Finding Aimi

Hi everyone, this was a commission piece involving a large, dominant Japanese transsexual woman and a young man looking for someone to fill the void in his life. It involves foot-long cocks, domination and rimming, hope you enjoy! - TSG123 x

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Some say the word 'unlovable' is used too often. In David's case, he reckoned that if the dictionary definition had a picture, he would find his own morose expression staring back at him

The soft figure tapped on his phone, leaning back against the pillow, and anyone peering in through grimy windows would assume it was just a young man relaxing after a long day's work at the warehouse. Unfortunately, he rarely found relaxation ever since he'd moved into this place.

Soon it would be three years.

*Taptaptaptap*

His thumbs were blurs, flitting across the screen as he re-read the unsent message through tired eyes.

Too cheesy.

He deleted it and started again, the microwaved meal beside him going cold as he squirreled away in the darkness of his apartment, a lamp next to him the only source of light, emitting a faint orange glow.

His fingers decelerated as he glanced up at the profile picture of the recipient.

She looked so pretty.

Would she look twice at him? Would his message even get opened? He could already see the message sitting forlornly in her inbox with not a hint of reciprocation, just like all the others.

Looking at his own profile picture and comparing it to hers, one could assume she would probably reject him even if he was the King of England. Where her face was cold and pretty, his was stuck in a shy smile (which had taken far too many photos to get right). Where she possessed long flowing hair, a slim waist and tall legs, he saw his himself as average, round and unassuming beyond his bubble butt. Wavy dark brown hair could be considered handsome, but the facial hair beneath was neither long enough to be manly, nor shaped enough to be stylish, and his face was gentle in shape and demeanour, when it wasn't locked in a female-repellent frown.

He deleted the text he had been working on for the past thirty minutes, before looking up and around the bare walls of his apartment. A bed and a desk were the main furnishings, and luxurious extras extended to white curtains, some shelves with a few carefully placed family photos, and a wardrobe stuffed with run-of-the-mill t-shirts, shapeless jeans and other non-identifying items. He felt at times that he could stand alone in an empty street and still blend in.

Ironic that in trying to be independent, he had ended up exactly as his parents had feared he would - a recluse, barely able to string a sentence together to the barista he ordered coffee from each morning, let alone a stranger. It seemed as if his brain would purposely set out to sabotage him; streams of fear and pessimism overshadowing any hints of light that peaked through.

As for women? Well, the less said the better.

What would he say?

What if they laughed at him?

Why would anyone want to date a guy like him anyway?

Just going up to a girl was like running an army gauntlet, let alone speaking to one.

He thought about the last time he had had a conversation with someone outside of his work longer than five minutes.

He thought some more.

If someone had looked in from the outside at that moment, he would have appeared a human statue, and eventually David shook his head, sighing, and deleted the Love-finder app. It had been about as successful as the other ones he'd tried.

Loneliness drew in from the corners of the room, trying to curl him into a ball, before he composed himself and walked on autopilot to the sink to wash some dishes.

Family members always told him 'Mrs Right' was just around the corner. He snorted as he grabbed a dish and began carefully scrubbing it. Hard to believe she exists when, A. You're a 25-year-old virgin who doesn't get invited to parties and, B. you suffer from anxiety and panic attacks in social situations, so you don't want to go to parties anyway.

Friends were just as troublesome to come by. Most of his school interactions had started with "Hi, I'm David," and ended up in a meltdown due to a social-developmental disorder, which he naturally assumed would mean ending up with the nerdy kids, except they didn't like him either.

He had also never travelled out of his home state of Georgia because, well, stick a list of screwed up issues on the wall and throw a dart.

David continued to carefully scrub the edges of the plate, yawning.

The girl popped into his head.

He stopped scrubbing.

Despite everything... Despite having no friends, despite the panic attacks, despite everything... A glimmer of hope always remained.

Maybe.

Maybe there was someone out there for him.

Just one.

One in a billion.... In seven billion.

The four walls of the tiny kitchen felt like the sides of a cardboard box, tattered and empty.

