquel said. "You have to."
I laughed holding it to my chest as I made my way towards the dressing room. I pulled it on in the solitude of the dressing room, over my sweater. I didn't realize how hot I was. I took my sweater off and put my jacket back on. It felt like a bloody carapace, a shell turned out to the world. My shirt was so damp with sweat. I had hardly felt it before. The inside of the jacket was cool on my arms, the fabric soft. I examined the arms, it fit well enough, but it was big. She must have had some real muscles. There were dagger patches on the insides of the forearms.
"How are you doing?" Raquel asked.
"Hold on," I said. I took the jacket off once more. I looked at myself in the mirror, scrawny, messy tired. I quickly took my shirt off freeing my scrawny arms, and my little roll of stomach. I adjusted my black sports bra, before I put the jacket back on a third time. The dark purplish leather, OXBLOOD. The jacket was so heavy on my shoulders, thick enough enough to stop bullets and knives. Based on the stitched cuts in the sides of the leather, probably not though. "Is this too much?" I asked, opening the door.
Raquel looked at me standing in the doorway. I'd never felt so free of fear.
Her eyebrows flat as she bit her lip. "You took of your shirt?" Sam asked confused. Raquel grabbed the lapels of the jacket, and pushed me back into the dressing room. She pressed me against the wall and kissed my neck.
"H-h-ahah," I whimpered.
Sam smiled at me and closed the door.
"Th-th-at good?" I whimpered as she sucked on my neck. Her fingers slid into the jacket as she touched my soft sides and belly. Her hand moved downward. "F-fuck," I gasped as she grabbed the outside of my shorts, feeling up my growing bulge. I was thankful I hadn't even tried to tuck. She stroked me through my pants and began to bite on my neck.
Raquel surely thought about this, wanted to touch me, to try and get close again. But this was moving fast, but not too fast. She undid my shorts and let them hit the floor. Her other hand slid up, pushing my bra over my tit so she could kiss and bite on it. She gripped my tool and began to stroke it downward. "J-jesus Christ, woman," I mumbled.
Raquel stopped and looked up at me, wordless.
"D-don't stop," I said, with a laugh. She chewed my neck again and I grunted in pleased shock. Sam wasn't able to stir me in the week I'd been bed bound, much to both our frustration. This was a bit more adventurous, more blood flowing.
"F-fuck, Raquel," I whined.
"Cum for me," she whispered into my neck.
It was over, I could feel my pelvic floor clamp as I gave her what she asked for. My cock head flexed in her hand and I shot a thick string against the inside of her thigh. It dripped down her calf. I grunted and took slow breaths trying not to make too much noise about it. "M-more warning would be nice," Raquel said.
"Sorry," I laughed. "J-just following orders."
Raquel pulled a napkin from my fanny pack, knowing I'd have some. And wiped my cum off her leg. She smiled up at me.
"S-so, you li-like the jacket?" I asked with another laugh.

______________

What's on your mind?

Confidence is attractive, surely that what it was.

I hope I get to get her back soon.

Do I really deserve this kind of attention?

The jacket seems to breath a new air of confidence in you!

Do you really deserve this attention? You know you shouldn't think this way, but the feeling is strong

Begin vomiting.

Jacket is comfy and warm

((Please don't feel discouraged to share your feelings or thoughts. I'm hosting this quest in a longer form than others do theirs, and I'm fielding input differently as well. But that doesn't mean I won't listen to input of any kind. While the plot is more linear than some quests, how it unfolds is not set in stone. Calista can be influenced to feel and react to things differently. Things you suggest might not happen right away, but they can happen later. I have a running list of the inputs so far, some of them might show up in ways you may or may not expect. Thanks for all your input so far. Hope you enjoy what comes next.))

Kacey Pink 2022/07/14(Thu)16:49 No. 1038193 ID: 4ef090
File 165784254606.png - (7.46MB , 4000x2667 , OXBLOOD 4.png )

