Chapter 1


 When they open the door, a stray cat is there, soaking wet with rain.

“I got dumped,” she offers.

“Oh my god,” says Fran, taking her hand and pulling her into the warmth of the apartment. “Oh, no…!”

“Oh, no,” says Lia, eyes wide with concern. “Oh, no, you poor thing…”

“You poor thing!” Fran agrees.

The cat’s ears flick back. “I’m okay,” she says, breaking the feedback loop. “I mean – I’m okay. I’m fine. I feel good, actually.”

“Yeah?” says Fran.

“Yeah?” says Lia, helping the cat pull off her drenched jacket.

“Yeah. I mean… y–yeah.” They’re pulling her through the tiny, rickety hall of their apartment. Escorting her like a wounded animal. They sit her down in the middle of their dingy sofa, and crowd around her, cooing and waving their hands as they try to find some way to treat her wounds.

The cat works up her courage again. “It’s, it’s a good thing he dumped me, I mean. He, we, we wouldn’t have worked out.”

“I always thought he was a jerk,” Fran huffs.

“The next time I see him, he won’t know what’s coming,” Lia says, grinding her knuckles into her palm.

“What happened, though?” says Fran, suddenly talking to the cat for the first time.

She balks. “He! I mean! Y’know! He…” Her ears are all the way back as she figures out how to phrase the coming words. “He said I was too… feminine.”

Fran explodes. “Too feminine? What a fucking… what a fucking…”

Lia shakes her head. “Disgusting.”

“Internalized homophobia.”

“The worst.”

“You’re too good for him, J–”

The cat suddenly butts in. “He said, that, he was only interested in… men who act like men. So I said, um, I told him, that, uh…”

“Oh my god,” Lia says, simmering.

Fran looks deadly. “He’s not welcome in this town anymore.”

“How can anyone be so self-loathing?”

“I’m going to pay him a visit.”

“No, we’re both gonna –”

“I TOLD HIM,” the cat practically shouts, “THAT I’M A GIRL.”

The sudden silence in the apartment is overwhelming. The windows rattle through the roar of the rain, squeezing all of the space out of the room.

“I told him I’m a girl,” she repeats, quietly. “S–so, he dumped me, of course. A–and, so, um, I don’t have anywhere to stay anymore…”

Lia is the first to break the silence. She pulls the cat into a tight embrace from her side of the couch. Her arms are buff, and warm, and she pulls her in as firmly as she can, as if to shoo the rest of the rotten world away.

“You can stay with us as long as you want,” Lia coos.

“Yeah,” says Fran, joining in from the other end. “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetie.”

“We’re your best friends.”

“You’re our best friend.”

“We love you.”

“Yeah, we love you a lot…”


Lia is tall, and buff. Her upper arms are about as wide around as one of the cat’s scrawny thighs, and she has long, flat blonde hair and the eyes of a concerned maiden. She’s a jackal girl with a long face and tall, perky ears. Despite everything, she’s a calming presence to be around.

Her girlfriend, Fran, couldn’t be more unlike her. A short, chubby raccoon with a braid, scary eyes and an off-putting demeanor that belies the fact that she’s at least as sweet as her girlfriend. Usually. To the right people.

And their mutual best friend. The cat. She’s tallish, though her eyes only meet the level of Lia’s lips. She’s thin as a stick with messy black curls and a nervous look. It doesn’t matter when, or where – she’s nervous about something.

She’s nervous right now – naturally. But in spite of all that’s happened today, and the bomb she just dropped, she’s oddly collected. After eating some reheated stew in awkward silence, she’s back on the sofa, trying to think of words to say, but nothing will come out. She isn’t crying, but she isn’t sure what she’s feeling, either.

It doesn’t help that her best friends, sitting on either side of her, are twiddling their thumbs. They can’t seem to form words either. The cat knew that coming out to them would go okay, but she wasn’t sure what more she was expecting.

Fran is the first to break the silence. “So, um, have you thought about names at all? What should we call you?”

The cat flicks her ears. “Oh, um… I haven’t really come up with anything yet,” she lies. Of course she has, but even now, she can’t scrounge up the courage to say it out loud. Not yet.

“Oh! That’s fine,” Fran smiles. “If you ever do… y’know…” She trails off into silence. The cat stares at her feet.

The windows rattle. The rain patters. Fran clears her throat.

This is awful. The cat hates doing this. It’s in her nature to be small and unassuming, slink by unnoticed. This feels like such an imposition on her friends. She knows they care about her, but of course there’s no magic words they can say to ease the tension. 

She doesn’t even know what she wants from them. She’s making a scene! She’s the worst! She’s taking advantage of her friends to house her, and –

And then Lia blurts out. “Look, I’m just gonna say it. You’re cute as fuck.”

The cat blinks. “Um.”

“God, yeah,” says Fran, looking relieved. “Just, the cutest. Fuck your boyfriend and his masc4masc bullshit. You’re just like…”

“I just wanna squeeze her forever,” says Lia, picking up energy. “Y’know?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Fran turns back to the cat. “You’re so nice. And you’re really pretty.”

“And we don’t mean that in like, a patronizing way. Like, it’s not like that validates your gender or anything. Just, FYI, you’re a really cute pretty girl.”

“God! Yeah! I’m sooo! Just!” Fran has both of her hands on her cheeks.

At some point, the cat realizes that she’s smiling. She can feel her face heating up. “Um, you don’t, you don’t have to say all that –”

Lia takes the cat’s long, bony fingers and intertwines them with her own. “No way, we love you.”

Fran squeezes her other hand. “Yeah, we love you. This pretty girl right here.”

All of a sudden, the cat is almost giddy. She’s used to getting swept up in their back-and-forths, but she’s never seen them this affectionate before. She starts to say something, balks, and then murmurs it too quietly to hear.

“What did you say?” asks Lia.

“S–say… say it again… th–that I’m…” She’s blushing up to her ears, trying to hide herself in her long arms, trying to disappear into the couch cushions, trying to escape from herself in a million different ways. But she pushes the words out. “Say I’m… a pretty girl… again.”

“Ooohh!” Lia can’t take it. Already sitting sideways, Lia wraps her arms around the cat’s slim frame and pulls her in so she’s sitting on her lap. With her arms around the cat, she almost sings the words. “Pretty girl.”

Now Fran has both of her hands, squeezing them so hard it hurts. “Pretty girl!”

“A lovely girl,” Lia agrees, holding on tight. The words ring in the cat’s ears, giving her momentary goosebumps.

It’s intoxicating. The cat is giggling quietly. She can’t help it – she’s so excited, so glad, so real. She’s a pretty girl. Sitting there with her long, bony arms, her callused hands, and her cracking voice, she can’t help but believe she’s a princess.

And when the two of them toss her around like this, she feels so small.

A few hours later, when the rain has died down and the clock strikes eleven, Lia and Fran are looking tired. Before either of them can motion to go to bed, though, the cat gets up.

“There’s one last thing I need to do today,” she says, as Fran and Lia watch from the couch. She roots around in her jeans pockets and pulls out two small pill bottles. Fran looks confused, but Lia gets it immediately.

“Are those your…”

“I finally got a prescription filled,” the cat says with a small smile. “That’s kinda what started all this…”

“That’s so great!” Lia says, excited.

“I was gonna take them as soon as I left the pharmacy, but I thought… I wanted to take the first ones with friends.”

“What’s going on?” asks Fran, confused.

“She got her girl pills,” Lia explains. Fran lets out an “Oh!” like she should have known that.

The cat sits back down. In her palm are two pills: a round white one, and a tiny blue one. One to kill the T, and one to begin the E.

“I’m gonna do it,” she says. “I’m gonna do it,” she says again, like it’s a threat. Lia rests a hand on her shoulder. “Here I go.”

She pops them in her mouth and tries to swallow… 

…then gets a horrified look on her face, scrambles for a nearby glass of water, and downs them with a big gulp. She sticks her tongue out and scrunches up her face from the bitter taste. “What was that?!”

“Oh, sorry,” Lia chuckles, grinning wide. “I should have warned you about the spiros.”

“Y–you know about this stuff?” says the cat, surprise mixing with the disgust on her face.

“Oh! Yeah. Well, I’m trans too, so.”

A fast silence settles as that sinks in. Lia suddenly looks terrified. “Oh my god, I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”

“N–no!” says the cat, so dumbfounded that all she can do is laugh. She turns to Fran, half-expectantly.

“I’m not, FYI,” Fran says plainly. “But me and Lia have been close for years, so…”

The cat slumps back in the sofa, feeling something like relief wash over her.

Fran leans forward, excited. “More importantly! How do you feel? Do you feel anything yet?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Lia just looks amused. “She wouldn’t feel anything yet, Fran. This stuff takes time.”

“No,” the cat says, looking at the ceiling. “I think I do feel something.”

“Ooh, what?” asks Fran.

“I feel… safe.”

“So, um… we gotta go to bed now,” says Fran. “You should come too, if you want.”

The cat is standing awkwardly, unsure of where to put her body. She looks towards the ratty couch. 

Lia interjects. “You don’t wanna sleep on the sofa. Weird bugs come out of it at night.”

“Yeah, you should come sleep in our room,” says Fran, taking the cat’s hand. “Don’t worry, there’s no imposition or anything.”

“Yeah, we’d love to have you.”

The cat isn’t sure where this is going as she follows them into their bedroom. Inside, clothes cover the unpolished wooden floor and hang from the rafters. A tiny, chunky television paints the knotty walls blue. Their bed, perhaps the only object in their apartment that looks new, is a queen size, and it takes up most of the space in the tiny room.

“I don’t know if there’s enough room for me to sleep on the floor,” the cat says, worried.

“I’m telling you,” Fran finally says, “you can sleep with us. If you want, I mean. The bed’s a little cramped for three people, but it should be fine.”

The cat feels a little weird about it, but she’s beginning to give into her tiredness. Lia is already slipping into a nightgown in the corner.

“I don’t have any pajamas,” the cat says, less out of protest and more out of practicality. “And my clothes are still pretty wet…”

Fran starts searching the room. “Oh! Here!” She picks up a massive t-shirt off the floor, gives it a sniff, and hands it over. “Don’t worry, it’s still clean. It’s one of Lia’s. It should be big enough on you to be kinda like a gown.”

Too embarrassed to change in front of her friends, the cat slinks outside. With her jeans and shirt off, she pulls on Lia’s t-shirt.

It really is huge. The cat is tall, but in this thing, she’s swimming. It smells a bit like their apartment, and a lot like Lia. She feels a little warm in the head.

Folding her clothes and putting them somewhere they can dry, she returns to the bedroom. Lia and Fran are already in bed, sitting on either side. Lia pats the space between them with a friendly grin.

Quietly, the cat climbs into bed with them. It’s cramped, but her friends’ body heat on either side makes it surprisingly snug.

