Point of view

by Cheryl Anderson

 

Okay, you asked. My story goes something like this: You have to see things from my point of view, to know how I ended up here. I wasn't just poor, I was invisible. Imagine, being the fourth of six children, with the only adult in the house a single mother who was always chasing the next dream dad for her kids. She usually just ended up getting pregnant, and then dream dad would take off with the next bimbo. Horrible thing to say about your own mother, but it's true.

Well, I never new my father, but he must not have been a very impressive physical specimen, given by the time I was 17 I was fully grown at 5'6" and 125 pounds. Plus, my features were non descript to say the least. I had a weak chin and a small nose, though I did have big brown eyes. When people would refer to our family, and try to list the kids, the one they always left out was me. Even my half-brother, Wayne, used to call me, "that little fairy," and beat me up when mom wasn't home. I just never quite showed up on anyone's radar, with one exception: Cassie.

Cassie was from the same white trash background that I was, and we were neighbors. And like me, she was smart and ambitious. And dirt poor. "One day," she used to say to me, "we're getting out of this rat hole town, and we'll show everyone who ever ignored us. We'll show them all." So that's pretty much how we ended up at the branch campus for the state university, barely scrapping by on grants and loans, living on cans of spagetti-o's and whatever we brought back to our crappy little apartment from my job as a busboy and hers as a waitress at local diner.

So, basically we went from poor, to being poor with a full schedule of classes and two crappy jobs.

After a couple months of this, Cassie had had enough, and one night I came home to find her in her room stretched out on her bed, touching herself in front of a little Web cam and typing messages to guys from who knows where. Now, we were always friends, and I'd seen her naked several times -- she basically thought of me in a total non-sexual way -- but this was still a complete shock. To say she was pretty would be an overstatement, but she had blonde hair and pleasing enough features, a killer chest and a round, if small ass and thighs – she always said I had a nicer ass than she did. I started to say something, but she shushed me and told me to beat it. An hour lately she came out and announced she was quitting her waitress job, having just made $127 doing web cam porn shows. Tax free -- hey, she was the business major, so what did I know?

But the next thing she said was a shock: I could quit my job too. It turns out that there was a demand on the web cam network she'd joined for crossdressers, and with a little makeup and a wig, she thought I'd make a good enough CD to please a lot of customers. Given I didn't have strong features to begin with, when she was done making me up I was amazed at how I looked. My lips were bigger and red, and my big brown eyes were made absolutely stunning after being lined top and bottom, mascaraed, shadowed, etc. I couldn't stop looking at them. I mean, for the first time in my life I looked like somebody – I made an impression, even though it was not exactly how I would like to be seen.

Degrading, yes? But if I could quit that crappy job, and make $127 for a couple hours work, I was for it. And remember, I had zero self esteem back then. The next night, I was stretch out on my bed, having been shaved smooth by Cassie, with a cheap shoulder length blonde wig and some extreme makeup, lying in a pink nightie and talking dirty to strangers.  They all wanted to see my cock, and put something in my ass. The first request I had no problem with, the second one wasn't something I was willing to do then. Believe it or not. I didn't look much like a girl, bodywise, more like a skinny guy in drag, but I did manage to hold the interest of a dozen guys for a few minutes, and keep one older guy online for 22 minutes, which meant $36 dollars, all in all.  So what if I jacked off for them? I probably would have been doing it anyway. Not much money, but considering that's how much I made in a shift, not bad at all.

The gurls making the real money, of course, were the actual transsexuals. Boobs and a cock could easily make four or five times what I did.

So Cassie and I became cam whores. And eventually it became almost routine for us. I could afford to buy my own makeup and wigs, though after a couple months I grew tired of those hot, stinky things, and just started letting my hair grow out. I'm a brunette -- kind of medium brown, which Cassie made more feminine by adding some blonde highlights. Hey, it's not like I was dating anyone, and it was easy just piling my hair under a baseball cap when I went to class. It may not sound like much, but with my own hair, and better outfits (school girl, waitress, cheerleader), I was soon bringing in $60 a night for a couple hours work. And I liked the work. I liked being noticed, and I soon became expert at little feminine gestures that would really turn guys on. I'd flip my hair, put on lipstick, wiggle my round little ass, and cross my legs just like Cassie taught me. The more feminine I acted, the more attention I got, and the more money I made. The key to being a cam gurl is regulars – guys who'll tune into you a few nights a week and spend $1.75 a minute to chat with you, one-on-one. One dollar of that goes to you, and rest to the company that operates the network.

So, do the math. Working five nights a week, that was $300, times 52 weeks a year, is $15,600. Along with loans, that made for a pretty comfortable living our first year at school.

