I don’t really wake up.
One moment the simulated sleep is running, the next the System simply stops it. Morning light is already in the room. My body feels rested even though I never actually slept. The low, familiar heat sits quietly in my lower stomach, waiting.
Today is the pool with Jessi.
I sit up and stretch. Small breasts shift with the movement. The empty space between my legs still feels wrong and right at the same time.
I have to wear a swimsuit.
The thought lands heavier than it should. I’ve been in this body for four days. I’ve worn her underwear. I’ve worn leggings with nothing underneath. I’ve walked through a gym in a sports bra. But a swimsuit is different. A swimsuit is designed to be looked at… At least that’s what the part of me that’s still a guy thinks.
I dig through Ana’s drawers until I find the one she usually wears, dark blue, one-piece, cut higher on the hips than anything I’ve ever worn as a guy. I hold it up. The fabric is thin. Stretchy. There isn’t much of it.
I take it into the bathroom and close the door.
Standing in front of the mirror, I step into the suit and pull it up. The material is smooth and slightly cool as it slides over my skin. It settles tightly against me, compressing my small breasts and outlining the shape of my hips and the soft mound between my legs. I turn sideways, then face forward again.
I’m not used to seeing this on myself.
As Ethan I used to throw on a pair of loose board shorts or simple black trunks and that was it. Baggy. Shapeless. Nothing clung. Nothing outlined anything. I could walk around a pool without a second thought about how I looked because there was almost nothing to look at.
Now the entire suit is painted onto me.
The dark blue material follows every curve. It digs slightly into the soft flesh of my hips. It pulls tight across my ass so that the shape is unmistakable. Up front it presses against the smooth mound between my legs, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. My small breasts are flattened and lifted at the same time, nipples faintly visible through the fabric if I look closely enough.
I turn again, watching the way the high-cut legs make my thighs look longer, the way the back of the suit sits high enough that a good portion of my ass is bare.
This is the kind of thing I used to stare at.
Girls walking past in suits exactly like this. The way the material stretched. The way it showed everything without actually showing skin. I used to get hard just from looking.
Now I’m the one wearing it.
And I’m looking at myself the same way.
My hands start moving before I fully decide to.
Fingers trace the edge of the fabric along my hip, then around to the back. I cup one side of my ass and squeeze. The flesh gives under my palm. I do it again, harder, watching the way it looks in the mirror. Then, almost experimentally, I spread my cheeks a little with both hands, feeling the cool air against skin that the swimsuit doesn’t fully cover.
I keep my hands there.
Fingers digging lightly into the soft flesh, holding myself open just enough that the mirror shows everything the swimsuit doesn’t cover. The cool bathroom air brushes against skin that feels suddenly very exposed.
Why does that feel so good to look at?
The thought comes first.
Then another one right after it, quieter and worse:
…and why does it feel so good to do?
I’m not just looking. I’m the one spreading myself. I’m the one deciding to show more. My own hands are the ones holding my cheeks apart while I stare at the reflection like it belongs to someone else. The small act of doing it, of choosing to put myself on display even though the only person watching is me, sends a low, dirty pulse straight between my legs.
I swallow.
My face is already flushed in the mirror. The dark blue swimsuit is still pulled tight across the rest of me, but back here I’m deliberately making it worse. Making it more. The contrast between the modest front of the suit and what I’m doing behind it feels almost perverted.
I hold the pose a second longer than I need to, just to feel it.
Then, slowly, I let my hands slide away and bring them higher.
The swimsuit is tight across my chest. I press my palms over my small breasts, squeezing through the fabric, feeling the nipples stiffen almost immediately. A soft breath leaves my mouth. I pinch them through the material, rolling them between my fingers until the sensation shoots straight down.
“Ah…”
My right hand slides lower.
