LV/45
As I approached my fifteenth birthday I started to yearn for the need to have my own, natural breasts. I had started with the hormones some ten months before and they had, so far, reduced the hair all over my body. The stubble of soft hair over my face had disappeared and I had started to soften some angles in my face. But I needed my tits. And none had sprouted so far. I had played with inserting silicone tits of every size in my bra and had really felt comfortable and sexy with discreetly sized ones. I wanted to keep my very sensitive nipples which had kept me happy and horny. I believed implants would disrupt that. A finger hovering over my large nipples would make my cock go hard which at a single touch. The boys I was playing with and who enjoyed penetrating me from behind did not pay any attention to my nipples, squarely ignored my cock (never a touch, never a pat) and refused to give me any pleasure except through my ass with their cocks --and of course, you can imagine, not a tongue ever approached my ass, ever. I needed those things. I was getting tired of the guys, also because their hormones were raging and they were getting too rough for my taste. I mean, my ass also needed some careful handling which they disregarded completely. It was my task to make sure I was well lubed so to avoid any troubles. I wanted more and more to be their girl but I was to be just the queer boy that liked to be sodomized. It was no use: they would never see me as one, and much less treat me as one. Not that they treated other girls well. Antoine was also getting tired. Antoine was my sole male friend. Antoine provided me all those pleasures. He would also prepare me for the sessions sometimes, helping me to distend my sphincter with ointments and his fingers in advance as we knew when the sessions would happen --in the showers after gym class. But more often he would help me heal with more ointments. We had spent the last three years very close to each other, and he was by far my best lover. He was jealous of the other guys; but he was angrier at the way they treated me (and, in passing, angry with me at the way I insisted to keep on being open to others). We were intimate, but not as much as he liked. I would end very sore some days and he would just cure me. He would refuse to enter me in those conditions. Even in his gentle ways he knew it would hurt too much. And the sad thing really is that as I healed I would go again give myself to the wild boys. When I was horny with Antoine, and I was sore, it would be me that would fuck him. It was a special moment for my cock: it seemed to rise to life with Antoine, and it felt right with him. He was soft, he was tight, he was welcoming and I felt how much he liked it. Unlike me, he never gave himself to the boys. I was exclusive for Antoine at a time when I still had never been with a girl. Antoine knew that I liked girls and that as I became one I would start searching for one. In our lovemaking he did not mind that I whispered to him the words I had imagined I would say to my first girl. And I hoped my first girl would be one like myself. As I penetrated Antoine deep, I would have his balls in my hand thinking how good a pair of girl's ball felt. I came inside him with immense pleasure, thinking of a girl's ass. He knew he was my girl in those moments, and panted like one. I would also suck a lot on his nipples which, like mine, were very sensitive. My cock, I was sure, would never have worked with any of the boys, in the remote chance one of them asked for it. In fact, it never got hard as they pounded me. Only with Antoine would it rise. The fact is that we complemented each other and felt deep affection for one another. But we knew that at some point we would have to split: he yearned to be with a man, and I wished to be with a woman. We had learned so much from each other; we had shielded ourselves from outsiders fairly well --except when I agreed to let them fuck me. Antoine knew that those sessions were transgressive --sometimes he spoke aggressively of them because of the harm they caused me. They gave me a weird --sadistic? sense of pleasure, more so when he said, rightly so, that he was able to give me genuine emotional and physical love. He knew what he was talking about. But I had become addicted to their cocks. Antoine was not enough. Yet I knew that I had to stop being a slut. If not, I would lose Antoine and I would lose my dreams --not to mention the health of my asshole. How was I to appeal to a woman if they knew I was periodically fucked by scores of boys? I needed to heal in so many ways. Antoine would be there for me, but not for long. I knew that the moment I decided to be feminine all-round, even as I gave up the violent, senseless fucking sessions, he would stop fucking me and leave. He wanted a boy, slightly effeminate perhaps, but a male lover.
This moment came in the form of nipples! We were lying naked and exhausted on my bed. We had been fucking on a holiday, the day of gym class, so I needed to have some cock and, as usual, when my asshole was in shape, Antoine was magnificent. He rode me from behind. He then continued from the front lifting my legs in the air. He finally finished by filling me from behind again. I noticed that as he was facing me pumping hard his sight was on my chest. He had noticed. A few days before I myself had felt that I was starting finally to blossom on the chest department. As I massaged myself with my hands exploring my tits while I masturbated I noticed that there was some discrete mass growing. I was ecstatic. Perhaps this is finally the launch of my wished new body; I was going to look like a girl. Face and generous ass cheeks were already there. "I think you are growing some tits" he said. "Yes I am, I am super happy" I answered. And then he added "I bet you are, but, even in you, they are a bit of a turn off for me". "I get it...does that mean you do not like me anymore?" I knew what was coming. I knew of his dislike to breasts. "Please like me a bit more. They are still small and who knows if they will keep growing" I begged. "You know you are special to me, but you are looking more and more like a girl. I will not leave you yet, but you have to stop searching for cheap ass fucking at school." So there I was: at a crossroads where I would either become a girl ready in search for something new or, rather, stay as the slut of school where nothing new that I did to my body would matter. If anything, growing tits would probably generate a situation at school that would not end well. I still had Antoine for a few months but I needed to withdraw from current tastes in my life so I could start my path as a woman without his help. I foresaw the coming days where I would start looking for girls; girls that would like girls like me.
PS 18. I had a feeling. I had a premonition. Alice was not a girl like any other. I could not prove it. Her baggy clothing in Yoga, top and bottom, were clearly aimed to hide it. Would she fear what I thought about it? She had come down for dinner and we drank a lot. My wife sat very close to her and started kissing her in the neck, then on the cheeks and then on the mouth. A long kiss. Their mouths opened and explored each other. Their hands started touching, and Alice's hand went fast to my wife's large breasts.