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Open Question

By: Kurokami



Author's note: This is my Halloween contest entry, and also my first original story in a while. I'd like to thank the bois in my life, Isabel, Allyourbase, and the real life D, for inspiring me to write this story and being such good sports about proofreading it and stopping me from making too many mistakes. 

If you like what you read, obviously your votes would be incredibly appreciated, given that this is a contest story, but I'd also love any comments you guys and gals have to share. Feedback is how I improve, after all. Enjoy!

****************

Her wrists hurt, ached really; rubbed raw from a good thirty minutes of struggling against the cheap metal cuffs that nevertheless proved able to perform a sterling job of keeping her restrained. Not that she could tell the time, what with being blindfolded and all. She could taste rubber, and had no doubt that she had been gagged.

She was only wearing ropes, a blindfold and a gag... Yeah, that's unsettling.

'Yeah, sorry 'bout this,' The voice, when it deigned to make an appearance, was familiar, but so sudden that she jumped, flinched away from it. 'But it didn't look like you were ever going to let me do it to you normally, so I figured I'd take the opportunity when it presented itself. Kind of a heavy sleeper, aren't we?'

The blindfold lifted away, revealing her face, grinning down from above. 

'Good morning, D,' She lilted, stepping away. This was the first time D had seen her this close to naked, and as the morning light hit her form the contradictions in her entire character clashed so wonderfully.

Marta was a confusing case, and nothing showed that off more than her body. She was all sweeping curves, a form that could have been infinitely graceful and feminine... only the sheer fact of Marta stood in its way. It was her posture, the way she distributed her weight, that did it. The way she raised her chin, almost in defiance of the rest of the world. It was the lack of sway in her hips, the extreme strength in the way she moved... she had the body and looks that kill, but a mind that didn't match. 

Just like D herself...

She wore a pure black hoodie, the hood pulled up over her head, with that long blonde hair spilling out around her shoulders, drawing D's eye down, to realize that the zip was left undone... and there was nothing underneath, save the lush curve of her breasts, hidden behind fabric and wavy golden hair. There was that flat, toned stomach, with the threat muscles trembling underneath, that navel that D had fantasized about running her tongue around countless times...

There were those boy shorts she loved, showing off the legs of someone who biked everywhere, who ran track as a hobby, who... oh, so many things. Stories that had made D- generally worldly and lascivious enough to bear up under any adult conversation- want to blush. The things that could be done to those legs...

It had taken D a long time to realize it, but this is who Marta was; a queer boi in the body of a woman. One who reveled in her in-between state, the dichotomy between her mind and her body. Her gender and sexuality an open question... and she loved it.

It was glorious.

'Don't speak, now,' Marta chuckled, well aware there was no way she could. 'Just let me do my thing. I know you're ready for it...'

***********

When they had first met, D hadn't thought much of Marta; just another femme blonde, nothing to see here. Certainly nothing to interest the lanky, dark haired boi with the big muscles and the awkward sense of physicality that she had never been able to shed. Even venturing out of her teenage years, D had struggled with trying to make her body match the image in her head. Flattening out her chest with tight, restrictive undershirts, cropping her hair as short as she could, eschewing makeup and dresses in favor of a never ending rotation of trousers, bulky shirts and, if she was feeling particularly dapper, the tailored suit her dad had gotten for her for her birthday, a few years back. She had been wearing it upon meeting Marta for the first time, and had interpreted the look in her eye upon seeing it as slightly derisive. Judgmental.

But then, the statuesque blonde femme had surprised her...

'Hey dude!' She had said, with her megawatt smile. There was something unrestrained in that grin, the way her lips parted, showing just a little too many teeth; maybe not traditionally attractive, but goofy and free in a way that D herself could only aspire to. When she smiled back, it was with a closed mouth... and perhaps a hint of blush. 

She had tagged the first male pronoun as a colloquialism, just a figure of her speech, nothing intentional. But it kept happening, over and over, with a consistency that brought a kind of private, happy glow to D; dude, sir... even "my good man," a couple of times. Marta was doing it on purpose, reaching past every defense D had set up in a single meeting. Too often she had had to endure the little double takes people had, as she was riding the train to and from work, the little "hey, wait" moments, where they looked past the façade of maleness D had erected, saw the lack of broad shoulders, or the all too smooth face, and had to recalculate. Just another girl, pretending. 

She had developed a habit of raising the walls, of watching the normal folk from afar. It only took Marta a moment to break through them; it was like she hadn't even needed to think of it, she just... knew. Treated D exactly as she wanted to be treated, without expecting anything, without assuming it was a phase, or wanting her to change... acceptance, without the need to compromise. 

If she had only met Marta that once, or rarely, that friend of a friend she sometimes saw around at parties, that would have been enough to make D feel less alone. But there was more to it than that; Marta had been invited in as the replacement drummer in D's band. They would be spending a lot of time together, certainly an idea that intrigued her, in the beginning. If only she had known how far it would go...

************

D had wanted Marta as a friend, but the attraction was undeniable; she'd always had a thing for women like that, pure confidence wrapped up in soft skin and a bundle of curves. But the truth behind Marta was far, far more complex. The femme exterior was just window dressing; the blonde was full of surprises. 

If Marta was anything, she quickly became the one person in the world who could draw out the social butterfly in D. Drag out, more accurately; D quickly lost count of the number of times Marta had hooked in, pulling her outside, arm in arm, ready to engage the world. D hardly minded; Marta was also her shield. Next to the tall, beautiful blonde, the looks of the people around them meant less and less. She could almost pretend that Marta was her girlfriend, despite how rare that was in reality...

In fact...

Once, she had dragged D to the city, set the two of them up patrolling the pedestrian mall, hand in hand, occasionally dropping into one of the myriad little stores dotting the streets. Marta would leap for the changing rooms, leaving D to gravitate naturally to the bank of seats set up in one corner as a concession to the countless hapless boyfriends that had performed this self same service. Sitting there gave D an odd sense of disconnect, as though she wasn't supposed to be there. Whenever she made eye contact with whatever other male had ended up there, in that fashionable purgatory, after the standard double take, they would give her the same questioning look: "shouldn't you be in the changing rooms?"

But this time, Marta hadn't used this visit to parade the usual series of t-shirts and skirts before D's eyes. This time, she aimed for a distinctly more masculine target; the same hoodies and men's shirts that D herself would normally be buying. Of course she pulled them off with aplomb, sauntering around in front of her, eyes almost daring her to suggest she looked less than flawless. 

This was something D would never do; in fact, seeing Marta parade around in a shirt and tie made something click inside of her, and click hard. Unbidden, various prurient thoughts entered the boi's head, until all D could think about was tugging on that tie to bring the blonde closer, tasting her, looking up into those deep blue eyes from her knees, working to undo the fly on that particularly fetching pair of black trousers...

But, of course, there was no possible way to act on those fantasies, except to spend the time that Marta spent in the changing room with her legs squeezed together, grinning to herself at how silly it was that this one little blonde who called her sir got her this worked up. When someone else took the seat next to her, D could only shoot him the same vaguely ill at ease look of solidarity that all boyfriends shared when in this situation, only briefly pausing to consider what an ill fitting thing that was. She certainly felt like Marta's suitor...

The minutes ticked on, and the young man who had sat beside her pulled out his phone, idly toying with it to avoid any form of awkward conversation. This was fine by D; she would prefer to wait in silence, entertaining herself with thoughts of what Marta would be wearing next, until her expectations were inevitably surpassed by the impossible good looks of the woman herself. 

All these men's clothes... almost as if she was trying to impress someone...

She emerged from her little booth this time, clad gloriously in a vest and bowtie, eyes glimmering as she sought out D for the ever present nod of approval, before her expression darkened with recognition. 

'Marty?' The man who had thus far spent his time here engrossed in his Iphone stood as Marta swept out into the room, took a step forward. The blonde's mouth curved dangerously close to a frown, just momentarily. If D hadn't been watching her so closely, she might have missed it, but she certainly saw the way it pulled up at the last possible second, becoming a plastic smile.

'Hi Jake,' Her voice had a tone in it that D had never heard on her before, but it made her feel somewhat strange, all the same. He had to be an ex, right? The thought was strangely distasteful to her; D had always held out the faint hope that Marta was... well, inclined her way, rather than toward men. Well, perhaps toward men that were like D, anyway... the concept was a muddy one. 

'What are you doing here?' Again the fake sunny voice, all platitudes and no content. As she watched, D began ruminating on why it was people felt compelled to act nice to people they had no desire to be around. Well, at least it turned into kind of a cool spectator sport.

'Out with a girl,' There was a hint of pride in Jake's tone, and D could have sworn he had looked back at her for a moment, as if confirming that the same couldn't possibly be true of Marta. When he continued, this became all but certain, 'And you?'

And then it happened. Marta spent a mere second shooting D a sly look, before...

'Oh, I'm out with my boyfriend,' Though it wasn't in her nature to do so, Marta practically flounced over to D, situating herself neatly in the boi's lap, the curve of her back pressed firmly against D's tightly bound chest. The feeling was something else, especially as that flowing mane of blonde hair was flipped casually over D's shoulder, making their contact completely unhindered. Marta topped her little performance with a showy, entirely unexpected kiss to D's lips, replete with a flick of the tongue that made it very hard for the boi to contain her surprise. Even so, she felt she came away from the experience without giving too much away; Jake's perturbed expression certainly made it seem that way.

