My Pleasures Were Undignified

But now, I couldn't help but wonder. What if he was wrong? What if they were onto something? And then, a bit further: "I not only recognised my natural body for the mere aura and effulgence of certain of the powers that made up my spirit, but managed to compound a drug by which these powers should be dethroned from their supremacy, and a second form and countenance substituted, none the less natural to me..."

If the 'Quantum Consciousness' types were right, then a drug that mucked with the self-image, that allowed buried aspects of the personality to become dominant in the right way...

On the other hand, I didn't want to be a murderous sociopath. I wanted to be... I wanted to be Sherry. My eyes alighted on another passage I'd read and reread before. The one that had made me take the bottles to Sal: "Had I approached my discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the experiment while under the empire of generous or pious aspirations, all must have been otherwise... The drug had no discriminating action; it was neither diabolical nor divine; it but shook the doors of the prison-house of my disposition; and like the captives of Philippi, that which stood within ran forth..."

Yes, I was going to try it.

"...endowed besides with excellent parts..."

Preparations took two and a half weeks. The supplies came quickly enough but several days were wasted as I learned how to do organic chemistry by trial and error - mostly error. Sal's directions included warnings and tests at the critical steps but I hadn't done anything like this since high school. I closed the store early every night, rushing home to play mad scientist into the wee hours.

Eventually, though, one Tuesday night I had proper amounts of the reddish potion and the salt, and they had the right density and such. Even then I hesitated; but I'd come this far.

I went upstairs with the components and dressed myself, taking my time, making everything perfect. First a bath, and this time I shaved everything, even shaping my pubic hair. Pink toenails and fingernails; I never did that on a weeknight, it was too much trouble to clean them, but tonight... The lacy stockings felt wonderful on my smooth legs. High heels, my very favorite dress, flowing hair. Complete makeup - my lashes were that long! Jewelry too - a lovely broach, rings. The sole compromise was the clip-on nature of my earrings. Shaved skin I could cover, pierced ears I could not. But when I was done I was just scrumptious.

I was hard and throbbing as I admired myself in the mirror, but I tried to imagine it as an empty ache, lower down... a tiny sharp clit, soft lips... breasts with hard, sensitive nipples...

I poured the crystals into the potion. It bubbled furiously for several moments, then settled down, turning purple. Seconds passed and that gave way to a light green. On the edge of orgasm, I downed the mixture in one swift chug, like a sorority girl doing shots at a party.

It tasted horrible but that barely had time to register before I went into agonizing spasms. Every bone in my body felt like it was being twisted and a wave of weakness and nausea washed over me. But, even stronger than the physical symptoms, there was a sense of profound horror, of both oblivion and awakening.

It passed as quickly as it had come, and I felt myself swiftly recovering. But I still was pained and uncomfortable; my chest was being crushed. I yanked down the top of my dress and tore off my brassiere and the forms that had been squeezing my breasts. The wig fell to the floor, freeing the hair that now spilled to the small of my back. Only then did I finally regard myself once more in the mirror.

Looked at objectively, the girl in the mirror should have been laughable. The dress and stockings and even the shoes were too big for her. The top of the baggy dress was bunched under her breasts and a bra dangled from her hand.

No one could have looked at her objectively, however. Dainty feet with mischievous toes. Long shapely legs surmounted by the curviest, sexiest hips. A tiny wasp waist, flat tummy... firm, high, ample, absolutely symmetrical breasts with perky nipples that cried out to be touched, licked, suckled. Sleek, smooth, feminine arms tipped with hands of obvious, supple dexterity. Long, flowing, light-brown hair that framed a fine-boned, ideally-proportioned face, with wide but sultry eyes; full, luscious lips slightly parted as she stood panting, an enticing hint of the white teeth and nimble tongue visible within.

And the way she moved... animal, wanton, a blatant invitation. All she had done so far was shift her weight, lower her arms, cock her head slightly. It was still more erotic than any porn I'd ever watched.

There was nothing about her that was remotely masculine. She was fantastic. A beauty that demanded ravishing. She was a sexpot.

