Not just a poll - author's story (Patreon)

- Oh my goodness! No! No ... It can't be ... It's all nonsense ...

I stared in shock at the monitor screen checking the vote that I launched yesterday ... Damn it, it all seemed unrealistic to me at that moment. Those boobs that dangled so freely and pulled my skin down, long hair that I never had before and that now grew out of my head and my voice ... I didn’t even speak my native language ... And I’m silent. about the fact that I ended up in this house instead of my office in a moment.

This poll ... and I ... Yes, I love writing stories about the magical transformations of men into women. And this is my hobby, which I enjoy. There are even people who like it as much as I do. But ... but I didn't know that all this could really change my life that way.

Yesterday I posted this poll as a way to vote for people who read my stories. I wrote about a first person character who suddenly woke up in a female body. All of this was interesting and unpredictable, because I definitely could not come up with stories until the completion of the survey.

- Secretary! 30-40 years old! Married! No! .... Damn it! This ... this ...

I heard someone walking in this house. My heart was beating as if it was about to jump out of my chest, and a million butterflies were flying in my stomach. I just wanted to sink into the ground ...

- Honey, aren't you going to work? What's on the computer?

The man quickly moved in my direction and I just in panic quickly closed the page of the site with the "survey" looking at the last item in shock, hoping that this was not true. However, instead of behaving as usual, I suddenly smiled at him and kissed him gently on the lips, feeling genuine disgust from this, but this is the first thing that came to my mind at that moment.

"He gets her behavior when someone is around" .... "He kept his knowledge and got her" ... These are the last points of the survey that I managed to read. These thoughts swirled in my head when trying to behave normally only continued to behave like a loving wife. While my "husband" was there I managed to do makeup, put on earrings and even uncomfortable office clothes with a tight pencil skirt ... I even wanted to make him go to work and of course I did it, realizing only later that it was all unnecessary ... Everything continued on the street and at "work", where I smiled affably to everyone, although everything inside me was boiling with rage and shame ... I turned up and prayed that it would end faster ...