The situation remained like that for a while; Marta stayed put on D's lap, obviously for show, as she made idle chitchat with Jake- now confirmed as her ex boyfriend. In the end, the entire exchange only lasted a few minutes, and once the man's new ladyfriend had returned from the changing rooms he had removed himself from the store with no small degree of haste; it had ended up being no big deal. Well.. no big deal to everyone except D.

Being not only a boy, but a boyfriend, and having that accepted outright by another person... by Marta...

It was the day her tiny, twinging crush had morphed into full blown infatuation.

****************

From that day, Marta's breezy teasing seemed to intensify, or perhaps D simply became more acutely aware of it. The lingering physical contacts, that seemed to go on just a little too long, the cheek-kisses replete with a possibly illusory flick of the tongue... so many little, familiar things, having taken on new meaning in the shadow of that one exchange in that little changing room. It was enough to drive a boi crazy...

It wouldn't be so bad, if Marta was like all of D's other friends; an occasional visitor that would intrude into her life exactly as much as D herself wished. But of course, she was a member of the band, too; Marta was inextricably tied to her music. Whenever D hefted her guitar case over her shoulder to go to practice, she knew that Marta would be there. Her mind would go to Marta's biceps, strung tight as she pounded out another rhythmic drum beat, underpinning every song they played. Marta had the opportunity to wind herself around D's life in a way few other people had been allowed to... and she took full advantage of that opportunity.

Which was how D had ended up staying at her house, after practice a week out from Halloween. 

The band had been offered a gig playing at a party held in one of the smaller local clubs on the night of the holiday itself, and though costumes had come recommended, D herself had come to a loose end in that area. Mostly, it felt like she was wearing a costume just getting up in the morning every day; her own body felt slightly false, like wearing a mask. Wearing a secondary, more garish costume would just be redundant.

But Marta had cared, and so with characteristic insistence had dragged D away. She chattered away about all manner of things while they picked up some cheap Chinese food and beer before heading back to Marta's tiny, almost unnaturally quiet apartment. Though the place was inexpensive, it also seemed... off, somehow. Like Marta herself, really. The windows were all high enough that one felt like one should be able to see over the top of the neighboring building, but no matter how one craned, the shadow of the wall obscured it. Sitting in Marta's apartment was like existing in a null space, a gap in the world where nothing but Marta herself could intrude. 

D had taken to it immediately.

'So, what are you going as?' Marta said, breaking the silence that had descended as she had busied herself in the kitchen collecting cutlery and a bottle opener. She sat at the opposite end of her couch to D, draping herself over as much of the available real estate as possible, cracking open a beer.

'For what?' 

'Halloween. Costumes. You have to do something, everyone else is,' Marta arched an eyebrow. 'You'll stick out more if you're out of costume, you know.'

'But I've got no ideas,' D shrugged, already conceding that she would go in costume; Marta certainly seemed to know what buttons to press. 

'Well...' At this she paused, shifted in her seat and sat up. She seemed to search for the words before speaking, 'Will you be going as a guy or a girl?'

D froze, crossed her legs. Part of her had hoped that Marta just hadn't seen it, just... looked at her, and seen one gender. The one D had wanted. They had never discussed it, and Marta had consistently used male pronouns with her... It had been easy to at least pretend. 

She had never had it this easy before, it always came up with other people. She had never quite been able to pass; too much ass, hips too curvy, and always the hint of her breasts no matter how tightly she bound them... It was only so long before the people around her asked why she always looked so different.

'So you did notice that,' D said, trying hard not to sound disappointed. Judging from Marta's suddenly sympathetic expression, it was apparent that she had failed to do so.

'Yeah, I did, but it's pretty easy to tell which way you're swingin'. You always seem so pleased when I call you a dude, so... whatever,' She grinned. 'Though I guess I have been kind of curious as to how far that goes, for you.'

'What, you mean, like, am I trans just waiting to happen?' Now it was D's turn to spend a moment in contemplation. 'I don't really know. Sometimes I feel like that, but I get these little... girly spikes, sometimes. It's really distracting.'

'You've never shown off a feminine side before,' When Marta said it, there was an oddly accusatory edge to the words, as though by not doing so, D had gypped her out of something. A terribly adorable frown crested her features, and D had an unbidden vision of kissing it away, though it quickly faded.

'It's there, though,' She sighed. 'I don't go outside wearing dresses or anything, but that's just to save time. It goes too fast, but... well, you should see me home alone some days. Real girly.'

'Do I detect a hint of judgment?' With every sentence, Marta seemed to be actively drawing closer, pulling herself in like she was being told an entertaining story. Could this really be the first time they had discussed this? D had known her for months...

'Yeah, a bit,' She nodded, drinking deeply from her bottle. 'I mean, it's all so... changeable. Most days I just wish I could pick one.'

'Well, pick one now,' Marta said. 'For a costume. Don't be a downer at a party, D.'

'That's easy for you to say, you're just the one gender,' This time, there was no hope of stopping the bitterness from seeping into her voice. For a brief moment, D had thought that she had found someone understanding, someone she could trust enough to speak candidly about the warped nature of her body... but here she was, being blasé about it. Of all people, she never expected Marta would be one to let her down.

For her part, the blonde simply stared intently at D for a moment, eyes scanning the boi's facial expression, as if hoping to find the answer to some internal question, yet finding none forthcoming. The moment passed and, with a grin, Marta leaned all the way back in her seat and took the longest, most drawn out swig of beer that D had ever seen; when she dropped the bottle onto her coffee table, it was completely empty. 

'Now, is that actually what you think?' Marta said, showing too many teeth. 'Just because I've got the long hair and the big tits, you think I'm a girl?'

'Well... yeah?' D ventured, privately hoping to herself that that meant what she hoped it meant. 'Just look at you, Marta. Total femme.'

'To the untrained eye!' With a showy gesture, Marta leapt to her feet, bouncing out a little ways to give D the best view of her- still luscious- body. 'Look a little closer...'

With that as the only warning, Marta reached down and lifted the hem of her dress until it reached the bottom of her bust, revealing... everything underneath. D's eyes didn't immediately focus on what Marta was trying to show her; instead, they trailed helplessly up her long, pale legs, gaze licking at her skin, until finally they settled on what they were supposed to.

A pair of boxer briefs, elastic clinging firmly to the beautiful curve of her hips. 

Lucky elastic...

'So... what?' D asked, as Marta dropped her dress once more. 'You're saying you're... like me?'

'Ask me what I am,' Marta winked, before standing expectantly. It took D a moment to even gather the mental energy to ask.


Open Question



'Are you a girl?'

'No,' That gorgeous smile growing, across a face whose expression had shifted once more; a more mercurial look now, sly and infinitely challenging. 

'Are you a boy, then?'

It was no longer the smile D knew; no longer Marta's smile. In its place was something deeper, at the core of her; D could tell immediately that this wasn't a joke to her. This wasn't a game she was playing, or a little platitude designed to make D herself feel more at ease. This wasn't for anyone else. This was as real as it got.

'No.'

'Then what does that make you, huh?' D couldn't help herself, she leaned forward. But the question seemed to strike Marta dumb, for a while. The blonde seemed to grapple with the concept quite openly, her tongue running restlessly along the inside of her lip as she thought; of course, that action caused D to begin thinking about her tongue, meaning that for the length of Marta's contemplation the boi's attention was on something else entirely.

'Marta,' She answered finally, with a little nod of pride. 

'Nice answer,' D couldn't help but smile at the satisfied expression the answer had given Marta. 'But I can't help but notice it's not an answer at all.'

'Yeah, well... welcome to life beyond the gender binary, D. I would have thought you knew a bit about that,' Marta said with a shrug, though notably she did not sit down again; D wondered- hoped, really- if she had more to show. Oddly, her confusion only seemed to enhance the prurient thoughts running through her mind.

'So what? Are you both? Or none?' D gesticulated vaguely in Marta's direction. 'Either way, how can you be... like that? Doesn't it make you... twitchy?'

'No. Why would it?' Marta asked, tilting her head. 'It's not... one or the other. It's not binary. You're so convinced you need to be a one or a zero, huh? What's so wrong with being a two?'

'We live in a world of ones and zeroes, Marta,' D sighed. 'I get enough stares to know that.'

'No, we just live in a world full of fractions or decimal points,' Marta giggled, shaking her head. 'Only everyone's so convinced that everyone else is a whole number that they're afraid to let slip that they're fraction-curious.'

'I think you mixed the metaphor, there,' D said, after a pause that allowed her to reshuffle her mind slightly. 'Besides, it still doesn't change my point. It's still easy for you, Miss Asexual! You can still look like the one thing...'

'Asexual?' This tripped a grin across Marta's face, soft and unbearably sultry. 'Now, who said anything about that? I never did...'

It was a sudden change, like Marta had shifted gears in her head. All of a sudden she'd gone from brash and showy to sly and suggestive in the space of a few seconds. Before D knew it, the blonde had crossed the distance between them, stepping up onto the couch... not beside D, but on top of her. Warm, soft thighs encircled D's hips.

