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storypaint) wrote2008-07-14 11:15 am
storypaint) wrote2008-07-14 11:15 am
Different Ways to Do It (girl!Bridget/OFC)
Comm: International Day of Femslash 7/19/08
Prompt: (Girl)Bridget; WHHHHHY?!
Length: 1155
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Title: Different Ways to Do It
Author: rhap-chan
Pairing/Characters: girl!Bridget/OFC
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex; genderbending; prostitution
Disclaimer: Guilty Gear is not my property.. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Excerpt: "It's not a big deal, ma'am. We get women in here more'n you'd think, believe me. I love doing women-- so much easier when you're dealing with your own anatomy, don't you think? Well, of course you do."
He couldn't believe that he was doing this until he actually opened the door and went in. He wished half-heartedly that the old lady at the desk wouldn't leer at him so, and then he took a seat in one of the chairs provided, feeling oddly like he was in a doctor's office.
After about ten painful minutes of the old woman's stares and his own misgivings, he was about to get up and flee when the back door opened and a young woman poked her head into the room. Her eyes widened a little when she saw him, but then she smiled.
"Madam?" she said, her voice husky. Bridget nodded and followed her into the back room, wishing he'd thought to steal or buy some boy's clothes before he'd talked himself into this. Not that this had exactly been planned. How many people planned their trips to a prostitute on a schedule, anyway? Lack of planning was manly. Probably?
He coughed deeply. The girl lifted an eyebrow as she led him to a small room with a pallet in the middle of it. Very... utilitarian. He looked at her for a moment, feeling utterly awkward, and she smiled.
"It's not a big deal, ma'am. We get women in here more'n you'd think, believe me. I love doing women-- so much easier when you're dealing with your own anatomy, don't you think? Well, of course you do."
She laughed and then began to strip without any modesty at all. Bridget froze, staring at her body. She was slightly older than one would assume from her face, and it showed in the small stretch marks across her slim stomach and the heaviness of her large breasts. She stood there and let him admire her for a moment before she approached him.
"You only want the hour, right? Well, let's get you warmed up, shall we?" she said, rubbing her breasts across his front for a moment. His heart was pounding and he felt like a little boy. She pulled off his cap and then began to unfasten his dress. His heart rate sped up as his skin slowly came exposed. It was paler than hers was, and his breasts were much smaller.
His... his breasts? Bridget had been stiff before, but now he stopped moving entirely. The woman paused her stripping of him to meet his eyes, and she smiled again, trying to put him at ease. She tweaked one of his nipples and it stood jauntily.
"Aren't you a cute one?" she said. "Probably barely legal."
Bridget swallowed and nodded. He couldn't stop now. He had to know. Her hands crept further south and relieved him of his underwear, and there it was-- any man's worst nightmare.
Had he been castrated in his sleep? Had someone cast a dark magic upon him? Where the heck was his penis?
The woman kissed his hipbone and ran a finger gently up his thigh, making him jump.
"I was starting to worry about you!" she said, laughing easily, and she took his hand and pulled him down onto the pallet. She kissed his face, but not his lips, and grabbed his hands, resting them on her breasts.
"You're paying for it," she said, shrugging in a way that made them ripple interestingly. "Why don't you indulge yourself a little? Don't be a stranger, love."
Bridget stroked her with the palms of his hands, awkwardly, and watched her nipples stand to attention. Female body or not, the sight was arousing, though the sensation of arousal was slightly different. The woman moved down to kiss his neck and his breasts. They hadn't been that sensitive before--he'd worn a padded bra out of necessity of disguise, not because he liked the fabric pressing against his nipples-- but they sure were now. He moaned a little under her touch, almost immediately embarrassed by the sound. She mumbled something into his chest in return, pushing slightly to overbalance him as he slid onto his back and her kisses migrated down his stomach.
He was both interested and frightened to see what it would be like when she touched his vagina; still horribly worried about his loss, and embarrassed of his female parts as well. But the heat of arousal was beginning to relax and loosen him up and when her touch touched his clitoris he gave up worrying all together as pleasure washed over him.