Raquel leaned up and kissed my neck, and I touched her side feeling her body through the texture of her shirt. "Yeah, it looks good on you," she whispered. "You seem pleased with it too."
"Pleased?" I asked. "I guess... I feel good," I said. "It feel safe, warm."
"Yeah?" Raquel said, wrapping her hands around my neck. I slid her hands up her back feeling her bare skin and leaned against the wall, supporting her weight.
I could feel that confidence in me, it had raised like a flag. Or maybe my worries had fallen away, like a putrid cliff face. Do I deserve this kind of attention though? I thought, instead old worries took their place. They flanked me so quick I could barely tell. How long could I ride this wave. I felt sick inside, maybe not enough to vomit. But I could feel the blocks being set up. No matter what I did, or how much I figured myself out I'll still fail her. Raquel could tell I was pulling away, and she touched my neck again trying to pull me back. Maybe to pull the confident weasel she'd saw pop, back out of her hole. I only smiled, but when she pulled my bra down and adjusted my collar, it was like she took a hammer to the side of the box. The weasel couldn't stay hidden inside.
I couldn't help but smile at her. She smiled as well, hopeful clearly. She exited the changing room before me. I pulled my shorts back up and looked at myself. I looked good in the jacket, even if it was harder than me. Maybe I could grow into it, grow into a new persona that clearly already made me feel good. I let out a shaky breath, Why does it feel like I'm high? I thought. What's different right now?
I put my clothes on and took the jacket off. I put it back on the hanger and looked for a tag again. Looking in the arm pit, on the ends of the arms, inside on the tags or linings. I took it to the counter with Sam's pants, "This doesn't have a tag," I said.
The clerk looked at me, her face cold, empty. She knew it was coming. She had long hair over her face and a piercing in her eyebrow and lip.
"No," I said with a laugh. "I'm just playing."
"God," The clerk said smiling at me. "Thank you."
"It was in the wrong spot, so unsure what it should have been marked."
"That's okay," She said, looking up at me. "I'll just put it in as another pair of pants."
"Sick," I said. Sam looked at me, eyebrows raised. "I like you're piercings, by the way."
The clerk smiled and blushed as she calculated the price, "Yeah, thanks."
I looked at Sam, smiling too. Raquel looked at me, laughing to herself. I paid the bill and the clerk brushed her hair out of her face to make eye contact. She was cute. She blushed at me, and I nodded like a fool. I didn't say anything, or try to flirt with her.
We climbed back into Raquel's car, her station wagon, and I couldn't help thinking about how little I thought about it when I complimented her. "She was cute," Raquel said.
"Jealous?" Sam asked, jokingly. She sat in front with the driver.
"Yeah," Raquel laughed. "I've never gotten a compliment like that."
I laughed too, "I've complimented you!"
"I know, I know," Raquel said, smiling at me from the driver's seat. Raquel never really cared too much about Sam, our relationship. We'd been very open from day one. In fact, Sam and Raquel were involved from the start. I'd only met Raquel when she'd hang out after the two women fucked.
"Let's go out," Raquel said, as we pulled into the driveway of our house.
I don't really deserve to go out do I, I thought. I could drink the small savings I had away in a night.
"I've got to study tonight," Sam said, she looked at Raquel. "You two should go."
"How about it?" Raquel asked.
I'm going to disappoint her tonight. I thought. "Yeah," I said, trying to find ground to stand on. "Let's do it." I touched the burgundy leather in the bag of clothes next to me.
"Sounds good," Raquel said. "I'll go home get dolled up, pick you up again around six?"
"See you then," I said, leaning forward towards Raquel. She touched my sweater, and kissed me.
"Wow," Sam said, "Really."
Raquel left Sam and I for a few hours. We ate and I showered, and before long it was time to get ready. I didn't wear a bra, only a tank top. My smaller tits were visible under the pale fabric. I put the same shorts on from earlier in the day and put my hair up. "Can I wear this?" I asked.
Sam looked up from her work, at me wearing her "Log Jam PS1" trucker hat. "Yeah, of course," Sam said. "You don't want me to do you hair?"
I put my hair in a bun and put the hat backwards over my head, tucking my bun into the top of the hat. "I-I don't know," I said.
Sam looked at me, watching me pull the jacket out of the bag and put it on. She raised her eyebrow seeing me fully dressed, "Ahh, okay."
"Yeah," I said, feeling my face grow warm. "It's not too much?"
Sam looked at me with a widening smile.
You're such a fool, what are you doing? You thought. You going against what you fought for. Your transition, your gender. This is working backwards. Next thing you're gonna do is go back to being a man?
"It suits you, I think," Sam said. "You look good."
I laughed, feeling my anxiety fade. "Yeah, f-for sure."
"How do you feel?" Sam asked, standing and adjusting my jacket.
"Yeah," I said, feeling a groan of pleasure escape as she adjusted me. She was always so supportive, so soft and caring.She was almost as tall as Raquel, but her hands knew me better. Even though there wasn't romantic love between us, there was still a love of care. I leaned against her and sighed.
"Come on big girl," Sam said pushing me up. "You want to dress this hot, you gotta get out there."
"Yeah?" I asked, laughing. "You think..."
"Raquel seemed very happy to see you," Sam said. "Liked how confident you looked."
"Yeah," I said, contented. I put my hands into the pockets of the jacket and looked down at Sam.
"You're gonna do well," Sam said.
"Yeah," I said, unable to think of anything else to add. "For sure."
"You are," Sam repeated.
I felt her confidence in me for once. Usually it felt like she was just saying things to me to make me feel better, but I felt it more sincerely. Sam had my back, and she would no matter what.
Raquel knocked on the door, and fawned over the jacket as well when I let her in. Gripping the lapels like she did before pushing me into the changing room, instead she held them for support to reach up and kiss my cheek. She refreshed her make-up, and put on a dress. It went down to only above her knees, showing off her gorgeous legs. The black fabric parted at her chest, and she wore at cropped jacket to keep her shoulders warm. I leaned against her and kissed her neck in return, I could smell her lotion, the make-up, the lavender conditioner she put in her curly black hair.
We rode across town, to the closest thing we had to a gay bar. A club named Blueday, one of the co-owners was gay. They usually played electronica and older hits from the peak punk days. I paid for our cover and we entered. Raquel clung to me as we waded through people dancing between the door and the bar. I ordered drinks, as I knew she preferred the house special drink, the London Calling. I just did shots as she sipped her boozy cocktail. I knew that if I could get a specific level of drunk I could forget about the last time I took her out.
Usually when we went out we did so with Sam, maybe with one of her friends. I could get out of going to the dance floor with Raquel. She'd ask me though, and I'd say I wanted to hang out at our table. But really I was just afraid, standing around others out in the open. Not that I was afraid to be seen with her, but I was afraid to be seen period.
Raquel sat her empty drink on the bar and cupped my arm, dragging me away from the bar. I finished my last shot and let her peal me away. I followed her somewhat reluctantly, knowing I wouldn't be able to deny her. I didn't want though, I never did. She moved her body first, mostly against mine.
