In from the Rain

Elevator Pitch: Opening the door to a cute looking girl, Mike discovers that she's not exactly what she appears. Lewdness and maybe good feelings ensues.

***

Mike didn't even need to open his door to know that something was wrong. First of all, someone was knocking just before Midnight. Whoever it was on the other side was on his property, a lonely little quarter acre with a kit home he got cheap, with the nearest town easily twenty minutes down the seldom-maintained side road. Secondly, he'd never met his neighbours, and from what he could figure out from the ubiquitous fencing and warnings of trespasser deterrence ranging from the lethal to the downright cruel, they were solitary people. And they certainly wouldn't be hammering on his door in the middle of the night.

You didn't buy a house in the middle of nowhere with a yearning for an active social calendar. Mike pulled himself out of the comfy, rumpled old couch and crept over to the baseball bat he kept for pure paranoia purposes in the coat closet. Visions of that home invasion scene from A Clockwork Orange played in his brain, and he had no intention of being beaten to death with a giant plaster penis.

Not that he had a giant plaster penis on hand.

"Who is it?" he said in his best booming voice. He wasn't small, slinking around on thin legs at around 6'2. But Mike had never been an intimidating presence in general. Too thin, for one. He shaved as often as he could to prevent his patchy scruff from showing itself on his cheeks, leaving him looking much younger than his 25 years. That was a blessing in some ways, but it also meant that he probably looked like easy meat for whatever barbarian lurked outside his door.

"I need to...can I come in?" came the intruder's voice. It didn't sound like a barbarian. Sounded like a scared cartoon character. Curiosity piqued, Mike looked through the peephole to see the top of someone's head. Blonde hair, matted from the rain outside. He thought he saw a little pink bow holding her hair together.

"But who are you?" he asked again, "I don't got any money, if that's what you think."

The person on his doorstep grumbled. "I'm not a robber, I swear. But I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere here, and I need to use your phone."

"You don't got a cell?"

"It's currently speeding away, along with the rest of my stuff. I got stranded by my asshole boyfriend."

Well that was shit. Mike felt the weight of the bat in his hand. Whoever he was talking to, she sounded like she was genuinely miserable. And the rain outside wasn't fake. He leaned the baseball bat in the corner, deciding that he wasn't about to be attacked. He undid all three deadbolts, fiddling with the chain lock last. "Alright, you can come in until you get a ride."

The voice on the other end immediately brightened. "Oh, thank you sir!"

Mike opened the door to see...something he didn't expect. Even in a pair of heels she stood almost a foot shorter than him. She was wearing a dark pink cocktail dress, something he thought he'd never actually see in real life. She had a small chest, and her hips only lightly flared out the skirt, making her look rather undeveloped for a woman who was probably in her early twenties. Her soft, bright blonde hair was drenched, darkening its colour a few shades and making it cling to her skin. Her skin was creamy white, the kind you could only cultivate with an absence of sun and an abundance of moisturiser. She had been wearing makeup at some point, but it had begun to run from the rain, leaving dark mascara streaks. Her lipstick, glossy and coordinated to her dress, still sparkled in his porchlight.

Realizing he was staring, he stepped out of the way and held out a hand. She shuffled inside, hugging herself and shivering from the cold. Mike wasn't a people person, but he wasn't an asshole.

"I'll get you some towels," he said, heading over to his bathroom. He fetched a few from his spare linens cabinet and handed them to the quaking girl, who quickly began towelling herself off.

"Thanks...this is not how I wanted to spend my Saturday night." She managed to get most of the moisture off her skin, but her dress was still inundated. Water slid from the fabric down to a small puddle around her shoes. "I don't suppose you have anything in my size?"

Mike shrugged. "I doubt it, sorry. No female clothes in general, as it happens."

Mike thought he saw a little flushing on her face that showed past the faded, rain-streaked blush. "That's okay. I just need to make a call."

He fished his smartphone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. It was an older model, but it was easy enough to operate.

"Where am I?" she asked, dialling a number.

"You're down Country Road 44, about twenty five miles out from Scull. I always forget the mile marker, but it's just past the McHenry Peach Co-op."

