Crossdress Fiction

I-or the next few weeks after the transformation, Dominic was Instrumental In getting me set up. He was my benefactor and friend, but he also took on the per-sona of my boss as well. In this capacity he took me to be a mountain of clay, ready to be moulded. He showed me the ways of ensuring a productive office, and in gaining my own skill and learning from the job too. I had so much respect for him, he sorted me an apartment in a tech related sector of the city, and I started to make some friends and make some plans too. He encouraged me so much.

I pulled through the silent streets of the more affl uent areas of historic Newport, just as the sun was setting on
he horizon, painting the whole town a delightful orange color that really set off the falling leaves from the
trees. Autumn had always been my favourite season, and spending it in New England was a pleasure I’d never imagined I’d experience. Since the transformation I’d been thinking less and less about my former life, until
here were some days where I just thought purely as ‘Brandy’. That isn’t to say I was losing my identity. More
making a new one. I could still be the computer kid, I could still be antisocial and weird, I just had to be some-
hing on top of that also. I had to be Brandy Svenning, hottie, underachiever, and all around ‘good girl’.

When his wife asked Sven if he would like to be a girl for a day Sven agreed with it. But Sven could
not expect what this change would be for the rest of his life.

Roman torchwick’s time in This world was up. He had been swallowed by a
Grimm after his fight with Ruby Rose, and was running out of air inside it’s
stomach. As he lost consciousness, he was Thinking one Thing: “I just need one
more chance……”

At CelebSuit HQ, buisness was booming. Since their service had started, hundreds of celebrities had sent in orders for bodysuits.

Corporate espionage was not Doug’s forte. He was a shapeshifter sure, and an actor when he put his
mind to it, but actually committing anything illegal was completely out of his wheelhouse. The whole
reason he was putting his gifts to work was precisely for the reason that he didn’t want to use them for
anything ethically wrong. What he was being asked to do was completely against his beliefs as a
person. But rent was due once more, and without a new personality formulated for the auditions, he
was floundering between modelling gigs and advertising proiects. What did it matter if you could
become a beautiful woman in a city filled with them? He was increasingly coming to the realisation
that he should move somewhere else, maybe England? He’d have better teeth than them at least.