I pull the crotch of the swimsuit to the side. The cool air hits my already damp folds. Two fingers find my clit first, circling, then slip lower and push inside. I’m wetter than I expected. The stretch is easy. I watch myself in the mirror the entire time, the girl in the blue swimsuit with her legs slightly apart, one hand working between her thighs, the other still playing with her chest.
It builds faster and dirtier than usual.
I keep my eyes open. I watch the way my fingers disappear. I watch the way my ass looks when I shift my weight. I watch the flush climbing my neck. When the orgasm hits it is sharp and deep, pulling a broken sound out of my throat as my walls clamp around my fingers.
“Ahhh—!”
My knees weaken. I have to brace one hand on the sink to stay upright while the waves keep coming. Soft, shaky after-sounds keep slipping out of me.
Afterward I just stand there, swimsuit still pulled aside, fingers shiny, breathing hard.
That was… more intense. More perverted.
I was spreading my own ass and staring at it like it belonged to someone else.
And it was the first time I’ve ever seen myself in something like this… Doing something like this…
The System window appears without warning.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Succubus Desire Calibration in progress.
Sexual expression is being gradually expanded.
Current stage: Early Adaptation
No further action required at this time.
I stare at the message until it fades.
So this is part of it.
It’s pushing me. Slowly.
I peel the swimsuit off, clean up, and change into normal clothes, leggings and a loose t-shirt, I’m still not ready for shorts for half of my ass to be sticking out while walking the streets... I pack a small bag with the still-damp swimsuit, a towel, and Ana’s flip-flops. The entire time my body still feels oversensitive. But at least I got it over with so I should be okay at the pool… Right?
I leave the apartment and walk to campus.
The pool locker room is exactly what a former guy would have called heaven.
Open benches. Rows of lockers. Women in various states of undress. Some are fully naked, casually drying their hair or applying lotion. Others wear only towels. A few are still in their street clothes, peeling them off without any self-consciousness. The air is warm and smells of chlorine and skin.
My eyes move before I can stop them.
I catch glimpses of breasts of different sizes, the curve of hips, the soft lines of stomachs and thighs. One woman is bent over searching for something in her bag, completely bare. Another stands in front of a mirror adjusting a bikini, completely unbothered by who might be looking.
I used to imagine places like this.
Now I’m standing in one.
As one of them.
Then I see Jessi.
She’s already half-changed, wearing only her bikini bottoms, top still in her hand. Her body is soft and athletic at the same time. Full breasts, smooth stomach, the kind of figure I would have stared at for a long time in another life. Now the feeling is more complicated, appreciation mixed with something akin to envy… I don’t fully understand it yet.
She looks really good.
And I’m standing here in a girl’s body thinking that while I’m about to get naked next to her.
I find an empty spot near her and start undressing. Pulling my shirt off feels exposed. Stepping out of my shorts even more so. I keep my eyes mostly down, but the awareness of being surrounded by bare skin makes my lower stomach tighten. I feel like every pair of eyes in the room could be on me, and I’m stripping for them… even though, realistically, no one is paying special attention, I’m just another girl in their eyes.
Except Jessi.
I’m bent over, reaching into my bag for the swimsuit, when her voice comes from behind me.
“Damn, Ana. Your ass looks really good in those leggings.”
Before I can react she gives it a light, playful slap.
The contact is sharp and sudden. A jolt shoots straight up my spine and down between my legs. A tiny sound almost escapes my throat, half gasp, half moan, but I choke it back just in time. I straighten up fast, face burning, and refuse to look at her.
“It’s not a big deal,” I mumble, focusing very hard on unfolding the swimsuit.
Jessi just laughs, soft and warm. “Relax. I’m allowed to compliment my friend.” She tilts her head, eyes dropping deliberately down my body and back up. “Seriously though. That ass is looking real good. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to get stared at.”
I keep my eyes on the fabric, trying to make my hands look steady while I step into it.
“So where the hell have you been?” she asks. “It’s been like a week. You went radio silent on me after that last text.”
