FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The summer sun burned high overhead - the Eye of Sauron trapped between the edges of the world.

Craig groaned, wiped sweat from his brow and flung it away before shading his eyes to stare at the baleful orb. Sweat lined his back from where the backpack touched his body. He walked slowly, knowing his dad would be waking soon for his shift at the mill.

"Fucking Lenny," Craig groused, kicking a rock in his path. He wiped his fingers through the short hair on the side of his head with a sigh.

He'd known Lenny his entire life. Had grown up with him and bonded with him due to their shitty parents. Left to their own devices most of their life with other kids teasing them for how poor they dressed or how they couldn't afford lunch most days, they'd fought back. And kept fighting back. Until they found themselves settling into a life of bullying.

Until Craig found a job a few months ago. Being around other adults and teenagers his age, right on the cusp of adulthood, let him see what lay beyond the madness of school. Nobody cared. They didn't care about any of the school drama - just how to keep their boss from yelling at them for going too slow. Now he dreamed of putting away a little money every day until he had enough saved to get his own little apartment to get away from his father. Maybe even getting an apprenticeship somewhere for more money.

And away from Lenny, maybe.

"Stupid Lenny," Craig said with a sigh. He'd punched Jonathon Brenner for laughing like a braying donkey and Craig had made the mistake of being around him when it happened. The vice principal had sent both of them home for the day despite Craig not being involved. He'd even mumbled out a quiet 'sorry' to Jonathon as he left.

A yard sign drew his attention.

"Estate sale, huh?" Craig said, scratching his jaw and the few dark hairs he'd been able to grow. He'd expected to grow a beard when he'd turned eighteen but so far his body was letting him down.

He glanced down the side street to see people wandering around a yard strewn with objects and more walking in and out of the house. The three story home loomed over the surrounding homes. It was painted dark blue, nearly black, with cracked white paint outlining the windows. He looked down the street to his house far in the distance but then touched his back pocket to feel his wallet.

Craig turned down the street, gripping the straps of his backpack with his arms bent. Plodding along. Sweat poured down his chest and over his bulging stomach, a constant reminder for him to lose weight.

Items lay on tables spread throughout the lawn. He looked at them while walking around but they were mostly plates and utensils and other household goods he wasn't interested in. Once he'd completed a circuit around the yard, he made his way inside.

"Ah, that's good stuff," he said when the air conditioning rolled over him.

The house was packed with things for sale, including the furniture itself. He walked to an ancient grandfather clock, hypnotized by the soft whisk-tick-whisk-tick-whisk-tick-whisk sound it made. It was strangely soothing and the polished, dark wood only added to the effect. As if he were transported into the past, when the world was slower. Calmer.

He roused himself and continued, walking through the house as if walking through history, rifling through 8 track tapes and records as well as boxes of old photos.

Stairs creaked when he made his way into the basement. It was empty and, for a moment he worried he wasn't supposed to be down there. Nothing had tags but things were still laid out. He walked around until he stood before a tall box.

Craig opened the box and then stepped back while letting it close quickly with a snap. Licking his lips, he looked around the cool room and then opened the box again.

A blow-up doll stared back at him. He laughed, suddenly and sharply. Everything else seemed so dignified but here this was, hidden away. It sagged in its container and he could see others behind it but the first one held his attention.

Once more he licked his lips. And pondered. He wasn't handsome and his reputation at school didn't do him any favors, leaving him still a virgin. He'd seen pocket vaginas and other fancy things but never dared spend the money on them. Everything was priced low here. Surely he could afford this and wouldn't have to worry about ordering something online for his dad to find accidentally.

"Someone else used this, though, man. Gross," he said but his voice was an uncertain whisper. She was pretty, even with the sagging rubber face. He reached a finger out, curling it into a hook in order to touch her face. It almost felt like real skin and that only made it more exciting. A string of fake pearls shifted around "her" neck.

He could hide it under his bed, he knew. His dad never checked his room. He barely even talked to him. And with him working through the night, there was plenty of time where he could be alone.

