An Accidental Woman 2

How do you get mad at the thing you are, when the thing you are is the judge. I sat for days in the apartment feeling used, manipulated. I wanted to hate what had happened to me, but it was hard. Everything inside me said it was right. The transition had almost taken place overnight, but there was still that thing within me that told me this was not who I was. The small things reminded me. I woke up and didn’t put a shirt on, and was immediately reminded I was a woman because of the weight of my chest. Indeed almost always my chest was the reminder. I never wore a bra around the house specifically because it reminded me, and because of it, the sway and movement always served as a little voice in my head. I would bang the corner of the wall with them, tip over glasses, bend over and they come and hit me square in the face.

On the other hand, as much as they were the reminder that I wasn’t a man, they also were the source of my growing pride. For a day or two I wouldn’t look in the mirror, but then I just faced myself. My tits were fantastic. They were firm and so round. Standing in front of the mirror they barely sagged at all, and with just a little cold air or slight manipulation of my clit they protruded and hardened wonderfully. I loved they way they felt in my hands, and it was hard to get over how small my waste was and how wide my hips were. The curves were intoxicating, and then there was my ass. I felt it every time I sat down. I was always aware of the padding, Other than my tits, the feel of my ass as it started at my lower back, protruding nicely, was my favorite part of my body.

And that’s how it happened. After a week in my self imposed jail, I came to grips with who I was, not just how I looked, but more importantly a woman that enjoyed, no needed, to be a woman. I noticed how different it was the first time I went out. Suddenly my entrapment became a burden I had to rid myself of. My choice was the mall, and my goal was clear. I would test myself as a woman. My logic was this: I had sucked dick and been fucked, but didn’t mean I was a woman, just that I enjoyed the sex. I had yet to be attracted to a man, and that’s what I wanted to test.

I put on a bra for the first time in a week, having fewer problems than I thought, panties and a skirt and two tank tops. I got to the mall, ate a really bad chicken sandwich and sat down on a bench and started studying people. First I only looked at women. Most of them women were young, but I noticed that when I looked at them I looked at their entire body. I sized them up not by their chest or their butt, but their overall appearance. When it came to the men, it was drastically different. I looked at their ass, their crotch, I wondered what they looked like with their shirts off. I came back to their crotch and wondered how big their dicks were. I started studying faces to see which guys I found attractive.

Then I noticed, that I wasn’t just studying; I was turned on. I wasn’t just turned on, I was wet. I started undressing guys with my eyes, wondering what it would be like to fuck them right there on that bench. When a group of three guys came by, and I started wondering what it would be like for all of them to fuck me, I knew it was time to leave. I was coming to grips with who I was and that I liked men, but it was clear I was not ready to deal with getting gang banged.

I walked back through the department store, but couldn’t remember which door I came in. I walked toward the lady’s department, but that didn’t look right, so I circled around and found that I was in the middle of the men’s department. I saw the door I came in (suddenly remembered it was by the men shoes), but as I made my way to the door, I was interrupted by a voice.

“Can I help you find something miss?”

I looked a the voice, and before me stood a 20 something Swedish looking guy, skinny, in a vest and dress pants. His hair was gelled into a tight point. Although skinny, you could tell by his shoulders that he was in good shape.

“Is there something in particular that your looking for?”

His head was turning to try and catch my gaze, the gaze that was me searching for something to say.