The Sexual Transformation of Eugene

My name is Jean. It was "Eugene" until I decided I wanted to be a female.

I am 25 years old, and the woman inside my male body has struggled for years to come out. It started in grade school. On dress-up day, I wanted to wear girl's clothes...I wanted to be a fairy princess. My mother made me a costume, a long satiny dress with a tiara and magic wand. She didn't seem to have an issue with dressing me like a girl. I sensed my father did. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he avoided me. I can understand that.

Growing up, I didn't have (or want) male friends. I spent most of my play time with the little girls next door. My mother would set up tea parties on summer afternoons, and the girls would come over to play with us. Mother poured our tea from the little teapot.

I spent many summer afternoons playing "Barbies" with the girls I remember stealing their Barbie dolls and bringing them home. I loved their smooth, sleek plastic bodies, especially the large breasts. I used to wear my mother's bra and stuff the satin cups with water-filled balloons, stroking the soft pliable mounds as I stroked Barbie's tits. I would stick marbles in the cups and roll them around, as if I were tweaking my nipples.

In high school, I was drawn to girls, not because I wanted to get laid (well, not in the usual sense), but because I felt more comfortable in their presence. I wanted so badly to be one of them. The girls enjoyed having me around, maybe because they felt safe with me. They never flirted with me, and they seemed to understand that I was "one of them." We'd go to movies together, hang out at the food court, and talk about everything girls find important in their self-serving lives.

They shared their fantasies with me, told me about their conquests, discussed make-up and clothes, and gossiped about who was getting fucked. They often asked me for advice about their love lives. I loved hearing their stories and was more than happy to comply.

My sexual preference was never an issue with my peers. Neither the studs on campus nor the girls I hung out with ever thought I was gay. I was 5'10", dark haired, and had a muscular body. I didn't fit the stereotype. I was a threat to no one.

The guys ignored me for whatever reason, but the girls loved having me around, maybe as a token, or possibly because I was a loyal friend. No one knew that I was struggling inside with conflict. I didn't share my fantasies with anyone.

Although I was pretty much a loner, I was pretty happy with my life. But, the fact remained I wanted desperately to be a woman...I wanted a pussy and big tits.

My physical attributes would not enable an easy transition into a female form. I don't have full lips, a small nose, or a hairless body. If that were not difficult enough, I was burdened with a huge dick. Had I been effeminate, of slight build, slim and fair, it would have been easier to pull off.

I hated my body, the dark hair, the huge penis, the muscular arms. I shaved my chest, underarms, legs and genitals, preferring the smooth skin. I wore women's silky underwear, anything to negate my masculinity.

After I graduated high school, I went on to college and studied Art. I lived at home with my mother (my father left her when I was 13), rarely went out, and concentrated on my studies. Mother never questioned me about my solitary life, and I never offered any information. I didn't talk to her about anything significant...she just wasn't interested. She preferred her dull, boring life without any problems.

So, I clammed up and became reclusive. I spent the next four years of my life in this environment, until I graduated with a degree in Graphic Art. I moved out of my mother's house and into my own apartment. I immediately got a job with a movie company in Los Angeles, throwing myself into my work and making a good living.

I spent most of my nights surfing the internet, looking at porn, reading erotic stories, specifically related to transsexuals or she-males. These "women" were so feminine and beautiful, but they all had huge, ugly cocks. I dreamed about being one of them...but without the penis.

I used my artistic talents in creating cartoons about beautiful curvy women with tiny shriveled cocks. I envied the women I created, their beautiful big tits, curvy asses, wide-open pussies, inviting me to join them, with their come-on looks and red lips wrapped around an unbelievably large penis. I never wanted their lips around my cock...I wanted their dildos in my own pussy. I lived my fantasies vicariously through my work.

I had tried straight and gay sex on several occasions, mainly for the sexual relief. The attempts ended in failure and I felt worse afterwards. I was caught in the middle. Unless you have been in my position, you can't imagine the unhappiness, the fear, the self-loathing, the loneliness and the despair of being trapped in a body you don't want or like.

