GIRLIFIED: 15 BOOKS MEGA BUNDLE

by Nikki Crescent

  CHAPTER X

  I had no idea what time she was arriving on Wednesday, so I found myself lingering in my apartment, pacing back and forth, waiting for that buzzer to sound. She didn’t have my phone number or e-mail address, so she had no way of letting me know when she was planning to show up—so all I could do was wait. I knew she had school, so I figured she would swing by sometime after that—and throw in enough time to get dolled up, even though that wasn’t necessary now that I knew her true identity—though she still didn’t know that.

  It was around 4:00 PM when my buzzer finally went off. I’d already been up for nearly twelve hours, and my eyes were already starting to feel heavy from my restless day. I cautiously approached the two-way communication system and I pressed the button. “Hello?” I said.

  “Hey, it’s me. Let me up,” she said. And a shiver ran through my body. I’d spent the whole day mentally preparing for this meeting—hell, I’d spent the past three days mentally preparing for this meeting. But I wasn’t anywhere near being mentally prepared. I held my finger over the button to unlock the front door, but I was too afraid to press it. I had to close my eyes and just lunge my finger forward—and even that took all of my willpower.

  I started pacing again. I still hadn’t decided if I was going to confront her, or if I was just going to ignore her—get her out of my apartment as quickly as possible so that I could start the process of forgetting about her and the amazing blowjob she gave me. But I knew that sending her away wouldn’t necessarily make her stop coming around, unless I explicitly told her to stop coming around. The girl had a will of her own, and it was a strong one.

  But I couldn’t just not say anything—I couldn’t just accept that she was actually a boy under those clothes and that makeup. I couldn’t just allow myself to photograph her again and again. I had to have some morals—I needed to draw a line somewhere.

  She knocked at my door, making my heart skip a beat. And then a moment later, my door opened and she skipped into my apartment. My heart skipped another beat and my legs trembled. Was she really so comfortable with me that she had no qualms letting herself into my apartment? It was as if she had declared herself as my girlfriend—but even every girlfriend I’d ever had would wait for some form of approval before letting themselves in.

  “Hey there,” she said with excitement in her voice. “How’d the photos turn out?”

  It took me a moment to break free from my rigidity. I managed to force a smile. “Good,” I said. I watched her as she let herself into my kitchen, to pour herself a glass of water. I realized I was looking at her for the first time as a man—at least I was trying to. I looked closely at her throat. She was wearing a choker necklace, making it hard to spot an Adam’s apple. But her shoulders didn’t appear to be too broad, and she had hips to die for—and men don’t generally have wide hips. Her ass was perky and round, but I suppose that didn’t mean anything. Any slender man with a gym membership can have an ass like that.

  But then there was her chest—her almost non-existent chest. And her feet did appear to be slightly bigger than they should have been for her size… Or maybe that was just me trying to see something that wasn’t there. Maybe I had her all wrong—maybe she wasn’t actually Karl Stanley. Maybe Karl was her cousin, hence the similarities. Or maybe the similarities were all just in my head.

  I walked over to her and handed her the thumb drive filled with her pictures. “Here you go. It was a pleasure doing business with you,” I said.

  She shook her head and laughed. “You aren’t going to show me the photos?” she asked.

  “You can look at them whenever,” I said.

  “I want to see them now. You’ve got a computer, right?”

  I slowly nodded and forced another smile. Even standing a few feet away from her, I still couldn’t see the boy behind the makeup. I could still only see Kat and her stunning eyes and cute nose and soft features. And it didn’t help that I could now smell her intoxicating perfume. “Um, okay, sure. Follow me.” I brought her over to my office and I booted up my computer. I sat down in my office chain, and then she leaned over behind me, resting her chest right near my head on the back of my seat.

  “I can’t wait,” she said, leaning her head in close. I could feel the heat radiating off of her body.

