Shore Leave: Part 7 (Patreon)

Eve stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower even before she’d gotten her clothes off. She had a habit of staring at her body in disdain whenever she was naked, imagining herself without the broad, manly chest she was cursed to be born with or the narrow hips and square jaw of a guy simply pretending to be a girl. Worst of all was the penis, of course. That tiny, limp, shriveled dicklet had been the bane of her female sense of self for as long as she’d been alive and aware of her own gender identity. No matter how badly she wanted it, no amount of hair styling, hormone therapy, crossdressing, or boobjobs were ever going to make her a real woman in her mind as long as she still had that hideous appendage. It was always there, haunting her. Not big enough to be considered a sexual feature and completely rubbed to impotence, it served virtually no sexual purpose than to deny her her own femininity.

Sighing, she stepped into the shower.

Eve allowed herself the time to lament her body’s incongruence with her mind each day so that she wouldn’t be overcome by the number of failed dates and ruined romances as a result of having it. But in the same fashion, her showers felt like a way to sort of wash away those feelings of discontentment and misery. The suds from her home-brought loofa and strawberry bodywash cascaded over her firm shoulders and small, budding breasts and with it, Eve heaved another warm sigh of relaxation. Having a penis in terms of bathing was nothing new or novel, but as she scrubbed herself clean and fresh, she continued to dream about the days when she would finally have the money for bottom surgery. One day, Eve thought, she’d be able to go on dates and bring boys back home without them running off and vanishing when they got her clothes off or becoming furious at her lack of willingness to warn them beforehand. Sure, it was kind of a dirty, shitty thing to do, she realized. She’d heard it plenty of times at that point, but in her mind, none of the people getting upset with her knew what it was like to be born in the wrong body, so none of them had room to chastise her for struggling with it.

With her shower finished, Eve looked at her phone before throwing on the day’s eye-catching outfit and head out for a date coordinated via dating app. 11:47. If she was quick, she would be able to doll herself up enough to pass easily and still not look like a circus clown doing it. Heaving another sigh, the blonde forced herself into a too-small red tanktop and a pair of too big red shorts, making sure to cinch and button accordingly to make herself look as girly as possible before moving to the mirror to do her makeup.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m late. I had a hard time getting an uber.” Evie said, smiling cutely as she nervously fixed her hair.

“Hey, no problem. I was just enjoying the sights in the meantime.” Her date said, smiling at the hottie he’d found online.

Evie grinned coyly. She knew he was checking her out. Even better was that he clearly liked what he was seeing. Of course, he didn’t know the full story behind her plumped up breasts and padded hips. Evie had a terrible habit of omitting the fact that she was born a man, often times blatantly ignoring any opportunity to come clean.

But why should she? All that information would do is convince the guy that she was less loveable than she was. She always felt bad about deceiving guys like this, but it wasn’t as if she was denying something that they’d asked about. Plus, in her mind it was none of their business unless the relationship became serious. With her surgeries complete and her identity both mentally and physically solidified as a woman cemented by numerous medical procedures and endless hormone treatments, there was no reason why anyone would see her as anything but a skinny blonde in fiery red.

(1)

With a bounce in her step and a giddy bite of her lip, the blonde brit bobbled over and wrapped her arm around her date’s, eager for an exciting day and with any luck, an even more exciting night.

Farsi swished her way down the street, enjoying the warm summer air and the salty taste if the nearby sea. It amazed her that in so many places on the island she could hear the ocean clear as day while in others she could see the ocean in the distance, but the sound still wouldn’t reach her. She’d spent so long living with her parents that time away was just the thing she needed to really find herself in a place where she wasn’t going to be regulated or moderated by a doting mother or overly helpful dad. Granted, she still had means. As the only daughter of some fairly financially smart parents, she was allowed a greater amount of financial freedom than the majority of other college students. Her trip to Ibiza was just one more demonstration of the wealth that she largely insisted she didn’t have, as was the $4000 spending allowance they’d given her for the two weeks.

