Different

I knew I want­ed to be dif­fer­ent since I was a lit­tle girl. I al­ways had fan­tasies of be­com­ing some­one or some­thing else. I wasn’t real­ly sure what—maybe I want­ed to be an an­i­mal, or an alien, or a god­dess—but I def­i­nite­ly didn’t fan­cy the idea of be­ing an or­di­nary hu­man. It just felt wrong some­how. I can’t ex­plain it.

I had hoped that, as I got old­er, the feel­ings would go away, and they sor­ta did. They didn’t real­ly dis­ap­pear, though; they just changed into some­thing else. When I went through pu­ber­ty, I grew ex­treme­ly ex­cit­ed by my chang­ing body, and I be­came en­am­ored with my changes. I couldn’t wait for my breasts to grow big­ger and sex­i­er, and I would watch my legs get longer and more beau­ti­ful every day. It was like wish ful­fill­ment for me, see­ing my body grow, and for a while I was glad—it seemed like my child­hood fan­tasies real­ly were just mis­guid­ed imag­i­na­tion, and now that I’d ma­tured, I re­al­ized that all I’d real­ly want­ed was to be a woman. Call me shal­low, but my am­ple breasts, my shape­ly curves, and my pret­ty face felt good. They weren’t for any­one else. They were for me.

Even­tu­al­ly, though, the changes slowed, and be­fore long, they seemed to stop al­to­geth­er. I was no longer chang­ing, and as I grew more and more aware of that fact, fa­mil­iar anx­i­eties crept back into my head. I had be­come a young woman, yes, with all the things that en­tailed, but I want­ed to be dif­fer­ent! I didn’t want to stop! I want­ed my changes to keep flow­ing, to turn me into some­thing unique... some­thing in­hu­man.

Those were scary thoughts.

Of course, with my new­found body came new­found urges, too, and with them came new­found fan­tasies. No longer did I mere­ly have vague wish­es to be dis­tinct, I had new ideas that were both sim­pler and far stranger than the de­sires I’d ever had be­fore. I would lie awake at night, touch­ing my­self, won­der­ing what it would be like to have a tail, or ex­tra arms, or maybe even a sec­ond head. The idea of how peo­ple would re­act was fright­en­ing, but just think­ing about how amaz­ing it would feel to have such a sexy, spe­cial body would give me warm shiv­ers. Of­ten those warm shiv­ers would lead to a sweet­er, stick­i­er sort of ex­cite­ment, and for a long while, that was my bed­time rit­u­al.

Ob­vi­ous­ly, I nev­er told any­one about my de­viant fan­tasies, and as I fin­ished high school and left for col­lege, oth­er things fought for at­ten­tion in my mind. I thought about my cre­ative de­sires less and less, though I cer­tain­ly nev­er for­got about them, and when I had some time to my­self, it was like­ly that I’d slip my hand un­der my pants and en­joy the pic­ture of my­self with an ex­ot­ic body in my mind’s eye.

This just so hap­pened to be one of those nights. I was full of al­co­hol, com­plete­ly ex­haust­ed, and ap­par­ent­ly very needy, so I snuck away from the par­ty a lit­tle bit ear­ly and wan­dered back to my (for­tu­nate­ly emp­ty) dorm room. I hap­pi­ly nes­tled my­self un­der the cov­ers, blushed just a bit, and, a dozen muf­fled squeals lat­er, fell fast asleep.

I woke up with an in­cred­i­ble headache and the re­al­iza­tion that I’d fall­en asleep in my clothes. I rubbed my eyes and glanced to my left—my room­mate, Kather­ine, was still snor­ing soft­ly un­der the cov­ers. I picked my phone up off the floor and glanced at the time: 10 o’clock.

I kicked off my bed­sheets and swung my­self out of bed, care­ful not to tram­ple over the bot­tom of my rather long skirt. I stum­bled over to my small desk and clutched my head, feel­ing very odd and al­most hav­ing trou­ble walk­ing with­out top­pling over. I grabbed my wa­ter bot­tle and took a sip, not feel­ing par­tic­u­lar­ly dizzy, just tired. I sat down on the chair and crossed my legs, ac­ci­den­tal­ly bang­ing my calf against the wood of the desk (which real­ly should have been a clear sign, but hey...).

