Poison — It’s Just One Little Pill. Part 9.
By: Fiona Dobson
Tags: Nonbinary, Feminization, Erotica, LGBTQ, Crossdressing

You’ll remember I mentioned Sergey Lazovski, the Russian pharmaceutical engineer who first worked on the idea of genetic retraining. He really was a quite brilliant man. He kept copious notes in his precise copper plate handwriting.

A treasure trove of notebooks had fallen into my hands when I’d taken over the department I now ran, and the unusual and unique ideas within them had largely been overlooked by anyone aware of their existence. These days it’s almost as though, if it’s not on the net it never happened.

Needless to say I spent a good number of hours reading those journals. And even with my knowledge of pharmacy I knew that the contents held within those pages was indeed priceless. As was being proved by my little experiment with Blair.

He had come on beautifully. And the changed had not merely been the shape of his body. His psychological shift was extraordinary.

He had become so excited a few days ago after discovering an adult toy in my bedroom, that he had barely been able to contain himself. He couldn’t take his eyes from the object, and kept shifting uneasily.

I knew the signs, of course. Every cell in his sissy carcass was screaming out to be taken, and his brain — never the most active of organs in Blair — was simply not able to process these strange messages. It wouldn’t be until he encountered sex in the female role that he would recognise what his body was telling him.

It is ironic that on this very bed beside me just yesterday, I had seen almost the same look on his sister’s face. As she kissed my fingers, wet with the evidence of her own wanton excitement, I saw that very same look. It said, ‘Please fuck me. Please use me as you wish.’

And it said it wracked with shame and confused angst. In Blair’s case he didn’t even realise what that feeling consuming him from within was. A yearning so powerful it couldn’t be denied, and yet without direction or any means to satisfy itself.

Sarah was a different story. Her hunger for satisfaction was as confused as Blair’s as she stumbled her way at first reluctantly and then running urgently into the joys of finding herself bisexual. My predatory conquest of Sarah had been like releasing the floodgates, as she now demanded more and immersed herself in the deep waters of her lesbian lust for me.

Last night she’d dropped by on the way home.

‘I happened to be on the way,’ she said, moving uneasily on the sofa upon which a few days earlier I’d sat firmly on her face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” I said politely as I poured us both a cup of green tea.

That seemed to stop her in her track. She smiled awkwardly and then continued.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other night,” she said quite firmly.

“Oh, yes. You mean about how you practically devoured me like a starving animal?” I replied.

“I just want you to know that it can never happen again. It’s not what I do!” Her voice was protesting, liked a teenager who had been told he was grounded.

“Of course, it’s not what you do,” I said gently.

She looked at me with a softness of a little girl.

“I know you’d never normally do those things that you did. Never.”

I smiled at her and she visibly melted. I tried not to laugh, but kept a straight face. The poor lamb had no idea what was coming.

Taking my place beside her on the sofa, I turned to her and said, “You know, we all slip up sometimes. We do things which are out of character. It doesn’t mean anything, you know.”

Sarah looked relieved. Her shoulders sloped as she let out a sigh.

“Oh God, I was so worried. I didn’t think you’d understand,” she said with relief.

“Of course, I understand.” I moved a little closer to her.

I could feel her breath on my cheek as she said, “Thank god!”

Her breathing was a little faster now.

“Yes, thank God,” she said moving back and stiffening a little. “It’s not like I’m some lesbian or anything.”

“Who could think such a thing,” I mouthed as my hand rested on hers.

She turned to me sharply, opening her mouth to speak, but I pressed my lips to hers before she could utter so much as a syllable. The moan on her lips and her arms flung around me confirmed that she couldn’t help herself any more than her brother could. They were both completely mine.

As my fingers closed around her nipple and squeezed she released a soft moan of delight and pressed her body against my own. Even as she moaned ‘no, no…’ she pulled my body to hers unable to help herself, the fabric of her skirt dulling the need for touch.

In a moment she was on her feet and pulling her clothes off, as I watched surprised at the intensity of her desire. Her eyes burned as she stared back at me, stripping me naked in her mind. I stood up, moving close to her, and waited to see if she would take the initiative.

As we felt the closeness of our bodies Sarah’s hunger seemed to elevate, and she found herself unable to hold back. As I felt her fingers searching my body I knew years of desire were finally finding what they needed to slake that thirst.

And Sarah drank fully and deeply that night.

Jerry.

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