However, it turned out to be quite a bit, well...sweeter than I had anticipated. I guess I'm sentimental at heart, even when I'm writing erotica. Anyway, this story is the tale of how a biracial fellow deals with issues both before and after the Great Change. So, here it is:
A Fresh Start
by Nikki J
Dennis sat on the steps in front of his house watching the pedestrians, of which there were quite a few. Most were black, like Dennis, and few paid much attention to him. They simply went about their business; another young black man sitting on his steps wasn't of note in the projects. His current situation may not have been noteworthy, but Dennis himself was.
He was the son of a single mother – his father had skipped out before he had even been born, but he had learned from an early age that if he didn't want to end up in jail or dead, he had better keep his life together. He was lighter skinned than most of the other people in the projects, and Dennis had been told by his mother that his father had been white. Ironic, he remembered thinking, that the stereotype is that black men duck parental responsibilities and his white father had done the same. He suspected that it was less a race thing than a male thing; people get scared, and so, they run from their responsibilities.
Even so, Dennis had just graduated high school, and was going to attend college in the fall (on scholarship). He couldn't wait to get out of the projects, and finish college so he could help support his mother. She had been working two jobs for as long as he could remember, and he'd like to be the one to take care of her for once. He leaned back on the steps, secure in the knowledge that he would soon be leaving the projects behind.
He was lost in thought when one of his friends – Ike – approached, and said, “What's up, man?”
“Nothin', he responded. The two exchanged small talk. Ike had been Dennis' best friend since grade school, and had recently been accepted into an electrician's program at the local community college. However, Dennis suspected that he only applied to stop Dennis from bugging him. Ike, Dennis knew, didn't really value education. Ike was a petty criminal already, and it would only take a small step for him to start down the path of a career law-breaker.
“You hear about that shit on the news earlier? About that terrorist or whatever?” Ike asked.
Dennis had. “Yeah,” he said. “Something about white people or something. I didn't catch all of it.”
“You should've listened. The guy said he was going to change all the white men into little bitches,” Dennis explained. “He didn't say it like that, but that's what he meant.”
The two went on to talk about how funny it would be if what the terrorist – Dennis remembered his name was Bell – had threatened would actually come true. Soon, though, their talk moved from insane doctors and their unlikely plans to something very close to nearly every teenage boy's heart – girls.
“So you're gonna go out with Becky?” Ike asked. “She's got an ass that's just...damn.”
Dennis smiled, and said, “Yeah. Tomorrow night.”
Dennis looked in the mirror, making sure he was looking his best. He wasn't a big guy – only a little over 5'8” and 160 lbs. – but he did take pride in how he looked. He was handsome enough, clean, and he obviously took care of himself. His hair was perfectly trimmed, his baggy clothes were freshly pressed, and he sported a diamond earring in one ear. He had worked all summer in a warehouse to pay for it, so he was very proud of it.
He left the house that night feeling like he was on top of the world. He looked nice, he was going to college in the fall, and he was about to take out Becky, who just happened to be the best looking girl in the neighborhood. Life was looking up.
He walked through the neighborhood, passing by groups of other young men who he knew were drug dealers. He nodded to a few of them that he knew. It didn't take him long to walk to Becky's house; she only lived a few blocks away. He knocked on the door.
Becky answered it, and said, “Hey.” She exited the building without a backward glance. She seemed like she couldn't wait to get out.
The two talked as they walked to the bus stop. Neither could afford a taxi, even if one would venture into the projects. They didn't have to wait long for the bus, and it took them to a stop near the movie theater.
Dennis let Becky pick out the movie, and she picked out some romantic comedy. He didn't mind – she was looking so hot in her tight blue jeans and tee-shirt. Just like Ike had said, her rear end was so round and perfect that Dennis just wanted to grab it.
The movie went well, at least as far as Dennis was concerned. He didn't really pay attention to what was going on in the flick, but he did get his arm around Becky. That much was a success, at least. After the movie, they got back on the bus (he couldn't afford to take her out to eat), and then walked back to her house. They took their time, and Dennis got to know her a little better.
Becky wasn't from the city originally. Her mother had moved there a few years back because of a job, but that job had been short lived. When the economy took a nose dive, the job had vanished. And so, they had turned to the government for assistance and gotten the projects instead. It was a den of crime, drugs, and general poverty rather than the hand up most people sought. Either way, Becky's mother had gotten a job, and they were planning to move back to the suburbs soon.
And Becky had gotten into the same college where Dennis would be attending. It seemed like a match made in heaven. They got along quite well, laughed at one another's jokes, and Dennis found Becky attractive. He only hoped she found him equally good-looking.
They stopped in front of her door, and Becky said, “Well, I guess this is it.”
“Yeah,” he leaned in, and kissed her. “I'll call you, okay?”
Becky smiled, then turned, and entered the door. Before she went in, though, she said, “You better.”
The door shut, and Dennis allowed himself to smile broadly. To understand why a simple good night kiss affected Dennis so, one must know his history. He wasn't the smooth, well-adjusted young man he might appear to be. In fact, he was nearly the opposite of that.
Growing up in the projects had been difficult for Dennis. His light skin was a beacon for anyone who wanted an easy punching bag. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Nor did it make a lot of sense, but the other kids resented his obvious parentage, and he had been bullied and made fun of incessantly throughout his younger years.