The music was so loud, I could barely hear my own thoughts. The four shots I put down helped immensely as well. The speakers, thumped with this strange sythy noise. Claps, horns, drums. She moved me, pushing my body to the sway of hers and for once I could feel the pull of this. In the dark, packed in like blue light drenched sardines. Buzzed and ground, I began to lose myself. For once in my life I lost my worries. Moving without thought, swaying and mimicking the body bouncing and head bobbing of those around me.
It was hot, her body against mine and the dance floor. Her finger reached back and gripped my sides, and the belt loops in my shorts. I looked down at her, as white and blue lights spread across her form. There were so many bodies, so much sweat, and exhaled air. Booze and cigarette smoke mixed in. She touched my bare skin feeling my sweaty stomach. It was far too hot to wear a leather jacket, but I'd never be more than an arms length from it again if I could help it.
The songs changed and went on and changed again before she pulled me away. She dragged me across the room again, towards the bathroom. The line for the women's room flowed out the door and into the club as Depeche Mode demanded to reach out. I pulled her right back, dragging her into the men's room. The music was only slightly muffled, only enough to hear her laugh as I showed her to a stall. The doors were torn off the two stalls, so I stood in front of her and facing away, and watching the door. A man with a shaved head and a D.I. shirt on stared at me as pissed into the urinal. I looked into his drunken eyes, then averted my gaze. Another man held his gut and stumbled to the other stall and then stumbled towards me. There was only a narrow path between me and the wall.
"Get out of the way, dick head," He yelled, pulling me off my feet. "Oh hey, a lady. Get outta here! I gotta shit!"
"Fuck off!" I yelled, shoving him. I didn't know I could even shove, let alone with the amount of force it took to push him off his feet. He fell backwards into the tiles wall and slid to the floor.
"You fucking prick," he yelled. Pulling himself up, and trying again. He stepped towards me and punched me in the face before I could even see it coming. I grabbed him by his shirt. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. I shoved him harder, towards the stall he didn't want to use. He fell to the ground and smacked his head against the wall. He stayed on the ground scratching his head. Raquel touched my back and we left the bathroom, heading straight to the bar. After she washed her hands, of course.
Raquel sat on a stool and I stood beside her, as she held a napkin to my bloody nose. "You're an idiot!" She yelled. "Why did you do that?"
The music was still so loud. "I didn't punch back or anything," I yelled.
"Well," Raquel smiled at me. "Don't need to be getting into fights cuz you feel hard now."
Vibrant electronica shifted to coursing punk classics as people began to smoke along the edges of small club. I stepped closer to Raquel, and touched her thigh. She looked up at me in surprise, not horror or like I was taking something she hadn't always offered me. Shocked that I would touch her first, so brazenly. I looked away, feeling a blush fill my face, and pulled my hand away. She laughed adjusting the nose bleed rag, my nose started up again.
We danced and smoked and drank and danced until we were tired and sore. More than I'd been in years, maybe ever. I had spent most of my life reserved. I'd spent my time as a man living without feelings like a shadow, and my time as a woman without honesty, like I was living someone else's life. Raquel dragged me to her car, a station wagon she'd gotten from her parents for college. It was far from new, an old family car. She opened the back and set me down on the edge of the bumper.
I laughed as she turned on the car and played the Rolling Stones album that had been stuck in her tape deck since I bought it for her. I put down the back seats and laid on my back.
The parking lot was filled with people getting in their cars and driving off, drunk. Or walking through it to their houses across town. It would be a long walk for us. Raquel crawled into the the back of the car and pulled the hatch shut from the inside. The only light in the parking lot, the little light in the ceiling, was gone. But the moon, the heavy moon hung low in the sky as if it wanted to watch. It spread sliver rays across her body as she straddled my hips and pushed her hands under my tank top. She's spent all night rubbing against me, and it felt good. But this was so much more.
I put my hands behind my head and huffed, enjoying the attention.
Raquel smiled down at me as she continued to slide up my shirt and touched my breasts. Her fingers were so unafraid, sensual. I gasped feeling her gyrate her hips against my stiffening shaft.
Raquel grabbed my arms from behind my head and put them on her thighs, "Touch me."
Her voice was soft, pleading, but all I heard was the disappointment. I touched her legs, feeling upwards under her dress. So soft, so smooth it made me shiver. I lifted myself up, pressing into her from bellow. She reached up supporting herself with an arm on the ceiling. My stomach filled with booze, beer, and cigarette smoke shifted wrong. I pushed her off me and shoved the back seat door to my left open. I vomited painfully onto the pavement below. Raquel patted my back as I vomited more. I let out a slow breath as I pulled the door shut. I leaned against it, watching her.
You can't give her what she wants. You're meek, uninteresting.
"I had a good time tonight," Raquel said. "Felt like..."
"I want you..." I said, softly. "I do."
"Calista," she said just as softly. "You did good tonight, okay?"
I couldn't look at her. She wouldn't have to be so encouraging with other people. With another woman.
"Really, I'm... I feel like..." Raquel said.
"Whatever," I said. I slid away towards the hatch door. I popped it open and sat on the edge hoping not to vomit again. She touched my back, but it just felt like she was trying to recover me. Like I was just a child she was having a hard time keeping under control. I touched her hand, giving it a squeeze. "Be safe okay?" I said softly. "I'll see you soon."
"No, Calista," She said as I began to stand. "Please. Please don't go, you did good I promise."
"It's fine," I said. "I'll call you okay." Yeah right, you piece of shit.
Raquel sighed as I walked away from the car. I adjusted the bulge in my pants. My cock was still hard, the outside of my shorts were a bit damp. I sighed feeling so much worse. She wanted you so bad, you let her down again. She was giving you a chance tonight to be better and you blew it. See, I knew you didn't deserve it.
Even though it was summer, Oregon nights still got cold. I had a long ways to walk too. Maybe it was being in my new leather armor, or the light of the moon, or that I was still drunk, but I felt less afraid of the night. It was almost freeing. I could be alone with the moon. My thoughts didn't let me free, telling me things I knew weren't true. I knew I should have just stayed, it was more foolish to get so bothered that I'd walk off.
I zipped up my jacket and fastened the belt as tight as it would go. It wouldn't squeeze tight enough to press my regrets out. I checked the pockets again as I walked. The button pocket was empty. I found an ancient business card in the zipper pocket, opposite the button one. It was old, faded and bent. It looked to be a bike shop in San Diego, nearly a thousand miles away. She traveled didn't she.
The last pocket was over the buttoned pocket, a zipper that was stuck when I bought it in the thrift store. I tugged it and it opened with only a single stick in the zipper. I pushed my right arm up high to reach in.
The opening was so narrow, the zipper so wide, it felt like sticking a hand in the mouth of an animal.
Inside I felt fur. A small scrap of what felt like dog fur. Wolf pelt?
It had been in there the whole night, but what was it. I tried to pull it out, my hand was too large holding the scrap.
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I held the scrap in the pale moonlight.

