It’s Better As Her

Because dammit I just wanted now. I just wanted everything that I could have. I wanted more than that, but this would be enough. Right?

But even as I said that and even as I tried to focus on the image of this body losing itself in the mirror I knew that there was an easier path and it might have been a fucking weakness to give in but the reward was enough to make me forget about it.

My mind. My mind wandered out of my own control. It ran through all of the touch and all of the sensation and all those delicious possibilities of the future and it fucking indulged in it.

I did the one thing I probably shouldn’t have. I closed my eyes and I remembered instead.

It was my hands on my body but my mind and my memory made them belong to someone else. Not my fingers between my legs but that of another lover.

Of Rachel, her touch so delicate and skilled and familiar. Her feminine desire building and building on my own and bringing me closer to my release.

Blake next, his touch not unwanted any longer. His desire for me only fueling my own and all of the history we had between each other melting away as he gave me every last inch of himself.

And Eddie next taking with his greedy thrusts but that disregard enticing in its own way. His pulsing need bringing shame but desire and all of it fueling me and making it so much more.

Lastly Lucas. Older and more skilled and all of his attentions and experience making it oh so easy for me to moan, making it only too easy for me to tumble over the edge.

Others. Maybe.

Maybe more. Maybe a lifetime of lovers masculine and feminine and somewhere in between. Maybe each one unique and each one skilled in their own way. Maybe each one teaching me a new way to love this body that I’m in.

A confusion. A tangle of all of them. Memory melding with fantasy and dream as it was all of them on me and none of them at the same time. My touch and my fingers and my touch but more than that. It was fingers one moment and then something else the next. Thick and long and undeniably masculine or feminine and skilled and flexible and imagination and reality at the same time.

Touching and grasping and nearly reaching into it. All of them around me and all of them wanting me.

Those four and a dozen other lovers and more. All of the potential of this new body striking me all at once as it rose, as it peaked, as it reached the height that I’d never been able to attain before.

Writhing now in the bed and **** for more and finding it and then losing myself in it. Thrusting into myself as my eyes opened and cast away the illusion in favor of the reality.

God the sight of her on that bed in repose. Her whole body tense as she hovered on the edge and needed that last little bit to tumble over into pleasure. Finding it in the least likely of places to me and finding it in a single moment that I couldn’t ignore and could have an even harder time denying.

It was her that pushed me over the edge. It was her that gave me the release I needed. Not her beauty and not her femininity, at least not in a way that had ever appealed to me as a man before.

No, it was being her. It was the utter satisfaction of being her. It was the certainty that I was her, that let me find my pleasure in the end.

I look so beautiful.

Four simple words and with them a momentary acceptance that was enough to make me lose my last measure of control.

Hands clenching at the bed sheets and back arching. Pleasure rushing through my veins and need pulsing through the core of me. Roaring up for attention, unable to be ignored and not wanting to ignore it either.

Liquid hot heat pumping through my veins and making my body tremble. Making me go tight and flex, my body curling in on myself as I stared my reflection dead in the eye and realized what it was that I wanted, that I needed in my heart of hearts.

Then loose next, my body flowing back into the bed before tightening so quick again. Rushing and springing and flexing and tightening as the spasms came over me, as they roared up from my chest to be muffled by my clamped hands.

My vision going blurry from tears that weren’t representative of sadness but instead of happiness and of exertion, as my body was pushed to limits I’d felt before and then beyond, to places and heights I didn’t know existed.

Rocked by it. Watching in the mirror as my body bounced and jiggled from the exertion and seeing the blush in my skin deepen to an even harder crimson. Seeing my knees trembling, my soft thighs clenching and holding my hand pinned down on my sex as I felt it pulse.

Pulsing with satisfied need and the knowledge that more was there for me if I wanted it. If I found the right person or just any person who could push me to new limits and confirm, time and again and again, the truth that I knew now.

Because all that I was experiencing was defined by the certainty that it was better as her. That I wanted to be her. That I needed to be her.

Emily was wanted. Emily was desired. Emily was needed, and if I embraced that need I could have it for my own.

And the thought that I could have that, that I could not be alone in this world, made me fall back with my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I panted and went limp, my hand slipping from my mouth as I gasped in air and felt the rising rush of another wave of pleasure rush through me.

No hand to mask my cries now as they ripped their way out of my chest, as the spasms overtook me and they left me little place to find respite. As I bent double and exerted all my effort to stare at at myself in the mirror in a confusion of pleasure.

As I realized what I wanted and knew that it meant that I would never be the same again.

But in the moment where I felt it all I knew it didn’t hurt. As I understood my ultimate truth I accepted it willingly.

And hell it might have been the pleasure and it might have only lasted for the moment, but in that moment I could cling to it like bedrock and use it to build something I could live with.

Because it felt good to be her. Because god I wanted to be her. Because this climax was this powerful, so much more potent than I’d ever had before, not just because it was felt with her body and her skin but because with it came acceptance of my ultimate truth.

I wanted to be Emily.

I fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily and spasming lightly, recovering bit by bit and gaining my senses and feeling this irrepressible change come over me. Giggling and smiling and flush with satisfied heat I knew it might not last.

It never had before, when I’d been a man, but maybe as a woman that too was different.

My climax had changed me. It had given me clarity. It had set me on the last path in the world I swore, from the moment I realized what had happened to me, I would ever be on.

It had changed me, but maybe, just maybe, that was all for the better.

I hope you enjoyed this double sized end to Chapter Three!

My Second Chance will return with Chapter Four on February 6th

In the meantime be sure to vote in the poll (https://s.surveyplanet.com/htocywkx) to help choose which dress Emily will wear out to the dance and you can check out my update post (https://chyoa.com/chapter/Chapter-Three-Done%21.1279749) for some thoughts and a glance at what's up ahead.

As always thanks for reading!

<3

Sophie

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