'Does this seem asexual to you?' Marta asked, giving D no time to make a sound; both hands slipped around D's face, keeping her in an easy position for the blonde's soft, full lips to press against hers. The kiss was immediately deep and shocking, Marta's tongue forcing its way past D's unprepared lips and into her mouth. There was fire to it, heat... a youthful passion that D had long since discarded. The boi couldn't help but shiver a little, feeling the kiss she had fantasized about for months, Marta's active tongue licking across hers. She pulled away with a deep intake of breath, letting out a satisfied sigh as her long hair fanned out behind her.

'What was-?' D began, voice shaky and cheeks flushed. Marta had come on so suddenly...

'I like contradictions,' Marta cut in, eyes like liquid helium, her entire expression projecting unplumbed depths of lust and depravity, almost like a threat. 'Like you. Men with cunts except sometimes they're not. Doesn't make sense, I love that... But you didn't answer my question: does that seem asexual to you? Does this?'

All the time she had been talking, Marta's fingers had been working at the buckle of D's belt, showing off marked dexterity and the kind of easy motion that could only come with practice. Before D could react, rebuff her... anything, those deft fingers had delved into her pants.

'Well? Nothing sexual here? Really?' She grinned, those canine teeth seeming almost wolf-like, predatory. D squirmed, a fact that she didn't fail to notice, 'You're wet, D. I can feel it.'

D could feel it too, of course. The transition had only taken the moment that Marta had kissed her to do it; from zero to a hundred in the space of a single curl of the tongue. Had the blonde's hand not been there, her shorts would have been soaked. This was a moment she had thought about so many times, so many idle fantasies while alone in her room... Marta's fingers... On her pussy...

But not her cock.

It was only a stray thought, but it quickly turned traitorous; all at once, D was hit with the depth of her dysphoria, plunged deep into confusion. Suddenly, her body wasn't right, harder than before. She was struck with an acute sense of not being right in her flesh. Without a word she shrugged off Marta's advances, pushed the woman away; any other day this would have been fine, but... not like this.

'Stop that,' She said quickly, trying her hardest not to sound hurt. In response, Marta simply held up her hand demonstratively, traceries of D's wetness still upon her fingers, glistening in the light. Another pang of oddness shot through the boi, and D turned her gaze away; tears threatened, eyes prickling, but this only made things worse. It was so absurd, such a girly reaction... her own body, rebelling against her. Only Marta's hand, laid gently and supportively on her shoulder, stopped them from flowing.

'You're going as a guy this Halloween,' She said. 'It's decided.'

'But I'm not one,' D answered, bitterness so harsh it could etch glass coating her voice. Even so, some small part of her cheered; just being this openly sour about her gender was a minor victory. She had never been able to so much as admit it to another before today...

'Halloween is a special night, where the lines between reality and fantasy blur. Where monsters roam the streets and all the hot girls dress up real slutty,' Marta paused long enough to tilt D's chin with her fingers, raising the boi's eyeline to hers. 'It's the one night of the year when you can be whoever you want to be with no consequences, and you're going to miss it? Hell no you're not, D!'

Her usual restless energy seemed to return to her, and Marta took up pacing the floor of her apartment as D watched from the couch. Normally the boi would be entirely too shy to people-watch this brazenly, but... so many lines had been crossed already today, and besides, Marta was too deep in thought to notice much.

'It's settled, my dapper gentleman,' She said finally, eyeing D with an appraising look. 'I'mma get you a costume! Leave it to me!'

**************

And so...

It had only taken Marta a shockingly small span of time to organize a costume for D; the boi got her summons a mere three days later, entering Marta's apartment to find a vast array of clothes, piled up and meticulously folded on her couch. Two small clothes horses had been set up at either side, bristling with trousers, jackets and shirts, lined up and seemingly arranged by color. When she saw it all, D shot Marta a questioning look; just how long did the blonde expect her to spend doing all this?

'Yeah, maybe I went a little overboard...' She shrugged in reply. 'But it's not like this cost me anything. Most of this stuff's either mine, or my dad's anyway.'

'Your dad has this many dinner jackets?' D couldn't help but express a little skepticism. 'This is approaching redundant levels of formalwear, Marta.'

'My dad's a tailor,' Again, that nonchalant shrug, this time replete with a little, curved grin. 'He used to use me as a model for some of his stuff when I was a teen, since I'm smaller than him. I think he knew I liked it though, I mean, he did have mannequins for that. Cool guy, my dad. Anyway, I raided his back room a bit.'

'A bit, or did you have to use a truck? Look at all this stuff!'

'I'm sorry I have a commitment to overachieving, D!' Marta leapt into the room, spending a moment selecting an appropriate pile before grabbing the first item from it- a tight black undershirt- before holding it up in front of D. 'Besides, we want to get this right, no? You'll see what I mean, just step into my parlor...'

D opened her mouth to try and argue back, vaguely unwilling to spend her time doing this; it was a waste of time, after all. There was a pile of books and video games back at her own apartment that beckoned, their pull terribly hard to resist. However, that look in Marta's eyes was far too familiar; it was the sparkle that had resulted in so many long shopping trips, so many repeat rehearsals of songs she particularly liked, so many, many things that would never have happened if not for those mischievous puppy dog eyes.

There was no escaping that...

'So what costume is this, anyway?' D sighed, the verbal equivalent of throwing up her hands and surrendering. It had very suddenly occurred to her that she had not, in fact, selected a costume herself; Marta had taken the reins immediately, and D herself had been happy enough to go on autopilot there... until now. What form would a costume chosen by Marta take?

'Depends on if you want to play Easy Mode or Hard Mode,' Marta grinned, digging through a pile of ties. 'Could do you up as Sebastian Michaelis, but I dunno how many folks out and about will even know who he is, though on the plus side he's kinda girly looking to begin with...'

She gave a momentary look over her shoulder to gauge her friend's reaction to this suggestion, quickly drawing her conclusion from the expression on D's face.

'Okay, maybe not. Which leaves us with Hard Mode...' Marta shot a playful wink over her shoulder. 'What do you say? Wanna try bein' Tony Stark?'

'What, Iron Man?'

'No, Tony Stark, because Robert Downey Junior is kind of awesome,' Marta lilted. 'That and he's my favorite Avenger. Problems?'

'So, just to be clear, we're basing this entire costume on what you enjoy?' D asked, holding her hands up. Marta spun around, arms filled with clothes, nodding like a madwoman.

'Yes!' She exclaimed, bouncing over to her. 'You want to make me happy, don't you D?'

'Sure, but-'

'Good boy,' With a winning smile, Marta leaned up on the tips of her toes and kissed D gently on the forehead. Immediately, all of D's potential protestations evaporated from her mind; the kiss had sent a chill down her spine, but the words had ensured that that chill drilled right down through her hips. There was an odd kind of excitement in the way Marta treated her.

'So...' With that out of the way, Marta circled D, eyes sweeping her form. Not for the first time lately, she felt like prey being circled by a wolf. With the blonde behind her, she jumped when she felt a hand on her ass, 'Okay, so you're kinda packing something back here, which I love, but it'll need to be covered if you're going to pass... So you'll need a longer shirt, some larger pants than your size...'

For the better part of two hours Marta whirled around her, with an endless succession of clothes to try on and model for the bright-eyed blonde, though none ever seemed to be quite good enough. The tailor's daughter had turned out to be quite the perfectionist, and even the most niggling of errors were enough for Marta to send her back to the bedroom to change.

'Broader shoulders!' She'd exclaimed spontaneously at one point, practically hurling herself into a collection of jackets in an attempt to rectify the situation. But D's shoulders were just the start; if it wasn't that it was her arms, or her hair, or her hips. Marta came at D like she was a sculpture, working her out of the raw material of her flesh, lining up her body to accentuate some areas while drawing attention away from others. Time ticked by, until finally, the girl seemed to have some sequence of clothes that she found acceptable. 

'There!' She said, stepping away and clasping her hands together, in silent victory. 'Go and put those on, and I'll see what I can do from there. Oh, and there's one more thing... here...'

D blinked, almost pulled away in surprise as Marta handed her something that must have been hidden below a neglected pile of clothes all this time; a pair of dark shorts with a hole at the crotch, through which protruded a fairly prominent flesh colored dildo.

'Something every man needs, and don't you argue with me on this point, D,' Marta's expression radiated challenge, demanding D's acquiescence. 'Now be a good boy some more, and try those on. I think we've got it just about down, now.'

D spent the first few minutes of her time alone puzzling over the fake cock that Marta had given her. It barely made sense; this was supposed to be a costume, right? What was the point of something that nobody- and D assured herself that nobody- would see? In fact, what was the point of this particular costume at all? Costumes are worn to be seen, clothing specifically designed to be projected outward but... what Marta had given her was too personal, too calibrated to a wavelength only D herself really knew. She held in her hands threads that spoke to the man that peeked out from behind her eyes, but how many people outside of her own head would even understand that such a man existed?

Nevertheless, disappointing Marta wasn't an option and so, with her silent contemplation over, D returned from the bedroom clad in a dark suit that felt just a little too big on her, with a tie pulled too tight and, down below, the strange weight of the strap on pressing against her thigh. 

Marta spent a few moments fussing over her latest project before she let D see the mirror, readjusting the tie and cuffs, and even, terrifyingly, resetting the plastic cock through the fabric of D's trousers. With the status of D's new dick now assured, the blonde finally ushered her charge over to the full length dress mirror she had procured and leaned against a wall on the far side of her living room.

'There now, look at you!' She giggled.

