There were three older men in the lobby of the station waiting for me. They started clapping as soon as they saw me coming towards them, as if they recognized me from that picture that Jenna submitted, even though my makeup, outfit, and hair were all different in that picture. “Miss Beautiful,” one of the men said with a big smile. “And isn’t that title so fitting?” I wondered if he made that same stupid comment with every Miss Beautiful winner. “And I see you brought a friend for moral support. Going on TV can be nerve-racking, but I think you’ll do just fine.”
“Thank you for choosing me,” I said quietly. My voice was suddenly lost, as if I’d spent the whole morning screaming at the top of my lings. Or maybe it was just the large lump swelling in my throat.
“How could we not?” the man said. And I was shocked that my voice hadn’t given me away. Did it really sound that convincing? And was my look really that convincing? My heart skipped a beat and then I followed the men through a series of doors, to a studio where a whole team was waiting for me.
A man rushed over to me and attached a microphone transmitter to the back of my dress. He ran a long wire around, and clipped a microphone to the top of my dress, just a few inches below my chin. “Can you just slip that wire underneath your dress when you get a chance?” the man said. And even after walking around me and clipping things to me, he couldn’t seem to tell that I wasn’t really a woman. I was really pulling this off. Jenna and I weren’t the only ones who thought that I was truly convincing. A cold shudder ran through my whole body. So it was true: I really did look like a woman. I really did have the body of a woman—and I would have probably been better off had I been born a woman. I mean—I wasn’t exactly winning any Mister Handsome contests as my regular self. I never even got compliments when I was my regular self.
One of the older men came up to me and gave me a firm pat on the back. “You look stunning. You’re going to do great.”
“What exactly do I have to do?” I asked, my voice regaining a bit of volume and a bit of confidence.
He put his arm around me—a little bit too far around me, with the tips of his fingers on the side of my breast pads. He held me close. “All you have to do is look pretty and answer a few questions—it couldn’t be easier.” His fingers moved slightly, as if he was trying to feel my tits. I felt another cold shockwave run down my spine.
I was rushed over to a makeup girl who didn’t warn me before brushing powder onto my face. I coughed as some of that powder got into my lungs, and she didn’t apologize. Though she did say, “I love the way you did your eyeliner. You’ve got such pretty eyes.” And that comment took me by surprise. It was one thing to get a compliment from a man—but from a woman? That meant something. If I was convincing women that I was a chick, then I must have really looked like a chick.
The older man came back for me. He took me by the hand, holding a bit too tight for my comfort level, and then he brought me onto a little stage. Suddenly a bunch of lights came on and someone called out, “Going live in ten! Nine! Eight!” My heart stuttered and I felt goose bumps rising up on my arms. It was all happening so fast. I couldn’t process it all quickly enough. In a matter of seconds, everyone in the town would be staring at my face, all dolled up. And my parents were probably watching—would they recognize me? Would my best friends recognize me?
“And here she is!” the old man said to the camera. He no longer had his arm around me, as if he knew that would look bad on TV, as if he knew he was being a creep before. “I want to welcome this year’s Miss Beautiful to our studio.” He kept talking, but I zoned out. The lights were so bright and the thought of my parents watching on TV made me feel sick. I could feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. And then suddenly there was a microphone being held in front of my face. “Well, Tanya?”
“Well?” I repeated, hardly muttering.
“Do you have anyone you want to thank?”
I looked around at the crew. They were all staring at me, wide-eyed, waiting for my response. I felt cold. I could feel a breeze tickling my exposed skin—and I had a lot of exposed skin. That little dress hardly covered my torso and a few inches of my legs, and that was it. I opened my mouth but it took a few seconds for words to come out. “I want to thank my parents and my friend, Jenna,” I said.
And then he pulled that mic away and he kept talking. He started listing off all of the venues I would be appearing at over the next week. And I did my best to force a smile. Maybe I could lie and say that I wasn’t feeling well. Maybe I could just disappear, make my female persona vanish—my female persona who was apparently named Tanya.
That microphone was in my face again. “Well?” the man said. And again, I hadn’t heard the question.
“Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked.
“How do you want to make this town a better place?”
I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. “I want to make the town a better place by, uh, making it more accessible to everyone. I think we could do without that bike lane on 5th Street. I’ve only seen like two people use it since they put it in. An extra driving lane would help during rush hour traffic. And, uh, more garbage cans. I always have garbage but nowhere to put it. It’s no wonder there’s garbage all over the streets.”
My answer took the old man by surprise. He stood silently for a moment and then he said, “Well that’s very specific. But I’m sure the city is listening, so who knows what will happen. But for now, that wraps up our big introduction. I hope that everyone can make it out over the next week to meet the new and very gorgeous Miss Beautiful.”
I watched as the camera swung by on its tracks, and then I watched as the long microphone boom pole swung up into the air, away from the set. The crew suddenly dispersed and then Jenna was standing next to me. “You did great,” she said with a big smile. “And you looked so cute. I’m really proud of you.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt my face turning red. That was it? That was the whole TV appearance? It hadn’t been over for thirty seconds and I already couldn’t remember anything the man said or anything I said for that matter.
