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Aunt Fey Changed Me Into A Girl - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2022-03-26 13:21:26 +0000 UTCOTHER CHAPTER | ALL STORY LIST
It was only an hour later when I decided to jerk off again. I had nothing else to do, even though it was a nice day out. I couldn’t figure out what Aunt Fey was expecting me to do when she said, “Go out and enjoy nature.” What was there to enjoy? You’ve climbed one tree; you’ve climbed them all. I had to hike twice a day, so I wasn’t about to leave the house to go for a pointless hike, and I wasn’t big into swimming, and even if I was, I had to walk an hour to get to the nearest swimming-safe area, seeing as the waves were too aggressive near Aunt Fey’s waterfront house. So there was really only one thing to do to pass the time to jerk off.
Though I did spend some time searching through the house, digging through Aunt Fey’s closet, hoping to find something to pass the time. I was even willing to play a board game by myself like a complete lunatic, but she didn’t even have any board games. She just had clothes, lots and lots of clothes, and lots and lots of makeup and lotions and creams. So what did she do to pass the time, aside from seeing ‘consulting’ clients from time to time? There weren’t even books around to read. The only books in the house were my school textbooks, which I was almost bored enough to read. Aunt Fey still wasn’t home when the sun went down that evening.
My boredom was beginning to reach new levels. It was Monday, which meant I had to get up early in the morning so that I could pretend to go to school. But a part of me was legitimately considering going to school, just so that I would have something to do. I wanted the homework to pass the time. Maybe I could just avoid interacting with everyone except for my teachers. I could slip in late and leave early. Or I could just bum around town, trying to avoid being seen by Aunt Fey. I couldn’t decide which option sounded less boring.
There was one positive about living with Aunt Fey she was always up early, and she always made me breakfast. And it wasn’t like the breakfast that my mom would make me before she started using drugs. Aunt Fey didn’t just whip up a bowl of stale cereal. She made eggs and bacon and toast. Sometimes she made waffles or pancakes or French toast. Sometimes there was fruit salad, and there was always fresh coffee and biscuits. I always looked forward to her coffee.
It was the best coffee I’d ever had in my life. It wasn’t too strong, and it was rich in flavor, never burnt, never cold. Sometimes I would have three or four cups before heading off to school or heading off to pretend school. That Monday morning, I took a thermos with me as I made my long hike towards the small town. There was a little café in the city that had a working Internet connection. It wasn’t a great connection, not good enough to play League of Legends, but it was good enough that I could text chat with my friends on Discord. Though all of my Discord friends were in school, so all I could do was send them messages, and then I would have to wait until the next day before I got a reply, so our conversations were slow. They all missed me in the game.
“We don’t win as much without you,” one of my friends said. It was sad to hear, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I was sitting in that café when a guy walked in and ordered a coffee at the counter. I found myself staring at him curiously. He was a few years older than me, with an even stubble beard on his cheeks and chin. As he reached to grab his black coffee, I noticed his arms were thick and muscular. I could even see the veins in his arms. Then I noticed he was staring at me with a lowered brow. I looked away quickly, my heart pounding.
I couldn’t figure out why I was staring at him in the first place, and I really couldn’t figure out why my heart was pounding. After a minute, I didn’t think much of it. Then another strange thing happened. A pretty woman took a seat at a table next to me. She was a few years older than me and way out of my league, but she still looked up at me and smiled. I returned the smile, even though I usually darted my eyes away from any woman who looked my way. Then, as she looked down at the book in her hands, my gaze wandered down to her feet. She was wearing a pair of black open-toed heels. Her toenails were painted red and looked super cute. But it was the heels that had me strangely mesmerized. I was taking note of their shape, how they framed her foot. They made her legs look somehow longer and smoother. I loved the way they kept her toes pointed as if she was a foot model.
But the heel part seemed so thin how did it not snap underneath her weight? She was only one hundred and ten pounds at most, but I couldn’t imagine that thin heel holding more than thirty pounds. She was looking at me again. This time I darted my gaze away, my heart stuttering. I felt like I’d been caught staring down her top, even though I’d only been staring at her feet. Since when did I care about women’s shoes? Why did I find those feet so mesmerizing? I didn’t think much of it. I hadn’t slept much that night, so I figured I was just seeing the symptoms of lack of sleep.
I’d probably just zoned out, and my gaze happened to be on that man and subsequently those heels as I zoned out. It wasn’t something to think too hard about. When I got home, Aunt Fey was gone, along with her car. There was a note on the little kitchen table. “I’ll be out until late. There’s dinner in the fridge; you just need to heat it up.
