What We Really Want Ch. 02

I stood rooted to the spot in front of the mirror. Before my eyes, my cum continued to drip down onto the counter, but I wasn't really seeing it.

"Okay!" Claire called back from the living room. "I'll be waiting!"

Images raced through my mind like a movie on fast-forward, most of them variants on the theme of Claire recoiling from me in horror. What the hell was I going to do? Could I really tell her about this? How could she not freak out if she knew? She'd be disgusted, she'd run away, she'd leave and never want anything to do with me again and...

I clenched my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. Stop it, I told myself. Claire would never do that. She loves you. You'll explain what happened, she'll understand. And it'll all be fixed before you know it.

Just like before, the fear stayed, but quieted. Feeling like I was repeating myself a lot this morning, I forced myself to breathe, to think. The part of me that still worried about how Claire would react to this pointed out that it would help to control how I broke it to her. I would have to be tactful, delicate—something I wasn't good at even at the best of times.

My eyes went to the cum splattered all over the mirror. That wouldn't do.

Quick as I could, I grabbed a big handful of toilet paper and started to wipe the gooey stuff off the glass. Luckily, it hadn't been there long, so the mirror wasn't smudged. As soon as the last of it was cleaned up, I lifted up the lid on the toilet, tossed the sodden paper in, and flushed it away. Problem one: solved.

Next, I'd want to put something on, so I could reveal the truth at the right time. Casting about, my gaze fell on the towel hanging off the shower door, which I grabbed and wrapped around myself. I was lucky; looking in the mirror, the bottom of the towel just barely reached down below the tip of my dick. As long as I didn't pop another boner (which seemed unlikely, thanks to my barely-suppressed panic), she wouldn't suspect a thing until I showed her.

Straightening up, I closed my eyes and took one more deep, slow breath. In and out. Everything's fine. You can do this.

I opened the bathroom door, and came face-to-face with the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Claire was...well. You know the type of gorgeous people write poetry about? Claire was the type that got epic sagas. Back when we met, she was basically the queen of our high school, the one with a circle of followers constantly hovering around her, ready to satisfy her every desire in hopes of getting her attention. She could've had anyone she wanted, and by some insane twist of karma, she chose me. She stood there in the bathroom doorway, her brief look of surprise as I opened the door quickly melting into a smile, and even then, rumpled and no doubt tired after a long flight, she still managed to look perfect.

She stood a good four inches taller than me, and where I was mostly pretty slim except for my tits, she was nothing but soft, succulent curves from head to toe; her own breasts were pillowy perfection, nearly as big as my head (though, in fairness, my head is a little small), and matched by an ass chairs dreamed about. Her silky, near-black hair framed her heart-shaped face in an elegant bob, one out-of-place strand falling down in front of hazel eyes that I knew from experience were as captivating when sparkling with joy as when radiating anger that could freeze water. Her white silk blouse was wrinkled and untucked from her pencil skirt on one side. The cracks in her all-business image, ones I knew she'd only show here in the safety of our apartment, grabbed at the big knot of emotion in my chest and pulled hard. At that moment, I had to fight not to throw myself into her arms and break down sobbing against her chest. She was here—my soul mate, my queen of winter whose heart would only melt for me—and seeing that smile on her face, it seemed certain that no matter what happened, she'd be by my side.

...In case you haven't noticed, I tend to wax overly poetic when I'm stressed.

I restrained myself from crying, barely, and stepped forward to give her a slightly more relaxed hug. As soon as I had my arms around her, I heard and felt her sigh with relief, and she returned my embrace, squeezing me tight. "Hey, sweetheart," she murmured. "I missed you." Hearing her speak like that pulled at the knot in my chest again. When I'd first met Claire, she'd talked like a robot—stilted and monotone, barely even using contractions. It had taken me a good few months to learn that her speech pattern was a coping mechanism for severe childhood trauma, instead of just the result of a stuffy aristocratic upbringing. It had taken her the entire time we'd been together, and constant practice, to get to the point she was at that day.

You idiot, Jill, said the voice in my head. You've been with her through all kinds of shit. You really think she's gonna push you away over some stupid drug testing accident?

