I was more than half-gone. The blueberry vodka coursing through my skin warmed my face and addled my mind. Sure, why not? I reasoned. I could explain it all away later as a hallucination induced by alcohol. Why not tell her?
She was more than attractive. Busty. Shapely. Lovely. She was down right gorgeous. Which is why I found it so easy to talk to her. She was something I always desired, something anyone would desire; but I knew she was out of my reach. All of them were. She must have a boyfriend or three somewhere. She didn’t have a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. I was resigned to a life of solitude, so I didn’t expect anything to happen, and hence, I wasn’t nervous.
“You want the truth?” I toyed, sipping my drink.
“Well yeah. I’m curious.” She smiled, glancing up at me as she sipped her drink seductively.
I smiled from the corner of my mouth and set my drink back down. Leaning in close, so I didn’t have to shout over the music of the bar I told her. “The truth is I found women to be the most absolutely beautiful creatures in existence, but for some reason I know I don’t want one in my life.”
Her eyebrow raised a fraction and a smirk spread across her face.
“All my friends had girlfriends. Then fiance's. Then wives. Then children. I wanted none of that. In fact I didn’t even want sex.” I wasn’t lying. She chuckled at that, but I continued, slurring my speech just a bit.
“The prospect of sex fills me with such dread I can’t stand it. I know what sex leads to... children.” I grimaced in disgust. “There is no way in hell I want one of those.” I took a drink and set my glass back down, leaning in once more.
“The truth is,” I continued, “I love the feminine form. Just love it. But sometimes, I wish I was a woman, cause I’d be such a raging lesbian.” She giggled at that and I laughed along with her, pretending it was just a drunken joke. But I had never been more serious. “Just to experience life as a woman, would be wonderful. Just to be something so beautiful, and be able to make love to another woman with no fear of procreating.” I spat the word.
She nodded a bit, as if understanding my position. “So you want to be a woman so you can be a lesbian, eh?” she asked me.
“Hell yeah.” I replied, leaning back a bit, taking another swig of my drink. “I’m so very much a boob man, I’d love to have my own pair.” I smiled. “And if that makes me a fag or something, then fuck you. I don’t care.” I waved it off. “That’s just how I feel about women.”
“I don’t think you’re a fag.” She stated. “I think you’re a stereotypical transvestite; and before you blow that off, hear me out.” She leaned in close again. “Most transvestites are aroused by women. So aroused in fact that they want to be women. It’s just like the Counting Crows song. ‘We all want something beautiful. Man, I wish I was beautiful.’... Right?”
My eyes cleared a bit, the booze in my brain fading a bit. Her words seemed to hit the mark entirely.
“Transvestite is a loaded term.” She continued. “Most people think of some fruitcake gay man. That’s drag queen.” She smiled at me. “I do understand what you’re talking about.”
There was an odd pause as I looked down at my drink. Maybe I was a transvestite. Look at what I was drinking I thought as I eyed my beverage. Blueberry vodka mixed with Sprite. How foo-foo can you get? Real men would have a beer, but I couldn’t stand the taste of it... so I drank girly drinks.
God, she was hot. Her bright red hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. Full pouty lips, an angelic face, large ‘Egyptian goddess’ eyes... Her body was smokin’ too. Almost a comical hourglass figure since her waist was so small and her hips so perfect. And, Oh my God... her tits. Tits was too small of a word. Breasts was closer, but boobs fit the bill. Easily the size of basketballs, they filled the shelf of her dress and poured out the top just a tad. Magnificent.
“Something catching your eye?” She asked in a pretended condescending manner.
Sheepishly I looked away at the dance floor and took a sip of my drink.
“I didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the show.” she laughed softly. “I’ve got a confession to make.” I looked back at her. She motioned me in with her finger. Leaning close she whispered, “I’m a lesbian.”
“I knew it.” I said with a look of disappointment. Leaning back in my chair, I further added, “I knew you were too good to be true. I bet if I were as hot a chick as you, you’d screw my brains out, right?”
Licking her lips provocatively was her only reply as she leaned back. The answer was an obvious yes, but it only served to deepen my depression at the situation. The woman of my dreams was sitting across the table from me and she wanted nothing to do with me... sexually, anyway. I stared at my drink, asking myself, “Why couldn’t I have been born as a woman?”
“So you like boobs then?” She asked, arching her back slightly and hefting them with her hands at me.
I quickly glanced around to see if anyone else was watching this truly arousing display. Apparently it was an audience of one.
“Of course I like boobs!” I excitedly replied in a harsh whisper, quickly answering her, almost embarrassed of her actions. “What man in their right mind doesn’t?” It was somewhat of a lie, however. I didn’t just like boobs, I fucking LOVED them! I lived for them! And the bigger the better. In fact, what really turned me on was not just big boobs, but the idea of boobs getting bigger. Like beach balls, comically inflating under dresses and blouses, until their owners couldn’t reach around them.
“What about bigger boobs?” She asked, thrusting her sensational chest out once more. And I swear to God Almighty, that I saw her chest swell.