I laughed out loud in recognition. Here was the Sherry that Carl had always imagined, the Sherry he'd so crudely imitated all these years. His little dress-up games had produced an image no more true than a scarecrow was to a real person. It didn't feel like a discovery so much as a recollection; everything was new but somehow familiar, like deja vu.

My age was... indeterminate. I could have been a teenager, but I was no older than the late twenties. That was at least twenty years younger than Carl, and I felt every second of that. My skin was smooth and unlined, my muscles toned, my joints limber. I was full of the kind of vitality you only notice after it goes away with age.

And again, the mental and emotional changes were greater still. I was hornier than I'd ever been, on fire body and soul. The most wicked and depraved notions filled my mind; images and sounds and smells welled up constantly in my imagination. And shame and guilt - conscience itself - had vanished. That little voice of judgement everyone hears inside had been completely silenced. I felt pure, unalloyed. Distilled to an essence like a fine sherry.

I wasted no time tearing off the silly clothes. Even the corset was too big for me now! In a twinkling I was naked, devouring my new form with my eyes and hands. The novel erotic sensitivity of my nipples dragged a moan from my throat as my fingertips brushed and tweaked them. Then I was turning my back to the mirror, leaning forward, spreading my legs and craning my neck to see. My ass was incredible, round and padded yet still defined, with the cutest little rosebud hole. Seemingly of their own will, one hand remained to glide over my breasts as the other slid down my belly to my exposed pussy.

My pussy... it was beautiful, drawing hand and eyes with equal power. Sweet dewy pink folds that my fingers greedily explored. My thumb brushed my clit, diamond-hard amid all that moist softness, and I came instantly, dropping to my knees, my fingers curving into my vagina, screaming out my joy for what must have been minutes. A female orgasm is an amazing thing. Everything gets involved, even the uterus contracts.

Eventually I let the pleasure subside and stood up, a bit shakily. I struck a few poses in the mirror, enjoying my delectable form. But that was a momentary amusement. With a confidence, an arrogance almost unimaginable to most people (except perhaps sociopaths) I knew that I was the most gorgeous creature in the world. I enjoyed it but had no need to confirm it to myself. Not a trace of self-doubt remained.

So I marched determinedly over to the wardrobe and prized the vibrator from its hiding place. Then I jumped onto the bed with a giggle and squirmed myself into a comfortable position on my back.

My senses appeared to be much sharper now; I didn't just hear the buzz of the toy as I switched it on, I didn't just feel it in my hand. When I'd been a little boy (a memory that seemed completely alien to me now), at the end of every haircut the barber would take an electric razor to the back of my neck. It never failed to raise my hackles, my whole spine stiffened and my skin tingled where the shaver was about to land.

Now my entire body had a similar sensation... but with a critical difference. It was lustful anticipation, it was feverish tension. Every bit of my skin could sense it, was tingling with how it shivered in my hand. I brought it down to my cunt, my juices almost spilling from between the lips. I stroked it back and forth along the slit, each square inch of my vulva more sensitive than the whole of my unlamented cock had ever been.

I found my entrance and gradually pushed it in. The buzz wasn't just on my skin, it was inside me now, my whole body was trembling. The walls of my pussy were stretching, melting, dissolving. I clamped down with muscles I'd never possessed before, trying to pull it further within. It was wonderful, it was ecstasy. (There was a sensation that I didn't register as pain then, but I later realized was me pushing through my own hymen.) I began to move the toy out and in, over and over, more and more powerfully. My other hand started rubbing my clit and I was screaming, my back arching, my breasts jiggling on my chest.

Over the next hour or so I brought myself to orgasm repeatedly. But I knew I needed more, much more. I rolled off the bed and began to search through the clothes for something that would fit well enough.

"The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise..."

I bolted from the house before the taxi I'd called had finished parking in the driveway. I was impatient to get going, but what if I were pulled over? Sherry had no license, no ID of any kind.

I went straight to the front passenger seat and hopped in with a flounce. I was wearing the best-fitting dress I could find (cinched closely at the waist) and a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes similarly pulled tight... and nothing else. I didn't need lacy underwear or jewelry to feel like a woman now! The only purse I had didn't go with the dress but I needed to carry some money.

