The Fitting Room

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

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Marc had to get almost all his pants tailored. It was one of the downsides of being trans- his legs were too short and his hips too wide for any typical sized item to fit well on them. Thankfully, he was doing well financially and could afford to get them altered. He was waiting to do so now, standing in the dressing room of an unfamiliar store. Usually, Marc went to the same place for tailoring every time -- he didn't trust just anyone to see him in various states of undress, and having a tailor who was familiar with trans clients helped him feel more comfortable -- but now he found himself in a new town, at a store he had only researched with a quick google search. "This will be fine," he silently reassured himself, pulling the ill-fitting pants on and buttoning them at his waist.

Within a few minutes, another man parted the curtain and entered the dressing room with him. "Hi, Marc right?" the man asked, and Marc nodded. "I'm Anthony. Are these the pants you need tailored?"
"Yeah." Marc was surprised- Anthony was hot. He was wearing a well-fitting dress shirt which made it easy to see that he was muscular, but not overly bulky, underneath. His rolled sleeves showed just the edges of a tattoo on his right arm. Anthony's facial bones were defined, almost catlike, with slight stubble that lead into the gentle slope of his neck. He smelled like cologne.

"Did you have any specific alterations in mind?"

"Not really. If you could just hem them and taper the legs a little more that would be nice."

"Okay. I can work with that." Anthony crouched on the ground and began pinning up the bottom of the pant legs. He worked quickly on one leg and then the other, and Marc watched him in the mirror. He couldn't help noticing when Anthony licked his lips as he focused. Marc hadn't been eaten out in a long time, and imagining Anthony doing so was a great way to keep his mind occupied. He imagined Anthony's tongue between his folds and hoped he wasn't blushing at the thought, though he didn't dare look in the mirror to check.

Anthony moved now from the hem of the pants to the seam along the outside of his leg. His fingers pressed against Marc's leg as he worked his way up the leg of the pants. Marc felt Anthony's hand move to gently squeeze his ass when he reached the top of the seam, but maybe he was just imagining it. Anthony proceeded to the other leg, and Marc focused on the sensations of Anthony's movement on his skin. Then he felt it again, a hand confidently, almost nonchalantly massaging his ass. Marc looked in the mirror with wide eyes, but Anthony just seemed focused on his work.

He switched from pinning the fabric to marking it with chalk, and the feeling of the chalk running up his leg sent shivers down Marc's spine. Anthony did this to both legs, and then his hands were back again, and now both were rubbing Marc's ass. His fingers were strong, and he squeezed particularly aggressively a few times, eliciting a sharp breath from Marc but never giving any indication that this was something unusual. Marc didn't know why he wasn't stopping him. He definitely should have, but the force of his hands was almost hypnotizing. He was even a little disappointed when Anthony pulled his hands away.

"That's about all that needs to be done to the legs," Anthony said, straightening up. He was standing impossibly close to Marc, so close that Marc felt his hot breath on the back of his neck when Anthony said "Are you sure you don't want me to adjust the waist at all?" As he said this, Anthony's large hands pressed against the waist of Marc's pants and traced around the curve of his body to squeeze his hips. They then moved back to his front, massaging firmly down his thighs and back up again. "Or," Anthony's hand moved boldly to the crotch of Marc's pants, "We could adjust the rise." Anthony's hand pushed the fabric up and pressed flat against Marc's crotch. Marc gasped. He was definitely blushing now. "You don't need all this extra room here, do you?" Anthony met Marc's eyes in the mirror now with a daring smile, rubbing his crotch with a firm pressure and steady rhythm.

