Natural Inclinations Pt. 03

Deciding there was no better time to look at the pictures he had taken earlier and what better way than on the larger computer monitor. By now, everything had had time to sync between his phone and his Google Photos Folder, so he opened it up on the PC. He patiently scrolled through the many pictures he'd taken. For sure, some were better than others. But he still delighted and marveled at just how sexy he looked. His longish hair somehow seemed to add to the illusion. The person in these pictures could just as well be of a young developing girl as they could be of a boy wearing his sister's bikini. For the first time in his life, he was glad he had almost no facial hair and that his features tended towards the youthful softer side.

Not quite to the last one, his phone chimed and vibrated on the bedside table. It was another message from Miss Janice. "Did you see my last message?" He responded that he had. "Well, what did you think?"

He told her how he had laughed about small and micropenises. Then, almost bragging, "I'm glad I don't fall into either of those categories."

Now it was Janice's turn to laugh -- not that he could hear her. "Boy's," she said to herself. "They are so cute when they overestimate what they've got." She messaged back, "OK 2 send you something?"

Curious what it could be, he quickly replied, "Sure" A moment later, a picture popped up on his screen. It was a close-up of two guys facing each other. Both were naked sporting erections; one was much longer than the other. The image was followed with a question. "Did you get that?" He answered that he had. "Good. I've got a few more to send you." Almost immediately, another text came in. "DO NOT message me again tonight. I want you to look at each picture very carefully. Save your thoughts until tomorrow." There was a pause. "Understood???"

"Yes. Sure. OK!" Then, one-by-one, the pictures began to pop up on his screen -- seven in all. Each image was a close-up of a small penis alongside and in comparison to one (or more) much longer and thicker ones. Usually, when perusing the Internet for porn, he had glossed over and disregarded any dick pics he encountered. Not so this time. Peter did just as he had been instructed. With an intensity usually reserved for naked women and sex scenes, he reverently studied each picture. Even going back to pick out the smallest details of the significant differences in length and thickness. Circumcised or uncut. Something else he picked up on; the noticeable difference in testicular size between the guys with small vs. large cocks. Looking at cocks enthralled him in ways he never thought possible.

Before he knew it, it was time to turn in. One last trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and pee. When he pulled down the bikini bottom to pee, he was somewhat taken aback to discover that he had been leaking pre-cum. "From looking at cocks?!" Still, after flushing, he pulled the bottoms back up, wet spot and all, then crawled into bed.

Before falling asleep, he readjusted his pecs again, filling the bra cups. If he was going to be sleeping in girls' wear, he would make himself look like one. Even if he couldn't see the results.

Everything about laying in bed felt strange. For the first time in Peter's memory, he wore no pajamas. Instead, aside from the little bikini, he was naked. His skin was in direct contact with the cool sheets, which did feel good on his sunburnt back and butt. The two narrow zones on his body where his skin was not being touched by the sheets only acted as reminders of the cute and feminine items he was wearing. Just the same, the hugging sensation around his rib cage was very comforting. And sure enough, he drifted off to sleep.

His dreams however were filled with cocks. He was in a research lab. One cock after another was presented to him for his examination. Some were flaccid, while others were fully erect. To protect the identity of each male specimen, he wore a mask. They could see Peter, but he wouldn't be able to identify them.

A voice came over the speaker telling Peter that as each cock was in front of him, he was to hold it in his hands. He was to thoroughly examine it at all angles. Feel its weight and dimensions. If flaccid, then he was to massage and stroke it until fully erect. Another part of the research required that he also cup and heft each man's testicles. Fully examining size and weight, then carefully pulling down on his balls to measure the length of his scrotum. As the dream progressed, the next phase of research required that he not merely stroke each cock, but he was expected to masturbate each until and through ejaculation, collecting and measuring the amount of sperm discharged. The PA voice informed him that his pay would be based on the total volume of cum collected. More cum, better pay.

It didn't matter that the only penis Peter had ever touched, let alone masturbated, was his own. In his dream, somehow, he knew exactly how to masturbate others. And do it well. Good thing too. A big payoff was on the line.