When he had jerked himself off alone (oh, where had he gone?), the sensations had been quite different. The whole feel of sex had been different-- drier, for one, he could feel his body soaking his thighs and the woman's lips. But as a man, it seemed that he had been striding up a mountain, reaching a sudden peak, and then that was it. But here-- the sensations were intense, but he felt like he was riding little waves, slowly rising towards orgasm.
She removed her tongue from his clitoris and he gasped, his breathing heavy. He wasn't sure exactly what else women could do with each other when she climbed up on top of him. She was a bigger person than he was; her breasts fell and rubbed against his, but her legs were longer and she was taller and heavier. Man or not, he was petite. She lowered the bottom half of her body until her own feminity rested against his. Then she bit his nipple and inserted a finger into his opening.
Now this was something different. He'd imagined coming here that he would get to fuck a woman; here was one fucking him, her fingers slipping in and out expertly, her pubic bone rubbing against his. It was rhythmic and primal and wet and full and perfect.
He cried out when he came, his voice high and feminine. She rubbed him a little more, her thumb just a brush upon his clitoris, and he marveled at the strong sensation that remained. Then she rolled off of him and looked at his dazed face.
"That was fun, don't you think?" she asked, a lazy hand stroking across his chest. "You'll have to come back again sometime, sweetheart. What's your name?"
*
"Bridget," he said, sitting up and blinking into the sudden darkness. He rubbed his eyes and looked around into the close quarters of a tent. He was utterly disoriented for a moment; then his hand plunged into his sleeping bag and came up with a handful of something familiar. And sticky. He'd had a wet dream.
And a weird one, at that.
He got out of the sleeping bag and fished in his pack for spare clothes and a towel to clean up with. When he had had his toilet, he emerged into the early dawn light, blinking at the soft pink sky.
And for the first time ever, he really wondered what it would have been like to have been born a girl.
Prompt: (Girl)Bridget; WHHHHHY?!
Length: 1155
Fandom: Guilty Gear
Title: Different Ways to Do It
Author: rhap-chan
Pairing/Characters: girl!Bridget/OFC
Rating: NC-17 for explicit sex; genderbending; prostitution
Disclaimer: Guilty Gear is not my property.. All fanfiction archived here is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.
Excerpt: "It's not a big deal, ma'am. We get women in here more'n you'd think, believe me. I love doing women-- so much easier when you're dealing with your own anatomy, don't you think? Well, of course you do."
He couldn't believe that he was doing this until he actually opened the door and went in. He wished half-heartedly that the old lady at the desk wouldn't leer at him so, and then he took a seat in one of the chairs provided, feeling oddly like he was in a doctor's office.
After about ten painful minutes of the old woman's stares and his own misgivings, he was about to get up and flee when the back door opened and a young woman poked her head into the room. Her eyes widened a little when she saw him, but then she smiled.
"Madam?" she said, her voice husky. Bridget nodded and followed her into the back room, wishing he'd thought to steal or buy some boy's clothes before he'd talked himself into this. Not that this had exactly been planned. How many people planned their trips to a prostitute on a schedule, anyway? Lack of planning was manly. Probably?
He coughed deeply. The girl lifted an eyebrow as she led him to a small room with a pallet in the middle of it. Very... utilitarian. He looked at her for a moment, feeling utterly awkward, and she smiled.
"It's not a big deal, ma'am. We get women in here more'n you'd think, believe me. I love doing women-- so much easier when you're dealing with your own anatomy, don't you think? Well, of course you do."
She laughed and then began to strip without any modesty at all. Bridget froze, staring at her body. She was slightly older than one would assume from her face, and it showed in the small stretch marks across her slim stomach and the heaviness of her large breasts. She stood there and let him admire her for a moment before she approached him.