She sinks beneath the covers as Fran turns off the TV, leaving the room in complete darkness. Between the warmth of the two bodies next to her, and the exhaustion from the day’s events, the cat is ready to drift off.

She whispers in the silence.

“I did actually come up with a name.”

She hears Lia and Fran shift next to her. She clears her head and takes a deep breath.

“It’s, um… Isabella.”

In the darkness, four arms wrap around her body, and four lips whisper: “Isabella.”


Chapter 2


It’s early morning, sun is beginning to shine through the cave of clothes and cobwebs that is Francesca and Lia’s attic bedroom, and Isabella is skipping across the pond of awakeness.

She rises with the sun, but today it’ll have to tear her out of bed if it wants her. Still half asleep, the previous day’s events are beginning to surface in her mind. As always, the first thoughts to greet her are her worries.

For once in her God damn life, she wants to sleep in. There’s a thousand and one things to fret over waiting outside this room, and the bed is so toasty and inviting. Her pillow, pressed up against her face, is so soft and warm. Trying to push the wakefulness away, she nuzzles her face in deeper. This is the best sleep she’s had in months, and she won’t let it get away from –


Her pillow lets out a contented sigh.

Immediately, Isabella pulls her face out of Fran’s tits and flings herself upright. Oh, no. Um. Um. Um.

Thankfully, Fran is still sound asleep. Flushing with embarrassment, Isabella wonders how long she’d been doing that. With growing dread, it occurs to her that she usually sleeps with a body pillow.

She rubs the sand out of her eyes. It’s time to get up, she decides.

Trapped between two sleeping bodies, she doesn’t have an easy time moving. She begins to shift to get out of bed, and places her hand on Lia’s dick for support.


Lia lets out a happy noise and mumbles in her sleep. “Not now, Fran…” Isabella, already dying of embarrassment, tries not to absolutely, blatantly ogle Lia’s massive morning erection.


Finally managing to escape the bed, Isabella heaves a huge sigh. This is… a lot.

She steps out of the bedroom and tries to collect her thoughts. Today, she has one thing she absolutely needs to do. When her boyfriend dumped her yesterday, she stormed out without so much as packing a thing, and as much as she hates it, she knows she’ll have to return one last time to collect her belongings.

If she’s going to go, better to do it early. It’s 6 AM and the sun has only just risen. She begins looking for something to wear, and finds her clothes from yesterday, folded up and hung over the sink. She touches them and finds them still soaking damp, and now freezing from the night air.

She has nothing else to wear, but… she flicks her ears in annoyance. She hates touching wet things. Quietly, she returns to the bedroom. She’s still wearing Lia’s too-big T-shirt. She begins searching the messy room for some kind of bottom. (She tries not to take notice of Fran’s.)

Getting her filthy, unacceptable mind out of the gutter, she spots something in the corner that looks like it might fit.

It’s a pink skater miniskirt.

It has an elastic waistband, she rationalizes. It should fit her no matter what, she rationalizes. Holding it in front of her, she stares at it for a long time.

For one moment, this skirt represents everything. Her contempt for an ex she tried too hard for too long to bend herself for. Her blind anger against everything and nothing from a lifetime spent in the shadow of a world that doesn’t want the person she wanted to be. The countless hours she spent envying pieces of cloth like this one. The days she spent watching the crowds for people with bodies like hers, trying to feel real.

Anyway, she slips it on and it looks super cute. She rules. Fuck you.

Standing outside her ex-boyfriend’s house, Isabella has been trying for ten minutes to work up the courage to knock. She’s god-awful at talking to people and even worse at confrontation; it’s half the reason she was in that awful relationship for so long. She’s cowering on his doorstep with her tail between her legs.

She takes a deep breath, clears her head. She tries to think of something calming. She drags her mind through soft images. Clouds, sunsets, beebirds chirping, smiling friends. The warmth of the bed last night. Lia’s dick.

Isabella shakes her head furiously, trying to wash away the sin. Oh, no. She needs to distract herself somehow. Oh, no.

She knocks, hard.

When she realizes she’s finally done it, she waits with trepidation. When no answer comes, she knocks again.

Beginning to get annoyed, she knocks a little harder, then a little harder. Is he trying to ignore her? Ha! God. That’s just like him. He tried to ignore her for a year straight, didn’t he. He loves to ignore his problems. She’s pounding now. Well look at your fucking problem now, she’s standing here in a skirt and her hot friends are gonna beat you up if you don’t OPEN THE DOOR –

She rests her head against the door, breathing hard.

A lot of awful feelings are oozing out of Isabella today. So many rotten emotions she never knew were building up until she saw the clear light of day.

He either isn’t home, or he’s dead set on ignoring her. Either way, she needs her stuff. She’s never coming back here again.

Taking a step back from his doorstep, she looks around. His second-story window is wide open. There’s a drainage pipe bolted to the brick close by. A plan forms in her head… and she immediately discards it.

She sighs and walks away. No matter her roiling emotions, she’s not a reckless person. She’ll come back later.

She will not come back later.

Isabella, the reckless cat in a pink skirt, begins climbing the drainage pipe. She’s light as a feather, and the pipe seems to support her. She shimmies up with difficulty, finding just enough purchase to wrap her fingers between the pipe and the places it’s bolted to the brick.

She somehow manages to make it all the way up to window level. From here, it’s not too far to reach the ledge. She just has to work up the courage… and not look down.

Isabella looks down. Beneath her, a weird-looking red-haired girl looks up in confusion, then blushes furiously and hurries away.

Isabella’s having a lot of firsts today.

She steels herself, finds purchase on the window ledge, and shifts her weight onto it. At last, she releases the pipe and scrambles to pull her upper body into the window.

She tumbles into her erstwhile bedroom, panting and shaking with adrenaline.

When she recovers, she looks around her. Her side of the room is exactly how she left it less than a day ago. Her ex is nowhere to be found.

Relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with him, she begins to pull together her belongings for the last time.

Dear Jerk,

I’ve collected my stuff. You can keep whatever I left behind. I won’t be coming back. Please don’t talk to me ever again.


Isabella pauses to think for a moment, then adds:

P.S. My girlfriends want to beat you up. You should lock your windows.

She giggles mischievously. “My girlfriends.” A cute little embellishment.

When Isabella finally gets home, she finds Fran and Lia still asleep. Humming to herself, she decides to put her plan into action.

Today, she’s going to cook the two of them breakfast. She thought of it on her way home from her jerk’s house and dipped into the market to get ingredients.

She cleans up the piles of uncleaned dishes and gets to work. Fran works at some kind of food place, so she probably has more experience than Isabella. Still, she’s determined to do her best.

A while later, a sleepy Fran steps out of the bedroom. Still in her underwear and a camisole, it seems to take her a few moments to realize what’s going on.

“I… Isabella! You’re cooking?”

Isabella turns around, mixing a bowl of pancake batter. She blushes at the sound of her name coming from someone else’s lips.

“Y–yeah,” she mumbles, smiling into the bowl. “I just thought, since y’all were so nice to me yesterday… I wanted to do something special.” She feels the need to temper herself. “I can’t guarantee it’ll be any good! Though!”

Fran is gawking, wide-eyed. “Are you a saint?”

Isabella’s shy smile widens. “N–no?”

Fran flashes an unusually genuine expression, but Isabella can’t quite put her finger on it. “That’s so sweet. Lia and me will love it for sure.” She giggles, and Isabella turns back to the counter, feeling proud.

“Oh, by the way,” Fran adds, as Isabella hears her moving around behind her, “cute skirt! Where’d you get it?”

Isabella drops the bowl on the counter with a loud clatter and whirls around. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything else to wear I should have asked you I hope this is okay–”

Fran is grinning from ear to ear. “You’re beautiful, Izzy.”

Isabella lets those words hang in the air for a moment.

She’s not sure she’s ever heard them before.

No, she has. But until now, she’s never been the right person to say them to.

Her vision starts to blur, and she pretends to look interested in a knot in the wall. “Oh, um,” she starts, pushing the emotions away, “while we’re on the subject of invasions of your personal space, um… I feel like you should know that… this morning, I woke up with my face in your… in your boobs.”

Fran looks confused for a second, then bursts out laughing. “Hahaha! Is that all!”

“I also touched, um, I accidentally touched Lia’s, um, h–her priv… her privates, by accident–”

Fran steps in close to Isabella and looks up at her, flashing that same undefinable expression from before. Isabella’s eyes dart all over the place. Fran reaches up… and enthusiastically pets her on the head.

“It’s okay, Izzy. You’re a good girl. You don’t have to repent to us. Not now, not ever.”

Isabella feels goosebumps bloom on her cheeks as her face heats up. Fran lingers with her hand lowered for too many long moments, looking up at her with long eyelashes. Finally, she pets Isabella again, this time a little more softly.

“Good girl.”

She turns and disappears into the bedroom again, but pokes her head out to add: “Oh, and you can stick your face in my tits all you want. That’s what they’re there for.”

Somewhat later, Isabella pauses for a moment and thinks: Izzy?

“You broke into his house?

“I–I mean, if you put it like that… I just climbed in through the window…”

“The second-story window,” Fran adds, unable to contain her amazement.

“Well… it… it was open, so…”

At the end of the long day, Fran, Lia, and Izzy are sitting together on the dingy couch in their terrible attic apartment. The only lighting comes from the (now-muted) television and a dim corner floor lamp.

Where Fran is amused, Lia is stunned. She swings one arm around Izzy’s neck and gives her a squeeze. “I just can’t believe you had that sort of thing in you, Isabella!”

Izzy looks at the floor. “Hehe… well… I didn’t, either. I think I have a lot of things in me I didn’t know about.” She shifts her weight around, still gazing down. “A lot of awful things came out of me today.”

Lia squeezes tighter, pressing their heads together. “Oh, honey… things are gonna get so much better for you. You were so big today.”

Izzy nods, leaning into Lia slightly. From her other side, Fran wraps her arm around hers and rests her head on Izzy’s shoulder.

“Now I just wanna… be really small, for a while,” Izzy says quietly.

Lia smiles wide and her eyes shine with a look of adoration Izzy has never seen before. Lia turns to Fran. “She’s so sweet,” she gushes. “She’s so perfect!”

“She’s a treasure,” Fran nods.

“She’s such a good girl,” Lia cries, squeezing Izzy as hard as she can and nuzzling her with her nose. 

Izzy feels like she’s melting. Her friends are so affectionate, so open, in ways she always wished she could be. “I…”


“I love you. I love you two…” Her voice is muffled in Lia’s caressing arm. “Is that okay for me to say?”

Her friends are suddenly quiet. Fran leans in closer, and says, in a more gentle and serious voice than Izzy has ever heard her speak in, “Of course that’s okay, Izzy.”

“Nothing in the world is more okay,” Lia whispers, pulling away and catching Izzy’s cheeks in her palms.