“Just… busy,” I say. “School stuff. Got behind on a couple things.”
“Busy enough to ignore your best friend?” There’s no real heat in it, just the usual Jessi teasing. “I was starting to think you found some secret boyfriend and were too busy getting railed to answer.”
My face goes hotter. I pull the suit up over my hips, the tight fabric snapping into place against my still-sensitive skin.
“No boyfriend,” I manage. “Just… needed a few quiet days.”
Jessi’s expression softens a little, though the teasing doesn’t fully leave her voice.
“Yeah… I figured. After you finally cut that long-distance thing off I thought you might need space. That’s why I didn’t blow up your phone.” She leans against the locker, still only in her bikini bottoms. “He did have a sweet body, I’ll give him that. But man, that guy was a jackass. Glad you broke it off.”
She reaches out and flicks one of the straps on my shoulder into place, fingers brushing my skin longer than necessary.
“You look better,” she says, quieter. “Lighter. Like you’re actually ready for new adventures instead of waiting around for some guy who couldn’t even be bothered to visit.” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
I finally look at her. She’s smiling, easy and familiar, like nothing about this is strange. Like I’m still exactly the same Ana she saw a week ago.
“I’m here now,” I say, voice quieter than I mean it to be.
“Good.” Jessi pulls her own top on and ties it with practiced ease, then gives me another once-over that feels a little too thorough. “Because I’ve been saving up at least three separate rants and you’re going to listen to all of them while we swim. And if any hot guys show up, I’m making you talk to at least one of them. Doctor’s orders.”
She grabs her towel and nods toward the pool entrance.
“Come on. Before I start without you.”
I finish adjusting the last strap, heart still beating too fast, and follow her out toward the water.
The cool air of the pool deck hits my bare skin. The swimsuit feels even tighter now that I’m standing under open sky with nowhere to hide.
Jessi catches up a few seconds later, already smiling.
“Ready?”
I nod, even though my heart is still beating too fast and the place between my legs is still warm from everything that just happened in the locker room.
We walk toward the water.
The water is colder than I expect.
I step down the ladder and the chill hits my thighs first, then my stomach, then the thin fabric between my legs. The suit clings even tighter once it is wet. Every step makes it shift against skin that is still too sensitive from the bathroom this morning.
Jessi is already in. She ducks under, comes up with her hair slicked back, and grins at me.
“Don’t just stand there. Swim.”
I push off the wall.
The first few strokes are wrong. My chest is small, but it is still there, and the water pulls at it every time I reach. The suit rides. The high-cut legs let the current slide straight against the bare curve of my ass. I have to keep adjusting or the crotch of the suit starts to slip.
This is not how swimming used to feel.
As Ethan I just moved. Arms, legs, breath. Nobody looked. Now every time I stop at the wall I catch someone looking. A guy on the far lane. Two more on the deck. One of them does not even pretend to look away when I turn.
I look back.
I should not. I do it anyway. Shoulders. The line of his stomach above the waistband. The way the water sits on his skin. Heat flickers low in my stomach, small and stupid, and I shove off the wall before it can settle.
We do laps. Jessi talks between them. A professor. A guy from her seminar. Something about the costume party next week that I only half hear because I am busy trying not to think about how the suit feels every time I kick.
“You’re quiet,” she says when we stop at the shallow end.
“Just swimming.”
“You’re staring.” She follows my eyes and laughs. “Oh. Him. Yeah, he’s fine. Don’t be weird about it.”
I was not being weird. I was being a guy who just noticed a body and then remembered the body I am in is the one being noticed back.
We stay in longer than I want to. Every rest break is the same. I look. Someone looks back. The place between my legs stays warm even in cold water. By the time Jessi says sauna, I am already too aware of my own skin.
The sauna is worse.
Heat hits the second the door closes. Wood, steam, the smell of other people’s sweat. Jessi drops onto the upper bench and leans back like she owns it. I sit beside her because standing feels more exposed.
