by Tina Majors
I was happy about this as I had heard that the mall had a terrible problem with people carrying snow in with them on their boots, wiping at the entrance, thus causing a lot of sludge-like melted snow at the entrance, and who needed that? Not me. I did like the snow, but what I hated were the inconvenient side effects of it, particularly when it melted.
Back home, I had noticed that snow was only ever fun for two days maximum and as soon as the temperature increased or the rain began to fall, the snow turned into this awful grey slop substance that was no fun, and had a habit of ruining shoes and wetting socks to the core. I walked for approximately three minutes and realised that one of my laces had come undone.
What a pain in the butt (ironically, given what had happened last night as I experimented with a dildo I had found in the chalet) but I knew it would be foolish to continue walking and risk tripping over.
I bent down to tie up the laces and suddenly felt a pelt, first one then two then three, of tightly packed snow hit me. I looked up and took another hard blast in the face. What the hell, I thought. I opened my eyes and saw a small open topped four by four truck driving away, packed with your classic rad boarder dude jocks, whooping and hollering as they pelted innocent walkers with their snow balls.
I was, of course, annoyed.
For a start, the snow on my jacket would be fine, I wasn’t complaining about that, but it was the principal of the matter. It was the blast of white stuff to the face that got me. How dare they! For the rest of the walk to the strip of shops I contemplated how I could take my revenge, but knew it was futile as they were long gone, probably already racking up the bottles of Bud and racks of shots in some bar, no doubt rowdily talking about the exploits from the previous night and what they had in store for the up coming evening.
I looked up at the sky and saw a large bird fly over me. I wondered whether it was an eagle and made a point of thinking I should google it later. Anything to keep my mind occupied and stop it from swirling with the possibilities of what else could be in store for me on this holiday.
I walked into the first shop, a medium sized general supermarket that stocked everything you would expect it to: cereals, packet meals, tinned good, and of course – plenty of alcohol. I walked round the aisles and picked up the items on the list, you know the kind, generic staples and some classics like toothpaste and a new bar of soap, the kind of thing that often gets missed out when packing for a holiday in a hurry.
The shop was pretty busy, there must have been a lot of people who had also recently arrived and were making the similar journey to picking up lost or forgotten items, staples that weren’t exactly life or death so to speak but were pretty essential all the same.
A shop assistant was stacking up a display of boxed chocolate, the kind of selection box where the differently shaped and flavoured chocolates were put together to provide a mix of vaguely connected but different flavours. Suddenly the display, which to me instantly seemed perilously highly stacked, collapsed in a heap.
The shop assistant looked a mixture of exasperated, embarrassed, and a little annoyed. It crossed my mind that I should go over and over some assistance, after all we’ve all been in that place before haven’t we? And it is good to help.
For some reason though, I was conscious that I should get my shopping completed as soon as possible without any distractions.
Anyway, after pausing and probably actually staring for a bit too long I looked away from the shopping assistant who was still struggling to clean up the fallen boxes and then make a start on setting the display back up. As I walked away I quickly forgot what I had witnessed and walked towards the checkout. It was one of those self scanning checkouts that either tend to work perfectly or simply cause absolute stress because they basically don’t work at all.
I happened to get one that worked pretty well and was able to scan my items with relative ease, one after the other, until it was time to make my payment. I used the credit card that had been given to me by my friend – although the irony was not lost on me regarding the saying ‘nothing in life comes for free’.
Anyway, I paid for the items and made my way out of the store.
As I walked back out, I thought that perhaps the temperature had dropped a little. This was unusual for this time of day, as normally there was a bit of an increase as the day moved towards lunch and then the afternoon. I felt the snow crunch under my feet as I began my journey back to the lodge.
I heard someone call out to me from across the road and I waved, despite not being entirely sure who it was. The other person waved back, laughing. How odd, I thought, perhaps this person think I am someone else, someone that they met perhaps at a bar after the ski session on a previous day?
Well, I guess these things happen, I thought, pondering the absurdity of life.
I crossed the road and walked into a sports goods shop to pick up a water bottle to use in the lodge’s top of the range gym. The shop was empty in terms of customers, one shop assistant sat at the checkout reading a magazine about new wave cinema – a surprising sight to see, but then again: why shouldn’t a shop assistant be reading such a magazine or have an interest in the French new wave?
Well, enough about that, and don’t be so judgemental, I thought, correcting my preconceptions.
I walked over to the register to pay for the item. I used the credit card again and it took three attempts – the sales assistant said the machine had been playing up all morning so I wasn’t to worry, it was nothing to do with the card in all probability.
Out of guilt over my judgement, I brought up the magazine and we had a pretty interesting conversation about cinema.
I stated my preference for action comedy, making the case that when done well it can combine the best of both worlds and provide an unrivalled experience for the cinema goer.