She nodded, putting the phone to her ear. Mike could hear the rings, then the switch to voicemail. "Hi, Larry. It's Casey. We can talk about this...just come back and get me. I'm down 44, where you left me, at a house past the Peach Farm. Call me when you're close...or if you even hear this." She hung up, sighing in an exasperated but tired fashion. Like she's just shrugged off the last straw.

"I'm guessing he won't be picking you up anytime soon?" Mike ventured, then added: "I'm Mike, by the way."

"Casey. And probably not. I don't even know if he's going to listen to that. We had a bad fight." She looked off to the side, her tone making it clear that 'a bad fight' may be a gross understatement. Some of the chattering and shaking in her slight body might not entirely be due to the wet dress she wore.

"Can you call anyone else? A friend or a family member?"

She shook her head. "No friends out this way, and my family hasn't talked to me in years. I'd try a Ride Sharing service or a Taxi, but I doubt they...oh god, this night has been fucking awful." She held her face in her hands. Casey started making choked, halted noises. The kind someone did when they were trying desperately not to cry, but were about to cry nonetheless.

Mike felt horribly out of his depth. Buying a house in the sticks from which he could operate had been his reward for graduating and getting such plush, work-from-home employment. The most he had to do was a conference call into the team he was contracting with at the time, and maybe the occasional trip into the nearest metropolis for a face to face meeting. Truth be told, he was a little rusty with the whole human interaction thing. Even his relationships had been short and not particularly sweet. Hard to convince a girl to live out in the middle of nowhere with you, after all.

He really didn't know how to deal with this situation. But he wasn't a jerk. And an adorable girl was just about to bawl her eyes out in his living room.

"I...I could loan you a shirt and some pajama pants. They won't fit, but you could at least tie them up or something."

She looked up at him, her eyes moist with stifled tears. "Really? I know I'm imposing on you. But I'd appreciate it. A lot." Against his will, against his better judgement, and against his general misanthropy...he warmed to her. The tentative smile she game him when hesitantly accepting his offer made a long dormant part of him wake up and start poking around like a groundhog after a long winter. It had been a long time since he'd had some female company. He looked back past his bedroom door as he retrieved his slimmest, smallest items of clothing, and imagined her slipping into them from a naked state.

A long...long time.

He offered the use of his bathroom to change, which she gratefully accepted. When she closed and locked the door, he let out a long breath. What had he gotten himself into? He turned to the fire. She'd want to heat herself up near it. He got to work feeding and stoking the cosy blaze.

As he finished coaxing the fireplace into putting out enough heat to properly warm up Casey, he heard her voice from inside the bathroom. "Umm...Mr. Mike? Do you have any...oh damnit...underwear? Mine's soaked all the way through."

Now it was his turn to blush. "I'm...kinda not okay with sharing my underwear with someone I just met."

"But I'm freezing!"

"Just go without. Promise I won't look." God this was embarrassing. All he wanted to do was to get back to his weekend schedule of watching streaming shows and drinking cheap, domestic beer. He fetched the can of swill from his coffee table and started to drink a long, refreshing pull when the door to the bathroom opened in slow motion.

Along with drying her eyes, she'd managed to clear a lot of the makeup from her face. Which made the clear and obvious blush on her cheeks stand out all the more from her cream skin. Arms clutching herself as close as she had been to warm up, he noticed that it was over a surprisingly flat chest. So she padded her bra? Big deal. Didn't matter to Mike. He was just helping out a fellow human being in need was all. It didn't matter what she looked like.

And then he saw it. For just the briefest moment, as Casey took small, hesitant steps towards him, he saw the smallest movement from within that pair of pajama pants. There was no mistaking what it was. He'd seem the same motion in the mirror anytime he looked at himself in the mirror while going commando.

Casey had a penis.

Warning sirens blared in his mind, and he found something in the complete opposite direction to gaze intently at fast. He told himself that it was a modern world, that he wasn't a bigoted jerk. Anyone could do anything they wanted with their clothes or their bodies, and it wasn't his business.

"You said you wouldn't look!" Casey squeaked. For all the world, his...her...fuck, let's got with her for now. Her voice sounded plenty girly.

"I don't care, it's none of my business."

He heard the footsteps, but flinched when he felt a light punch clap his arm. His head snapped back around. "What the hell?"

"Don't recoil like I'm a ghoul. I don't look that bad!"