"It's a dumb idea," he said but he touched the thing's cheek again. Caressing it. A strange, faint ache filled him, beneath his chest. He swallowed and touched his sternum, tapping it gently.

Before he could change his mind, he closed the box and lifted it, carrying it beneath his right arm as he walked up the stairs to head outside to the man sitting behind a table. He was dressed in a suit with a fake smile plastered on his face and a large cashbox beside him.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" the man asked.

Craig looked around, suddenly ashamed of what he was doing but he'd gone too far to turn back so he lay the box down on the table.

"I don't see any tag on it," the man said, frowning as he checked the sides. "Where'd you find it?"

"The basement," Craig told him as his cheeks brightened in the oppressive heat.

"Ohhh, that's why," the man said. "Yeah, I haven't gone through that yet. I didn't think anyone would go down there. Well, that's fine. Let me, oh."

He stared into the opened box while Craig fidgeted. The man reached in with his pen to shift things around slightly.

"Well," the man laughed. "I guess there's some things I really don't want to know about my grandfather. Ten bucks and it's yours. I don't know what it's worth and I don't wanna know what it's worth or what it is exactly."

Craig fumbled for his wallet before pulling out a twenty dollar bill. He closed the box's lid while the man grabbed change and held it out.

"Thanks," the young man said. "I'm here all day and probably tomorrow if you want to come back."

"Yeah, sure," Craig lied, taking the money to store it while lifting the box. The tips of his ears felt like someone had pinched them hard enough to hurt. He wanted out as quickly as possible so he could sit in his quiet room without all these people staring at him and judging him.

The walk home was arduous and the cumbersome box only made it worse. His fingers hurt from gripping the lid hard and his knuckles were pure white. He kept seeing, in his imagination, the box flying open and the doll flopping out for everyone to see.

"Oh, thank Christ," Craig gasped when he saw the empty spot where his dad always parked. He grabbed his keys from his pocket with the box balanced on his foot against the outside wall while he unlocked the door and rushed inside.

It was cool and quiet and dark and only then did he start to relax. Yet his heart beat faster as he remembered what he held. He kicked off his shoes before walking past the living room and into the bedroom where he lay the box down on the floor by his bed. Despite being home alone, he closed and locked his bedroom door, or tried to lock it before remembering, not for the first time, that his dad had broken the lock years ago in a fit of rage.

He rummaged through his closet to find the old pump that came with the Dollar Store soccer ball his dad bought him for his ninth birthday, laying it beside the box once he pulled it out.

Now Craig opened the box. He reached beneath the doll to pull it out and lay it on his bed, stretching it out as if she were sleeping on the bed.

"Why would a blow-up doll have clothes?" he asked himself while staring at her. "Or shoes?"

Her deflated feet were covered by rubbery red heels while her body and legs were hidden by a navy blue dress with white polka dots that reached down past her knees. He sat beside the doll and touched the pearls, lifting them to see how each were attached to her neck. Unlike the rest of the outfit, the necklace felt solid to the touch.

With a look towards his closed door, he lifted the hem of her dress and grunted when it barely pulled away from her body. He pulled at it and turned her over on the bed to tug at the clothing but it was sealed to her.

"Aw, fuck," Craig sighed.

It wasn't a blow-up doll at all. And now, with it turned on its "stomach" he saw the back was completely open, all the way to the head with a shiny zipper edging the opening. The legs and arms were hollow. Craig reached in, pressing his fingers into the head.

All empty. As if to be worn. But the eyes were solid, not clear; there was no way to see out.

"Well, that's a fucking waste of money," he groaned with disgust, balling it up and shoving it into the box. He kicked the box under his bed with a mental note to throw it away in the dumpster outside Quick-E-Chicken at the end of the block

Craig grabbed his backpack, digging through it until he found his math book. He'd dreamed of becoming an electrician and he'd decided he'd need to be better at math for that to work. He easily lost himself in his homework until he finished math and moved onto English. An essay was due at the end of the week and he'd only just barely come up with an introduction.