  “I hope you like them,” I said. My heart was pounding. I was worried my computer would turn on and all of those blowjob photos would be on the screen—I’d looked at them earlier in the day, but I was fairly sure that I’d closed them all before closing my computer. Thankfully, they weren’t on the screen, but I had to navigate around them to bring up the selection of photos I’d picked for Kat. She leaned over my chair with glowing eyes.

  “That’s me?” she said with a glimmer of a smile.

  “That’s you,” I said as I flicked through the photos. Every single one excited her. And I have to admit, it was nice seeing someone so excited about my work. She was hardly blinking and her lips were parted with awe. I had an impressed client on my hand, but there was still a gigantic elephant in the room—there was still a biological male leaning over my body.

  “And that’s it,” I said, closing everything down.

  “Wait—what about those other shots?” she said.

  “Other shots?” I asked.

  “You know the ones,” she said with a slight grin.

  My heart surged around in my chest. “Oh—those aren’t for you,” I said, forcing a smile. I still wasn’t 100% certain if I was being sucked by a male or a female in those photos.

  “I get it—keeping the good ones for yourself. Well I can’t wait to shoot again on Saturday,” she said.

  “Oh, Saturday,” I said. I tried to think of a quick excuse. Why hadn’t I thought of an excuse before? I had all day to think of an excuse! “I’m, uh, busy on Saturday. So that won’t work for me.”

  “Okay, then Sunday,” she said.

  “Weekends don’t quite work for me.” I looked back at her and saw the disappointment seeping into her face as she realized that she was being rejected.

  “Evenings?” she asked without much hope in her voice.

  But I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t see her broken like that. Even if she was a male, I couldn’t stand to see her so disappointed. “Actually, my thing doesn’t start until the afternoon on Saturday, if you wanted to come by in the morning.” And then I watched as life returned to her face. She stood up straight and smiled and her eyes glistened.

  “Saturday morning is perfect for me,” she said.

  “Anything in particular you want to add to your portfolio?” I asked.

  And then I watched as her cheeks turned a shade of red. “Well, I was thinking that maybe we could do a bit of boudoir.”

  I felt my own cheeks turning a shade of red. “Um, okay, sure,” I said. I’d done boudoir shoots a couple of times before, but never with a beautiful woman—and never with a woman who was very likely actually a man. I managed to force one last smile, which was enough to see her to my apartment door. “I’ll see you on Saturday, Kat,” I said.

  “See you, Johnny Boy!” She skipped down the hall towards the elevator, leaving me with a pounding heart and a churning stomach.

  CHAPTER XI

  My crisis only worsened as Saturday approached. I found myself looking at those photos again, and looking at Karl’s Facebook profile. I was sure that it was her—I could see her in every single one of his photos. But I didn’t want it to be true. I wanted to think that I’d received a blowjob from a biological woman—and I wanted to think that I had a massive crush on a biological woman. But the photos weren’t lying to me: Karl was Kat. Karl even had a few photos where his hair wasn’t lied up in a bun—and those photos were truly damning.

  It was Friday evening when I got a call from someone who found one of my ads around town. They ran a professional photographer hiring website, and they wanted to invite me to create a profile. It was a nice distraction from my pestering thoughts of Kat, so I s
pent most of that evening creating my profile (once I was finished setting my bedroom up as a boudoir photography space). But the distraction was short lived—as soon as the website asked me to upload ten of my best photos, I could only think of my photos of Kat.

  I ended up using three different photos of Kat for my portfolio. I felt nervous as I went to press submit—scared some client would see the photos and know that she was actually a man (and see what I apparently couldn’t see). But the fact of the matter was: they were some of the best photos I’d ever taken in my life. Kat was a joy to shoot. I felt so free with the camera when she was with me.

  I hardly slept at all on Friday night. I managed to squeeze a couple of hours in before Kat buzzed my apartment. I unlocked the front door and then I went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. I was going to need lots of coffee to get through a whole morning with Kat—the ten minutes she spent in my apartment a few days before were hard enough.