Even then, D was only afforded a moment or two to look upon herself and see... someone else staring back at her. Marta really could work wonders, and-

'No no, still not quite right...' The reverie snapped before it could even really get going, as the insistent pressure of Marta's hands attached themselves to D's shoulders. 'But it's not the clothes, it's you, D. You look the part, but men exist in a particular way... It's how you hold yourself... Lower how you hold your weight, toward your feet, that's right. Shoulders limp, but you're going for broad, and hang your arms... Chin up, you're a man, aren't you?! And your eyes, but this is a hard one to get right away... Look out with confidence. Like you can see shit, without bothering yourself with if anyone's looking back. Observe like you're the top dog, don't worry about being observed back... There you are, almost right. Take a look.'

With those few alterations, it was amazing how much more depth the illusion had; D began to feel like a different person, not just look like one. She stared at her own reflection, fine lined and graceful, her curves almost entirely eliminated and replaced with straight edges. Oh, there was still a hint of womanhood here and there; her hips couldn't be denied completely, and the swell of her breasts had only been diminished by the tight binder and well cut dark blue jacket she wore but... it was better than she had ever achieved before. It was... right, or as close to it as D felt she could ever get. 

With the clothes, the change in stance, and a rapidly approaching male gaze, finally the inside and the outside of her could achieve some level of synchronicity...

'You look the part,' With far more caution than D was used to from her, Marta's arms encircled her waist, the blonde's curvy body pressing against the facsimile of manhood that D had become. She could feel Marta's breasts against her back, soft lips on her neck as the blonde rose onto the tips of her toes... for a moment, D found herself wishing she could get an erection with that plastic dick down her pants. 

'You're awful handsome like this, D. I like it...' Her voice was soft now, almost a whisper. With a light, grazing touch, she kissed D's cheek, tongue flicking. By their reflection in the mirror, D could see the want in her own eyes, quick and solid and desperate and masculine; she wanted to feel what it would be like to be inside Marta, to hear the girl moan as her insides stretched to accommodate the girth of her cock. 

She wanted Marta to tell her just how much she wanted it...

'Thank you,' D whispered back, and not just for the compliment. This was all a little too much, too close to perfect... she heard the hitch in her voice all too clearly, felt the prickling in her eyes.

Come on... Real men don't cry...

'Hell, I'd do you...' But of course, Marta couldn't keep things serious for too long without causing herself internal damage, so she had to ruin the moment in its infancy, ripping a snort of laughter from D in the process. 

'Well, that's good to know,' She chuckled, adjusting her belt and the waistband of her pants. That would all take some getting used to...

'Ain't it? Anyway, I'm quite proud of how this turned out! You lookin' good, D. If I do say so myself,' Marta nodded in approval, though when she did so she was looking into her own eyes in the mirror, negating the effect somewhat. 'Very much in the Halloween spirit.'

'I think perhaps you have a different idea of the spirit of Halloween to most people.'

'Transcending the mask, D,' Marta persisted. 'The one night of the year where who you are underneath isn't so big a deal. Where you can project the image you want outward, instead of the one you're stuck with. Good thing we've taken all the good stuff inside of you and put it outside then, huh?'

'You're making me think of that fog that turns people inside out...' D grinned, before remembering. 'Hey, you never told me what you're going as, anyway.'

'That's true,' Marta answered, winking as she waded through the now discarded and wrinkled pile of rejected clothes. 'You'll see. Why spoil the surprise?'

************

That day, Marta had sent D away with her new costume packed up in plastic sheathes, and strict instructions to keep it free of wrinkles, as pristine as possible before the big day itself. Even after nodding along and promising, swearing up and down that she wouldn't so much as touch the costume before Halloween itself, the temptation to try it on again was hard to ignore. There had been something about the way she had looked in the mirror, something... not transformative, but metamorphic. 

In the past D had always figured her male self as something that she would need to shed her feminine self to fully embrace; sitting astride the binary like she was made her uncomfortable, it was only a natural conclusion to come to. One must be sacrificed to appease the other. But those clothes, that stance...

It wasn't the same...

In that one moment she had realized her male nature might not be as incompatible with her female body as she had thought. All the little touches and flourishes Marta had added to her, covering the parts that needed hiding, accentuating those that should be seen... it had made her better. The cock had been the perfect final touch, like a hood ornament for the new, manlier her; there was the potential there to be a far better man.




Open Question



But, not quite. After all, it was just for Halloween. Just a garish, impermanent little frippery that would be gone the morning after, leaving her back in a body that was that little bit out of synch with the rest of her. The escape would never be permanent, there were too many imperfections drawing her back; her voice was too high pitched, her curves would never properly fade away no matter what she wore, and always in the background, her femme side threatened to step to the fore at a moment's notice. She could never be a man, not with womanhood bouncing around the back of her skull.

And by Monday, everything would be back to normal...

Of course, the optimist in her pointed out that this meant she had an opportunity to grasp for the next few days at least; the costume was in her possession for now, there was no reason she couldn't don it in the privacy of her own home and, for a few hours at least, strive to recreate that magic moment in front of the mirror. And this she did on several occasions, knocking about her backroom in a full suit and tie, feeling in part like an escaped character from Mad Men, and as a consequence even lighting up a cigarette or two when she felt bold enough to ignore the threat the ash would have on the finery she wore.

But her more deeply entrenched cynical side marred even this private enjoyment, directing her mind solely to the notion that being a man in private rather defeated the purpose; she already knew she had this inner masculinity. The point was never for her to see it; the point was to be seen being it. To project to all the world what lay within her, wrapped up in layers of soft skin and curves. 

Very much in the spirit of Halloween...

The debate about actually taking this show on the road didn't go very far; without Marta's influence D lacked the courage to risk it. She could feel, in the back of her skull, that the first time she spoke with someone wearing that suit, without Marta around, and they called her "miss," or "ma'am," or something, it would be the end. The suit would go away, and she had no idea what Marta would have to do to convince her to try it again. This realization made her feel so frustratingly fragile, but it was the reality.

In fact, to guard against this outcome, she had called Marta with uncharacteristic timidity midway through the week to ask that the blonde give her a ride to the bar on the night in question; spending any amount of time outside, alone and in-costume was a risk she wasn't willing to take. For her part, Marta had cheerfully agreed, and with that taken into consideration D was far less hesitant about opening her door with her costume half arranged and only sporadically buttoned up; trick-or-treaters weren't so much of a risk in her neighborhood regardless. 

Marta's smiling face proved all the justification D needed for taking such a risk.

'What up, Dapper Dan?' Her grin shone with internal light as she swept into D's home, adjusting the boi's tie with an automatic, affectionate air. 'Lookin' just as good as the last time...'

'You're...' D blinked, eyes sweeping down Marta's pale blue shirt and the kind of shorts that were the very definition of not playing fair; her lovely toned legs seemed to go on forever because of them. 'Wait... You're Finn? Or Fionna?'

'I've got the hat in my backpack,' Marta grinned, throwing a thumb over her shoulder at the distinctive green bag attached to her back. 'But what does it even matter? Either way, it's Adventure Time!'

D giggled as Marta pumped her fist into the air as she cheered, but it struck her that this costume may not be entirely insignificant by itself. Without either Finn's or Fionna's hat, the costume was gender neutral; it seemed like either Marta herself was trying to say something, or she was simply toying with people, waiting to see how people reacted. 

At any rate, she seemed satisfied with D's noncommittal response.

Any further questions D might have had were quickly silenced, as Marta went into perfectionist mode again, fussing with D's costume until it had been reset into the same immaculate masculine perfection it had attained the first time she had worn it. She took a moment to peer into the mirror, applying Marta's lessons on posture and presentation one by one until they all settled into her frame like a kind of testosterone sediment, leaving her as pleasantly manly as the last time.

'You look great,' Marta supplied from behind her, leaning against the doorframe. 'Really, you do.'

'Still got my hips, though,' D answered skeptically, giving her butt a demonstrative shake at the mirror. 'And you can still see my tits through the shirt, no matter how much I bind.'

'That's because you're stacked!' Marta bounced the distance between them, looking at the two of them in the mirror as she ran her hand down the- admittedly now only slight- curve of D's breast, as if gauging how they looked together. 'You're kind of lucky that way, you know. You look hot as a boy and a girl, I bet... Not like me. I can't get the guy side down, even if I bother trying...'

'Come on...' D dropped her gaze down to the soft touch now running down her shirt, but notably, not even attempting to remove Marta's fingers. 'I have a hard time imagining you failing at anything.'

A moment of silence, as Marta's expression wavered infinitesimally, a quake of emotion that D couldn't quite place from the reflection alone, before...

'Anyway, let's get going, shall we?' That glittering smile returned. 'I want to show you off before the show...'

D couldn't help but stiffen at the last word; the show...

Perhaps it had been at the back of her mind all along, perhaps that was the reason her cynical side had been trying so hard to stomp her dreams for this evening down. She would be up on stage... dressed like this... with people watching...

It was hard enough to go through that just being butch, or whatever else they wanted to call her. She just tried to stop the catcalls and snatches of overheard conversations get her down. Drinking helped.

She experienced a moment of panic; how many of them would see through her? Would she even be able to stand that, now? Her best effort, the best she'd ever looked... if it failed, what would she do?

