Shore Leave: Part 5 (Patreon)

Regina opened her eyes as the sunlight still managed to trickle in through the blocked window. It wasn’t so much that the light was disturbing her beauty sleep, but rather that she was especially sensitive to changes in temperature. The sun hit the window and the room grew warmer. As the room grew warmer, Regina began feeling too hot to sleep and upon rolling over to see that she’d slept well into the afternoon, she had to force herself to admit she was awake. Immediately, she reached for her phone and pulled up a slew of shemale porn videos with themes ranging from feminization to supposed hypnosis compilations designed to keep her femininity on her mind. She rubbed away at the tiny, shriveled dicklet that lay between her legs without even bothering to take off her panties. The soft fabric felt especially good against her and well-lotioned skin, and soon she felt her body reacting to both her own administrations as well as the upbeat music played over a slew of sexy male-on-dickgirl sex scenes.  She rubbed and teased faster and faster until eventually reaching a gentle orgasm, dribbling a couple drops of semen from her still limp micropenis into her panties. She laid there for a moment, basking in the glow of the morning light before forcing herself out of bed.

“Fiiiine.” She griped. “I guess I’m up~”

Eve power walked up the Ibiza street, flashing flirtatious smiles at the many olive-skinned boys she happened past. She’d been surprised at both the number of men who hit on her despite knowing she was trans as well as the number of men who were absolutely oblivious to it. Even when she started talking and her husky, deeper-than-most-women register should have given her away, it seemed that Spanish guys just couldn’t see through her feminine wiles. Still, it was all just as well. She still got to have her fun while not having to be chained down to any one suitor. Back in America, she’d have practically been stoned walking up the street the way she was, but after moving to England for college, she found the community accepting enough to allow her feminine identity to flourish and grow. She hadn't been brave enough to take the plunge into hormones or surgery, but for now, padded bras and breast forms would do to keep her looking good and girly. That and having been one of the lucky few selected in a drawing to win a free, all-expense paid trip to Ibiza, Eve had spent the last few days letting her flag fly high and drinking in the attention.

(1)

On her floor were a couple other trans girls who also entered the contest and won. They were sweet and one of them was especially hot, but they only spent a few hours together at separate points in the trip, usually after they’d all come back from whatever wild night they were having or in the early mornings if they happened to bump into each other. Eve passed by a group of girls leaving a yoga class and tilted her head to see the plastic bimbo of an instructor smiling at her from atop a small hill. Regina, or “Rocket” as she apparently liked to be called was even more of an attention whore than Eve was and loved showing off her feminine, plastic-enhanced body. It may have surprised her that as many men thought she was cis as they did, but when it came to Rocket, Eve could easily see how anyone who wasn’t specifically looking for the signs wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not she was trans just by looking at her. Her long, full hair and subtle curves gave her a sensational figure that virtually anyone would mistake for an ordinary hot girl.

(2)

The other trans girl on the trip was an especially ostentatious attention-whore who called herself Fannie. Granted, with a name like that it was no wonder what kind of personality she had. Fannie was definitely trans, but Eve couldn’t help but wonder if she was more fixated on dressing feminine than looking it. If Rocket was the bimbo and Eve was the trap, Fannie was the straight up drag queen. She was proud of it too. During one of their increasingly drunken nighttime hangouts, the only barely feminine-looking girl had gushed in the hot tub about the number of howling crowds she had cheering for her at her shows, few and far between as they were.

Fannie was loud and obnoxious and hardly tried to mask the depth of her voice at all, apparently more excited by the raunchy, Dr. Frankenfurter look than anything more subdued. She constantly bragged about her exploits and how this one girl was super into her at a bar her first day there. It was up in the air as to whether or not many of the things she said were actually true, but she was heavily drunk at the time so Eve and Rocket gave her a bit of a pass. Plus, it was fun to play along with someone so outrageous and still part of the trans community. In a way, it was freeing to see someone so outgoing and unshy about who they were and who they wanted to be.

