Do NOT read this if you're under age for your community, or if reading this story is illegal for you
or against your community's standards.  <!--ADULTSONLY-->

This story is copyright. I, the author, am an attorney, and if I find this story has been
misappropriated in any way, shape or form, I will not hesitate to pursue any remedies available. In
other words, don't steal what isn't yours. In limited situations, I may grant permission to use this
story upon request. To make such a request, or to provide feedback (ALL FLAMES WILL BE
DELETED WITHOUT COMMENT), email me at: TransdeLion AT NO SPAM yahoo dot com.

By the way, some people may think they recognize some of the characters in this story from real
life. While it's true that there may be similarities, all of these characters are individuals made up
from various combined thoughts in my head, and are NOT representative of any actual person.
They're all fragments of my own imagination, god help me. If anything, in some small way all of
these people are me, even if they don't look, taste, or smell like I do.

I am a transman, myself. Many of the actions in this story are authentically what it might be like
for a female to male transsexual, but the actual story is not true. I have had surgery, and am not
in the same body configuration as Ferdinand, although I was, once. Don't expect a man-in-a-dress
story, that's not going to happen here. Makeup and pretty clothes have no place in this tale.
-------------------------------------------------------------

The Softest Touch By Transdelion

Corey stepped down from the landing, turned at the bottom of the stairs, and walked along the
abutment behind the building. He felt a frisson of anticipation, partly of hope and partly of fear.
Would he be read tonight? Or, would he, just once, have a good time without being made to feel
like a complete fake and moron?

He came down the alley between the buildings and emerged into the nightlife that was Chapel and
Vassar Streets. City lights bounced off the faces of the laughing, sexually charged men that
filled the avenue. The energy was high.  Anything could happen. Corey felt like he had just
climbed on a roller coaster, and was starting to climb the tall track.

Strutting, he cruised slowly along the streets that were the meat of the gay nightlife. Men's
eyes glittered and stared, undressing their viewees as the leers went up and down swaying
bodies. Corey grinned, posing and returning the looks of invitation. And yet, he chose to only
flirt, he didn't feel brave enough to risk exposure.

After making the circuit, he made his way to the 510. The drag queens inside were already on
the stage and in full bloom, working the crowd. He felt safer here than anywhere else on the
strip, but still not secure. His safety was only relative to his secrecy, and his secrecy only as
good as his projected confidence could appear.

He went to the bar, where he smiled and winked at the drop dead gorgeous bartender serving
the customers on the other side of the square serving area.  "Woah," sighed the bartender, as
he cut off the conversation midstream, and came over to Corey. "What can I get for you,
Honey?" he sighed seductively, running one hand down across his bulging crotch and cupping
himself momentarily. He was short in stature but perfectly shaped.

Corey dropped his voice, leaned into the bartender's ear, and said, "Mmmmmm, can I have a
Black Russian?"

The bartender laughed. "Oh, sure Honey. One hot very Black Russian coming right up." He quickly
licked his lips while looking into Corey's eyes, then turned to make the drink. Even though Corey
knew the act was mostly engineered to encourage a big tip, he felt a charge. Hell yes, he'd leave
a big tip. He loved the attention, no matter how contrived it was.

"Thank you, Honey," the bartender cooed. Then he whirled off, turning the beam of his attention
onto the next tip giver.

Corey left the counter, and wandered into the edge of the crowd gathered at the stage where
the drag queens performed. He lifted his drink and took a long, deep swallow. He wanted the
drink to make his anxiety disappear, the fear that the secret he carried made him undesirable
to these men. He took a deep breath, told himself to get over it, and focused on the drag
queens.

He loved the queens, they inspired him. The more outrageously they parodied femaleness, the
more tough looking guys fell all over them when they came off stage. So many gay men treated
the queens like they were pariahs, but Corey admired them. It took courage to be the lightening
rods for widespread prejudice, the focus of gay and trans phobia that existed everywhere
including inside the queer community itself. Corey admired them for having a courage that he did
not. He drained his drink, wishing he could take on courage in liquid form. The tiny blond queen
who had been working the crowd left the stage and was replaced by a beautiful big brunette.
Corey was amazed as "Cherry LaPitt" made the most of her obviously fat physique, and enjoyed
the adulation of her audience.

