Layers Fan Fiction

Craig sat and pulled his legs free and then up against his chest and his bulging belly.

"Fuck. What the fuck," he gasped, still breathing hard. "What the fuck is that?"

His mind was blank as he stared at the inside of the rubbery suit where it was bunched on the floor. He refused to think of anything while he tried to calm himself until, nearly thirty minutes later, he grabbed the suit and stuffed it into the box, closing the lid and shoving it completely beneath the bed. Once finished, he slipped under covers and stared at the wall.

It had all felt incredibly real. The weight of her tits had pulled at his back and his thighs had pressed together with nothing between them. He jerked and reached down, suddenly fearing that it was gone but his fist closed over his cock and he sighed in relief. It stirred, unfolding as he remembered how she had looked. As he remembered the way her pussy had looked in the brief glimpse he'd had.

Craig closed his eyes and masturbated slowly, picturing all of it again. He moaned and froze the image of her bare legs in his mind, using that to imagine sliding into her. Remembering the way his voice sounded but turning it into moans of pleasure until he came, jerking and gasping and digging his heels into the bed.

Once finished, he lay there, exhausted. Mind reeling. But, slowly, slowly he fell into deep sleep.

The next day at school, Craig found his mind wandering. He caught himself staring at other girls at random times. Comparing himself to them. Her. Comparing her to them. She'd looked older, perhaps twenty-eight. Mature in an important, unknowable way. Her figure showed it. Her breasts were larger than almost every other girl at his school.

Was it real? he asked himself towards the end of the day. He realized he'd been in such a panic that the details escaped him. It unzipped. I was able to take it off. Maybe- Maybe I should try it again. I could take pictures with my phone and then use those.

He started to become excited at the idea and began to watch the clock, bouncing his foot anxiously until the day ended and he rushed him, slowing only when he saw his dad's car still home. Craig walked away, wandering the neighborhood before checking at home again to see the spot empty. He rushed inside, stepping out of his shoes and closing his bedroom door while dropping his backpack. His smartphone was older with a cracked screen and a cloudy camera but it worked.

Once more, he stripped, folding his clothes properly to lay them on the bed before taking the suit out. He stepped into it, pressing his toes in properly before holding one arm in place and then the other. The entire suit strained over his body with the belly bulging outward until he pressed the face in place and it sealed around him.

The now-familiar tightening sensation returned and he shrunk, losing inches as the dress and necklace separated from the suit.

Craig pressed his reddened lips together while breathing through his nose. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to hold himself together until it was too much and he moaned, falling to the bed while hugging his slim body.

When he hunched forward, muscles twinged uncomfortably, forcing him to sit straight. He slowed his breathing with his hands on his lap and then searched the dress until he found a zipper hidden behind a flap on the back. He unzipped himself and then pulled the dress aside to stare down at his body.

She wore no bra so his breasts were bare and perfect and firm and, when he reached up to touch them, warm and soft to the touch. His light brown nipples lay flat in the center of the wide areola while he slowly caressed himself.

"Amazing," he gasped with her voice.

He leaned back to stare at her smooth, firm stomach and the white panties. His heart raced and a strange sensation was pulsing deep within his belly. He waited, staring at his thighs before touching them. Stroking them. Running his fingertips over the incredibly smooth skin. Finally, with his heart in his throat, he slipped out of the panties.

Craig grabbed his phone, reaching out to angle it between his thighs. He spread his legs and watched as the skin opened to show slim, pink lips hidden behind larger rounded lips.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered while taking pictures. He turned the camera to see his face, shying away from a moment before firming and staring down. "You're beautiful."

The boy tried different expressions while staring at the camera. She was naturally attractive even if he simply let his face relax but her smile was breathtaking. The camera clicked away as he turned his face one way and then another, dipping his head and then blowing a kiss. Another picture had him licking his lips and then next he lifted his breast. And then yet another while pushing his head down in an effort to lick his own nipple.