The evening wore on while Craig studied and worked until he got ready for bed.

Only when he was lying down with his eyes closed did he remember the doll. Or whatever it was. She was pretty, whatever she was supposed to be.

"Something for an old movie?" he muttered, staring at the wall beside his bed through half closed eyes.

He tried to imagine why an actress would wear something like that but nothing came to mind. They would just hire someone they needed, wouldn't they? He thought he could see her with his eyes closed, swirling in her blue dress with her hands out at her sides. Smiling at him. And once more, his chest ached as he fell asleep.

Craig jerked awake from a strange dream that faded as quickly as his eyes opened. He looked down to see himself hard but he pushed at it while rubbing his temples. There'd been... something. Someone. A feeling of warmth that melted away. He shook his head and got ready for school while listening to his dad snoring.

The day passed with Craig avoiding Lenny at every possibility until his friend tracked him down. He shook his head when asked what was wrong and whether he was avoiding him and then did his best to keep his friend out of trouble until the day was over. He rushed home then, to dress for work at Quick-E-Chicken.

Craig's foot bumped the box beneath his bed while he buttoned his work shirt. He blinked and looked down at it to see the rubbery arm hanging out of the opening with the hand against the floor. He'd forgotten about it completely. For a moment he considered grabbing it to throw it away but he was already late so left it alone.

Work was busy, as always, cooking food for customers and occasionally chatting with his coworkers. They were older than him and it was almost like they lived in an entirely different dimension. Their paths had taken them somewhere else and they were able to banter easily back and forth while he quietly stood by, soaking it in and trying to find the right time to speak up. To belong.

When he was done with his half shift, he clocked out and headed home with a bag of food. One of the "perks" of working at the fast food restaurant. One free meal a shift. He ate while working on his homework, brushing crumbs away from his papers before the grease soaked in.

Bedtime came quickly and he shuffled out of the bathroom with a yawn.

The arm still lay out of the box. He frowned at it before pulling the box from beneath the bed to open it and lift the strange thing free.

He felt more frustrated than usual. Jennifer, one of his coworkers, was a little older than him and he had a massive crush on her, despite the fact that she had a boyfriend. They didn't often share the same shift but, when they did, he caught himself staring more than he should. Which, thankfully, she didn't notice.

Craig held the rubber woman out in front of him by the arms, as if she sat on his lap with her legs against his shins and her open back against his chest.

An idea took root within him but he blushed at the thought of it. Still, the house was empty and he hated the idea of wasting his money.

The boy lay the rubber suit aside in order to strip out of his clothes, dropping them in a pile on the floor beside the box. He was hard now and it left him feeling slightly ashamed, despite nobody else being present.

He sat and took the suit in hand once more, lowering it in order to slip his right foot inside. It was warm, more so than the surrounding air and a small part of his brain registered the strangeness of that. He gathered the "skin" of the suit's leg in one hand while pushing his foot down as far as it could go. Since it was rubbery, he'd expected it to grab at his skin and hair but it slid smoothly, allowing him to get his toes down into the suit's foot. The heel filled out and stretched as he pulled until it was strained around him. He ignored it and pressed his left foot inside, sliding it down in the same way.

Craig gasped. The suit held him tightly, compressing with the perfect amount of pressure and it was still warm but not uncomfortably so. He looked down at it, at the way the dress lay over his bare thighs. The incongruity of his throbbing cock with the hairless "flesh" of the suit as well as the dress and strange heels was disconcerting.

Still, he could feel it serving its purpose. He'd had the idea to masturbate while wearing the legs to give the illusion of a woman being there with him and now he felt himself growing even more aroused.

His skin stirred. Tiny hairs lifted and he shivered as goosebumps lifted over his body. A warm finger traced over his spine, forcing him to sit straight.

"Oh!" he gasped again when the ghostly finger ran along his nape.

He touched himself and his chest lifted when his breathing quickened. He slid his legs out to stare at them while stroking but his eyes strayed to the suit. To the flopping arms.

