Wistful Ch. 01

The sun glinted and dazzled off the river through the train window, and I blinked and took a break from looking at the green river valley sliding past. I had been lucky to find a seat in a mostly quiet cabin, with only a few people wandering through.

I glanced at my reflection in the window from the corner of my eye and a giddy tingly wave shot from the bottoms of my feet up my spine. I shivered as it reached the back of my neck and swirled to fill my whole body. This is gender euphoria, I marveled for the millionth time. This is what it feels like.

The reflection showed a dark-haired girl, wearing a black lace choker but dressed—somewhat incongruously—in a blazer, over a clingy graphic tee shirt. The soundtrack was wistful pixie dreamgirl Indy. My hands went up to my headphones, and I gave my best cute swoon, fluttering my eyelids so I could watch myself do it.

"Excuse me Miss?"

Blushing at being caught in the middle of making a kissy face at my own reflection, I peeked up through my bangs at the tall stranger. Fashionable tweed, salt and pepper hair, expressive eyes.

"Do you mind if I sit across from you?"

I opened my mouth, closed it again and then made a sort of permissive shrug. The man put down his shoulderbag and took out a book. I turned to watch both our reflections in the window. The quieter I was, the less people seemed to clock me as trans, so I usually let my friends do the talking.

At the thought of the swarm of friends I was leaving behind in the city, my insides tightened. I missed them already. Sitting together on the library steps in the sun, listening to music together on the floor of my girlfriend's room, going to the museum as a giggling pack in the winter. And, most of all, going to our dance classes together.

I knew I had lucked out. I'd been the only trans girl in the modern dance program at my school, and I knew I wouldn't have found the courage to get on hormones that early and come out there without the unconditional inclusion and support I'd gotten from my friends in the program. And then, after high school, we'd all applied and gotten in to the same college dance program. It had been a dream come true, even though I'd deferred a semester to get bottom surgery. I squirmed in my seat and flushed a bit, remembering how all my girlfriends crowded into the bathroom on my first day as a new dance student and clamored for me to show them my new pussy.

I was blushing beet red, leaning on the bathroom sink, facing the mirror. I had picked a pleated short skirt that showed off my legs and I was beginning to regret how accessible it made my coochie.

"Maddy," my friend Flora pleaded from over my shoulder, "you clearly don't understand how thirsty—I mean happy we are for you...to show us! We're literally dyingggg over here."

There was a chorus of agreement from the others.

"Maddy," she repeated, "I haven't looked forward so much to anything else in weeeeks. Maddy. Maddy. Maddy."

"What?" I muttered, my face hot. Flora had a flair for the dramatic. Big theater queen vibes. She could always get anything she wanted from me, eventually.

"Are you really going to leave us, lost and wandering, in this thick, thick pussyfog?"

"I-I don't know, what if someone comes in?" I protested weakly.

"What if someone comes in! You've got nothing to be ashamed of, girl! Rooftops exist for a--"

"Flora!" I sputtered.

"Okay, just kidding. My bestie Quinn is watching the door from out in the hall. We've got you fully covered, don't we girls?"

Cue: another storm of pleading and encouragement.

I turned to face them all and opened my mouth and—hesitated.

"Listen girls," Natalie pushed her way to the front of the pack. "I think I know exactly what kind of push little Madeline needs here."

Her eyes glinted with a light that usually meant trouble. I swallowed. Natalie and I had grown up in the same apartment building, and gone to the same dance classes since before either of us could remember (we had pictures). She was my oldest friend, and had always been my staunchest ally when it came to being included. She had always gone to bat hard for me when it came to my pronouns, interrupting and insisting (even with teachers) whenever people misgendered me, especially in the early, painfully awkward stages of my transition.

She also delighted in teasing me, bossing me around, finding ways to make me blush, and reminding me in ten thousand little ways that she was taller, stronger and smarter. The whole time I'd known her, for example, she was always finding excuses to jump on me and pin me to the ground. The truth was, I secretly loved it. It had been the first ever way I'd found to manage my dysphoria, my first enticing taste of gender affirmation. Or maybe my first hint that I was lesbian? Whatever it was, I'd always been a willing participant in the dynamic. It was our schtick, our thing and we both clearly enjoyed it—which was a source of endless hilarity to our friends. When they teased me for it, Natalie would smirk and my cheeks would heat and somehow it never went much farther than that.