Craig slid back to lay on his bed with his legs spread. He stared at his vagina and then slid a finger down to open himself. The lips parted and he groaned before turning back to stare at the pink hole within. He squeezed and the hole constricted until he felt muscles slipping together within. Warmth suffused his body. Licking his lips, he slid a shaking finger down to press inside. He clenched against the finger automatically and gasped, dropping the camera.

The boy forced himself to relax while pressing the tip of his finger inside until he realized he was dry. He brought his finger to his mouth to wet it but stopped and smelled it, intrigued by the scent of her. It was sweet with a sharp undertone and he licked it carefully. And then he moaned, sliding his finger into his mouth. That felt good and he found himself rubbing his finger back and forth against his tongue while clenching his other hand against his thigh.

Finally, he brought the finger down but was amazed to find wetness already waiting for him. He pushed and moaned again when his finger sunk inside. It was such an alien, unique feeling and he loved it. Despite only being able to push halfway past the first knuckle, he worked the finger back and forth, moaning quietly. His hips moved slowly in their own rhythm, back and forth to match his finger.

"Ow!" he snapped, snatching his finger out. His nail had scratched inside and that wasn't pleasant.

Still, it was enough. He had enough pictures for months of masturbation. He reached up, feeling for the zipper beneath his hair and he pulled, groaning as it released him. Once done, he folded it carefully with the clothes and lay it inside the box.

The woman in the pictures was sexier than he could imagine. He grew hard quickly while flicking between the pictures, staring at her face. At his face. And then between her thighs when he reached those pictures. Grunting and pulling and stroking. It was so very different from how his finger had felt inside.

When he came, he cleaned up and lay still on top of his blanket.

Without a word, he pulled the suit free and once more slipped into it. He could barely feel the way it compressed around him now and he stared down, once more, at his breasts and thighs. Leaning back, his tits pulled to the side and now he played with them, toying with his nipples and moaning when they hardened. His free hand slid down to his pussy and he rubbed himself carefully. His erect nipples shot electricity to the roof of his mouth and down to his sex, increasing his pleasure as he touched himself and, once more, he pressed a finger inside, shoving down to keep his nail from touching anything.

He was already wet and it felt amazing. Craig lost himself in it, pinching and pulling and rubbing his nipple while fingering himself. There was a small, building pressure as the pleasure increased. He whined and rubbed a second finger against his pussy but didn't dare try to push it inside.

After a long time, he pulled his hands away and lay still. He wasn't sure if he'd had an orgasm or not but it didn't matter; he felt so relaxed and good and warm. The boy brought his finger to his mouth, licking it slowly before slipping it between his lips to lick until it was completely clean.

The next day, on Friday, he found himself blushing periodically throughout the day. He felt strange and different, as if he held a secret beyond just the strange suit. A secret knowledge. Once more he stared at the girls in his class and he knew what they felt like.

No, he realized. He knew what their sex felt like. Part of it. A small fraction of it. And even that was addicting.

Later that night, Craig slipped into the suit again. He stood on his carpet. Barefoot. His heart hammered in his chest but he ignored it as he dressed himself, slipping the panties over his legs until they were snug on his crotch. Next, he slid the dress on, zipping it up and pulling it tight against the wide curves of his waist.

"Oh god," he said, with her voice.

The heels were last. He slipped his small feet into the toes and fumbled with the buckles until they were tight. The boy stood and stumbled and fell. And then tried again. And again.

Now standing, Craig settled his dress and stepped. His leg wobbled but he straightened it and took another step. For the next hour, he walked through the house on carpet and tile until he found himself stepping gracefully.

Stairs were the next challenge. He held the rail tight while stepping up and then down once he reached the top.

He spent the evening inside, walking and bending and crouching until he was mostly comfortable with the motions. At one point, he stopped to make food for himself but found himself unable to finish all of it.

Craig woke Saturday morning, stretching and twisting in bed.

His breasts slid against him and he shrieked, barely covering his mouth in time to muffle the sound.

He'd gone to bed wearing the suit without even realizing what he'd done.

