Dark alley behind the lab. City hums. Neon flickers. Heart pounds. I’m done with masks. Time to mutate.
Lab days blur. Arrogant Laurent struts in, misogynist smirk. Ignores my hello. Jabs at my team. Hate boils. Idealist fire ignites. I crave his fall. Masturbate in bathroom stall, fingers frantic, visions of strapping him down, pegging his smug ass raw. Surrender film haunts me. Gode-ceinture ordered.
The Mutation
Home. Christian on couch, gaming. Snap at him. “That Laurent prick? Fire him.” He cooks. Tense dinner. Bedroom wait. Strip him. Knees on bed, ass up. Grip cock, stroke hard. Two fingers invade anus. He yelps. Nails too long. Prostate hook. Three fingers stretch. He bucks, cries. Rhythm shifts. Begs more. Edge him. Mechanical jerk. Cum spills. Bath time. Used him as Laurent proxy. Relief surges.
Plan hatches. Seduce as bimbo? Fails. Mini-skirt, wonderbra illusions, nips poking. He shrugs off lunch invite. Obsession grips. Christian’s idea: Become a man. “I’ll rehire you as Maxence.” Excite. Suck him deep, fantasizing my own cock throated.
Three months prep. Quit over holidays. Men’s suits, smokings, ties. Short hair, glasses. Voice coach graves timbre. Fuck her success. Seduce girls, hone facade. 1m75 frame, flat chest binds easy. March 15: Return as Maxence Leconte. Lab lockdown. Caroline pounces at lunch. “Monsieur sexy.” Door locked. She drops, sucks. I command.
Infiltrate Laurent’s circle. Tennis match. Beat his ass. Clubhouse girls eye us. He balks. Poker night home. Wife Sophie dazzles. Leaves for girls’ night. TV: effeminate Torres. Confessions slip. “Troubling, those girly men.” Point weak: repressed gay.
Sophie texts. Lunch. Tailleur, stockings. Direct: “Laurent’s homo closet case. Caught him jerking to twinks.” Her hand wanders. Stop her. Tease thighs. Promise later.
Strap-on arrives. Solo test. Belt on. Stroke silicone shaft. Imagine Laurent gagging.
Sophie invites weekend alone. Decline full. Kiss romantic. Eyes shine. But hunt husband.
The Exploit
Night out with Laurent. Hidden lounge. Dim lights. Whiskey burns. Tension crackles.
Lounge shadows deepen. Adrenaline spikes. Mutation peaks.
Exploit launches. After-hours bar haze. Laurent loosens. “Those effeminate guys… stir something.” Push. Home invite. His place empty. Door shuts. Stares linger. Androgyny hooks. Lips brush. Hands roam. Strip him slow. Muscled metrosexual yields. “On knees.” Cock hardens. I belt up. Real cock illusion perfect. Lube slick. Bend him over desk. Ass cheeks part. Head presses virgin ring. Thrust. He gasps. Inch by inch, conquer. Pound rhythmic. Prostate milks. Cries mix pain, bliss. Grip hips. Power surges. City pulses outside. He breaks. “More, Max.” Flip. Face-fuck silicone. Gags. Eyes water. Edge. Pull. Straddle. Ride reverse. Balls slap. Climax crashes. He erupts untouched. Collapse. Dominated.
Whisper: “Your truth owned. Mine now.”
Dawn breaks. Slip out. Shadow life resumes.
Lab queen Isabelle. Androgyne edge sharp. Christian dotes. Caroline craves. Sophie texts longing. Laurent averts eyes, submits in glances.
Secret fuels. Power thrums. Untouchable. City bows. Heroine reigns.