Turned III

Note: This is a story-prompt for varvi.

$20 Patreon Directory 

Previous

-

After Stephanie finished with his makeup, Eric appraised himself in the mirror. With the dark lipstick and eyeshadow, he looked more feminine than ever, long waves of hair hanging around his eyes in an unnervingly sultry way. He gulped.

“Perfect,” said Stephanie as she smiled in satisfaction. “Now just to get our nails done then pick out outfits for tonight.” She heaved up the large pile of clothes she had deemed suitable during the fittings.

“Nails?” said Eric in alarm. “We already did our nails,” he said, wiggling our toes for emphasis.

“Those were pedicures, Erica. Now we need to do our nails. Pay attention, girl. Maybe you should be taking notes.”

Eric numbly followed her towards a register.

It seemed ludicrous to be frequenting two different nail salons on the same day, but that’s exactly what he ended up doing. When the beauticians were done with him, Eric was left with long, pink acrylic nails that felt awkwardly like claws, and made it nearly impossible for him to use his fingers.

“Now just to get ready for tonight,” said Stephanie, once they were back at her apartment, and she was settling the bags of clothes down on the elegant white couch.

“Tonight?” said Eric in confusion.

“I’m taking you clubbing.” Stephanie rummaged through outfits. At seeing Eric’s expression, she frowned at him. “Erica, you promised you’d give being a girl a try. That includes night life.”

“Stephanie, this has already gone too fa—” But Eric was cut off when Stephanie shoved clothes into his arms. He felt himself being pushed gently towards what appeared to be a bathroom.

“Oh, hush. Just get dressed. Our ‘horrible’ little outing will be over before you know it.” She slammed the door behind him.

In the bathroom, Eric cursed under his breath. It was a struggle to get the clothes on between the awkwardness of the claws and the newness of wearing dresses. Soon enough, he found his curvy body squeezed into the tightest thing he had ever donned—that being a tube black minidress that seemed far too short yet extremely low cut, and left him perpetually alternating between pulling it up and tugging it down. He yelped as he stubbed one of his acrylic nails, but it held tight to the glue.

“You done in there?”

Eric awkwardly shuffled out of the bathroom, causing Stephanie to marvel, grin, and giggle a bit. “You look incredible. Now just to pick shoes to go with that dress.”

This proved a struggle. Eric tried on a variety of heels, but after nearly capsizing on one pair, and almost breaking his ankle on another, Stephanie (disappointedly) conceded to letting him wear flats. Eric couldn’t believe how rapidly the time had passed. It was already dark out.

“Ready to go?” said Stephanie, grabbing her Louis Vuitton purse.

Eric wasn’t, but in his resignation, he followed her out the door. Eric had never been to many clubs, even as a male. He was completely unfamiliar with the building Stephanie brought them to after a half hour’s drive.

Parking was a nightmare. So was the line. But once they were inside, the tone somehow…shifted.

The music was good. Eric even allowed himself to be dragged onto the dance floor, which was just the right amount of crowded that they weren’t constantly jostled. His dance moves weren’t the most feminine, but no one seemed to really care. Stephanie laughed when he grinded against her. She pulled him to the bar.

Almost the moment they sat down, some guy offered to buy their first round, and Stephanie happily accepted.

“I’m Matt,” the guy said, his eyes studying Eric’s round hips and the fat tits bulging heavily against his neckline. “Yours?”

“I’m Stephanie and this is Erica!” Stephanie called back to him over the music. “I’ll take a mojito. She’ll have a virgin margarita.”

They happily sipped as the guy tried to chat them up over the music, but Eric only managed to catch every other word. Though his drink was virgin, it was still amazing. He realized he’d never had a margarita before. He was more of a beer guy.

Stephanie finished her drink and slammed it down on the bar. “Thanks, Mark! We’re gonna go dance! Join us?”

She grabbed hold of Eric and dragged him back towards the dance floor. If Mark pursued them, he was rapidly lost in the crowd.

This process repeated itself, and it was fun as hell, Eric decided. “Hi, I’m Erica,” he introduced himself to random people. They danced, and drank, then nodded and smiled towards indecipherable conversation directed towards them by random guys. Eric even danced with one of them. It was weird, but also kind of entertaining. The men all reeked of desperation. Is this how I was? Eric wondered morbidly.

“This is crazy!” Eric called to Stephanie two dances later. She was positively hopping. “You practically get whatever you want!”

“What?” Stephanie called, holding her hand to her ear to indicate she couldn’t hear him.

“Girls get whatever they want!” Eric shouted.

Stephanie gave up on trying to listen. The song changed to a particularly hyper one, and Stephanie dragged him deeper into the crowd, the two of them laughing and bouncing together.

Eric was scared he was beginning to actually like this.

They didn’t leave the club till closing, by which point they were hanging off each other, contently exhausted.

Stephanie was debating whether they should call a cab or get some coffee, when a new female voice cut in: “How far along are you?”

Blinking, Eric looked up to see a woman in a flowy dress scrutinizing him fondly. “You’re starting to show. It’s a really cute stage. How far?”

And suddenly he was thrusted roughly back into the reality of his predicament.

Next