Addicted to Womanhood 1

by Zoe Brown

  I threw the bunched up, cum-stained nightie away, dropping it into the garbage can beneath my sink and burying it under several empty containers of takeout food. The cleaning staff would be by sometime early on Monday to get the bag, I knew. I resolved to replace the nightie for Jade as quickly as possible, and to lie to her if she asked me where it was, to say that… hmm… perhaps it fell in the toilet while I was cleaning up, earlier? Or that I hadn’t been able to find it? I hoped she wouldn’t press me about it. I didn’t look forward to having to lie to the girl, but what else could I do? I couldn’t admit the truth – if I did, she’d see right through me. And then what would I do?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Timestamp: Saturday, Twenty-Fifth of August, 2018. Thirty-four days ago.

  Later that evening, when ‘Jade’ did finally return from her family gathering, I was both shocked and amazed to discover that the male alter ego of the slender, curvaceous feminine beauty that I’d been fucking on and off again for the better part of two weekends now really was every bit as big, powerfully-built, and macho-looking as she’d claimed: ‘Giuliano’ was totally in a league with men like Vin Diesel, Jason Statham, Henry Cavill, and Dave Bautista – I mean, the man was cut! He embodied the kind of paragonical masculine, male perfection that made even a man like me feel a little intimidated. But before I could even try to engage, uh… ‘him?’ in awkward conversation, ‘Giuliano’ cut me off, apologizing in a deep, rumbling basso voice for the weirdness, popped a little pink pill into his mouth, and then quickly returned to her much smaller, sexier, more delightful, and more feminine girlish figure, to the accompanying sounds of ever more feminine moans, whimpers, groans, and screams of delight.

  The transformation of butch, ultra-macho-masculine ‘Giuliano’ back into the soft, small, curvaceous and feminine ‘Jade’ was every bit as sexy and as stimulating to witness this time as it had been with Brianna, on each of the two times that I had been intimate with the hot, young gender-bending redhead. And just as in the story of Jade’s first transformation, the story that she’d shared with me previously, the much-smaller-and-curvier, but still-feminizing Jade and I became locked in a passionate embrace shortly after the womanly curves of her ample breasts, slender, narrow waist, full, firm ass and round, womanly hips blossomed back out upon her shifting figure, but several seconds before her still-male cock began transforming back into the womanhood that she would swiftly possess in its place. We just couldn’t keep our hands off of one another.

  And yet despite the arousing show that Jade put on there was one… mildly disquieting difference between my experience witnessing Jade transform, that Saturday night, and my previous experience with Brianna, two and a half weeks earlier. As I watched ‘Giuliano’s’ massive, hulking male body shrink and wriggle and shift and change into a much smaller, much lither, more feminine, and gradually more womanly form, I realized that arousal and stimulation were not the only things that I was feeling at that moment.

  There was pretty powerful bit of envy, too.

  We made love again, two – no, three more times before nine p.m., once backed firmly up against the entryway wall, once bent over the back of the couch, and once on the fancy recliner chair that I’d left sitting out on the balcony, before staggering back into my enormous shower together to actually bathe and to get ready for a fancy dinner out. Upon her return to the penthouse that evening, and to her female form again, I’d offered to take Jade anywhere in the city that evening, anywhere she could think of to go, and she’d seized upon the idea with some relish, so I listed a whole host of fine dining establishments and signature restaurants that I’d been to previously in the past and could happily recommend to her. But it turned out that Jade had an idea of her own that she’d been playing around with throughout the afternoon, waiting to surprise me. While we were lying together upon the recliner out on the balcony after our most recent sexual exertions, she mentioned to me that ever since becoming a woman she’d been itching to find someone who would take her to Jardinière, a romantic, intimately-lit French-slash-San Franciscan gourmet restaurant in Hayes Valley that she’d once read about in a magazine article and had been enchanted with ever since. It had been a bit outside of her and Theo’s price range when they’d been together, but she had a feeling that the big-ticket entrée items wouldn’t be any sort of obstacle for me. Would I please take her?