Jenna led me away from the set, towards an empty room, which surprisingly had a piece of paper with my name on the door. “What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s your change room.”
I had no idea I had a change room. Apparently Jenna had been paying more attention than me. And it was no surprise—this was her big experiment, not mine. I was just a pawn in her little game, going along with her crazy plan in hopes that it would get me some more action.
CHAPTER VII
She went straight to the makeup desk in the back corner of the room. She bent over and placed her hands down on the wooden surface, and then she looked back at me and said, “Fuck my little asshole.”
“W—What did you just say?” I said. And surprisingly, the words came out in my female voice.
“I said fuck my little asshole. I couldn’t stop touching myself when you were up there. I had to stand behind everyone, so no one would see that my hand was down the front of my skirt. My panties are soaking wet. I need you to fuck my asshole.” She swayed her bum in the air. Her legs and arms were trembling—she really wanted it. She really couldn’t help herself, as if the sight of me made her convulse with horny impulses.
I approached her cautiously, looking around to make sure there were no cameras hidden in the room. I still felt like she had some sort of master plan, and this wasn’t all just some way to fulfil her strange fetish. But more and more, it was starting to seem like the latter—it was starting to seem like this was all just so she could get off. I placed my hands on her hips and carefully pulled up her skirt, revealing her truly soaking wet panties. They were dark with moisture, and there was even a dribble running down her left leg, having escaped from its satin prison.
I tugged down her panties, revealing that plump and juicy pussy. But it wasn’t the pussy I was getting—she wanted it in the ass. I spread her cheeks and saw that her tight hole was
puckering and practically begging for me to stick my cock inside. I reached down and pressed my fingers against her wet snatch—touching a pussy for the first time in my life. It was warm and squishy. I pulled some of the slick moisture back, between her butt cheeks, using it to lubricate her tight hole. She moaned and her legs trembled even harder. I took a deep breath.
And then I had the urge to taste that tight hole. I sunk to my knees, spread her cheeks, and I got my tongue in deep, swirling it in circles, tasting the moisture from her pussy—and I even got a few good licks of her pussy while I was down there. It dawned on me that I was about to lose my virginity in a very strange way. The big mirror on the wall next to us didn’t help the strangeness of it all. I kept looking over and seeing myself on my knees, and it really looked like a scene straight out of a lesbian porno. Though I enjoyed the sight of my pretty face buried deep in her ass. I had my tongue in as deep as I could push it, exploring her anal walls while making her squirm. Warm juice was trickling down both of her legs now—some of it was saliva and some of it was natural lubricant from her pussy.
I used my hand to wipe some of it upwards, between her butt cheeks, so there would be no resistance once I was ready to put it in her. And I was rock hard and throbbing now—I’d never been more ready in my life. So I carefully stood up and slipped my cock out from my tight little panties. I pushed my tip between her cheeks and revelled in the beautiful moan that slipped off of Jenna’s lips. I was about to lose my virginity to Jenna Marvel, the girl of my dreams, the love of my life, and the psychotic girl with the strangest fetish.
I pushed my tip into her. It was tight but there wasn’t much resistance. I could feel her puckering along my shaft. I kept pushing in, deeper and deeper, feeling the warm walls of her tight anus. She didn’t stop me from sinking in as deep as my seven-inch cock could go. Once my pelvis was pressed against her perky tush, she started to sway, moaning and dripping. It felt nice—too nice. I knew I wouldn’t last long—a few pumps at most. But I had a feeling she only needed a few pumps. She was already on the verge of an orgasm. I reached around and started to rub her clit with my fingers, giving her a little bit extra for her efforts. She responded with some louder moaning. Now I was starting to worry that someone would hear us from the hallway. I didn’t need someone peeking in to see that Miss Beautiful had a big long cock that she was using to fuck a tight little woman.
I started to thrust. I watched as her anus hugged my cock. I watched as more fluid poured down her legs, as if a faucet had been left on inside of her. I rubbed her clit hard and fast, and it was only a few seconds later when that fluid started to spray forward, soaking that makeup desk. “Oh God,” she groaned as she continued to squirm. I held her in place by holding her hips—and I kept thrusting, harder and harder. I could already feel the tingle growing at the tip of my cock. I bit down on my tongue and clenched hard. I wanted to last longer than a minute—I couldn’t come already. Had it even been twenty seconds?
“Don’t stop!” Jenna screamed. I had to reach my wet hand over her lips, to muffle her screaming. She started to suck the pussy juice off of my fingers. Now that wetness was starting to run down my legs as it squirted and squished in every direction. “Oh God, don’t stop!”
But stopping was inevitable. I couldn’t hold on any longer, no matter how hard I tried. I sunk my fingernails into her skin and then I pushed my cock in deep on final time, spraying my hot cum deep inside of her asshole. She yelled and let her tits fall against the desk’s surface. I stumbled back and watched her tight hole puckering. It was red and stretched out, and a moment later there was a heavy glob of white pouring out of it. She looked back at me and smiled, and then she said, “We should start getting ready for the bar. You need to change—you can’t wear the same thing you wore on TV. C’mon, I’ve got a few options for you.” She pulled her wet panties up before my whole load had even dribbled out of her. Apparently she wanted to keep my load inside of her, or at least in her panties. She was a filthy whore, and I liked it that way.