Craig blinked once, twice and then lifted one of the arms. The hands were delicate little things with long, fake nails painted crimson to match the lipstick she "wore." He held the chest of the suit to slide his right arm in, stretching the rubber and then flexing his fingers until he found the proper holes for each of them.

"Oh, wow," he said, staring at the way his arm looked. He turned it around and around, staring at the smooth, pale skin. The illusion was incredible. Now he quickly inserted his left arm, eagerly pushing it as far as it would go before seating all the fingers in place.

The head of the suit flopped beneath his chin but he was lost staring at the bosom. He hadn't realized before but, unlike the rest of the suit, these are solid. But not like the pearls. He reached up, watching his arms until he touched the front of the dress. The suit's breasts were semi-solid and spongy, not what he'd expect real breasts to feel like but it was something and in his heightened state, he could stop touching them. Squeezing them. Massaging them until he found the little bumps near the center of each - the nipples.

His breath was hot and fast with his cock aching against his body beneath the front of the suit.

Craig took the head in his hands lifting it until it touched his face. He pressed and then reached behind to tug it in place. While it might not be a real blow-up doll, he could see himself stroking his cock through the suit while playing the the breasts and imagining-

The boy blinked and stared down at himself.

"But, the eyes weren't clear," he said.

The lips sealed themselves to him, full and curved. He coughed when the mouth pushed into his own mouth until he swallowed and his tongue lifted and flexed. Pressure surrounded him as the suit connected to his body and pushed inward.

"Oh, god!" Craig gasped, raising his head with his mouth open and his pure, blue eyes wide. The pearls clinked softly against his delicate neck while his Adam's apple crunched quietly and faded away. His voice cracked and raised in pitch. "What's- what's happening to-"

His chin lifted while his cheekbones pushed forward and his fleshy cheeks tightened. The effect spread down from his head in a wave of invisible hooks. He shook and his breasts jiggled beneath his soft dress.

"No, no, no!" he shouted, grabbing at the bulge of his crotch beneath his shrinking stomach.

He could feel the flesh moving against his belly, soft skin sliding against smooth skin. Shrinking. Twisting. He stood, pawing at the front of his dress. He grabbed the bottom and lifted to see the white panties beneath. They bulged slightly over his cock but were already pulling flat. He shrieked, his voice high and pure, and pulled at the front of the panties to see his hairless mound and the recessed line of his pussy.

Before he could try to touch himself to see if it was really gone, the suit clenched around his hips and he moaned while shoving his ass out. With his dress lifted, he could just barely see the curve of his rounded, taut cheeks.

Craig took a step towards the small mirror on his desk. He stumbled but caught himself on the edge of his bed. He could feel his toes flexing while his arches shortened and he stared down to see the gray heels covering his feet growing solid. He took another step, wobbling on the heels with their stems pressing into the carpet. His knees wavered, turning out and then in as he tried another step.

His chest pulled him forward. Craig stood straight and his back relaxed slightly when his breasts lay flat against his body. Another step on awkward legs brought him close enough to grab the mirror with his slim fingers.

It was her.

He stared at the face in the mirror and only saw the woman - her dark lashes, full red lips and the sparkling earrings attached to her lobes. Her blonde, faux bob hair was perfectly curled around her neck and he could feel the hair brushing his bare skin. He angled the mirror down to see the generous cleavage and then below to her slim stomach.

His heart raced and he saw the woman's chest rising and falling in return.

The mirror dropped from Craig's nerveless fingers. He reached behind him, feeling for the zipper but all he touched was the dress and, higher, bare skin beneath his neck. His fingers scrabbled upwards until he felt a small bump beneath his hair. He pressed and the bump hardened. The more he pressed, the more he could feel the shape of a zipper's slider. When he snatched his hand away in shock, it vanished to leave smooth skin and perfect hair behind.

"What the shit?" he shouted with the woman's beautiful voice. He pressed his hand against his mouth to feel her smooth palms against his curved, full lips. With a cautious, curious movement, he slid his hand back and forth, amazed at how sensitive it felt.