Once, when he was ten, he had stood up to them, and given as good as he got. The bullying had stopped, then, but few of the other kids really accepted him. He was different, and to most young minds, different equaled something to avoid. And so, they did. Dennis had grown up with only one real friend and a handful of acquaintances. Everyone else shunned him.
And that included the girls. He had only been on a few dates in his life, and those, he suspected, were out of pity. Nobody really wanted to hang out with him, much less date him. The result was that, at eighteen, Dennis had only ever kissed two girls before Becky. And he certainly hadn't had any second dates.
His lack of dating also meant that he was a virgin – a fact about which he tried to avoid even thinking. But all of that, he hoped, was about to change. Becky liked him, it seemed, and he liked her. The possibilities in front of him excited him as he walked home.
A couple of weeks later, his life had taken a decidedly upward turn, and Becky had almost everything to do with that. They saw each other almost daily, and both enjoyed the other's company. Dennis couldn't believe his luck; stranded for nearly his whole life on an island of solitude, and he had hit it off with the one person who didn't have some preconceived notion about who or what he was. And she was quite pretty – that might have had something to do with his notions of good fortune.
He knew it was a little pathetic, and quite shallow, but he was not immune to a pretty girl's affections. Her personality placed a distant third behind her looks and the fact that she seemed to like him. Dennis simply hadn't experienced those two things working in concert before.
Perhaps he should have paid more attention to what sort of person she really was, because that would factor quite a bit more into his future than her looks or seeming affection. She had seemed such a normal girl at first glance, but that had been a facade. She was arrogant, carrying an air of superiority that was unmistakeable even to Dennis' clouded mind. She thought she was better than the people around her, and made little effort to hide her feelings. She was also spiteful and vindictive, more than once displaying a blatant disregard for anyone else's situation, circumstance or how her words or actions might affect them.
Ah, but lust is blind, and Dennis ignored what he knew to be true. Becky was a bad person, but she was good-looking, and she liked Dennis. So her personality problems were swept under the rug...at least at first.
Three weeks after the two had started dating, they were in her small bedroom, making out when things started getting hot and heavy. His hand crept under her shirt, and ventured toward Becky's ample breast, and to his surprise, she didn't stop him. It was the first time he had ever touched a girl's chest, and the excitement of it nearly overwhelmed him.
Becky pulled away, and nearly ripped her shirt off. Next came her bra. Dennis had seen hundreds of pairs of breasts on the internet (his mother had bought the high speed service, thinking he would use it for educational purposes), but they were absolutely nothing compared to the real thing, live and in person.
His mouth fell open, but he tried to cover for the fact that he was acting like exactly what he was (an innocent virgin) by leaning in, and tonguing Becky's nipples. She seemed to like it, because she moaned. After a few seconds, Becky stood, and pushed Dennis back onto the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, and looked at Becky. She knelt between his legs, and began unbuttoning his jeans. She pulled them off with a wicked smile. Next came his underwear, exposing his limp penis.
Dennis had always been a little self-conscious about his dick. He knew the stereotypes; black men had bigger dicks than white men, and his father had been white. Would he get that same gene? That worry colored his feelings of inadequacy, and he had taken to measuring his cock with regularity. He knew that it was about average, but each time he looked at it, he thought about just how much smaller it was when compared to the ones he had seen on the internet. All of those thoughts flew through his mind as Becky took his cock into her wet mouth. To his surprise, however, it did not get hard. She licked, she kissed, and she sucked for a few minutes, but it just wouldn't cooperate. Finally, she pulled away in disgust.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked. “Don't you like girls?”
Dennis was mortified. He didn't know what was wrong. “I – I don't know.”
Becky pulled her shirt back on, and walked to the door. “Hey Trent! Come in here and look at this sissy.”
“What are you doing?” Dennis asked, panicking. He started to pull his underwear back on, but Becky yanked the garment away.
“No. You just sit there,” she said. A few seconds later, a big black man a few years older than Dennis entered the room. Dennis recognized him as Becky's older cousin.
“What's up?” Trent asked.
“Nothing is --” Dennis began, but was cut off by a sharp look from Becky.
“This little faggot has been leading me on for the last three weeks,” Becky said. “And he doesn't even like girls. He can't even get hard for me.”
Dennis spoke up, “It's not that, Becky. I do like girls. I don't know --” And she slapped him.
“So if you don't like girls,” Trent said, unzipping his pants. “I guess you like men, then?” He pulled out his big cock. “Do you like this?” It was huge – much bigger than Dennis' penis. And it drew Dennis' eyes.
He tried to hide it. He wanted to, but without pants, it was impossible to conceal his hardening penis.
“I knew it!” Becky exclaimed. “He loves the cock!”
The next few weeks were absolute hell for Dennis. He had tried to go about his business as usual for the first couple of days, but quickly found that whispers and giggles followed him wherever he went. He still didn't know what had happened. Never before had he been excited by the sight of a penis; it just didn't make any sense.
He had quickly pulled on his clothes after he had been aroused by Trent, and left in tears. He cried for almost two hours, lying in his bed, but soon, curiosity outweighed his embarrassment. Dennis went to his computer, opened the internet browser and went to one of his favorite pornography websites. His penis didn't stir as he looked at the naked women. Hesitantly, Dennis searched for “hot naked men” and was quickly inundated by images of just that. As he stared, he felt his penis harden.
