Breathing my true self
A person who breath fire, but instead of fire, it's fem-gas. Anything touching it becomes feminized.
She breath on a dog, it becomes a bitch. She breath on Ken, it becomes Barbie. Bull into cow. She breath on your shorts, it becomes a pleated skirt, she breath on your thorax, it becomes breast.
Imagine kissing such a person. Imagine letting all the femininity go inside you. Your lips become red, your throat narrows, your Adam's apple recedes it fills your lungs, it enters your blood stream. Imagine feeling each individual blood cell carry femininity throughout your whole body. Imagine every muscle of your body, every fat cell, every bone, feminized. The bones so fine, the skin so soft. You can feel it, you are conscious of it.
It lasts and it lasts, you feel every individual cell's Y chromosomes grow a 2nd leg. She breaths into you, you could almost forget her presence if it was not for the warm and sparkly gaseous fluid she was draining into your body. It tastes so good.
You think of yourself like an inflatable doll for a moment. That's what she is doing. Filling the void inside, making you whole, real, touchable, going from a funny abstract concept to a tangible real actor in this society, capable of feeling and effecting the world, capable of affect.
She let go, you breath in some air. The noise of the fresh air entering your nostrils is different, this is the first thing you notice. Your field of view is different, your nose is smooth and lighter, you don't see your eyebrows anymore. The voice in your head is much higher pitched.
You let escape a high-pitched yeep of surprise. It surprises yourself, it's so damn cute. And she looks at you, so satisfied, so proud of you, seeing her gift so appreciated.
You feel some new weight behind your head, heavy hairs hanging around you.
Your bed is now in the shape of a kitsch pink heart, with frills and lace everywhere.
But beyond that, you feel that something else changed, between the ears. It's as if the natural flow of your thoughts were restored, the canals of masculine thoughts were overtaken by the beavers of femininity. They reshaped your mental landscape to their standards, to its natural state. The salmons of emotion can finally climb back up to their nesting place. It's as if your brain was cloudy your whole life and clarity came to you for the first time. The brain finally serves the mind. The body finally yours.
You look at her again, dumbfounded, in shock and awe. You knew what would happen, on an abstract level, but you weren't expecting how much you needed it. She smiles back at you, after a one second delay, almost as an afterthought.
You understand, she's been at it for ages, you are not the first, nor the second or tenth person she liberates. You understand her saintly cause. There is no way of thanking her, she's satisfied by your happiness, and only that, that's all that matters to her.