But Cassie was always thinking ahead. By the end of our second semester, she was bringing in girls to do girl-on-girl shows (yes, she's bi), and even convinced her caveman of a boyfriend to do her on cam.

One night, she had an inspiration. And always one to do market research, she had us ask our steady clients if they'd like to see a CD and a real girl making out. Only a few did, but boy, those that did couldn't get enough. Of course I'd fantasized about Cassie, but I have to say that actually kissing and touching her was something I looked forward to. We never actually did the deed though -- I guess she thought that was too much. But when one guy said he's pay to see her do me with a strapon, she was all for it. Figures. So that week she had me stretch myself using butt plugs (i even wore them to class), and she bought a dildo that she made me practice deep throating (it's not bad if you use that numbing throat spray). So Saturday night I became her cock sucking whore on cam, and then she pushed me down on my chest, lifted my ass in the air, pulled down my panties and fucked me silly. The moaning was only partly an act: It actually feels good once the initial pain goes away, and I loved being the object of attention. I rolled my eyes in ecstasy, bit my lip, flipped my hair – a real command performance. (After that, I had no problem fucking myself, even with a huge, 10-inch, cockshaped dildo.)

That was a $450 night.

Like all things though, they kind of wear out after a while. We never made that much again, and though we were now on several cam networks, our take continued to be steady but modest. I found though, that the nights I didn't do cam shows, I missed it. Again, it goes back to the being invisible thing. I know I was straight, and I was getting attention from men, but I liked the attention. Maybe it's because I grew up without a father figure, but I was attracted to men who called me their little girl, and made me do things to please "daddy." I got real satisfaction from pleasing them, which was good, because considering my hair was now past my shoulders, my legs shaved smooth and my eyebrows plucked in a graceful arch, I wasn't going to be getting any dates from girls.

If fact, I was starting to get eyed by guys, who I guess had to look hard to figure out if I was a guy or a girl. Part of that was it was hard to separate my cam life from my real life. I found myself tucking my cock between my legs, crossing my legs, walking with a wiggle, and even not taking off all the mascara. Plus, sometimes I'd just fall asleep in a nightie and panties, and wakeup to shave my legs and do a little cam work. After a while, that kind of thing just gets under your skin.

I was now almost 19, and finally was beginning to get some muscles. Which was a disaster. Who wants to see a CD with muscles? My take was dropping rapidly, and my weight had risen to over 135 lbs. Cassie ordered some drugs that would bind the male hormone, testosterone, and stop the growth of more muscles. But it made me lightheaded and feeling -- well, weird. Depressed really, and my sex drive evaporated, which made me want to work less and less. So Cassie ordered me some female hormones, explaining that they would give me back my sex drive, and as long as I didn't take too big a dose for too long, there would be no permanent changes. I know, I know. I should have known better, but we were almost done with our sophomore year, and I knew I only needed to log a couple more years in front of the cam to get my degree.

I was worried about the hormones, so I began taking them under a doctor's care. It's easier than you think. You go to shrink, say you're a girl trapped in a guy's body, take a few tests (we'd found them online, so I knew just how to fill them out as a true transsexual would) and you get a prescription plus regular blood tests to make sure the levels are correct.

To put it mildly, the hormones worked. I was quickly back down to 125 lbs, and then to 118 lbs, and my muscles just evaporated. My income increased back to previous levels, and all was right with the world. My boobs had gotten sore after about two weeks, and I watched them carefully to make sure I could cut down on the hormones if they ever started to develop. When I noticed that my nipples were puffy, I cut the dose in half, but they continued to grow more puffy, and sore. Just wearing a t-shirt was irritating, so one morning when I examined them and thought they were now beginning to be surrounded by a little bit of actual breast tissue -- fat, in other words -- I stopped all together.

But enough hormones in my system kept them developing even a week after I stopped the hormones. I few of my regulars even asked if I was growing boobs, and to keep them interested, I said yes, and made a point of touching them (which by this time felt very good) and making a big deal about it. A baggy shirt covered my little boobies when I went to class, and from what I read, they would soon shrink back to normal boy size.

But even the IDEA I was becoming an actual transsexual turned on so many guys, that my income increased more than 50%. I couldn't give up that extra money, and I found myself staying online for more and more time every night. Sometimes I would be on until 3 a.m., and stumble into class half dead. But I was making $25,000 a year. $25,000 a year. And all because of a set of tiny boobs and the promise of more to come.