Izzy realizes, all of a sudden, that her heart is pounding. Her chest is exploding with something fluttery, her head is swimming.

She feels like she’s not allowed to say this, like she’s not allowed to love her friends so honestly. She feels like she’s getting away with something.

Isabella, the reckless cat in a pink skirt, pushes through and says it again.

“I love you two. I think you’re the most important people I’ve ever met.”

Lia stands up abruptly and takes Izzy’s hand in hers. Eyes twinkling with affection, she asks: “Izzy, do you want to come with us to the bedroom? It’s more comfortable for cuddling and… stuff like that.”

Nameless excitement runs through Izzy, and she nods. Fran looks ecstatic as Lia silently takes both their hands and walks them to the bedroom.

Izzy has



what’s going on anymore.

Something visceral within her feels like this shouldn’t be happening, like this runs so contrary to everything she knows.

Fran and Lia… 

They’ve been her best friends for a long time, but over the past not even two days, they’ve opened up so much. She’s opened up so much, and each time she does, they respond. The more honest she is, the more affectionate they are. The more she loves them, the more they love her.

For the first time in her life, Izzy isn’t performing. She’s not tempering her wants or her affections. And her friends… like her for it.

The bed creaks as Izzy sits at its foot. Her hands rest limply at her sides; she’s not totally sure what’s going to happen.


Fran sneaks up behind her and wraps herself around Izzy, giggling. She pulls her back, rolling her towards the center of the bed. Izzy lands laying face-up, and Fran and Lia drape themselves over her, holding her snug and warm.

“That breakfast today was so sweet,” Fran says in a sweet murmur. Izzy flicks her ears from the proximity.

“Yeah,” Lia agrees, stroking Izzy’s head. “I wanna give her lots of attention.”

Izzy’s face is burning up. They’re doing the thing where they talk about her to each other while she’s right there. They probably think it’s just cute, but it makes her feel so –

“Small,” says Fran. “You said you wanted to feel small, right?”

Izzy nods. “This is good… s–stuff like this…”

Lia blows a cute laugh through her nose. She snakes her arms and leg tighter around Izzy. “Pretty girl,” she whispers. “Isabella.” Izzy can’t help but smile. No, she’s beaming. It makes her so giddy still. 

Everything right now is perfect.

Lia gently pulls Izzy’s face towards hers. Looking into her eyes, in a quiet voice, she asks: “Would you like it if I kissed you?”

Izzy goes bug-eyed.


She realizes before she can stop herself what she was going to say. How far can this possibly go?

She glances at Fran, still snuggled up on her other side. She looks serene.


wants to be honest. She has a million questions, but at the same time, an overwhelming need to see how far this goes. How  honest she’s really allowed to be.

“Yes,” Izzy says, in the smallest voice.


Lia presses her lips to Izzy’s. It’s just a light touch, just for a moment. But it’s warm, and soft, and Lia smells so nice. Just for a few seconds.

She pulls back and studies Izzy’s face. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Izzy says, smiling timidly.


“Y–yes.” The honest answer comes out of her, a little easier this time.

Lia rests her free hand on Izzy’s jaw and leans in again. Another soft, small, safe kiss. But this time, the first kiss rolls into another, and another. Gentle pressings of their lips. Izzy closes her eyes and feels it out. 

It isn’t her first kiss. But she and her boyfriend never kissed much. And more importantly, she’s never kissed anyone as a girl. And even though they’re her same lips, it feels so importantly different. Her chest almost hurts.

We’re both girls…, she muses to herself. Scandalous…

Izzy is smiling against Lia’s mouth as they kiss. She’s in bliss. She finds tiny sounds bubbling up in the back of her throat, and she doesn’t try to kill them.

Lia suddenly licks her upper lip, then pulls back, grinning. “Do you still feel okay?”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathes, dreamily.

She feels a hand on her cheek. Fran, the girlfriend of the girl she just made out with, guides Izzy’s face toward hers.

Her blood freezes for a second as reality comes crashing back. She’s about to bolt upright and scream a series of apologetic noises when Fran’s lips press against her mouth.

Izzy makes a small pip of surprise and shuts her eyes as Fran makes out with her. Fran’s lips are even softer than Lia’s, and still taste slightly sweet. Fran slips her arms fully around Izzy’s head, cradling it tight against hers, and tentatively runs her tongue across Izzy’s lips.

She obliges almost automatically. Izzy is completely pinned in place by the two girls as Fran explores her mouth. Much less cautious than Lia’s kiss, Fran’s is more impatient and hungry. Izzy wiggles a little, but that only settles her friends’ snuggles more tightly against her. Her body feels feverish as she becomes acutely aware of all the places her skin is touching pretty girls. Everything is soft and warm, and she can feel the weight of their caressing limbs pushing her into the mattress.

Fran pulls away, and a pathetic whimper escapes Izzy’s throat. “Still good?” Fran asks, and Izzy can only nod. Her flushed face betrays how into this she is. She wants to stop and talk about all the boundaries that are rapidly exploding, but the only priority she can think about in that moment is feeling more lips on hers.

As if on cue, Lia is back to kissing her. Izzy feels like she’s being passed around. She feels giddy with excitement, but a sense of overwhelming calm runs over her at the same time. Her chest is getting tight, her breathing is getting rough.

A quiet rumble begins to form deep in her body.

While Lia kisses her, Fran grins like it’s Christmas. “Oh my god,” she breathes, “is she purring?”

Finally, Izzy snaps out of her reverie and sits bolt upright, killing her… embarrassing noise… and putting some distance between her and her friends.

“J–j–j–j–just one moment,” she chitters, panting, her hair a mess. “Y–you two, um, y–you, just, what – what – is going on?”

Fran and Lia look surprised and more than a little remorseful. “Oh, Izzy, I’m so sorry,” Lia starts, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I shouldn’t be so… forward.”

“No,” Izzy says, shaking her head. “I, I, you didn’t – make me uncomfortable, or anything, I… I just mean… is this, okay? D–doing this kind of stuff with me?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” says Fran, looking bewildered.

“I just mean… I don’t… I don’t want to, like, come between you two?”

“Nonsense,” says Fran, waving her hands dismissively. “We’d love to have you come between us.” She winks.

FRAN!!” Lia shrieks.

Izzy just blushes even harder, tail wagging nervously. Lia returns to Izzy, wiping the annoyance off her face. “Izzy, there’s no coming between us. You are ‘us.’ At least, if you want to be. We both love you. I’m really glad you’re watching out for our boundaries, but don’t worry. You remember how I said we’re poly?”

Izzy blinks. “N–no?”

Lia looks mortified. “Oh my god, I’ve talked about this before, haven’t I?!”



“What are you looking at me for?” Fran scoffs, looking offended.

Finally, Izzy can’t help but break out laughing. “S–so… oh. Well… I guess… that all explains it. Haha…”

Lia pats the space between them, beckoning Izzy to come closer again, and she scoots back in. Her head is adrift with questions. She looks for one to start with.

“So, um… what kind of relationship does… this mean we have?”

“We don’t have to have any kind of relationship,” Lia says.

Fran nods. “Yeah, you’re not like, obligated or anything. We love you a whole lot! We just wanna show you in whatever way you, like, feel okay with.”

“We’ll never try to push your boundaries or anything. Nothing without your explicit consent. It’s all up to you.”

It’s not like Izzy has never heard of this kind of relationship before. But she’s in a bit of a daze. She wants to identify the point where she crossed the line with Fran and Lia from “friends” to something more, but she can’t. 

And maybe, Izzy thinks to herself, that’s kind of the point. We don’t have to have any kind of relationship, Lia said. 

Izzy’s feelings haven’t changed at all, but if kisses and I-love-yous are what separate friends from lovers, then maybe the lines were a little arbitrary to begin with. All she knows is that she’s so happy to be with each of them, and she wants to show them however she can.

Maybe this all makes a lot more sense to her than she thought it did.

“Kissing felt really nice,” she mumbles, pulling the blanket up over her legs.

Fran giggles and rests her head on her shoulder. Izzy takes a while before working up the courage to ask, “Is it okay for me to think of you two as… girlfriends? Just, as a word,” she stammers, tempering her words again.

Lia beams at her. “Absolutely!”

“You can be our girlfriend,” says Fran.

Izzy’s chest is starting to feel squeezy again. She laughs. “Girlfriends… that feels really nice to say.”

Lia strokes her head affectionately. “What do you wanna do now, honey?”

Izzy sinks into her friends’ – girlfriends’ – snuggles. Happiness comes over her like a warm bath and she says, “I just wanna… take it easy for now.”

Fran flips on their crummy old tv. “Yeah, sounds about right.”


Chapter 3


When Izzy wakes up the next morning, the room is still pitch black. Mind hazy, unsure why she’s awake, she realizes it’s because the bed is empty.

She bolts upright, squinting in the darkness. What’s going on? Is she alone? Panic clutches at her chest, but then she finally makes out a tall shape shifting by the bed.

“Oh, Izzy! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up.” Lia’s voice is quiet, gentle, and massages away the sudden spike of anxiety.

Izzy is still half asleep. “What’s going on?”

“Getting ready for work. Fran already left. I’ll be back around five. Fran gets home a bit later sometimes, but it depends.”

“Oh… okay.”

Moments after the words leave Izzy’s mouth, she realizes how forlorn they sounded. Before she can apologize, though, she hears Lia shifting beside her. A hand wraps around hers, providing gentle pressure. “Let’s have fun tonight, Izzy. Will you be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” Izzy assures her, trying to sound confident.

Lia’s hand gives hers a squeeze. “Alright.”

Then: “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

Izzy flusters, invisibly in the night. “O–of course! You don’t have to ask.”

Lia giggles, then plants a kiss on Izzy’s lips. She smells like perfume and tastes like sweet gloss.

“I left the keys on the table!” Lia calls, boots clomping against the thin wooden floors. “If you wanna go out, just make sure to be back before five so you can let us in!” Izzy sinks back beneath the covers and drifts off, feeling a little better.

When the sun has risen, and Izzy with it, she paces about in the empty attic, unsure of what to do with herself. Despite her girlfriends’ insistence that she make herself at home, it’s still hard for her to move around in this new place. It’s cozy, but it’s unfamiliar. Every shelf, table, and wall is teeming with history that isn’t hers.

Izzy wonders. Will she ever belong here too? Will she have a place among the piles of books and clothes and bargain-bin filmdiscs?

Of course not, she thinks, not letting herself get carried away. She’s adrift right now; regardless of her girlfriends’ – well – being her girlfriends, she can’t take advantage of their kindness. And maybe more to the point, she’s scared.

With no job, with no permanent home, and having only been a girl for two days, Izzy feels more vulnerable than ever. She needs safety. She needs something to latch onto. But if she makes that thing Fran and Lia, what’s to stop this from turning into the same situation she just got out of?

Izzy turns it over again and again in her head as she lies on the ratty sofa.