He knew that whatever happened, he wasn't going to find her in here.

***

"Nice work Dave, as usual."

"Thanks."

"We're going on break to Papa Franks for lunch, want to join us?"

His heart began to quiver.

"Ah no, no you guys go on, I've got a few things to sort here."

"Right.. Don't work too hard bud!"

"Yeah."

He waited until the guys had all filed out before surreptitiously producing a plastic Tupperware box, opening it up.

The same thoughts from last night stewed in his head.

Something needed to change. Get out of the box.

He stared into the middle-distance, and as he did, he noticed something bright out of the corner of his eye; a newspaper on the breakroom table.

Must have been a slow news day, as the front cover was showing a picture in anticipation of the upcoming pride march in Atlanta, women and men resplendent in eye-catching shades of pink, violet, turquoise and a million other obnoxious shades which screamed out amongst the rest of the dull images placed alongside them.

Curiosity crept over him as David leaned over and drew the image to him.

Beautiful women lining the streets; Men laughing, kissing, waving.

It looked like the most positive place one could imagine. Surely it was just the cleverness of the photographer, but everyone in the photo seemed happy. Not a single downwards curve on any set of lips could be seen amongst the hundreds shown.

And it was in Atlanta. 3 weeks from now.

An idea started to form in his mind.

Under three hours' drive away, and he could go on his days off....

A ray of excitement began to break through the clouds hovering overhead as he took a bite from his sandwich.

What would I say?

You don't need to say anything, just turn up.

What if they laugh at me?

Everyone's laughing!

Why would they even look at a guy like me?

He paused on this thought.

The sandwich slowed its trajectory towards his mouth.

Don't think about it.

His brain for once managed to push the pessimism to one side, and it felt like an extra pair of lungs had been attached to his body, because now his brain was firing off incredible scenarios and possibilities, that nugget of hope fanning the flames.

There were almost six million people in Atlanta... He only needed one to like him.

Maybe he could meet her there - Mrs Right.

David stared down at the photo, sandwich forgotten.

Three weeks.

***

The intervening time to reflect brought a wave of negativity, his mind railing against his strive for happiness.

It's a two-and-a-half-hour drive!

It'll be crowded beyond belief.

You'll be walking a tightrope with your anxiety... why not stay in bed?

Despite this, he couldn't help looking forward to it.... It even made his twelve-hour shifts in the warehouse go quicker!

When the day arrived, he spent the morning picking out a t-shirt that he thought look okay on him, and his usual jeans.

Should he go colourful?

Everyone had seemed garishly dressed, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything other than choose a slightly brighter red shirt that would perhaps help him blend in.

'There you go again... always trying to hide.'

His feet seemed to drag without meaning to as he made his way to the car, and the doubts returned with greater force.

What are you doing?

This is going to be a waste of time.

You're a loner, it's just who you are!

Despite it all, he forced himself into the driver's seat and set off, satnav bringing him to the highway where traffic was smooth, for now at least.

The nagging thoughts followed, pouring in like a flood into a volcano, dousing the excitement and arousing scenarios taking place with grey, lifeless nothing.

By the time David approached the outskirts of the city he was a jittering wreck, clinging to the wheel as he wrestled with the idea of wrenching it sideways to fly back to the safety of his apartment, tail between his legs.

No, no he needed to try. If he failed... Well, then he could spend the rest of his years wallowing in his own self-pity.

After what felt like an age, the car swept through the streets of Atlanta, and everything exploded. Colours, sounds, smells, everything bursting to life as he gawped at the throngs of people gathering, all going towards the city centre.

The city had a verdant green to it that seemed to permeate everywhere, unusual for an area so urban, brought to life by the packed bodies moving through its arteries as the sounds of whoops and hollers jolted him, a group of girls jogging past his car and tittering at something they had seen up ahead.

It was magical, even as he felt his brain tremble, locked in a cage of its own making. He would need to get out and among them if he wanted to find her...

If 'her' even existed...

After parking his car for what turned out to be a ludicrous fee (another reason to doubt everything he was doing), he took a deep breath, and shuffled around the corner, into the masses heading to the main central streets.