Eve wandered into a nail salon and sat down for her appointment, relying on the English speaking guide who worked there to translate everything she wanted done. She may not have been as loud as Fannie or as passably pretty as Rocket, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t out to live her best life on vacation either. Gently brushing her hair behind her ears, Eve put on her best British accent and began explaining to the guide that she wanted fresh acrylic nails and a pedicure before her toenails were painted a generously bright pink. She wanted to be the belle of the ball wherever she went, and girls like her floormates made it clear to her that in this endeavor, laziness and mediocre effort simply wouldn’t do.

Fannie stared into one of the hand mirrors hanging on a rack in an open air shop, ignoring the price tag in favor of an opportunity to check her makeup before heading into the dance club she’d picked out for the night. More accurately, it was the first one she’d picked out. If Fannie was good at anything it was organized logistics and despite her exuberant, in-your-face personality when she went out, she took great pride in her managerial abilities even while inebriated. Her plan was effectively to hop from bar to bar as she found what she liked and didn’t like about each one until she had seen all of the ones on her list. Those she’d left behind at previous bars would be eagerly waiting for her return if they got on well enough, or if she especially liked them, she’d just stay and have her fun trying to get into their pants. Fannie smacked her lips together having gobbed on a new coat of thick red lipstick and posed for herself in the mirror before using one finger to dap away the excess product, all while ignoring the increasingly irate shopkeeper calling to her in Spanish.

“Fucking….Flawless.” She said, shimmying her budding tits before turning to leave.

(3)

In truth, Fannie had been on a mission since day one to find a particularly stunning woman she’d hit it off with one morning in a bar. She wasn’t typically one to go for other girls unless she was sure that they had a sizeable cock to fill her with attached to their girly bodies, but in this case, she was willing to make an exception. It was rare that she found someone who was so beautiful AND could spend so much time just talking without ever mentioning sex or hitting on her explicitly. No, she thought, it was just a nice time. A nice time that left the woman’s cold amber eyes burned into her mind and kept short golden hair and slender face flashing in the back of her mind like a permanent afterimage.

She walked into the club and immediately took a deep breath. She might have been a tough nut on the outside, but the reason she gussied herself up so much and put on such a show of sexual energy was to beat, bludgeon, and bury every trace of her considerable insecurities. She made herself feel hot because she knew that she didn’t feel it when she was alone at home, staring into the mirror at too manly a face atop a pair of too-wide shoulders. She’d recently started taking hormones which did allow her a slight but growing pair of breasts that were by now visible under the deep neckline of her flashy teal dress and matching beaded necklace. She saw her hips and wished she had enough money to just get them sculpted into something more plump and womanly without having to gain weight for a bbl. Fannie tired of all of the shaving and hair removal, longing for the days when she’d have the cash to get the lot of it permanently lasered off.

“Almost there. Can’t stop now.” She would tell herself. “The sun will come out tomorrow.”

The second statement was becoming more and more somber over time. She’d escaped the judgment of a father obsessed with having a military son and the sobbing of a mother who couldn’t accept a daughter only to find herself unable to physically become who she was on the inside. She could be there one day, she would tell herself, once she had the money. Everything she wanted was just a price tag away, just around the bend.

Tomorrow.

…But no matter how hard she seemed to fight and no matter how long she waited, tomorrow never came.

Fannie threw back a shot of tequila to wipe away the sad thoughts and refocus her attention on the present. She scanned the club from her stool, searching for anyone familiar or interesting looking. Adjusting her top, the intrepid trans woman made one last effort to fluff her hair and reveal as much skin as possible. If she found the girl from before, she thought, it was important to look her best. But even then, she hadn’t come all the way to Ibiza just to become obsessed with a woman who might be impossible to find and was probably straight to begin with. If she found a guy that wanted to take her home for the night however, she definitely wasn’t going to try to fight him off either.

Eyeing a particularly cute looking twink with slicked-back hair, Fannie took one last deep breath and began making her way onto the dance floor.

“Alright bitch.” She told herself. “Time to show everyone who the fuck you are.”