Did that make him gay? Is that how it worked? You go to sleep one night liking girls, and then the next, you want men? No. That didn't seem right at all.
Even Ike had abandoned Dennis; he was completely, unequivocally alone. He hardly left the house, and when he did, Dennis kept his head down, and didn't look anyone in the eye. He only had to make it to the fall, and then, at college, no one would know his secret. Or so it would have been if he hadn't started to change.
It wasn't anything big, at first. Just some itchy nipples. Dennis assumed that he had a rash or something. But over the course of a week, the itch faded in favor of increased sensitivity to all stimuli. Both the nipples themselves, and the areolas grew and darkened. He knew that something was wrong, but he tried to deny it, tried to say that he was having some sort of allergic reaction.
He couldn't deny the changes, however, when, in the middle of the summer, he noticed that he felt smaller. Things he had once been able to reach with ease were now just out of his grasp, and he knew he had lost weight. His body just felt...different.
It was two weeks later when he decided to really look at himself. He had avoided even thinking about the changes, much less examining his body. However, he couldn't deny that his clothes simply did not fit anymore – not even close. He decided to really look, to really inspect the changes.
So, with only about four weeks left until he was scheduled to go to college, Dennis stood in his room, and stripped his clothes off. They practically fell off, everything was so big. He looked in the mirror, and gasped. He hardly recognized his own reflection. How could he have ignored the severity if the changes?
The first thing he noticed was his skin. He had always been a little lighter than most of the other guys he knew (a token of his interracial parentage), but not so much as to stand out. Now, though, his skin was more tan than black, almost like a Latino. Then he saw his hair, it seemed straighter than it had before. His eyes flowed to his face, and what he saw was the reflection of a person who could have been his sister. Gone were the sharp edges, and no longer did his jaw seem even remotely square. His brow had shrunk, and his eyes seemed bigger. In short, he was pretty. Not handsome. Pretty. Like a girl.
He had shrunk as well, and his formerly 5'8” frame had lost nearly six inches in height, and he guessed that he barely weighed 110 lbs, if that. But that wouldn't have been that bad, except that his entire shape had changed. Narrow shoulders, thin waist, wide hips, round butt, and a curved tummy had replaced his masculine physique. Much of his muscle tone was gone as well.
Then there was his penis. It was positively tiny, and he estimated that it was only a third of its former size.
He was on the verge of panic. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Did he have some sort of disease? Was he turning into a girl?
After staring at himself, asking a hundred questions in his mind, for almost ten minutes, Dennis decided that he needed more information. However, he couldn't bring himself to go to a doctor. For one, he was extraordinarily embarrassed. For another, he didn't have insurance, and no way to pay one. He chose to consult the internet instead.
What he found was quite surprising. Others, it seemed, were experiencing nearly identical symptoms, and they were attributed to a Dr. Omar Bell. The name sounded familiar to Dennis, but he couldn't place it. Finally, he found an explanation in the form of a letter written by Dr. Bell himself. It read as follows:
For too long, we African Americans have stood by, and let the rest of the world discriminate against us. We have taken it until we can take it no longer. So, I have decided to do something to take the rest of you down a rung. I'm sure you won't believe me at first, but over time, you will see that this is no hoax.
I have decided to make a little change in the hierarchy of our species. Earlier this week, I released a biological agent into the atmosphere, and tests have shown that that agent had spread throughout the world's air supply.
Do not panic. I am not trying to kill anyone, though I'm sure some would wish it. No, the agent is designed to do one thing: reassert the dominance of the black race. This chemical will only affect white males.
Ah, but what will it do to those oppressors? Well, it will do a number of things. The changes (which are permanent and irreversible) will take a variable amount of time, depending on the person, and are purely physiological.
1. White mailes will shrink slightly to be more in line with the height and weight range of white females. There are few ways to predict how it will affect individuals in this regard, but I've found that, generally, you will skew a little towards the size range you would have been, had you been born female (although, it will probably be a little on the low side of that range).
2. Their already small pensises and testicles will shrink to better match their smaller bodies.
3. Their anuses wiill gain elasticity and sensitivity, effectively making it a sex organ.
4. The pitch of their voices will rise.
5. Their hips will widen, and their shape will generally become more feminine.
6. Their nipples will enlarge slightly, and they will gain sensitivity.
7. Finally, their muscularture will become greatly reduced, and their skin and basic face shape will soften.
Basically, the white male will become something in between the current idea of male and a female (with a heavy leaning towards femininity). As I said, these changes are permanent and irreversible. All (current and future) white males will show these traits.
As I said, most people will not lend credence to these claims until after the changes start (which should be quite soon), but after a year or two, the world will have changed, and I think for the better.
Dr. Omar Bell
Dennis re-read it a few times over, trying to get a handle on it. With the exception of the voice change, it described what had happened to him perfectly. But why him? He wasn't white. He had seen others of interracial parentage, and they hadn't been affected like him.
And then he remembered his great grandmother. She was white. He supposed that had tipped the scales. He had no idea what to do about it, though. He was changed, and he expected at least a few more changes to take place before he was through. He knew his voice would change eventually.