The shop assistant seemed cynical towards my theory at first but as we went through the classic tropes he seemed to warm to my hypothesis. Well, it’s such a funny world isn’t it.
A customer and a sales assistant discussing and getting deep on cinema in an alpine holiday resort.
Whatever next, I though.
We’re all just people ultimately, I also thought.
I told the sales assistant that I did not require a receipt and he approved due to the environmental factor.
I left the shop and felt quite upbeat. Now was the time to begin the walk back to the lodge and what happened next shocked me, even taking into account what had happened already since getting on the flight with Transformation Airlines.
**
I arrived back at the chalet and was immediately taken aback.
Why?
I’ll tell you exactly why.
I could see that there was a small group of people outside of the house.
I’ll be more specific: men.
I’ll be even more specific: large, muscular, athletic, men.
Part of me considered turning right around and walking away. I mean, who were these people? What did they want?
To be honest, a part of me knew exactly what they wanted. They wanted my hot body, my curves, my feminine charms.
I had it all: significant titties, a small waist, curved and toned hips and a booty that was the perfect mix of gym work and jiggling sexuality.
No of course it was all coming back to me.
Last night.
The looks I was getting as I shopped.
I remembered how I had gone to a bar, had a few drinks, and in my excitement and thrill as a newly formed babe, had gone a little wild.
Dancing on the bar.
Kissing other hot women to tease the men, all drunk and horny, as they cheered us on, their cocks growing hard in their pants.
It couldn’t be that I’d given these men my address?
Could it?
I was about to find out.
A man, at least six foot two if not more, with broad shoulders, a physique that was lean and powerful – and totally accentuated by his skin
-tight warm-wear, approached me, licking his lips in that seductive way big, alpha men who understand their own power do.
“Hey girl,” He said. “My name is Marcus and my friends and I would like to take you out boarding with us today. How does that sound?”
“Well, um, that sounds… superb,” I said, a mix of excited nerves and total thrill at the prospect of being such an in demand babe.
He nodded and turned to his friends, each and every one of them a brilliant specimen of masculinity.
“I’ll just go inside and get my snow wear,” I said.
“No need,” Marcus said. “We have a costume for you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
A breathtakingly macho man called Tex passed Marcus a suit that seemed to be ridiculously tight, with colours that emphasized the areas around my tits, pussy, and ass.
“Don’t worry about getting cold,” Tex said. “This is specialist, top of the line material that has been newly developed. There’s a growing market for snow sluts…”
The men laughed.
I should have been offended but instead I just felt excited.
“Well, bimbo,” Marcus said, “What are you waiting for?”
“Here?” I replied, suddenly feeling a little intimidated.
“For fuck sake,” Tex said, clearly totally out of patience.
With that, Tex and Marcus walked to me, picked me up and put me over their shoulders.
I felt my leggings being yanked down.
To cheers of the men, I felt my ass exposed in the cold.
Then it began.
Spank!
Spank!
Spank!
Spank!
The men loved it, cheersing and hollering after each one.
Then I felt fingers being pushed into my pussy, by now totally hot and soaking wet of course.
I let out a moan and began to grind my crotch into Tex’s large, beefy shoulder.
“That’s it, bitch,” Tex said, “You show us what a bimbo slut you are!”
Before I knew it, I was completely nude and being pushed around amongst the men, each one taking it in turns to grab, slap, pull and push on me.
I was in heaven, I could not deny it.
“You see, guys, we have a live one here!” Marcus roared.
At this point, he picked me up again – I just loved the helpless feeling of being carried in the fireman’s lift position – and carried me over to his large SUV. He opened the back door and put me on all fours, totally naked now, my head facing in to the car and my shapely ass and glistening pussy on full display facing outwards.
I knew what was coming.
“Here we go men, let’s have a quick warm up on her,” Marcus said.
“If her pussy is as hot as her dancing last night then we’re in for some fun!” One of the other men roared, a buff and elegant Swede.
I didn’t have to wait long to feel the first cock push its way into my more than willing pussy.
This was incredible.
I was losing my virginity, I guess.
My female virginity.
It felt incredible to be totally in the control of these men, serving their needs, letting them pump away on me and fill me with their hot cum.
Some of the men came almost straight away, a few hard and fast jolts was all it took. I accepted this as a compliment and turned my head and smiled and winked at them.
They’d have another chance to get in my hot pussy later, and they knew it.
It wasn’t long before I could feel myself begin to cum too. It was absolutely mind blowing, I think I must have experienced at least three orgasms.
The men certainly seemed to be enjoying the show as I moaned louder and louder.
“I can feel that tight little pussy of yours pulsing on my dick,” Marcus said quietly, a tone of both dominance and even affection in his voice.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” I said, my mind blown, my body totally at one with his.