____________
What do you do and how do you feel?

I gotta see this weird shit, what is it god damnit?

I shouldn't pry, it's probably gross.

I should just throw it away, and don't look.

WHAT IS IT

Get a better look at whatever's in the jacket!!

Kacey Pink 2022/07/16(Sat)18:40 No. 1038359 ID: 4ef090
File 165802204078.png - (7.25MB , 4000x2667 , OXBLOOD 5.png )

TIGGER WARNING BODY HORROR AND VISCERA DEPICITED
_________________________
I stood on the side of the road, a small gravel embankment to my right. I was maybe still a half an hour from home. Out towards an abandoned field, in the distance I could see the tall smoke stacks of some abandoned factory along the river front. I'd never walked this far from home before, usually had a ride or took a bus.
I stopped walking and looked down at the ground. The scrap of fur in my new jacket's pocket was only about two square inches of material. I had to pinch it between two fingers to pull it out of the jaws of the zipper. As I pulled it out, it felt like it became taut, like a piano wire twanging. It struck deep into me, like I was pulling a thread out of my chest. A hot steel wire tearing apart my soft flesh. As I held the scrap of fur in the moonlight my eyes began to water. It's just, it's just fur? I thought. Gray fur, like an overcast sky. My head vibrated with fear, like a oppressive force was hanging over me. The moon's stare, like a giant silvery guillotine, threatened to come down over me and take everything in a single smooth lick.
I flipped it over in my hand examining both sides. The back of patch of fur was wet, wet. Why was it wet. In the dark I couldn't see it fully, but I could smell it. Fresh blood. Crimson oil in the low light, smelling of sweet, salty pennies. It dripped down my finger. The scrap of pelt felt heavy, like a corpulent sponge begging to be squeezed dry. I couldn't help myself. I squished it in my hand, yearning for the release of it.
It felt like chewing cactus.
My hand stung as more blood dripped down my arm, dripping down, down into the arm of my jacket. Down the plaid and tiger print. Why did it hurt, how could it hurt. How could it be full of blood. Why. Why. WHY. My bones creaked like an ancient tree against a street sign, wailing to the night sky. Her knotty bark pushing away the human world around it.
It hurt, my whole body ached. My joints we hot and stiff like I had the flu, like my body was going to give out.
I fell to the ground, to the street I had walked along the edge of. My hand was so bloody. The fur where is it? I groaned, straining to look around me. I hadn't let go of it, nor did I drop it. But it wasn't in my hand anymore. My fingers, my forearms. I felt sweat began to build up along the back of my neck my head thumped like I had every kind of headache at once. My stomach, it started there.
The core of a person's being, that's what it used to be known as. It clenched hard, harder than I ever experienced. I wretched in pain, but I'd already emptied what I had earlier. I clenched my fist against my gut, wadding up the sweaty fabric of my tank top. It was drenched in fresh sweat, pain and terror seeping from every pore. I pulled hard on the fabric not really thinking, not really feeling the world as I once had. My body felt like it would melt completely in the hot light of the moon. But when the cool air poured onto my bare skin I felt some kind of relief.
Not relief enough as the clenching, the vigorous involuntary clamping of my muscles spread. My legs flexed out from under me, pulling close suddenly and dumping me onto my side. Gravity wasn't the only thing against me that night, but it ripped me down the side of the gravel hill, and I rolled off the road down to dirt and mud and trash. I felt the fractures first. I'd broken a bone in my hand before, smashed my six year-old finger in the heavy door my grandma's giant sedan. It hurt so bad I passed out. I wished, no I pleaded with god, to pass out in the muddy garbage.
The pain forced screams out of me, heavy tears streaming down my face. My muscles flexed beyond their normal strength, contracting hard enough they crack bones. My body moved on its own, convulsing flopping and kicking like a dying fish begging to be returned to the cool depths of whatever world it had been reeled from. But I couldn't, my body and mind wouldn't let me return to a world before it. I was pinned by truth now, and I'd have to ride it out.
I did fade in and out, however, saved from a modicum of the pain. When one of my femurs cracked the noise nearly made me vomit alone, but the pain and the shock of feeling my leg move in ways I knew it shouldn't as I convulsed in the gravel. I woke up again at the pain of my back cracking, like ungodly popcorn, boiled in my overheating flesh.
By that time though, my flesh was already knitting back together, and my bones melded stronger than before. Longer denser. It was like a third, more aggressive puberty. In the light of the moon I could see my fingers, elongated into long claws. Fur across my denser, longer arms and legs. Dense with muscle, but stringy, like I had always been.
When had I taken off my jacket, where was it. I had ripped off my tank top, but my jacket had seemingly disappeared. My shorts shredded from the seems as my body expanded within them. Loud seem popping rips, that dreaded noise. Not as bad as the the sound of flesh tearing, rippling to new life. I pulled my shorts from my body, like a second skin that had refused to serve me.