"No, no fucking way, no," he said, reaching once more for the spot on his head. The slider appeared with force and he pulled, feeling the suit separating as he unzipped until he folded in half against his body, just beneath his limp, twitching penis.

Craig sat and pulled his legs free and then up against his chest and his bulging belly.

"Fuck. What the fuck," he gasped, still breathing hard. "What the fuck is that?"

His mind was blank as he stared at the inside of the rubbery suit where it was bunched on the floor. He refused to think of anything while he tried to calm himself until, nearly thirty minutes later, he grabbed the suit and stuffed it into the box, closing the lid and shoving it completely beneath the bed. Once finished, he slipped under covers and stared at the wall.

It had all felt incredibly real. The weight of her tits had pulled at his back and his thighs had pressed together with nothing between them. He jerked and reached down, suddenly fearing that it was gone but his fist closed over his cock and he sighed in relief. It stirred, unfolding as he remembered how she had looked. As he remembered the way her pussy had looked in the brief glimpse he'd had.

Craig closed his eyes and masturbated slowly, picturing all of it again. He moaned and froze the image of her bare legs in his mind, using that to imagine sliding into her. Remembering the way his voice sounded but turning it into moans of pleasure until he came, jerking and gasping and digging his heels into the bed.

Once finished, he lay there, exhausted. Mind reeling. But, slowly, slowly he fell into deep sleep.

The next day at school, Craig found his mind wandering. He caught himself staring at other girls at random times. Comparing himself to them. Her. Comparing her to them. She'd looked older, perhaps twenty-eight. Mature in an important, unknowable way. Her figure showed it. Her breasts were larger than almost every other girl at his school.

Was it real? he asked himself towards the end of the day. He realized he'd been in such a panic that the details escaped him. It unzipped. I was able to take it off. Maybe- Maybe I should try it again. I could take pictures with my phone and then use those.

He started to become excited at the idea and began to watch the clock, bouncing his foot anxiously until the day ended and he rushed him, slowing only when he saw his dad's car still home. Craig walked away, wandering the neighborhood before checking at home again to see the spot empty. He rushed inside, stepping out of his shoes and closing his bedroom door while dropping his backpack. His smartphone was older with a cracked screen and a cloudy camera but it worked.

Once more, he stripped, folding his clothes properly to lay them on the bed before taking the suit out. He stepped into it, pressing his toes in properly before holding one arm in place and then the other. The entire suit strained over his body with the belly bulging outward until he pressed the face in place and it sealed around him.

The now-familiar tightening sensation returned and he shrunk, losing inches as the dress and necklace separated from the suit.

Craig pressed his reddened lips together while breathing through his nose. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to hold himself together until it was too much and he moaned, falling to the bed while hugging his slim body.

When he hunched forward, muscles twinged uncomfortably, forcing him to sit straight. He slowed his breathing with his hands on his lap and then searched the dress until he found a zipper hidden behind a flap on the back. He unzipped himself and then pulled the dress aside to stare down at his body.

She wore no bra so his breasts were bare and perfect and firm and, when he reached up to touch them, warm and soft to the touch. His light brown nipples lay flat in the center of the wide areola while he slowly caressed himself.

"Amazing," he gasped with her voice.

He leaned back to stare at her smooth, firm stomach and the white panties. His heart raced and a strange sensation was pulsing deep within his belly. He waited, staring at his thighs before touching them. Stroking them. Running his fingertips over the incredibly smooth skin. Finally, with his heart in his throat, he slipped out of the panties.

Craig grabbed his phone, reaching out to angle it between his thighs. He spread his legs and watched as the skin opened to show slim, pink lips hidden behind larger rounded lips.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered while taking pictures. He turned the camera to see his face, shying away from a moment before firming and staring down. "You're beautiful."

The boy tried different expressions while staring at the camera. She was naturally attractive even if he simply let his face relax but her smile was breathtaking. The camera clicked away as he turned his face one way and then another, dipping his head and then blowing a kiss. Another picture had him licking his lips and then next he lifted his breast. And then yet another while pushing his head down in an effort to lick his own nipple.

