Felurians lips parted and sighed, making a sound like a dove. I remembered the touch of those lips. I ached, and forced myself to look away from her soft, flower-petal mouth. Her closed eyelids were patterned like a butterflys wings, swept in whorls of deep purple and black with traceries of pale gold that blended to the color of her skin. As her eyes moved gently in sleep, the pattern shifted, as if the butterfly fanned its wings. That sight alone was probably worth the price all men must pay for seeing it. I tore myself away from her face, a face that i could have spent a lifetime studying and still found new features of it to amaze me, and allowed my gaze to travel over the rest of her body down the soft curve of her neck to her supple breast capped in the center with areolas that it took all of my will power to not immediately touch them. Instead I continued on her stomach smooth and beguiling seeming to direct my gaze with its subtle contours. her legs were closed the top leg. Over the weeks I was put in underwear that I'd only ever seen in mymother's catalogues, skirts and tops in outlandishly feminine colours anddesigns, and soft flowing dresses. I'd cat walked across the room inspindly little sandals with a heel, and clunked awkwardly in girls pinkgarish platform shoes. I'd been taught how to be graceful and feminineand drilled in dozens of little mannerisms that would make my debut morerealistic - a real crash course on how to be a girl.I hated it. I felt foolish wearing girls clothes, embarrassed having toact like a girl but most of all I hated the fact that I had to pretend tolike all of this stuff. The amount of stuff they were teaching me made mymind whirl. Did I really need to know all this crap for god's sake?But after a few lessons it dawned on me that apart from a little goodnatured teasing when I got something wrong, the girls weren't actuallygoing out of their way to humiliate me. Nor were they being nasty. In astrange way it was as if they.
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