The prospect scared him, and more than a little. He was alone in so many respects. He had no friends left, and he rarely saw his mother – sometimes he would go weeks without seeing her face because she worked almost constantly. As a result, they weren't close; they hadn't been for years. But he was by himself in another way; he was a feminized black man. The gravity of that solitude nearly overwhelmed Dennis. He knew that his situation was rare, and he had no choice but to face it alone.
Finally, after much thought, he broke down and cried. Nothing, he knew, would ever be the same. Most of all, though, he feared that his condition would continue his status as an outcast even after he enrolled in college. That one bastion of blessed anonymity had been taken from him. Would he be ostracized? His skin was lighter, but he was still plainly black, so hiding in a crowd of feminized white boys would be next to impossible. He thought briefly about posing as a girl, but dismissed it almost immediately. He wasn't a girl. Something inside him wouldn't let him pretend otherwise. He may not have been a real man anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to try to pass himself off as a girl.
Then, as if hit by a ton of bricks, Dennis had an epiphany. He was who he was, and if people couldn't accept it, to hell with them. The comfort of that thought let him fall asleep that night.
Dennis' voice broke two days before he was scheduled to enroll in college, resulting a voice similar to the voices of any number of girls his age. In addition, he had started pilfering clothes from his mother – mostly just jeans, tee-shirts, and shorts. They were a little big on him, but the garments fit him much better than his own clothes.
Even so, he still looked disheveled when he arrived at his dormitory on the day he was supposed to check in. However, he saw many others who looked worse than him, with clothes many times too large for their small frames.
He approached the woman standing in front of the dorm, and said, “I'm here to check in.” And he told her his name.
She went down the list in her hand, and said, “Oh, you didn't get the notice? Boys like you will be thrown in with the girls. We had a few incidents with sexual assault, and we can't take that chance by putting you all in with the men.”
Dennis was a little surprised, but didn't say anything. The woman directed him to his new dorm assignment, and he went on his way.
It wasn't terribly far away, and he made quick time. At least Dennis didn't have multiple boxes (he only had two suitcases) like some of the others. The walk did, however, give Dennis the opportunity to see some of his future classmates.
It was so strange, looking around. The white boys were easily distinguishable from the white girls, because none had breasts. It was something else, too, but Dennis couldn't quite put his finger on it. Sure, they wore their clothes uncomfortably (very few had clothes that really fit), but that wasn't really what set them apart.
He arrived at his dorm, but had to wait in line for his room assignment. After about half an hour, he found himself standing outside of his new home, hesitating to go in. What would he say to his new roommate? Would they like him? Would he like them? Would it be another boy like him? Or would it be a girl? He took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Empty. His heart sank a little. Would they put him in a room by himself? That wouldn't be so bad, would it? Sure, he had had ideas of gaining a friend, of hanging out with his roommate, but living alone wouldn't be that different from the life he had left behind. He set his suitcases on one of the beds, and began to unpack his mismatched clothes.
A few minutes later, the door opened, and Dennis looked up. In the doorway stood a petite white girl with blonde hair; she was about the same size as Dennis, but she was all woman. Her breasts weren't huge, but they were noticeable and perky. She smiled. “Hi. I'm Amber.”
“Dennis,” he answered.
“Mom, Daddy. It's down here,” she called out the hall. A few seconds later, a pair of people appeared behind Amber. Neither was really tall, but one was clearly her feminized father, and the other was her mother. Amber introduced Dennis to them, and once her things were inside the room, they said their goodbyes.
Once Amber's parents were gone, she said, “So, having a little trouble with finding clothes that fit?” She giggled, but it wasn't a spiteful laugh. It as genuinely mirthful, and it put Dennis at ease.
“I guess. These were my mom's,” he responded. “I couldn't afford to buy a new wardrobe, so...”
“I understand. My dad had a similar problem. You can borrow some of my clothes if you want,” Amber said. “We're about the same size, I think.”
Dennis was dumbfounded. He had never encountered such kindness before in all of his life. Where he came from, nobody would have offered him any sort of help, and certainly without some ulterior motive. He couldn't help but ask, “Why help me?”
Amber seemed genuinely surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
“We just met. You don't know me. Why would you help me?” Dennis asked. “Not that I'm ungrateful. I appreciate it. It's just that...well, in my experience, help isn't just given like that.”
She looked away, silent for a moment. When she looked back at Dennis, he could see the true concern in her eyes. He'd never be able to explain exactly what it looked like, or why he trusted her, but he did. She said, “Oh, honey, that is so sad. I just know how difficult it is for you...boys. My dad is going through the same thing, you know. It's such a big change; I just thought we shouldn't add ill-fitting clothes to the list of challenges you're facing.”
Dennis was thankful for her offer of help, and he wanted to accept. However, never having anything given to him meant that Dennis simply didn't know how to respond to an offer of help. So, he said the only thing he could. “Thanks.”
Amber smiled. “Now let's see if we can get you into some proper clothes.” She immediately opened one of her bags, and began pulling things out. Dennis stood by, unsure of what to do until Amber said, “Get undressed, silly.”
Dennis hesitated, and Amber said, “There's no point being shy. It's not like it's going to be the last time I see you without clothes on. We are room mates after all.” And she went back to digging through her bags.
He didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he still wasn't comfortable with his body. On the other, he didn't want to disappoint or offend what he hoped was his new friend. In the end, his loneliness won out, and he started to take his shirt off. Next came his pants. There he stood in his extremely baggy boxer shorts, waiting for Amber to finish.
