A blog for Gay transformation stories and Gay encouragement. I was once a straight male, but now I am a crossdressing shefag who revels in his/her addiction to Gay Porn. I'm open to messages with others who feel/identify the same way.
I met Carl at the gym. Or more precisely, the gym showers. I was minding my own business, doing my best to admire the grout work to avoid any awkward eye contact or worse, catching a glimpse of someone's tackle, when he came up behind me, reached around, and fondled my cock.
I was horrified. And yet, my cock leapt into action. Blood quickly pumped into my prick and his magic hand stroked me until I was spewing my load against the tiles. Thank goodness no one else was there.
I left on shaking legs. I couldn't understand why I'd enjoyed the unwanted handjob so much. It plagued my thoughts for days and no amount of straight porn could dispel it from my mind. Not even lesbian porn helped. Every time I came the memories of his hand on my tool enveloped me like a phantom.
I bumped into him again a couple of weeks later. I noticed him in the gym and tried to avoid him, but despite all my efforts we ended up in the showers together again. I thought about leaving, but I told myself to man up. Or at least, that was the excuse I gave myself. Deep down, I wanted to feel the ecstasy again.
This time he approached from the side. I pretended not to notice. He stood right next to me, smiling, and reached down to grasp my already half-erect cock. I shut my eyes and focused on the sensations coursing up my body. No girlfriend had come close to this. What was it about him? I didn't think I was gay. Were his hands really magic?
My breathe quickened and I shot several ropes of ball batter against the tiles. And then I went back to showering like nothing had happened. Carl, whose name I still didn't know, showered next to me. We didn't talk. We just washed ourselves and went on our way.
I felt so conflicted. I loved this stranger's hands on my most intimate of places, but I didn't find men attractive. I hit the town on the weekend, managed to hook up with someone, and gave the slut everything I had. I barely felt my orgasm. It was like trying to watch sport on an old cathode ray television after experiencing it in 4k. Knowing how much better it could be made it impossible to go back.
The next time Carl and I were alone in the gym shower, my cock rose of its own accord. I wasn't ready to make eye contact with him, but when he approached I didn't pretend to keep showering. I just shut my eyes and waited for the jolt of pleasure that would follow. He made me wait. My heart pounded in my ears. The anticipation had me on edge. When he finally grabbed me I jumped. I lasted for all of two pumps. Days worth of my cream blasted off the tiles. My heavy breathing turned into panting moans.
I learned his name from the note he left in my bag. Wear a tight pair of shorts and use the treadmill when I'm around, it read. I want to admire your cute ass while I work out. Signed, Carl.
I did as he asked. I bought the tightest shorts I could find in the stores. My bulge showed clearly even when soft, and it was painted to curve of my ass. The next time I worked out I looked for him first, and as soon as I caught his eye I spun on my heel and strolled to the treadmills. I took one on the front row and jogged for miles.
I made eye contact again as we undressed in the changing room. His smile was warm, and I looked down with a blush. I wanted this. I followed him into the showers, my erect cock bobbing all the way. He waved me toward him and handed me his shower gel. I understood. I squeezed some out onto my hands and he turned around. My hands ran across his broad shoulders, across his back, glided over his tight butt, and I knelt to reach his legs. He turned back, his half-erect cock dangerously close to my face, and I worked back up his body.
I washed his cock as though it were just another part of his body. It was exciting to hold his thick phallus, but I dared not stroke it unless he explicitly told me to. I continued up his stomach, over his strong chest, and trailed back down his arms to finish.
It was my turn. He washed me in much the same way. My whole body felt like an erogenous zone underneath his silken touch. He called me a cock tease, and said if I flaunted my tight butt in front of him again he'd fuck me hard. All I could do was moan. When my body was washed he grasped my cock and asked if that's what I wanted. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't gay. And then he slid a finger between my cheeks and pressed gently against my rose bud. It was like he pressed a button. My whole body came. He had to catch me to stop me from hitting to the floor.