In an adrenaline fueled panic, he unzipped himself and placed the suit back in the box with the clothes. He'd had the presence of mind to undress but still wore the suit to bed and that bothered him somewhat.

He showered and dressed and ate before leaving for work - a full shift today that left him exhausted when he came back to an empty house. His dad would be out with his buddies drinking, he knew. As always, he wouldn't be back until the morning, completely and utterly wasted.

Craig pulled the box out to stare at it. He opened it but sat back on the bed once more. Now that he stared at it from an angle, he saw something small tucked into the side. He reached in and pulled out a small blue purse. The boy unzipped the purse to find a thin wallet with only a driver's license inside. His eyes bulged when he saw the issued date listed with the current date.

"Tamara Wilson?" he said out loud, staring at the name. There was even a signature. And a birthday in March. She was twenty-six years old.

A cold finger touched his spine. Craig hid the ID and grabbed a piece of paper to write the name from the card. He turned the ID back over and cursed as he compared the signatures. They were nearly a perfect match.

"Shit," he said finally.

Craig lay back against his bed with his hands on his belly. He'd practiced walking around the house yesterday for a specific purpose but now that it was time to do what he'd planned, he was terrified and finding the driver's license only made it worse. It felt- he struggled with the right word until settling on way - disconcertingly inevitable. As if the decision had been taken away from him. As if he were being forced down a path he hadn't chosen.

"Except, that's not right," he said out loud. "I chose to buy the box. I chose to try wearing it. And to try wearing it outside. Even before I found the purse. Whatever this is, it's just trying to help me. That's all. This is still my choice."

And yet, he lay there for twenty minutes before pushing himself out of bed to slip into the suit. It was seamless to him now, sealing against every part of his body as he inserted them until finally fusing to his face. He dressed quickly, stepped into his heels, grabbed the purse in his fist and walked towards the door.

The cool evening air greeted him and he froze, suddenly anxious.

What if I'm imagining all of this? What if someone can tell what I'm doing? What if I'm really wearing a weird suit and it looks good to me but fake to everyone else?

He took a step. And another until he was walking down the path to the sidewalk and turning left. His real wallet was in the purse with the other one. He held the purse in his hand until slinging it over his shoulder to hold it against his side.

"Nice legs, sexy!" a random man yelled from a passing car. It took seconds before Craig realized he was who the man was speaking to. He flushed red to the tips of his ears but kept walking.

Further down the sidewalk, foot traffic increased and he caught men staring at him. And a few women. His skin crawled at the attention but he tried to ignore it as he stood trembling at the intersection. Once the light changed, he lurched forward but told himself to calm down and walk like he'd practiced.

Four blocks away he reached the bar. He stopped, fumbling for his purse but the doorman waved him on. "No charge for women tonight, honey, go on in. I like your hair, by the way."

"Th- thanks," Craig said, his blush returning. As he passed, the doorman's eyes slid down to his chest and Craig burned.

I need to buy a bra, he told himself but froze inside when he realized what he'd thought. He shook his head and continued inside, once again drawing attention.

"Don't see them look like that these days," a gruff voice said several tables away. "Nice."

Craig could feel the eyes against him, as if they were a physical touch that wandered his body from the curve of his neck to his bulging breasts and down to his wide hips and generous ass. He felt naked in his blue dress. His legs were exposed beneath them and his calves showed, propped up by his heels. The panties pressed between his ass, leaving the cheeks as bare as his legs. Anyone could see if he lifted the dress. Anyone.

His heart beat quickly as he held himself straight. He could feel it pounding beneath his breasts but also in his throat and his cheeks - thrumming, roaring, burning. His perfectly curled hair brushed against his forehead and neck, startling him suddenly. He almost missed a step but steadied himself and continued winding through the tables.

As he walked, he cast subtle glances at everyone else. Especially the women and his cheeks brightened further. His dress seemed out of place, decades old and more - from another era entirely.

