Open Question


'Are you a girl?'

'No,' That gorgeous smile growing, across a face whose expression had shifted once more; a more mercurial look now, sly and infinitely challenging.

'Are you a boy, then?'

It was no longer the smile D knew; no longer Marta's smile. In its place was something deeper, at the core of her; D could tell immediately that this wasn't a joke to her. This wasn't a game she was playing, or a little platitude designed to make D herself feel more at ease. This wasn't for anyone else. This was as real as it got.


'Then what does that make you, huh?' D couldn't help herself, she leaned forward. But the question seemed to strike Marta dumb, for a while. The blonde seemed to grapple with the concept quite openly, her tongue running restlessly along the inside of her lip as she thought; of course, that action caused D to begin thinking about her tongue, meaning that for the length of Marta's contemplation the boi's attention was on something else entirely.

'Marta,' She answered finally, with a little nod of pride.

'Nice answer,' D couldn't help but smile at the satisfied expression the answer had given Marta. 'But I can't help but notice it's not an answer at all.'

'Yeah, well... welcome to life beyond the gender binary, D. I would have thought you knew a bit about that,' Marta said with a shrug, though notably she did not sit down again; D wondered- hoped, really- if she had more to show. Oddly, her confusion only seemed to enhance the prurient thoughts running through her mind.

'So what? Are you both? Or none?' D gesticulated vaguely in Marta's direction. 'Either way, how can you be... like that? Doesn't it make you... twitchy?'

'No. Why would it?' Marta asked, tilting her head. 'It's not... one or the other. It's not binary. You're so convinced you need to be a one or a zero, huh? What's so wrong with being a two?'

'We live in a world of ones and zeroes, Marta,' D sighed. 'I get enough stares to know that.'

'No, we just live in a world full of fractions or decimal points,' Marta giggled, shaking her head. 'Only everyone's so convinced that everyone else is a whole number that they're afraid to let slip that they're fraction-curious.'

'I think you mixed the metaphor, there,' D said, after a pause that allowed her to reshuffle her mind slightly. 'Besides, it still doesn't change my point. It's still easy for you, Miss Asexual! You can still look like the one thing...'

'Asexual?' This tripped a grin across Marta's face, soft and unbearably sultry. 'Now, who said anything about that? I never did...'

It was a sudden change, like Marta had shifted gears in her head. All of a sudden she'd gone from brash and showy to sly and suggestive in the space of a few seconds. Before D knew it, the blonde had crossed the distance between them, stepping up onto the couch... not beside D, but on top of her. Warm, soft thighs encircled D's hips.

'Does this seem asexual to you?' Marta asked, giving D no time to make a sound; both hands slipped around D's face, keeping her in an easy position for the blonde's soft, full lips to press against hers. The kiss was immediately deep and shocking, Marta's tongue forcing its way past D's unprepared lips and into her mouth. There was fire to it, heat... a youthful passion that D had long since discarded. The boi couldn't help but shiver a little, feeling the kiss she had fantasized about for months, Marta's active tongue licking across hers. She pulled away with a deep intake of breath, letting out a satisfied sigh as her long hair fanned out behind her.

'What was-?' D began, voice shaky and cheeks flushed. Marta had come on so suddenly...

'I like contradictions,' Marta cut in, eyes like liquid helium, her entire expression projecting unplumbed depths of lust and depravity, almost like a threat. 'Like you. Men with cunts except sometimes they're not. Doesn't make sense, I love that... But you didn't answer my question: does that seem asexual to you? Does this?'

All the time she had been talking, Marta's fingers had been working at the buckle of D's belt, showing off marked dexterity and the kind of easy motion that could only come with practice. Before D could react, rebuff her... anything, those deft fingers had delved into her pants.

'Well? Nothing sexual here? Really?' She grinned, those canine teeth seeming almost wolf-like, predatory. D squirmed, a fact that she didn't fail to notice, 'You're wet, D. I can feel it.'

D could feel it too, of course. The transition had only taken the moment that Marta had kissed her to do it; from zero to a hundred in the space of a single curl of the tongue. Had the blonde's hand not been there, her shorts would have been soaked. This was a moment she had thought about so many times, so many idle fantasies while alone in her room... Marta's fingers... On her pussy...