I began to study literature on sex change operations, the process one had to go through in preparation for surgery. It sounded painful, both physically and emotionally. However, I was at the point where I knew I had to do something. I could not continue in my present state of conflict. It was becoming too painful.

And...I was becoming lonelier. I needed sex – real sex, not self-administered, not dildoes up my ass. And I wanted a relationship,. I just wasn't sure what kind. I had saved a substantial amount of money in the past several years, and I was ready to take that first step. I had my list of doctors ready. I just needed the courage to call them.

Then, one Sunday afternoon, while continuing my research at the library, I met a young woman, who would alter my life profoundly.

Chapter 2

Sitting in a corner of the library, I was absorbed in a pile of textbooks on gender reassignment, fascinated by the story of Christine Jorgensen, the ex GI who had the operation in 1953. The transformation into a beautiful blonde woman was amazing. Her story echoed my own. It gave me hope.

Thinking about leaving the library, I looked up and noticed a young woman across from me taking notes from a book. I was very taken by her, something that normally didn't happen. She was quite stunning. Her hair was a deep red and hung loosely around her face, tousled as if she had just got out of bed. She had perfect features; a straight, small nose, full luscious lips, beautiful large almond shaped eyes, the color of which I could not determine from the distance. Her complexion was milky and pale. She was slim and perfectly proportioned, had small pert breasts that showed just a hint of cleavage in her blouse. I wanted her body...I mean I literally wanted to have her body.. as my own. I was envious.

She must have felt my gaze, as she looked up and smiled...yes, perfect white teeth. I melted. What was going on here? She turned her eyes back down to her paper, but I could not take mine off her. I found the woman I wanted to become. She looked up again, and repeated her smile. I smiled back, and began stacking my books.

I tried to concentrate, but I was having difficulty keeping myself focused. I wanted to look at her again. I raised my head and saw that this gorgeous little creature was heading towards me. I panicked for a moment, wondering why I was reacting this way. I closed the book I had been reading so she wouldn't see the pictures I was studying.

She spoke...a soft, sweet voice, "Hi. I've seen you here often. My name is Melanie."

"Hi," I managed to say. "I haven't seen you here. Do you come here often?" Stupid thing to say. Of course she does, if she's seen me here. "I'm Gene," I said as I stood to offer my hand.

"Hi Gene," she giggled. "Sorry, every time I hear someone say that, I think hygiene and it makes me laugh." I smiled at the corny line.

I laughed with her self-consciously. "What are you studying?" Melanie asked me. "There sure are lots of books." She began to pick them up and look at the titles. I felt myself get queasy inside. "Oh," she said, "you are studying psychology too? I'm doing a research paper on homosexuality. I find it fascinating."

"I'm doing research for my Thesis," I lied.

"What, on people who want to be the other sex?" she questioned. "That must be horrible. Maybe we could study together and help each other out," she offered.

"That would be nice," I found myself saying. "I would like the company."

And so, that started a long and complicated relationship that would be the best and worst experience of my life.

Chapter 3

Melanie and I met at the library once a week in the beginning. I found myself looking forward to Sunday afternoons with more enthusiasm than I ever had felt for anything. She was easy to talk to, charming, witty, and very, very smart. I loved listening to her theories on homosexuality, and she enjoyed my thoughts on the "perverted sexuality" of cross-dressers and transvestites.

We quickly became good friends. Once a week at the library turned into twice a week. We began calling each other in between meetings, talking about her classes, my "paper". We always included a trip to a coffee shop at the end of each study session, and on occasion, we went out to grab a bite. I was happy having a friend. My loneliness was fading.

Our friendship was easy and becoming deep. We never talked much about personal issues, like family, friends, or "feelings." There were no underlying sexual innuendoes between us, and we both were comfortable with that, or at least I was.

Then one Sunday afternoon, Melanie invited me over to her apartment. Up to now, we had never been at each other's homes. She said she wanted to cook me a home-made meal. I don't know if she thought I wasn't eating properly, but the thought of having Melanie cook for me was a pleasant one.

I agreed to meet her at her place at 7 PM. The invitation did not alarm me...I considered it a natural progression of our friendship. On my drive over, I stopped at a bakery and bought a loaf of freshly baked French bread, then stopped at a liquor store and picked up a couple bottles of wine, one red and one white, not knowing what she was cooking. I felt very happy meeting Melanie at her home and sharing more time together. She had become my best friend.