'Ah, no. I know that look, boy,' Marta draped an arm over D's shoulders, guiding her gently but firmly toward the door. 'You're not bugging out on me in the last minute. You'll do great, you'll see. Now, come on...'

D was silent the entire ride in, as the suburbs transformed gradually into the more densely packed city streets. The bustling new setting brought with it a multitude of eyes; rationally D knew they weren't looking at her specifically, but rationality rarely ruled when emotions could so easily come into play. Out in the waning light of the afternoon, D began to feel transparent, like even the most cursory glance could see right to the heart of her. Every set of eyes brought judgment, and every judgment deemed her false.

It was almost a mercy when they reached the bar.

It wasn't the kind of place D would usually frequent; the crowd was too loud, and too numerous, the atmosphere too grungy, appealing more to the college crowd than her type. She would feel too exposed being there as a patron, surrounded by the rowdy summation of countless weekends just beginning. Her confidence would collapse in on itself.

But that was the miracle of the stage, really; it was the one place where she could be herself without fear of exterior judgment. On the stage she wasn't just another person, she was a music delivery system. Yes there were a lot of eyes on her then, but when she was playing with the band she ceased to matter to them; they weren't looking at her, they were looking at the band, and besides, they had far more important things to look to when she was playing. Their drinks or partners, the cute girl at the bar... all D became was a silhouette in the spotlights holding a guitar. Yes, the guitar was a shield, but behind it, D could play, and move around the stage as though nobody was watching; invisible in a sea of people. The boi in plain sight.

It was odd, but she felt almost natural, there...

Of course, of course, Marta took the opposite tack; she spent most of the show behind her drums, at the back of the stage, and yet she still managed to garner the most attention of all, even eclipsing their singer. There was something to her enthusiasm that just attracted the eye.

Marta bounced ahead as they filed inside, acting very much like her costume's fictional counterpart. Daley the bassist, habitually early, was already waiting in the back when they arrived, and he grinned widely as Marta approached.

'Nice Fionna costume!' He chuckled, flaring the collar of his distinctive red jacket.

'People always forget that Finn has long hair too,' Marta sighed, bundling it up as best she could before hooding it beneath the requisite white, bear-eared hat. 'And what is that, Kaneda? How many years ago was Akira, Daley?'

'I like Akira...'

D tuned out the rest of the conversation, for the most part; she was more interested in Marta, anyway. Now that she had actually shown off what she had picked... all D could do was look for hidden meanings. She had gone as a boy too; what was she trying to say? Was this solidarity, or something else? Had she even really thought about it, or just chosen to dress as something she enjoyed?

This was the problem with having to deal with this kind of double life; one was always overanalyzing everything that happened. It was impossible to just let things wash over her, when she was always having to hide something about herself.

But Marta was always so free. Some people had all the luck, even with their queerness.

As the rest of the band filtered in, and the sounds of activity began to fill the bar beyond the backroom, D's nerves began to rise once more. The reactions of her ban members, mostly quizzical and amused, had been hard enough to take, but then... this was only serious to her; to everyone else her appearance would just look like a silly costume. 

Which was an idea D wasn't sure she liked; whatever anyone thought, this was serious. Looking like this, feeling like this... it was only a part of the attraction. It meant very little if all anyone else saw was a veneer covering the girl beneath. Being seen was important. But the moment she went up on stage, the façade would crack. 

What would happen then?

'Alright gentlemen,' Marta waved the crew over from the door, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The moments before a show always left the blonde feeling energized, 'Let's get to this thing. One rule that matters, as always: don't fuck up.'

After that, it all happened at once; the stage was taken, D took up her guitar, and the music began to flow like wine. This was the way it had always been; while comfortable in practice, D found herself with a feeling as though she was just barely hanging onto her competency whenever she performed live. There was no time to think, no time to feel embarrassed... all there was was the music. Yes, there were people watching her, but as usual the sound was a cloak; she couldn't hear them... all they were was silhouettes in the distance. 

But all that changed in the moment of silence following one song and before the next, as the set wound down toward its end. Marta took a swig from the beer she had set down beside herself, before standing up and pointing over the top of her drum kit.

'Hey, let's do Survive, next,' She grinned, rolling her shoulder to loosen the muscles, drawn tight and aching by a flawlessly performed solo in the last song. 'And I think D should sing it.'

'What?' D blinked, swinging around fast enough to tangle her feet in the cords, tripping awkwardly a few steps toward the grinning blonde.

'Yeah,' She replied, nodding. 'Everyone else sings, D. Even if it's just backing. But I've never really seen you get into it. I'd like to.'

'But I don't-'

'Come on. You know the words! Loosen up!' Marta's expression shifted, going from a wide, amused smile to a more reassuring, encouraging one; less teeth, more softness. 'You can do it.'

'Marta, I've never done that before for a reason...'

'Well shit, D, unless you want me to start playing Dude Looks Like a Lady, you'd better nut up,' She winked. 'We do have a gap in the setlist, after all...'

'You did this on purpose,' D accused, the realization dawning on her that Marta may be more of an evil genius than she understood.

'Possibly, but it doesn't change the facts,' The blonde's sly voice was low, just for D now. 'C'mon, I'll buy you a drink if you do it. Fuck, I'll buy you ten drinks, whatever. Just step up to the mike, boy...'

There was a sense of impending doom about this that D couldn't shake; yet another one of those things that Marta simply wouldn't be swayed on. In fact, this entire day was Marta's doing; ever since they had first spoken about costumes, all D had been doing was allowing herself to be swept along in Marta's wake. Why would that change now? Perhaps it was best simply to give the girl what she wanted; at least it'd be interesting.

To a point...

D had steady hands- a guitarist had to- yet she couldn't dispel the slight tremble that overtook them as she stepped up to the microphone. Normally she didn't have much trouble with public speaking, but this was different; D made no bones about her lack of a singing voice. She wasn't bad, or she never would have done as Marta asked at all; no, the word was unpracticed.

But, as Marta sat back down at her drums, D knew her chance to back out had long since retreated. As the first notes spilled out from the rest of the band, she took hold of her guitar; at the very least, she could perform her best on that count.

Her vocal performance wasn't up to the level of their actual singer, but then, there was no expectation that it would be. D allowed herself to cast her eyes around during the lengthy solo she had toward the end of the song, and found that she was surrounded by nothing but supportive expressions, on all sides. Not from the front, certainly; all the audience was experiencing was her shaky singing, but the people around her, the ones that mattered, were all there to bolster her. It was quite the feeling. 

As the song wound down, the applause D received was noticeably more hesitant than it had been for the rest of the set. D couldn't help but blush as she stepped back from the mike for the last song of the night, safe in the knowledge that she would be behind her curtain of sound again soon. However, the feeling was tainted by attention this time; D's span in the spotlight had made her all too aware of the eyes again. There was nothing she could do to stop the creeping feeling of falseness that rose up her spine, making her feel like she was a teenager again, raiding her brother's closet for men's shirts and pants that wouldn't show off her ass. 

'Why did you make me do that, Marta?' She asked after the show, as they sat at a table at the back of the bar, secluded away from the rest of the patrons. As the night had worn on, their table had become increasingly dotted with empty bottles, and now the two of them peered over their little collection.

'I wanted to see you put yourself out there,' Marta shrugged, sliding her chair around the curve of the table to get closer to D, no longer obscured by the mess.

'Well, mission accomplished, I guess,' D allowed herself to stretch out, her normally compact and hunched in body language giving way to the far more masculine expansiveness that Marta had taught her. 'But why like that? You should know I can't really sing.'

'Ah, but the singing wasn't the point, grasshopper...' She leaned in, discarded her hat with one hand and pointed D toward the bar, specifically to a pair of men that had, until that very moment, been surreptitiously watching them from across the floor. They quickly pretended they hadn't been, the second they had been caught, 'Listen.'

'So, the blonde's pretty cute,' One of the men said, as D focused in on his conversation mid-stream. 'But she's with that guy, I guess.'

'Well, at least the dude's cute,' His friend added. 'That makes it a little better.'

D blinked, and looked askance to Marta, who simply smiled mysteriously and directed her attention to the table next to them, where a group of women sat with their back to the pair. Their voices rose and fell in a tide of mostly illegible noise, but D could pick the occasional sentence out of the chaos.

'Hey, what was up with that guy they got to sing at the end, there?' One said, during a lull in the conversation. 'His voice was kind of high pitched, wasn't it?'

There was a series of agreements, as their conversation took a new turn, but before D could eavesdrop some more, Marta turned her attention to yet another group, talking away further down the bar, their conversation moving to the band as one of them gestured toward Daley, who was chatting up a woman in a corner. As D listened, they too made reference to the boi guest singer, and one thing stood out there, as it had with the others:

Male pronouns.

'You, my good sir, passed,' Marta smiled warmly, laying a hand on D's shoulder. The boi turned, eyes wide, as Marta continued, 'Welcome to manhood, I guess.'

All at once, D lunged at Marta, enclosing the blonde in her arms, hugging her tightly. Marta's soft body pressed against her, wrinkling her suit, but she hardly cared about that; a sense of joy she had never felt before had welled up in her, and it was all thanks to Marta. All at once, her body slid into synch with her mind for the first time, and though it felt like an elusive state that she might spend weeks or months trying to recapture, D was overjoyed to be experiencing it now. She savored every second of it, tried to commit the feeling to memory; out there, people could look in, and what they saw matched what she felt. She had leapt the binary. Balanced out her number. 