Whatever happens, she can’t let herself ruin this thing she has now. She loves and respects Fran and Lia too much.

So, today, she needs to make choices. She has to be big, again.

Today, she’s going to find a job.

Their district, Market Square, is a weird place. It’s beaten and run-down, and labyrinthine from years of unplanned expansion. There’s no shortage of tiny strange holes-in-the-wall, fried onion stands and homemade craft shops, if you can find them in the maze of broken brick and battered byways. And they all have one thing in common:

They’re not hiring.

Izzy is sitting awkwardly on an ancient stained bench, not thinking about how out-of-place she might look wearing a pink skirt with her old boy t-shirt. She’s clutching a handful of paper applications from some of the bigger stores that she was handed as consolation prizes – “we’ll keep it on file for when we’re ever hiring” – but she doesn’t have high hopes about them.

Somehow, she managed to fill herself with confidence about this outing, and somehow it lasted up until the twentieth or thirtieth place she tried. Now sitting here having lost count, she feels defeated.

Right now, Izzy is trying to hold back tears. She feels like a child. Of coursethis wasn’t going to happen today. She feels like she doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she’s angry at herself for actually expecting some kind of easy victory.

She’s been out for hours, now, and she realizes that if she doesn’t find her way back home soon, she won’t be back in time to let Fran and Lia in. So, with a huge sigh, she pulls herself together, rubs her eyes clear, and sets off.


It’s only four, she reasons. There’s still time in the day for at least one easy victory.

Izzy just barely has time to finish pouring her stir-fry into three neat little plates and set them on the wobbly coffee table – Fran and Lia’s apartment lacking a proper dining area – before she hears footsteps clomping up the stairwell. Feeling proud of herself, she practically skips over to the front door to unlock it and welcome her girlfriends.

“Hi,” she calls simply, poking her head out into the stairwell. Fran and Lia are together, and they hurry up the steps with a smile when they see Izzy.

Izzy hovers around them as they enter the apartment, like a child with a secret she’s just waiting for you to notice. The first thing Lia does is stoop to give her a tight hug, then Fran follows, and their jackets smell like the cool outside air. Izzy feels a little euphoric to see them, and a little embarrassed at how much more at ease she is just by their presence. Finally, as they’re hanging their coats up, Izzy can’t help it:

“So…! Um! Do you… smell anything good?”

Lia looks at her quizzically, then her eyes open wide. “Oh! Izzy! Did you cook for us again?”

Izzy smiles and nods. “Uh-huh… I tried my hand at making dinner this time. I think it came out really good!”

Forget how this morning went, Izzy is feeling a little bit confident right now. Cooking makes her feel powerful! At least this is one thing she seems to have a knack for. At least it’s one way she can pull her weight a bit. Her friends are shuffling nervously, looking guilty.

Izzy’s smile slips a little. “Um… I hope this was okay?”

Fran breaks the silence. “Oh, Izzy, I’m so sorry! We, uh, we ate on the way home already…”

Lia holds up a brown bag. “We brought you some! We were GOING to eat together,” she says, beaming a look at Fran.

Izzy’s smile slips a little more. “Oh,” she mumbles, and she can hear her voice creak, so she tries her best to add, “that’s okay! I’ll, um, I’ll just put it in the fridge!” She has her back turned, hastily collecting up the plates. “I hear it tastes even better cold, so, it’s okay!”

Once the plates are stuffed in the fridge, she patters around the kitchenette, trying to look busy, finding whatever spots she can to wipe down.

Izzy is trying so hard not to feel what she’s feeling, because she knows she’s an adult, because she resolved to be as strong as she could today. Because she doesn’t want Fran or Lia to know how she lets these things get to her.

Fran is wringing her hands behind her. “Izzy, I’m so sorry… we should have mentioned we were getting food, or like, called or something… it’s still so nice of you to do this, I appreciate it so much…”

“It’s okay!” Izzy says again, because it is okay. “I’m not upset or anything, I’m fine,” she says, even though it’s okay.

Lia is looming near her now as she realizes she’s just been standing with her back turned, staring at the spot she’s been scrubbing for a full minute. “Izzy,” Lia says, in what Izzy thinks must be the calmest, most reassuring voice she can muster, “do you want us to leave you alone for a bit? Do you wanna talk? Or do you wanna just do something else?”

Izzy isn’t good at pretending.

When they sit her down on the sofa, it takes her what feels like hours to be able to form words. When Izzy’s emotions are swirling like this, she stops being able to say anything. Putting together any kind of sentence feels like building a house of cards. Instead, she cries. For the first time since this huge mess began, she cries big, heaving sobs, and what comes streaming down her face are more than just today’s events.

For what seems like the hundredth time, Fran and Lia are on either side of her, seeming unsure of how much distance to keep. Fran is dabbing her face with a napkin, Lia is squeezing her hand and shushing her.

In shuddering breaths, Izzy spills about her difficult morning, her worries, her insecurity, her fear. About how she feels like she’s on a sinking ship with nothing to hold onto. About how weak and childish she feels.

She piles on each new thing expecting it to be the breaking point, and when Lia’s hand doesn’t leave hers, Fran doesn’t stop dabbing her tears away, she slowly wears herself down, runs out of tragedies until she’s sitting, quietly, snuffling, emptied out.

Once the tears stop and she feels like she’s said everything, the first thing she does – of course – because she’s Izzy – is apologize.

“I’m sorry,” she says, looking at the floor.

“Don’t be sorry,” Lia whispers, leaning in and nuzzling her cheek. “Izzy, it’s okay. It’s okay to feel like this.”

“You’re goin’ through a lot,” Fran says. “It’d be weird if you weren’t crying a puddle on the floor.”

Izzy gives a weak smile, but then shifts in place nervously. “But I feel like I need to be stronger,” she says. “There’s so many choices I need to make, and, and I need to be strong enough to make them, and I… I hate it. I, I just… I wish someone would decide everything for me.”

“Well,” Lia starts, standing up and stretching her tail out. “I don’t know about everything, but I can decide a couple things for you.”

Izzy looks up at her, not sure where this is going.

“First… it’s okay for you to be weak. Especially at a time like this. Izzy, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you going out and looking for a job today. But, it’ll probably take some time. And that’s okay.”

Izzy rubs her arms coyly, looking from Lia to Fran and back.

Lia continues. “I want you to take things at your own pace, ‘kay? Not ours or anyone else’s.”

Izzy drops her head a bit, but she’s smiling.

“And second… I want you to stay here. With us, your girlfriends, for as long as you want. I meant that the first time I said it, and I mean it now.”

When Izzy looks, Fran is giggling and nodding her head.

“And third,” Lia finishes, with a big flourish, “I want to do something fun together this weekend. Something nice for you, 'cause you’ve been such a sweetie. Fran? Any ideas?”

“Clothes shopping,” she answers immediately.

“Great idea,” says Lia. “Almost as if we actually already decided that this afternoon,” she giggles. “Izzy? Would you like that?”

Izzy is blushing and sinking into the couch cushions. “I mean… y–you don’t have to do that for me…”

Lia bends over and looks Izzy in the eyes. “It’s okay to say no. But you have my permission to be selfish, Izzy.”

But Lia surely already knows the answer, because Izzy can’t stop smiling. “I mean… if it’s okay with you… then… that would be really fun.”

Lia ruffles Izzy’s hair up. “Good girl.” She lingers with her fingers in Izzy’s hair before asking, in a more quiet, gentle tone, “Did that make things a little clearer for you?”

Izzy nods her head. Maybe when she said she wished someone would tell her what to do, she didn’t realize how serious she was being.

All it really took was someone laying it out for her, and things seem a little more straightforward. She feels a little more confident.

Izzy is good at doing what she’s told. And maybe that’s an okay kind of person to be.

Later that night, Fran pigs out on Izzy’s cold noodles and begs her to cook more often.

Before Izzy realizes it, she’s spent a week together with her girlfriends. After that first day on her own, she takes things a little more easy, in accordance with Lia’s orders. She fills out the applications she dragged home with her, but decides to wait a little while to send them in. Instead, she spends her time experimenting more with cooking, tidying up the apartment, and quietly practicing her voice, when nobody’s around.

And in just a little time, she does find her place among the junk and clothes and cobwebs. She gets used to the leaky faucets, the bathroom doorknob that if you jiggle it the wrong way it just falls out, the three separate blankets and six jackets that are always strewn messily across the bed. She gets used to searching through Lia’s big shirts to wear, gets used to Lia’s little assurances and constant friendly hand touches, gets used to Fran’s thunderous howling laughter at the terrible reality TV shows they watch late at night (gets used to the terrible reality TV shows, and maybe laughs a bit too – just a bit). She gets used to kissing the people she loves, here and there, until she stops noticing herself doing it. She kisses them before work, when they get home, before bed. She kisses Fran on the sofa, kisses Lia while she cooks.

In a word, she starts feeling safe here in her new home.

And then, before she knows it, a whole week has passed, and the weekend comes around again, and this time, when the sun rises, she wakes up in a bed that’s full and alive and warm.

Izzy finds herself snuggling Fran again, although this time she’s wrapped around Fran’s head with her arms, and this time it’s Fran’s face buried in…

…what Izzy suddenly realizes she can start calling her boobs, even if they are still flat as a board. She smiles happily to herself. It’s cute when the tables are turned like this.

She draws back a little to study Fran’s sleeping face. She looks like an angel when she’s asleep, contrary to her mischievous, prickly demeanor out of bed. Izzy takes a risk: she leans in… and plants a gentle kiss on Fran’s forehead.

Fran just keeps on looking serene.

Satisfied, Izzy turns over in bed to get a look at Lia

who she discovers is wide awake, watching her intently.

“Good morning, kitty,” Lia whispers, chuckling through her nose. Then, she wraps her arms and legs around Izzy and pulls her in close, squeezing her as tight as she can and not letting go.

The bed bounces with their movements and Izzy’s happily distressed giggling. She finally settles down, knowing she’s lost this fight, and squeaks, “I’m caught.”

Lia ruffles Izzy’s hair with one hand snaked around her head and nips playfully at her ear. “Fun day today, Izzy,” she says quietly. “Are you ready?”


Izzy’s yeah turns into a yelp as she feels Lia’s other hand curl around the base of her tail. She whimpers and wiggles, not managing to loosen herself from Lia’s grip.

Lia isn’t doing anything she hasn’t explicitly asked, in the week leading up to now, if Izzy was okay with. But Izzy still feels a rush of excitement and trepidation. Lia seems a little too good at the kind of touches that make her feel the best. Tight squeezes, gentle rubbing, little bites… and anything to do with her tail.

Izzy raises her eyes to look at Lia, who gives her a big, toothy grin.

Izzy feels herself flush. When Lia smiles like that, her sharp fangs are on full display. Izzy feels… something, about that, but she’s not sure what.