I arrived promptly at 7 and rang the doorbell. Melanie greeted me with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips, and practically gushed at the sight of the bread and wine. She said it was perfect. She told me dinner would be ready soon...she was making pasta (of course...who doesn't like pasta?) We sat on her couch and talked about the day and how our research was going.

I was very relaxed and comfortable being with Melanie. It was the end to a perfect day. Then Melanie said something that changed the atmosphere and rocked my world.

"Gene, we have been seeing each other for months now, and we've become very close. But, you've never made a move towards me or shown me any affection other than that of friendship. I have to ask you something."

Damn. There it was. I was wondering when she would question our relationship.

"Do you have feelings for me?" she asked timidly.

"Melanie, you know how much I care for you. I love you. You are my dear friend," I answered, truthfully.

"Yes, I know. I love you too. But, you don't seem to be attracted to me, sexually. I have been waiting for you to take the next step, but you haven't. Is there something wrong with me?" she asked innocently.

Oh God, I thought. Here it comes. I had been perfectly happy with our relationship and did not want things to change. I thought she accepted our relationship as it was. But then, she's a woman...things always change.

"Oh God, no, there is nothing wrong with you. You're perfect. What a silly question," I answered, feeling sweat form on my brow. God, where would she take this, I thought.

Melanie got up and poured us each a glass of wine, and returned to the couch, sitting closer to me. "Gene, are you gay?" she blurted out. My heart started racing. I struggled for an answer, any answer – right, wrong or indifferent. She took my silence as affirmation, then she continued nervously.

"Of course, there's nothing wrong with being gay. You know I am not homophobic or anything, and I think you are the most wonderful person I have met..."

I cut her off. "Melanie. I am NOT gay." I declared looking her straight in the eyes. I was very amused by her discomfort.

"Then....what is? What's going on?" she asked.

"I don't know. I think you are beautiful, intelligent, and yes, sexy. But I don't want to spoil our friendship by making it sexual. I like things the way they are."

"Our friendship?" she mocked. "Our friendship means more to me than studying, having a coffee now and then, or a dinner once in a while. We have been seeing each other for a long time, and I want more. Quite frankly I am getting impatient. Please tell me how you feel."

I was at a loss for words. I didn't enjoy being questioned like this. . It wasn't like her. What was I supposed to say? : Well, you see, Melanie, it's like this. I am a man who wants to be a woman, involved with a woman who wants me to be a man?" Somehow, I didn't think she would understand.

I threw myself back on the couch in resignation. Melanie sensed this and backed off. She said she was going to check on dinner. She came back with a full glass of wine for each of us. She set the glasses down on the table and sat next to me on the couch. Her beautiful brown-amber eyes were searching mine.

I felt such love for her at this moment, but I didn't know how to handle my emotions. Picking up on this, she leaned into me and put her hand on my face, turning it towards her. She then kissed me, slowly, lovingly and sensually. I felt my cock twitch. What the hell was going on?

She needed reassurance that she was desirable, and I found myself not resisting, as I returned her kiss, harshly and passionately, drawing her into me and hugging her tightly. She began stroking the side of my face, her breath coming in short gasps, looking into my eyes. I continued holding her tightly, wanting to surround her body with mine.

"I love you," she whispered. "I have waited so long for you to hold me and kiss me." She lay her head on my chest, and I stroked her hair, my beautiful Melanie. I was so confused at the feelings I had...I was reacting to her emotionally and physically like a man, but I felt the bond of two women. I didn't know where to go from there. If only I could be Melanie and have someone love me like this.

She began rubbing my chest, her hand reaching under my shirt and lightly touching my nipples, which were so fucking hard at this point. My cock had hardened to its full erection, and she began to rub it through my pants. I was in heaven as she stroked me and kissed my neck and moaned her hot little breaths against my neck. What the fuck was I doing?