“You certainly can't wear those under these clothes. They would bunch up too badly,” Amber said. She reached over, and pulled down his boxers. Her casual manner told Dennis that she considered him just like one of the girls, completely harmless. She tossed him a pair of pink panties. “Put those on.” He did, and they fit surprisingly well. His small penis barely made a bump in the crotch.
She handed him a pair of shorts and a tank top, which he put on. “Perfect,” Amber said. “Take a look.” She pointed to their mirror. Dennis strode to it, and looked at himself. The effect of the feminine clothes was staggering. He certainly hadn't expected it, but his body was, simply put, perfectly proportioned. If he had a pair of breasts, he would look like a strikingly beautiful young woman.
“You are so pretty,” Amber said, looking over his shoulder. “And that's without any makeup and with that horrid hairstyle.”
He looked at his hair. He had been ashamed to even show his face around the neighborhood, so he had forgone any trips to the barber shop, so his hair had grown a bit. He had always kept it slightly longer than most – he liked the way it looked, but it had gotten a bit out of hand. The result was an unkempt afro.
“What do you suggest I do with it?” Dennis asked. “I'm not exactly experienced with this sort of thing. I've always just worn it, you know, like a guy.”
“Well, you can always straighten it. I'd suggest going to a salon and getting it chemically straightened, but you could use a flat iron,” Amber suggested. “Or you could just go natural. Either way, you're going to need to visit the stylist.”
Dennis thought about it. He had always liked the way straight hair looked on black girls. He said as much to Amber. She seemed excited, and immediately had her phone out, calling to make a hair appointment.
When she hung up, Dennis said, “Don't we need to, you know, get settled in first?”
“Nonsense. Getting you ready for your new life is far more important than unpacking,” Amber replied. “Now come on. I made you an appointment.” When she noticed Dennis' hesitation, she said, “My treat.” Dennis smiled.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem,” Amber answered.
Dennis fingered his silky hair as he stared in the mirror. The stylist had straightened it and even given him subtle blond highlights. And Dennis had to admit that it looked good – a lot better than it had before he had gone. It was still short, coming down to just past his jaw, but it had a slight flip to it on the ends. He didn't know what it was called, but he liked it.
“Quit playing with it,” Amber said as she unpacked her things.
He and Amber had used the salon trip as an opportunity to really talk. Dennis had told her his story, of how he had grown up, and about the projects. She, in turn, told him about life in the suburbs, about how she had been a cheerleader in high school, and how she wanted to be an engineer. It seemed like the two mixed quite well together. But it was an odd feeling for Dennis. For as long as he could remember, if a girl had been nice to him, he had immediately started to daydream about what life would be like if she were his girlfriend. But with Amber, no such thoughts came to mind. Sure, he thought about things they might do together, and he was certainly nervous that he might somehow say the wrong thing, and end the friendship. But none of it was romantic in the slightest.
“So, you can use whatever clothes you need until we can get you some clothes of your own. Just make sure to wash whatever you use, and I'll do the same,” Amber said without looking up from her task. “It'll be a little tight, but I think if we wash clothes maybe twice a week, we won't have any problems.”
“Okay,” Dennis replied. “I'm planning on looking for a job as soon as possible, though.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind?” Amber asked.
“I don't know. I've only ever worked in labor type jobs – like one summer, I worked in a warehouse. But now, that sort of job is kind of...”
“Out of bounds,” Amber finished. “Something will come along, I'm sure. A pretty boy like you? Just flirt a little, and anyone will give you a job.”
Dennis blushed, and Amber laughed.
After a few minutes of silence, Amber said, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“Shoot,” Dennis replied.
“Well, a lot of the boys at my high school, the ones like you, I mean. Once they changed, a few of them kind of stopped liking girls, and started going, you know, for guys,” she said. “I was just wondering if you like men or women.”
Dennis was a little surprised by the question, and when he hesitated, Amber said, “Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'm always so nosy. You don't have to answer.”
“No, it's not that. I'm not mad or anything. Look, you've helped me so much, and, well, I've only known you for a day, and already you're the best friend I've ever had,” Dennis said. Amber started to say something, but Dennis interrupted her. “It's just that I'm not sure. I know I used to like girls a lot....” And he launched into his story. He told Amber about what had happened with Becky and Trent, and how word had spread, rendering him an outcast. “It was before anyone knew what was really going on. I hadn't changed in any other way yet, so they just assumed that I had all of a sudden gone gay. Now, though, even knowing that it's a result of this virus or chemical or whatever it was, I can't help who I'm attracted to. I wish I could just choose to be a certain way. I don't know if I really like men or want a relationship with one, but I do know that my body reacts to them.”
Amber didn't say anything. She simply walked over to where Dennis sat, and hugged him.
Jobs were few and far between. Dennis had been looking for almost two weeks, and had found nothing. Aside from that, his life was better than it had ever been. He and Amber had continually grown closer, each sharing secrets with the other. And they went everywhere together; they even had a few classes in common. They were different majors (Dennis' was biology, and Amber's was engineering), but they had managed to get into the same survey courses.
Dennis' attitude and demeanor changed a lot in those first two weeks. He credited Amber with most of it. She was so upbeat and optimistic that her mere presence pushed Dennis' innate moodiness into the background. As for his demeanor, he couldn't help but become more feminine. After all, he spent all of his time with Amber, and she was about as feminine as anyone could be. That, coupled with the fact that they dressed alike (and nobody could call any of Amber's clothes unisex), and it was only natural that he pick up on some of her mannerisms.