The driver was stunned. According to Tawesson, people had reacted to Cuilidh with a unique, visceral disgust, sensing the purity of his evil. I've since witnessed Sherry evoking an equally strong reaction, too, but of a different nature. She is literally an incarnation of Lust, and all are fascinated and attracted to her often despite themselves.

I enjoyed his stupor for a moment. He was a middle-aged, vaguely Eastern European man. Not particularly good-looking, rather unkempt. He needed a shower. None of that mattered, I was delighted with his stubble, his paunch, his odor. I licked my lips and gave him a slow smile. "Aren't you supposed to ask me 'Where to'?" I asked with wide eyes.

He jerked, and stammered. "Wh... wh... where..." I knew I was going to have such fun with him. I couldn't wait anymore to get started.

"Tell you what. You just head downtown... while I go to town." He pulled out into the street and started heading toward the main road.

He kept stealing glances at me, mostly at my breasts with their rampant nipples. I loved the attention and the way he was squirming in his seat. I leaned in close and reached for his crotch, knowing exactly what was making him uncomfortable. I grasped his stiff cock through his pants and he groaned.

"Here, let me help," I said smirkingly as I started to undo his belt. He didn't fight at all, he just kept driving. Driving slowly, I noticed. Soon I had his pants undone, and he hunched his ass into the air, letting me slide them down. He had a raging hard-on. I squealed like a little girl who'd just opened her favoritest present, it felt incredible in my hands. Without the slightest hesitation I leaned down and began sucking happily.

"Bozhe Moi!" he exclaimed, panting and groaning. For my part I was transported; cocksucking was an utter sensual delight. I slowed down as it twitched a little in my mouth; I couldn't have him coming too quickly, I was having too much fun. With a skill that I still don't know the source of, I held him straining at the brink of orgasm for more than ten minutes.

Finally even I couldn't stop him anymore. He exploded, delicious cum surging into my mouth for many seconds. I'd been having my own low-grade orgasm for a while and it peaked with his. My hips shivered and bucked, and my muffled moans blended in with the sounds of horns honking behind the taxi.

I sat up, wiping my mouth and sighing with temporary release. I looked around and realized we were on the edge of downtown. The driver had started moving again, passing under the light that had long since turned green. Still breathing heavily, he was babbling some kind of thank-you but I interrupted him with, "You can just let me off here."

He pulled to the side of the street and I hopped out, blowing him a kiss. I laughed as he hurriedly tried to yank up his pants, and strolled off into the city to seek my fortune.

"...an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul."

As I walked down the street, everything seemed alive and excited and there just for me and my own amusement. I drew stares from men and women alike and relished the attention. There were frequent whistles and catcalls that I gaily acknowledged as my due. A few times I literally stopped traffic. For my part, I surveyed everyone with a sexually-charged appraisal, continually visualizing myself engaging in manifold perversions with him, or him over there, or her, or them...

It wasn't long before I came across a simple, unassuming sports bar tucked in a side street. Clearly a gathering place for students, and young and athletic was just what I had in mind.

In the movies, there's a cliche: A beautiful woman walks into a bar, and there's a sudden lull in the conversation. I doubt that happens much in real life, but it did then. As I stepped in the door and looked around, the noise level faded swiftly. I was the focus of dozens of stares.

I strutted to the bar and asked the bartender for a girlish cocktail. I probably should have been carded but I had such a presence I doubt it even occurred to him. Conversation had resumed by then and I glanced about, evaluating the patrons like a butcher examines a bull to be slaughtered. It was that callous; I had needs and they would be satisfied, regardless of anyone else's feelings in the matter.

I was not surprised that a strapping young man was already zeroing in on me. "Let me get that for you," he declared, paying the bartender. I looked him over hungrily; tall, well-muscled, short dark hair. Yummy.

"My hero," I purred, leaning close. "I'm Sherry. Who do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mike. Mike Pryzowski," he said. He was putting up a brave front but I could tell he was trying to figure out if I could possibly be for real. "I'm sure I haven't seen you here before," he essayed.

"I'm new in town," I smiled. "So, what does a girl do around here for fun?"