  Well of course I would! I’d never been there myself, and had no idea what to expect from the food or ambiance there, but I knew how to get a table at a last minutes’ notice in the city, so before I joined the dark-haired goddess in my shower I dropped a couple of quick tweets from my public Twitter account, and put up a similar post on my Instagram, tagging both the restaurant and the city and offering an ample gratuity – a thousand dollars – to anyone on the reservation list between 10:00 and 11:00 pm (table for two, as quiet and as intimate a setting as could be arranged) who would be willing to dine elsewhere for the evening, entirely at my expense. By the time I slipped back out of the shower some twelve minutes later, leaving a happily-humming Jade behind to rinse out her long, luxurious dark-chocolate hair, I already had a couple of bites at my offer, and it wasn’t very hard to arrange things after that.

  “Hey, have you seen my nightie?” Jade called out to me from the other side of the closed door to the bathroom, as she finished putting on the final touches of makeup for the evening and got ready to make her big outfit reveal for the evening. “I thought I left it on the countertop.”

  On other side of the door, I winced, tugging up my right sock for the evening and sliding the foot in question into the corresponding shoe. I braced myself. “I… had to throw it away.” The lie sounded much more awkward when I said it out loud than I’d imagined it sounding earlier, and I scrambled to come up with a reasonable rationale. Dropping it in the toilet was a stupid reason! “When we were going at it earlier this afternoon, I must have gotten some of my gunk on it. The back was all stained and sticky.” At least there was a little truth in that. That made it sound a little more plausible, I thought.

  Still, there was a weirdly extended pause from the other side of the door as I finished tying up my shoe. I gritted my teeth and tried to imagine that Jade was just taking her time getting… mascara right, or something.

  “Oh,” she said at length, a little low and a little dull. “Why didn’t you just dump it in the laundry?”

  “After getting my junk all over it,” I asked, pretending at mock-outrage. “Make you wear it again?? No, I’ll just buy you a new one.”

  Another pause. “Hmmm. Okay.” She sounded a little less than convinced.

  I shook my head and snarled at myself for the thoughtlessness with which I’d allowed myself to get lost in my erotic fantasies earlier in the day. I have to be more careful, I thought to myself, swearing under my breath as I moved around, grabbing up my sports jacket and throwing it on, I’m starting to let these fantasies get out of hand.

  I dressed to impress that evening, wearing a white undershirt and a slate-grey V-neck sweater under a jet-black, stylish sports jacket, along with matching trousers. But my classy look was utterly overshadowed by the sexy, tastefully elegant outfit that ‘Juliano’ had carried up to the penthouse in one of several garment bags when ‘Jade’ returned from pot-lucking with her family earlier in the afternoon. When Jade stepped out of the penthouse’s large, oversized luxury bathroom at a quarter ‘til ten, with her hair down in shimmering waves and half curls to the base of her bustline, her full, magnificent breasts, hourglass-slender waist, and ample hips perfectly displayed in a champagne-pink-sequin-maxi-dress with a plunging neckline that showed off a generous amount of her cleavage and the tops of her breasts, and with a slit up the left leg that rode almost-scandalously high up on her thigh, I nearly forgot to keep breathing.

  Unfortunately, it was another little stab of envy that reminded me.

  “Wow!” I laughed in amazement and surprise as I got to my feet and started forward, brushing out the bac
ks of my pants and slipping my smartphone into the inner breast jacket pocket of my coat. “You look… like a beautiful vision!” She had on a few tastefully-chosen pieces of silver jewelry – a pendant around her neck, a bracelet on her left wrist – and her makeup was both elegant and fetching.

  “Is it too much??” She asked me nervously, beaming with pleasure but still fussing with the fit of the dress around her wide, ample hips. “I haven’t exactly mastered the art of high-end fashion yet. Most of what I do at the bar is ‘find something sexy, and go with it.’”