At some point in this dream, his attire changed from what a boy would wear to being dressed as a girl. All while still being a guy underneath. This change of wardrobe incentivized him to treat each one of his subjects with a more feminine approach. By refining his facial expressions, vocal range, and demeanor to that of a female resulted in his volunteer subjects producing larger loads of cum.

The cocks presented to him were of every thickness and length. Skin colors ranged from the palest white to the darkest brown. Each one was just as fascinating to touch and masturbate as the last.

Unable to see his subjects' faces, every sigh, each moan of pleasure from the volunteer meant he/she was doing everything right. At all times, his outward demeanor projected true professionalism. However, inwardly he delighted in the knowledge that he was giving each man an enjoyable encounter. Considering that the only ejaculations Peter had ever experienced were his own, somehow, his mind was still able to conjure up what it felt like to hold another person's cock in his hand as it swelled and pulsed. The cum rising and finally spewing and spurting out into the collection bottle. The sight and feel thrilled him.

Some cum was thin and watery, others extra thick and gooey, and everything in between. Inevitably a certain amount of sperm would dibble down around Peter's fingers. But no matter how slippery and slimy his fingers became, he would continue stroking and squeezing until every drop of precious white cream had been wrung out and collected.

Dreams are funny things. We have no control over what happens or what direction they take us. Often they involve things we have seen and done. Then again, they are just as likely to reveal secret desires.

In Peter's dream, he is advised that the cum on his fingers is considered contaminated and should not be added to that subject's collection. With surveillance cameras watching, he's instructed that he is required to lick his fingers clean before tending to the next volunteer. At first, this unsettles Peter, but he does as he is told. After taking his first taste, he realized that all along, his mouth had been salivating each time he successfully caused a guy to orgasm. This turns out to be a good turn of events after all. Only now, the volunteer is still in the room and watching as Peter licks the sweet goo from his fingers. This inspires Peter to further refine his female mannerisms, to look like a girl eager to enjoy the savory cream. Knowing that this not only entertains the mystery volunteer, it is also amusing the voyeurs watching on camera.

By now, Peter was really turning on the charm. Doing anything and everything that he can think of to elicit his volunteers' strongest positive reaction. In the process, he is also hopeful of getting his fingers messy once more. After ringing out the last drops of one of the largest cocks of the day and bringing his cum covered fingers to his mouth Peter looked up to see that this man wore no mask. The man who he had so lovingly and expertly masturbated, the guy who's delicious cum he was enjoying, was his own father!

Needless to say, while his dream was a good one, it was also turned into something rather unsettling. As a whole, his sleep was restless and not restful. After multiple hours of tossing and turning, he was up and out of bed. Long before he had to be.

The front panel of the bikini was soaked with pre-cum. Ever since he put it on, the snugness of the bikini prevented him from getting an erection. After all these hours, his sexual frustration was turned up to eleven. If only he hadn't promised to not masturbate.

A cool shower should help take that frustration down a few notches, as well as rinse away much of the evidence. As a precaution, he showered without removing the bikini. Taking it off would be freeing his dick to become erect, most certainly leading to uncontrollable masturbating. Better to leave it on and remove all temptation.

Of course, bathing while wearing anything was a strange experience. Soaping and rinsing the bikini along with the rest of his body. As if it was permanently a part of his skin. What really set this shower apart from any other was peeing. Much of the stream forced its way through the thin material, spraying everywhere. The rest ran down his legs. The heat of his piss contrasted with the cold water of the shower. The strangeness of all this only furthered to fuel his desire to masturbate.

After waking up, he had only vague recollections of his dreams. And now, after the cool shower, those quickly faded from memory. Instead, his conscious mind worked to distract him from his want for release and focus on the day ahead. What surprise did Miss Janice have waiting for him, he wondered?

Much calmer now after the shower, he patted himself dry, paying extra attention to blotting as much dampness from the bikini as possible.

Back in his room, he picked up his phone and noticed a missed phone call and a message.

There was a voice message from his mother in London. It was nothing special. They were seeing lots of sights and had stopped for lunch. She wanted to remind him of the time difference if he wanted to talk to them. But regardless, he should text them every day or so. Then she said something that struck a nerve. "Please make nice to our new neighbor. I'm sure she would like some help and the company."