But not her cock.

It was only a stray thought, but it quickly turned traitorous; all at once, D was hit with the depth of her dysphoria, plunged deep into confusion. Suddenly, her body wasn't right, harder than before. She was struck with an acute sense of not being right in her flesh. Without a word she shrugged off Marta's advances, pushed the woman away; any other day this would have been fine, but... not like this.

'Stop that,' She said quickly, trying her hardest not to sound hurt. In response, Marta simply held up her hand demonstratively, traceries of D's wetness still upon her fingers, glistening in the light. Another pang of oddness shot through the boi, and D turned her gaze away; tears threatened, eyes prickling, but this only made things worse. It was so absurd, such a girly reaction... her own body, rebelling against her. Only Marta's hand, laid gently and supportively on her shoulder, stopped them from flowing.

'You're going as a guy this Halloween,' She said. 'It's decided.'

'But I'm not one,' D answered, bitterness so harsh it could etch glass coating her voice. Even so, some small part of her cheered; just being this openly sour about her gender was a minor victory. She had never been able to so much as admit it to another before today...

'Halloween is a special night, where the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Where monsters roam the streets and all the hot girls dress up real slutty,' Marta paused long enough to tilt D's chin with her fingers, raising the boi's eyeline to hers. 'It's the one night of the year when you can be whoever you want to be with no consequences, and you're going to miss it? Hell no you're not, D!'

Her usual restless energy seemed to return to her, and Marta took up pacing the floor of her apartment as D watched from the couch. Normally the boi would be entirely too shy to people-watch this brazenly, but... so many lines had been crossed already today, and besides, Marta was too deep in thought to notice much.

'It's settled, my dapper gentleman,' She said finally, eyeing D with an appraising look. 'I'mma get you a costume! Leave it to me!'


And so...

It had only taken Marta a shockingly small span of time to organize a costume for D; the boi got her summons a mere three days later, entering Marta's apartment to find a vast array of clothes, piled up and meticulously folded on her couch. Two small clothes horses had been set up at either side, bristling with trousers, jackets and shirts, lined up and seemingly arranged by color. When she saw it all, D shot Marta a questioning look; just how long did the blonde expect her to spend doing all this?

'Yeah, maybe I went a little overboard...' She shrugged in reply. 'But it's not like this cost me anything. Most of this stuff's either mine, or my dad's anyway.'

'Your dad has this many dinner jackets?' D couldn't help but express a little skepticism. 'This is approaching redundant levels of formalwear, Marta.'

'My dad's a tailor,' Again, that nonchalant shrug, this time replete with a little, curved grin. 'He used to use me as a model for some of his stuff when I was a teen, since I'm smaller than him. I think he knew I liked it though, I mean, he did have mannequins for that. Cool guy, my dad. Anyway, I raided his back room a bit.'

'A bit, or did you have to use a truck? Look at all this stuff!'

'I'm sorry I have a commitment to overachieving, D!' Marta leapt into the room, spending a moment selecting an appropriate pile before grabbing the first item from it- a tight black undershirt- before holding it up in front of D. 'Besides, we want to get this right, no? You'll see what I mean, just step into my parlor...'

D opened her mouth to try and argue back, vaguely unwilling to spend her time doing this; it was a waste of time, after all. There was a pile of books and video games back at her own apartment that beckoned, their pull terribly hard to resist. However, that look in Marta's eyes was far too familiar; it was the sparkle that had resulted in so many long shopping trips, so many repeat rehearsals of songs she particularly liked, so many, many things that would never have happened if not for those mischievous puppy dog eyes.

There was no escaping that...

'So what costume is this, anyway?' D sighed, the verbal equivalent of throwing up her hands and surrendering. It had very suddenly occurred to her that she had not, in fact, selected a costume herself; Marta had taken the reins immediately, and D herself had been happy enough to go on autopilot there... until now. What form would a costume chosen by Marta take?

'Depends on if you want to play Easy Mode or Hard Mode,' Marta grinned, digging through a pile of ties. 'Could do you up as Sebastian Michaelis, but I dunno how many folks out and about will even know who he is, though on the plus side he's kinda girly looking to begin with...'