“I’m going to give you everything,” Marcus said as I felt his hot cum spirt into my pussy. “Every hole, every last drop of my seed, every postion, I am going to make you the ultimate sex crazed, cum hungry bimbo you could ever wish to be.”
I was speechless.
I was in love.
If I had had any doubts about my change from a man to a woman, they were well and truly gone now.
I was in heaven.
And we still had the rest of the day, and night, to go!
Feminized For The Bikers
A FEMINIZATION GENDER SWAP ROMANCE
By
Tina Majors
Perfect10 Books
All rights reserved with the author, Tina Majors (2019-)
So I was running late. I mean, I’m not talking about fifty seconds late, or fifteen minutes, but I would say I was at least one hour behind schedule.
Think it couldn’t get any worse?
I was conscious that I was losing time, too. So, yeah, I was looking at being well over an hour late for the appointment. Now, I usually pride myself on punctuality.
Some would say I’m time crazy, a fiend of accurate timekeeping if you will. I was never late anywhere, and I mean never, ever, ever. I was aware of my reputation as a punctuality perfectionist. There were jokes about me wearing two watches, having an alarm clock fitted into my skin as if I was some kind of modern day cyborg.
Good natured jokes of course, nothing malicious about them. Heck, I even found the cyborg reference pretty amusing (I’m a lifelong fan of science fiction, so you can see how this reference would appeal to me.)
Well, I couldn’t even really argue with the jokes had I wanted to. I knew full well the truth was that I was indeed highly focused on time, particularly with the avoidance of lateness.
I hated it when anyone was late, sure.
But what really stung me was the idea that I could be late. I’m talking appointments, friendly hang outs, the movies, anything. If you can be late to it, I was the person who absolutely wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs.
I took a turn out of the station exit and paused for a moment to gather my bearings.
I was pretty incredible when it came to this kind of thing.
You could drop me in the middle of a city, jungle, or metallic maze, and I would have my sense of direction on point in moments.
Call it a natural skill, call it intuition, call it a lifetime of map reading.
Call it all of the above.
Sure, there are more glamorous skills, but this was a practical skill I knew I could always rely on. In fact, it had got me out of trouble on more than one occasion.
The thing is, even in these days of GPS tracking systems on ever smartphone, there is no answer to what happens if your cell runs out of juice, if the coverage goes out, or if you drop the handset down a manhole.
That’s right.
I’m right, aren’t I?
Well, I felt secure in the knowledge that in any or all of the afore mentioned scenarios, I would be fine.
Call it arrogance if you like.
Many have.
But to me, it was just self-acknowledgment of a natural skill honed by hours of practice. I would never back down over this, and now was yet another chance to demonstrate the usefulness of my ability.
Here I was, without the usual luxury of a cab, but I was determined not to let it undermine me or hold me back.
Sure, I was late.
But where there was a will to make up time, there was always a way.
So, yeah, this picture is building up now isn’t it.
Time obsessed person runs late – and getting later by the second – for appointment. Not a recipe for success.
Well, as I say, I really was not happy.
I had been on schedule, the train arriving at the station on time, but to my shock the cab rank was shut down for large scale alterations. Still, I expected there would be alternate arrangements put in place to cover this reality. After all, it was
a pretty major train station and many commuters used it on a daily basis. To my horror however, it became apparent that cans simply were not running from this station until the work was done. There was the option of the bus, but that really did not appeal too much to me.
The idea of stuffing in like a packed can of beans was not to my own personal preference.
And that’s putting it mildly.
I decided that seeing as public transport was an absolute no-no, I would have to hot foot it myself and attempt to get their on foot. Sure, I would be late, but I thought that if I at least tried to start moving in that direction straight away I would at least be there sooner rather than later.
Also, I knew that things could change fast, perhaps an opportunity would present itself to me that could change the game. The obvious example being a stray cab driving past me, empty, looking for a quick and easy fare.
Yes, this might just work, I thought, refusing to panic, staying calm, not freaking out.
I gauged my position and made a left turn.
The way I figured, remembering from the map I had viewed online last night, I would need to walk for a few blocks, maybe half an hour, more or less in a straight line. It was actually a really simple journey, so for an expert orienteer such as myself I honestly couldn’t contemplate too many problems.
Well, here we go, I thought, still relaxed, but conscious that I didn’t exactly have a surplus of time to be playing with if I wanted to save face and get to my destinations efficiently as was possible in this situation.
The weather was actually pretty nice, a change – and a welcome one at that – from the recent inclemency that had manifested as shower after shower after… yes, you guessed it. If anything, it was a little too warm for ideal walking conditions. I was aware that if I pushed it too hard I would end up being soaked through, and that was never a perfect look.
Unless, of course, it’s after a heavy session in the gym or post-workout.
This realisation made me keep my eyes even more focused on attaining a cab.