“Ouch,” I mut­tered un­der my breath, rub­bing my right calf and log­ging in to my com­put­er. I idly browsed for a few min­utes, then shut it off—I wasn’t do­ing any­thing, and I felt sweaty and gross af­ter sleep­ing in my clothes all night. I sighed and de­cid­ed I real­ly ought to take a show­er, so I went to grab some clothes to put on once I was nice and clean.

I was in the mid­dle of pick­ing out a top when I no­ticed some­thing strange: there, on the floor were my san­dals from last night, ex­cept that there were three of them. That didn’t make any sense... I’d some­how man­aged to lose shoes be­fore (se­ri­ous­ly, how does that even hap­pen?), but find­ing a new one was a first. My first thought was that Kather­ine must have a pair just like them, and some­how one of them end­ed up next to mine, but that didn’t make much sense, giv­en that I’d nev­er seen her wear­ing san­dals at all.

I tossed the shirt I’d pulled out onto the bed and bent over to look at the shoes, and I im­me­di­ate­ly re­al­ized that some­thing wasn’t right... two of them were the ones I had seen a mil­lion times, but one of them was weird. It didn’t look like a left san­dal or a right san­dal, it just looked to­tal­ly sym­met­ri­cal, but oth­er­wise it looked ex­act­ly like my oth­er two. Per­plexed, I picked all three of them up to put them in the clos­et, fig­ur­ing I’d ask Kat about the mys­te­ri­ous third san­dal, but when I opened the clos­et up I did a small dou­ble take.

All of my shoes were now arranged in sets of threes.

Al­right, so, ob­vi­ous­ly this was a prac­ti­cal joke, al­beit an ex­treme­ly im­pres­sive one—all of the triplets of shoes were neat­ly arranged, just like how I had left them, ex­cept that there were three of each now. Again, the third shoe in each col­lec­tion—the one placed in the mid­dle of each set—didn’t look like a left or right shoe, but it looked eeri­ly like its sib­lings. Who­ev­er went through the ef­fort to do this rather odd prank must’ve real­ly poured a ton of en­er­gy into get­ting things just right. There was a third ten­nis shoe, a third flipflop, a third high heel... three of every­thing. Weird.

Af­ter star­ing at them all for some­thing like thir­ty sec­onds, my grog­gy brain made a tiny re­al­iza­tion: what had I been fan­ta­siz­ing about last night? I blushed a lit­tle once more as my thoughts went back to my sex­u­al day­dream of my­self with, of all things, three legs. Nor­mal­ly I didn’t pay the con­cept of shoes too much heed dur­ing those ses­sions of self-love, but I re­al­ized, star­ing at all the shoes now sit­ting be­fore me, that of course they would be nec­es­sary! Which meant that some­how, some­one knew about my strange kink, and they went through all the trou­ble to set this up? Who would do such a thing? And what the heck were they get­ting out of it?

Un­less... but no... there was no way.

I stared down at my skirt, heart pound­ing. This was all too weird, I thought to my­self, and I was quick­ly be­com­ing con­vinced I was ac­tu­al­ly still asleep and dream­ing. It ac­tu­al­ly made a lot of sense, giv­en what had hap­pened and what I’d seen. Still, as long as I was in this dream, I fig­ured I would en­joy it, so I tugged up the bot­tom of my skirt and gasped—I real­ly did see three cute lit­tle feet!

I bit my lip and breathed deeply. I re­al­ized I could ac­tu­al­ly feel the third leg pressed against my out­er two, and I could feel my mid­dles toes pressed against the floor. It had felt so nat­ur­al that I hadn’t even no­ticed it, but now that I was fo­cus­ing on it I could feel it clear as day. It was so in­cred­i­bly tan­ta­liz­ing, and I wast­ed no time in tear­ing off my skirt and hop­ping onto my bed, star­ing hun­gri­ly at my three slen­der legs and the three-legged panties I was now mirac­u­lous­ly wear­ing. I had two vagi­nas now, I knew that was true—I could feel each one warm­ly nes­tled be­tween my legs—and I want­ed to touch them and en­joy them. I peeled off my linen panties and ac­tu­al­ly squirmed at the sight of them: I could ac­tu­al­ly feel the cool air against each of the slits, and even though I knew this was a dream, it felt won­der­ful­ly real.