There are only a few people in here. Two girls on the lower bench. A guy in the corner with a towel over his lap.
I try not to look at him.
I look anyway.
The towel is loose. Every time he shifts, the edge moves. I see skin. Then more skin. Then the thick, flushed tip of his cock, just sitting there under the towel like he does not know or does not care.
My stomach drops and heats at the same time.
Why am I looking at that.
Why is my mouth dry.
Why am I thinking about how warm it would be if I—
No.
Jessi’s head tips onto my shoulder. She is relaxed. Eyes half closed. She has no idea what I am staring at.
The guy shifts again. The towel slips another inch. I can see the shape of him now, heavy against his thigh, the head still peeking out. My thighs press together. The wet suit is stuck to me. Every breath makes the fabric drag over my nipples.
I should look away.
I do not.
Jessi follows my eyes a second later.
“Oh my god.” She sits up. “Dude. Your dick is out.”
The guy startles, grabs the towel, and mutters something that is not an apology. Jessi is already pulling me up by the wrist.
“Come on. We’re done.”
The cold air outside the sauna hits like a slap. My skin prickles. The spell of the heat breaks all at once, and what is left is shame and the low throb I did not manage to kill.
“Did you see that?” Jessi says, still half laughing. “Just hanging out. I mean, it was not a bad dick, I’m not gonna lie. But come on.”
I make a noise that could be agreement.
She does not notice how hard I am breathing.
The locker room is louder on the way back. Women changing. Showers running. Jessi peels her top off without thinking and heads for a stall.
“I’m rinsing. Don’t vanish.”
I take the stall at the end.
The second the water hits me I know I am not just rinsing.
The suit comes off. It peels away from my chest, my hips, the soaked fabric between my legs. I hang it and stand under the spray with my forehead against the tile.
The image is still there. The towel. The tip. The way my body answered before I told it to.
My hand slides down.
I should not do this here. The walls are thin. Jessi is two stalls over. Someone could walk past the curtain.
I do it anyway.
Two fingers. Slow at first, then not. The water covers the sound. I pinch a nipple with my other hand and the jolt goes straight down. I think about the guy in the sauna. Then I think about the guys on the pool deck. Then I think about Jessi’s hand on my ass in the locker room and I hate that it helps.
“Nnh—”
I bite the sound off against my wrist.
It builds fast. Too fast. The orgasm hits while I am still trying to stay quiet, knees soft, fingers curling, a broken breath leaking out of me anyway. I stay under the water until the shaking stops.
It helped. Not enough. The low heat is still there, just quieter.
I dry off, wrap the towel tight, and step out.
Jessi is already dressed, leaning on the locker across from mine with one eyebrow up.
She does not say anything at first. She just looks at my face. Then lower.
“Your nipple’s peeking,” she says. “You might want to fix that.”
I yank the towel up. My face is on fire.
She smirks, but she does not push it. “Hurry up. I want coffee before I go home.”
I get dressed as fast as I can. Leggings. Loose shirt. No bra, because she was rushing me. The shirt is thin enough that I keep my arms crossed on the walk over.
“Hey. You two were at the pool, right?”
I look up.
Gym bag over one shoulder. Hair damp. A tight shirt that has not finished drying, stuck to his chest and the line of his stomach. He is taller than me by a lot. Broader. The kind of body I would have clocked and then pretended I had not.
Jessi grins like she ordered him.
“We were. I’m Jessi. This is Ana. She’s bad at introducing herself.”
“Jake.” He looks at me when he says it. Not at Jessi. His eyes drop, quick, to the thin shirt and the fact that I am not wearing a bra. My nipples are still tight from the shower. I know he can see them. I cross my arms and it only pushes them up.
“Hi,” I say.
He laughs once, easy. “You swim here a lot?”
“First time in a while.”
“Figured. I would’ve remembered.”