Amazingly, Fran hasn’t woken up through the bouncing and squeaking, and they shuffle out of bed as quietly as possible, leaving her to snooze a bit longer.

They filter into the main room of Francesca and Lia and Isabella’s terrible attic apartment, and Lia takes a seat at the sofa as Izzy starts rinsing out pans for breakfast.

Lia flips on the TV, but doesn’t really watch. Instead, she keeps her eyes on Izzy and says, “So, clothes shopping today. You’re sure you’re ready?”

“I’m definitely ready. I’ve been really looking forward to it.”

“That’s good,” says Lia. Izzy can hear her smiling.

“I might be a little nervous trying stuff on… but I’ll have you both with me, so I’m not worried. I’m sure it’ll be fun. Although…”


“I might miss wearing your hand-me-downs, hee hee.”


“Th–they’re nice, and big, and they smell good…”

Izzy pauses awkwardly after that, realizing how it might have sounded. She glances back at Lia nervously and half-expectantly.

“Oh, just like me,” says Lia, taking the ball and slam dunking it.

Izzy hides her flushing face behind a pan. “Y–yeah… I like those things a lot…”

“Which things? The shirts, or me?”


Lia makes a satisfied noise at that. “Same,” she says plainly. “I like you a lot too. And I like seeing you walking around in my shirts.” She winks.

Izzy squeaks. Is she being… flirted with?!

“By the way, I’m flirting with you,” Lia adds.

Izzy is just blushing furiously, opening her mouth to make words, but nothing will come out. She tries to keep scrubbing, but her hands won’t work right. Presently, there’s a hint of concern in Lia’s voice when she asks, “Is this okay? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything!”

“Y–yeah,” Izzy chirps, a little too quickly. “It’s, I, it, it’s nice! I get, a little, haha,” – fanning herself – “f–flustered, about it, just a little, um…”

Izzy peeks at Lia again, and she’s still sitting there, all mature and grown-up, looking at her with a gentle smile.

Izzy tries to regain her cool. Two can play at this game.

“A–anyway,” she says, “I’ve been having a lot of fun with this skirt, so I’m probably gonna get some more like it…” – Izzy makes a show of waggling her butt – “but what do you think?”

Izzy wiggles her tail suggestively and cranes her neck to see if Lia is looking, which she is, and Izzy smirks in astonishment that Lia actually seems almost flustered. Lia’s face is all screwed up for a moment, and she tries to say something. “I – I –”

Then Lia bursts out laughing. It’s loud and booming and Izzy realizes she’s never actually heard Lia let out a proper laugh before now. Izzy sheathes her butt, suddenly worried she looked silly.

Still huffing, Lia trumbles quickly over to her and pulls her into a tight hug. “Izzy!”


“Is this flirting. Were you flirting with me just now.”

Izzy is being squeezed so hard she’s almost lifting off the ground. Defiantly, she squeaks: “S–so what if I was?”

“Oh my god!” Lia squeals and spins her around. “I love it! I love it I love it I love it. Please flirt with me more.”

Izzy realizes now that she must not know how flirting works, because this wasn’t the reaction she expected at all. Still…

She sinks her face into Lia’s buff arms some more and gives her butt another playful wiggle. Lia responds by giggling harder. She plants kisses all down the side of Izzy’s neck, nuzzling her affectionately.

“I like to see you have confidence,” Lia says, letting her go and bumping heads.

“Ehehe… I still don’t know what to do with it when I get it.”

She said it as a joke, but Izzy realizes momentarily how literally true that statement is. Blushing, she turns her head. “Anyway, I’m Izzy! I’m confident and powerful! Rahh!”

Lia musses Izzy’s hair up for the umpteenth time and returns to the couch, grinning. “Definitely get some more,” she says.

“More what?”

“More cute miniskirts. Your butt looks super cute when you waggle in 'em.”

Izzy guesses this qualifies as a successful flirt.

Later, after Fran has woken up and the three of them have eaten breakfast, Lia heads off to take a shower while Fran and Izzy are left alone.

Izzy paces up and down the length of the apartment, as she does when she’s antsy and doesn’t want to admit it. Fran is laying on the sofa, relaxing, watching her.

“Izzy,” she starts, delicately, “are you sure you’re feelin’ okay? We don’t gotta go if you don’t wanna.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Izzy defends. “I’m just… I’m fine. I’m just…” She clears her throat. “I’m just feeling, a lot of, emotions?”

“What kinda emotions, Izzy?”

“When I figure that out,” she says, spinning around again, “I’ll let you know.”

“Izzy –”

A soft hand grabs hers and gently tugs her to a standstill. Izzy looks directly at Fran for the first time, and Fran gives her a warm smile. It’s the kind of expression most people wouldn’t assume the loud, intense-looking raccoon was capable of giving, but Izzy has seen it, here and there.

Izzy clears her throat again, then says, “It’s like… it just snuck up on me, y'know? B–being a girl. I–I’m a girl and I’m gonna go buy skirts and like… panties. And I’m she, I’m Isabella, and all that.”

“It sounds like an intense feeling,” Fran says, listening carefully.

Izzy nods, feeling herself calm down a little. “It’s a whole lot. I’m just a little antsy, I guess. It’s mostly happy feelings, relief, but also, like, uh… existential dread??”

Fran squeezes her hand and guides her to sit down next to her on the sofa. They sit quietly for a while, before Fran speaks. “Y'know, like… I’m cis, so like, I worry how much I can comfort you about this stuff is kinda limited, but… somehow or another, I’ve been surrounded by trans girls for years?”

Izzy’s ears twitch to attention and she turns her head a little at those words. Fran continues. “There’s Lia, obviously. I never knew her before she came out, but I’ve heard stories… and there’s this girl I’m good friends with from work.”

“I think you’ve mentioned her…”

Fran nods. “Yeah. She’s like, super, super cool and confident as hell – don’t tell her I said that – and I was actually the first person she came out to? She told me she just like, decided one day that something needed to change in her, and she tried on some clothes, and then I called her 'lady,’ and she was just like, shit, that was it. She finally felt like she got her foot out the door.”

Izzy finds herself smiling a little, which Fran takes as a sign that she should go on. “She was antsy as hell for weeks, donated all her old clothes, I saw her like scribbling on some old letters and stuff like that… she told me later that she was just like, destroying everything about who she used to be in her mind, and it was like a storm of emotions. The hardest part was letting herself do it, she said.”

“I think I get that a lot,” sighs Izzy, feeling relieved. “I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of that this week…”

“It can’t be easy,” Fran agrees. “But I know you’ll come out of this even stronger. And we’ll help you burn whatever’s left behind… promise.”

Izzy relaxes more and leans against Fran. “Thanks…”

“Whatever, cutie. Do you wanna talk about something else to get your mind off it?”

Izzy nods.

“Hmm…,” Fran hmms. “So… what did you and Lia get up to this morning?”

“O–oh, like, nothing,” Izzy lies, “just like, talking… uh…”

“So I didn’t hear you two loudly flirting when I woke up?”

Izzy hides her face in Fran’s shoulder. “M–maybe?”

“Oh no,” shouts Fran theatrically, “I can’t believe my girlfriends are flirting with each other behind my back~!”

“It wasn’t really fliiirting flirting…”

“Oh my god, Izzy, you have no idea,” Fran giggles, pushing Izzy to the side. “She keeps coming up to me and whining like, ’Fraaan, I wanna flirt with Izzy, would it be too much for me to say her butt is squeezable, help me flirt with her…’”

“W–what, no way…”

“She’s sooo into you, she wants to kiss you all over,” teases Fran as Izzy sinks into the couch, blushing. “You have no idea.”

Izzy stands straight up and takes a step back, half laughing, half balking. “Come on…”

“Izzy!” – Fran is sliding off the couch, reaching towards Izzy dramatically as if she’s drowning – “Help! We like you so much but you won’t believe us! Heeeelp!”

Izzy finally breaks into full-on laughter as she reaches for Fran’s outstretched hand. “Okay, okay, I –”

Fran seizes the opportunity to yank Izzy down on top of her, and they sprawl across the floor, cackling and half-snuggling.

A bit later, when they’ve both settled down, Izzy turns her attention back to getting ready.

“Oh,” says Fran, “it’s like super cold out today so you’ll wanna bring a coat.”

Izzy is blindsided for a moment. “Oh no,” she mutters. “I knew I forgot something… my coat is still on the rack back at my ex boyfriend’s.”

“That’s fine, we’ve probably got an extra in the bedroom somewhere?”

“I’ll go check,” Izzy calls, making her way inside the clothes cavern.

Their bedroom really is a mess. It’s the only part of the apartment Izzy hasn’t gotten around to tidying up, and for good reason – there’s actually not a single closet anywhere in their little attic space, and so their clothes end up hung from the rafters, scattered about the floor of their bedroom, piled up on top of the bed and slept on. Izzy supposes she could fold them up neatly and tuck them in a corner somewhere, but weirdly, she finds the chaos of the bedroom a little charming.

It feels lived in; the piles of clothes and books and junk around her remind Izzy of her girlfriends’ presence even as she wakes up alone five days a week.

Maybe Izzy’s just too sentimental about things like this, she thinks, as she begins sifting through the clothes piles, looking for a coat.

Finally spotting one far in the corner, she happily picks it up. It’s one of Lia’s, so it’ll definitely fit. It’s an old black and white jersey jacket. Izzy smiles as she imagines Lia wearing it.

She doesn’t say it often, but her girlfriends are just… so cute.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, Izzy notices something on the floor.

At first she thought it was a pink necklace or a belt, but when she scoops it up from where it had been hidden beneath the jacket, it finally occurs to her that what she’s looking at is…

“A collar?” Izzy mumbles out loud.

“Oh, that thing,” says Fran from the doorway, causing Izzy to jump just about a foot in the air.

She fumbles with the collar like a hot potato, trying not to drop it while she turns around to see Fran chuckling.

“Relax, kitty, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Fran chortles, approaching her. “I was wondering where this got to, actually…”


“What,” says Fran, plucking the collar from Izzy’s hands, “haven’t you ever had pets before?” She bats her eyelashes innocently, holding the collar up to her own neck.


Fran laughs even harder, patting Izzy on the shoulder. “Lia bought me this a couple months ago cuz she thought I’d be into it, and I gotta admit it’s cute, but not really my thing… There’s a leash around here somewhere too.”

Izzy is just standing, face like a boiled lobster. Fran suddenly looks remorseful as she adds, “Sorry, maybe that was TMI? We tend to be an open book about this stuff but…”

“N–no, it’s fine,” Izzy finally stammers. “It’s just, I, w–waah…”

Izzy’s mind is swimming with images. Fran wearing a collar, Lia holding a leash, saying “good girl~” the way she says it to Izzy – then, suddenly, Izzy wearing a collar, sitting at her girlfriends’ side, getting pet, and this is confusing, this is confusing, th–this is confusing –

“You okay, Izzy?” asks Fran, snapping Izzy out of her reverie.