Marc was speechless. His eyes traveled from Anthony's fingers pressing decisively against him, to his own shocked expression in the mirror, and then to Anthony's eyes again. He stayed still, trapped in Anthony's gaze as Anthony moved even closer, his erection now brushing Marc's ass. Marc looked back down again, watching Anthony unbutton his pants and push them down to his knees. He was careful to avoid jabbing Marc with any of the pins running down the legs of the pants. Anthony rubbed his palm over Marc's crotch again, almost painfully slowly, then circled his clit over his underwear with one finger. Marc was breathing heavily now, and his skin flushed. He remembered that there was only a thin curtain separating them from the rest of the store, and the fear of being discovered somehow turned him on even more. Anthony planted a wet kiss on the back of Marc's neck, and his hips twitched ever so slightly in response. By this point, Marc was wet enough to have soaked through his boxer briefs and Anthony took great pleasure in pressing his fingers into the wet patch. He even reached under the fabric once, inserting a finger into Marc's vagina and bringing it to his lips to taste the wetness that coated it.

Anthony began grinding his hips slowly against Marc's, and Marc matched his rhythm. He knew this was wrong, but he was so caught up in the feeling of Anthony's body guiding him that he didn't even care anymore. Anthony pulled back for a moment, and Marc heard the sound of a zipper, then felt the clear imprint of Anthony's erection on his ass. His dick ground over the fabric of Marc's underwear, pressing against the wet patch and threatening entrance into Marc's vagina. Slowly, Anthony pulled down Marc's briefs, exposing a trimmed bush of wiry black pubic hair. Marc felt utterly exposed- he usually feared men seeing his vagina without warning, but Anthony's dick rubbing between his legs was enough to knock any coherent thoughts out of his mind.

Marc felt the head of Anthony's cock press against his hole, then brush past it. His clitoris, larger than average after years of hormone therapy, was swollen with arousal and he moved his hips subconsciously at the sensation of Anthony's cock running over it. The head met his vagina again, and Marc bent forward to allow its entry. He was tight, and Anthony pressed into him slowly. Marc's body flooded with pain and arousal at once until, as Anthony bottomed out inside of him, the latter overtook the former. His body was overtaken by pleasure. He couldn't hold back his moan when Anthony pulled his hips back and thrust harshly inside again, and Anthony quickly clamped his hand over Marc's mouth to prevent any further vocalizations. Marc could feel that Anthony's fingers were still slick from rubbing his pussy, and even darted his tongue out for a moment to taste the wetness.

The pace quickened from there, Anthony's hips thrusting his cock further into Marc with every stroke, often pausing to plunge particularly deep inside. Marc loved these moments, and was brought to a shuddering, constricted orgasm when Anthony pushed deeply inside of him several times in a row. Anthony's hand moved to Marc's hair, pulling his head up sharply so Marc could see himself in the mirror. He took in the sight of himself bent over, his skin flushed and sweating, his body rocking forward as Anthony pounded mercilessly into him. Marc met Anthony's eyes in the mirror again, and both were wrapped up in the look of arousal on the other's face. Anthony fucked him hard and fast, no longer concerned at the sound of his hips smacking against Marc's. Marc watched, awestruck, in the mirror, as Anthony built up a few more uneven strokes then pressed his full length inside of him. Marc felt his cock twitch inside, then a flood of warmth and wetness.

Oh god.

Marc hoped he couldn't get pregnant anymore on his dose of testosterone.

Anthony remained where he was for a moment, regaining his breath, then pulled his cock out of Marc's pussy. He watched his cum dribble out of Marc's vagina slowly, more being expelled with a wet noise as Marc straightened back up. They exchanged a slightly panicked look in the mirror, then broke eye contact with each other. "Well," Anthony pulled his pants back up, "I'll give you some privacy so you can change back into your other pants. You can leave the ones you want tailored in the dressing room and I'll get them when you leave."

"Oh. Okay." And with that, Anthony left, pulling the curtain shut behind him.

Marc changed back into his other pants, wiping Anthony's cum on the inside of his underwear and quickly driving home so he could take a shower. When he returned a few days later to pick up the tailored pants, he found a small note inside.

"Hope you're not pregnant," it read, and "Text me!" with a phone number. Marc held the note tightly, hoping no one else had seen it, and typed the number immediately into his contacts upon returning home. He would certainly consider the offer.