"That's not what I meant! I told you I wouldn't look."

"Don't look at my crotch, dummy. Look at my face!"

Mike sighed, and lifted his gaze to meet Casey's. "I don't mean anything by this. Honestly, I was just surprised. You...I thought you were..."

"...a real girl?" she finished for him. He nodded, thankful that Casey said the words and he didn't have to. "That's an awesome compliment, you know. Passing, even with my physique, is no easy feat."

Mike nodded. "Is it, like, a lifestyle thing? Or are you just trans?"

Casey shook her head. "No, no, I'm mostly fine with being a male for my life. I just like crossdressing. Was coming back from a party with other like-minded folks when I had my fight with my boyfriend."

"Oh.I gotcha. So if I were to address you in the third person, what would I use?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to bully you over pronoun use. Call me whatever you want, so long as you're nice about it."

"Gotcha."

They waited in silence for a bit, the crackling fire and the steady downpour providing competing soundtracks to their shared awkward pause. Casey actually shuffled her feet like a nervous teen at the prom. Her toes were bare, having ditched her sodden socks and awkward heels.

"Alright, fuck it, just sit down. I have this blanket here. Get warm under it or I'll feel like an asshole."

All he had was the couch. Casey eased her way down onto once side of the weathered seat, settling into the cushions with audible relief. She'd probably been on her feet, in heels or otherwise, for however long she'd been walking after getting ditched. Mike tossed over his big, poofy blanket. The cute creature he plucked from out of the rain settled the comforter over herself.

"You've been unreasonably nice to me," she told him.

"Not really. I'd do this for anyone who turned up, soaked, on my doorstep."

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Oh really? What if I was your height, super ripped, and sounded really tough." Casey looked over to the baseball bat, still leaning against the corner near the door.

Mike shrugged. "Okay, admittedly, the fact that you looked like a defenceless, shivering girl probably sped things along. I'm a chauvinist, I guess. Sue me," he declared. Casey giggled. Actual, honest to goodness giggling. It was so goddamn charming it made Mike swallow hard and regain focus on being a host.

"I'm in your debt, Mike. I'll have to pay you back sometime." The way she was looking at him, he had reason to believe that a purely financial transaction was not what she was referring to.

Mike gulped again. "It's no problem. It's the middle of the night and it's pouring, so you can stay here overnight. I'll drive you into town in the morning, and we can get you on a bus or something. After buying you some proper clothes, of course."

"I don't got money on me. That was all in the car," she cautioned.

He held up a hand. "Don't worry. I do alright for myself. Just pay me when you can."

Mike didn't notice, but somehow Casey managed to work her way down a couch cushion, putting her in the middle of the couch. He pressed himself against the armrest, suddenly uncomfortable in his own home. He was starting to feel uncomfortable in his own pants, for that matter, as the telltale tension of an erection pressed at the fabric of his jeans. He threw the whole spectrum of boner-killing tricks he'd mastered from his teenager years to try and get control. He couldn't be getting aroused to this. He Couldn't.

"Still...there has to be a way I can pay you back. Something I can do for you in the meantime?" She asked, just the teensiest bit of perk in her voice that made a chill run down Mike's spine.

He couldn't pretend to ignore the connotations, however. "Look, Casey, I'm flattered. But I'm-"

"In a relationship?" she asked.

"No, straight!" he declared, wishing for all the world he had a pillow around to hide the bump in his pants as he made a declaration about his heterosexuality.

"And I'm dressed like a girl. We can make this work," she said with another wonderful feminine laugh. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that Casey was the girl he'd thought she was for the first few minutes that they'd met. But...she had a dick. That was a dealbreaker!

He felt her hand on his thigh, and almost on instinct he sprung up to his feet. "No, no, sorry. Really really sorry. You're a good looking...you. But..." Mike searched for the best words to explain why he wouldn't be into this kind of thing. It was harder than he would have thought to find them. "I'm not...I mean, I like girls."

"I know," Casey purred, her dainty hands finding the bulge in Mike's pants. His eyes shot wide open. How had he gotten this hard? "Obviously."