“I’m just fine! It’s a cute collar!”

Fran smiles sideways and wags her tail. She leans in a little too close and says, “Yeah, isn’t it? You can have it if you want.”

Izzy holds her hands up, trying to look humble. “Oh, no, I couldn’t…”

“Really, we don’t use it or anything. But if you want…~”

Izzy takes a closer look at the collar Fran is holding out. It’s cute, really. It’s pink, and it looks like it’s made of faux leather, with a buckle. Squinting in the dim light, Izzy realizes there’s even a little heart-shaped tag dangling off it. It’s even a little fluffy on the inside, like it’d be really comfy to wear.

Suddenly, Izzy feels the familiar sensation of Fran’s lips on her cheek. Fran pulls away and tosses the collar on the bed. “Okay, okay, enough teasing. I think I hear Lia anyway.”

Mentally, Izzy sweeps up certain confusing thoughts to be analyzed later. For now, she breathes a sigh of relief as she pulls on Lia’s big jacket.

She’s learning a lot of things about her girlfriends even still, and it’s a little bit amazing and a lot overwhelming. But maybe not, she thinks, in a bad way.

Lia and Fran know a department store with a cheap selection, and they lead the way at a brisk pace through the biting wind with Izzy trailing behind.

It’s the first time they’ve gone out properly – at least since Izzy came out, since they became girlfriends, somehow. It’s late in the afternoon, and the skies are clouded over. Izzy has her hands in the pockets of Lia’s jacket.

She always ends up in the back when she’s walking in a group. For whatever reason, it makes her a little more comfortable to follow than to lead, or even walk side-by-side. As she thinks this, she realizes that, if her life were some kind of story, someone would probably use that as a heavy-handed metaphor.

Well, it’d be true, anyway. Izzy likes to be led. She likes guidance, safety, feeling like she’s small. But she feels like that’s a little naive, that you can’t really get that for free, not in real life. People’s patience is finite; she knows from her last relationship that she’ll never really feel secure without a little bit of her own power.

She watches Fran and Lia, practically walking sideways as they chat and laugh. She wonders where each of them get their confidence, and what weak spots the other covers up. She’s known them long enough to get the sense that they rely on each other a lot, but part of her still thinks she’s not all the way “in” on it.

At the very least, Izzy feels a lot better knowing that both of her girlfriends have each other, too. Even if she’s a little weaker than them, three feels like a strong number to her.

It almost sounds awful, thinking about it so pragmatically. And yet, it’s comforting. The love she feels for them is so real. The love they feel for each other is so real. Wouldn’t they all be stronger?

“Lost in thought, kitty?” asks Lia, who Izzy realizes has been walking backwards to face her for some time.

“O–oh, yeah,” Izzy mumbles. (Has Lia been calling her “kitty” a lot lately?)

Lia grins and holds out her hand. “In case you wander off,” she jokes.

Izzy gives her a petulant face, but takes the hand gladly.

Lia’s hands are even bigger than hers, a little less slender and a little more rough. Outside of Market Square, and even within, people like to joke about hands like hers, make them into some kind of weapon. But all Izzy feels in Lia’s grip is strength, sincerity, and the biting cold, wow are Lia’s hands cold.

Then, a warmer grip tightens around Izzy’s other hand, and Fran gives her a playful head bump on the shoulder, and they walk together, side-by-side. But like this, Izzy doesn’t feel quite as nervous.

Maybe this is also a metaphor…? Izzy shakes her head. She should stop thinking like this, probably.

One of the few larger warehouses left in Market Square, the 3rd Street Department Store is actually a flea market more than a store, with a sprawling open plan, hundreds of merchants, a low ceiling, and a termite problem. But with a massive selection of clothes, new and used, it’s the hottest place to buy for that real “scavenged” look that’s popular in this district.

What Izzy had anticipated, but not fully enough, was the embarrassment and trepidation she would feel when it came to actually picking out clothes. She walks up and down rows and rows, in and out of several shops, for almost half an hour, without picking up a single thing, and it’s not because nothing’s caught her eye.

Instead, every time something does, she hesitates. It’s not like scrounging up a shirt from their bedroom floor. If she picks something out, it’s… a statement. It’s saying – here I am. I’m a girl, and these are the thigh highs I’m buying. She can pick out something as cute as she wants, as pretty as she wants, she can buy these things that have been such mythical, religious objects to her for so long, but doing that is a statement that she wantsthose things – and that’s so hard, just so hard.

Fran and Lia, bless their souls, are remarkably patient, following Izzy around as she works her way through her ongoing internal therapy session.

Eventually, when she’s lost track of how much time has passed or where she even is, she realizes she’s found herself in a quiet aisle. On either side of her are long racks of clothes, and to the ends of the aisle – no one. No one but Fran and Lia.

She’s looking at a pretty cute skirt.

This one’s another miniskirt, thin, pleated, black, dotted with candy-colored flowers. It’s got it all, and it’s in her size.

Izzy takes a breath, reaches a hand out, and takes it off the rack. And Lia and Fran break out in giddy applause.

After that, Izzy’s bolstered. She’s sinned once – what’s a few more times? She moves through the clothes department slowly, but methodically. To her collection she adds a plain, girly-cut black tee, a bright pink hoodie (I never realized the ones for girls looked so much cuter…), a pair of cheap pink tennis shoes, black and pink striped thigh highs (this is SUCH a score…), a pack of panties (when nobody was looking), a sports bra…

And suddenly, she’s got a whole outfit, and it’s hers. Pink and black, soft and nice. Izzy feels euphoric. She’s fucking high right now. She roves the aisles again and again, being careful not to pick out too much, but every item she adds is like a long-lost friend. Fran and Lia help her look, too. Lia finds a cute pink beanie Izzy falls in love with; Fran grins mischievously and holds out a pair of frilly, lacy black panties that Izzy pushes away (but then sneaks into her bag when she thinks Fran’s not watching).

The only thing that ends Izzy’s spree is the crackly intercom announcement that the store will close soon, and she realizes it’s almost nine PM. She pays for everything, and outside it’s raining, but Izzy doesn’t care. She sprints home in the rain, Fran and Lia flagging behind. Izzy doesn’t care – she’s strong, she’s confident, she’s powerful, she’s a girl, she’s invincible, she’s won.

A cat, a dog, and a raccoon, soaking wet and freezing, pile into their awful attic apartment at a quarter past nine, laughing and carrying shopping bags.

Izzy jogs a lap around the living room, still feeling high, and Fran laughs. “Izzy! I’ve never seen you this energetic before!”

“I just can’t believe I finally did it,” Izzy says, opening a bag and sticking her head in. “It feels like a step. I took a step. And it all looks so cute! I’m cute! I want to wear it.”

“Yes, yes,” chuckles Lia, appearing behind her. “First, though, you need to take a shower before you get pneumonia. We’ll take turns.”

“Yeah,” says Izzy, nodding fervently. That sounds good. She wants everything to feel perfect when she puts her stuff on.

When she puts it on…

“Y–you two should go first, though,” Izzy adds. “That way I can have the bathroom… for… y'know…”

Fran lowers her eyes and smiles. “Sounds good.” Lia pats her on the head, and they both leave for the shower together.

When they’ve had their turn, Izzy enters the bathroom with a bag of clothes, heart pounding. She showers quickly, just long enough to warm up, fluff her hair back up, and smell nice and fresh. When she’s done, the mirror’s fogged up, but she’s almost happy – she’ll feel less self conscious.

Panties feel weird.

They hug her a lot more than the boxer-briefs she’d been wearing for years, but not in an altogether bad way. It’s plain that they weren’t necessarily meant to accommodate, well, – but the point is, it’s nice. And they’re so cute.

Her thigh highs feel wonderful, her skirt feels airy. Her t-shirt feels so, so soft – why don’t they make clothes for men this soft? – and her hoodie feels warm and snug and looks killer.

She’s wearing the outfit she picked out earlier, and she’s proud of her color coordination, because for the first time in her life, Izzy actually looks stylish. Decked out in pink and black, nobody would dare mistake her for someone with masculine aspirations.


Fran just sits there, looking like she won the lottery. But Lia is screaming, dancing around Izzy. “Oh my god, oh my God, it looks so good on you! Cutie!!”

Lia hugs Izzy so tight she almost dies, and the hug turns into Lia lifting her in the air and spinning her around. “I’m so proud of you! My girl! My daughter!”

Fran is trying to conceal a blush, trying to keep it cool. “Fuck, I think I’m in love,” she breathes, looking on through slightly parted fingers.

“C–c'mon,” Izzy starts, finding her feet back on the ground and almost falling over from dizziness, “I’m not that cute…”

She regains her footing. And then she says, “Actually, I am. I’m so cute.”

Lia squeals again and hugs Izzy’s head, nuzzling the fluffy hair between her ears. “I love this darling,” she coos. Izzy giggles, but then finds hands on her cheeks, lifting her face up, and before she knows it Lia’s lips are on hers, and this kiss is passionate, like Lia’s trying so hard to communicate something words can’t. Izzy squeaks, body arcing against Lia’s, and Izzy lets her tongue in as Lia steps forward just a tiny bit, guiding her back against the wall.

Izzy realizes all of a sudden that, although she’s kissed her girlfriends dozens of times over the past week, they haven’t done anything like thissince that night on the bed. And god, does she want it. Her body turns to putty as Lia’s fingers curl into the hair on the back of her head. She takes in a few sharp breaths, but no matter how much she breathes out, she feels like she’s fuller and fuller with something each time. Lia takes Izzy’s lower lip between hers and nibbles, then bites, drawing a weak little noise from the back of Izzy’s throat.

Finally, Lia pulls back, looking halfway undone, redder in the face than Izzy’s seen her. “You’re just so cute,” Lia breathes, but then she looks a little remorseful and suddenly asks, “A–are you okay?”

“I’m, fine,” says Izzy, who can do nothing but smile. “I keep telling you you don’t have to ask to kiss me…”

Lia looks relieved. “Right…”

Then Izzy winces, face heating up. She turns her head to the side and tries to sidle out from between Lia and the wall.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“Yeah, fine, fine,” Izzy says, turning around to try and inconspicuously adjust her erection.

“Oh… S–sorry,” says Lia, but Izzy can hear her smiling.

Izzy can’t help but laugh. “I–it’s just, the panties, they’re kinda tight, haha…”

“Ugh, try it with skinny jeans, too,” Lia chuckles, prompting Izzy’s eyes to dart down before she realizes what she’s doing.

“Oh my God,” moans Fran from the sofa, “I can’t believe my girlfriends are over there getting boners without me!”

That was the last straw. Izzy and Lia start heaving laughs for real now. Izzy can’t believe how many different emotions she’s feeling at once, so she just settles on laughter.

