Penis

It was a week later. I had sucked 5 dicks. I had been eaten out 4 times. One of those times Bree had put her thumb just over my pucker and I had squirmed until she took it away. Then at night I still thought about it. I had been finger banged once. It occupied the majority of my fantasies now.

Then I woke up with a penis in my hand.

It was mine.

I had raging morning wood and woke up idly feeling myself up. It was that hard in the morning feeling where it’s not there for sex, just making sure all systems are functioning. It’s anoying but feels good so you don’t mind it too hard. Until it gets too hard.

It took me an embarrassingly long time for me to figure out what was wrong with the picture. And when I did, I had to rewind everything in the past two months. Had it all really happened? I realized at that moment that I had one hand underneath my girl breast, and one on what might as well be my girl cock.

Shit. Freakout?

What good would it do? I’ve learned to trust my senses over the past unreal months. Aisling is me. Aisling is a girl. Aisling has a penis. Aisling might as well get up out of bed, because Aisling has to shower.

I looked down for a checkup. Well it has foreskin now. That’s new. I skrunched it back to see the glans, and man did that feel weird. I don’t even have the words to describe how weird it was. I did that dick flop thing as I got into the shower, bouncing around at a 90 degree angle to my body and weaving back and forth with every step.

I kept my brain numb to stay functioning as I washed it off in the shower. The newly protected head was so tender the falling water felt like getting pounded in the eyeball. I still washed around it. Yup, still a vagina underneath. No testicles. I looked like it was just an extension of my clitoris, but a full penis.

Maybe I should see if I can still jack off? Oh it’s gone. While my concentration had wandered by penis had disapeared as mysteriously as it had come.

The panic chose that moment to overtake me, and I collapsed to my knees in the shower and started crying.

The crying jag only lasted a couple of minutes. My whole world collapsed and was back together again in the time it takes a poptart to cool. If I had learned nothing else than I had learned that I was still me. I might be a girl me, or a bisexual me, or a shemale me, but I was still me. Nothing could affect the core of my planet, just the surface.

Clearly this was not an intended effect or Mr. Glome would have said something. No, none of the effects here were intended. Let’s call it an unintended complication. In anycase I needed a better idea of what was happening.

Hair dripping down my back, I went over to my desk and hunted up a peice of paper. On the backside of an old math test I’d tossed on the desk, I wrote: Dear Mr. Glome, I have a penis and I don’t think I’m supposed to have a penis.

Then I went and dried my hair better, put on underwear, and sat looking at the paper in my underwear. I had decided that he wasn’t writing back anytime soon, and searched for where I put my pen to write him again. When I glanced at the note, pen in hand, there was a return message. In my handwriting.

Ms. McKinnon, my experience with human sex organs is limited, but I seem to remenber that women are not supposed to have those.

I wrote back the word “Right?!” and then underlined it a couple of times. I stared at the piece of paper for awhile, but nothing happened. When I turned to look out the window and wonder about what I should wear and turned back to check, there was an answer for me.

Is it a permanent affixture?

No.!

I got up to get dressed. I had wanted to wear a dress that day. I had pretty dresses, and I wanted to wear one, goddamn it all to hell. And now, with this penis thing going on? I could think of a million things that could go wrong and all of them, all of them, featured a girl (me) with a raging erection poking through her dress during class.

I found a clean pair of jeans on the floor, where clothes went, and hiked them on. When I glanced at the paper there was another return note: This is delicate. I will need to examine you if you wish to know more.

I figured as much. How soon can you do it?

I decided to test something, and glanced away from the paper for a moment. When I looked back there was a reply. I cannot travel to see you immediately. I will finish what I’m doing here and then be there in 57 hours, give or take. From then I have to be in the area for a month so that I can be captured.

Again, I missed what would have been a very good time for a followup. Please see me when you can. I know I wasn’t wild about being a girl (sorry about yelling at you) but I’m even less wild about being a girl with a penis.

I looked away, and when I turned back there was no new writing on the paper. I figured that was the end of the conversation.

It was the Saturday before Haloween and there wasn’t any tech that day. Susan had cancelled it so that everyone could go party, and not because she wanted to go party. That would be unprofessional. It was just for us. And not for her. Obviously.

I waited for a moment to see if my penis would come back, and when it didn’t I got back into my Pajamas and didn’t look at the plastic bag peaking out from under my bed as I went downstairs for breakfast.