In truth, Farsi didn’t entirely know what to do with all the money she’d been allotted for the stay. She figured that most of it was probably just meant to go to necessities like food and lodging, but there was also way more than enough for that. She figured that splurging on food wasn’t so bad and a bit of shopping wouldn’t hurt either, but it still left the otherwise frugal girl with a ridiculous amount of excess. Even with the trip at the halfway point, Farsi still had a whopping $3000 left to spend.

As she wandered up the quiet street, she found an open air bar run like a concession stand in broad daylight. There was a fleeting moment in which she convinced herself not to buy a drink. It was just barely afternoon and she didn’t have a reason to be drinking so early in the day, especially since it’d be a pointless waste of money.

…Then again, she thought…

If her parents gave her that much money, they were obviously fine with parting with that amount. She folded her slender arms in front of herself and began twisting back and forth, feeling her long brown hair flow over her shoulders as her heart increased in pace at the selfish thoughts popping into her mind like weeds blooming out of control. Plus, she continued to reason with herself, there was hardly anything to do by herself while also trying to be as frugal as she could. What was the point in having that much money if she wasn’t going to use it? It wasn’t like she’d come all the way to Ibiza just to save money by doing nothing while she was there.

A broad smile filled her face and her eyes shone at the bartender looking flirtily at her, beckoning her to approach. It was the most devious thought she could come up with to get hammered during the day and go on a drunken shopping spree and on some level she felt guilty for the idea. But it was that very guilt that twisted her stomach into a giddy knot and made her heart slam against her ribcage harder than any time outside of the loss of her virginity at 16 to a captain in the school’s JROTC unit. It was exciting.

Too exciting.

With another bright smile, Farsi bounced over to the bar and pointed to a bottle of rum that she figured would make for a good start to her spree.

(2)

There really was nothing like Ibiza nightlife, Raquel thought, walking the streets in her evening best. That and for her it was even better than most other tourists would get because of the fact that she neither looked nor sounded like a tourist. Her mother and father were 1st generation Americans both with Spanish parents straight from Madrid and Seville respectively. While she spoke the language to an extent, she would be discovered after a while if she were to hold a conversation with a local, but even then it was no big deal. She would just say that she would go back and forth between Spain and the States when it was convenient for her and that was why some of her Spanish was tinged with an American accent. Even so, she could effortlessly pass at a glance should she not draw too much attention to herself.

Except that drawing attention was exactly what she wanted to be doing. She paraded her thin, curvy figure around like a prize animal, just waiting for a big, strong stud to come by looking for a chance to breed with her. Her tight ass sashayed erotically with every step, hugged closely by her even tighter jeans. She make sure that she wasn’t too slutty as it were, choosing to keep things classy to preserve the mystery and grace. That and the hotter and more rich she looked, the more likely it was that she was going to get a higher quality man to rail her into spasmodic bliss by the end of the night. Still, she knew how good she looked. Her tight jeans showed off her slender, soft body and killer ass while a simple black crop top revealed enough tantalizing caramel skin to make even the rich guys take a gander at the goods. If she snagged one of them, all the better, she thought. even better would be to find a man willing to pay for some upgrades to her already impressive figure, she thought idly. She'd always wanted bigger boobs and even her hot, round butt could stand to be bigger. It was just a matter of finding someone willing to pay for it....One day at least.

(3)

It may not have ever been her intention to settle down in the least, Raquel had secretly convinced herself that in the event of a particularly wealthy man coming onto her, condoms would not be part of the equation. It was a dirty trick and a far-fetched idea, but she still wouldn’t completely dismiss the possibility of attracting some wealthy playboy with a yacht to turn her into a trophy wife. Hell, she thought, she’d let a man drag her back to the states in pastel maternity wear like those chicks from the David Grant Academy if he was wealthy enough. That was part of why her ensemble had no whale tail thongs sticking out or trashy jewelry. She was to be hot, but refined. Fuckable, but respectable. Someone worth getting to know and maybe even wifing up if the situation was right for it.

But tonight wasn’t about finding a husband. Tonight Raquel was a lioness on the prowl, hunting for the biggest hottest dick she could find.

“And I’ll find it too. Just you wait…” She said to no one in particular.

“There’s not a man alive that could resist this.”