An Average Guy







Adam waited until Jimmy stopped looking like he was going to vomit while talking to Katie, before slipping away. The KOK-&-DOG mixer, held at the DOG-house (a name none of the KOKs made fun of any longer), was just passing the awkward stage and heading into full party-swing. Soon, the music would become louder, conversation would give way to dancing or, for the lucky, heaving petting, and the night would fly by.

Adam climbed the stairs, greeting people he passed. He knew everyone from both houses and, as KOK President and organizer of the mixer, he felt responsible for making sure all were having a good time. A quick look into the living room from the second floor balcony assured him that the party was going to be a success, and so he gave in to the siren's call leading him to his room.

It had been three weeks since Adam had set foot into the room, but it felt like an eternity. He had tried to immerse himself into his old life -- minus his asshole-like behavior -- after living as a female for months, and was only partially successful. He enjoyed being able to use the can as long as he wanted and not needing to shower at four o'clock in the morning, but in a house full of fraternity brothers, Adam felt very alone.

Adam crossed the threshold and was immediately embraced in a warm, invisible welcome. He smiled for the first time in weeks, the tension of being Adam, KOK President and cool, confident guy, disappearing with the slide of the lock on the door.

Leah had changed nothing. The three twin beds were haphazardly made. Makeup, perfume, and jewelry were strewn on the three desks beside the beds. The wigs were hanging on the backs of each desk chair where Adam, Dave, and Doofer left them after changing for the last time.

The closet door was open, and Adam saw himself in the full-length mirror. He was an average guy, 5'-10", not very muscular, with a fat ass he was working hard at losing. Dark curly hair peeked out from beneath his ballcap. Relatively good-looking face. If the number of girls he'd fucked was any indication, he was an overall attractive guy.

The ballcap was tossed on the bed, his sneakers toed off, and soon Adam was fully naked. His small bare feet, with toenails painted in a shade of pale blue, made no noise on the carpeting as he walked over to the mirror to further examine his reflection. No ingrown hairs or razor burn was spotted under his critical eye, not even beneath his arms. He'd shaved just that morning, followed by lotioning, and his skin was baby-smooth everywhere, except for the neatly trimmed pubic bush surrounding his cock.

Dave had asked why Adam still shaved, when Adam had returned to their room post-shower. Adam had been honest in answering, though he doubted Dave understood. Hell, Adam didn't understand, but that didn't change how he felt.

Dave and Doofer had come out from the cross-dressing experience with girlfriends.

Adam came out wanting to be a girl.

Though he'd said he'd wanted to forget the whole cross-dressing thing, Adam couldn't. By the end, Adam had liked how he felt as a girl, especially after winning the Powder Puff football game. He liked dressing up everyday, putting on makeup and jewelry, and making himself feel pretty. He might not have been the best-looking woman, but he had a killer waist and hips, which would look even better once his butt shrank in size. Jimmy had thought Adam was sexy and, even though he wasn't gay, it had given him a small thrill.

Adam went to the dresser and chose a pair of panties. A vibrant red thong was the selection; he was feeling frisky. No hose, he decided, tucking his package down. A red lacy bra to match his panties, stuffed carefully with socks. He would have to splurge on falsies soon.

At the desk, Adam sat and removed a free-standing cosmetics mirror from the top drawer. An elastic hair-band pulled his dark locks away from his face. Makeup was applied with a deft hand: foundation, powder, blusher, eyeliner and shadow. He put on lip-liner, but held off on the lipstick for after he dressed.

The blouse Adam chose was the same shade of blue as his eyes. It was long-sleeved, slightly mid-drift bearing, and embroidered with white flowers along the scalloped collar. The pants he selected were caramel-colored pleather that rode low and hugged his hips. He checked his ass in the mirror and was pleased to see it looked less hippopotamus-like than a month ago.

The wig came next, and Adam took extra care to secure it on his head. He left the reddish-blonde hair down, brushing it smooth before fluffing it with his fingers. A light spritzing of hairspray ensured no flyaway hairs.

Adina smiled at her reflection when she was finished primping.

Humming to the music she could hear from downstairs, Adina chose a simple pair of silver studs for her ears. She slid her feet into open-toed silver-colored heels, sprayed on spring-scented perfume, and applied Cotton Candy Pink lipstick for the final touch. Standing by the desk, she blew a kiss at herself in the mirror, laughed lightly, and dropped backwards onto her bed.

"You are a sick, sick man, Adam," Adina said aloud, in her soft, smoky voice. She stretched her arms above her head and flutter-kicked her feet. "Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick."

Adina laughed again, because Adam didn't care.





End


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