Craig slid back to lay on his bed with his legs spread. He stared at his vagina and then slid a finger down to open himself. The lips parted and he groaned before turning back to stare at the pink hole within. He squeezed and the hole constricted until he felt muscles slipping together within. Warmth suffused his body. Licking his lips, he slid a shaking finger down to press inside. He clenched against the finger automatically and gasped, dropping the camera.

The boy forced himself to relax while pressing the tip of his finger inside until he realized he was dry. He brought his finger to his mouth to wet it but stopped and smelled it, intrigued by the scent of her. It was sweet with a sharp undertone and he licked it carefully. And then he moaned, sliding his finger into his mouth. That felt good and he found himself rubbing his finger back and forth against his tongue while clenching his other hand against his thigh.

Finally, he brought the finger down but was amazed to find wetness already waiting for him. He pushed and moaned again when his finger sunk inside. It was such an alien, unique feeling and he loved it. Despite only being able to push halfway past the first knuckle, he worked the finger back and forth, moaning quietly. His hips moved slowly in their own rhythm, back and forth to match his finger.

"Ow!" he snapped, snatching his finger out. His nail had scratched inside and that wasn't pleasant.

Still, it was enough. He had enough pictures for months of masturbation. He reached up, feeling for the zipper beneath his hair and he pulled, groaning as it released him. Once done, he folded it carefully with the clothes and lay it inside the box.

The woman in the pictures was sexier than he could imagine. He grew hard quickly while flicking between the pictures, staring at her face. At his face. And then between her thighs when he reached those pictures. Grunting and pulling and stroking. It was so very different from how his finger had felt inside.

When he came, he cleaned up and lay still on top of his blanket.

Without a word, he pulled the suit free and once more slipped into it. He could barely feel the way it compressed around him now and he stared down, once more, at his breasts and thighs. Leaning back, his tits pulled to the side and now he played with them, toying with his nipples and moaning when they hardened. His free hand slid down to his pussy and he rubbed himself carefully. His erect nipples shot electricity to the roof of his mouth and down to his sex, increasing his pleasure as he touched himself and, once more, he pressed a finger inside, shoving down to keep his nail from touching anything.

He was already wet and it felt amazing. Craig lost himself in it, pinching and pulling and rubbing his nipple while fingering himself. There was a small, building pressure as the pleasure increased. He whined and rubbed a second finger against his pussy but didn't dare try to push it inside.

After a long time, he pulled his hands away and lay still. He wasn't sure if he'd had an orgasm or not but it didn't matter; he felt so relaxed and good and warm. The boy brought his finger to his mouth, licking it slowly before slipping it between his lips to lick until it was completely clean.

The next day, on Friday, he found himself blushing periodically throughout the day. He felt strange and different, as if he held a secret beyond just the strange suit. A secret knowledge. Once more he stared at the girls in his class and he knew what they felt like.

No, he realized. He knew what their sex felt like. Part of it. A small fraction of it. And even that was addicting.

Later that night, Craig slipped into the suit again. He stood on his carpet. Barefoot. His heart hammered in his chest but he ignored it as he dressed himself, slipping the panties over his legs until they were snug on his crotch. Next, he slid the dress on, zipping it up and pulling it tight against the wide curves of his waist.

"Oh god," he said, with her voice.

The heels were last. He slipped his small feet into the toes and fumbled with the buckles until they were tight. The boy stood and stumbled and fell. And then tried again. And again.

Now standing, Craig settled his dress and stepped. His leg wobbled but he straightened it and took another step. For the next hour, he walked through the house on carpet and tile until he found himself stepping gracefully.

Stairs were the next challenge. He held the rail tight while stepping up and then down once he reached the top.

He spent the evening inside, walking and bending and crouching until he was mostly comfortable with the motions. At one point, he stopped to make food for himself but found himself unable to finish all of it.

Craig woke Saturday morning, stretching and twisting in bed.

His breasts slid against him and he shrieked, barely covering his mouth in time to muffle the sound.