My real voice caught in my throat. I kept a hold of her as I searched for it. "I-I missed you too, babe."

Claire didn't miss the hesitation—she knew me too well. She loosened the hug and pulled back to look me in the eye, her face falling. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. "Um...w-well..." Slow down. Breathe. "Okay, I...something happened...a-and I need to tell you about it...but I need you to promise me you won't freak out, okay?"

Claire's eyes went wide, and she gripped my shoulders like a vise. "Jill, what is it? What happened?"

I closed my eyes, unable to look at her. "Well, uh...you remember that thing I told you I was doing to pay for school? The drug testing thing?"

I heard her suck in a sharp breath. "Oh fuck, Jill, did something go wrong? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No!" I shook my head, still squeezing my eyes shut. "No, it's...well, I mean, maybe, but, like, not right this second, or...well..." Gently, I reached up to take her hands and lift them off my shoulders, stepping back. "Look, it's...I can show you, but promise you won't freak out, okay? Please?"

Claire slowly lowered her hands to her sides. I saw her make fists with them, then gradually let the tension out. She took a turn to close her eyes, breathing in, then out, obviously counting. Probably something her therapist had taught her. Finally, she looked back at me and nodded. "Okay. I'm calm. I promise. You can show me."

Unable to speak, I just nodded. The tears I'd held back pricked at the corners of my eyes.

Grabbing the bottom hem of the towel, I lifted it up and over my waist.

Claire gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth. For a good five seconds, both of us were silent, her staring, me standing there trembling.

"Oh..." she finally said. "Oh my..."

I nodded again, a whimper escaping my lips.

There were another solid five seconds of silence as Claire's mouth worked, trying to decide on what to say next. "How?"

"I don't know!" I sobbed, that one-word question somehow opening the floodgates and letting loose everything I'd held back. "It was there when I woke up! It must have been the new batch of pills, they got something wrong and made them do this!" Tears streamed down my cheeks as my knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, shoulders shaking; my hands lost their grip on the towel, and it fell back down, restoring to me a semblance of modesty. "And I don't know if they're gonna be able to fix it, or I'm gonna be stuck with this thing forever! I'll be a freak, I'll have to hide, everyone will hate me, and you won't love me anymore and you'll leave— "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Claire interrupted. "Hold on a minute." In two quick strides, she crossed the floor and knelt down in front of me, once more reaching out to grip my shoulders. "Jill, look at me," she said, in a voice that was clearly supposed to be everything-is-okay, but couldn't hide the shadow of I'm-going-to-destroy-someone's-life-for-making-this-happen. Even so, it got me to look. It was a good thing it did. Where I'd expected to see hesitation, or disgust, all I saw in her gaze was concern for me, and the desire for me to not be upset anymore.

"First," she said, still in the same voice, "in no way does this make me love you a single iota less. I don't believe you're capable of changing or being changed in any way that would make me stop loving you. So if you're afraid of me abandoning you because of this, you can stop being afraid of that right this second, because it's not going to happen. Understand?"

It took me a second, but I managed a nod.

"Second," Claire continued, "I am sure this doesn't have to be permanent. If the people who made those pills can do this, they can reverse it. And if they can't, we will find someone else who can. In any case, whether they can help us or not, by the time I'm done, no one involved in this project will ever work again. Even though I have no problem with you being this way, they made you cry. They won't get away with that."

She paused, waiting for me to respond. I nodded again. Part of me wanted to argue about her oath of vengeance, but I didn't have the energy. It would have to wait.

"And third," she went on, "if you're afraid of being called a freak...since when have you cared what anyone else thought of you? What happened to Jill the rebel? The woman who makes a habit of telling society to shove its norms up its favorite orifice?" A little of her anger seemed to bleed away, and she managed a bit of a smile. "Besides, I'd have thought you might be happy about this. You're always saying you think it'd be hot to have a dick."

"Well, yeah," I protested, "as a fantasy, but I didn't think it'd actually happen! Real people don't think girls with dicks are hot, they just think they're weird and gross!"