It was time to cruise on. As much as he enjoyed the show, he wasn't interested in the queens as
sex objects at all. He wanted something...darker. He went out of the bar.

A couple of hours had passed. The energy on the street had changed, and the faces were now
sweatier and more animated, and the crotch gazing more obvious. A thick stream of men now
ambled along the sidewalk, murmuring. Corey flowed into the movement and let it carry him. As
he walked toward the bars making up the rougher end of the gay strip, he let his eyes meet the
questing looks of all oncomers. An increasing sexual high infused him, a high contacted from the
physical touch of the looks of the cruising men. They were all high, it was the mutual foreplay
created through the electrical conduit of the eyes. By the time he reached the bar
LeatherHawk, he felt almost frenzied by sexual desire. Oh god, if he could only just fuck and be
fucked.

A few men in black leather strapping stood in a group blocking the door. Although they kept
talking among themselves as Corey approached, they carefully appraised him. Corey was short
and slight as men went, the victim of nature and genetics, and was generally assumed to be a
bottom. He didn't know what he was, he didn't have experience enough to know for sure. His
leather play of the past, both as top and bottom, had been intense and deeply satisfying but
limited. His fear of discovery had kept it limited.

His need kept him coming back to try again and again. Steeling himself to take on the leather
attitude, he drew himself to full height, and looked the Doms one by one in the eye, then nodded.
They nodded in return, then parted slightly to grant him ingress into the LeatherHawk. He
pushed between them, very aware of their bodies, and his own. He felt a hand fleetinging cup his
ass, another brush roughly against his crotch. A trickle of fear fled through his belly. Then he
was past them and inside the bar. He closed his eyes, and took a deep, steadying breath.

In that brief moment of darkness, he felt the boom, boom of undulating house music timed to
the beat of his blood. He grinned, sighed, relaxed. It was the beat of sex. He took another deep
breath, taking in more of the pulsing sex magic of the place. It nerved him, made him feel bold,
and he made his way through the crowd of bodies to the liquor dispensary, where he ordered
another Black Russian. Here, the bartenders were too rushed serving the dense crowd to engage
in any sort of interaction other than than the briefest of exchanges. He was surprised when he
finally got his unusually large and strong drink; someone obviously liked him. He turned back to
the bar and caught the eye of the man who had waited on him. There was a sly smile, and a wink.

Corey laughed, and raised his glass a little, mouthing the words, "Thank you." He then turned
back around and began to make his way into the darker back rooms. Here, the need was raw,
and the men stood about or moved in waves around tableaus where sexual contact was played
out for real. In this room, a Dom raised his whip over his head while his sub kneeled before him
with head lowered, waiting for the blow. In that room, a sub lie stretched upon a St. Andrew's
cross while his Dom attached nasty looking clamps to his balls. Corey entered a third room,
where a Dom slowly stroked his cock in and out of a sub chained into a leather sling that hung
hip high.  Immediately, Corey felt a rush to his crotch. He could imagine himself as both Master
and as slave, feeling both power and surrender.

He stood in a circle of men observing the action. Corey became aware of the two men on either
side of him, and surreptitiously turned and checked them out. The man on his left was tall and
well built. He wore leather jeans, a harness, and a cap, and was completely engrossed by the
view before him. He lifted a glass of beer to his lips without glancing away once. On Corey's right
stood a much shorter fellow in jeans and a white t-shirt, who had exquisitely delicate features.
When Corey glanced his way, he caught the other's eye, and saw a slow stealthy smile steal
across his lips. The gaze shot to Corey's crotch, inflaming him. With the desire came more
uneasiness.

Corey lifted his drink and swallowed the large amount remaining, then took another shudderingly
deep breath. He looked back at the dream to his right.

He looked right into intense, brown eyes. His neighbor had turned toward him, and he felt a hand
creep across his hip. Terror gripped him, he gulped, pushed it down. The hand groped, groped
further left, then grasped and squeezed his cock from outside his jeans. Corey involuntarily
jumped and pulled back. While the Dom on stage sunk his entire arm up to his elbow into his sub's
wide open ass, Corey took a full step back away from the hand groping right in front of him. Mr.
Brown Eyes turned and took a step toward him, raising an eyebrow.

