FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Okay, normal Yiffstar disclaimers apply: porn lies below, involving a transgendered lady. Don't read if you don't like that, and it's not legal where you are.

I made sure it was perfect. I'm a romantic at heart, you see, and I wanted to get everything just right. I cooked a spaghetti bolognese, which is just about the best I can manage, without burning something. But it's the trimmings that make it: served out on the balcony, lit by the moonlight and a few candles, surrounded by the ivy I'd brought up to decorate (I even checked it wasn't poison ivy!)

Leslie was surprised. She'd been very stressed lately, and it was worth any amount of effort to see that tired look break and a smile come back to her muzzle. As we ate, we flirted like it was the first time we'd met. When I stared into her eyes, I couldn't believe how lucky I was. She was a lioness, a few inches smaller than, me, with golden fur covering her lithe and slim body. Her brown hair curled to her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes twinkled like I hadn't seen since I'd earned her trust.

When we had done, I stepped through the balcony door back to the main room. I bowed, and extended my hand to her. "My lady," I asked. "Would you do me the honor of taking my hand for the next dance?"

She laughed, that magical purr of a laugh, and placed her hand in mine. "Why sir, you know how to treat a lady!"

I chuckled, and pulled her into my arms. I kicked on the cd player, and a slow tune began to play. We turned and let the smiles fall from our faces into pure sincerity, and then kissed, gently.

In the gentle circling of our bodies, I had moved us to the door of our bedroom. It was easy to pick her up and struggle the few steps to the bed, letting her fall. She laughed again, and bit her lower lip, looking down herself at me. I began to unbutton my shirt as I stood at the end of the bed, and she pulled her dress up, bunching it to get it over her head. When she was down to her bra and panties, I was naked, and leaped to the bed beside her to help her with those.

She rolled, turning away from me. I used the opportunity to undo the clasp of her bra. I ran my hands under the straps and round her body, until the fabric of the bra fell away, leaving nothing but my hands separating her tight, hard nipples and small but perfectly formed breasts from the open air. I cupped and pressed them, teasing her nipples to get a gasp from her, before gently tracing the outline of lighter fur that led over her stomach. Her panties were already stretched, and I pulled the lip down to let her cock spring out, hardening quickly once it was free from its confinement. She was smaller than me, which I was glad of - she'd never been the type to wave it about the place, but you still don't want your girlfriend to have a bigger cock than you - and I grasped her length with my left hand, feeling the heat, the fast pulse of her heart.

Her heart always beat faster than mine. Maybe that's the hormones, or maybe that's just the way we were.

I slid her panties down her legs. She laughed, and kicked them off when my hands reach her paws. I licked the back of her neck, then rolled away to the bedside cabinet to grab a handful of lube. I slathered my cock with it, and then ran my hand over her tight, round ass, the wetness messing up the perfect fur there. She swept her tail to the up and to the side, the tuft tickling my legs. I moved closer, sliding myself into her, my head by her neck. As I pushed her sphincter, she let out a gasp, as if in mild surprise. Just like every time, the same surprise. I moaned myself, and cupped her testicles with my left hand, my right starting to stroke what was left of her maleness. Gently moving in and out, I timed my hands to match. She began to purr, her whole body vibrating each time she breathed out.

Pulling her head back, I kissed her deeply. Her voice resonated in my lungs, until we were both filled with the rumbling sound of her contentment.

More quickly than I wanted, I felt her begin to tense. Her cock pulsed more strongly, and leaked onto my hand. I gripped it more tightly, and she broke the kiss and began to growl, her face screwed up. As the first spasm of orgasm came over her, the muscles of her ass convulsed around my own cock, and brought me, shuddering and gasping, to orgasm as well.

MY gasps were drowned out by her roar, as her seed pooled in my hand, and mine shot into her. She trailed off, purring, her eyes closed, as I pulled out of her. I lay by her side, tired and sweaty, but so very happy. "I love you," I whispered in her ear.

"I love you too," she smiled, not needing to open her eyes.