Colours.

Splashes of yellow and pink tugged his eyes left and right, unable to decide whether to settle on jiggling breasts in skimpy string bras, or asses clad in leather thongs with bulges of varying sizes.

He spied one which made him blanch, attached to a black transvestite who looked like they could bench a small lorry, surrounded by an array of young white men, all of whom must have been around twenty-one max. The figure was making out with them one by one, before starting with the first again.

He shivered and wound past two men in biker outfits making out with each other, grabbing the other's leather pants, and a bunch of girls wearing pink bikinis and thrusting a sign saying 'love' in the air.

David felt like a raw wound where the scab had peeled off. Exposed, trying to avoid being affected too much by the sensory overload.

"What am I doing here?" he muttered.

His heart stopped as a pretty girl in a blue dress skipped up to him with a paintbrush.

"Hey, ya here for pride?"

"Um.... Uh..."

She gave him a sympathetic look.

"It's okay. Everyone's welcome! Want me to put a flag on ya?"

"Uhh... Yes Ma'am?"

She dipped her brush in a little tray to her side and quickly applied the colours as he tried not to stare at her silver bellybutton piercing.

"Perfect!!"

She showed him a mirror of his face with a rainbow on the side before pottering off to paint someone else.

She didn't hate me.

The confidence bloomed in his chest, and he strode a little taller through the streets... and then he saw something which enclosed his heart in a deadly grip, and squeezed.

It was not the giant bamboo forest suspended on a float moving slowly down the street towards them, nor the collection of dancing ladies dressed in such meagre clothing that it was hard to spot where it actually existed on their bodies.

No, it was the figure standing in front of the bamboo forest, well over six feet tall, pulling him in with her indomitable presence as she smiled and waved to the people below. He ogled over her huge, curvy body, supple lips and small, raven black ponytail.

Then, to his horror, a large group of people moved in the way.

"Wa... No!" he moaned, rushing round the side, looking for some way of catching one more glimpse.

But the people had come. The crowd was now thick, a wall of bodies, and he found himself jumping just to try and see over them.

Impossible. There were too many.

He wrung his hands, looking for another way, eyes wide.

In his moment of desperation, he noticed a lamppost.

***

Aimi gazed across the adoring faces and waved. Dressed in a Kimono covered in rainbow flowers that hinted at her luxurious assets, she drew everyone's eye, formidable height enhanced by the float on which she stood.

She felt like a queen in her kingdom, surrounded by feverish subjects who bayed to her whim, kissing the air at young men and women who swooned were they stood.

'As they should', she thought. At 6'6, she always stood out, although her face was delicate, like a gentle Japanese housewife, at odds with the way her heavy curves fleshed out the kimono healthily.

A few men looked at her with something approaching fear. This usually meant one of two things; either they hadn't seen a woman that tall and curvy before, or, more likely, they had heard of her reputation as the 'Manītā' in Japanese, or in English, 'Maneater'.

She winked at one who scarpered off, making her chuckle.

There were very few women (and lesser yet transsexuals, of which she was proud to be one) who had the height, the weight, but more importantly the attitude, of a true top. She briefly thought over some of the pretty men she had brought back and 'enlightened' in her bedroom when she was younger. Their shock when they realised she had a huge cock, their fear as she took hold of them... their panting as she came inside them.

One boy briefly tried to climb the float, but she stopped him with a stern gaze, and he crept back down, cowed. (She had little time for boys who were impolite, enjoying more of an affinity for the ones who had to be coerced, teased into her grasp.)

The midday sun played across her porcelain skin, making her appear luminescent, huge bosom stretching against the soft fabrics of her dress gown. (All clothes were tight around the front for Aimi, but she preferred it that way... it was fun to watch little boys lose their minds over it.)

As she was waving she noticed something peculiar - A young man, shimmying his way up a lamppost.

'How odd.'

People bayed at her as she passed them a more nonchalant wave, watching the figure as he gripped the next part up and hauled himself to the top.

'Impressive....'