When the fits die down, everybody’s suddenly quiet, until Fran gets up from the couch to whisper something in Lia’s ear. Whatever she was asked, Lia nods furiously, and the two of them turn to Izzy.

“Hey, Izzy?” Fran starts.


Fran twiddles her thumbs, looking innocent. “We wanna ask you something, but like, if it makes you uncomfortable, you can totally say no, alright? No pressure or anything.”

“What is it?” Izzy is curious now.

Fran can’t seem to say it, so Lia picks up for her. “Izzy, would you want to… fool around with us, tonight?”

Izzy’s eyes go wide. “You mean, like…?”

Fran nods intensely. Lia says, “Yeah. But only if you’re okay with it.”

Izzy balks, blushing, not sure what to say (if only because she knows exactly what she wants to say). Smiling nervously, she says, “A–are youokay with that? I wouldn’t wanna… I wouldn’t wanna get in the way, or anything, and like, I–I don’t know if I’m very good at, anything, um, I…”

“I wanna focus on you,” blurts Fran, looking serious.

Lia has half her face covered in one hand, blushing. “Uh, y–yeah, me too…”

“Again, like, seriously, no pressure. We could just… explore, y'know?”

Izzy’s heart is threatening to pound out of this dimension. To say nothing of her – well.

“I’d… that would… I want that,” she finally says, looking just slightly to the left of where her girlfriends are standing.

Lia lights up immediately. Fran starts grinning.

Once again, they take Izzy’s hand and guide her into the bedroom.

Izzy tumbles backwards onto the bed, and before she can figure out why, Fran climbs on top of her, looking like she’s ready for mischief. She lowers her lids and smiles down at Izzy, then licks her lips and leans in.

It’s not Izzy’s lips that Fran kisses first, but her cheek. Then comes another kiss, a little lower, then one on her jaw. “Izzy,” Fran speaks into her neck, in a voice that sounds uncharacteristically pleading, almost needy, “you really, really, really are so pretty…”

Fran’s body is pressed flush against Izzy’s, and she’d have a hard time wiggling free even if she wanted – but Fran knows that, they all know by now how much Izzy loves to be squeezed, caught, pinned like this…

Only this time, Izzy feels… a little more acutely aware of everything that’s touching her right now. The context of what they’re in here to do makes Izzy pay extra close attention to the feel of Fran’s body on top of hers, as Fran leaves more and more kisses in the crook of her neck.

Fran nibbles a little bit on the curve of Izzy’s neck, and she can’t help but make a noise, raising her arms to clutch at the back of Fran’s tank top. The tighter they’re pressed together, the more intimately Izzy can feel Fran’s breasts pressing up against her chest, and it’s so warm and nice. Fran’s whole body is soft and chubby, and Izzy feels so snug, clinging to her helplessly.


There’s no hiding Izzy’s erection anymore. It’s managed to slip out of her panties, tenting her skirt – leaving a tiny wet patch. Izzy realizes all at once that she hasn’t… relieved herself… since she left her ex’s house, and she has a sneaking suspicion that neither have Fran or Lia.

Izzy feels embarrassed, but she’s – surprisingly to her – not as anxious as she thought she should be. After all, she’s pretty inexperienced. And she’s never done anything with girls before. And yet… maybe it’s a sign of how much she trusts her girlfriends, that she feels prepared for whatever ends up happening.

Fran pulls back, as if to say she’s had her fill for now, and rolls off Izzy, letting her sit up. She tries to puff out her skirt a bit to make her erection less obvious, but there’s really no point by now.

Izzy wonders where Lia is, before realizing she’s sat right behind her, and then Lia’s hands close around her and pull her backwards so that Lia can wrap herself around the seated girl.

“Okay, kitty,” Lia coos, “let’s talk.” Fran scoots in a little closer, as if they’re all about to have an impromptu meeting.


“Yeah, you can tell us what you want,” says Fran. “We’ll do our best not to do anything you don’t like, so you should tell us like, what you’re comfortable with, what you wanna do and stuff.”

Izzy’s face is on fire thinking about it. She’s really glad they’re so careful, but now she’s coming up on the same barrier as earlier – having the desires is one thing, but actually saying them out loud…

“I, I don’t know where to start, haha,” Izzy mumbles.

“That’s okay,” says Lia. “How about we start with… what are you comfortable with us seeing? Or touching? Stuff like that.”

Izzy can’t help but smile – a nervous smile, a “oh my god, help me” smile. Her heart’s running a marathon. “W–well… I’m… I trust you, s–so… I don’t mind you seeing my body… o–or touching me… um… a–anywhere…”

Lia squeezes her tighter. “Hee hee, I’m flattered to hear that. And same for both of us, too.”

Fran nods. “Yeah, you can…” – she says the next word in an exaggerated breathy voice – “explore all you want, if you like.”

Explore… Izzy sighs. That’s a good word. It sounds safe.

“Okay, next question,” says Lia. “What do you wanna do right now? Anything that feels comfortable to you, or like, anything that might… turn you on~?”


“Me and Lia are really open to whatever, so we’ll probably be into it. You can say whatever’s on your mind.”

What might make her feel more comfortable, or turn her on…

Oh, no. Something does flash in Izzy’s mind, briefly, but once the idea’s planted she can’t shake it, it’s the only thing she can think about, but she can’t possibly – she can’t possibly –

But when Izzy thinks about everything she’s done today, how confident she was in her new clothes, how she flirted with Lia, bonded with Fran… maybe she can cap the day off and voice this tiny, weird thing. Just move her lips, make the sound happen –


Fran leans in and Lia hovers over her shoulder, expectantly.

“The… the, um…”

What she’s about to say might open the floodgate to a lot of desires she’s kept bottled up for a long time, but, but

“The, um, the collar…”

Izzy hides her face in her hands. “The collar?” asks Lia, sounding slightly confused, but Fran is beaming. Perhaps catching the drift from Fran, Lia gasps. “The collar! OH!”

Fran claps and runs her mouth like a motorboat. “Oh my god, she accidentally found the collar earlier and I kind of teased her with it but I had no idea she might actually like really want to, wear it, oh my god, OH my god I’m gonna die Izzy I love you –”

Lia squeezes Izzy protectively. “Well, calm down, let’s not spook her! Izzy, do you wanna wear the cute collar…?”

Izzy still hasn’t peeled her hands from her face, but she nods.

Lia giggles. “Of course that’s A-OK. Fran? Do you know where that thing –”

Fran holds it up, smirking. “It’s literally right here.” Izzy peeks out from behind her hands in time to see Fran’s gaze soften a bit, and she says, in a more gentle tone, “Okay, babe… shall I help put it on you?”

Adrenaline is running in circuits up and down Izzy’s chest, her heart’s caught in her throat… she feels so embarrassed, but it feels good. Unable to say a word, she sits up straight, leaning towards Fran.

Fran presses a soft kiss to Izzy’s cheek in reassurance. Then, she brings the collar to Izzy’s neck, looping it around. “Lia? Would you do the honor?”

“Of course,” answers Lia, taking the ends and carefully fastening the buckle. Izzy feels the soft inner fabric tighten around her neck, just enough to be snug, but not squeeze. “Does that feel okay?” Lia asks.



It feels really nice. Izzy wasn’t sure what to expect, but it feels weirdly snug and secure, and to think that her girlfriends put it on her…

“So, um,” says Fran, leaning in close, “is there any particular reason you wanted to wear this? Or just a fashion thing?”

Izzy wiggles. Now comes the part where she really, truly has to say what she wants… the things she likes.

“I, um… I like… Or, I mean, I would want… um…”

Fran wags her tail, listening intently.

“I guess I’ve always had this f–fantasy of like… being kind of… submissive… b–but like, not like in a, like, a BDSM way, I mean, I mean, l–like…”

Lia slips a hand around Izzy’s for comfort.

“More like… a pet? Um, it makes me really happy to be sort of, t–taken care of… or told what to do… or… is that weird to say? I don’t mean like, a PET pet, but, um, um, actually, I do?”

She’s suddenly worried this was a bad idea. Like maybe her new honesty policy should only go so far. Saying these things out loud makes her realize maybe they’re stranger than she thought, harder to articulate than she thought, but –

But Fran can’t take any more. She jumps on Izzy, squeezing her tight. “Oh my god, Izzy!”

“Th–this is so cute and good,” says Lia, sounding like she’s about to shatter into a million pieces.

“I guess I’m saying, you can, treat me, like a, pet, if you want to…”

“First of all, not weird at all,” says Lia. “Second of all…”

Lia’s hand tilts Izzy’s head to the side to let her plant a sweet, lingering kiss on her kitty’s lips.

When Lia pulls back, she asks in a low voice, “Does this mean you’d like us to take the lead…?”

Izzy nods. “You can… you can do whatever you want… I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable… s–so…”

Izzy feels like she’s melting. Could she really get away with this? It’s the kind of thing she’d always, always wanted to do, but she – she’s never felt like she was allowed to be this vulnerable, this open about her wants…

“Well,” says Lia, “what I really want right now is to see this cute kitty get off.”

Izzy’s dick twitches, and her heart nearly skips a beat. Lia continues: “I’m gonna take off your hoodie… is that okay?”

Izzy nods, sitting back up. She doesn’t say a word as Lia’s fingers close around the flaps of her hoodie and slide it off her. And even though it was the outermost layer of her outfit, she still feels a lot more exposed. Now with only a thin layer of fabric separating them, Lia pulls Izzy back into her arms again, nestling her in her lap. Next, Fran scoots in much closer, sitting on her knees between Izzy’s legs. As Lia leans back a little and Fran’s presence keeps her thighs slightly parted, Izzy realizes her dick is totally on display, save for the skirt draped over it.

Vulnerable. That’s how she feels right now. But she knows she’s safe – and this is a combination of feelings she’s definitely never felt before. It’s like the slow ascent to the top of a roller coaster, only softer, warmer, and you can get off whenever you want.

Izzy jumps a bit when Lia’s fingers brush the sides of her abdomen, then settle with her hands pressed flat against her, holding her. Then they drift, running over Izzy’s tummy, falling down her sides – exploring, by touch, the shape of her.

“Is this okay?” asks Lia, with her head nestled in the crook of Izzy’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Izzy says, surprised at the breathiness in her own voice.

In the course of the gentle massaging, the hem of Izzy’s T-shirt has lifted slightly, revealing a slice of her midriff, and Lia takes the opportunity to slide her fingers over it, running them underneath the shirt, and for the first time skin is meeting skin, and Izzy can’t help but shudder from the sensation of Lia’s cool fingertips.

Seemingly unable to bear sitting and watching any longer, Fran gets up on her knees and makes a beeline for Izzy’s lips. She finally takes her chance to kiss Izzy on the lips, and Izzy remembers very suddenly the difference between Lia kisses and Fran kisses. Fran’s lips are softer, and her tongue is hungrier, more quick to probe, like she can’t stand to leave an inch of Izzy’s mouth unexplored. Can you top someone with your tongue?