Until it did.

Reflexively I tried to take a step back into the edge of the sink, but Natalie only folded her arms and cocked her head, looking at me.

"Maddy," she said matter-of-factly, "I know this is your first day of college, and we've all been here a semester already, and you're probably feeling overwhelmed right now, so I'm going to make this easy for you. Either leave all these girls disappointed and trying to peek up your skirt for the rest of the week..."

There were a few groans, some laughter and few catcalls. She paused for dramatic effect, a superior little smile playing over her lips.

"...Or give me your panties, right now."

My eyes widened at the bald command and my pulse begin to race. My body was already reacting to being ordered, even as I briefly considered just leaving. Why was she making this into a thing? She'd been visiting me throughout my recovery, and I knew she had already seen me naked countless times. But that universe, the universe in which I walked decisively past Natalie, through the group, and out the swinging door was a rapidly shrinking bubble in the rearview mirror.

Natalie watched me give an involuntary shiver. I could tell she already knew she had won, she was just enjoying watching me give in.

The room was still. Nobody moved, nobody breathed as every eye watched me reach down and hook my thumbs into my panties, slide smoothly them down my legs and step carefully out of them. I looked up to see Natalie holding out her hand expectantly. Her eyes locked with mine. My head raced. My hand balled my panties into a fist.

This didn't seem necessary, did it? What was the point of giving her my underwear? Was this one of her games to remind everyone that she had me wrapped around her finger? Or did she just want to embarrass me, pure and simple? I almost opened my mouth to say something, but the lick of cool air against my lower lips brought home to me just how turned on I was, and I just licked my lips nervously. The pulse of heat between my legs made the decision for me.

"Maddy." Natalie raised her eyebrows and made a come-hither motion.

I took a deep breath and felt my face get even hotter. My hand trembled a bit as I held out the scrunched-up lacy white panties I had just taken off...because she told me to, I thought, and shivered again.

She made a show of pocketing them, with a wicked smile at me. I squirmed. At this point we both knew I would do anything she told me to do. If she wanted to tease me by withholding my fricking underwear on my first day of college, she would, and I knew that she would never back down in front of a crowd if I tried to change her mind.

"Goood girl," she smirked, and my heart fluttered at the gender affirmation, while simultaneously the heat between my legs flared at being treated this way in front of everyone. I drew a shaky breath. Natalie knew every one of my buttons and how to push them in just the right combination. If I hadn't trusted her so completely, and had such deep history with these friends, I probably would be freaked out by all this, but I just felt excited and breathless.

"What a cute little skirt." Natalie arched an eyebrow. "Lift it."

Her seaglass-green eyes danced with mischief and challenge. I stared into them, entranced. My hands moved slowly, automatically to the edge of my skirt. As I lifted it, there was a chorus of cheers and gasps and oohs. I wanted to pull my gaze away from hers, but I couldn't. I stood there, blushing hotter and redder than I'd ever thought possible, looking ridiculous as I held the front of my skirt up above my waist and showed everyone my bare mound and light, curly fuzz. Natalie finally released my gaze and looked herself. I closed my eyes and tilted my head slightly back, praying my arousal wasn't visible to everyone.

"Now, now Maddy," I heard Natalie say slowly, and my eyes shot open. "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen, but it's not what we've been waiting patiently here for twenty minutes to see."

My breath caught.

"Lift your leg on that sink, and show us your cunt."

Oh.

Oh. My pussy clenched with arousal at the thought, even as my mind buckled at the humiliation.

I knew I was wet. If I did this, my lower lips were going to spread open and everyone would see my glistening arousal. Did Natalie know that? She had to. I'd been so, so happy that I could produce pussy juice after surgery that I hadn't been able to shut up about it. It came out of my urethra, not my actual vaginal canal, but why split hairs? When I was horny, I gushed more than most cis girls, and that was just awesome.