I didn’t waste much time get­ting to work, slid­ing my hands over my beau­ti­ful thighs and slip­ping my fin­gers in and out of my twin pussies. I moaned at the sen­sa­tions, slid­ing my out­er feet against my mid­dle leg, to­tal­ly en­tranced by how that felt. I pushed my­self fur­ther and fur­ther, grin­ning wider and wider, and in just a cou­ple of min­utes I’d man­aged to get my right pussy to cum. The cli­max was in­cred­i­ble, and the ex­cite­ment spilled over into my left side, which or­gasmed soon af­ter, and I squealed in plea­sure at the love­ly feel­ing. I sat there for a long while, rev­el­ing in the glow of my beau­ti­ful body’s to­tal­ly unique or­gasm.

When I opened my eyes again, I re­al­ized I was still in the dream, and my legs were still there. I was sur­prised—nor­mal­ly in my sex dreams I woke up as soon as I came, though ad­mit­ted­ly this was way more vivid than any sex dream I’d ever had. I was about to take off my top and rub my breasts a bit when I got the strange feel­ing I was be­ing watched... I turned my head, and sure enough...

“Oh my god, Kat!”

“It’s about god­damn time, miss,” my room­mate smiled non­cha­lant­ly. “I was be­gin­ning to won­der if you didn’t even mas­tur­bate.”

“I thought you were asleep—” I start­ed, feel­ing ex­treme­ly em­bar­rassed. I shouldn’t care, giv­en that this was a dream, though, right?

“Is that how you’ve got­ten away with it? Well! I’ve been miss­ing out.” She stood up and stretched.

“Miss­ing out?” I asked in­no­cent­ly, though I pret­ty much knew what she was get­ting at: Kather­ine was quite bi, open­ly so.

“It was hot, duh,” she en­thu­si­as­ti­cal­ly replied. “Even hot­ter with those two pussies of yours, I’d al­ways won­dered how you did it...”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stom­ach. My two pussies...? I mean, yeah, ob­vi­ous­ly I had two pussies now, but why did she phrase it like that?

“Al­ways...?” I asked timid­ly, not sure how to phrase the ques­tion.

“Well, yeah. I’ve told you be­fore I think your legs are hot.”

She had, though in the past I had only had two of them.

“So you don’t think it’s weird I have three legs?” I asked in­cred­u­lous­ly.

Kather­ine looked right at me and blinked, and at first I thought she might have fi­nal­ly re­al­ized how weird this all was. In re­al­i­ty, though, all she said was a curt, “Um... no?” She tilt­ed her head con­fus­ed­ly. “I mean, you’ve al­ways had three legs. I would be real­ly weird if, like, I had three legs!” She laughed real­ly hard at that, as if she thought she’d made a real­ly fun­ny joke. “But they’re nor­mal on you. Well, as ‘nor­mal’ as ‘jaw-drop­ping­ly sexy’ can be, I guess,” she added, gig­gling.

I was dumb­found­ed. This didn’t feel like a dream any­more; it was get­ting way too real. “Why is that? Why are they nor­mal on me but not nor­mal on any­one else?” I asked, con­fused and ex­as­per­at­ed.

“Huh? They... just are, I guess.” Kather­ine looked gen­uine­ly per­plexed by the ques­tion. “What’s got­ten into you this morn­ing, any­way? I’m sor­ry I caught you did­dling your­self, but hon­est­ly, it’s no big deal—every­one does it. It’s not like you haven’t seen me do­ing it.”

I shook my head in won­der. Some­how, I had three legs, and my room­mate thought that was to­tal­ly nor­mal. I just had to be dream­ing, right? It just all felt so real! I looked at my naked legs, sit­ting atop one an­oth­er on the bed, and I couldn’t help but ad­mire them. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up...

...but I was feel­ing rather sticky.