He'd gone to bed wearing the suit without even realizing what he'd done.

In an adrenaline fueled panic, he unzipped himself and placed the suit back in the box with the clothes. He'd had the presence of mind to undress but still wore the suit to bed and that bothered him somewhat.

He showered and dressed and ate before leaving for work - a full shift today that left him exhausted when he came back to an empty house. His dad would be out with his buddies drinking, he knew. As always, he wouldn't be back until the morning, completely and utterly wasted.

Craig pulled the box out to stare at it. He opened it but sat back on the bed once more. Now that he stared at it from an angle, he saw something small tucked into the side. He reached in and pulled out a small blue purse. The boy unzipped the purse to find a thin wallet with only a driver's license inside. His eyes bulged when he saw the issued date listed with the current date.

"Tamara Wilson?" he said out loud, staring at the name. There was even a signature. And a birthday in March. She was twenty-six years old.

A cold finger touched his spine. Craig hid the ID and grabbed a piece of paper to write the name from the card. He turned the ID back over and cursed as he compared the signatures. They were nearly a perfect match.

"Shit," he said finally.

Craig lay back against his bed with his hands on his belly. He'd practiced walking around the house yesterday for a specific purpose but now that it was time to do what he'd planned, he was terrified and finding the driver's license only made it worse. It felt- he struggled with the right word until settling on way - disconcertingly inevitable. As if the decision had been taken away from him. As if he were being forced down a path he hadn't chosen.

"Except, that's not right," he said out loud. "I chose to buy the box. I chose to try wearing it. And to try wearing it outside. Even before I found the purse. Whatever this is, it's just trying to help me. That's all. This is still my choice."

And yet, he lay there for twenty minutes before pushing himself out of bed to slip into the suit. It was seamless to him now, sealing against every part of his body as he inserted them until finally fusing to his face. He dressed quickly, stepped into his heels, grabbed the purse in his fist and walked towards the door.

The cool evening air greeted him and he froze, suddenly anxious.

What if I'm imagining all of this? What if someone can tell what I'm doing? What if I'm really wearing a weird suit and it looks good to me but fake to everyone else?

He took a step. And another until he was walking down the path to the sidewalk and turning left. His real wallet was in the purse with the other one. He held the purse in his hand until slinging it over his shoulder to hold it against his side.

"Nice legs, sexy!" a random man yelled from a passing car. It took seconds before Craig realized he was who the man was speaking to. He flushed red to the tips of his ears but kept walking.

Further down the sidewalk, foot traffic increased and he caught men staring at him. And a few women. His skin crawled at the attention but he tried to ignore it as he stood trembling at the intersection. Once the light changed, he lurched forward but told himself to calm down and walk like he'd practiced.

Four blocks away he reached the bar. He stopped, fumbling for his purse but the doorman waved him on. "No charge for women tonight, honey, go on in. I like your hair, by the way."

"Th- thanks," Craig said, his blush returning. As he passed, the doorman's eyes slid down to his chest and Craig burned.

I need to buy a bra, he told himself but froze inside when he realized what he'd thought. He shook his head and continued inside, once again drawing attention.

"Don't see them look like that these days," a gruff voice said several tables away. "Nice."

Craig could feel the eyes against him, as if they were a physical touch that wandered his body from the curve of his neck to his bulging breasts and down to his wide hips and generous ass. He felt naked in his blue dress. His legs were exposed beneath them and his calves showed, propped up by his heels. The panties pressed between his ass, leaving the cheeks as bare as his legs. Anyone could see if he lifted the dress. Anyone.

His heart beat quickly as he held himself straight. He could feel it pounding beneath his breasts but also in his throat and his cheeks - thrumming, roaring, burning. His perfectly curled hair brushed against his forehead and neck, startling him suddenly. He almost missed a step but steadied himself and continued winding through the tables.

As he walked, he cast subtle glances at everyone else. Especially the women and his cheeks brightened further. His dress seemed out of place, decades old and more - from another era entirely.