The last thing I fully remember from that night was my voice, the sigh of relief that vibrated in my guts and chest. It exited my throat as a thunderous howl. A grateful bellow to the moon, a joyous cry that I'd found myself alive on the other side of this painful transformation. I looked over a wolf's muzzle at the moon, my face, my muzzle. I could hear the town, feel the breeze, smell gasoline, and the rotting food on the wrappers around me. My body moved into the night, mingling with darkness easily, and the rest of my time in the moonlight came to me only later in blotchy clips.
My hands moving like instinct, the ground passing under me at blinding speeds. Hunger prevailed the vision.
Id incarnate as I bounded through the closed up night as if it were built just for me. The cool air running though the fur across my body. My muscled arms pried apart a metal door, like the top of a beer can, it looked like a grocery store door. Some kind of store front. I remembered lights, beams searching the aisles of goods. The night called to me, humans, being seen, wasn't on the menu. And frigid flesh, cold ribs and rump roast wrapped in plastic and backed in styrofoam wasn't enough to sate me.
I pealed open an animal of some kind. It was hot, like water out of hose left out in the sun all day. Its blood so fresh and vibrant in the night. It smelled of piss and garbage. But I ate it hot, and it nourished me like fresh lettuce in a desert of sugar and carbs. It was like I had tasted king crab after eating only years of spam and pork rinds. It rested in me, warming my guts with its remaining body heat. Like a flesh top-up, it sated me well.
I returned to the river, washing my body in the cold rushes. The undercurrents pulled at my body. I was so tired, but something else itched at my mind. I had sampled the warmth of blood and murder, but that wasn't the only comfort flesh could offer. I lingered in the night, on baited breaths watching my house, the lights in the windows.
Sam clung to my naked form in the cool morning. I was in her bed, sudden me again. Conscious and writing memories as always. I was so sweaty, the pillow under me was drenched. My long hair felt so heavy and messy from the sweat. The morning light was so pale, five in the morning, much earlier than I'd ever vowed to see during summer.
I looked down to the floor. My jacket laid on the carpet, no other clothes of mine though.
I felt memories flood in, and became nauseous. I slid from under the soft warmth of Sam's body and rushed to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet. Viscera poured out of me into porcelain bowl, reeking of bile and rot. I was so hot, my joints still ached, but at least I was sweating.
I groaned in pain, "Fuck!"
"A-are you okay?" Sam asked, I could hear her voice growing louder as she walked towards the bathroom.
I shut the door before she could reach me. "S-sorry," I said. "Had too much to drink last night."
"Yeah, you seemed kind of out of it," Sam said. "You," She laughed. "You really blew my back out though."
"Y-yeah?" I asked, looking down into the toilet. This was more than a casual hang over. A chunk of undigested fur and flesh bobbed to the surface. A cats paw. I turn on the light to look into the bowl further. Blood, meat, red and pink styrofoam, cling wrap, meat packing labels, chunks of bones. I gaged again, but held it down, rather keep my shame inside then let it leak out and get me caught. I flicked off the light and prayed the toilet would flush. It went down after a few hard flushes.
"You're okay?" Sam asked.
I didn't respond for a moment, holding my sweaty head in my hands. What could someone really charge me with right now, killing a cat, stealing some meat, breaking and entering. I didn't kill anyone, I just... did a little bit of stray cat management. My head began to pulse with a fresh headache. I felt irritable most of all. I wanted to yell at Sam to fuck off, but I knew better. I took in a patient breath and tried to calm down.
"Yeah," I said, opening the door. I lifted my hair up, fanning my sweaty neck. "I blew you back out, huh?"
"Do you not remember?" Sam asked. "You came in all low and rumbly wearing nothing but your leather jacket. Did your date go well?"
"I-I don't know." I pulled my tooth brush out and began to brush. "I-I'm just dumb."
"Yeah?" Sam asked. "How serious is it doctor?"
"Terminal," I spit pink foam.
"Woah, are you okay?" Sam asked.
I rinsed my brush and slurped water into my mouth, swishing and spitting. "I'm fine. We had these new drinks that had like... red dye and a bunch of uhm, like cherries I think." I lied. I could feel sweat beginning to drip down my neck again.
"Okay," Sam said. "Was it good?"
"Yeah," I said, feeling my face grow warm. I wasn't great at lying, but why would I lie about something so inconsequential. Who would guess that I went on a raw meat bend across the city. My body was suddenly stricken with waves of fever. "It was good," I said, trying to calm myself. "It was very good."
"Well, hopefully the hangover will be worth it," Sam said, stepping away from the bathroom door.
"C-can I bum a smoke?" I asked, pulling out the hair trimmer from under the sink.
"You're smoking again?" Sam asked from her bedroom, the door was open and so close to the bathroom door.
"For now, maybe," I said. She returned to the bathroom finding me staring into the mirror buzzing my head.
"Woah," Sam said handing me the cigarette. "What are you doing?"
"I'm hot," I said, looking at her shocked gaze. I took the cigarette and her lighter. "It's just hair."
"Yeah, but, it's your hair," Sam said. "It was so pretty."
"Thanks," I said. "Maybe it'll still look good."
"I'm sure it will," Sam said. "Just sudden, I guess."
I looked at her taking my first drag of the cigarette, "I think, I mean, maybe." I looked in the mirror, hand over the rest of my long hair. "In all this time, I haven't really thought about what I'd do with long hair, how to wear it."