"You only want the hour, right? Well, let's get you warmed up, shall we?" she said, rubbing her breasts across his front for a moment. His heart was pounding and he felt like a little boy. She pulled off his cap and then began to unfasten his dress. His heart rate sped up as his skin slowly came exposed. It was paler than hers was, and his breasts were much smaller.
His... his breasts? Bridget had been stiff before, but now he stopped moving entirely. The woman paused her stripping of him to meet his eyes, and she smiled again, trying to put him at ease. She tweaked one of his nipples and it stood jauntily.
"Aren't you a cute one?" she said. "Probably barely legal."
Bridget swallowed and nodded. He couldn't stop now. He had to know. Her hands crept further south and relieved him of his underwear, and there it was-- any man's worst nightmare.
Had he been castrated in his sleep? Had someone cast a dark magic upon him? Where the heck was his penis?
The woman kissed his hipbone and ran a finger gently up his thigh, making him jump.
"I was starting to worry about you!" she said, laughing easily, and she took his hand and pulled him down onto the pallet. She kissed his face, but not his lips, and grabbed his hands, resting them on her breasts.
"You're paying for it," she said, shrugging in a way that made them ripple interestingly. "Why don't you indulge yourself a little? Don't be a stranger, love."
Bridget stroked her with the palms of his hands, awkwardly, and watched her nipples stand to attention. Female body or not, the sight was arousing, though the sensation of arousal was slightly different. The woman moved down to kiss his neck and his breasts. They hadn't been that sensitive before--he'd worn a padded bra out of necessity of disguise, not because he liked the fabric pressing against his nipples-- but they sure were now. He moaned a little under her touch, almost immediately embarrassed by the sound. She mumbled something into his chest in return, pushing slightly to overbalance him as he slid onto his back and her kisses migrated down his stomach.
He was both interested and frightened to see what it would be like when she touched his vagina; still horribly worried about his loss, and embarrassed of his female parts as well. But the heat of arousal was beginning to relax and loosen him up and when her touch touched his clitoris he gave up worrying all together as pleasure washed over him.
When he had jerked himself off alone (oh, where had he gone?), the sensations had been quite different. The whole feel of sex had been different-- drier, for one, he could feel his body soaking his thighs and the woman's lips. But as a man, it seemed that he had been striding up a mountain, reaching a sudden peak, and then that was it. But here-- the sensations were intense, but he felt like he was riding little waves, slowly rising towards orgasm.
She removed her tongue from his clitoris and he gasped, his breathing heavy. He wasn't sure exactly what else women could do with each other when she climbed up on top of him. She was a bigger person than he was; her breasts fell and rubbed against his, but her legs were longer and she was taller and heavier. Man or not, he was petite. She lowered the bottom half of her body until her own feminity rested against his. Then she bit his nipple and inserted a finger into his opening.
Now this was something different. He'd imagined coming here that he would get to fuck a woman; here was one fucking him, her fingers slipping in and out expertly, her pubic bone rubbing against his. It was rhythmic and primal and wet and full and perfect.
He cried out when he came, his voice high and feminine. She rubbed him a little more, her thumb just a brush upon his clitoris, and he marveled at the strong sensation that remained. Then she rolled off of him and looked at his dazed face.
"That was fun, don't you think?" she asked, a lazy hand stroking across his chest. "You'll have to come back again sometime, sweetheart. What's your name?"
*
"Bridget," he said, sitting up and blinking into the sudden darkness. He rubbed his eyes and looked around into the close quarters of a tent. He was utterly disoriented for a moment; then his hand plunged into his sleeping bag and came up with a handful of something familiar. And sticky. He'd had a wet dream.
And a weird one, at that.
He got out of the sleeping bag and fished in his pack for spare clothes and a towel to clean up with. When he had had his toilet, he emerged into the early dawn light, blinking at the soft pink sky.
And for the first time ever, he really wondered what it would have been like to have been born a girl.
no subject
I can't believe I read this while in your presence. >//> Reading it makes me feel dirtier.
no subject
no subject
I like the fact that the pro had stretch marks. That was an interesting touch of realism.
no subject