As she held my gaze with hers, Natalie turned her head and began whispering something in May's ear. I was hesitating too much already. If I had just done what she'd said at the beginning, I could have done it laughingly, coquettishly, teasingly. But now there was no way to pass this off as a joke anymore. If I did this, it would be fully seen as what it was: a drenched, exhibitionist slut getting off on being ordered around.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I reached one hand back towards the edge of the sink. Flushing brightly, I raised my courage and glanced up at the faces around me. All my friends were watching, wide-eyed, with bated breath. I saw Flora's excitement, Yara's raised eyebrows, Faith's entranced hunger, and Natalie's wolfish smile. Despite the heat in my face, looking around brought a new surge of courage. I shrugged, rolled my eyes, and raised my leg, bent at the knees to place my foot on the sink beside me, to a long collective "Ooooooo" as everyone released the breath they'd been holding. Flora burst out clapping. Yara gave a laconic, impressed nod.

I desperately wanted to look down, to see if my pussy actually looked the way it felt. But my mind and my skin were racing with hot tingles and I felt strangely reluctant to move. I swallowed loudly. Everyone crowded closer and crouched down to inspect my new pussy, making many little sounds of appreciation. Then:

"This, is a porn-star pussy," declared Yara.

"Oh my god, you're right! That's exactly what it is!"

"Totally."

"The surgeon was a cis guy, right?"

Yara looked up at me, "I mean, Maddy, don't get me wrong. I'm so jealous. This is the most symmetrical, neat, little cunt I've ever seen." She winked at me and I squirmed a little, cheeks burning.

"Maddy, honey, she's beautiful," Flora chimed in.

Hardly daring to relax, I watched Natalie's gaze flick from my pussy to my face and back. Oh god, was she going to—

"Hmm, Maddy, you seem a little...hot down here."

My heart was beating so hard. Natalie stood up and leaned in close to my ear. I could feel her breath on my skin. Her next words were soft enough that I hoped, momentarily, that nobody else heard them.

"Is it possible that, perhaps, you like being told what to do?"

My leg was up on the edge of the sink, my pussy split wide open in front of everyone's eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, in response, but my mind blanked and I merely made an audible panting sound. Natalie giggled at me, and I felt my pussy spasm in response.

"Wow," gasped Flora, "her pussy just pulsed. Damn, that was hot."

"Do it again, Natalie!"

My face was burning hotter than I thought was possible.

"Well?" Natalie said archly, "Answer me, you little slut."

I closed my eyes and mewed, my cunt clenching again as her words ripped through my core.

There was a low whistle and some more gasps from between my legs. I was so turned on. I tried to remind myself that if—and that was a big 'if'—I wanted to stop this, all I had to do was lower my leg and my skirt.

Instead, I nodded. I could feel Natalie's smug superiority radiating off her like warmth.

"Say it."

My knees weakened. "Yes, yes I like it," I panted. "I like being told what to do."

Faith leaned on the sink and stared hungrily at me, like a cat. "You guys," she whispered, "This is so fucking hot. What should we do with her?"

Flora stood up and grinned at me. "I wanna put a collar on her, and walk her around on a leash. She'd look so cute on a leash. How would you look on a leash, Maddy?"

My heart thudded faster. "Cute," I breathed.

Flora licked her lips and winked at me. "Good girl."

Yara stood as well and shrugged, glancing at her watch. "Well, it'll have to wait. We've all got rehearsal."

Natalie nodded for me to drop my leg and my skirt.

"C-can I have my panties back now?" I mumbled.

She smirked, and turned to a mirror next to me, making a show of checking her hair.

My eyes widened. "Oh, no, please, Natalie, you can't. Please, no, don't make me go to class without panties. Natalie, please, this skirt is so short, please."

The others had started to gather themselves to leave, but I could feel them pausing to watch. Natalie glanced at me, a familiar smile playing on her lips. I exhaled in relief. This was old, familiar ground, finally. She loved holding things over me, making me beg, and everyone here knew I secretly loved it too. She held out my balled-up panties, and I took them, grabbing her arm for support as I stood on one leg, then the other to slide them back up my legs. The other girls were in high bantering form.

"So is it an open secret that the doctors are just giving girls whatever pussy they saw on pornhub last night?"

"Oh my gawd, that just says so much about men."

"Mine's like a second-wave feminist's face, like just a bowl cut with a big mole on her lip or something."

"Same, tbh."

"Weird flex, but okay."

"All. Cunts. Are. Beautiful!"

"OMG."

"Wow. You did that."

"Good job."