[Patreon Exclusive] WEREWOMAN: Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Chapter 4

I started to wander the streets, hoping a solution would come to me. With no money, how was I supposed to find some clean clothes? How was I supposed to find somewhere I could clean myself? I had my homeless shelter registration card in my pocket—but it had my male name and my male picture on it. If I wanted to get in, I would have to re-register as a woman, which would take the better part of an hour. I couldn’t wait an hour. I was already quickly losing my mind; I was so goddamn horny.

And then I saw the YMCA in the distance. When I was a teenager, my friends and I used to sneak into the YMCA without paying all the time, to play basketball. We would just wait by the backdoor, which only opened from the inside, and then we would slip in as soon as someone left. Sometimes the staff would even catch us, but they wouldn’t care—it made no difference to them. Most of them were just volunteers who didn’t want to deal with anything while they racked up their court-appointed community service hours.

I went to the backdoor of that YMCA and then I slipped in at my first opportunity, which didn’t take long. The layout of the place was nearly identical to the one in Kansas City, so finding the shower room was easy. The halls were quiet and the place seemed mostly empty. There were a few guys playing basketball on the court, and a few more lifting weights in the little upstairs gym. I slipped into the shower room and got undressed.

I was midway through my shower when someone walked in, tossed their towel onto one of the towel hooks, and then stepped into the shower area. I looked over: it was a man. He looked at me and his eyes grew wide. “I’m sorry, am I in the wrong room?” he said, and he turned and looked at the door. That was when I realized I was in the wrong room. In my frenzied state, I’d briefly forgotten I was in the body of a woman, and on instinct I’d walked into the wrong shower room. I quickly covered my pussy with one hand and my tits with my free forearm. “I’m sorry,” I said, and then I turned to grab my towel.

And then I looked back at the man. He was surprisingly handsome. He wasn’t terribly fit, a bit flabby in the stomach and the arms, and balding slightly, but he had a nice face with shining eyes. He looked like a fun fuck, and I couldn’t help but fantasize: him pinning me to that shower wall, ramming me from behind with his big cock. I could just imagine his belly pressing against my back with every deep penetration, his scruffy chin rubbing against my shoulder while he whispered into my ear, telling me how tight my cunt was.

“We could shower together,” I said.

“What?” he said.

I walked over to the door and locked it. “No one will find out. It can be our little secret.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m married,” he said, his cheeks turning red.

“She doesn’t have to find out either. I’m already wet and I bet I can make you hard in just a few seconds. A little fucking never hurt anyone, right?” I let my towel fall to the wet ground, exposing my naked body.

His cheeks were dark red now. He stood there silently, staring at my body, his lips parted as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t come up with any decent words.

He was wearing baggy sweatpants, which slipped down easy with one little tug. He put up no fight. He just stood there silently. I could tell he wanted it, he just didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t have to admit it. I wanted what I wanted and I was going to get it. I sunk down to my knees and I tugged down his boxers. He had a fat cock that curved to one side. I took it in my hand and I started to stroke it. I’d never felt anything more satisfying, as if a pressure was being released from my bones—like cracking your stuff knuckles, or finally getting that pestering knot out of your back.

He took a deep breath and a shudder ran through his body. He kept looking over his shoulder to make sure the door was still closed and locked. Maybe his wife was in the YMCA with him—maybe she was taking a shower in the ladies’ shower room where I should have been.

I got him nice and hard. Erect, his cock was even fatter. I couldn’t wait until it was in my pussy, stretching me wide. My own warm fluid was running down my inner-thigh, I was so fucking horny. “I want your come in me, big boy,” I said, and then I stood up, turned around, and placed the palms of my hands on the shower wall. I looked over at my shoulder and I swayed my bum slightly, inviting him over.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped up, ran his hands down my sides, and then I felt the tip of his cock press up against my pussy. He was trembling, red-faced, painfully nervous. “C’mon. Fuck me,” I said. I needed it so badly. I needed it more than anything I’d ever needed before. I felt like I was going to die if I didn’t get it, and maybe I would. Maybe I would end up like that crazed wild woman running up and down the Lowlands looking for prey. It would be long before I was forcing myself on someone just to satisfy that craving.

He penetrated me and my body filled with an incredible jolt of euphoria. Goddamn, did it feel good. My whole body relaxed in an instant. “Holy shit, you’re wet,” he said.

“Fuck me. For the love of God, fuck me!” I said. He followed the command and started ramming me from behind, his cock squishing my warm juices out of me. I could feel every inch of his fat cock, every vein and hard ridge. It wasn’t the prettiest cock, but it sure felt like pure bliss. One of his hard veins was perfectly rubbing my clit, making my legs tremble, making me moan. I’m not sure how many times I came while he fucked me, or if I ever stopped coming from the moment he was inside of me.

I couldn’t help but wonder, Is this what it feels like being fucked as a woman? Does cock always feel this incredible? I wanted more. I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want the moment to end. But when his fingers started to dig into my sides and he started to grunt, I realized it was about to end, and I was going to need to find myself another outlet.

He pulled out before he came, which I wasn’t happy about. He finished himself off with his hand, beating his hot load all over my lower back and my tush. I wanted to feel him filling me up, but he was probably afraid I was some lunatic trying to get pregnant or something. It wasn’t the end of the world. Once our shower-room romp was finished, I felt way better. I felt like I had control over myself. I took a few deep breaths.

Somehow I knew the cravings would come back that night. I needed to start figuring myself out before they came back, because I knew I might not be so lucky the next time. And judging by how quickly the last round of cravings intensified, I knew I didn’t want to screw around.

I grabbed my towel and ran across the hall into the women’s shower room. I started going through unlocked lockers. Plenty of people are too cheap to pay the quarter to lock their locker, so they just stash their things and hope no thieves come around. I didn’t feel great about myself when I found an unlocked locker that had everything I needed in it: nice clothes, shoes, and a purse with plenty of cash—but I was fairly certain I needed those things more than she did, so I took them and then I took to the streets in my new black dress, black heels, and little black purse. I made sure I was a few blocks away from the YMCA before slipping into a little public bathroom to investigate the contents of that purse. There was about three hundred pounds in cash and a little makeup kit.

I spent the next thirty minutes doing my makeup, getting myself all dolled up so I could successfully lure a man as soon as the cravings came back—and I could already feel them seeping back into me.