"Yeah, I styled your hair for you mostly," Sam said, looking at the bald side of my head. It was trimmed down so low it was only peach fuzz. "Well, we'll see how you like this then."
I laughed, "All I care about right now is cooling off." I swept up the hair and threw it away. It was heavy in the dust pan, over three years of growing my hair, gone. I ran my hands over it in the mirror. I looked so tired. Dog tired. My face was red, eyes blood shot. My lips were dry, cracked.
I returned to her bedroom and Sam rubbed my head, laughing. "It does look good."
"Yeah, I think so," I said, crawling back into her bed.
Sam touched my stomach, laying on her side facing me. "You been working out?" She asked. "Little abs down here." I laughed in response feeling where her hands had touched me. My body hadn't returned to me exactly as it was. Her grip was more direct, reaching down to grip at my cock, squeezing and grabbing.
"Hungry for more?" I asked with a smiled. I hadn't remembered, but my body did. "Whew, I can still feel it."
Sam laughed, "What?"
"I keep having these flashes of last night," I said, gripping her side under her and pulling her against me. "The last solid vision I have is the sounds you made under me."
Sam laughed and pressed her face into my small tits, hiding her blush. I pressed against her stomach, my dick was already getting so hard thinking about it. She kept touching me and adjusted, sliding up as I kissed her neck and chest. "What round is this?" I asked.
"Three?" Sam asked.
"Really?" I said with a soft smile. I turned away to the night stand, and pulled a condom off the shelf.
"I think so," Sam laughed. "Unless I blacked out too."
Black out, that's what it was. Was it unhealthy, would I get myself into trouble like that. I resolved to let it be my problem next time. I pealed apart the condom wrapped and pushed it down my hard cock. Sam touched me again, stroking down the latex and touching my balls. She knew just how to touch me to get me going, but there was more to it now. I grunted, deeper like a grumble growl. "Really?" Sam asked firmly.
"Fuck off," I said with a laugh, she laughed too. I shifted in the bed up to my knees and clenched her sides. She made a soft noise, a shocked gasp. A noise that made me grunt again, "Goddamn," I said, "Feels like I could go for twenty rounds." I pushed her legs up, and pinned her hard to the bed. She made another noise, a feminine whine of shocked pleasure. I huffed through gritted teeth as I rocked my hips back and forth, grinding on her folds.
"Come on, Calista," Sam said with a laugh. "Don't, don't tease me with it now."
I laughed and held my cock. I slid it down until it slipped in. "Hh, fuck," I winced. Though I'd never gone for thirds before I felt it in my balls, soreness. I didn't remember earning it, but it certainly felt earned. I watched her below me, the early morning light illuminating her dark skin. I let out a soft low huff, as I hilted. She reached up to grip my hand on her thigh.
"Feeling okay?" I asked.
"Ye-yeah," Sam huffed. "J-just fuck me, asshole."
I laughed and shifted my hips, clapping against her ass. She let out a long whine that raised with the thumps of her bed frame against the wall. I let her legs rest against me with one arm and reached around them to press circles into her clit with my other arm. I found a rhythm I didn't know I had in me, especially if this was my third round in so many hours. The feel of her body against mine with each rapid thrust was really getting to me. I could feel more memories of the night returning to me.
I gripped her so rough, so desperate. The warmth of fresh prey couldn't be compared to the warm embrace of a body. I felt myself drooling on her leg, as leaned over her. Thinking of the hot flesh, blood. Sex, sloppy puffy excited, equally desperate. I clenched my jaws hard. I couldn't hold onto it. I grunted and squeezed her legs hard against me and clapped hard against her. I could feel a jet spill into the condom, and my cock flexing hard. "Geez," I groaned. "H-how are you?"
Sam looked up at me, eyebrows raised. She pushed her curly dyed hair out of he face and looked at me as if lost. "W-what?"
"H-are you good?" I asked again, speaking louder. I hadn't realized I was grumbling more than actually speaking "I wasn't too rough there?"
"Yyeah," she said. "No, no," She corrected herself firmly.
"Okay," I grumbled, looking down. I pulled out looking at her folds wrapped around my cock. Then took the condom off. Then stepped off the bed, dropping the condom into her bedroom trash bin. It was heavier than I'd have expected from a round three. The bin had two tied off condoms in it already. I smiled in satisfaction, crawling back into bed.
Sam was laying comfortably, trying to catch her breath. I ran my hands over her again, down her belly to touch her clit. She let out another one of those soft whines and pressed her face against me, and I held her close, rubbing in tight circles again. She knew my body, and I knew hers. She gripped my arm, clenching me with such a firm grip I knew she'd gotten close when I fucked, practically edged her. I watched her face closely. Her eyelids flickered, and she licked her lips. She pressed herself against my hand, and let out a sharp little whine. Her eyebrows were raised high, mouth hung open, before groaning and relaxing her body. "Wow," I mumbled.
"Wh-what?" Sam asked.
"Wow," I said. "I always forget how fun it is to make you cum."
"Whatever," Sam said pushing my face away.
She laid on me and I laid back into the bed, trying to nap before the day came. I didn't have much luck, thinking about my night on the town after I left Raquel.
[b]____________________
How do you feel?

