Feminized by Lesbians!: Feminization just because he was a man!

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It’s time for the party. My friend and I arrive through a gated entrance, and to a bar boasting a larger-than-life ice sculpture of a penis. I’m told to put my mouth at its tip before vodka is poured down – yes, really. Peter then smiled, and, keeping hold of my hand said, "You see, even doing this feels natural now; and to be honest, I think you look very pretty." Hey! I'm sorry! Mum, see how Peter is getting on, as I'd better explain what she, I mean he, has to do."

I text the one and only friend I know will be down to go a sex party with two days’ notice. She’s in. Downstairs is a sea of leather, fur and silver chains. Men start to flirt and my friend and I hit it off with two guys from a big investment firm (more successful networking than any of my LinkedIn opportunities). Alice Exodia is your small titty goth girlfriend from the French side of Canada. She’s been naughty, and quite liked it, so she’s continuing the trend, and showing you just how naughty she can really be. She points out that her wall is explicit, so you can expect to be hard right when you arrive. The car arrived at the church, and the driver opened the door and helped us out. A thrill ran through me as I stood smoothing the dress, which was wafting in the light breeze and gleaming in the sunshine. We held hands and moved towards the church steps past the watching crowd of friends and neighbours, blushing at the comments about what a sweet picture we made together. My father looked at me. "Well, I had thought that maybe if you did, that bike you had your eye on would make up for what you are doing for me and your mother."I’m watching How to Get Away with Murder, still working on my sex party dilemma. There’s nothing like the topic of death to bring up its antithesis – sex – and there’s nothing like boredom to make the mind wander in wild and mysterious ways. We waited at the gate smiling and thanking the guests as they arrived and complimented us on how pretty we looked; both of us now thoroughly enjoying the girls' roles that we were required to play, with the silent relief that we both felt somehow completely unashamed at trying to feel feminine. Five minutes later, our door opened and my dad came in. "How're you doing boys? I've come to ask you both a favour, and I won't blame you for refusing." I think parties like these mean you’re naturally operating outside of your comfort zone, and so I find myself saying yes. Put these shoes on and I think we can show the others what a pretty girl you are now; if that's the right thing to say."

Er, no, not really, but your sister thinks that if you wore the bridesmaids' dresses, it would be better, as you're not the smartest two I have ever seen, even if you have new suits."

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My aunt now saw me as well, and smiled. "Well, girls, let's get downstairs. Peter, you help her, I mean him, your cousin, with the train."