” I looked in the fridge and saw the impressive casserole. But it wasn’t dinnertime yet. I still had a few hours to kill, and then I would have a few hours to kill once dinner was over. So once again, I found myself with nothing to do. So I got undressed, and I fetched that book from Aunt Fey’s nightstand. I flipped through the pages until I found a page that made my heart stutter. And that page surprised me. It was the ‘wraparound handjob’ page, with a picture of the naked man’s front and the woman standing behind him, with his big cock in her hand.
I don’t know why I found the image so arousing; there was hardly even a girl in the picture unless you count the sliver of her face over his shoulder or her hand. But the image got me hard. I stared at that massive cock while I jerked myself off. I imagined those pretty fingers sliding up and down, covered in shining lubricant. I imagined the tip of his cock getting redder and redder until it finally erupted cum into the air.
Then my own cock erupted cum into the air. And a cold tingling washed over me. Did I just jerk off to a picture of a dude? Was I thinking about the guy as I stroked cum out the tip of my penis? What was wrong with me? Can lack of sleep make a person temporarily gay? I took a long shower and tried to forget about what I’d done.
I worked hard to convince myself that I had really gotten off to the image of the girl lingering over the man’s shoulder. She did have an especially sexy expression in that shot, so maybe it was true. Maybe I wasn’t suddenly turning gay. I heated up some dinner and then went straight to bed, hoping my female lust would return to me in the morning. I was already looking to my first steaming cup of Aunt Fey’s delicious coffee.
I had a few strange moments throughout the next couple of weeks, finding myself zoned out while staring at men, women’s shoes, women’s clothes, and even a little bottle of white nail polish on a drug store shelf. I was shocked when I got home that evening and found that little bottle of nail polish in my pocket. I remembered grabbing it and slipping it into my pocket, but I thought that was just a daydream and not reality. What was I going to do with a bottle of white nail polish? It occurred to me one afternoon, while I sat in my usual café corner drinking from the thermos I snuck in under my coat, that these strange mental symptoms I was suffering were likely due to the death of my parents. I still hadn’t gone through a real grieving stage. Maybe I was still in denial. Maybe my brain was having some strange overload while trying to cope with the trauma of losing both of my parents on the same day. But did that really explain my sudden fixation with high heels? Aunt Fey had lots of high heels, a whole closet full. Her little house wouldn’t have been so small if it wasn’t filled with closets. All of those closets could have easily combined to make a couple of bedrooms or at least a sizeable second bathroom. Aunt Fey designed the house herself, and that was no surprise. It was completely non-functional, and it would be impossible to sell. It catered only to her own needs, and apparently, her only need was the need to store lots of dresses, shoes, and lingerie.
Even her single bathroom was mostly just cupboards and drawers filled with makeup. She had a wardrobe like Paris Hilton. If she wanted to be a socialite so badly, why did she live so far from the city? Surely that was a pain in the ass, driving all the way to town every time she wanted to show off her expensive wardrobe. Though I never saw her getting dolled up.
She only ever wore a little bit of makeup, and after living with her for six weeks, I never saw her put on one of her hundred dresses even once. So what was the point? Was she just a hoarder of fancy clothes? I was jerking off in the bathroom with that same book of sex positions when I heard gravel crunching under heavy tires. I quickly closed the book and pulled up my pants. I peeked out the bathroom window and saw an unfamiliar red SUV. I hid the book under the sink and carefully approached the door.
Aunt Fey didn’t have a peephole on her door, probably because she never had any guests. There wasn’t even a window facing out at the doorstep, so I couldn’t see who was coming up to the door. There was a knock. My cock was still half-erect, bulging out from my pants. I reached down and stuffed it up into my waistband, tugging down my shirt to make sure it covered my reddened tip. Then I took a deep breath and managed to answer the door before the second knock. I recognized the man on the doorstep, but it took me a moment to realize how I recognized him. He was the gym teacher at the local high school, the one I was supposed to be attending. “Kenny,” he said without even a friendly smile. “What’s up?” I said. “You’ve missed twenty straight gym classes.
Half of your gym grade is based on attendance. I don’t want to have to fail you, so tell me what’s going on?” “I’ve been sick,” I said. I faked a cough. “The doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with me. I might even be contagious.” I coughed again. “Cut it out,” he said. “Have you been going to school at all?” I felt a cold breeze. The cold breezes on the Island felt especially cold because of the humidity from the ocean. I still wasn’t used to that piercing dampness, even though it was technically much warmer than the weather in Toronto. “Sometimes,” I said. “Sometimes? Like when?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. “If you’re thinking of dropping out, I can tell you right now that’s a bad idea. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
