Large Lady – A Short Sex Story

“I’m fat. OK so what? I am still sexy and desirable. I hope that my overly weighted body is not really the turn off that men sometimes say it is. I love to eat and in this day and age there’s nothing wrong with that as long as you admit to the fact that you like food. The thing that I love most is ice cream and I could easily eat a pint and a half of chocolate chip anything after being fucked hard by a real man. Now, there is an idea!! I should be eating it while he’s fucking me. Pure ecstasy!

I have lived in this town since I was a youngster. There has been no escaping its hold on either myself, or my family before me. After school finished I decided that sex was the only way to make a living here, so, with that in mind, I began to market my body. It all began in the early 1990’s when I was barely 18 years old. At first it was easy, there seemed to be a huge demand for my services, but, as time wore on and my youthful looks began to disintegrate through drug abuse and too much ‘good’ living, demand slowed to a crawl I decided things had to change rapidly or I figured the rest of my life would be spent working night shift at the local McDonald’s.

In the early days, my pimp used to call me at least twice a night, and it didn’t matter what time it was, he just called. He’d ask me, no, tell me to ‘perform’ for all his high roller clients who wished to be endlessly entertained after counting their winnings or bemoaning their losses at the local club. More often than not it seemed they had loses, large amounts of cash disappearing into ‘not so friendly’ bars and casinos that now covered every square inch of this city. They threw parties, which I attended, that went for hours, the money was great and even though my Pimp took plenty, I’d soon built up a small fortune in savings for my planned retirement. I’d always seen this profession as short-term and was quite surprised that I”d lasted as long as I had, due mainly to Albert my pimp’s, insistence that if I quit he would shoot me through the temple with the ’45 that he had holstered between his very broad white shoulders. Albert scared the shit out of me. I was half his size and to be honest he’d been really kind when I needed someone to get me started in this ‘business.’ I have no regrets, even though he’d so often scared me to death with his empty but realistic threats. He became my watchdog, my eyes and my protector. One time in the Mirage, I was being fucked at all angles by 3 of the largest black men you’ve ever seen. I was screaming for help while they had their way with me. Luckily Albert had waited outside the hotel room and when he heard my cries for help he’d burst in and broken up that orgy of fear by pointing his sawn off shotgun very deliberately at each of their enormous black dicks.

It was after that experience that I begged him for a change. I didn’t want a change in career, I just wanted a sex change. I needed to become the woman I had always yearned to be. As a young boy I knew I was different. My urge to dress up in ladies clothing and put on make-up each day, kind of made me think twice about my forced gender. I had feelings of femininity from the age of nine and they only grew stronger as I moved into my teenage years. At school my friends were all female and the boys used to kick the crap out of me each week, calling me a fag or other strange names. I had no idea what that meant, as I was younger than most of those who partook in such activities, but in later life it became apparent that they were right and I was definitely a closet female. This made me smile as I now knew where my destiny lay.”

“Male prostitution was not something I’d planned on doing as a full-time job, but it seemed like easy money. At school, when I was 15, I used to suck boys off behind the dinner hall for 3 bucks a pop. They loved it and frankly so did I. These were the boys, or perhaps I should say losers, who couldn’t get a real woman to fuck them, but were able to simulate the experience through my mouth. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, they always paid, and I always performed. They had to keep quiet about me and I about them. By the time I was 18 and ready to leave, I had several thousand dollars in the bank, and then I met Albert, so life seemed set. I started working with some urgency on ‘the strip’ making thousands each night. Albert took most of the cash that I received and banked it for me. He was aware that I’d wanted to have the ‘Op’ and so at his suggestion; he became my manager and banker all in one. This arrangement was great, until that night with the 3 guys in the Mirage. It was time to switch sexes, and Albert held the key to my dreams, all seventy-two thousand. We consulted the best man in town, Dr Ray, and he agreed to convert me to femininity. I would even receive change from my savings! What a plan!. Albert recommended that once my surgery was complete, I become a female prostitute, otherwise known as a ‘hoe’, and remain with him until I retired. I presumed that his intentions were honorable, and therefore I’d agreed. It took 1 year from the first operation to the last, but unfortunately I still had my dick. It was too much money and too complicated a process to remove it. I was so pleased with the rest of the job the surgeon had performed, that I spent hours admiring myself in front of every mirror I could find. Albert nicknamed me ‘Freak’, which upset me a little, but I knew he meant no harm. He used to shout at me across the room, ‘Freak how we gonna make money when you still got a dick?”

