Open Question

She was a fraction, flowing down a line of numbers without end; split infinitesimally small, down to the last numeral. Defined as closely as she wanted to be.

One or zero, what did it matter? Right now, she was he. Later, that might change. Whatever, Marta seemed to like it...

The pair worked in tandem, and for once D felt the need to do more than allow her partner to dictate the pace; even as Marta bounced, rising and falling atop D's cock, the boi was driven to aid the rhythm, pushing up with her hips so hard it rattled the chains anchoring her to the foot of the bed. In the moment that they were together, before they split apart in preparation for the next thrust, Marta would gasp and D would groan, the latter's sound more masculine, voice shifting to deeper registers as she settled into her newfound role. D's hands settled on Marta's hips, fulfilling a subconscious desire to dictate the pace of their fucking; with a wink, Marta took the message on board and slowed herself to D's preferred speed.

But D's palms itched, and her eyes seemed to have developed their own male gaze, slipping from the blonde's eyes to her chest, enjoying the soft bounce of her breasts as she moved, breathing deeply. Suddenly, the itch in her palms had a target.

'Come here,' D grunted, thrusting in deeply, the sensation turning Marta pliable enough for D to pull her in close, curving her down so that they were face to face again. Now, the blonde's heaving chest was so tantalizingly close, 'You say you like my tits, Marta? I guess I'm a breast man too...'

And at that, D's fingers captured Marta's nipple, stroking that pink bud, squeezing it. When she tugged on it, everything slowed; Marta was trapped in position, inexorably attracted to D's touch, but unable to get the same range of movement from her current position. So she lay near flat against D, her back arched to allow the boi's hands enough room to touch her chest, rocking her hips back and forth in small, circular motions, sodden pussy hungrily enveloping D's cock over and over.

A part of D had wanted to make this more... rough. To blast apart the gender binary that had made her so uncomfortable in the past, but this... the positioning of Marta's hips as she moved rubbed the base of her cock right against the clit beneath it, sending pleasure rumbling through D's body. The sensation was addictive; it completed the picture, turned the strap on from prosthesis into something real. D found herself rising higher and higher, electricity climbing her spine as she considered the idea that she'd be cumming inside a woman for the first time...

'Hey D?' Marta's voice trembled when she spoke.

'Yeah?'

'I'm gonna- ooh... I'm gonna cum on your cock, boy...'

'Shit, Marta...' D panted. 'Fuckin' do it... Fuck me...'

The blonde added a degree of direct force to her downward thrusts, the muscles in her thighs and hips rippling with the effort of it. It only added to the pressure on D's clit, her juices leaking down her legs- no, not juices... precum...

The thought made D imagine the tip of her cock going off in Marta's pussy, filling her up with cum, marking her insides with the boi's seed... and the image set her off. Her pussy clenched down on nothing, but it went ignored; though her clit buzzed with pleasure, it was D's cock that twitched, the boi pushing into Marta as deeply as possible, tugging on her nipples tightly to keep the blonde anchored in place. Unable to move any further, Marta ground her pussy desperately on D's cock, a series of gasps arcing higher and higher, soft body trembling.

The moment seemed to freeze, in a place where nothing else mattered, and the body stopped being important for anything more than its pleasure. As she came, D was just D, on fire, falling apart, shaking, grunting deep in her throat. Her muscles were tight, as she felt Marta's back arch, her bust pressed into D's chest, breath fluttering in her throat. The blonde's orgasm was a delicious, feminine thing, her cheeks blooming red as she came all over D's cock. A shudder rippled through D as she felt Marta's wetness trail down the shaft of her cock to drip onto her bare skin.

D didn't know how long it went on for, or who started or finished first, but it hardly mattered. As she came down her hands left Marta's naughty bits, going to hold the blonde as her toes uncurled and her muscles unwound into a state of relaxation. They stayed like that for some undetermined amount of time that might as well have been eternity, completely oblivious to the demands of the day. There was no talking, no moving... nothing, but the lush aftershocks of pleasure that occurred whenever Marta moved with D's dick still inside her.

The boi knew instinctively that this feeling could never last. As enabling as Marta was, she would never be free of her dysphoria, not completely anyway. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Marta had been born without any such conflict within herself. Some people were lucky like that, but in the moment it didn't matter. What she had obtained today wouldn't fade, the triumph of now would remain etched in her, a memory indelibly linked to Marta.

'Hey Marta?' D said eventually, despite her unwillingness to really let the moment end. She shifted a little, under the blonde, 'I think I might have bruised my ankle in the... excitement.'

'Oh, right?' Marta blinked, grinning sheepishly and lifting herself up onto her hands. 'Do you want me to let you out, then?'

Only then did Marta lift herself up off of D's cock, and a moment later the boi could see what their enthusiastic fucking had done to the rubber; from tip to base the shaft glistened, coated in a sticky layer of Marta's arousal. It functioned as the perfect capper to a morning filled with discoveries.

'Sorry about the cuffs, D,' Marta said without turning around, as she worked to undo the chains on D's ankles. 'It was probably a pretty shitty thing to do, especially since you passed out...'