Amber was sitting at her desk, and Dennis was folding laundry when he said, “It's just that nobody seems to be hiring.”
“You could always wait tables or something,” Amber suggested. “Lots of people work their way through college like that.”
“I thought about that, but all of them want some sort of experience,” Dennis responded. “Which I don't have.”
Amber turned, and said, “The way you look? I bet you'd get hired in an instant, experience or not. You have to start using the tools at your disposal. Men are easy. Just flirt with them a little, and they'll do whatever you want.”
“But I'm not a girl,” Dennis said. “Isn't that, you know, a big part of that equation?”
“You really don't pay much attention to what's going on, do you?” Amber said. “It's a different world, now. I don't know how to explain it properly, but I found an article a couple of days ago that was perfect.” She waved Dennis over, and clicked her mouse a few times. By the time Dennis stood behind her, she had an internet article on the screen. “Read that.” It read as follows:
Adjustment: What Every Sissy Should Know
by Yvonne Harris
A couple of months ago, Dr. Omar Bell released a biochemical agent into the atmosphere which, over the last few months, has effectively eradicated our idea of the white male. Gone is the masculine all-American man, and in his place is a petite (usually no taller than 5'6”) cross between a boy and a woman. But I don't need to tell you that. Chances are that if you're reading this, you know first hand how you've changed. The purpose of this article is meant to be informative. I keep seeing white males (which I will, from now on, call bois) running around still trying to act like a man. You are not. You are a boi. But this article is meant to address a few main issues: comportment, sex (naughty!), and dress. So, without further ado, here we go!
As intimated previously, the first issue I will touch on is comportment. What does that mean, you might ask. Well, comportment is a fancy term for how you behave, but it's more than that. It includes everything from posture to the way you might walk. This might seem strange that you bois might need to learn how to act differently, but, well, you look silly trying to act like a man. Imagine a teenage girl trying to act like her daddy. That's how strange it is to see a boi strutting around like a man.
No, bois should act differently because you are different. I can't stress that enough. So, a few pointers for you bois out there. First, try to keep your back slightly arched. It will make your rear-end look just absolutely darling. Second, try to sway your hips a little. Men like that (more on that later). Third, don't be afraid to do aerobic. You need to keep your figure. A fat boi is a lonely boi. I recommend stripperaerobics, but anything will do. But the most important tip I can give you is this: watch women and imitate them. You are far closer to one of them (with quite similar sexual goals, I might add – again, more on that later), and they've been doing it for a lot longer than you have. Watch us, bois, and learn!
The second thing we need to talk about is dress. Most of you have probably noticed that none of your clothes even remotely fit anymore (unless you were one scrawny boy to begin with). So, you will need to buy a whole new wardrobe. Most department stores have opened a new section aimed directly at bois, so that's a good place to start. But if you're on a budget, don't be afraid to borrow from a girlfriend, wife, or a sister if they're close to your size.
A few things to note, though. I'll start with undergarments. Bois wear panties. Yes. Not briefs. Not boxers. Panties. Your shape dictates that you wear them. Learn to love it. I myself just love wearing a new, sexy pair of panties. They just make me feel so confident! Some bois have fully embraced their femininity and started wearing bras. I applaud your adaptability, but I am of the humble opinion that bois shouldn't wear them. They don't, after all, have breasts (yet! Who knows what that crazy Dr. Bell did?). But you aren't girls. You are bois. Bois don't have breasts, so have no need for bras.
As for outerwear, it is appropriate for a boi to wear basically anything a girl might wear. Everything from skirts to jeans to blouses and dresses. If you think you look good, then wear it. But be advised: you will look silly in male clothes (if you can find some that even remotely fit right). You'll never get a man like that. No, stick to the women's or bois (or even the juniors section).
Finally, I want to talk a little bit about sex. If you are offended by it, just quit reading now.
Okay, still with me? Good. You bois may have noticed a certain lack of size in the genitals department. Many of you may have been embarrassed by this development. Don't be! It's perfectly natural for a boi to have a small penis. Recent studies have shown that the average white male's penis is now around an inch and a half long when flaccid, but it's not uncommon for them to be even smaller (My husband's is actually less than an inch long. It's just as cute as can be!). Don't worry bois, those things aren't terribly important anymore, and I'll tell you why.
You may have noticed that your anus is quite a bit more sensitive than it was before. That is by design. Think of it as your new sex organ. Women have vaginas. Men have their penises. And bois have their anuses. Don't be afraid to try it out, take that thing out for a spin, if you will. Borrow your girlfriend's vibrator (or your sister's if you're comfortable asking for it) and go to town! You'll soon find that it's “just heavenly” (my husband's words).
Now comes what will be the biggest change to your life. You've probably already guessed it. But bois belong with men. It is simple science. Bois emit almost identical pheromones to that of women, and studies have shown that they respond similarly to women when exposed to male pheromones. What does that mean? Sorry bois, but you are attracted to men now. More, though, men will be attracted to you. Resist that attraction if you want, but it's natural. Couple that with the fact that they have the equipment to please you, and you'll see why man/boi relationships have risen by 400% since Dr. Bell released his concoction on the world.