For the first time in her life, D felt like she had stopped being a zero, and become a one.

'Whoa now, this is kinda nice,' Marta said, and though her words were jovial, her voice had dropped into a soft, almost tender register. D could feel her return the hug, warm arms at her back, those strong muscles ever present.

'You're the best,' D whispered, when she felt she could trust herself to speak clearly.

'I know that,' Marta's lips grazed D's cheek. 'But it's nice to hear it from someone else occasionally.'

The moment stretched on a while longer, and in it D allowed her imagination to take flight. If anyone was watching, what did they see? When they saw this, did they think Marta was hugging her boyfriend? Or did it just seem like a friendly hug? What kind of man did D come across as? She felt sure she had the goofiest smile on her face. 

But of course, like all pleasant moments, this one fell away, and D allowed herself to be gently pushed back into her seat by Marta. The blonde was still smiling, and there was a definite, adorable blush cresting her cheeks. When D noticed and shot her a quizzical look, she turned away.

'Anyway,' She said, as if to change a subject that hadn't yet been broached. 'Now you don't need to drink to forget tonight, at least. So allow me to propose a new plan: let us drink to celebrate, my friend, your first day of manliness. Onward!'

And with that, the blonde drained the last of her drink, leaping up to obtain more. With Marta's enthusiasm returned, the night seemed far longer to D than it might otherwise have been.

But now, that actually seemed like a good thing.

**************

Which led inexorably to...

Though Marta's presence certainly went some way to alleviating D's concerns about waking up naked and shackled to a bed, she still found herself pulling uselessly at the restraints that had, thus far, kept her firmly anchored. 




Open Question



'Sorry, those are pretty cheap cuffs,' Marta smiled apologetically, and D couldn't help that her eyes went to the bare curve of her breasts, still mostly hidden by black fabric. 'I've got some ointment you can use later, the metal does tend to rub up against the skin something terrible.'

Still gagged, D could do very little to question, or argue a counterpoint to Marta's strange level of confidence. If it had been anyone else this situation would have been terrifying to her, but with Marta she had to admit that her initial reaction was one of curious confusion. The handcuffs weren't ideal, nor was the gag; kinky though they were, they weren't terribly conducive to conversation, which was what D desired, to a certain degree. She did like where this was going, though; she would have to have been a fool to not see that things between them were heading here. After all, this past week had turned Marta into a much more physical being to D, far more affectionate and, well... soft. It had had the sole effect of intensifying every fantasy D had ever had about the blonde. 

'So, I figured you'd never really work up the courage to jump my bones on your own,' Marta continued, licking her lips. 'After all, I pretty much threw myself at you the other day and you blew me off... and not in the fun way. You're still hung up on the boy thing, I get that... but sometimes a gal just wants to take things into her own hands, you know. And you are into me, I know.'

She made sure to add a showy little shake of her butt, resplendent in her tight shorts as she sat on the side of the bed. D's eyes gravitated toward her, slipping down the graceful curves of her body, but in this close proximity she could hardly enjoy it; she realized quite suddenly that she was naked in front of one of her best friends. Automatically, she found herself shrinking away, unable to so much as turn from Marta, bound as she was.

'Now, that mouth of yours really does seem better suited to other things, so are you gonna be cool if we lose the gag?' Marta didn't touch her, didn't do anything but sit beside her. It struck D as something of a pity; she nodded her response. Even without the obvious benefit of being able to speak, her jaw was starting to ache. 

'Doesn't all this seem a bit much?' D said, as the gag came out, running her tongue around the inside of her mouth.

'Nah, because you'd squirm too much if I got you naked normally, all those curves and tits and such,' Marta grinned. 'Besides, you know I look incredible like this, admit it.'

'Okay, yeah,' She admitted, after a pause to determine whether or not Marta was joking. With that out of the way, any residual tension in Marta's body dissipated, and D got the feeling that she had been fearing rejection, or at the very least hoping for approval. She might have been one to take the bull by the horns here, but D doubted that Marta would proceed further without her okay. It was a testament to their trust that D could end up naked and tied and still not fear for her safety.

'You got pretty drunk last night,' Marta grinned, tossing a gesture over her shoulder at the carpet of her bedroom, strewn with empty bottles- the number of which made D refuse to believe that Marta hadn't contributed herself- and the wrinkled components of her costume. 'So I brought you back here. Seemed safer, and closer too.'

Seeing the same clothes she had worn the night before scattered about the room was oddly disconnecting, to D. She could hardly believe they had all come together like they had, and done what they had for her. Her body had been properly hers for the first time in years, on that one special night where the lines blurred, but now... the spell had broken. It was all just clothes again, fabric and buttons and zippers, scattered and powerless. It made her maleness seem more illusory than ever before, something she could only ever have grasped on Halloween.

Just a costume...

'Why are you doing this?' D asked hoarsely, if just to draw her mind away from the idea that she might only be able to feel as free as she did last night once a year. In truth she hardly minded Marta doing this, but it felt right to ask...

'Two kind of pressing reasons, right now...' She practically purred in response. 'One, I'm wet. And two, you want to see me naked, no?'

Without even thinking, D nodded, eyes glued to Marta's; the blonde laughed at the boi's sheer, automatic honesty, before winking and obliging her new paramour. She slid her hoodie off her shoulders, the already loose-fitting and open garment coming away easily, pooling on the floor beside the bed. Not that D even noticed, of course; her eyes were stuck on Marta's chest, taking in the gentle peaks of her breasts capped with a pair of pale pink nipples that practically begged to be touched. Enjoying the attention, Marta shot D a lopsided grin.

'Okay, someone likes what she sees, that's good,' She said, giggling. 'But listen, I ain't just doing this to get you off. No, that's just kind of a bonus, really. See, I feel like I need to clarify something from last night... you don't seem to be getting the message...'

D's body was still tied down, but even that couldn't prevent her from twitching as Marta's weight pressed down upon her, the blonde deciding to straddle her, leaning in so her breasts pressed against the boi's and the two of them were face to face. Their first kiss was soft and abrupt, over so quickly D could hardly be sure it had happened at all. But she felt the next one...

'You are not your body...' Marta whispered, her hot breath caressing D's cheek. 'And that suit did not make you any more of a man.'

She let the words hang for a moment, so that D could interpret them as she pleased. Of course, it would have worked far better if D could think at all, much less even function adequately as her body could do nothing but soak in the proximity of Marta's own half naked form. 

It wouldn't have been so bad, but the crotch of those boy shorts was right above D's pussy, and every time she moved... Marta would be lucky to come away without wet pants, here...

'Nor does being naked like this make you any more of a woman, or less of a man. It just makes you D,' She continued, when it became clear that more words were needed to raise D from her stupor. Her eyes focused again, following as Marta sat up, the motion adding extra pressure to D's hips; the boi found herself pressing up against Marta's automatically. 

'These aren't indicators of who you are,' Marta's hands slid down D's collarbone, fingers conforming to the contours of her body as they raised over the peaks of her breasts, stopping once her palms covered the majority of them. 'But they are real hot, boy. I like them. And I bet they're sensitive...'

When she winked this time, D knew she was gone; the expression was so charged and electric she was certain they would have sex now. It was just something that would happen, the pair had become locked in each other's gravity, the collision was inevitable. Before it had seemed like a delicate balance, something she could screw up with a misplaced word or twitch of her body, that would either throw Marta off her game or send D herself spinning into realms of dysphoria hereby unknown to her. But not now.

When Marta leaned down and took one of D's nipples between her teeth, this only deepened her certainty in this concept.

Embarrassingly feminine nerves twanged with the contact, drawing out the girliest of moans from D's throat. She only barely had the presence of mind to feel strange about that, the pressure of Marta's teeth set her hips rocking, heat stoked in the core of her. It only lasted a few seconds in totality, but when Marta pulled away D found her back arching to recapture the touch.

'See?' Marta winked, licking her lips. 'Sensitive. Which is just perfect for my purposes.'

She lapsed into silence, then; for the time being she seemed quite happy to merely sit ther, straddling her captured boi, looking into her eyes. But D couldn't handle that; without Marta's intoxicating sensuality on full display, without that crucial distraction, she found herself settling back down into her body. A sort of self conscious heat flooded her, as the knowledge that she was naked in front of her friend began to take on its old, awkward edge. Of course, Marta picked up on this immediately, her eyes narrowing.

'This is still super-weird for you, isn't it?' She said, a slight pout on her lips. It quickly lapsed into a grin, 'Lucky for you I do plan for everything, my boy...'

As Marta climbed off of the bed, D began to wonder if she had made the wrong choice in allowing her emotions to show so clearly on her face. Over the years she had become adept at hiding this part of her, obscuring the brewing dissatisfaction she had with her body... why let it come to the fore now? 

Of course, the contrast now was so vivid; only the night before she had been practically transformed, her outside miraculously matching her insides better than it had at any other time previously. But all of a sudden, morning had come and the magic had faded; like everyone else, she had had to shed her Halloween covering, and return to the real world. If only her real world hadn't been so unsatisfying...

Marta's expression indicated an acceptance of D's strange attitude, but that she only treated it as a challenge, not the showstopper that it felt like to the boi. At any rate, it didn't suppress the blonde's bouncy nature, and she hummed to herself as she picked through the drawers of her dresser, eventually coming up with what she wanted. She spun on the balls of her feet, showing off her find to D with a flourish; D's eyes widened.