Cassie was thrilled, and had even given up some of her cam time to curl my hair, put on my makeup, etc., so that we'd make even more. When I say "we," I meant it. All our cam show income went into a communal bank account -- and that includes when Cassie was making twice what I was. Now that I was making so much more, it was only fair. Share and share alike. She bought me more and more elaborate outfits -- corsets, silk babydoll nighties, etc. -- which leveraged our income even more.

Did I mention that I went back on hormones? How could I not? And now my ass was starting to swell, and waist shrink, which only got me more regulars and more money. One morning I was looking at my ass in pink pajamas and I got this feeling of déjà vu. Then I realized, I was looking at my sister Janine's ass. It looked exactly like it – a bubble butt that jiggled a little when I walked. I tried shaking it like she always did when she danced, and with a little practice I could just get my hips to move like a stripper. I was mesmerized by my own ass, and knew it was a goldmine. From then on, I always made sure to dance a little for my customers. My nipples had expanded and become a kind of dark pink (just like my sisters'), and I was an "a cup," no question. All that happened in the summer between our sophomore and junior year. Just how big they'd become I didn't know -- two of my sisters were relatively flat, but the third was very chesty - a d cup.

My regular clothes had begun not to fit properly -- my jeans were loose in the waist and tight in the ass. I constantly folded my arms over my boobs and wore baggy shirts to cover them up, and so that my bra wouldn't show. Yes, I had to wear a bra -- believe me, if you had big, sensitive nipples, you would too.

Cassie was doing ever more elaborate things with my hair, like pig tails, french braids and spiral curls. Plus, my salon dyed it to a light brown, with blonde highlights. The girls there were thrilled with how I was "turning out," and wanted to know if I was going to "go all the way" -- meaning become a girl through surgery. I just laughed -- I loved going to the salon and getting the attention of all those pretty girls. Though, of course, they treated me as just another girl.

One thing about taking hormones, my sex drive was definitely less, which was good, because I definitely wasn't going to get any in my current condition. It was Cassie's idea to register me with the university as a transsexual, and to just dress as a girl fulltime. It was becoming a hassle to lead a dual life, and I was sick of the looks of people trying to figure out what sex I was. So, it was dresses, skirts and girl jeans starting my junior year.

Now I was definitely getting looks from guys. Constantly. And I was being asked out! Me, Mr. Invisible, was being asked out on dates! I could now afford to abandon my hermit-like existence, and Cassie and I did some double dates with guys she knew, introducing me as Cheryl, her roommate. After all I'd done for guys on cams, fucking myself with huge dildos, playing with my boobs, dancing, etc., it wasn't a stretch at all to kiss them goodnight after taking me to a movie and a nice restaurant. I began to finally enjoy college life as it was meant to be enjoyed. I usually didn't dress too sexy, though by now I had a big wardrobe that included a lot of ultra low rise jeans, and low cut tops. The one thing I didn't like about my new body was my waist, which had never quite shrunk to girl proportions, though my hips had certainly expanded. One night though, for a guy named Peter, I wore a low cut, VS, blouse and let him squeeze my boobies. I had to show him how I liked my nipples pinched, and he took the initiative and started sucking them, which just about sent me into orbit. He started to feel up my thigh under my short skirt, so I told him I had my period, and we'd have to do that later. I ended up giving him what he said was the best blowjob of his life. It was the first time I'd tasted cum, but it wasn't as bad as I'd thought.

It kind of bothered me that I was giving away something that I could get paid for. So many guys online had offered me thousands of dollars to "take my cherry," that I figured I should cash in. So one night, after he had transferred $1,500 to my checking account, I met an older man named Paul. I was gorgeous in a little black dress, my b cup boobies spilling over the top, and my now honey blonde hair nicely curled. I met him at the Hyatt, and in two minutes I was ass up on the bed, and he as fucking my super fuckable ass, as I looked idly in the mirror at the scene I never in a million years would have anticipated just a few years earlier. He came too soon, because I'd just gotten to the pleasurable feelings, but, money is money. I gave him a deep kiss goodbye, and left him and his limp cock, and joined Cassie in the hotel bar to tell her how it went. She made a big deal about me finally becoming a woman, but it was just another step and another way to make money. I didn't do this often, but every couple of months I would lose my virginity anew.

I'd begun to think of myself in terms of my assets. How did my boobs look in this top? Am I walking so they jiggle a bit? How is my ass displayed in these pants (I never wore ones with rear pockets)? Can men see the top of my thong when I bend over? Is my hair shiny and clean? Are my eyes properly made up? And then, when I walked into the world, I casually absorbed and thrived on all the attention and adoration – I even liked the jealous looks from other girls.

Now, I wasn't the hottest thing on campus, but that would soon change.