A lot of bois will refuse to accept that being heterosexual means that they prefer men. This means that these bois will basically become lesbians. Or at least for all practical purposes, they will. Most of these women married (or were girlfriends ) to men. That in mind, I suggest you take a trip to your local “adult” store and browse for something, ah...penetrative. You're both going to get urges, so it's best to have something on hand that might satisfy you.
I suspect that many of you reading this are still in denial. Time for some tough love. Look in the mirror, honey. What do you see? Is that a man? Certainly not. Is it a woman? Nope. That is a boi staring back at you. Time to start acting the part.
Now, you may need counseling, and that's fine. The government has set up counseling centers around the country for just such a need. Go there. Learn to accept the new you. I hope that this article has helped you. Thanks, and see you next week when we examine just what your panties say about you as a person.
It all made sense. The pheromone thing explained why he was no longer sexually attracted to women. Dennis breathed a sigh of relief. He had thought that maybe he was some sort of freak. That he was perfectly normal (at least in that new world of three genders) was such a comfort.
But the article explained some other things about which he had been wondering. The first was the clothes. Most bois he had seen had been dressed in feminine, but very conservative clothes. However, he had begun to see bois in dresses and skirts. Perhaps this new attitude toward what was proper for a boi was responsible.
Next, it explained why he had seen so many black men with bois on their arms. He had assumed that it was just a college thing, where people were more prone to experiment with their sexuality, but now, he knew that it was just bois acting like bois should. As the article said, bois belonged with men. Even as he had read the article, Dennis knew it to be true. He had known since his reaction to Trent's exposed penis.
And the article made Amber's suggestion all the more valid. Dennis could say without arrogance that he was a very pretty boi, maybe even beautiful. And he felt unique, even though he was sure there were other bois out there who had been the product of interracial couplings. However, he hadn't seen any others, and that made Dennis feel special, exotic even.
He decided to take Amber's advice, and apply for jobs waiting tables.
Dennis and Amber talked about the article and its implications for a while, and Dennis began to fully embrace his new status.
Two days later, Dennis sat across from a big Latino man named Rico. Dennis had gotten an interview based, he thought, solely on his looks, but the interview had been like any other he had been on. He tried to flirt, but quickly found that it was an art he had not yet mastered. The man hardly responded to his charms.
Dennis did not have high hopes as he left the restaurant after the interview. He looked back. Hooters. Of course the man wouldn't hire Dennis. He didn't have the right assets, but Dennis had been persuaded by Amber to at least try. She had said that Hooters waitresses earned far more money than servers at other restaurants, and Dennis had turned a blind eye to the fact that he simply didn't qualify for the job.
He went back to his dorm room, finding it empty. So he settled down to do his homework. About an hour into his work, Dennis' phone rang. He picked it up.
“Hello?” he said into the phone. “Oh, yes, I'm still interested. Of course. I'll be there tomorrow night.” He smiled as he hung up the phone. He was going to be a Hooters boi! Dennis immediately called Amber, and told her the news. She was even happier than he was.
“We just have to celebrate. Not tonight, because I have two tests tomorrow – maybe this weekend?” Amber suggested. “We can go dancing.”
Dennis was so happy that he didn't even hesitate. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“The ACLU has been on our ass for years about our lack of gender equality, so hopefully, this will shut them up,” Rico said to Dennis the next day. He had shown up about fifteen minutes early, and been directed to Rico's office. Rico handed him a bundle of clothes. “Your uniform. We're going to start you out as a hostess, just to get your feet wet. When you get dressed, Irene will get you started.”
Recognizing the dismissal, Dennis ducked out of the office, and into the small locker room for the waitresses. Inside, he found a handful of half naked and beautiful women. He smiled slightly, thinking about what he would have given to be in that room not six months before. As it stood, though, he only saw women – potential friends or maybe even rivals, but not objects of desire.
He found an empty locker, and started to get undressed.
“So you're the sissy, huh?” a black girl asked. “Going to try to steal all the tips? Taking our men isn't enough for you?”
“What?” Dennis asked.
“I --” the black girl started, but was cut off by a tall blonde woman.
“Oh, shut up, Jackie. He's just trying to make the best of his situation. Leave him alone,” she said to the black girl. She turned to Dennis. “I'm Irene. Don't mind Jackie. She just caught her boyfriend in bed with a boi, so she's a little bitter right now.”
“Oh,” was all Dennis could think to say. He examined the garments in his hands. There was a white Hooters top, orange shorts, tan hose, white socks, white shoes, and a name tag with his name on it. He finished undressing, and first slipped the hose up his smooth legs. Amber had shown him how to do it with tearing them. Then came the shorts – the felt so tight! Next came the top, which was also quite snug. Finally, he pulled on the socks and then tennis shoes.
He looked in a nearby mirror. The tightness of the whole outfit left very little to the imagination. His round hips, plump butt, and the rest of his tight body were on full display. Dennis' eyes found his crotch, and he saw that his small penis made a barely noticeable bulge. He looked at his chest, and saw that his puffy nipples poked out, stretching the thin fabric. All in all, he thought that the effect was quite sexy.
Dennis turned, and saw Irene looking at him. How long had she been there, watching him admire himself in the mirror.