"Well, come with me and find out." He led me over to where he and his friends were having a few beers and playing pool. He was obviously the alpha male of this little pack of five, but I was attracted to all of them in their own ways. Even the shy chubby one. Their accuracy dropped precipitously when I joined the game.

Their eyes were all over me - every eye in the bar, really - and I willingly gave them plenty to see. I bent low over the table as I made shots; my tits were almost spilling out of my dress as it was, and the skirt rode up high in the back. The way I stroked my pool cue was clearly distracting them terribly. Mike's hands were almost trembling as I had him hold the bridge for me on a difficult shot. As I leaned down, one leg idly rubbing against his, I looked back over my shoulder and caught him regarding my rear with awe. He sheepishly averted his eyes but my chuckle made him look back.

I favored him with a slow wink and a knowing smile as I cocked my hips, inviting a more thorough appreciation. I could feel his eager gaze sweeping over my body as I turned back and took my shot. As I came up to watch the balls rattle about I leaned back into Mike, enjoying his smell, the feel of his chest against my back. His fingers brushed my ass, testing the waters, and I smiled and pushed it back into his hand.

I wasn't particularly good at pool but that wasn't the game I was playing. Mike and his friends were the game, and I was winning. It was wonderful being the center of all that male attention. They were falling over themselves to be helpful and I could not pay for anything.

Mike and I sat the next round out, me perched on his lap, driving him half-insane. His arm supported me around my waist and that was driving me crazy. Flirting and seducing was almost as much fun as screwing. Almost, but I was no longer interested in half measures. I nodded at the table and nuzzled his ear, saying, "Those aren't exactly the balls I want to be racking, you know."

"Let's head to my place," he proposed, almost drooling. He ran his nails along my bare leg and I shivered.

"No. I can't wait," I declared, my voice husky. I hopped off his lap and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, let's go."

He followed me like a pet on a leash into the men's room. He was about as dazed as any guy would be if he'd stumbled into the world of the Penthouse letters column. But once we were in a stall with the door closed he wasted no time pinning me against the back wall and mauling me with hands and mouth.

I moaned with voracious passion, helping him hike up my dress. He got a hand on my pussy and I nearly passed out, it felt so good. I pumped my hips and he finger-fucked me while he fumbled with his belt. Finally I broke free and jerked the dress over my head, throwing it to the ground, heedless of the messy floor. I knelt and tugged at his belt. In moments I had his pants down. Since it was right there, I took the chance to lick and stroke his generous cock for a moment.

He groaned, and his hips bucked a little, but I wanted something new. I jumped up and locked my lips with his. He roughly picked me up and slammed me into the wall again. A few seconds of confused coordination and I was slipping onto his dick. It was bliss: complete, hedonistic, animalistic satisfaction.

My legs were wrapped around his waist as he pumped into me. It sent shooting bolts of pleasure everywhere each time his dick pistoned up into my channel. He was warm on my front, the tile was cold on my back. My hands roamed over his meaty shoulders, his back, his butt. His mouth mashed with mine, and traced wet kisses over my neck and shoulders. I let out repeated, uninhibited screams and moans.

It was practically a continuous orgasm for me, and even Mike, who struck me as the silent type, let out an occasional throaty groan. Soon enough he gave voice to something like a roar and came violently, his cum joining my own juices, making a delightfully slippery mess and sending me to new heights of pleasure.

I came down slowly. Mike made a few more powerful thrusts and then seemed to deflate. That was the first time I encountered that difference between males and females. I felt alive, energized, ready for more - but he was obviously exhausted. He set me down and worked to catch his breath. I was panting, too, but with excitement.

I bent over to pick up my dress. Mike was pulling up his pants as I, still naked, opened up the stall to find my discarded purse. I must have been a sight: bare, my boobs jiggling on my heaving chest, jism leaking down my leg. It sure pole-axed the guy coming into the bathroom.

It was the plump one, Rich or Rick or something. He stood there gaping at us... or more accurately, at me. Mike's annoyed glare caused him to mumble something like, "I really have to go..."

"So go," Mike spat, and turned back to me. Chubby made his way to a urinal and shortly I heard his piss splashing away. It was distracting; the sound kept reminding me there was an exposed dick nearby.