  She showed up wearing a sweater and a pair of sweatpants, which surprised me. She was always wearing tiny, tight outfits—but not today. She had a bag with her, which I assumed was her boudoir outfit—probably too racy to be worn out on the streets. “How’s it going?” I asked.

  It took her a moment to smile, but her smile didn’t seem genuine. Her face was strangely pale and her eyes were heavy, as if she hadn’t slept much. “Good,” she said without any enthusiasm at all.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  And it took a moment for her to shake her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, forcing an awkward smile. But something was obviously wrong.

  “If you’re too tired, we can do this shoot another day,” I said.

  “No, I want to do the shoot. Though would it be possible if I paid you another day? I don’t really have the money I told you I would have,” she said.

  “Um, yeah, sure,” I said. I’d spent the past few days trying to convince myself to see through her makeup, to finally see her for the man that she was, so I could cast her away from my thoughts and move on with my life. I wanted to hate her—I wanted to be repulsed by her. But now, as she stood in front of me looking broken and sad, I only wanted to help her. I wanted to hold her and protect her from whatever had hurt her. And I couldn’t bring myself to care that there was a man under that makeup and that sweater and those sweatpants.

  I brought her to the bedroom and showed her the set up. I already had lights and reflectors set up, and my camera was assembled and ready on the dresser. “We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

  She smiled and then she went towards the bathroom without saying anything. I took a seat on the edge of my bed and waited. My heart was aching. I felt miserable and helpless, knowing there was something wrong, but I couldn’t do anything about it. “How’s it going in there?” I called out.

  “Almost done,” she said. She usually didn’t take this long. She usually got changed with speed and excitement. But now she was moving slowly and without enthusiasm. She emerged from the bathroom slowly, with an arm across her chest to hide her flat chest—as if she suddenly cared. She was wearing a nude one-piece romper. It was semi-transparent in many spots, but not the one spot that mattered: between her legs. I could see the bulge, but the bulge wasn’t enough to make a decision. It could have just been a big pussy. She looked beautiful, even with her sulking demeanour.

  I told her to get up on the bed. I was surprised when she didn’t immediately strike a pose. She got up onto her knees and asked, “What would you like me to do?”

  “Just be yourself,” I said.

  But she didn’t move. She just stared at me, as if that wasn’t enough direction.

  “Why don’t we try putting both hands behind your head—and push your chest out.” She followed the command, but her pose was still lacking interest. She looked stiff and she didn’t have that cute smile. Her eyes were lost. Something was terribly wrong, and I just couldn’t take it any longer. “What’s wrong?” I asked again.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “Something’s wrong, and I’m not going to take a single photo until you tell me.” I put my camera down. My heart was pounding. I felt so angry, but it took me a moment to figure out whom I was angry at: a complete stranger—someone who possibly didn’t even exist. I was angry with the person who had hurt my sweet Kat, but as far as I knew, there was no person.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

  “Look—I know that your real name isn’t Kat. I know who you are,” I said.

  I watched her face become increasingly pale. Her eyes filled with fear. “You’re wrong,” she said.

  “No I’m not—Your name is Karl Stanley. You came in to get your picture two hours before you came in as Kat. And I don’t care—I just want to know what’s wrong. What happened to you?”

  Kat suddenly looked small and scared. She recoiled slightly and looked away, unable to look me in the eyes. “I got kicked out,” she said finally, after a long silence.

  “Kicked out of what? Of school?”

  “I got kicked out of the house. My dad found the pictures you took. I had them under my mattress. I should have known he would look under there.”

  My gut turned. So I was right—Kat really was Karl. I really had gotten a blowjob from a man. But why did I not care? Why was I suddenly not able to bring myself to feel disgusted or betrayed? Why did I still feel so bad for her, even though I knew she wasn’t really a girl? And why did I still think of her as a girl, even though I knew better? I just wanted to help her.