Two days later she went in for the operation.

***

I met her in a club. I'm not that attractive, you see - I'm a pig, and the upturned nose, floppy ears, thin wispy fur (I'd be better off with none, I think) and a tendency to gather too much fat around my stomach. So, if you can't get a girl through looks, you have to use you personality, don't you? I joke, I make a fool of myself on the introduction, so if they laugh? Then it's working.

Anyway, I spotted her in the corner, a slim lioness, looking nervous and definitely not getting involved. She was nursing a drink, and my friends laughed when I set my sights on her. She was out of my league.

She didn't notice me until I coughed. She almost jumped out of her skin, and looked on in horror as I swept my hand down in her direction, bowed slightly and said, "My lady, would you do me the honor of taking my hand for the next dance?"

From her look, I thought I was going to get the brush off. Horror and fear, looking back and forth from my hand to my face. But just when I was thinking I should cut and run, she seemed to melt, and smiled.

She laughed. Well, giggled. Always a good sign. I took her to the dance floor, and danced with her. I say danced, but I look more like I'm having a fit to music. At The end of the song, I leant in a whispered, "Don't worry. I'm much better co-ordinate off the dance floor."

She giggled again. I don't know how, but by the end of the night, to the amazement of my friends, I managed to get her number. She smiled as she walked away. A smile like she'd enjoyed a forbidden pleasure.

***

When I called her the next day (hey, with even the remotest chance, I don't hang around), she was nervous. Acted like the whole of last night was a mistake. Told me she should never have dance with me. I resigned myself to another rejection, when she said something that struck me as really odd: it wasn't me, it was her and her secrets that were the problem. Me being me, I instantly said the worst thing I could: "well, I think I can handle it if it's anything short of you having a dick!"

Oh god, the sound when she started to cry. Great sobs of pure pain. I never wanted to hurt anyone, not for any reason. So I pleaded with her, "Oh no, please don't cry! I-I didn't mean it! I only said it because I never thought you were!"

Why she didn't hang up straight away, I'll never know. But I'm so very grateful. "You-you never knew?" she whimpered.

"No!" I said. "And even if I had... I might have called back anyway. I'm dead open minded, me."

I said it to stop her crying. I never know how to treat a crying woman, and at the time, I thought it was a mistake. How do you follow that up? but it worked. she stopped crying. "R-Really?"

I'm not a bad guy, you see, just a bit of a prat. I don't like to hurt people. So when she sounded so... hopeful, I couldn't blow her off (so to speak). I just said I'd meet her for lunch, to make her feel better.

So we met at a cafe off the main square in town. Private, but I think she picked it so it was close enough so that people would have come running if she screamed. I can't blame her for being paranoid.

We talked, like you do, but it was inevitable what we'd talk about. She told me all about her past. How she'd always played with dolls as a kid, despite her father's attempt to beat it out of her. How she kept her desires, the feeling of wrongness hidden until she went to college, where she found the gay community. She could love the kind of people she loved, and began to feel more comfortable. But when she told her family - they turned on her. Her father disowned her. Her mother stayed in touch, but every word was dripping with disapproval.

In the gay scene, she started to cross dress. She made a convincing girl - as I found - and was just more comfortable like that. I don't know what it's like, I suppose, but she made up her mind that she was transsexual. And then it got worse. When she told her then boyfriend, he left her. Said he wanted a man, not someone who can't decide what they were. And all her friends acted the same way. Seems you can cross dress, but making the change can be too far. I wouldn't have thought she'd be accepted there, but apparently not.

Alone, friendless, her body changing under the effect of the hormones, she made a new start. She moved here, got a job. And then, after one night too many of sitting alone in her apartment, met me.

As she poured out her heart, I was touched. She had such strength in her tiny frame, to make these changes, to go through so much just to be who she was on the outside as well as the inside. I couldn't help but feel for her. I leant over , kissed her on the cheek, and told her how much I admired her for that.

Soon we were dating regularly.