I wanted to get fucked by him so bad. There was still a part of me screaming that I wasn't gay, but that voice was irrelevant. I experimented with my fingers, bought dildos to practice with, and watched nothing but gay porn in preparation. A week later I strutted through the gym in my tight shorts looking for him. When I caught his eye I winked. I was ready.
He pushed me up against the cold tiles. He took his time, allowing me to adjust to his girth, and then his magic hand was reaching around my waist and took hold of my stiff dick. His strokes matched the timing of his thrusts. Waves of pleasure crashed through my body. Yes, yes. Fuck me. I'm yours.
Tight shorts and a tight top, two days from now were his orders. I followed every word. I was willing to do anything to feel his magic hands on my body, and be filled with his magnificent cock again. It was all I lived for. After every sweaty session, he gave me further instructions. Don't cut my hair. Shave my body. Present more femme. Wear the clothes he bought me. Use the makeup he left in my bag. Meet him at this address.
I knocked on his door. The trench coat covered the slutty lingerie I wore beneath. When he opened the door I opened my coat and stood there with my cock on display until I had permission to enter. If there was any doubt left in my mind it was gone the moment he grabbed my cock and pulled me in for a kiss. We made out there, in the street, as a nice looking ordinary couple walked by.
Inside Carl wasted no time in dragging me to his bed to fuck me. I screamed and moaned just as he'd trained me to do, all the while his magic hands cemented my devotion to him. Afterwards we cuddled and watched a film, and I knew I was officially his gurlfriend.
The realisation made me horny all over again, so I went down for the first time and coaxed his wonderful gaymaker back to life with my mouth. I'd intended for him to fuck me, but the flavour took me by surprise and I couldn't stop. Before long he was flooding my hungry mouth with his salty snack, instantly making me an addict.
I moved in. I quite my job and hired on as his secretary for half the wage I earned before. I still don't know if I was always gay or if Carl somehow did this to me. He's shared me with other men and none of them make me feel the same way he does. Although that's not to say I don't enjoy it. I do, and I can't remember what it was that appealed to me about women in the first place. Either way, I just make sure to thank him every night when we go to sleep.
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The Magic Touch
I met Carl at the gym. Or more precisely, the gym showers. I was minding my own business, doing my best to admire the grout work to avoid any awkward eye contact or worse, catching a glimpse of someone's tackle, when he came up behind me, reached around, and fondled my cock.
I was horrified. And yet, my cock leapt into action. Blood quickly pumped into my prick and his magic hand stroked me until I was spewing my load against the tiles. Thank goodness no one else was there.
I left on shaking legs. I couldn't understand why I'd enjoyed the unwanted handjob so much. It plagued my thoughts for days and no amount of straight porn could dispel it from my mind. Not even lesbian porn helped. Every time I came the memories of his hand on my tool enveloped me like a phantom.
I bumped into him again a couple of weeks later. I noticed him in the gym and tried to avoid him, but despite all my efforts we ended up in the showers together again. I thought about leaving, but I told myself to man up. Or at least, that was the excuse I gave myself. Deep down, I wanted to feel the ecstasy again.
This time he approached from the side. I pretended not to notice. He stood right next to me, smiling, and reached down to grasp my already half-erect cock. I shut my eyes and focused on the sensations coursing up my body. No girlfriend had come close to this. What was it about him? I didn't think I was gay. Were his hands really magic?
My breathe quickened and I shot several ropes of ball batter against the tiles. And then I went back to showering like nothing had happened. Carl, whose name I still didn't know, showered next to me. We didn't talk. We just washed ourselves and went on our way.
I felt so conflicted. I loved this stranger's hands on my most intimate of places, but I didn't find men attractive. I hit the town on the weekend, managed to hook up with someone, and gave the slut everything I had. I barely felt my orgasm. It was like trying to watch sport on an old cathode ray television after experiencing it in 4k. Knowing how much better it could be made it impossible to go back.