CHAPTER VIII
We showed up intentionally late for my first bar appearance. It was Jenna’s idea to show up late, once the crowd already had a few drinks in them, so the volume would be a bit louder and people would be less likely to recognize me or notice that my voice wasn’t quite perfect. I checked my Facebook notifications and text messages before stepping into the bar, to make sure none of my friends had messaged to let me know they were onto me. I had no notifications—my identity was still safe.
The bar became quiet as soon as the initial crowd noticed my entrance. Someone shouted, “Here she is!” and then there was a roar of applause, as if I’d actually accomplished something. But being Miss Beautiful was no accomplishment, at least not for Miss Beautiful. Maybe it was an accomplishment for God—he put in the work to make Miss Beautiful pretty, but what did I do? I just put on a dress and some makeup and had my picture taken. The fact that I was beautiful was just a coincidence, and I still wasn’t sure if it was a happy coincidence or a sad one.
I waved to the crowd and found myself shocked by the smiling excitement. Was that excitement real? Was it for me? Or was it just the town playing along with Jenna’s joke. No, it had to be real. Jenna wasn’t some genius mastermind—she was just a horny girl who liked her boys in dresses. The excitement had to be real. The town must have been excited for me.
I was only in that bar for ten seconds before a reported lunged a microphone into my face. “How does it feel to be this year’s Miss Beautiful?” he asked, his voice booming over the crowd.
“It’s nice. I’m very happy to be representing my town,” I said. And the crowd cheered, as if my response was more than just a stock answer.
“Were you happy when you saw Mayor Robinson’s tweets about possibly changing the bike lane into a car lane?”
“I haven’t had a chance to look at any tweets,” I said. “But it sounds like good news.” The crowd cheered for me again, filling my heart with a strange and warm confidence. “While they’re at it, they should bring the monkey bars back to all the playgrounds. When I was a kid, I loved playing on the monkey bars. I was shocked when I heard they were taking them all out—apparently because some kids got hurt? Kids are going to get hurt on whatever you put out, so why not give them monkey bars?” Strangely, my rant received another loud cheer from the crowd. “And quit sinking money into those old ski jumps on the edge of town. What are those costing us? Two millions dollars a year or something crazy? Get rid of them. Use the money for something everyone can use—not just five or six people. If they really want their ski jumps so badly, they can do some fundraising.” And again I received some more cheering.
Then I was led into the bar. Someone handed me a drink and a small crowd quickly formed around me. People started introducing themselves, but the bar was so loud, all I could do was smile and nod and pretend like I could hear everything they said. I wasn’t even half finished my drink when another one ended up in my hand.
It was a strange sensation, feeling all of the gazes staring in my direction: hundreds of people looking over at me, watching my every move. And not one of them could tell that I wasn’t really a woman. I recognized a few faces in that crowd. I recognized the face of my cousin, and I recognized the faces of a few of my friends from high school.
And the volume kept rising as the lights dimmed more and more. My confidence was getting stronger and stronger with each passing minute, and with each passing drink. No empty drink was ever in my hand and I didn’t have to spend a dime. I was asked to dance by multiple men, and I awkwardly had to refuse all of them. The only relief I got was when Jenna grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the bathroom. We went into a stall and she lifted me up onto the toilet seat. “So no one sees your legs,” she whispered. And then she said nothing else as she reached under my skirt and pulled out my cock. She sucked it while standing upright. It took me a minute to find my balance on my tall heels while teetering on that tall toilet seat, bent over slig
htly so no one would see the top of my head.
Jenna had me rock hard in a matter of seconds. She sucked hard and bobbed her head fast. A couple of girls came into the bathroom, but Jenna didn’t stop. I overheard them talking. “They really did pick a pretty girl this year,” one of the girls said.
“Yeah, she’s pretty, but who is she? I’ve never heard of any Tanya.”
“Maybe she’s new to town.”
“Or maybe she’s not even from here. It’s not like they ask for proof of citizenship when you apply.”
“So you think she’s from another town?”
The girls took their conversation back outside. They sounded frustrated, but I didn’t care. I only cared that they both agreed that I was pretty—because I was pretty. I was gorgeous. I had the body of a super model and the face of a Hollywood actress. It was starting to seem like I was born to be a woman. And not to mention, as a woman, Jenna Marvel, the girl of my dreams, couldn’t keep her hands off of me. She wanted to suck my cock constantly. The sight of me made her panties dripping wet. How could I possibly believe that I wasn’t meant to be a woman?
Once Jenna got me off and swallowed my cum, we went back out and had a few more drinks with the locals. Then we went back to Jenna’s place and we slept together on her bed, cuddled together, with Jenna playing the role of the big spoon. It was nice, until I woke up in the morning and realized I had things to do as myself, as Todd. I was dreading putting on my male clothes and returning to my dull life, where I was hardly more than a ghost meandering the streets alone. I didn’t want to stop being Tanya. I didn’t want to take off my panties or my makeup or my wig.
Big Hard Girls Page 28