I loved the power I experienced.

I'm a freak now, even more so than before.

They'll try to steal this power from me.

I can enjoy this and maintain control.

They'll try to steal it

The blue text. Not for the werewolf stuff, but because you are describing your sex life in lurid detail on public record.

To clarify, I was talking about writing on the diary.

I think perhaps, a bit of Red and Blue and also Yellow? Having conflicting feelings is pretty normal, but in this case you might've just awoken to your latent Queerness.

Instead of trying to pass as the type of woman people expect, become the freak that you are! Be YOUR type of woman, the person YOU deserve to be.

Embrace the feelings of freaky queerness!

Kacey Pink 2022/07/21(Thu)00:23 No. 1038780 ID: 4ef090
File 165838820369.png - (22.75MB , 4000x2667 , OXBLOOD 6.png )

I ran my hand over my head, through my hair. It had already started growing back in the week or so since my first time as a wolf. I sat in front of the same computer I'd sat in front of so many nights writing essays. A geocities website on the screen animated and cast light onto my face. It was dark in the Internet cafe and way too late, nearly four in the morning. I still hadn't found a job, had nothing to be up early for so I just killed time. I wore my leather jacket, even though it was warm. Always wore it, even if it made me into a monster.
I picked up my beer off the table and glugged it down. Stock art of a horror movie werewolf littered the screen, and lighting animated across a gray cloud background. I hadn't found that scrap of fur again, or transformed. I tried to read it again, "The only true way to cure Lycanthropy is death. A silver bullet dripped in the holy blood of a preacher, shot right through the heart."
No way I was gonna die. "What's this?" Xavier asked, looking at my screen. He put his beer down on the table and stood over me. He had short black hair, and a scar on his chin. Pale white, like a ghost stalking my search history.
I covered the screen, with desperate guilt, "Nothing, it's nothing."
"Oh, yeah?" He said with a laugh, pulling the monitor to the side. I was so heavy I couldn't hold it just by the slick glass screen.
"No, wait?" I pleaded. He's gonna see it. He's gonna know. He'll want to put me down.
"O-oh," He laughed. "This is..."
I felt sweat drip down my neck.
"What is this? I thought it was gonna be porn."
"No, it's not porn!" I barked desperately. What was I thinking, Xavier is cool. He's trans too, he might understand.
"Mhmm," Xavier said, laughing and giving my screen back. "Must be some weird kink stuff then, cuz I don't know why you'd be so worried about some goofy myths."
I laughed looking up at him, and then back to the monitor. I still had no real way of proving what I was, no handle on how it would affect my life. Or way of knowing when I would change again. "Something," I said. "I don't know." People would think I was goofy, but I'm still anxious.
"I'm not gonna make fun of you, Cal," Xavier said, rubbing my shoulders. I asked him to call me by a nickname, most people now. "Not for real."
"Yeah, yeah," I laughed. "Knee jerk, I guess."
"You're doing what to your knee?" Xavier asked. Pulling a chair out next to me.
"If I had some kink stuff, you'd know about it," I said.
"Sure," Xavier said.
"Like you'd know more about it than me."
"Oh," He laughed and grabbed his beer over me. "Maybe. You have kinks tho, everyone does."
"No, not everyone," I said.
"Preferences then," he said softly. "You like 'em all girly."
I laughed, feeling my face grow red. "I mean, maybe."
"You like when they smoke and tell you what to do," Xavier said.
"Fu-fuck off, man," I said grabbing my beer and drinking it down.
"I know I do," He said with a laugh. Xavier turn on the computer next to mine and watched it boot up. "Speaking of."
"No," I said. I knew he'd bring her up again, it hurt to think about her still.
"You didn't even hear me," He said.
"No, I know what you're gonna say," I said laughing. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You went on that date," Xavier said. "Raquel misses you I'm sure."
I sighed closing the werewolf page. The blue desktop background spilled light all over my face in the dim light of the cafe. "I-maybe..." I said. "Why you gotta ride me?"
"Oh I'll ride you," Xavier said. "But no, because I know you want to call her again. Asshole."
"I..." I began and then let out a slow breath. "What I want and what I can do are two different things."
"You think I was good enough at this job the first year?" Xavier asked.
"You're still bad at this job," I said. And we laughed together.
"No, listen to me, for real man," Xavier opened an Internet window when the computer finished booting. "You will get better at following impulses, and she cares about you dude."
"Thanks, I guess," I said. "I care about her too, which is why I'd rather... I'd rather not let her down."
"Sounds like an ego thing to me," Xavier said.
"You're an ego thing," I said, watching him undo his pants.
"Yeah, probably," Xavier said, then looked up at me. "What, you got me thinking about porn."
"I could used a break," I said.
"From you werewolf kink or you self imposed girl troubles," Xavier asked.
"Fuck off," I said as I watched him type werewolf in to the porn site search bar. We watched as a grainy bitmap file loaded in slowly. He's right though, isn't he. It jumped down to display a man's head covered in werewolf makeup, then down again to show his chest. It continued down to a woman making an exaggerated pleasure face, until it finally showed us her tits and the action near the very bottom. Why haven't I called her. It took nearly two minuets of us drunkenly staring at the monitor.
"Yeah," Xavier said. "This it?"
"No, weirdo," I said with a laugh as I undid my shorts. This was a relatively new group activity we did. "I would never do that." I said. What if I did, what if I fucked someone as the wolf. How would it feel.
"Why does she look so..."
"Unimportant?" I asked. "I can't do straight stuff."
"No, yeah, same," He grumbled, and typed in new search terms. A new image began to load as he pushed his pants down. I looked down at his Tdick, thick meat he began to touch, stroking up and down. "This'll be better."
I looked at the half of the woman's head that loaded in and also pushed my pants down. One of the women had wavy hair in a similar style to hers, and I began to think about how I abandoned her in a parking lot. I took another sip of my beer and began to touch myself as well. "That a promise?" I asked, trying my best to stay focused on coming.
"Maybe," he said, pulling his shirt up over his belly. "If it's no fun, we might have to make our own."