The next time Carl and I were alone in the gym shower, my cock rose of its own accord. I wasn't ready to make eye contact with him, but when he approached I didn't pretend to keep showering. I just shut my eyes and waited for the jolt of pleasure that would follow. He made me wait. My heart pounded in my ears. The anticipation had me on edge. When he finally grabbed me I jumped. I lasted for all of two pumps. Days worth of my cream blasted off the tiles. My heavy breathing turned into panting moans.
I learned his name from the note he left in my bag. Wear a tight pair of shorts and use the treadmill when I'm around, it read. I want to admire your cute ass while I work out. Signed, Carl.
I did as he asked. I bought the tightest shorts I could find in the stores. My bulge showed clearly even when soft, and it was painted to curve of my ass. The next time I worked out I looked for him first, and as soon as I caught his eye I spun on my heel and strolled to the treadmills. I took one on the front row and jogged for miles.
I made eye contact again as we undressed in the changing room. His smile was warm, and I looked down with a blush. I wanted this. I followed him into the showers, my erect cock bobbing all the way. He waved me toward him and handed me his shower gel. I understood. I squeezed some out onto my hands and he turned around. My hands ran across his broad shoulders, across his back, glided over his tight butt, and I knelt to reach his legs. He turned back, his half-erect cock dangerously close to my face, and I worked back up his body.
I washed his cock as though it were just another part of his body. It was exciting to hold his thick phallus, but I dared not stroke it unless he explicitly told me to. I continued up his stomach, over his strong chest, and trailed back down his arms to finish.
It was my turn. He washed me in much the same way. My whole body felt like an erogenous zone underneath his silken touch. He called me a cock tease, and said if I flaunted my tight butt in front of him again he'd fuck me hard. All I could do was moan. When my body was washed he grasped my cock and asked if that's what I wanted. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't gay. And then he slid a finger between my cheeks and pressed gently against my rose bud. It was like he pressed a button. My whole body came. He had to catch me to stop me from hitting to the floor.
I wanted to get fucked by him so bad. There was still a part of me screaming that I wasn't gay, but that voice was irrelevant. I experimented with my fingers, bought dildos to practice with, and watched nothing but gay porn in preparation. A week later I strutted through the gym in my tight shorts looking for him. When I caught his eye I winked. I was ready.
He pushed me up against the cold tiles. He took his time, allowing me to adjust to his girth, and then his magic hand was reaching around my waist and took hold of my stiff dick. His strokes matched the timing of his thrusts. Waves of pleasure crashed through my body. Yes, yes. Fuck me. I'm yours.
Tight shorts and a tight top, two days from now were his orders. I followed every word. I was willing to do anything to feel his magic hands on my body, and be filled with his magnificent cock again. It was all I lived for. After every sweaty session, he gave me further instructions. Don't cut my hair. Shave my body. Present more femme. Wear the clothes he bought me. Use the makeup he left in my bag. Meet him at this address.
I knocked on his door. The trench coat covered the slutty lingerie I wore beneath. When he opened the door I opened my coat and stood there with my cock on display until I had permission to enter. If there was any doubt left in my mind it was gone the moment he grabbed my cock and pulled me in for a kiss. We made out there, in the street, as a nice looking ordinary couple walked by.
Inside Carl wasted no time in dragging me to his bed to fuck me. I screamed and moaned just as he'd trained me to do, all the while his magic hands cemented my devotion to him. Afterwards we cuddled and watched a film, and I knew I was officially his gurlfriend.
The realisation made me horny all over again, so I went down for the first time and coaxed his wonderful gaymaker back to life with my mouth. I'd intended for him to fuck me, but the flavour took me by surprise and I couldn't stop. Before long he was flooding my hungry mouth with his salty snack, instantly making me an addict.
I moved in. I quite my job and hired on as his secretary for half the wage I earned before. I still don't know if I was always gay or if Carl somehow did this to me. He's shared me with other men and none of them make me feel the same way he does. Although that's not to say I don't enjoy it. I do, and I can't remember what it was that appealed to me about women in the first place. Either way, I just make sure to thank him every night when we go to sleep.