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Copyright© 2025 by VerbalAbuse
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A gender-bender story.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma CrossDressing Shemale TransGender
The club sat high above the city. Its lobby spread unevenly across several connected spaces, levels shifting without warning, stairs and ramps linking one area to another. The floors were streaked with veined white and red marble. Broad panes of glass framed the streets far below. Brass fittings caught the light, and a narrow bar ran along one side. Bottles of pink sparkling wine arranged neatly on shelves. Crystal chandeliers hung from the very high ceilings.
Men wore expensive suits. Women wore designer dresses of gold and glimmer, diamonds and pearls, furs and feathers.
X turned, glass in hand, and nearly collided with someone standing directly in his path. A man. A woman. A man. All in one person. The face -- bright, regular, pleasant -- was too delicate for a man. The absence of facial hair also suggested a woman. The ears -- their shape, their size -- were a subtler clue, but still to that same conclusion.
Then, in a flicker, the face shifted, as if ripples had passed over water. The features seemed to rearrange themselves, and the mysterious guest was a man again. X did not understand how that could be, and wanted to shake the eerie, vexing sensation. Still, the stranger’s visage was pleasant, and X felt a pull he could not explain.
“Whores, whores, whores!” someone shouted at X’s back. “Every one of them!”
He turned. A short, fat man stood there, his round face framed by a halo-like mane of hair. He wore a dark, slightly rumpled suit; the jacket strained at the shoulders, and the tie was loose around his neck. His clean-shaven face was smooth -- almost feminine -- and his hands fidgeted at his sides, twitching as if the words themselves had unsettled him. X’s chest tightened. What place was this? A nightmare? A dream?
He looked back. The beautiful stranger was gone.
A friend had asked X to come along to a social event -- a party, of sorts, in one of the fancier parts of town. The neighborhood was upper-middle-class, with winding, narrow streets, that forced cars to crawl past large houses with well-kept gardens.
The party itself was more of an extended family reunion than a celebration. X knew no one there, except the friend who had invited him, and the friend had made himself scarce in short order. People of all ages moved through the rooms: children with sticky fingers, elders leaning on canes, and many more older than X. It felt as if all of his uncles, aunts, and all their distant cousins had gathered for the anniversary of some unseen patriarch -- but X recognized none of them.
X moved through the large garden, weaving between clusters of people. Fruit-bearing trees bent low under their bounty’s weight. Tables were laden with food and drink. Garden furniture was scattered -- some arranged neatly, some abandoned -- and toys lay forgotten on the grass. The edges of the garden were less crowded, and X drifted toward the back, away from the street.
There, he noticed a gate. It opened onto a narrow back alley. Beyond it, there were no houses, only a shallow stream running behind the trees.
He stepped through the gate and followed the alley. Gardens ran alongside it opposite the river. Some were fenced like the one he had left; others were open. He walked on, and the party faded behind him. There was no fear of getting lost -- it would have been trivial to simply return the way he had come -- nor any concern thatsomebody might be missing him at the party. Nobody had paid any attention to him.