Corey looked at the man with what were probably wild eyes. He saw that the man was not scary
at all, but was his own height and much thinner. He again forced his panic down.

The man leaned over to his ear. "Would you like to get a coffee at the StarCup?" Corey heard
under the loud thudding music. Suddenly, hope flared bright in his chest, hurting. He felt relieved
that he had decided to pack before coming out, and that he had done his packing well enough to
escape detection - so far.

"Yes," he said, searchingly holding the other's gaze for a long instant. Then Corey took his
neighbor's hand, and led him out of the bar.

Corey stopped at the sidewalk and looked back at his partner. "What is your name?" he asked.

"I'm Ben."

"Corey."

"Ah, hello," said Ben. "Come down here," he said, as he started down the alley next to the
LeatherHawk.

"No!" exclaimed Corey, sharply pulling back. His heart thumped madly.

"O...kay," said Ben. "What next, then?"

"Coffee. Ah, let's just go have coffee," Corey stuttered.

"Alright," Ben said. "Let's go." He gently squeezed Corey's hand, and began to walk the half block
to the StarCup all night coffee shop. Being in the Gay Village, the Cup catered to the queer
community, and was a safe place to hang out and flirt, or just talk.

The two men were silent but tense as they went to the Cup. Once, Ben turned and flashed a big
smile at Corey that was partly flirtatious and partly reassuring. He obviously realized something
was bothering Corey, but for some reason decided to stay with him. This was not the behavior
of the typical gay guy out on a Saturday night looking for a quick fuck or two or three. Corey
felt fear and hope, fear and hope in waves, with bits of curiosity tossed in.

Each ordered and paid for their coffee. They went out of StarCup's and sat on the long set of
steps in front of the shop.

"Wow, what a nice night," exclaimed Corey, feeling utterly foolish as he tried to make
conversation.

"It sure is," said Ben. "Just look at that," he said, gesturing toward the backside of a cute guy
walking past.

Corey laughed.

"Of course," said Ben, "I'm sitting next to the cutest guy around tonight."

Corey choked and began coughing on his coffee.

Ben looked at him sideways, and took on a serious expression. Suddenly he grinned widely, and
began laughing and pounding Corey on the back. Corey sputtered, and then he began laughing,
too.

They laughed hysterically, going on and on. Finally, they stopped.

Corey wiped his eyes. "I don't know what that was all about, but it felt pretty good," he said.

"Yeah, to me too," chuckled Ben. "Hey, why don't you tell me about yourself?" he asked.

"Ok, well, I'm an artist," said Corey. He went on to tell Ben about his widely varying artistic
interests, and how they all came together in powerful graphic design work. "How about you?"

"I'm an EMT worker, I ride around in ambulances, and try to patch up people who are in pieces,"
said Ben, slowly.

"That must be hard," Corey opined.

"It is," said Ben. He sighed.  Then he said, "But nothing else I've ever done has felt so rewarding.
It's really important."

They fell silent. Ben tentatively reached out a hand and placed it on Corey's knee. "Corey, what's
really going on with you?"

Corey reacted defensively. "You don't even know me. What do you mean, what's going on with
me?"

"Well," Ben said, "I see a guy that is so way cute, so hot, and I want him, but he acts like he's in
terror. I just thought there might be something causing it." He reached out a hand and caught
Corey's chin. Looking into Corey's eyes, he pulled him close and kissed him.

"Mmmm," he said.

Corey kept his eyes tightly shut, but allowed the kiss. When Ben began covering his lips with
more kisses, light butterfly kisses, Corey began to respond.

Ben slid his hand toward Corey's crotch, and squeezed. Corey didn't notice at first - his rubbery
packie softy didn't have nerve endings, and didn't know when it was being fondled. Suddenly
Corey realized he was being groped, and froze.

"Corey," said Ben. "What's wrong? Don't you know I know you're f2m? Don't you know I don't
care?"

Corey gasped. He lowered his head to his knees, put his arms around himself, and cried.

in a little while, with relief as big as the night, he took Ben in his arms and began to kiss him for
real.