  CHAPTER XII

  I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. I bit down on the edge of my tongue, and then I said, “You can stay here.”

  She stared at me with wide eyes, in a complete state of disbelief. She was silent for a moment. “I couldn’t do that to you,” she said, looking back down at her bed.

  “Do what to me? The bed’s comfortable, and so is the pull-out in the living room.”

  “I lied to you,” she said.

  “So what? I don’t blame you. The world is filled with people like your dad—people who just don’t get it. And to be honest, I’m not sure I really get it, but I’ve seen you enough to know that you aren’t just some guy in disguise. You aren’t just playing a character for fun. You seem so free and lively when you’re dolled up. I don’t know you as Karl—I only met Karl briefly the other day, and I don’t even remember that meeting—but I remember meeting Kat. I remember how much fun you had shooting out in the alley. I remember how excited you were to see pictures of yourself.”

  Finally, she looked up at me. Her eyes were wet and glowing. “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what I’m saying, to be honest. When I found out that you were actually a guy, I was put off—I’m not going to lie. But when you’re here, as Kat—as yourself—it seems preposterous to me to think of you as anything but a woman. You’re a woman. So you’ve got something different between your legs—so what? That’s no one’s business but your own, and the people you choose to be with intimately. People like your dad exist—maybe they will come around eventually, or maybe they won’t. All you can do is be yourself and live your life the way you want to live it, and I guess just hope for the best.”

  She smiled, and I couldn’t believe that the words had actually come out from my mouth. Where did they come from? Did I just project my own thoughts out into the real world? It took me a moment to gather my composure and relax my pounding heart. “Just do your thing, and I think most people will come around.”

  Her smile was big now—the smile I was familiar with. She raised her hands up and slipped them behind her head. She stood up straight on her knees and said, “Well aren’t you going to snap some photos?”

  I lifted up my camera, my heart pounding with excitement. I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt free and relaxed and strangely happy, even though I knew that I was snapping photos of a boy in drag. It didn’t seem to matt
er. I had Kat—I didn’t have Karl or any other guy. I just had Kat, and Kat was beautiful—she was my dream girl.

  We snapped photos for the next few hours, changing outfits every couple hundred shots. She had a whole bag full of lingerie. And each outfit was a bit more scandalous than the one before it. It was the pair of red panties with the hole in the crotch that finally made me put down my camera. The hole was pushed back and lined up perfectly with her tight asshole. I got up onto the bed and I pushed her down onto her back. I lifted up her legs and spread them out to her sides. And then I looked down and could see the bulge of her package. She was erect, being tediously held in by that thin strip of red lace. I reached down and pulled that strip aside, enough for her erection to spring out and slap against her abdomen. She was surprisingly big—considering she was able to keep herself concealed for so long. I slipped my fingers around her girth and I gently stroked her length.

  She was smiling with crimson cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and moaned slightly as I pulled her foreskin back to expose her bulbous tip. She liked the feeling of my fingers exploring her shaft. I quickly undressed myself, revealing my own throbbing erection. As soon as she saw it, she had to suck it. We traded places as I let my head sink into my pillow as her tongue explored my shaft. Somehow I managed to get harder inside of her mouth. She sucked with a smile on her face.

  “That feels good,” I moaned.

  She puckered her lips around my tip and circled the tip of her tongue around the hole on the tip of my cock. It felt amazing. I was worried for a moment that I would cum prematurely. I could feel a warm tingling growing in my cock. But I wanted to save my climax for her pretty butthole. So I pulled back and I rolled over. I pushed her down onto my bed, on her stomach, and then I mounted her. I pressed my cock into her asshole. She was tight but I slid in easily—she probably had lots of dildo practise before me. I sunk in deep and I started pumping her tush without restraint.

  She moaned and groaned and clutched the bed sheets tightly. I could feel her clenching but I didn’t stop. I was filled with sexual energy that needed to be released. I wanted to ravage her tiny butthole. I wanted to make her squeal—and she squealed.