***

The operation went without a hitch. I was waiting for her with everything - lots of painkillers, KY jelly, sanitary towels and other woman's stuff I didn't like to ask about, one of those ring cushions that you normally get for hemorrhoids, and some bikini bottoms she was looking forward to trying.

The recover period was very frustrating, for the both of us. Leslie was in - not pain, so much as discomfort. It's amazing how little she could move, considering an obstruction between her legs had been removed. But apart from her irritability, the recovery was uneventful too.

Neither of us could wait until the day finally came to take her new genitals for a spin.

***

It was more than two months between the first time we met and when she let me see her naked.

She'd always been nervous. I respected that. We'd messed around a little - well, a lot. I'd felt her breasts, and watched them grow (I loved that). And she'd put her hands down my pants - which I liked even better. One night, as we were kissing on the couch, she paused. "Would- Do you want to- do something else?"

"Like what?" I grinned.

"I-I've been wanting to -do more for you..."

"You know what? I'd like that."

She stood, and I sat up. "What, am I gonna get a strip show?"

Leslie paused, suddenly nervous. "What, really?"

"I've never seen you," I said. "I-I think I'm- we're ready for that."

She bit her bottom lip, and nodded. Slowly, she peeled off her dress, showing her slim body, golden fur glinting in the light of the TV. Her breasts hung from her chest, smaller than they are now, but so perky and firm. And finally, she turned away to lower her panties. She was naked, with her legs together, the soft round muscles of her buttocks making me hard.

And she turned. Hanging between her legs was her cock, a soft black length of flesh, and beneath that the fur of her scrotum, bushed outwards in twin bulges. I drank it all in. "You're beautiful," I said.

That night we made slow love on the couch.

***

Leslie didn't let me see her naked again until she'd finished healing. Said she wanted it to be special.

She called me into the bedroom one night. She was lying on her back, covered by the bed sheets. She caught the sheet at the bottom with one of her footpaws, and began to pull it down, smiling seductively. The white silken sheet slid over her body, rubbing softly on her nipples, and then baring them. She stopped with it covering her lower half. I stripped, and reached round to cup her buttocks, taking the sheet behind her. I kissed her mound, through the sheet, then pulled it down, over the roundness of her hips, showing me what I'd been looking for.

Her new vagina was perfect and womanly. The fur was trimmed, revealing the black skin of her lips that were full and plump. She had a clit, set in a recess at the top of her slit. Il looked up the length of her body, between her breasts to her smile. "A work of art," I said. "My complements to the surgeon."

She laughed, and then gasped as I ran my tongue along the slit. The taste was unfamiliar - I'd never gone down on her, or a man. I teased her clit, and got another.

I cast aside the sheet, and crawled up her, my body over hers. She bit her lip, and made no sound as I penetrated her. We looked into each other's eyes as I slowly pulled back, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, to aid her response. The feeling was so different to everything we'd had before. She seemed... softer somehow.

It wasn't what I'd expected.

***

It's been weeks. Weeks, of lackluster sex. I don't know why. She's not a different person. I hate that I feel different when I look at her. That we don't have that secret hidden under her dress to share just between the two of us. The frequency we have sex has dropped. I don't seem to be able to initiate it any more. And it's not as good. She still seems to come, but it takes me longer.

And then there's the other thing. I-

I've been looking at porn. Transgender porn. It- the thought of having one of those ladies share themselves with me, like Leslie had, turns me on more than my girlfriend does.

What's wrong with me?

I don't want to be like this. I don't want to hurt Leslie! God, no. But isn't keeping her with someone who doesn't love her hurting her? How can I excuse that I trick her, into thinking that I love her? And that I'm afraid - for me, too?

What lies in my future, then? If normal women don't turn me on any more, am I stuck with a choice between my fantasies, imagining my girlfriend back when she had a cock, or preying on vulnerable girls as they transition, trying to gain their trust, and trying to convince myself it's not just for my own sexual satisfaction?

I'm not a bad pig. I don't want to hurt anybody, but it seems someone will be. I suppose it's only right that it's me.