He was sometimes hilarious when making fun of my surgeries, calling me the ‘bitch of the west with the hairiest chest’ We laughed often about the reaction his clients would have when I uncovered my member just after they’d fondled my fake breasts! Albert insisted that they’d find it funny and that I shouldn’t concern myself with such trivia. “This is tinsel town baby, what you do stays here. It never goes home.” My complete trust lay in his hands and we opened for business again, late 1999.”

“Albert was right. It seemed to work. Men and women alike came from all over the planet just to ‘use’ me. They all had their fetishes and to be honest they were all more freakish than I. One night Albert set me up with this ‘dude’ from Texas who wanted a shemale as a kind of circus addition to the already expensive and lavish party he was throwing for his best friend Kirk. We agreed an astronomical fee and everyone was happy. The party itself was superb. I was fortunate to arrive after it had started, but long before it went into full swing. The food and drink were flowing like there was no tomorrow and Kirk was introduced to me not knowing that I was destined to be his final surprise of the evening. When we set eyes on each other, there was something about him that stopped me dead in my tracks. He was too beautiful to be a man and I truly believed that he could also have a change sex and become a woman. His perfect skin and soft features led me to think that he could also be a model. We spoke for a few minutes and it was during this conversation that I discovered his real passion, ice cream. He ran a company that was the largest manufacturer of ice cream in Texas. He disappeared after a while and the party continued. I was ushered into a huge bedroom with the biggest bed I’d ever seen. The ‘dude’ came in demanding to see me naked. He was paying so I didn’t see too much of a problem with this request. Albert however demanded payment. Six G’s was the agreed amount and he paid in luscious new one hundred-dollar bills. Five of the six were mine to keep. This was easy money once again. I stripped and he laughed. The prick had no manners. “Blow me” he demanded, “and swallow the lot!”. I told him that would cost him an extra three thousand and without hesitation he paid. I sucked him hard and he loved it. Albert loved it too. The ‘dude’ came buckets all over the chair he was sitting on. Fucking pervert!

20 minutes later Kirk entered the room,  and my instructions were to be naked under the sheets but that under no circumstance was I to remove my panties. I was promised that Kirk was going to fuck me and that his friends were all going to stay in the room and take pictures. This was bizarre. Why would he want pictures fucking a transvestite? Unless he didn’t know of course?? I was never one to argue or question, and after all they had paid in full, it was their choice. I had the money, they gave the orders.

In came Kirk, the victim, shouting, staggering and partying and from the look underneath his pants, already very hard indeed. He was so drunk! This wasn’t going to be too much fun. I hated to fuck drunk men. They always seemed to be in bed for the wrong reasons. He was celebrating his 40th birthday and had balloons and ribbons tied to his neck and arms. The ‘dude’ was standing with his video camera and another guy from the party with his Nikon. Kirk was rolling on the bed trying to disrobe, so I decided to make life easy for him and assisted in this process. He was now fully naked, other than his underwear. He crawled over beside me and we started to fondle one another. He commented on my wonderful hard breasts and without further ado I suggested we just fuck and get it over and done with. The ‘dude’ had the camera rolling and moved in for close-ups. I went to remove Kirk’s underwear and was shocked and stunned when I discovered he had no dick. He was a woman! A fucking woman who was now a man! The laughter must have started after his friends saw the stunned look on my face and then on Kirk’s too. He now knew I was formally a man as his hands were resting on my balls, looking aimlessly for a vagina. We were a perfect match!”

“That night changed my life. Kirk and I fell madly in love with one another and within 3 months he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I moved to Texas and started to eat ice cream for kicks. We were married soon after and now we live happily in our huge home in the suburbs of Dallas. There is no substitute for great sex, and he fits perfectly around the penis that I’d saved from a certain death. His obsession to become a man in all departments, ended after we met, and now we have an onsite nightly freak show with our cartons of ice cream and out determination to be a married couple. Who says fairy tales don’t happen in real life! They did for me. A marriage made not in heaven but in the doctor’s surgery.”

Got an opinion? Let's hear it!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.