She gave a momentary look over her shoulder to gauge her friend's reaction to this suggestion, quickly drawing her conclusion from the expression on D's face.

'Okay, maybe not. Which leaves us with Hard Mode...' Marta shot a playful wink over her shoulder. 'What do you say? Wanna try bein' Tony Stark?'

'What, Iron Man?'

'No, Tony Stark, because Robert Downey Junior is kind of awesome,' Marta lilted. 'That and he's my favorite Avenger. Problems?'

'So, just to be clear, we're basing this entire costume on what you enjoy?' D asked, holding her hands up. Marta spun around, arms filled with clothes, nodding like a madwoman.

'Yes!' She exclaimed, bouncing over to her. 'You want to make me happy, don't you D?'

'Sure, but-'

'Good boy,' With a winning smile, Marta leaned up on the tips of her toes and kissed D gently on the forehead. Immediately, all of D's potential protestations evaporated from her mind; the kiss had sent a chill down her spine, but the words had ensured that that chill drilled right down through her hips. There was an odd kind of excitement in the way Marta treated her.

'So...' With that out of the way, Marta circled D, eyes sweeping her form. Not for the first time lately, she felt like prey being circled by a wolf. With the blonde behind her, she jumped when she felt a hand on her ass, 'Okay, so you're kinda packing something back here, which I love, but it'll need to be covered if you're going to pass... So you'll need a longer shirt, some larger pants than your size...'

For the better part of two hours Marta whirled around her, with an endless succession of clothes to try on and model for the bright-eyed blonde, though none ever seemed to be quite good enough. The tailor's daughter had turned out to be quite the perfectionist, and even the most niggling of errors were enough for Marta to send her back to the bedroom to change.

'Broader shoulders!' She'd exclaimed spontaneously at one point, practically hurling herself into a collection of jackets in an attempt to rectify the situation. But D's shoulders were just the start; if it wasn't that it was her arms, or her hair, or her hips. Marta came at D like she was a sculpture, working her out of the raw material of her flesh, lining up her body to accentuate some areas while drawing attention away from others. Time ticked by, until finally, the girl seemed to have some sequence of clothes that she found acceptable.

'There!' She said, stepping away and clasping her hands together, in silent victory. 'Go and put those on, and I'll see what I can do from there. Oh, and there's one more thing... here...'

D blinked, almost pulled away in surprise as Marta handed her something that must have been hidden below a neglected pile of clothes all this time; a pair of dark shorts with a hole at the crotch, through which protruded a fairly prominent flesh colored dildo.

'Something every man needs, and don't you argue with me on this point, D,' Marta's expression radiated challenge, demanding D's acquiescence. 'Now be a good boy some more, and try those on. I think we've got it just about down, now.'

D spent the first few minutes of her time alone puzzling over the fake cock that Marta had given her. It barely made sense; this was supposed to be a costume, right? What was the point of something that nobody- and D assured herself that nobody- would see? In fact, what was the point of this particular costume at all? Costumes are worn to be seen, clothing specifically designed to be projected outward but... what Marta had given her was too personal, too calibrated to a wavelength only D herself really knew. She held in her hands threads that spoke to the man that peeked out from behind her eyes, but how many people outside of her own head would even understand that such a man existed?

Nevertheless, disappointing Marta wasn't an option and so, with her silent contemplation over, D returned from the bedroom clad in a dark suit that felt just a little too big on her, with a tie pulled too tight and, down below, the strange weight of the strap on pressing against her thigh.

Marta spent a few moments fussing over her latest project before she let D see the mirror, readjusting the tie and cuffs, and even, terrifyingly, resetting the plastic cock through the fabric of D's trousers. With the status of D's new dick now assured, the blonde finally ushered her charge over to the full length dress mirror she had procured and leaned against a wall on the far side of her living room.

'There now, look at you!' She giggled.