"I don't," Claire said, frowning in confusion. "And you don't. Who else's opinion really matters? Unless you were planning to cheat on me, no one else even has to know about this, right?"

That question actually surprised me enough to get a handle on my sobbing. I stared silently at Claire for a second, sniffling. "You...you really still want me like this?"

She shrugged. "Well, it'll be an adjustment, sure, but I don't see a problem with it. You know I like guys too. It's just swapping out one part for a different, equally good one, isn't it?"

I thought about that. If what she said was true—and if she said it, I believed it—was it really such a problem? She was right, after all. No one else even had to know I had a dick, until I could get rid of it.

"Plus," Claire continued, cutting into my thinking, "that 'girls with dicks are weird and gross' thing seems a little heartless, considering there are already girls with dicks. What about trans women? I know you wouldn't want to say that about them."

That hurt to admit, but she was right. It had been a careless remark. I hung my head, ashamed of myself. "Trans women get all kinds of shit, though," I muttered. "They get harassed and attacked and murdered. If people think I'm one, that could happen to me."

"And it couldn't have before?" Claire countered. "We're two openly pansexual women in a lesbian relationship. And in any case, there's never any guarantee those things won't happen to you anyway."

I couldn't help but chuckle ruefully at that—I wasn't sure if that sounded either exactly like her, or exactly like me. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Claire just sighed, and pulled me into another hug. "Jill, it's all going to be fine. We'll get this fixed. And until we do, I'll be with you every step of the way. I promise."

I wanted to keep arguing. I wanted to find some other way this could go wrong. But I couldn't. I was tired of being scared, tired of crying, and Claire was here to protect me. She was right; we'd find a way to fix this. I had to believe that.

All I could do was hug her back. "I love you."

She brushed her lips softly against my cheek. "I love you too." Releasing me, she took my hands and guided me to stand up. "So, you haven't called the university about this yet?"

I shook my head, wiping away the last of my tears. "I'd just gotten up when you came in."

"Okay," Claire said. "Do you want to do that now? I can stay with you if you want, but..." She gave an embarrassed grin. "Well, I haven't showered yet today, and I'm sure I smell like an airport."

With my panic under control again, I couldn't help but grin back. "Actually, I haven't had a shower either. Mind if I join you? We can clean up and have breakfast, and I can call them after that. It's not like I'll die if I wait a few minutes."

Claire chuckled. "You never need permission to shower with me. But yeah, that sounds good."

I nodded and made an "after you" gesture at the bathroom door, following Claire back in when she took my advice. The shower, standing in the far corner, was one of the apartment's most impressive features. It was one of those waterfall deals, with the showerhead right on the ceiling, and big enough that Claire and I could both stand inside easily and have plenty of room to move, which, of course, we regularly did. As Claire started to unbutton her blouse, flashing me a devilish smirk, I found myself suddenly wondering whether this had been a good idea after all—she'd said she didn't think my new dick was gross, but still, could I bring myself to get naked in front of her now? No matter what she said, the thought made my stomach twist with nerves.

I held off thinking about it by watching her undress, which was more than distraction enough. Claire looked great in the clothes she wore, but we'd both always agreed she looked best naked. Beneath her blouse and skirt, she had on black undies with little bits of lacy detail around the edges, the bra straining to contain her vast tracts of land. I was dimly aware of biting my lip as she reached back to unhook it, letting loose those perfect love pillows you could bury your face in, with their pretty pink nipples that were hard, I knew, from her excitement at me watching her. Her hands slid down to lower her panties, my eyes following them down the luscious, pale curves of her tummy and hips, and settling, inevitably, on her lovely slit, shaved bare like always.

Of course, I'd forgotten that with my new changes, my reaction would be a lot more obvious than usual.

As Claire straightened up from slipping off her panties, her eyes fell on my crotch, and she quirked an eyebrow. "Someone's excited."

I looked down and let out a startled meep, quickly spinning around; the front of my towel had been lifted up by my erection, putting it on full display. Behind me, I heard Claire laugh—not mockingly, but like when I did something she thought was cute. "Sweetie, it's fine," she said soothingly, wrapping her arms around me from behind. "You know I never mind you getting turned on, why would I now?"