It was noon, and mom had made me a sandwich under ceran wrap on the counter. I opened it and came to the table to find the comics. My phone chirped from beside me and I checked the message: picking you up at 8. Wear something you can get fucked in

I wrote Autumn back, I’ve got the perfect thing

“Mom?” I realized at that moment that a Haloween party would probably go past curfew just a tad. “Do you mind if I go to a Haloween party?”

Mom sighed but didn’t look up from her book, “How long have you known about this party, Aisling?”

Oh. “Um… two weeks?”

“And why am I just hearing about it now?”

“Because I’m a teenager and bad at responsibility?”

“Damn right you are dearheart.” She put her book down refilled her coffee and came to sit next to me at the breakfast table. For a moment she looked very tired. Then she said, “Aisling, you know I was a teenager once.”

“Yeah mom.” Frankly the idea had never ocurred to me.

“And I had my own Haloween parties. So I’m in no position to tell you not to drink. And even if I was, I’m under no pretentions that you would listen to me.” She drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, “We’ll say this. You’re going to explore your limits in anycase. I want you to get to the point where you know you’re out of control and then stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on drinking mom.”

“You weren’t planning on telling me about the party either. So planning is also something you’re bad at.” She sighed again, “If you go beyond your limits you’re going to have fun, because you and I are going to get up at noon and go to an amusement park.”

I shrugged like it would be easy, because I had never experienced a hangover before. And for someone who had never experienced a hangover it didn’t sound too bad.

“And Aisling?” She leaned in close, “If I hear that you’ve gotten in a car with anyone who has had even a little bit to drink, I’ll chaperone the next school dance.”

This is a much worse threat than I could have imagined. “Okay mom. Um… Can I maybe get money for an Uber?”

“I’m trying to decide if you’re old enough to budget for your own drunken antics—what am I saying, we’ve already established that you aren’t. Yes dear, I’ll throw an extra twenty bucks in.” She stood and took my finished plate to the sink. “I’m not going to talk to the parents of whomever is throwing the party. But you will have your phone on you, and you will answer when I call, and you will come home if I tell you to.”

I nodded.

“Okay. Now in case you need extraction, like the situation gets weird and you don’t feel safe? Text me your code phrase and you’ll get a call about a family emergency and suddenly have to leave.”

I laughed, “And you said that making up code phrases was silly.”

I fingered the bag I was holding. Then I opened it and dumped the contents on the bed. What fell out onto the bed wasn’t a bikini, or a corset, or platform heels. In a way it was a little worse.

A bright yellow tank-top, red suspenders, and hemmed cut-offs.

“You’re going to be cold,” Mom told me. “You remember, I always put extra room in your Halloween costumes so you could wear a coat under them.”

“I’ll be fine mom,” I had told her. And then I had bought them anyway.

For every year I had trick-er-treated it had snowed the night before. Up until two years ago, and it looked like it wouldn’t this year either. Try telling me global warming isn’t happening. (That year it wouldn’t be until December 19th that it snowed in the whole state. All the ski resorts had been trying to buy a senetor not already owned by a patroleum company to do something about it. So far, no luck.) But it was bitter cold outside.

I sighed and stripped out of the pajamas I’d worn all day.

Is there a correct way to put on panty hose? Turns out there was. Well that was why I bought two pairs. This time I unrolled them down to the toe, dipped my piddies in, and rolled them up to my thigh. Then I had to figure out how to do that with the other leg without tearing this pair too. I unwound them and did both legs at the same time. When I got to my hips I said a little prayer and pulled them up all the way.

I turned around in the mirror, not knowing what a run in a stocking looked like, but figuring that a lack of abnormality meant that there wasn’t one. I can a hand over my thigh, feeling the bright white, silky, nylon. It felt great on my skin, and made me feel…

… sexy?

Well definitely that. Confident too. Like a soft outer core of sexiness with a chewy center of self reliance. Something about putting them on made me feel like I was okay going out into the world naked. I wasn’t naked, I was wearing hose, and I was going to be wearing other clothes besides. But they felt like some kind of armor against whatever the world might say about me.

I put on the hot shorts and the tank top. I had to stop myself from tugging it down further. Then I took the shorts off and clipped the suspenders to the back. Shorts back on I threw the suspenders over my shoulders and fastened them in the front. I checked in the mirror. Only one thing missing. I put my hair into a side pony tail.

There. Perfect Misty.

Bruce honked outside.