Even then, D was only afforded a moment or two to look upon herself and see... someone else staring back at her. Marta really could work wonders, and-

'No no, still not quite right...' The reverie snapped before it could even really get going, as the insistent pressure of Marta's hands attached themselves to D's shoulders. 'But it's not the clothes, it's you, D. You look the part, but men exist in a particular way... It's how you hold yourself... Lower how you hold your weight, toward your feet, that's right. Shoulders limp, but you're going for broad, and hang your arms... Chin up, you're a man, aren't you?! And your eyes, but this is a hard one to get right away... Look out with confidence. Like you can see shit, without bothering yourself with if anyone's looking back. Observe like you're the top dog, don't worry about being observed back... There you are, almost right. Take a look.'

With those few alterations, it was amazing how much more depth the illusion had; D began to feel like a different person, not just look like one. She stared at her own reflection, fine lined and graceful, her curves almost entirely eliminated and replaced with straight edges. Oh, there was still a hint of womanhood here and there; her hips couldn't be denied completely, and the swell of her breasts had only been diminished by the tight binder and well cut dark blue jacket she wore but... it was better than she had ever achieved before. It was... right, or as close to it as D felt she could ever get.

With the clothes, the change in stance, and a rapidly approaching male gaze, finally the inside and the outside of her could achieve some level of synchronicity...

'You look the part,' With far more caution than D was used to from her, Marta's arms encircled her waist, the blonde's curvy body pressing against the facsimile of manhood that D had become. She could feel Marta's breasts against her back, soft lips on her neck as the blonde rose onto the tips of her toes... for a moment, D found herself wishing she could get an erection with that plastic dick down her pants.

'You're awful handsome like this, D. I like it...' Her voice was soft now, almost a whisper. With a light, grazing touch, she kissed D's cheek, tongue flicking. By their reflection in the mirror, D could see the want in her own eyes, quick and solid and desperate and masculine; she wanted to feel what it would be like to be inside Marta, to hear the girl moan as her insides stretched to accommodate the girth of her cock.

She wanted Marta to tell her just how much she wanted it...

'Thank you,' D whispered back, and not just for the compliment. This was all a little too much, too close to perfect... she heard the hitch in her voice all too clearly, felt the prickling in her eyes.

Come on... Real men don't cry...

'Hell, I'd do you...' But of course, Marta couldn't keep things serious for too long without causing herself internal damage, so she had to ruin the moment in its infancy, ripping a snort of laughter from D in the process.

'Well, that's good to know,' She chuckled, adjusting her belt and the waistband of her pants. That would all take some getting used to...

'Ain't it? Anyway, I'm quite proud of how this turned out! You lookin' good, D. If I do say so myself,' Marta nodded in approval, though when she did so she was looking into her own eyes in the mirror, negating the effect somewhat. 'Very much in the Halloween spirit.'

'I think perhaps you have a different idea of the spirit of Halloween to most people.'

'Transcending the mask, D,' Marta persisted. 'The one night of the year where who you are underneath isn't so big a deal. Where you can project the image you want outward, instead of the one you're stuck with. Good thing we've taken all the good stuff inside of you and put it outside then, huh?'

'You're making me think of that fog that turns people inside out...' D grinned, before remembering. 'Hey, you never told me what you're going as, anyway.'

'That's true,' Marta answered, winking as she waded through the now discarded and wrinkled pile of rejected clothes. 'You'll see. Why spoil the surprise?'


That day, Marta had sent D away with her new costume packed up in plastic sheathes, and strict instructions to keep it free of wrinkles, as pristine as possible before the big day itself. Even after nodding along and promising, swearing up and down that she wouldn't so much as touch the costume before Halloween itself, the temptation to try it on again was hard to ignore. There had been something about the way she had looked in the mirror, something... not transformative, but metamorphic.

In the past D had always figured her male self as something that she would need to shed her feminine self to fully embrace; sitting astride the binary like she was made her uncomfortable, it was only a natural conclusion to come to. One must be sacrificed to appease the other. But those clothes, that stance...

It wasn't the same...

In that one moment she had realized her male nature might not be as incompatible with her female body as she had thought. All the little touches and flourishes Marta had added to her, covering the parts that needed hiding, accentuating those that should be seen... it had made her better. The cock had been the perfect final touch, like a hood ornament for the new, manlier her; there was the potential there to be a far better man.

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byKurokami© 4 comments/ 49085 views/ 11 favorites

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