“Don't be embarrassed. If I had a body like that, I'd stare at it too,” she said with a smile. Dennis liked her almost immediately. Irene was tall at around 5”10' and had quite large breasts (obviously augmented surgically), but an otherwise thin frame. Her smile was warm and welcoming, and Dennis couldn't help but feel at ease around her.
It was just as well, because the following shift was an absolute nightmare for Dennis. He had been prepared for the inevitable catcalls, flirting, and wandering hands, but Dennis had not anticipated just how difficult the job itself would be. Everything moved so quickly, and that was just with him working as a hostess. By the end of his shift, as he was undressing, Dennis began to doubt his decision to work there.
“Chin up, boi,” he heard Irene say from behind him. “You did better than my first day, I'll tell you that. I broke down into tears about halfway through the shift. You'll be fine.”
Surprisingly, the words did comfort Dennis. He could do the job so long as he kept from getting too frazzled, he knew. It was just a matter of getting used to the hustle and bustle of the place.
That Friday night, Dennis had an off-night. He had worked every other day that week, and had started to acclimate himself to the frantic pace. He was, however quite happy to have a night off. But that happiness was tinged with quite a bit of nervousness.
Tonight was the night when Amber wanted to celebrate, and that meant going out dancing (something Dennis had never done before). Amber had chosen a cute little outfit for him – just some tight pants and a tight, oxford style blouse – and the two went down to a local club.
Everywhere he looked, Dennis saw bois dancing with, flirting with, and even kissing men. He had expected it, of course, but expecting it and seeing it were two very different things. All of a sudden, he felt uneasy. What if a man tried to kiss him? What if one felt him up? Would he have to dance with them? And what about the dancing? Dennis knew how; he had seen women dance quite often, but he doubted his own ability. Sure, he had faced similar conundrums at work the last few days, but there, he had been insulated by the fact that it was work. The uniform acted almost like a disguise, hiding the real Dennis behind a facade of flirtatious femininity. But standing in that club, watching other bois on the dance floor, Dennis was laid bare. He felt completely and utterly self-conscious.
“Just relax, Dennis,” Amber said. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”
Amber's voice brought him back to himself, easing his panic. She was right, of course. Steeling himself, he said, “Let's dance.”
Dennis had been to clubs before, but nothing could have prepared him for how different it was for him after the change. He practically felt men's eyes on him as he danced with Amber. And he liked it. He had never been one to really draw attention to himself, but Dennis found himself trying to dance more sexily, actively eliciting the attentions of men.
He rubbed against them, feeling their packages, and their strong hands wandered all over his body. Dennis realized about halfway through the night that it wasn't so much that he liked the way men felt (though he did acknowledge that that was part of it), but rather how it felt to be wanted. He knew that nearly every man in that building wanted him, and he reveled in that fact.
Finally, after hours on the dance floor, Dennis was completely spent. He knew that, had he wanted, the men would have lined up to go home with him, but he and Amber returned to their dorm alone.
Life fell into a rhythm of school, work, and the occasional party. Day by day, week by week, Dennis became more and more comfortable with his new life, and he and Amber grew ever closer until each called the other best friend. It wasn't long before Dennis was promoted from hostess to server, and his tips increased quite a bit.
He slept with his first man just before winter break. It hurt a bit at first, but soon, that pain turned to pleasure, and Dennis reacted as with enthusiasm. Looking back, Dennis couldn't even remember the man's name, but he remembered the way the man looked, the way his cock as it pounded away. That one event was a turning point for Dennis. From then on, he left the shy, reserved, and chronically embarrassed former man behind, and completely embraced his boihood.
It wasn't long after that when Dennis started really dating. Each weekend, he would go out with a different guy, sampling all the world had to offer. Some he slept with, some he didn't. Amber, for her part, was supportive, and even double dated with him on numerous occasions. Once, (after a drunken decision they would later regret), they participated in a foursome with two men. Basically, they were quite typical college students, experimenting, and just plain having fun.
It wasn't until after college, when Dennis was working on his master's degree and Amber was an engineer that she revealed that her feelings for Dennis went far beyond friendship.
“I love you,” she said over dinner that night. “I always have.”
Dennis didn't know what to say. Sure, he had thought about Amber that way a few times, but only in passing. He had dismissed those thoughts as remnants of his former life, but were they something else? Did he feel the same about Amber? In the back of his mind, Dennis had always sort of known that Amber's feelings transcended mere friendship, but until she said it outright, Dennis had been able to ignore it.
“I...I don't know what to say, Amber,” Dennis said. “I love you, but I don't know what it is. I thought we were just best friends, but ...”
“I shouldn't have said anything,” Amber said. “I'm sorry; I just couldn't --”
“Let me finish,” Dennis interrupted. “I have feelings for you too, and I think...I think we should explore those feelings.”
Without a word, Amber stood, and leaned over the table, kissing Dennis full on the lips. As soon as her lips touched his, he knew. There was an attraction there, maybe not the same one that he felt around men, but an attraction just as strong.
Finally, he had found that elusive thing he had forever wanted. He had found someone who actually truly loved him. Not just the way he looked, and not because of how he might pleasure them, or look on their arm, but something else. Amber loved him for him.
Did they live happily ever after? Probably not. Dennis was a very damaged boi, and Amber, for her part, was probably quite a bit more attracted to Dennis than he was to her. But in that moment, they were in love. Where there is love, there is hope. Can anyone ask for more?