How did I never notice all the different clothes they wear? he asked himself. They wore shorts and blue jeans and slacks and skirts and dresses and things he didn't know the names for. The accessories were even more varied.

Craig reached the bar. He placed one hand on the stool while watching a woman close to his age - to her age - in the far corner. She wore bracelets with multiple studs in her ears and a sleeveless top that dipped far down between her breasts.

He stared. And he wondered how he would look in the outfit. With the bracelets. Whether he could get his ears pierced and how it would feel. There were other outfits he tried to memorize for the future as well.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asked, breaking his reverie.

"I'm- I'm twenty- twenty-six," Craig said, turning and digging through the purse to find the second wallet.

"Aww, now I have to look at your ID because that sounds like you're faking it," the man said while shaking his head.

Craig's hand shook as he pulled the woman's ID out. The bartender took it, lifting it while shining a blacklight against the front of it. He grunted and handed it back.

"Sorry, just have to make sure," he told Craig. "What can I get for you, darlin'?"

"Something, um, something sweet," he said, erring on the side of caution. Women drank sweet things, he thought, and he worried ordering something harder would dispel the illusion.

After a while, a squat glass was set before him, filled with blue liquid. He sipped at it and nodded his thanks, holding it in his hand to drink while looking around the bar. Men glanced away when he stared at them and he looked away in return, embarrassed for both of them. He worked on his drink slowly, relaxing with the alcohol until someone stepped up next to him.

"Hey, I noticed you sitting alone," the voice said. Craig continued to look around the room, oblivious to the man standing beside him until he cleared his throat. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"

Craig choked on his drink before setting it down and staring briefly at the man beside him.

"Just that I saw you alone and wondered if you'd like some company and a refill?" the man said with a warm smile.

"N-n-no th- thank you," Craig stuttered, eyes wide. He barely looked into the man's eyes before staring at the floor and running his finger over his ear to settle his hair into place. His heart thrummed against his chest.

"Alright, but, if you change your mind, I'm sitting over there," the man told him. Craig glanced where he pointed before nodding silently.

After waiting for a few minutes, Craig finished his drink quickly. He set down seven dollars, gathered his purse and left, stumbling once before straightening and walking through the door. More people stared at him on the way home but, when he was safe in his room, he stripped out of the suit again to lay naked beneath his covers.

It had been so incredibly thrilling and terrifying at the same time but he'd done it. He'd done it and enjoyed it. The attention. The feeling of being out there. Of being watched. Of being different.

"Ma'am," he whispered while rubbing his stomach.

He would buy himself a bra. He knew he would. Now that he'd tried it, he couldn't stop.

"Tomorrow," he told himself, picturing it in his mind. Walking out of the house to the bus stop to get a ride to the shopping plaza near downtown. Wearing the suit. Walking into a store to look around. As her.

He held his hands out in front of his face, high above.

"Tamara Wilson," he said, turning his hands over, staring at the difference in the hair on the back of his hands and along his forearms in comparison to her smooth, hairless skin. "Tamara Wilson."

Craig slid out of bed to kneel in front of the box. He lifted the suit and set it on the floor to finally look at what was beneath.

A large black cat's mask stared back at him. He pulled it out to set aside and stare at the large, exaggerated paws before continuing. The next was a dog's muzzle looking out at him. There were faint traces of a human's face in the details but the extended muzzle was clearly dog-like with a doberman's markings. Beneath that was a bunny girl's long ears and cute little face.

He held the last in his hands, folded in his lap.

None of them were what he'd expected but, after what he'd already experienced, he wasn't sure what to expect any more.

Craig pulled the bunny suit on, sighing as he found the hidden holes in the huge paws where his fingers were held in place. He held the head in the paws, taking several deep breaths before pushing the mask up against his face. He waited but nothing happened and he let the head drop.

It was obvious when he thought about it. What he needed to do. He let the suit drop before gracefully stepping into Tamara's suit, moaning as it sealed around him.

And now he held the bunny outfit in his hands. And he smiled with his full, red lips as he took the first step.