If his mother only knew just how well he and Miss Janice were getting along.

Her message ended with both parents yelling into her phone, "We love you!" then the disconnecting beep.

Before going back to spend who knows how much time with Miss Janice, it was best that he send a quick text response. He let them know he was fine and yes, he had "introduced himself" to the new neighbor. A smile came to his face. "And how!" he muttered. He closed with, "I love you too" and hit Send.

Downstairs -- after another multi-vitamin chased down with a big glass of water -- he settled on a toasted English Muffin and a cup of hot tea for breakfast. Seated at the breakfast bar waiting for the water to boil, he thought of an additional something for his parents to read. "I miss you. But NOT TOO MUCH," ending with a smiley face. As he hit Send, the tea kettle began whistling and the muffin popped up.

When done with breakfast, he cleared his mess. Once again, he saw what he continued to all but forget about: What he was wearing. He chuckled to himself. "My god! If mom could see what I've got on ... and have had on for almost twelve hours straight. I bet I'd be getting a spanking from her!" and he laughed more loudly. "Geez! Either way, I'd be screwed. Mom spanking me for what I'm wearing, or the neighbor spanking me for taking it off." This brought another round of laughter.

"Make nice with the new neighbor," he snorted. "Hey, mom. Look what that nice lady next door wanted me to wear. Don't you like it? Didn't you tell me that before I was born, you were hoping for a girl?" He did a little pirouette and, in an effeminate voice, said, "Well, now you got your wish."

Making his way back to his room, the words and sounds of what he had just said echoed in his head. "Is it my imagination, or did something sounding like a girl really come out of my mouth?" Unconvinced, right there in the narrower space of the hallway, he repeated the line. What came back to his ears did, in fact, sound an awful lot like a girl had spoken it. This forced him to ask himself, "Where the hell did that come from? And when did I learn to make my voice sound like that?"

Standing in front of his mirror, looking at the bikini-clad figure and gender-neutral face looking back at him, he tried out that voice once more. "Hi there. Are you new here?"

A blast of adrenaline shot through him. "Damn! That was almost believable." Inspired, he picked up his hairbrush and began moving his hair around in different ways attempting to accomplish the desired look.

However, he never quite achieved his objective. Looking in the mirror, he muttered, "Close but no cigar." Still, it was as close as he could manage and decided to take a picture.

When the screen on his phone lit up, he panicked. "Oh, CRAP!" It was 8:57. He had just three minutes to get to Miss Janice's, and all he had on was the bikini. Opening a dresser drawer, he grabbed the first things he saw.

At precisely nine AM, Peter stood gasping for air on his new neighbor's front porch, lightly knocking on the door.

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Chapter 12

"Yes? Can I help you?" Standing in her open doorway, Janice spoke like she wasn't expecting him. In fact, not only in her voice but even her expression made him feel like she no idea who he was!

"Ahh... Miss Janice, you told me to be here at nine o'clock."

"I'm sorry, but you can not come inside. I was expecting someone else at nine. A sweet young thing in a bikini. Not some teenage boy heading off to play soccer."

Picking up on her not-so-subtle hint, he lifted the bottom of his t-shirt enough, so the bikini top was visible. "It's me, Miss Janice. See?"

"No, no. That can not be. I gave precise instructions. The person I'm expecting was to arrive wearing only the bikini I had provided. It's a shame too. I bought some nice surprises specifically for that person.

The longer she teased him about the clothes he was wearing, and because of that, possibly of never getting to see what she had bought just for him was really getting to him. He pulled out the waistband of his shorts so she could see the baby blue bikini underneath, but that still wasn't good enough. "Again, I'm sorry,' she said. "But my house is no longer open to anyone dressed like you are. If you want to come into my house, that 'BOY' stuff has got to go."

"Now? Here???"

