Dinner and a moving experience

"You're shivering, Dinky," said Brock. "Are you cold or scared of what happens after we're done?"

Dinner was nearly finished and the little femboy across the table from Brock was shaking like a newborn lamb. He was also as naked as one.

"N-no, I'm not s-scared," said Dinky. "B-but I am a little c-cold. Can I put on a p-pretty dress now, p-please?"

Brock patted a napkin over his smiling lips and stood up. He had been thinking about this next step for over a half an hour -- since he watched his ex-husband's plump and naked ass swishing around while setting the table.

"There's more than one way to warm you up," said Brock. "Go ahead into my closet. Or, I should say, to Funbags' closet. I think there's a nightie that will fit you. Maybe you can find some stockings. There's makeup and nail polish in the vanity too. Go on, make yourself pretty!"

Still shivering, but thrilled to be told to do something he desperately wanted to do, Dinky bolted up the stairs to the bedroom. Since his coordination was reduced to "clumsy" he tripped a few times on the way, but being short meant any fall was a minor one.

While the femboy gleefully tried on stockings and experimented with foundation and eyeliner, Brock took another look at the silver device. He wore the clothes that Dinky walked in with (when he was still Dirk). They were better than the crop top and skirt he had on before that, but they were still very loose. Time to change that.

Brock changed his height to 6'1" while keeping his weight the same. He adjusted his proportions and added "musculature of Davidian perfection" and in a snap he had the body of a greek god -- literally. The suit was still a little loose, but he planned on removing it soon, anyway. Next, he looked at the penis size option. He knew he was on the lower end of average, but he was not about to give himself a monstrous appendage like Dirk had. He replaced his old numbers with "4.5" Flaccid, 9" Erect" and instantly felt the space in his borrowed boxers get tighter. Then he increased his scrotum size and the volume of semen it produced, just to see what that might do.

"Okay, so I've got a killer bod," said Brock to himself. Then he reconsidered. "I've a man's killer bod. And the man that's been using me as a fucktoy for months is nowdolling himself up. Kind of obvious where this is going, but..."

He let the sentence hang in the air.

Do I really want to do this? Not just the sexual **** part -- the part of having sex with a femboy. Why didn't I just turn Dinky into a slut like he did to me? Hmm. I guess that's my answer. I don't want to be like that asshole. And yet, I'm planning on fucking him after transforming him. Doesn't really make me any better, does it? Shit. I guess I should go fix him.

Resolved to try a different way to get justice, Brock went up to the bedroom. The same bedroom that he -- as a woman -- got nailed on dozens of times every week for half a year. His resolve was bending, but did not break. He opened the door to the bedroom, phone in one hand ready to undo the changes he made, when he saw the most feminine, alluring little figure he could imagine reflected to him from the vanity mirror. Dinky's curly black hair cascaded around his soft, round face, whose big eyes looked enormous under layers of mascara and eye shadow. The pouty lips under his button nose were painted a soft shade of rose, and as their eyes met, those lips curled into the prettiest smile Brock had ever seen.

His cock enlarged to its newly edited maximum size.

"Dink, uh, *cough*, uh Dinky?" said Brock, trying to swallow the thumping heart that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

"Hi, Brocky!" said Dinky with a cheery smile. "Look! I did lipstick and eye stuff! I didn't know if I could, but I did it anyway. And I found the nightie, but all the socks and stuff were too big. Does it look okay?"

With that, Dinky got up and twirled like an awkward ballerina, nearly stumbling in the process. The partly see-through white nightie barely hid anything when it hung, but as he spun it lifted just high enough to give a peek of his pert bubble butt and floppy little dicklet. The sight confused Brock just as much as it excited him.

"Look, Dinky," he said. "I, um, I think I changed my mind. We shouldn't...that is...I'm straight. I don't know why I made you look like this, but I'm going to change it--"

"What?!" cried Dinky. "You don't like me no more? But I tried to make myself pretty, just like you asked! I'm sorry I'm so dumb! I did it all wrong, d-didn't I?"

With that, the half dressed femboy flopped belly-first on the bed and covered his face, alternating between heaving sobs to tears. Without another thought, Brock put down the silver phone and sat down with a gentle hand on the effeminate figure's shaking shoulder.

"No, that's not it!" said Brock. "Oh, come on, don't cry! You are pretty! Really! Maybe too pretty!"

Dinky sniffed hard and rolled over to lay on his back. His elbows naturally pointed out at right angles to hold up his limp-wristed hands. He looked up at Brock with wet, mascara-blackened tears.

"You really think I'm pretty?"

"What? Well, yes, but that's not the point," said Brock. "You're a boy, I mean, a man! You did a bad thing, but this isn't how I should, er...I mean..."

Brock's train of thought got derailed by Dinky's lithe little fingers caressing the bulge in his trousers. He opened his mouth to say no, but the word never came out. Instead he just sat there and watched as the petite sissy rolled his head on to his lap to nuzzle against the erection. The little fingers continued to stroke over the pants, and soon a damp patch formed near the bulge's tip. Seeing that, Dinky began rubbing the wet area even more quickly.

The attention from this delicate, elf-like waif was too much for Brock. He had all-but-forgotten about the silver device and his six-month transformation. Right now, all he could think about was the feminine creature with the caramel skin that was making love to his penis over his pants.

And that had to change right now.

Brock lifted the petite femboy, intending to look him in the eye, but between the man-boy's tiny size and Brock's new strength, he pulled too hard -- and instead of face-to-face they ended up lip-to-lip. The kiss was magical. Dinky put his skinny arms around Brock's neck as his legs wrapped around the man's waist. Then, the black-haired girl-man began to dry hump Brock, and the motion of his little ass hopping on his lap put Brock over the top.

"Ohhaa!" he groaned as his nine-inch erection strained against the fabric of his pantleg and erupted. Dinky stopped humping vigorously, but he continued to slowly move his body up and down against the larger man.

"Oh, my gawd," said Brock as his pulse slowed and he realized what just happened. Shame and elation warred in his head, but his boner remained as hard as ever.

"Look, Dinky -- Dirk -- whatever...," said Brock. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have...and it was so fast...I don't know what--"

"Shh!" said Dinky. "Your weenie is still hard. Can I take it out now?"