"That's a promise, I know," I said, with a smile. As the rest of the women loaded in, the image displayed the fingering and toying with each other. They came together, leaning against one another and groaning in pleasure. I pulled my chair over, to be closer. Xavier smiled as he adjusted the monitor for me to see better. He wasn't shy about watching me either, as I stroked myself. He stroke himself harder and grunted softly. I spit in my hand and stroked myself with more attention, staring at the monitor. All I could think about was Raquel. Her legs, how excited she was to see me. The fun we had.
Xavier finished himself rather quickly, and watched me again. "You good?" he asked as he continued to touched himself.
"Help me out," I mumbled.
Xavier didn't need to be asked twice. He reached over my lap and touched my tool. His fingers were slick as he stroked me carefully. He looked up with a cocky little smile. I touched his leg and smiled back. He scooted close to me so I could reach him. I pressed hand against his tdick, rubbing and stroking him right back.
He's right, I miss her. I regret leaving, regret nothing sticky around even if it was awkward.
Xavier squeezed my softening tool, "What're you thinking about?"
I sighed and pulled my pant up, "Sorry."
"It's okay man," Xavier said. "We're just having fun."
"Yeah," I mumbled. "I'm gonna go have a smoke."
Xavier shut off the computer, "Sure. I can crash on your couch tonight?"
"Of course," I said. "No driving home drunko."
Xavier laughed, "We gotta play some Deathmatch before we go."
"For sure," I said, pulling my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and opened the back door of the little Internet cafe.
It must have been much earlier than I thought, the sun was beginning to rise as I lit a cigarette. I could see my house, and wondered how Sam was sleeping. I sat on the steps of the back patio alone, just taking slow cigarette drags with my thoughts. Dreams, hopes maybe.
I looked around the patio, an empty beer for an ashtray. A light on on the back wall, illuminated the gravel area behind the adjoined buildings. The butcher shop's back door was a metal roll up. The sound of a heavy truck pulling it's way up the street echoed down the road. The box truck drove by, and then backed up behind the butcher shop attached to the cafe. I stood flicking ash into the gravel. The door to the box truck creaked open and then slammed shut.
The butcher from the next door stepped around the truck and looked up at me. I had seen her around, but never really talked. She had short hair, similar in length to mine, but cut in a flat top. She wore a pale white coat and jeans. There was a large scar on her left hand. She stepped close to the back of the cafe, and lit a cigarette. She smoked facing the same direction as me.
"Hey, Kid," She said, flicking her ash and looking up at me again. She was stocky, broad shoulders and bit of a belly.
"Wha-what's up?" I asked.
She looked at me, at my jacket and laughed. "Who'd you steal that old thing from."
"Fuck off," I said with a laugh.
"It looks good," she said. "Need to get more meat on your bones though."
"Yeah," I said, laughing again. "Up early," I said, leaning over the pouch towards her.
"Yeah, new stock," She said. "Lotta work today."
I took another drag. "Yeah?" I asked.
"You're working here now?" She asked.
"No, just hanging out," I said. "Don't got a job right now, Actually."
She flicked her cigarette away, "Want to get paid then, Kid?"
"Help you with the stock?" I asked.
"Yeah," She said, pulling some gloves out of her back pocket, leaning away. I could see a tattoo under her collar, a sailor jerry wolf hear teeth bared. The ink was blued and fading. "Help me carry some meat in?"
"Y-yeah," I said, catching the pair of gloves she tossed to me. I put my cigarette out and pulled my jacket off, tossing it onto a chair on the porch. I pulled the gloves on and followed her to the truck. She opened the back of the shop and put some other gloves on and tossed me a big white coat. I put it on and watched her unlock the box truck next. Inside there was a long row of frozen beef and pig carcasses. I suddenly felt my tiredness catch up to me as she jumped into the cool truck. "Here, Kid," She said, holding a pair of prewrapped hams and looking down at me from the edge of the truck. "Catch."
I held out my arms and she dropped the hams into my arms. I laughed trying to hold them both, heavier than I expected. She lifted a beast off the rack that ran along the ceiling of the truck and tossed it over her shoulder before dropping off the back. She led me into the butcher shop and showed me where to drop the hams in the freezer. It was cold, obviously. The work was already keeping my mind busy.
"Just move the hams, maybe some of the smaller pork," She explained. "Don't hurt yourself."
I took armfuls of meat back and forth until the sun began to cast warm beams across the back of the shops. I was beginning to really sweat, the cool air of the freezer and the truck were almost a relief. The butcher watched me heave a pig carcass onto my shoulder, mimicking her motion. She watched me, as it was the last bit of meat on the truck. "Good job, Kid," She said. As we made it to the freezer, she stood behind me as I held the hook locked into the pork's legs. She grabbed my hand, helping me lift the meat up and into the freezer's track.
I laughed and looked up at her, our hands still touched. She smiled and raised her eyebrows, before stepping towards the door of the freezer. "Come back sometime, Kid. I'll show you how to butcher," she said, as I followed her to the front register. She handed me twenty bucks and a pack of cold cuts from the freezer. She patted my arm and smiled.
"I didn't even get your name," I said.
"Jack," the butcher said.
"Nice to meet you," I said. "I'm Cal."
"Ah," Jack said with a laugh, "Nice to meet ya too, Kid."
I smiled wide, knowing well I'd remain Kid.
I found Xavier sleeping in a chair in the cafe. I woke him up and we walked to my house. He crash on my sofa almost instantly.
I tossed the meat into the fridge and looked at the twenty dollar bill. I only worked for about two hours. Twenty dollars. That was almost twice as much as I earned an hour at the theater. I'd definitely go back, thinking about Jack lugging around all that meat. I made myself a sandwich with the meat before heading to bed. Let those memories rest in my mind.
________________

Feelings on Jack?

What an asshole, maybe a new friend.

Maybe I could learn a thing or two.

I wouldn't mind handling her meat, eyooooooo.

new friend new friend!!