I woke up the next morning, yawned, stretched, and screamed so loud that a six foot something Napoleonic Terminator kicked in the door.
Ra was, as ever, an intimidatingly sexy and sexily intimidating piece of machining -- being huge, and tall, and amazonian, and perpetually dressed in a sexy red uniform -- but having her burst in my door with her sword at the ready just made her even hotter. Or should that be
and
having her bust in the door with her sword at the ready made her even hotter? Either way, she swept her glowing holographic eyes around the room, then frowned, lowering her sword as I blinked at her.
"Young Mistress?" she asked, her voice a husky contralto buzz that went into my brain and started pushing the PLEASE ME STEPPY button. I blushed, hard, and tried to think of the lest silly reason why I had screamed -- or at least, how to phrase it to make me not sound like a total ninny.
"...I haz boobs..." I whispered, pointing at my night gown.
Ra sighed, sheathing her sword, her thumb flicking it from a buzzing reddish hue to the off setting. "Very good, miss."
Right now, my attention was flitting between my breasts, which were...okay, so, you know that thing where male authors write about a girl and they like, go:
Wow, my breasts are so firm and jutting, like the nose of propellers right before they get spun up by manly men, with stiff, eager nipples jutting forth proudly into the air, stiff and eager and hard and eager and stiff. And then she stood, languidly stretching her lurid body as she sauntered to the balcony, her hips swaying in time with an erotic beat only she could hear, to lazily smoke a cigarette as the warm and buttery sunlight spread across the whitewashed roofs of Monte Carlo.
That thing?
That was what my own brain was doing.
But it was about
my
boobs.
So that made it okay and not self indulgent at all.
...so, my boobs were just...
fucking
perfect. I had no idea if they were going to grow more or not...but I was, even now, being pumped with yet more girlmoans from my girlification implant, and who knew how such mystical things functioned in a universe with robot maids. Still, right now, they were just about the size of small apples, and through my comfortably thin nightgown, I could see the tiny bumps of my nipples. I wondered if they were sensitive or if that was just porn writing. Of course, it wasn't like I could just
touch
my nipples, Ra was standing right there.
"Well, young miss," Ra said, stiffly. "As it appears that you are not under...attack..." She trailed off and I blushed, jerking my hands away from my chest.
My nipples were
tingling.
Ahhhhhhhhhh!
"...later this morning, I do expect you to arrive for your physical..." Ra paused as I slapped my own hand away from my own breast. "...training." Ra's eyes narrowed slightly -- and I was noticing that she was wearing tights and her tights...made...
My eyes widened.
The bulge between her thighs made it really clear that she had a bulge. That cock I noticed was redundant due to how I had already noticed she had a cock. I blushed, then coughed, then said: "Wait, physical training?"
"You expressed an interest in my rapier," she said, her voice casual.
My eyes are on her dick right now.
I thought.
"And I discussed-"
dick sucked
"-it with Georgette and she agreed that if you want to learn to handle my blade-"
big robot dick "-
then you'd have to begin to train, and it would be an excellent combination with your training in the afternoon-"
Georgette fucking my brains out
"-so, once you have fully roused- "
more like fully Ah-Roused, am I rite? "-
I expect you to be joining me near the stables."
"To handle your sword," I said, my cheeks bright red, my eyes still locked on her bulge.
"Hurmph. Yes." Ra nodded. "A training sword. Specifically. Not mine."
I blushed, nodding. Now. Just. Stop looking at her bulge. Now. Do it.
Ra turned.
And now I was looking at her ass. Which was also
stupidly
hot. Fucking
why
she was a robot space warrior, why was her ass so fucking tight? Why did I want her to sit on my face? Well, because I think all the girlification juice was going straight into my brain. I mean, it was entirely possible that a lifetime of feeling deeply unsexy and unappealing had squashed my own ability to love and lust for other people into an abstract way, and now that I was in a sexy Draco Malfoy body that was rapidly becoming a Dracy...Draci...Dracette?
It was to Lucy's sexuality as kicking over a box full of ravenous locusts was to crop circles.
The door closed.
And I immediately started to grind my brain out against a pillow. I literally flung my blanket back, threw my thighs wide and clamped my thighs around a thick, poofy, tough pillow and started to rock my hips. My breasts heaved and I panted and moaned as if I was on fucking camera because just
hearing
my own
voice
was hitting me with spiky jolts of raw fucking euphoria. It was almost
painful
how good I was feeling. My hand cupped my own breast, squeezing and gently tugged on my nipple, panting and mewling as I ground more and more and more, my hard eager little girldick twitching as the tip of my shaft smeared precum against the pillow. I panted heavily, my breath dragging in raggedly. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" I shuddered, then gasped, then arched my back. Hard.