After a year and a half on hormones, I was having trouble cumming, and even getting hard. This didn't really affect my cam income, but it was a factor in what Cassie figured would be our final big score: Movies. This kind of fell into our lap, after a guy who was a cam regular said he was into producing porno films, and wanted me to star in one. It turns out he did make pornos, but very cheap and tawdry ones with poor distribution. The idea stuck with Cassie, however, and she sent pictures of me to several of top producers.

They were interested, but in order to really sell a film, I needed bigger boobs and I really needed to get hard, so we had to act quickly. If I could get at least d cup boobies, I'd be guaranteed of $100,000 up front, and a percent of the gross – at least, that's the deal Cassie struck after hiring a top entertainment lawyer and doing a lot of intense negotiating. Now, all that remained was having the boob job. At a cost of about $6,000, that wasn't so bad, but Cassie suggested I have some other changes too. A little lipo on my waist, so I'd finally have a slender girl's stomach, and a little plastic surgery to my face, so I'd look even more feminine. All and all, the bill would be $20,000, though it could be deducted from earnings, for tax purposes.

When I woke up after surgery, Cassie was there holding my hand, and smiling this weird kind of smile. I asked what was so funny, and she said, "It's just, you look so different. I mean, you look just like your sister now. You could be twins." I remember showing the surgeon a picture of my sister, and talking about possible changes, but when the bruises healed, I could see Cassie was absolutely correct. I had a chin! A cute girl's chin, but a chin just the same. My lips were much bigger than my sister's, but still full and kissable. And my cheeks had been hollowed out a little, giving me sharper cheek bones. I was stunning, even with these big cock sucker lips.

And then there were my new boobs. Part of it was seeing them suspended above my 23 inch waist, but the dd cup was amazing. From every angle, they were the first thing you looked at. They even came out beyond my chest on the sides, so you could see them from behind. I literally had to learn to steer them, so I wouldn't bump them into doorways and people and … everything. Not only were they the focal point for me, they were for everyone I encountered. Men, women, young and old. You couldn't help noticing these big round gorgeous globes on my curvy frame. Any man would fuck me, and I truly loved that feeling of power. I would spend hours shopping for bras to get just the right look for them – t shirt bras, demi bras, and push up bras for amazing cleavage. In a corset with demi cups, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

Just walking to class was an exercise in adoration. Professors got tongue tied when I went to ask them to bump up a grade in a test – which they always did, making sure to bend over so they'd get a full view.

It was with great pleasure that I got my degree (in Communications) that spring, and went home for the first time in years to show my mom and sisters. Of course, they were totally shocked and couldn't believe it – both that I'd become such a hot girl and had earned a diploma. My mother just sobbed uncontrollably about how she'd failed me -- that it was all her fault. Which, of course, it was, and I told her. I made a big deal about how I had to become a whore to pay my way through college. Cruel, yes, but I figured I deserved some payback. My half-brother, Wayne, who had never paid any attention to me while growing, up was now focused on my boobs, and couldn't tear himself away. He followed me like an obedient puppy when I went upstairs to freshen up before dinner. I'm sure he got a nice shot of my ass under the tight black mini I was wearing. After dinner Wayne offered to drive me back to the airport, which I accepted. I made sure he loaded my luggage into the car, and held the door for me. His apartment was on the way, and I asked him to stop there for a quick pee stop. Luckily, his live-in girlfriend, Gina, was out, so we had the place to ourselves.

We sat on his crummy couch, and chatted over some sweet tea, while I bounced and jiggled my boobs until he was straining in his jeans. I could see out the window, and waited until I Gina drove up, and then leaned over, took Wayne's hand, and slid it on my right breast. He had both hands on my boobs and was sucking my left nipple when Gina walked in, screamed, and just stood there in shock. "But honey," Wayne pleaded, "it's not what you think. This is my brother!" I couldn't have scripted a better scene. With that, she slammed the door was never to be seen from again. I only learned later that she was carrying Wayne's child. But, oh well.

With all my scores settled, it was time to more to California and start my career as a transsexual porn star. I figured I'd become rich in about three years, and then maybe I'd send momma a little cash. Maybe.

You know the rest from the headlines. After the first film, we were audited by the IRS, and Cassie skipped town after it became apparent we were in some serious trouble. All the proceeds of that film went to paying back taxes, and after that, no studio would touch me.

But my body is my best asset, and obviously I'm still able to pay the rent doing cam shows, photo shoots and letting men like you fuck me or suck my little dick. Which reminds me, you just have ten minutes left until my next date comes. Do you want to fuck, or what?

  

  

  

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