'So, I figured you might be one to appreciate this,' Marta grinned. 'But frankly, I can't imagine why you didn't think of it yourself. Or maybe you did, it's kinda private. Who knows. Anyway, this one is mine, but if you lift your butt I can strap it on, maybe give you a new experience.'

In moments she was back atop D, looping the glossy black straps around her captive's hips and pulling them tight. It was clear that Marta had had substantial practice at this, and before D knew it, she was sporting a much more impressive rubber cock. She had worn one before, last night, but... this was different. Her last experience had been a somewhat stealthy one, her male prosthesis obscured from the outside world, worn solely for the benefit of its wearer. 

Here, she was naked; there was nothing to hide behind, but by the same measure, nothing to be hidden. The strap on stood erect, almost proud in an odd way, and D could feel the enthusiasm boiling out of Marta just to look at her; if nothing else, this was a safe place. 

'You see?' Marta winked. 'But that's not all. Just imagine what a cute little widget like myself could do to you now...'

And then she did something that made every sexual part of D's body twitch.

Her head dipped low, tongue extending to lick up the shaft of the strap on from base to tip, in a single fluid motion. D's reaction seemed so silly to her; she couldn't feel it, it wasn't even attached to her, but in her mind the cock twitched. The attention Marta paid to it set her nerves aflame. The wicked gleam in the blonde's eyes only made things better.

Her entire life, D had never found a person that seemed to appreciate her in the way Marta did. Whether it was a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or whatever else, this had never happened to her before; the people she had been intimate with had only enjoyed her feminine side. And she had done her best to give it to them when they desired it- a relationship involved compromise, after all- but every time it had happened she truly felt like a square peg being forced into a round hole. It had tainted her sexuality in many ways, poisoned the well; sex and compromise had become intertwined. She had become accustomed to the idea that she would never get the complete package in the bedroom.

But Marta didn't feel like a mismatch. Wearing this strap on was the closest she had ever come to maleness in a sexual context... and she was still here. Not only that, but her interest hadn't waned; her long fingers had wrapped around the shaft of D's cock, running up and down it in a gesture loaded with meaning, though it was technically useless. D's eyes were glued to her, watching intently as her mouth ran the length of the cock once more, before her lips captured the tip, tightening around it as she dipped.

A shiver went down D's spine; there was a beautiful, insistent pressure to Marta's initial downward thrust, pushing the base of the dildo against just the right spot on D's crotch. It began as a faint tracery of pleasure, growing by the second, and D wouldn't have been at all surprised if this had been a part of Marta's design. Regardless, D went along with it, her hips moving almost automatically to grind against the questing shaft. Her eyes remained locked down, endlessly fascinated by the visual of getting her cock sucked. It felt wonderfully right; she must have been smiling, as Marta's eyes flicked up to her, the blonde's open and sucking mouth curved into a smile too. 

Her golden hair flowed down her bare back, the visual endlessly fascinating to the trapped boi, as she watched Marta's head bob, alternating slow strokes to fast ones. She found herself aching for Marta to untie her, to allow her to touch her, run her hands through that long hair, over her chin as she sucked; she felt freer than ever in bondage... she could only imagine how free she would feel completely unbound.

'I'm no scientist,' Marta said, licking her lips as she pulled off of D's cock. 'But I'm getting the distinct idea that you like this.'

'More,' D answered quickly, her voice hoarse with lust; in the back of her mind she realized she sounded more manly now than ever before. Marta had strolled into the room and changed everything, apparently.

'Say it right, boy,' Marta winked. The little gesture coursed through her, D knew immediately what needed to be said, and something in her twisted with pleasure.

'Suck my cock,' D couldn't help the twitch of a grin that crested her features at that. Some sentences were just dreams, things she had spent most of her life yearning to be able to say in earnest, and that was most definitely one of them. She felt compelled to continue, 'Suck me, Marta.'

'That's more like it,' Marta rewarded D with a showy twirl of the tongue around the tip of her cock, before she dove back down it with gusto. D had only ever been on the other side of this engagement in the past- much to her regret- and, for a bizarre moment, she couldn't help but compare herself to Marta; there was an enthusiasm in the blonde that D could never hope to match. But then, that was hardly surprising; every man D had ever been with had the expectation that they were fucking a woman, after all. 

D was on the other side now, and she felt strangely at home; this was exactly what she had always wanted. This was... freeing, in so many ways, she could relax during sex for the first time. For once, she could indulge; Marta had no expectation that she would act in a certain way, present herself in a mask she was uncomfortable with. Marta didn't just accept D in the skin she chose to wear, she loved it. 

Not to mention, the blonde had clearly had practice at this; she took the tip of D's cock to the back of her throat with nary a hint of a gag, moaning all the way like this was the most fun she had had in weeks. When she pulled herself away from the cock, the smile she gave D almost melted the boi's heart.

'You like that?' The blonde purred, eyes burning with sultry energy. Her fingers slid deftly beneath the straps between D's legs, 'I know you do. You're wet as hell, D. I can feel it.'

All at once, D's mind and body were at war, and she squirmed. The mere mention of her wetness pushed open the door to her dysphoria that had been slammed shut by Marta's rubber gift, the experience jarring, except... Marta's body was so soft, so hot, and her touch was so skilled... pleasure rippled through her body all the same, and whether it was feminine pleasure or not, D couldn't help but feel it.

'Oh, stop that,' Always perceptive, Marta picked up on D's distress immediately, giving the boi a soft poke in her bare stomach. 'Yeah, you got girly parts too, it's not like they're useless to you. Besides, I can work with both sides of you... I want both sides. Remember, you aren't your body, but your body can get off like a rocket if you touch it just right...'

After a single demonstrative flick of her fingertip across D's clit, Marta withdrew her hand, shifting position while keeping her eyes locked on her captive's. The bed creaked beneath them as she moved, rising up, the curves of her waist catching the oddly angled sunlight streaming in through her window. As she moved, she gestured down, and D's eyes followed, hypnotized; as if by magic, the blonde's shorts had been removed, leaving D with the intoxicating view of Marta's pussy, hovering wonderfully close to the tip of her cock. D had a sudden, intense desire to move her hips.

'Well, boy?' Marta's slick smile sent a chill down D's spine even now, eyes glittering with a lust that had, so far, gone unfulfilled. 'What do you want? Are you going to take it? Come on, D... be a man...'

Marta's back curved, bringing her closer to D, those pert breasts pressing against the boi's; there was a challenge in the blonde's eyes that was undeniable, and impossible to ignore. D couldn't help but feel vaguely offended; first Marta had given D her masculinity, and now she was questioning it? What was that about? Oh, it was all so easy for her...

Without thinking, D's hips tilted upward, and Marta moaned in surprise and sensation, as the boi's new cock filled her to the hilt. D could feel the muscles in her hips tighten, a shudder running through her as the boi simply enjoyed the feeling of their bodies together. The contradiction and the undecided...

'Fuck, boy!' Marta gasped, exhaling a vocalization of visceral pleasure through her teeth, grinding her hips against D's. 'That's how you fuckin' do it! God!'

'Untie me,' D growled, suddenly feeling like a tsunami of testosterone had flooded her body. That lovely feeling of synchronicity was back, but this time it had brought with it a throbbing desire that D had never before been able to obtain. A male desire, not the passively feminine one that she had allowed to mold her into whatever her previous lovers had wanted. This was a stabbing thing, a desire to take, to rip control of the situation from Marta. To do, not just be done unto. Her hips scythed upward in answer, driving her cock deep into the blonde's open cunt.

'Untie me right fucking now,' She repeated, and with a joyful giggle that lapsed into breathless panting Marta's hands reached up above D's head, the cuffs clicking metallically as they were removed. Though her ankles were still locked down, D felt no desire to interrupt the flow of proceedings simply to make things that little bit easier. Instead, her arms flew up the moment she was free, wrapping around Marta's back and drawing the blonde in for a searing, invasive kiss. This time, it was D's tongue that pushed quickly into Marta's mouth.

'Man enough for you?' D asked, panting between breathless kisses, as every wall the two of them had broke down into a morass of physical closeness and sheer heat. Both were unwilling to let the other go for even a single moment; they floated together, beyond their bodies but slammed unbearably into their skin. D didn't- couldn't- care about the wetness of her pussy, or the throb in her clit... her breasts, her hips, her ass... none of it mattered in the moment. She was defined by her nerves and the pleasure soaring through them every second; no longer a being of components, but a glorious sexual whole, exactly the identity she wanted. She was anything, everything she desired, moment to moment. 




Open Question



She was a fraction, flowing down a line of numbers without end; split infinitesimally small, down to the last numeral. Defined as closely as she wanted to be. 

One or zero, what did it matter? Right now, she was he. Later, that might change. Whatever, Marta seemed to like it...

The pair worked in tandem, and for once D felt the need to do more than allow her partner to dictate the pace; even as Marta bounced, rising and falling atop D's cock, the boi was driven to aid the rhythm, pushing up with her hips so hard it rattled the chains anchoring her to the foot of the bed. In the moment that they were together, before they split apart in preparation for the next thrust, Marta would gasp and D would groan, the latter's sound more masculine, voice shifting to deeper registers as she settled into her newfound role. D's hands settled on Marta's hips, fulfilling a subconscious desire to dictate the pace of their fucking; with a wink, Marta took the message on board and slowed herself to D's preferred speed.