And I made a total.
Fucking.
Mess.
Translucent cum gushed over the pillow, puddling before me as I trembled and my balls twitched and my spine arched and my breasts heaved as I dragged in as much oxygen as I could. My mewling and gasping was so...fucking...
girly
. Like, I was all high pitched and...femmy sounding and...
I closed my eyes and started to cry.
The door opened and Abby came in. "Mistress, are- oh my Stars!" She hurried over to the nightstand, putting down the tray she was holding, then scrambled onto the bed. "M-Mistress, are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm
too
okay, actually!" I whimpered, sniffling, my nose flaring as tears streamed down my cheeks. "Ahhhh! Hug me as tight as you can!"
"T-That might damage you?" Abby sounded almost like she was about to have an anxiety attack. I leaned into her and let out a mewing of happy sniffling joy-noises. Abby squeezed me and petted my hair and I buried my face against her metallic neck and made alternated between giggling and sniffling. Slowly, the storm of emotions faded and Abby whispered. "I...a-are you okay? I, should I get Nurse Hope, mistress? Are you unhappy about your body? I...I just want...I'm just a housekeeper, this is not my profession!"
I drew back, my hair bedraggled, and wiped my nose. Then I kissed her right on the mouth, her voice squirreling off into a warble, her fans going VRR. I drew back, then whispered. "I'm
very
hap."
Abby nodded. Quietly, she whispered. "S-So, we still have no Maria, but, I can help! You. Get dressed and clothes and...and cleaning."
I nodded. "Right. Um, do you have clothes of, uh, for training? Physical training? Ra is gonna
destroy
me this morning. Ugh. It's gonna be great." I sighed. "I just wish it was all in a montage. Just a series of exciting, musical moments and then, boom! I'm all buff and stuff."
Abby's glowing eyes blinked. "...like...a factory?" she asked. "Do they have fitness factories in your Earth?"
"Kinda!" I said, cheerfully.
Abby blinked again. "Remarkable!"
***
Polly put out the food for me, and I ate it, glad that a lifetime of being forced to eat any old shit that I was given meaning that even this weird Space British food went down the mouth hole just fine. Then Jeanette checked me over with her scanner and pronounced that the transformination ("It's not called that!") was working just perfectly.
Then she asked...
The Question.
It was while I was dressing up in the training clothes that Abby had laid out (and after I had gone, like, "Listen, it look great!" after Abby had apologized ten times for not laying it out properly like a Maria would have) that Jeanette said: "So, do you want to undergo some surgery for your bits?"
I stood perfectly still, buttoning up the training tunic (which, still boy clothes, but as a trans girl, I am
allowed
to look like a sexy butch twink, you judgmental
motherfuckers,
back
off
) and considered that question. For that was the question, was it not. It sure wasn't to be or not not to be, get wrecked Shakespeare. The question was: Do you want to be a cool gender transgressing transgirl who has both a cute dick and cute tits and all would bow before you? Or did you want a pussy, now, now, give me that pussy, make like She-Ra and get yourself a pussy between your legs (Warning for previous sentence: season 5 she-ra spoilers.)
Cause, like...
I actually did kinda like having my dick.
But I also hated it with every fiber of my being?
But I would miss it if it was gone.
But I also wanted a pussy so badly that I wanted to scream and run in circles.
But if it was
gone
then I'd want it back.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhh," I said.
Abby, who was helping to tie off the draw my clothing just a bit straighter on me, giggled. "Uh, are you okay? Having a blue screen?" She paused, then blinked. "H-Humans can't crash, can they?"
"No they cannot, boxie," Jeanette said, chuckling.
I cocked my head slowly to the side, blinking. "I can't choose!" I said.
"All right, there's no rush," Jeanette said.
I breathed slowly out, sagging a bit. "But, like, I want to have a dick, but I also don't."
"Oh," Jeanette said, then put her hands on her hips. "That's not the same thing as not having no choice -- you got a very definite choice right there, tarnation!" She shook her head. "Do you want to have a stem you can extend, or, maybe always have it swinging?" She cocked her head a bit.
"Uh..." I blinked, again. "Like. Could I...have a switch?"
"Sure," she said, cheerfully.
"Like, I can just flick a switch. Pop! Out comes out a big old dick? Then I flick it back and wham! Pussy town?"
"Of course," Jeanette said. "It'd be expensive, but you're the Earl of Arundel." She chuckled. "It'll mean you can't buy a gold plated starship without waiting a few weeks, but I
think
you can survive the wait."