'No, it's okay. I had fun...' D smiled, arching her back to stretch her muscles. 'Thank you, Marta.'

'What, for fucking you? Believe me, I got mine on that deal.'

'Don't be frustrating,' D prodded her with her one free foot. 'Thank you for fucking me like I needed to be fucked. It was... you were...'

'I know,' Her task complete, Marta swung back around, draping herself over the bed beside D. She ran her hand over the peaks and valleys of the boi's body, eventually arriving at that sticky erection, 'You can keep this, if you want.'

'I really do,' The words slipped out before D had even given them a thought. She added, conscientiously, 'Are you sure?'

'It suits you better. Like your costume,' Marta sighed, bouncing up off of the bed suddenly. 'Speaking of, I'm betting you're still in a manly mood, studly. Let me dress you again!'

Unable to stop herself from grinning, D allowed Marta to drag her over to the closet, that full length mirror beside it promising so much, a world of possibilities that Marta's skill set could provide. The blonde practically disappeared headfirst into the rack of clothes, mumbling to herself in a voice that ranged in pitch from low to high, a new energy infusing it. Eventually, she returned, cocking an eyebrow; in the period of time Marta had spent with her back turned, D had retrieved the black hoodie the blonde had worn initially, donning it in a similar manner. She kept the zip undone, bare skin beneath it.

'You look good like that,' Marta winked. 'But as much as I absolutely hate myself for saying so, you should probably wear some pants. I got some nice ones, see?'

'Those are nice...' D nodded her approval, scooping them out of Marta's hands. Habitually, she turned around to put them on, showing off her ass to the blonde in the process; Marta stared, biting her lip, 'Have you considered maybe doing this for a living? You're kind of... awesome, at it.'

'I do do this for a living,' Marta giggled. 'I work with my dad, in his store. Don't give me that look, you never asked. I've had some experience dressing folk like you and I, boy.'

'Oh, so I didn't pop your tailoring cherry,' D said absently, taking the belt Marta proffered and looping it about her waist. 'I don't know how I feel about that. Disappointed, maybe. I thought I was special.'

'Well you know...' Though her back was turned, D could hear Marta shifting her weight from foot to foot on the hardwood floor. 'It doesn't have to be the only time...'

'You wanna be my tailor, huh?'

'Ah hell... you want to do something, D? Dinner, or something?' When Marta smiled next, it was a vaguely sheepish thing, as close to vulnerable as the blonde got. 'I didn't just do all this to fuck you, you know.'

'Should have known you'd have an ulterior motive,' The boi's heart skipped a beat. 'You want me as your-'

'Boyfriend, sure,' Marta completed the sentence, and from her it sounded like an affirmation, a sign of acceptance outside of a sexual context. As if D even needed to hear it.

'Or girlfriend,' D heard herself say in return, barely believing it. There were times when saying such things would have put her in a funk for hours, 'I feel like I could grow to like being fraction-curious. So long as you're there to back me up. I'd like to be an adorable genderqueer couple. With you.'

Marta blushed at the mere thought, and it was so endearing that D found herself being dragged in by sheer magnetism, forced to reach out and kiss her. It was different than before, it lacked the urgency or smothering closeness of their earlier, hormonally charged kiss... but gentle could be nice too. Marta pulled away first, with an impish smile.

'We would be pretty adorable, actually,' She said, keeping one hand on D's bare collarbone, as if addicted to the feel of the boi's warm skin. 'Just think of it: the cute blonde who dresses her boi up all dapper for fun... and the way you blush when you're in a suit you like... total twee overload.'

'What's wrong with twee?' D asked, recalling the relative adorableness of Marta's Adventure Time costume the night before.

'Good sir, trust me: nothing at all.'

The two of them spent the day together, and outside the apartment life went on. When D had been sent on a food run to the nearest fast food place, she saw how mutable the world really was; only a few vestiges of the night before remained. The people around her had shed their costumes and walked in the light of day as men and women, and only a few decorations remained in place. But the spell that Halloween had cast on her didn't fade.

All day long, D remained at home in her skin, untouched by the vagaries of the world she inhabited. She could no longer feel the eyes of every person comfortably ensconced in their binary, judging her from afar. Perhaps they still were, perhaps they never had been, but it didn't matter; she had been freed from all that.

Most people, she reflected, used Halloween to be something they aren't; for one night of the year they could be as promiscuously sexy as they liked, or funny, or anonymous. It was the costumes that did it, shells that they built up around themselves as a buffer from judgment and criticism. But D had lived her life wearing one mask or another, and Halloween had turned into the perfect opportunity to let her real self out.

And she had found that she quite liked being out like that. With Marta around, she would never be allowed to fall back into the old rhythm, to let herself be carried away on tides of expectation into a body image she wasn't satisfied with. The blonde would just push back, until she confronted whatever it was that was troubling her. Two queer widgets standing up to the gender binary alone.

From now on, every day would have a little of that Halloween magic.

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If you've made it all the way to the end, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, or have anything to say about it, please vote or comment; I appreciate all feedback, good or bad.