At this point, my cock overtook my brain, and I found myself wanting her...all of her. My manhood reacted on its own while my mind was in a state of confusion. In a hectic minute, our clothes were on the floor (thank God I hadn't worn my silk undies), and we were naked together on the couch, my stupid cock bobbing around searching for its prey. Her body was just as beautiful as I could have imagined, and I no longer felt self-conscious. She continued stroking me, biting and licking my nipples.

I buried my face in her breasts, licking and nibbling at her nipples, while my hand stroked her soft belly and moved towards the soft patch of red hair. Melanie was moaning and pushing her hips up to my hand. I found her wetness and gently rubbed her clit as I stuck a finger in her hot, juicy pussy. She began fucking my finger with her hips, slowly at first then building to a frantic pace.

I closed my eyes and I fantasized that I had large breasts pressed against hers and we were in the throes of a lesbian act, and I felt myself on the verge of explosion. She sensed my tension.

"Fuck me, Gene, please, oh God I want you in me so bad!" she begged, as she lay back on the couch with her knees up and legs spread. Her voice interrupted my fantasy, and I felt my cock deflate at her words. I tried to hide this as I moved down on the couch and began to nibble at her thighs, slowly moving towards her sweet pussy. I tried to distract her as I knew I wouldn't be able to get it up for her.

I stared at the beautiful pussy in front of me, so wet with excitement. I began to lick her glistening slit, slowly separating the lips to find the little pink bud, licking and biting it gently.

"God, yes," she moaned. "Fuck me with your tongue!" A reprieve... I didn't even think about what I was doing, more concerned that she would notice my limp dick. . I shoved my face into her beautiful pussy, tonguing her hard and fast, tasting her sweetness. I nibbled at her clit, licked the length of her slit then shoved my tongue back in for more.

Melanie began squirming and breathing heavily. As she thrust her hips up to meet my mouth, she began to cum, a huge wave of contractions, followed by several small after-waves, my chin all wet from her juices. I was so excited, and I wanted so badly for her to reciprocate. I never wanted my own vagina as much as I did at this moment.

Melanie lay limply on the couch, flushed, as beads of sweat glistened on her breasts. I sat up and looked at her, so beautiful at this moment, wiping the juices from my chin, and covering her erect nipples with it, slowly massaging them..

"So, do you doubt your sexual appeal now?" I asked smiling.

"No, I mean, you were wonderful, it was awesome, Gene. Now it's your turn. I want to please you."

"No, not now," I said simply. I was totally confused and felt discomfort at the thought of her sucking my cock. I was so afraid that I wouldn't respond, and wasn't sure if I even wanted to. I loved eating her pussy and nibbling her breasts, but that was the female part of me coming through. I didn't want her lips on my cock. Not now...now ever.

Melanie sat up slowly, and although she seemed confused, (I mean what man wouldn't want a girl to give him a blowjob?) she accepted it in her endearing way.

"Are you sure?" she asked sadly. "I feel selfish. Next time?"

"Okay," I replied, mainly to end the subject. "So, get yourself cleaned up and let's have some dinner."

We ate good pasta...drank more wine, watched a movie, and snuggled together so comfortably. I felt good and content, and it seemed like Melanie did as well.

After the movie, I said I had to leave....had to study. She nodded and said she had to write more on her paper. We hugged each other, and I allowed her to give me another long, hot kiss, before I turned and she shut the door behind me.

As I walked outside, a blast of cold air hit me, as if trying to sober me up. As I walked to my car, I thought about the night. What the hell happened? What was I going to do now? I couldn't imagine our relationship progressing sexually, and I was worried. What would I do the next time Melanie invited me to her apartment?

It wasn't fair that I left her with a glimmer of hope. She was naïve and didn't think anything of the night's events. I started perspiring and felt anxious as I got into my car to drive home. Home: no pressure, no lies, no sex.... I looked forward to it.

I got home in about 15 minutes, glad to be on my familiar ground. I walked into my apartment... my safety zone.. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge, and noticed a light flashing on my answering machine. I pressed play and I heard Melanie's voice:

"Hi Baby," (she never called me that) she said in a sexy voice. Hope you got home okay. I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight. I'm looking forward to seeing you again. Maybe I can fix supper for you again on Friday? Don't forget...it's your turn next!: I've already planned something special. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Mel."