I made my way down the hall to the show­ers, feel­ing a lit­tle bit weird stum­bling along with my three-legged gait. I was glad I was wear­ing a skirt, or it would have been es­pe­cial­ly awk­ward as I bare­ly stag­gered along. Some­how, dur­ing those warm nights, I nev­er thought all that hard about what it would be like to live with the changes—I just want­ed to touch two pussies, to squirm un­der­neath the sheets with three legs... and good­ness, now I sort of had. And real­ly, it had been every bit as in­cred­i­ble as I had hoped it would be...

Fo­cus.

The whole thing felt so sur­re­al that I felt like I was swim­ming in­stead of walk­ing, but the rhyth­mic pound­ing of my bare feet against the cold tiles of the bath­room floor and the swish­ing of the fab­ric against my hair­less skin was enough to keep me ground­ed. It was too vivid to be a dream, I had to ad­mit that to my­self, but it was too good to be real. It was some trance, or maybe some drug-in­duced hal­lu­ci­na­tion. Maybe the mem­o­ries of leav­ing the par­ty were just a part of my delu­sion. My head pound­ed, and my body felt sore, but the feel­ing of stand­ing on three feet—three feet of mine, feet that I could feel and move and en­joy—was so tan­ta­liz­ing, and the idea of warm wa­ter trick­ling over my beau­ti­ful new ass...

Breathe.

I silent­ly thanked fate that there was no­body else in the bath­room as I twist­ed the show­er knob and be­gan to strip. I pulled off my shirt and un­clasped my bra, then stared down at my skirt and just mar­veled for a minute or so. I rubbed my bleary eyes and fi­nal­ly tugged at the elas­tic around my waist, care­ful­ly step­ping out of the ring of fab­ric at my feet. I hadn’t both­ered to put my mag­i­cal­ly pro­vid­ed three-holed panties back on, so I stood in the mid­dle of the bath­room, quite nude. I slid my hands over my smooth ass and sighed as I care­ful­ly stepped into the warm wa­ter and let it flow over my smooth, ex­ot­ic body. The rivulets dripped be­tween my cheeks and streamed down the in­sides of my thighs. It all felt so sen­su­al...

Re­lax.

I leaned against the cold show­er wall and shiv­ered slight­ly. My pussies were al­ready aflame once again, and it would be so easy to reach down and touch them... no­body would have to know. This time there was no Kather­ine to peep, no­body to ogle at my strange­ness. Not that she seemed to think it was strange, of course. If any­thing, she seemed like she want­ed to get into my pants more than ever. I slid down the tile wall, hands be­tween my legs, and won­dered what that would feel like.

Sub­mit.

I blushed at where my thoughts had turned, the idea of Kat see­ing me like this and en­joy­ing it turn­ing me on. I had nev­er craved sex, de­spite Kather­ine’s best ef­forts to sell me on the con­cept, but af­ter so many months even she had fi­nal­ly giv­en up. This morn­ing, though, there was a fire in her eyes... she’d caught me fin­ger­ing my­self, kick­ing and squirm­ing, pant­i­ng and gasp­ing for breath as my fin­gers—ah!—my fin­gers squeezed my two clits, my legs rub­bing against—oooh—each oth­er and get­ting cov­ered in my own sticky juices, my soft lips part­ing and a tiny squeal of plea­sure burst­ing forth as fi­nal­ly—

“Aaah­h­hooo, yesssss!”

I top­pled over onto my knees onto the floor of the wet show­er, the wa­ter pound­ing against my back, the sound of my eu­phor­ic shriek echo­ing against the tile walls. I breathed heav­i­ly and tried to catch my breath, when sud­den­ly, I re­al­ized...

Oh fuck that was real­ly loud, wasn’t it?

I froze. I could’ve sworn I heard some­thing. Was... was there some­one in the bath­room with me? Oh shit oh shit oh shit, no­body could know what I was do­ing! Uu­ugh, why had I just done that, any­way? I had just felt so needy, and the wa­ter felt so nice... I shak­i­ly pulled my­self up on my three trem­bling legs and tried to peek over the show­er door for signs of mo­tion. To my great re­lief, it didn’t seem like any­one was in the bath­room af­ter all, and I could only hope that I hadn’t been loud enough to at­tract any at­ten­tion.

I put one hand on my chest and felt the pit­ter pat­ter of my anx­ious heart slow­ly start to sub­side, and I reached for the soap with the oth­er and be­gan to lath­er it over my sore, sticky body.