How did I never notice all the different clothes they wear? he asked himself. They wore shorts and blue jeans and slacks and skirts and dresses and things he didn't know the names for. The accessories were even more varied.

Craig reached the bar. He placed one hand on the stool while watching a woman close to his age - to her age - in the far corner. She wore bracelets with multiple studs in her ears and a sleeveless top that dipped far down between her breasts.

He stared. And he wondered how he would look in the outfit. With the bracelets. Whether he could get his ears pierced and how it would feel. There were other outfits he tried to memorize for the future as well.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asked, breaking his reverie.

"I'm- I'm twenty- twenty-six," Craig said, turning and digging through the purse to find the second wallet.

"Aww, now I have to look at your ID because that sounds like you're faking it," the man said while shaking his head.

Craig's hand shook as he pulled the woman's ID out. The bartender took it, lifting it while shining a blacklight against the front of it. He grunted and handed it back.

"Sorry, just have to make sure," he told Craig. "What can I get for you, darlin'?"

"Something, um, something sweet," he said, erring on the side of caution. Women drank sweet things, he thought, and he worried ordering something harder would dispel the illusion.

After a while, a squat glass was set before him, filled with blue liquid. He sipped at it and nodded his thanks, holding it in his hand to drink while looking around the bar. Men glanced away when he stared at them and he looked away in return, embarrassed for both of them. He worked on his drink slowly, relaxing with the alcohol until someone stepped up next to him.

"Hey, I noticed you sitting alone," the voice said. Craig continued to look around the room, oblivious to the man standing beside him until he cleared his throat. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"

Craig choked on his drink before setting it down and staring briefly at the man beside him.

"Just that I saw you alone and wondered if you'd like some company and a refill?" the man said with a warm smile.

"N-n-no th- thank you," Craig stuttered, eyes wide. He barely looked into the man's eyes before staring at the floor and running his finger over his ear to settle his hair into place. His heart thrummed against his chest.

"Alright, but, if you change your mind, I'm sitting over there," the man told him. Craig glanced where he pointed before nodding silently.

After waiting for a few minutes, Craig finished his drink quickly. He set down seven dollars, gathered his purse and left, stumbling once before straightening and walking through the door. More people stared at him on the way home but, when he was safe in his room, he stripped out of the suit again to lay naked beneath his covers.

It had been so incredibly thrilling and terrifying at the same time but he'd done it. He'd done it and enjoyed it. The attention. The feeling of being out there. Of being watched. Of being different.

"Ma'am," he whispered while rubbing his stomach.

He would buy himself a bra. He knew he would. Now that he'd tried it, he couldn't stop.

"Tomorrow," he told himself, picturing it in his mind. Walking out of the house to the bus stop to get a ride to the shopping plaza near downtown. Wearing the suit. Walking into a store to look around. As her.

He held his hands out in front of his face, high above.

"Tamara Wilson," he said, turning his hands over, staring at the difference in the hair on the back of his hands and along his forearms in comparison to her smooth, hairless skin. "Tamara Wilson."

Craig slid out of bed to kneel in front of the box. He lifted the suit and set it on the floor to finally look at what was beneath.

A large black cat's mask stared back at him. He pulled it out to set aside and stare at the large, exaggerated paws before continuing. The next was a dog's muzzle looking out at him. There were faint traces of a human's face in the details but the extended muzzle was clearly dog-like with a doberman's markings. Beneath that was a bunny girl's long ears and cute little face.

He held the last in his hands, folded in his lap.

None of them were what he'd expected but, after what he'd already experienced, he wasn't sure what to expect any more.

Craig pulled the bunny suit on, sighing as he found the hidden holes in the huge paws where his fingers were held in place. He held the head in the paws, taking several deep breaths before pushing the mask up against his face. He waited but nothing happened and he let the head drop.

It was obvious when he thought about it. What he needed to do. He let the suit drop before gracefully stepping into Tamara's suit, moaning as it sealed around him.

And now he held the bunny outfit in his hands. And he smiled with his full, red lips as he took the first step.