Izzy squeaks helplessly while Lia’s hands get more adventurous, slipping fully underneath Izzy’s shirt and running up her naked stomach. “God, your belly’s so soft,” giggles Lia, clearly enjoying herself. Even if Izzy wanted to respond, she couldn’t, not with her mouth occupied like this. She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling tears welling and willing them to go down – she’s not sad, she’s so elated that her body doesn’t know what to do with itself.

Lia begins to touch a little higher, then a little higher, dragging Izzy’s shirt up with her hands, exposing her whole belly. And then –


Lia’s hands brush over Izzy’s tender nipples. “Is this okay?” Lia whispers, and Fran allows their lips to part long enough for Izzy to whimper some sort of affirmative noise before plunging back in.

Lia’s fingertips massage the whole area of Izzy’s flat little boobs, and either because of how much foreplay they’ve had or the short amount of time Izzy’s been on E, she shivers a tiny bit every time Lia’s palms run across her nipples.

She’s having her boobs played with, and she’s so happy.

Meanwhile, Fran seems to have graduated from letting her tongue do the work. Without ever fully withdrawing her lips, she cups Izzy’s jaw in one hand, and presses her thumb between Izzy’s lips, parting them slightly, playing with them. Then her finger is inside, sliding in, meeting Izzy’s tongue, pulling her mouth open a little. Izzy’s not sure what you would call this, but she’s so into it.

Now Fran has her middle and ring fingers in her mouth, having finally pulled out of their kiss, and Izzy can’t help but suck on them. Izzy sighs and whines, unable to speak properly; she shuts her eyes and lets the fingers do whatever loving they want to.

And then, Lia finally takes Izzy’s nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, pinching them gently, and Izzy arches with a pathetic noise, and a rivulet of drool runs down her chin because she can’t close her mouth.

Now Lia is focusing on Izzy’s nipples for real, and she won’t let up. She brushes her fingertips across them, squeezes them between two knuckles, presses into them with her thumbs. And it feels so, so, so good. Izzy has played with her nipples before, but having another person do it is something completely different. A fluttering feeling starts to pool in her belly, like her body’s going haywire. And Izzy starts to purr.

But this time, she’s too blissed out to stop. It’s embarrassing, but Izzy doesn’t care; she just lets it happen. She lets it through; she lets the drool run down her chin; she lets the happy squeaks leave her; she lets her cock twitch and ache and paint an ever-growing patch of pre on her pretty little skirt. She lets her body do what it wants.

“God, she’s so precious,” whines Fran, sounding like she’s barely holding it together. “Izzy…”

Fran pulls her fingers from Izzy’s mouth and gives her a serious look, and Izzy suddenly realizes how flushed Fran’s face is.

“Izzy, I wanna… I wanna touch you,” she whispers, motioning. This time Izzy’s heart does skip a beat, but all she does is nod.

Lia squeezes her. “You’re such a good girl, Izzy.”

Fran scoots back a little, falling back down on her butt to get a better position. Then, with both hands, she pulls Izzy by the legs so that she falls a little, the angle she’s sitting at is a little less sharp – the tent in her skirt is a little more exposed.

For good measure, Fran presses Izzy’s thighs a little farther apart, clearly savoring what she was about to get up to. Izzy whimpers; she’s so, so painfully hard, her body wants this so bad.

Fran presses one tentative finger to the tip of Izzy’s cock, still through her skirt, and Izzy almost jumps at the sensation. When Fran pulls it back, a long trail of pre comes with it.

“God, even I don’t get this wet,” teases Fran. “So cute…”

This is it…

Izzy can’t take any more. She wants to be touched, she wants relief. Her cock bounces beneath her skirt from how much she’s twitching. She wiggles in Lia’s arms, restless.

“P–please touch me,” she says, sounding desperate.

Fran doesn’t need to be told twice. She flashes Izzy a grin, and then, finally, she lifts up Izzy’s skirt, revealing her at last to the open air.

“Oh my god,” says Fran, “are these…?”

Izzy suddenly remembers that the panties she’s wearing are the frilly, lacy pair Fran teased her with at the store – the ones she sneakily stuffed in her bag. She hadn’t expected anyone to actually see them tonight.

Izzy’s cock is standing free, still dripping pre, but her balls are tucked snugly inside her frilly panties.

Fran can only hide her face in her hands and groan. “So fucking cute, this is impossible…”

Lia is giggling and squeezing Izzy as tight as she can. “Oh, you precious girl,” she coos, but Izzy is too far gone. She wants to be touched, and all she can do is sit there. She raises her arms to hang on to Lia’s neck behind her. She curls her toes; she feels like she’s about to overheat and explode.

It’s Lia who takes the first go.

Maybe seeing how desperate Izzy is, Lia reaches around and grabs hold of Izzy’s cock, taking it firmly in her fist. Izzy’s hips buck immediately, and she lets out a heavy sigh at the sudden relief.

“Caught you,” whispers Lia in her ear.

And Izzy really is caught. At first, Lia doesn’t pump her or anything; she just grips her tight, and that makes Izzy feel so vulnerable. Lia can probably feel her twitching in her fist.

Izzy’s hips buckle; her body’s begging for it so bad that she’s almost trying to fuck Lia’s fist, and Lia seems pleased with that. So, finally, her grip loosens, and she starts to pump for real.

Izzy heaves a sigh. It’s gentle, like Lia is with everything. Her fingers glide up and down Izzy’s girly little cock, pulling down her skin and replacing it, softly bumping her balls – Izzy can feel everything, and so intensely.

“Does kitty like this?” asks Lia, with her chin nestled in the crook of Izzy’s shoulder.

“Yeees…,” Izzy moans. The concept of shame has left the building; there’s no room for it in here, in the safety of Fran, Lia, and Izzy’s bedroom.

Izzy shuts her eyes and just focuses on the feelings. Wrapped up in Lia’s tight embrace, exposed and caught and small in such a good way. She can hear Lia’s breath in her ear, and it’s calm, but there’s this hint in it – it’s a little ragged, a little heavy. Izzy remembers that she’s not the only one being pleasured here; her girlfriends want this too, they want to touch her and love her and watch her unravel and cum, and she can feel it. She can feel it in their touch, see it on their faces, hear it in their voice. Izzy is wanted, she’s attractive, she’s hot and Fran and Lia are getting off on this too.

With that realization, Izzy’s chest is just – so – tight. She feels so warm all over. And she’s close.

God, she’s so close. Her hips are lifting off the bed over and over in rhythm with Lia’s pumps – but then, suddenly, Lia’s hand is gone, and Izzy wants to yell, “nooooo,” but stops herself just short.

Lia hmms. Then she says, “Fran, why don’t you take over.”

Fran’s face lights up, and she gladly accepts the pumping duty, wrapping her soft chubby fingers around Izzy instead, and Izzy feels so much relief, she doesn’t want to stop being touched, she just wants –

Lia’s hands are back up Izzy’s shirt, this time beelining straight for her nipples, and now she’s playing with Izzy’s little nubs again, and if Izzy thought she was desperate before, now she’s going wild.

Izzy’s mind is oddly blank. Everything is falling away, receding into the distance. There’s just her, and the heartbreaking waves of warmth squeezing at her chest, and the touches of her precious girlfriends guiding her through it.

“A–aaah,” Izzy moans, “th–this is so good, I’m so close, I’m so close…!”

Perhaps hearing that, Fran seems to think for a few seconds, then quits pumping. Instead, she shifts quickly onto her elbows and – oh my God, is she going to –

Fran stops just short of taking Izzy into her mouth before she looks up at her, as if to double check.

“P–please,” Izzy begs.

That’s all Fran needs to hear.

It’s wet, and warm, and it’s just so much. Izzy is hanging on by a thread. Fran’s lips, Fran’s tongue, Lia’s fingers still tweaking and pinching and flicking her breasts – her breasts – her breasts –

“I’m, I’m, I’m gonna cum, F–Fran, aah, I’m coming, I’m coming –”

Izzy comes harder than she thinks she’s ever come, and she feels it in every place that skin is touching skin. The feeling reflects off of every corner of her body and reverberates in the back of her skull, and by the time she realizes the cute, bottomy wail she’s letting out it’s too late to stop it. Lia is holding her tight, as though Izzy might fly into space if she let go, and Fran is – Fran is taking her cum, and, oh my God, nobody has ever done that for Izzy before, and she’s wearing a kitty collar, and she has three bags of beautiful clothes, and she thinks she might just be the luckiest woman alive, and she is a woman, and she is alive.

When her legs stop kicking and her hips stop bucking and the waves die down, Izzy is left panting, like everything inside her just left her body. And then, finally, Fran lets her out of her mouth and swallows it.


It’s a bit hazy what happens next, but Izzy knows Lia helps her take off her precum-soaked skirt, and they all end up lying down, under the blanket together, and a lot of minutes pass of Izzy just panting, feeling like she could go to sleep or the moon.

When someone speaks, it’s Fran, and she says, “You did such a good job, Izzy.”

Lia makes a happy laugh. “Yeah, I’m so proud of you, kitty.”

Izzy feels confused. “But I didn’t do anything…”

Fran nuzzles Izzy’s cheek. “Um, no, you did a whole lot, babe.”

“You got so vulnerable, and you trusted us a lot, and that’s really good and strong,” says Lia.

Izzy doesn’t have the energy to argue, so she just believes them instead, and that feels so good. She’s really glad that her girlfriends are proud of her. She’s glad she did a good job. She likes to do a good job. Izzy likes to be a good girl.

She realizes dreamily that she’s still wearing her collar. Still drained of her inhibitions, she asks, quietly, “Is it okay if… I wear this collar all the time?”

Lia sits up straight for a moment to study Izzy’s face for a bit. Then she smiles and lays back down, wrapping her arm around the kitty.

“Any time you want, Izzy.”

“I hear pet play can be comforting,” agrees Fran. “It’s such a cute fit for you. You know, I always wanted a pet, but somebody said –”

“Oh, shush,” laughs Lia. “Look, I’ll let you have Izzy, but you have to promise to walk her every day.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

Even Izzy is giggling now. Today feels like such a huge pile of nervous questions have been taken off the table. Today feels like a lot of victories and little steps. And as long as she keeps that up, maybe it’s okay for her to be weak. Maybe it’s okay to let her special girlfriends dote on her as much as they want. And maybe it’s okay to like that – and to say it out loud.

“Thank you for liking me so much,” Izzy whispers.

Lia squeezes a little tighter. “Of course, sweetie. We love you.”

“Tomorrow I’m gonna try making crepes for breakfast.”

Fran musses up Izzy’s hair. “That sounds really good,” she says, a little too enthusiastically.

And like that, they keep saying idle nothings back and forth, until all three of them drift off to sleep, having wrung every last drop out of their second Saturday together as girlfriends. ◇