The closer she looked, the more intrigued she became, careful not to stare, but always passing her eyes over him as she sated the needs of the hundreds around her.

He wasn't wearing tight clothes, multicoloured rainbows, or sporting dyed hair. Neither did he exude a need to be seen, ignoring completely the people below him who were cheering him on.

His eyes were only for her.

Her more frequent glances across him began to excite her beyond the usual boundaries of lust. It was almost like oceans crashing into each other, a moment of pure chemistry as she took in the cute little goatee, soft skin, hazel eyes bearing a need that she desperately wanted to sate.

For a moment her smile faltered as she couldn't stop herself gazing openly at him, and then she hitched an awkward grin back on her face for the crowd as her brain scrambled for answers.

'Who are you, little monkey...?.'

She had to clench her fist by her side to keep herself calm and stop the blood from flowing to her groin, but her body wouldn't listen, already beginning a process that had her grunting as she awkwardly adjusted herself whilst trying to maintain the illusion of serenity.

Her hands fiddled with the steel pipe tucked underneath the Kimono and nudged it so it wouldn't make a noticeable shape under her gown, letting out a sigh of relief so it wasn't pressed awkwardly in front of her.

One more time she snapped her eyes to him, and nearly screamed.

He was awkwardly looking down at the people trying to cheer him, and had turned to reveal a bubble butt that would haunt her dreams.

"Kuso," Aimi murmured, running a hand through her ponytail as she plastered the smile on her face so it wouldn't slip off, squirming in her sandals. She had to press down on the urge to charge off the float, wade through the crowd and murder the ass of the most perfect creature she had ever seen in front of a thousand shocked spectators, her reactions now mechanical as butterflies swarmed in her intestines.

'Don't look at him.'

She kept her gaze firmly away as the float approached, and then passed the figure.

The imprint on her soul however, remained, saliva oozing into her mouth as she now paid barely any attention to the pride procession at all. She had a man to consume.

***

David tried to drink the figure in as she drifted past, whimpering as she was lost behind the bamboo thicket, unaware of his existence.

The banner over her float had said 'Miss Right 2021' and 'Aimi Pride'... she must be well known in the LGBT community.... But why? Thousands had been chanting her name.

He watched the large forest recede forlornly, surrounded by bodies. That was probably the last time he would ever get that close to a woman like her.

Then he looked down and groaned, clutching the dirty metal tight to his chest.

He had never felt an affinity to his ape ancestors before, and nothing had changed to dissuade him from this notion. In fact he had no idea what possessed him to clamber up to this height, and as Aimi disappeared from view David realised just how far he'd actually managed to get off the ground.

'Ah.'

Good to know height was now another thing to add to the list of fears.

The soft figure began to shimmy his legs down an inch at a time, face red whilst trying not to look at any of the people cheering or laughing at him, no longer possessed by the vigour of his ascent.

When he reached the ground relief filled him, before the beautiful woman took over his thoughts.

The magnetism that she had exuded... she could get any man she wished, and there had been many bowing at her feet.

He had thought for a heart-stopping moment that she had glanced in his direction, but as the float had closed in it became clear she wasn't looking at him at all; in fact if anything, she had avoided his gaze.

The wierdo on the lamppost.

'Repelling everyone around you. That's all you're good for.'

It was enough for his demons to take over, and he hung his head, looking to burn the shame away.

His car was parked near the front of the parade.... There would be no getting out for many hours, and he would have to traipse back through the crowd of happy people again.

Screw it, find a hotel, go back in the morning, go home, die.

When he arrived at what looked like a sad excuse for a hotel he checked in immediately, barely acknowledged by the freckled man on the front desk, and tried to ignore the occasional ecstatic whoop outside as he slithered to a small room, before curling up in a ball on the bed.

***

Aimi was licking her jowels as she descended from the float.

'Where are you my little monkey??'

It was just after four, but she knew there would be parties through the night. Still plenty of time to find her muse.

The thrill of licking over the boy in her mind's eye had veins in her temple pulsing like a lioness on the hunt as she scanned through the crowd of people ogling, calling her name.