  “No, it’s…” I shook my head at her in continued amazement, and burned with spiking envy beneath my grinning exterior. “You’re perfect, I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful date.” She flushed and ducked her head for a moment, biting her lower lip before she steadied her giddiness and grinned up at me again. I took her by the hand and twirled her delicately about on the tip-toes of the equally-elegant, strappy black heels she was wearing, getting a longer, fuller look at the whole outfit, and laughed again. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  Jade laughed with delight as I twirled her, reveling in her delicious beauty and femininity and womanhood, and in that moment I felt like I had never wanted anything more than I suddenly wanted to be her.

  ✽✽✽

  Dinner at Jardinière that evening turned out to be delightful. The rest of the evening’s events, though, were… somewhat less so.

  We made our purchased reservation slot on time and with several minutes left to spare, giving the name of the original reservation holders and briefly explaining the situation (and the real identity of the couple they were now serving in place of ‘the Whites,’) to an understanding hostess before the woman nodded and beckoned us to follow her into the intimately lit interior so that she could show us to our seats. We dined superbly, sharing a light appetizer together and sipping our wine while we waited for dinner to arrive, and enjoying the pleasant, easy conversation that flowed back and forth across the table between us. After sharing so much of her life story on our previous occasions together, Jade decided that it was only fair for me to share a bit of my own past this time, so I told her about growing up in the upper-middle-class New York neighborhood of my childhood. I told her about the modestly-successful father who first instilled a philosophy of masculine excellence and drive and competitiveness in me, the mother that I’d loved but had become increasingly unable to connect with as I grew older and more driven, more like my father, and the rough-and-tumble business school experiences that had prepared me for the career I had chosen. I shared with her my first, minor successes in the business world, and a few stumbling false starts, as well as how I landed my first major deal, the one that really made my career and started me off on a trajectory towards success that had never faltered.

  As I spoke, and while she listened, I could see some tiny calculations taking place behind Jade’s dark brown eyes, but she didn’t venture to mention them, asking me probing questions about my business deals and professional relationships instead. Her reservation stirred my own curiosity, and I wondered what it she was contemplating underneath the pleasant exterior that she was showing me, but I ultimately decided not to pry. It would either come up later on its own, I figured, or it wouldn’t matter.

  When I ran out of business affairs to share with Jade, I turned the topic towards the extreme-sports thrill-seeking pursuits and the playboy lifestyle that I was so widely notorious for, and I saw her eyes perk up with fresh interest at the change of subject. We talked a little bit about my various past adventures for a while, including, of course, the rocket-ship ride that left me stranded in low-orbit for forty-eight hours: “Ohhhh my god, that sounds so cooooooool,” she gushed at one point, stars in her eyes.

  “Yeah, it was,” I nodded, grinning back at her over our meals, which had only just arrived. “Especially once the cabin temperature started to drop below zero.”

  “How did you stay warm?!” She asked me, breathing in the delicious aromas wafting off of her plate with a flutter of eyebrows and a low purr of pleasure. Since this visit was a first for both of us, we’d agreed to each order separate entrees – Poussin for her (she hadn’t even known what the word meant when she saw it on the menu, and when she’d looked it up on her cellphone she’d gaped at me: “It’s a tiny chicken? I get to eat a whole tiny chicken!?”) and Mangalista Pork Roast for me – and share with one another. I offered her the first bite off of my plate.

  “Well, fortunately, I had a surplus of space blankets with me, and one of the internal cabin lights was this big, long orange strip that gave off a little bit of heat at low temperatures, so I curled up in a blanket cocoon around that light and just burritoed myself until the module finally started to re-enter the atmosphere.” Jade leaned forward, across the table towards my spoon (giving me a not-ungenerous glimpse of her bare breasts in that dress as she did so), closed her pretty mouth around my fork and moaned with pleasure as she sampled the Pork Roast.

  “You like it?” I surmised with a chuckle. She nodded her head with enthusiasm.