I had to think for a second to remember how to talk—feeling her body against my back, the softness of her breasts, her hips against my ass, sent a shiver all through me and made my cock twitch hard against the fabric of my towel. "W-well, yeah," I stuttered, "but, like...with this thing..."

Claire's breath brushed my ear, followed by her lips; the room felt about twenty degrees hotter. "I told you," she murmured, "I don't mind it. You're still you. Just with a little extra."

I was trying to think of a comeback when I felt her release me, then the air hitting my skin as she undid my towel and let it fall to the floor. Gently, she took hold of my shoulders and spun me around to face her again. Her eyes wandered down my body, making me blush even harder than I already was, and settled on my erection. She bit her lip, which gave me all kinds of ideas. "Damn," she said. "You're big."

In spite of myself, I had to laugh. "I thought size didn't matter." This whole thing was crazy. Claire really still wanted me, even with a dick? I'd never even known she was into that. Still, though, the knowledge that my fears of her being disgusted were unfounded was definitely helping me feel better about this. Once more, I found my old fantasies coming to mind, all the things I'd imagined doing to Claire if I'd had a dick for one night.

Claire shrugged. "I guess it doesn't, but it doesn't hurt, either. Well, it does," she grinned, "but in a good way." That was no news to me. Claire loved toys of all shapes and sizes—we both did.

She looked down at it again, licking her lips. "Have you tested it yet? Do you know if you can cum with it?"

My face burned hotter, but I managed a smile, feeling my usual confidence start to return. "When I woke up, the sheets were wet. I still need to change them. And...yeah, I fapped once. Right before you came in."

"Of course you did," Claire said, laughing. "What else would you do first in this situation?" I half expected her to reach for me again, but instead, she stepped over to the shower door and slid it open, mimicking my "after you" gesture from before. I did as she suggested, finding the courage to sway my hips a little as I passed her, though I didn't look back to see how she reacted.

Closing the glass door behind us, Claire turned on the shower; we only had to wait a few seconds for it to be the perfect temperature. In a moment, we were both under the steamy flow, hair plastered to our scalps, hot water running down our skin. The shower did wonders; as the tension in my body relaxed, I felt my anxiety ebb with it. Maybe I'd been blowing this whole thing out of proportion. Maybe this really would just be a temporary problem, and everything would be okay.

Yeah, sure. I could believe that for a while.

I was returned to the present moment by Claire coming up behind me again. "Want me to wash your hair?" she said.

A smile crossed my face. "Please."

I heard her pop open the cap on the shampoo and squirt some of it onto her hand. A moment later, her fingers were running slowly through my wet hair, massaging my scalp, sending tingles down my spine; a sigh escaped my lips, drowned out by the sound of the falling water. She pressed herself against my back again as she rinsed the suds out, making no effort to be subtle about rubbing her tits against me. My cock throbbed hard, and I was sure my pussy would've been dripping down my legs again if the shower hadn't been washing it away.

Once my hair was done, she stepped back, but I only had a moment to be disappointed before I heard her pick up the body wash. This time, she didn't bother asking permission before starting to spread it over my shoulders. Claire always preferred to take charge when it came to sex, and I had absolutely no problem with that—though I was surprised she was warming up to my changes so quickly.

"I hate being away from you," she said behind me, her voice low and seductive. "I thought about you every night in the hotel when I made myself cum."

I couldn't suppress a giggle, though that voice was definitely getting to me. "Geez, babe, you were only gone for a week."

"Too long," she replied. Pressing against me again, she moved from my shoulders down to my tits. Her touch was expert, gentle but firm, squeezing and massaging and rubbing my nipples with her soapy fingertips. My mouth fell open in a moan as I leaned back against her; my dick was so hard it almost hurt.

"Fuck, babe..." I gasped.

"Hm?" she purred, nipping gently at my ear, drawing another moan. "Something wrong?" A pause, in which I assume she glanced down at my dick, and then she chuckled. "Wow. Didn't you say you just got off before I came in? And look at you, already ready to go again."

A part of me that wasn't hypnotized by arousal realized she had a point—I'd have expected this thing to need more time to recover.