To the Catwalk

You take a breath and smile at the colourful Frenchman.

“It has always been my dream to walk a catwalk!”

Which of course isn't true for young Alexander, but it feels right to say. Like it would have been true if you remembered Lexi’s childhood dreams.

And also – you look closely at the colourful figure in front of you – you can't deny you're fascinated by this person who has picked his own place in between classical gender roles and stands up for it. Having been searching your own soul and body high and low about your own gender identity the last days. Is that an option? Keep the body of a woman but remain a man inside and insist the world to acknowledge it?

You shake your head. You understand the appeal to normal people – your change of gender opened you a whole new world and perspective that other people will never experience to this extend. You don't envy them, and finally understand why someone would want to at least imitate that and live another life than the one biology thrust upon them. Even though… you feel yourself blush – you cannot for the life of you currently understand why anyone born into a woman's body would want to be a man. You don't judge him but don't understand him, either. Your new life in this new body and mind sand soul is enormously satisfying, deep, meaningful. Even with the option always in the back of your mind of turning back to a man, you find that option less and less – relevant for this woman that you are. You don't have to understand him, you know. It's who he is, he doesn't have to justify himself and you might have problems explaining your inner most feelings this week to anyone yourself. Being a woman is so much richer, more fulfilling… And then frown about yourself. Clearly this train of thought does NOT mean that you were actually a woman all along, right? You haven't given up on that option of becoming a man, have you? You still want that cock back? Insignificant as it was.... It's what you're supposed to be you can’t just… pick and choose this life just because you enjoy it? Can you. Do you want to? Were you a woman all along and just didn't dare to...

The Frenchman pulls you out of your musings.

“So nice to hear that, Lexi. You clearly have the body for the job and the grasp of the camera. I see you do have the attitude.

He puts an hand under your chin and looks into your eyes.

“Of course cat-walking in front of a life audience hundreds of people is something else nobody can prepare you for. But I'm willing to take the risk. If you prove to me that you have the determination!”

He winks at you.

The black guy sighs.

“A shame, you'd have made an excellent snow-bunny.”

Your agent laughs and slaps his shoulder.

“Don’t worry I have plenty of small white girls for you instead.”

“But none like her you, you said!”

“I’ll give you two for the price of one to make up.”

The black man rises an eyebrow.

“Now you're speaking my language.”

The laugh together and shift attention to you and the Frenchman. Apparently they intend to stay and watch – your new potential employer doesn't seem to mind, and you never miss out on an opportunity to show yourself off.

He pulls your head towards him and kisses you. Hungry, exploring. Firmly. No doubt it’s very male kiss, even though the lips are softer and the tongue a little more – attentive than you're used to from other men of the last days - or than you could have provided when you were one - but the urge, the drive, the certainty with which he takes what he considers his is ever so masculine. You used to be so very proud of your cock as a definition of your masculinity, but he doesn’t need one to be more of a man than your ever were…. You sigh into his kiss an let him take you fully. His chest presses against yours – you feel small bumps there, he does have breasts, A-Cups, not more. nothing to wear a bra about, but it doesn't seem he’s taken any surgical steps to adapt his body to his self image. He’s confident enough about himself. Also, he works and lives in the fashion business, where people considered weird and eccentric elsewhere are likely to be taken for granted a lot more.

He breaks the kiss with you and looks you in the eyes.

"Alright little one, show me how much you want to become a supermodel!”

He chuckles and you go down on your knees, open his pants and pull them down. As expected what you find is distinctly female, biologically – but it somehow does have a male attitude. His pussy has a wild, untrimmed bush around it, which in this day and age you have indeed only ever seen men cultivate. You yourself took it as a first step to neatly trim your bush, if not fully shave it, and would never even think about letting it grow this wild now that you have settled into your female body. But you admit you DO like it on men, body hair in general, it give them an animalistic quality you very much fancy. You gulp – for the umpteenth time musing about how fast you developed a refined taste in men.

And then you smile. You like this man in front of you and how, despite his lack of male physique he clearly exudes masculinity.

“What's up – never licked a man’s pussy before?”

He smirks down on you and the spectators - by now not your agent and the black guy but the photographer and the two models as well laugh amused.

You giggle.

“I have not, but I'm curious to learn. Thank you for the opportunity, Sir.”

He smiles and pats your head.

“You're welcome, Lexi but now get to it, you can't let a man wait like this!”

“Of course, Sir.”

You bend your head forward, brush away the wild bush to kiss the man’s clitoris. You have no trouble finding it, it's swollen and huge, one of the biggest clits you ever saw. Makes you almost wonder if this tiny penis is what first gave him the idea to identify as a man in the first place. You kiss and lick it gently, then take it in your mouth to suck it. You can almost treat this as a blow job if you close your eyes, and you're quite sure so does he. You try your absolute best to treat it as much as a cock as you can, suck on it more than everything else and only lick and kiss as a diversion like you’d do it for a real cock.

But you also enter two fingers into the man’s cunt, it's wet warm and inviting. His arousal very much works like that of a woman in this respect, his pussy welcomes your fingers warmly and massages them firmly. You wonder if he ever has it fucked – you hope he does, a pussy is a terrible thing to waste no matter if its owner is a woman or a man. You treat it with the respect it deserves and get rewarded with a steady stream of the man's pussy juices, as you keep sucking his clit cock. He very much enjoys the attention and seems to appreciate you treating him like a man and sucking his clit like b blowjob a lot. He moans and groans in his mezzo-soprano voice, ruffles your hair and eventfully cums moaning, his cunt juices flowing down your hand, his clit throbbing in your mouth under the last flicks of your tongue.

He looks down at you smiling.

“That was impressive, little Lexi. I rarely feel treated like the man I am by ladies who service me for the first time like this. Do you have experience with people with fluid gender images?”

You almost ****. There's probably no one on the planet right now whose own gender image is more fluid than yours. Even though the male voice inside you gets ever more quiet the more you do things like this.

“You… could say so, Sir…”

“Nice. If I didn’t hire you for your body and talent as a model, I would definitely hire you for your sexual skills.”

You blush and look at your agent.

“I get that a lot…”

Everyone laughs.

“So that means I'm, hired?”

“It does indeed. I will pick you p at your place tomorrow morning take you to Paris and you’ll have your first catwalk appearance in the evening.”

You’re lost for words about this speed, but are saved by the other two model jumping on you, hugging and kissing You have been afraid they’d be jealous but they couldn't be more genuinely happy for you.

“We’ll miss you SO much, Lexi!”

The little ginger has tear on her eyes.

“But once you’re a famous supermodel, we can tell anyone we ere the first who worked with you and fucked you in front of a camera!”

The black girl’s hug almost cruses you.

“And those pictures I took of it will be worth a fortune!”

The photographer grins and you grin back. No problem with that. If you do get famous he may have his share. It case things don't reset on Sunday. The thought almost scares you now. Turning back into a man shouldn't do that, shouldn't it?