  “Oh yeah, that’s fucking amazing,” she whispered, eyes shining at me as she caught a glimpse of where my own eyes were lingering. “And by the way, I’m glad to know you’re enjoying the show…”

  “Are you kidding?” I scoffed at her, grinning and reaching across the table for a fork-full from her own plate, “I could binge-watch an entire marathon of this.”

  The conversation moved on to some of my other thrill-seeking pursuits. We didn’t linger too long on my experiences with street racing, which were decidedly much more in the category of ‘bored rich guy amateur’ than her own, although Jade was interested to know how street racing customs and legalities differed in other countries, such as Brazil, Australia, Romania, and Japan. She snorted and guffawed her way teasingly through an accounting of my thoroughly-disastrous stint as an underground street fighter, needing two whole minutes to cover her face with her napkin and take slow, calming sips of wine at one point – after I told her the story of my utterly-humiliating thirteen-second bout with Brazillian street-fighting legend Francisco Ruiz.

  “It really wasn’t that funny,” I chuckled, sneaking another bite off her plate as she hid, trembling and gasping for breath behind her napkin.

  “You knocked yourself out!!” Jade chortled and gasped for breath from behind her napkin, lowering it to just beneath her eyes and beaming at me. “Like, holy shit, bro—uh, um… fuck, I don’t even know what a lady would say in a situation like this. YOU KNOCKED YOURSELF OUT!” She giggled and ducked away again.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I rolled my eyes and grumbled, blushing and ducking away from the curious looks of the tables seated around us, “I remember! I was there.”

  Even more than my thrill-seeking tales, however, Jade really seemed to be interested in hearing all about my exploits with famous and beautiful women. As we were finishing up our entrees, putting in a desert order and having our wine glasses refilled for the second time that evening, she started asking me a series of questions about a number of the more high-profile romantic or sexual affairs that I’d conducted with beautiful and celebrated women from all across the world: a 90s supermodel, a pair of Bond Girls – “No, of course not at the same time,” – the lead designer behind the celebrated Catalonian Lingerie brand Dona Bella Violetta d’Cardona, the Princess of a small European country…

  And that was where the conversation turned, sadly, from easy and fun and relaxed and mutually-enjoyable, to something much more intense and unpleasant for both of us.

  “So, what did you do?” I ultimately asked her with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow, when one obscure name after another from my past was trundled out in front of me over our desert, “Did you look me up on Google? Research past headlines?” I was starting to get a little uncomfortable about the methodical way with which the woman sitting opposite of me was probing my past. It seemed like more than just the average amount of interest someone might have in a person that they were sleepin
g with on the regular. In fact, it was starting to feel like she was digging around for something, and that was starting to make me feel uncomfortable.

  Jade winced, caught, and semi-discreetly scooted her smartphone off of the edge of the table and into the little clutch purse she was holding in her lap. “Ohhhh… nooooo… I would… never…”

  I shook my head and chuckled, dabbing at my lips with my napkin and then forking up another bite of the scrumptious Dark Chocolate Crunch desert in front of me. “What are you really after?” I asked.

  A moment later, I realized that putting the question to her so directly had been a mistake. I saw that in the way that Jade screwed up her face on one side as she spooned up a bite of her own Dark Chocolate Crunch desert opposite me. It took her a moment to answer. “I’m just… solving the puzzle. Putting the pieces together.” She frowned a little bit as she swallowed the morsel, her face falling, and she dropped her eyes towards her plate. “Hoping that I might be wrong.”

  That little black cloud that had been lurking on my mental horizons since the night before burst across my mental horizons like a thundercloud at her expression, and I felt my own heart starting to sink. “What? Oh, you mean about me, and the…” Neither of us needed me to finish that sentence.

  Jade lifted her face back up and smiled wanly at me. “You’re really sweet, and nice, and charming, and handsome. I don’t have to hide what I am from you, and you don’t treat me any less like a woman just because you know how I grew up. I really like talking to you, and …you’re fucking stellar in the sack.” She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, and we both blushed. “But… what’s so special about me? Why not…” She snatched her phone back up out of her purse and showed me the article most recently loaded on her screen, “‘Violetta Cardona?’”