There in front of me was a marvelously sensational rack... swelling. The front of her dress creaked and snapping sounds came from it as her breasts filled it out. Then as quickly as it started, it stopped. She leaned back in her chair, readjusting her dress to hold her monstrous mammaries. After which she calmly took a sip of her drink.
I was speechless. There I was, leaning over the table staring at her. Half expecting her dress to explode off her as her breasts swelled again. But she just smiled gently.
I was completely blown away. My deepest, darkest desire was just realized right in front of me, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even get hard. I was too surprised. I felt as if at any second my friends would all jump out of hiding and laugh at the prank they had just pulled on me. It must have been a full minute before I relaxed back into my chair and blinked. I realized my mouth was open so I shut it.
I didn’t know what to say after that. I just sat there, with my hands dangling limply at my sides. I must have looked like my mother just died, because she looked at me with a worried expression.
She waited a few minutes, going through her purse, reapplying lipstick, and such. Avoiding my gaze the whole while, letting me soak in what had just happened. Finally she put away her lipstick, closed her purse and looked back up at me.
“Would you like to go somewhere private?” She asked in less of provocative I-want-to-screw-your-brains-out manner, but more of a concerned You-look-like-you’re-going-to-throw-up tone.
Like a mute child, I nodded and rose to follow her out. She put on her coat and buttoned it all the way up to mask her mile of cleavage. It must have looked somewhat peculiar, a woman wearing a coat in the middle of June, but it was night and the bar was dark. It could have passed for part of her outfit, since the rain-jacket type coat was made from the same latex-like fabric as her dress.
Following her out of the bar, I noticed that few people took notice of us leaving. Even my friends which I came to the bar with were too busy playing pool and laughing to see.
Perfect, I thought. They’d never stop giving me shit if they saw me leave with a beautiful woman. I imagined they’d think I was bored and left for home, like I usually do when I go to the bar with them.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, it was just that I was a virgin. And they all knew it. In fact, that was part of who I was to them. Louis the virgin. In fact, sometimes it seemed like that’s how they introduced me. Like a standing joke or something. Fuck them. I didn’t mind being a virgin.
But not tonight. All that was behind me and far from my mind. Here I was making my way out of a bar with an inflatable dream woman. My heart skipped a beat. Dear God! My dreams come true! Now I was sporting wood. We made our way out the door, past the giant bouncer, ridiculously wearing sunglasses in the neon light of the club entrance. At last we were in the parking lot.
“Which one is your car?” she asked.
“Uhh, that one.” I replied, a little embarrassed by my ride. There she sat, my 1998 Chevy Metro, all decked out in it’s custom cow-print interior. God, I must have looked like a queer to her now. Fuck it. It was my car, it was paid for, and it was economical. I loved it even if it did bring into question my sexuality.
I unlocked the driver door and hopped in, reaching across I unlocked her door and pulled the lever. She hopped in the passenger side.
“Sorry,” I stated, “No power anything on this beast.”
“Oh I love it, especially the fuzzy cow print.” She said, running her hand along the fabric.
I started to put the key into the ignition, but her hand on my arm stopped me.
“I need to ask you a question.” She stated. “I have a secret to share, which I’m sure you could already imagine. But I need to know something.”
She let go of my arm and I turned to face her more.
“The fantasy you described in there, was that the truth? Do you really wish to experience life as a woman?”
I knew the answer. I had known the answer since I first hit puberty and started taking notice of the girls. They were beautiful. More beautiful that I would ever be as a man. Men were gross. Fat, hairy, disgusting. Women were spectacular. Beautiful and graceful. And allowed to do just about anything, fashionably speaking. It just seemed to be so much more fun in this world to be a girl. To do girly things, like shop, and try on outfits.
I turned to face her more directly and looked her right in the eye. “I’ve never told anyone this... ever. No one. But if I could somehow magically become a woman, a beautiful woman, such as yourself, I would do it, and never look back.” I paused a moment.
“If tomorrow I won the lottery, I would retire, leave a small chunk for my friends and family, and disappear entirely. I would undergo any and all kinds of surgery in pursuit of becoming the most beautiful creature I could be. I know I’d never be fully a woman, but I would try. Fake breast implants, hormone treatments, sex change operation, laser hair removal, you name it, I’d do it.”
I relaxed a bit in my seat. “If I could magically flip a switch, and have been born as a woman instead of what I am... I do it in a heartbeat. No hesitation, whatsoever.”
“Seriously?” She asked.
“As a heart attack.”
She pause a moment, turning to look forward out the windshield, then down at her hands folded in her lap. “What if I told you it was possible? That you might become a woman, as beautiful as myself, or even more so, magically... totally...? But that there was a catch.”
Was she for real? She spoke as if it was actually feasible. As if she could magically weave a spell and poof, I’d have breasts. I knew it was impossible, but I had just witnessed the impossible. Alcohol or no, I just saw a woman’s breasts balloon up in size like my wildest fantasy. After that display in the bar, something made me believe her.
“Who do I have to kill?” I asked.