The 'time's wasting' glare she gave was all the answer needed. Without bothering to look if anyone else was near enough to hear or see this exchange, Peter stepped out of his sneakers. (So he wouldn't be late, they never got tied.) Next, he took off the t-shirt, then dropped and stepped out of the shorts. There he stood in broad daylight, yet again, wearing nothing but a girls' bikini. The only thing on Peter's mind was being allowed to reenter Miss Janice's funhouse. "Is this better, Miss Janice?"

"Oh yes. There she is. There's my sweet little one." At this stage of things, the words Janice chose to use made little difference to him. The lovely song in her voice made him smile. Continuing to speak in a motherly tone, she told him not to leave his discarded clothes in a pile. But should instead fold and place them neatly on the porch chair. Just like a youngster looking to gain favor for obedience, he did just that. And sure enough, that is precisely what happened. "Oh, sweetie. You did that so nicely. Now you may come inside." Like a puppy dog, he followed right on her heels, dancing around behind her as she closed the door.

"I am so glad to see you. I can't get over how cute that bikini makes you look. I had almost forgotten just how well it fits you and how terrific you look in it. It really matches your personality and accentuates your figure." He was eating up the compliments. And from what he had seen in his own mirror, he could understand why she would feel that way.

Falling right into this line of thought, he confessed that he had just been playing around with his hair, "I thought maybe I could fix it to more closely match what I was wearing." This admission thrilled Janice. She suggested that possibly later, they could work on that together. "That sounds like fun, Miss Janice." Anything that would allow him to stay with her longer would be well worth it.

"So, tell me, Peter, have you gotten used to wearing bikinis? Doesn't it make you feel kind of special?"

"Well, Miss Janice. I wouldn't say it makes me feel all that special, but once I got used to it, it is pretty comfortable." She then asked if he was tired of getting hugged. This question caused him to blush. "I..." He straightened his back, pulling the top a little snugger. "I guess I kinda like it. It also makes me feel a little funny." She asked in what way. "I don't know. When I stop thinking about what I'm wearing, somehow, I feel like I'm being comforted. But when I move a certain way, or see myself in a mirror, I get a strange tingling inside." She asked if it was a good tingle or a bad tingle. "Oh, it's a good tingle. I guess it's kinda the way you feel when you are near someone who cares and loves you. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes. I think I do." She moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You mean something like this."

Peter melted into her embrace." Mmmm, yes. Just like that."

"So, I think it's safe to say that wearing the whole bikini makes you feel pretty, doesn't it?" Peter could feel his face flushing. "That's because you are pretty." Hearing her say that about him only caused him to melt further.

Together, they slowly began rocking gently back and forth, almost like dancing. Peter closed his eyes and softly purred, hardly noticing her hands drifting across his belly and chest before coming to rest on his breasts. As she slowly cupped and massaged his barely-there tits, she whispered her next question. "How was sleeping while getting hugged? Did you have good dreams?"

In an almost trance-like state, Peter answered, "Yeah. Pretty good." Oddly though, in this current mental state, details of his dream gradually began coming back to him. Ever so slowly, he was able to recall what those dreams had been about. Eager for her to continue holding him while not wanting to keep anything from Miss Janice, he spoke in hushed tones as details of his dream came back to him.

He told of his experiences as a paid associate in a medical experiment working with volunteer male subjects. He told of his job to masturbate these men and collect their semen. Still whispering in his ear, Janice provided prompts to spark additional details to come forward. It didn't take long for him to recall how thrilling it was to hold and stroke every one of those men's cocks. Soon after, he revealed feelings of admiration, bordering on jealousy, of the large quantities of cum he could coax from these strangers. And that in dressing and pretending to be a girl had worked to further increase their output.

"Did you recognize any of the men?" she asked.

"They all wore masks, so I couldn't see their faces." Just as he said that, it sparked a memory. "All except the last guy. I didn't notice until..." The words caught in his throat.

"Until, what?" Janice asked eagerly.

"I just remembered. My fingers would get slimy with extra cum. They required me to lick my fingers clean before doing the next guy. And I liked it so much I started making sure to miss the jar so some would end up on my fingers." Janice was all ears and smiling broadly. "It was like I became addicted to it." That finally broke him from the trance. But by then, the cat was out of the bag.