But D's palms itched, and her eyes seemed to have developed their own male gaze, slipping from the blonde's eyes to her chest, enjoying the soft bounce of her breasts as she moved, breathing deeply. Suddenly, the itch in her palms had a target.

'Come here,' D grunted, thrusting in deeply, the sensation turning Marta pliable enough for D to pull her in close, curving her down so that they were face to face again. Now, the blonde's heaving chest was so tantalizingly close, 'You say you like my tits, Marta? I guess I'm a breast man too...'

And at that, D's fingers captured Marta's nipple, stroking that pink bud, squeezing it. When she tugged on it, everything slowed; Marta was trapped in position, inexorably attracted to D's touch, but unable to get the same range of movement from her current position. So she lay near flat against D, her back arched to allow the boi's hands enough room to touch her chest, rocking her hips back and forth in small, circular motions, sodden pussy hungrily enveloping D's cock over and over.

A part of D had wanted to make this more... rough. To blast apart the gender binary that had made her so uncomfortable in the past, but this... the positioning of Marta's hips as she moved rubbed the base of her cock right against the clit beneath it, sending pleasure rumbling through D's body. The sensation was addictive; it completed the picture, turned the strap on from prosthesis into something real. D found herself rising higher and higher, electricity climbing her spine as she considered the idea that she'd be cumming inside a woman for the first time...

'Hey D?' Marta's voice trembled when she spoke.

'Yeah?'

'I'm gonna- ooh... I'm gonna cum on your cock, boy...'

'Shit, Marta...' D panted. 'Fuckin' do it... Fuck me...'

The blonde added a degree of direct force to her downward thrusts, the muscles in her thighs and hips rippling with the effort of it. It only added to the pressure on D's clit, her juices leaking down her legs- no, not juices... precum...

The thought made D imagine the tip of her cock going off in Marta's pussy, filling her up with cum, marking her insides with the boi's seed... and the image set her off. Her pussy clenched down on nothing, but it went ignored; though her clit buzzed with pleasure, it was D's cock that twitched, the boi pushing into Marta as deeply as possible, tugging on her nipples tightly to keep the blonde anchored in place. Unable to move any further, Marta ground her pussy desperately on D's cock, a series of gasps arcing higher and higher, soft body trembling.

The moment seemed to freeze, in a place where nothing else mattered, and the body stopped being important for anything more than its pleasure. As she came, D was just D, on fire, falling apart, shaking, grunting deep in her throat. Her muscles were tight, as she felt Marta's back arch, her bust pressed into D's chest, breath fluttering in her throat. The blonde's orgasm was a delicious, feminine thing, her cheeks blooming red as she came all over D's cock. A shudder rippled through D as she felt Marta's wetness trail down the shaft of her cock to drip onto her bare skin. 

D didn't know how long it went on for, or who started or finished first, but it hardly mattered. As she came down her hands left Marta's naughty bits, going to hold the blonde as her toes uncurled and her muscles unwound into a state of relaxation. They stayed like that for some undetermined amount of time that might as well have been eternity, completely oblivious to the demands of the day. There was no talking, no moving... nothing, but the lush aftershocks of pleasure that occurred whenever Marta moved with D's dick still inside her.

The boi knew instinctively that this feeling could never last. As enabling as Marta was, she would never be free of her dysphoria, not completely anyway. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Marta had been born without any such conflict within herself. Some people were lucky like that, but in the moment it didn't matter. What she had obtained today wouldn't fade, the triumph of now would remain etched in her, a memory indelibly linked to Marta. 

'Hey Marta?' D said eventually, despite her unwillingness to really let the moment end. She shifted a little, under the blonde, 'I think I might have bruised my ankle in the... excitement.'

'Oh, right?' Marta blinked, grinning sheepishly and lifting herself up onto her hands. 'Do you want me to let you out, then?'

Only then did Marta lift herself up off of D's cock, and a moment later the boi could see what their enthusiastic fucking had done to the rubber; from tip to base the shaft glistened, coated in a sticky layer of Marta's arousal. It functioned as the perfect capper to a morning filled with discoveries. 

'Sorry about the cuffs, D,' Marta said without turning around, as she worked to undo the chains on D's ankles. 'It was probably a pretty shitty thing to do, especially since you passed out...'

'No, it's okay. I had fun...' D smiled, arching her back to stretch her muscles. 'Thank you, Marta.'

'What, for fucking you? Believe me, I got mine on that deal.'

'Don't be frustrating,' D prodded her with her one free foot. 'Thank you for fucking me like I needed to be fucked. It was... you were...'

'I know,' Her task complete, Marta swung back around, draping herself over the bed beside D. She ran her hand over the peaks and valleys of the boi's body, eventually arriving at that sticky erection, 'You can keep this, if you want.'

'I really do,' The words slipped out before D had even given them a thought. She added, conscientiously, 'Are you sure?'

'It suits you better. Like your costume,' Marta sighed, bouncing up off of the bed suddenly. 'Speaking of, I'm betting you're still in a manly mood, studly. Let me dress you again!'

Unable to stop herself from grinning, D allowed Marta to drag her over to the closet, that full length mirror beside it promising so much, a world of possibilities that Marta's skill set could provide. The blonde practically disappeared headfirst into the rack of clothes, mumbling to herself in a voice that ranged in pitch from low to high, a new energy infusing it. Eventually, she returned, cocking an eyebrow; in the period of time Marta had spent with her back turned, D had retrieved the black hoodie the blonde had worn initially, donning it in a similar manner. She kept the zip undone, bare skin beneath it.

'You look good like that,' Marta winked. 'But as much as I absolutely hate myself for saying so, you should probably wear some pants. I got some nice ones, see?'

'Those are nice...' D nodded her approval, scooping them out of Marta's hands. Habitually, she turned around to put them on, showing off her ass to the blonde in the process; Marta stared, biting her lip, 'Have you considered maybe doing this for a living? You're kind of... awesome, at it.'

'I do do this for a living,' Marta giggled. 'I work with my dad, in his store. Don't give me that look, you never asked. I've had some experience dressing folk like you and I, boy.'

'Oh, so I didn't pop your tailoring cherry,' D said absently, taking the belt Marta proffered and looping it about her waist. 'I don't know how I feel about that. Disappointed, maybe. I thought I was special.'

'Well you know...' Though her back was turned, D could hear Marta shifting her weight from foot to foot on the hardwood floor. 'It doesn't have to be the only time...'

'You wanna be my tailor, huh?'

'Ah hell... you want to do something, D? Dinner, or something?' When Marta smiled next, it was a vaguely sheepish thing, as close to vulnerable as the blonde got. 'I didn't just do all this to fuck you, you know.'

'Should have known you'd have an ulterior motive,' The boi's heart skipped a beat. 'You want me as your-'

'Boyfriend, sure,' Marta completed the sentence, and from her it sounded like an affirmation, a sign of acceptance outside of a sexual context. As if D even needed to hear it.

'Or girlfriend,' D heard herself say in return, barely believing it. There were times when saying such things would have put her in a funk for hours, 'I feel like I could grow to like being fraction-curious. So long as you're there to back me up. I'd like to be an adorable genderqueer couple. With you.'

Marta blushed at the mere thought, and it was so endearing that D found herself being dragged in by sheer magnetism, forced to reach out and kiss her. It was different than before, it lacked the urgency or smothering closeness of their earlier, hormonally charged kiss... but gentle could be nice too. Marta pulled away first, with an impish smile.

'We would be pretty adorable, actually,' She said, keeping one hand on D's bare collarbone, as if addicted to the feel of the boi's warm skin. 'Just think of it: the cute blonde who dresses her boi up all dapper for fun... and the way you blush when you're in a suit you like... total twee overload.'

'What's wrong with twee?' D asked, recalling the relative adorableness of Marta's Adventure Time costume the night before.

'Good sir, trust me: nothing at all.'

The two of them spent the day together, and outside the apartment life went on. When D had been sent on a food run to the nearest fast food place, she saw how mutable the world really was; only a few vestiges of the night before remained. The people around her had shed their costumes and walked in the light of day as men and women, and only a few decorations remained in place. But the spell that Halloween had cast on her didn't fade. 

All day long, D remained at home in her skin, untouched by the vagaries of the world she inhabited. She could no longer feel the eyes of every person comfortably ensconced in their binary, judging her from afar. Perhaps they still were, perhaps they never had been, but it didn't matter; she had been freed from all that. 

Most people, she reflected, used Halloween to be something they aren't; for one night of the year they could be as promiscuously sexy as they liked, or funny, or anonymous. It was the costumes that did it, shells that they built up around themselves as a buffer from judgment and criticism. But D had lived her life wearing one mask or another, and Halloween had turned into the perfect opportunity to let her real self out. 

And she had found that she quite liked being out like that. With Marta around, she would never be allowed to fall back into the old rhythm, to let herself be carried away on tides of expectation into a body image she wasn't satisfied with. The blonde would just push back, until she confronted whatever it was that was troubling her. Two queer widgets standing up to the gender binary alone. 

From now on, every day would have a little of that Halloween magic.

*********

If you've made it all the way to the end, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the story, or have anything to say about it, please vote or comment; I appreciate all feedback, good or bad.