Feminization

For years I kept making the same joke to my wife in bed. What I didn’t know was that she had been keeping score of every word — and that our getaway to the coast had a plan.

I only wanted to feel something new in bed. What I didn’t expect was to watch my own boyfriend surrender the same way I did to that huge man.

I watched her direct the move in that rough voice and knew I’d never get her out of my head. What I didn’t imagine was everything hidden under that corset.

She crossed her legs in front of me and something didn’t add up. Her voice was sweet, but her hands were too big. It took me days to understand what had stolen my sleep.

I agreed to help them with the faculty contest. I never imagined that in front of that mirror, made up and in that tight dress, I would stop recognizing myself.

The first time I entered his office I did it with my head down and a borrowed dress; I left feeling, at last, like myself.

I went to the office with the plug in and stockings under my clothes, dreaming of what my wife would do when I got home. That night, onstage, everything changed.

Every night before bed, Carla whispered «good night, princess.» It took me months to understand that the word wasn’t a game, but an order.

I wore the skirt under my pants, got into the car, and let him decide my name. That night I stopped pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

It started as a joke: putting on the pink collar in exchange for pizza. But when I pressed the button, I stopped being myself. Something else started moving my body from within.

He drank the violet liquid once, for revenge. But that night, his new body learned something his male mind could never forget.

She left the trunks on the bed and ordered me to try on every garment. That night I understood the journey was not a destination, but a test of how much I belonged to her.

I advanced beside my sponsor, not behind her like the other cases. I was the highest-rated, and that night they all wanted to buy me.

I had never gone down more than three steps dressed as Lía. That afternoon, with the white lace brushing my thighs, I decided I would make it to the street.

I shaved, put on the wig and heels, and talked to the camera as if someone might really show up. One night, someone did.

I climbed those stairs with my heart racing, never imagining I would leave the apartment transformed, with a woman’s name on my lips.

The stained dress still hung on the door like a trophy, and she no longer feared any mirror or any gaze.

I thought it was all over when the principal paid me and sent me away. I had no idea the real owner of my body was her, the woman at the next desk.

I accepted the date dressed as a woman, not knowing that afternoon in his car I would decide everything that came after. He just looked at me and said: “You’re going to have clients.”

Lorena dressed me as the most desired woman of the night, told me eight men were waiting, and for the first time I didn’t want to run from what I felt.