The line is simple. It still lands low. I can smell him. Clean sweat, soap, the heat coming off a body that just finished lifting. My thighs press together under the table. I hate that I am doing it. I do it anyway.
Jessi kicks me.
“She’s free,” she says. “Recently. Tragically. You should get her Snap before she remembers how to run.”
“Jessi.”
Jake is already holding his phone out. “Only if you want.”
I should say no. I take the phone. My fingers brush his. They are warm and rough and bigger than mine, and the contact goes straight between my legs like the shower did not happen. I type Ana’s handle. He sends the request before I can hand it back.
“Got you.” He does not sit. He shifts his bag and the shirt pulls tighter across his chest. Then he steps in, like a goodbye hug is normal with someone he met four minutes ago.
I do not move away in time.
His arms come around me. Solid. The hug is brief and too close. My breasts press flat against his chest. I feel the heat of him through both shirts. Lower, against my stomach, he is not fully soft. Not a full hard-on. Enough. A thick, warm weight that twitches once when I do not pull back immediately.
Oh.
That is his cock.
Against me.
In a coffee shop.
My breath catches. My hips almost tilt into it before I catch myself. He feels that too. His hand stays on my lower back one second longer than a friend’s would, fingers spread, right above the curve of my ass.
“I’ll message you,” he says against my hair. His voice has dropped. “Don’t leave me on read.”
He lets go. The place he was pressed is still warm. I sit down too fast. Jessi waits until the door closes.
“Ana.” She is delighted. “He was hard. A little. I saw your face. You felt it.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. And you liked it. Your ears are red.” She leans in. “If he texts, you answer. I will check. I’m coming over tomorrow either way.”
On the surface we finish the coffees. Under it I can still feel the shape of him.
Under it I can still feel the shower.
She walks me to the corner, then peels off toward her own building.
“Answer him,” she says. “I mean it, Ana. I’m coming over tomorrow, and I’m checking the phone.”
The apartment is quiet. I lock the door. I stand in the middle of the living room and just breathe.
Pool. Sauna. A stranger’s cock under a towel. My own hand in a public shower. And then Jake, damp from the gym, hugging me long enough for me to feel him get thicker.
My phone buzzes.
Jake:
Hey. Glad I came in for coffee.
You looked really good today. The swimsuit and the after.
I stare at it. My face heats. Another message follows, a mirror shot from the gym entrance, shirt still clinging, the line of his chest and the soft heavy shape in his shorts not quite hidden.
Jake:
This is me, so you know who you’re talking to.
I should not look that long. I do. The outline. The way the fabric sits over him. My hand drifts to my stomach, to the exact place he pressed, and a pulse goes through me so sharp I have to sit down.
Jessi texts before I can answer him.
Jessi:
I’m guessing the pool guy already texted you. Don’t you dare ignore him. I’ll be checking your phone tomorrow.
How does she know.
I open his chat. I keep it short. Dry. Safe.
Ana:
Hey. Nice to meet you.
Jake:
That all I get?
Ana:
It was a long swim. I’m heading to bed.
Jake:
Fair. Sleep well, Ana.
I lock the phone and put it face down. My heart is still going. The polite version is a lie. The real one is that I can still feel his cock against my stomach and I almost pushed back into it.
I change into soft pajama shorts and a loose top. No bra. No underwear. The fabric is light enough that every shift of my breasts is obvious, and they are still tight from him looking.
I eat something because I am supposed to. It does nothing.
On the couch I replay the hug until I am wet again. I do not touch myself. I am afraid if I start I will picture his hand on my lower back sliding lower, the weight of him, the way he said don’t leave me on read.
The System window opens, dim in the darkening room.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Male prospect logged: Jake.
No action required at this time.
Then another window.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Simulate sleep to accelerate time?
I hesitate.
Then I accept.
My eyes close.
Tomorrow Jessi said she is coming over.
I do not know yet that she means it.