It’s new to you

Your slender fingers lightly brush the folds of your brand new slit. “Oh fuck. I’m a fucking girl.” You stand, bend forward, and look yourself over. Your skin is sun kissed you might say, white, but with the pink hue and golden brown of a slight mix of another ethnicity possibly, or just the tone of someone that gets a lot of sun, or a tanning bed, a flash of memory of this new body of yours wearing a tiny bikini lounging at a beach, a wetsuit nearby, a surfboard, a baby blue Subaru SUV with another board on top, and a little green electric bike folded away in the back. “Oh that was weird.” You rub your temples. “God, I’m so skinny. I’m built kinda boyish I think. Your legs are long, lean, deceptively muscular, just like…. “Oh fuck. That bitch used my money to buy herself clothes. Now I’m a flat chested boyish twig, and I don’t even have her fat cock.”

That cock. Another flash of memory, taking it in your mouth, sucking it, getting fucked, “Oh, I miss that cock. Oh, not for herself, for a friend, Destiny, am I Destiny?” You focus on the memory, you look up, cock in your mouth, no, it isn’t her, no, it’s a guy, Martin maybe. You shake your head and the vision fades. “I shouldn’t be naked.”

You quickly grab for anything. You spot denim. “Jeans, perfect.” You yank out a pair, nope, it’s a skirt, oh, and it’s cute, size small, it has a button fly, it feels familiar. You step into it, so short, button it tight, it sits low on your hips. “Oh that is sexy.” You put your hands on your hips. “Damn, my waist is so tiny. A shirt. Should I grab a bra.” Your tits are basically nonexistent, but damned if you don’t just have the sexiest perky nipples. “Ya. Fuck I forgot panties.”

Out in the shop a woman’s voice calls out, “Excuse me. Hello. Is anyone working?”

“Fuck.” Why didn’t she lock the store up. You grab the first thing you see, a little knitted tank top that as you step out of the storeroom the first mirror you see shows you that it is a bit see through, but with your tiny titties, it makes you look more like a fashion model than an exhibitionist. As you head toward the voice, you toss a pair of sandals off the shelf and step into them. Another mirror. “Ooh, I’m a sexy hippie.” You giggle. “Oh fuck I just giggled.” Huge welcoming grin plastered on your face you pass the final obstacle to find the owner of the voice. “Hi, sorry, they left me all alone. Can I help you?”