He stumbled backward, foot catching on the coffee table. He flopped to the carpet, taking the fall flat-backed to avoid smacking his head on the floor. Casey slithered down on top of him, holding herself on all fours. If she wasn't much smaller, weaker, and generally soft looking, he would be pinned under her. As it was, he could just feel the places where her body contacted with his. And it felt amazing.

"But you have a boyfriend!" Mike tried, grasping at the last arrows in his quiver.

"A boyfriend who left me in the rain. Where I got to meet you." Casey's hands drifted along his body, sliding up his shirt to slide against his skin. He wasn't muscled by anything but the loosest, literal definition. But it still felt like Casey was admiring his physique. "Let's just say I'd like to get back at him in more ways than one. And if I can give you a little something in return, why the heck not?"

Mike was about to give her an answer to that. Several answers, in fact, including a repetition of that fact that he didn't find other men attractive. But that didn't seem to matter. Not in this case at least. Mike had always thought himself as pretty good at picking out male features from female impersonators. It's not something he trained to look for, it's just something he could detect with a relatively high accuracy. Whenever there was a hint that one of his porn videos was about to turn...unorthodox, he'd bail hard. His unease at the concept was tinged with a lingering curiosity that he'd worked a long time to repress.

But with Casey, he hadn't noticed those flaws. On the contrary, the little details in her appearance had only added character to her. Her padded chest, the mild hips, the slight hint of a lower register when her voice strained against itself.

So when she pressed the first kiss to his lips, he didn't resist. It was a tentative thing, placed there and help with the knowledge that either could break off, call the whole thing a mistake. But that didn't happen.

Casey pulled back to examine Mike's expression. It was something between confusion and...hunger, almost. Her host started to leer in that special way that told her that she was wanted in a physical way. But there were still lingering thoughts in his heart,

"Casey..." he began, but couldn't bring himself to fight back against these unwanted desires. He was so stiff he was aching, and the yielding form atop his body offered relief regardless of the way her body was set up.

"Shh," she whispered, placing a finger to his lips. "Don't have to talk. Just let me help you. I owe you, remember?" she said. Mike was too stunned and confused to speak properly, but he did nod in a shaky, uncoordinated way. Good. Now she could have fun~

Her dainty, soft hands slipped down to his pants once more. Mike's body stiffened, joining one particular organ in aching rigidity. As Casey pulled down his fly and freed him from the tight fabric, he let out a sigh of profound relief. Then he realised that those hands were still stroking his exposed shaft, and a whole new sound escaped his throat.

He groaned as softened hands teased his hardened cock. It didn't even feel like a tease. It felt like she was playing with his flesh like it was a particularly amusing toy; one she was thoroughly familiar with. Mike wasn't a virgin, but Casey was manipulating his shaft like no girl he'd ever been with.

"Christ," he muttered, unsure what to do with his hands. He was certainly not used to being on the receiving end of romantic attentions. Being a passive recipient put him more out of sorts than the revelation of Casey's equipment. But when he tried to sit up, she gently pushed on his stomach to keep him laying down.

"Relax, alright? Jeez, so edgy," she said. With startling grace, she slithered down his body until her head was just above his exposed cock. Her right hand pumped him until she was absolutely sure he wasn't going to get any bigger. "You're not too shabby down here, cutestuff."

Mike nodded, tongue-tied. The hell did you say to something like that? He tried to thank her, but the words were caught up in a three-sentence pileup in his throat. Those glossy lips met his cock head, kissing his member as tenderly as she had his mouth. He felt her tongue snake out to taste his flesh, and had to keep himself from bucking up against her. It had really been too long on his end.

"Liking this?" she asked, devious grin on her face making it very clear she just wanted to hear him say it. Mike, obstinate prig that he was, offered a mild affirmative noise in response. Casey gave a theatrical exaggeration of a pout to that, then worked on his shaft with a series of tender licks. "I'll have to do better then."

Mike gripped the carpet in his hands, twisting the loosened strands as the licking on his rod got longer, the feel of saliva slickening his skin becoming more pronounced. It wasn't long until her lips peeled around his head entirely, engulfing his girth.

"Fuck," he grunted, putting one of his hands on the back of her head. His girlfriends had all giving head, or only did it if he returned the favour. Casey was going at it like a born champion. Bobbing and twisting her head, pulling back offered wet popping and suckling noises that drove him deeper into bliss.