A Taste Test (2/2)

The evening had all the makings of a success. The warm, inviting glow of the dining room, the soft clink of polished silverware against porcelain plates, and the gentle hum of conversation filled Megan’s home. Her carefully prepared dinner party had only two guests: Brian—who now went by “Bri” around the house, a change he hadn’t even noticed himself—and his boss, Mr. Callahan.

Megan had been planning this night for weeks. From the moment she noticed Mr. Callahan’s lingering glances and increasingly flirtatious tone toward Brian, she knew the man had a particular interest in her feminized boyfriend. And why wouldn’t he? With each passing day, Brian’s soft, slightly curvier body seemed tailor-made for the sleek, black cocktail dress Megan had him slip into before the party. The fabric clung to his slim waist and modest hips, accentuating his smooth, stocking-clad legs that ended in glossy black heels.

Brian barely blinked when Megan helped him into the little black dress earlier, her hands expertly adjusting the hemline and painting his nails a playful red to match his glossy lips. To him, the entire process—the dress, the heels, the makeup—felt as routine as slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The tapes Megan played while he slept had done their job, erasing any resistance before it could form.

“You’re almost ready, sweetheart,” Megan had said, stepping back to admire him. She adjusted the delicate chain around his neck. “There, perfect. Mr. Callahan will love it.”

Brian simply smiled, oblivious. “I hope so. He’s such a nice guy.”

Now, at the dinner table, Megan watched with delight as Mr. Callahan lavished Brian with attention. Callahan’s tone was warm and flirtatious, his gaze lingering just a little too long. Bri, however, seemed oblivious, brushing off his compliments with shy politeness, entirely unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words.

“Bri, darling,” Megan interrupted with a smile, “could you grab some more butter from the kitchen? We’re all out.”

“Sure,” Brian said, rising without hesitation. His heels clicked against the floor as he walked away, unaware of the way Callahan’s eyes lingered on him.

“I’ll make sure she finds what she’s looking for,” Callahan said, his smirk deepening as he stood.

Megan raised her glass in a silent toast, her smile widening as she watched him go.

Brian opened the fridge, bending slightly as he searched for the butter. His painted nails delicately shifted containers aside as he muttered to himself.

“I swear it was here a minute ago…”

The sound of footsteps startled him. “Oh, Megan, I can’t find the—”

He stopped mid-sentence, turning to find himself face-to-face with Mr. Callahan. The man’s towering frame filled the small kitchen, but that wasn’t what froze Brian in place. His eyes drifted downward, landing on Callahan’s unzipped fly, where his erect cock jutted forward.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Brian began, his voice faltering as his mind seemed to short-circuit.

Something deep inside him stirred. A strange, comforting fog settled over his thoughts, silencing any questions before they could even form. He blinked, confusion flickering briefly in his mind as he tried to piece together why this felt… so right. The hesitation dissolved, replaced by a warm, undeniable truth that bubbled to the surface—a realization that settled into place like it had always been there: this was what she was meant to do.

Her fingers steadied, their delicate grace feeling natural, as if they had always been hers. Her lips, glistening with lipstick, parted without hesitation as she leaned forward, letting the tip slide slowly past them. She paused, her tongue swirling in small, deliberate circles, coating him with a slick warmth before her lips tightened around him. A quiet hum escaped her throat, the vibration sending a subtle shiver through Callahan as her lashes fluttered.

Bri moved slowly at first, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm. Each motion seemed more practiced than the last, her movements smooth and controlled as she took him deeper with each pass. Her tongue flattened along the underside, her cheeks hollowing with effort as she worked to please him. Her hands rested lightly on his thighs for balance, her painted nails pressing against the fabric as she adjusted her angle. A soft gag escaped her as she pushed herself further, her throat tightening around him momentarily before she pulled back to catch her breath, a small string of saliva connecting her lips to him.

With renewed determination, Bri pushed forward again, her lips sliding down his length until he disappeared completely into her mouth. Her throat relaxed this time, allowing him to press deeper as her nose brushed against his hips. Her lashes fluttered shut, and a muffled moan escaped her as she held him there for a moment, her body trembling slightly before she finally pulled back, gasping softly. Without hesitation, she resumed her rhythm, each motion fluid and purposeful, her technique a mix of grace and raw enthusiasm.

From the doorway, Megan watched it all unfold, her smirk widening as her glass of wine swirled lazily in her hand. This was it. All the careful planning, all the tapes, all the little adjustments—it had led to this moment.

Her thoughts flickered back to his words from weeks ago: “If I were a chick, I’d be on my knees every time my partner wanted it. It’s not that hard.”

Megan chuckled quietly to herself, savoring the irony. “Well,” she murmured, turning back to the dining room with a satisfied grin, "Bri certainly does make it look easy."