Chapter 7

Joan did her laps around the room before her dinner got cold. When she cleared her plate, Cinder set out how the next morning would go. She showed Joan the room's alarm clock and not so gently advised it would be in Joan's best interests to be up, dressed, made up, and in heels by nine when Cinder would return with another drugged meal. When Joan nodded and agreed that she understood, Cinder gave her a small bag of ice to use on her feet. It was heaven. In fact, it was so good, she passed out only a matter of minutes later.

Joan woke to a luke warm bag of water sitting on one foot and her dress bunched up uncomfortably around her. The light- or lack there of from the windows told her it was the middle of the night. She groaned and slowly worked the dress off over her head without getting out of bed. It brushed gently against her nipples with each movement to try and remove it.

All too quickly it felt like Joan had not an ounce of breath left. Even once she got the dress off, she could still feel it. Fuck, they… they felt… Joan pressed her hands to her chest. Bumps? She could feel bumps under her nipples, like little swelling buds. Cinder really had drugged her? She- she was growing breasts? She was growing breasts and- "Ahhhnh~" Joan moaned out, her fingers naturally circling around the buds.

Lightheaded… Joan felt lightheaded? But, being aroused had never left her- being aroused had also never left her panting and moaning. Certainly not like this. Hopelessly, Joan found her hands pawing at herself, greedily trying to grab at her chest still on the verge of nonexistence. When she pinched on then, Joan nearly sobbed with relief- or tension? Some of both? It was hard to tell. There was pleasure, more pleasure than she ever really thought a chest could give charged through her. It charged through her and pooled tension between her legs.

As Joan's heart raced, her downstairs roared to life. Looking down, she frowned at it. She never liked it, but it seemed easier to stomach when it 'fit' with the rest of her. When the rest of her had the appearance of a man, it seemed to stick out less- ironically, it seemed to physically stick out less now. She couldn't physically be any more aroused, but her length peaked at something smaller and softer than she was used to. That alone seemed to be an improvement, though if Cinder charged in their room at that moment, offering any changes she wished for a hint or two at Pyrrra's location, Joan feared it would almost have tempted her.

Joan didn't want it there. She wanted… smooth, no protrusion, no… part of man. Gently, her hand drifted down to the protrusion. She pressed it down, tucked it away, and nearly cried when she saw it. Aside from the obvious pleasure that came from pressure on her sex, it looked… it looked like 'her' she felt one step closer to being who she had always been meant to be.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to think what a life where she had always been a her might be like. Would she have still found her way to Beacon? To Pyrrha? Joan flashed back to the kiss, to every moment she and Pyrrha ever shared. Would Pyrrha have loved her the same if she knew? Could she? Would she ever- "Pyrrha." Joan moaned.

One hand continued teasing Joan's chest while the other hand was still busy pressing her length down. But, it wasn't just doing that anymore. Joan's lower hand rubbed small circles down and over her sex. It wasn't the most stimulation, but it felt good, and to her, in her head, Joan was caressing her pussy. No, she wasn't Pyrrha was.

Joan fantasized, she dreamt of being held down by Pyrrha, of having her kiss along her neck, to feel a gentle bite as a finger slipped inside her and- Joan screamed pleasurably. She wanted it, she wanted it so bad. Joan wanted nothing more than to feel the strong woman's fingers pressing into her, spreading her, groping her and- "P- Pyr- Please! Please! Please~" Joan called out as she came.

Dizzy and overwhelmed, Joan collapsed back onto the bed. She was spent. Spent, and feeling better than maybe she had in her whole life.

There was no question as to what Joan wanted any longer. She was, would be, and honestly had always been Joan. The only question- why had Cinder's face slipped into her mind just before she came?

End of Chapter 7