Feminization

I'd smoked since I was eighteen, and nothing had ever made me stop. Until my wife found that doctor with impossible heels and a predator's smile.

I walked out of that meeting with my blood boiling. That night I didn’t want to play soft: I wanted to destroy the two boys waiting for me on their knees on the mattress.

Marcos asked me to look gorgeous by the time he got home. While Carla was doing my hair, I remembered everything I did to be his—and what I’m still willing to give.

I touched it for only a moment, and the softness of the lace awakened something dormant. That night I dreamed of wearing it, and knew I would return for it sooner or later.

The first time barely hurt; this time I climbed on top and set the pace, determined to show him everything I had learned to feel.

Every Sunday, when she left, I opened her wardrobe and became someone else in front of the mirror. That afternoon she forgot her keys and came back early.

In the mirror I stopped being Sebastián. I put on her stockings, her skirt, her perfume, and became the woman nobody knew I carried inside.

Two men enter The Showcase thinking they’re untouchable. Only one will leave as he arrived; the other, the audience has already decided to turn into something sweet, obedient, and forever different.

I told my parents I’d spend the day with a friend. In reality, I was going to Renata’s, where a wig, a pink cage, and a man who knew what he wanted from me were waiting.

I saved his number as “S.1.” Two days to regret it, and not once did I want to: I wanted them to use me again, worse than the first time.

“Good night, princess,” my wife whispered in my ear. And something inside me, something she had planted weeks earlier, answered as if it had been waiting for that name all my life.

I drove at night transformed into another woman and no one knew. One slip at a stop was enough for him to discover who I really was.

The young master’s wardrobe held a black uniform with a white cap, and Don Aurelio told her that once she put it on, she would cease to be Marcial forever.

I’d spent a year staring at that toy in the drawer without daring to use it. That night, in my lace nightgown with the padlock locked, I knew I was finally going to let it open me all the way.

I’d spent months begging her for a session. When I finally stepped into her studio, I understood she hadn’t summoned me to photograph her, but to teach me obedience.

I had kept my secret hidden at the back of the closet for months. That night I opened the door in a pleated skirt and red bow—and never wanted to turn back.