Nightbird

by Georgie d'Hainaut

24 Mar 2019 2115 readers Score 8.8 (24 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


It was an extremely hot Friday afternoon. At the City Council offices René, a young city clerk, closed down his computer and looked forward to the weekend. Because, as in other weekends, this would also be dedicated to his other I.

Yes, René led two lives. One from Monday morning to Friday afternoon as a city clerk in the City Council’s Finance Department, from Friday evening until Sunday late afternoon a totally different life, a life that was carefully kept secret from his colleagues, his family and his neighbors. He had managed to guard it so closely that nobody in the “real world” knew about it or even had the slightest clue of it.


He had made the first steps to this second life in his late puberty as a way to evade the loneliness, the unhappiness and the humiliation that had started during his early puberty and that made life hell during a number of years. Because René found out pretty early that he had a problem, a huge and sheer insoluble problem.

He was convinced he was just a scrag, a thin, skinny boy that bore no comparison with the ideal image of what a real boy should be. No broad shoulders, muscles and six-pack, nicely rolling biceps and narrow hips. In his eyes it was more the other way around: narrow shoulders, no visible muscles and especially no biceps (not to mention the desired six-pack) and hips that were too broad for a boy. At times when he stood naked in front of a mirror and studied himself, he could only conclude that he looked like a girl. Apart from that one thing between his legs that would disqualify him immediately from being a girl. And even that thing was not what it should have been. He only saw an unsightly little tube and he was totally convinced of the fact that even this thing was better developed in the case of “real boys”. He considered himself as the type of boy that was by default unable to attract a girl. It didn’t matter to him, since he was not interested in girls. He fancied boys. But other boys, even with the same preference, wouldn’t notice him in the first place.

The only beautiful thing he could discover in his mirror image were his eyes, that were a deep dark brown and that shone with sensitivity and softness. But even they were disgraced by a pair of spectacles.

On both basic and secondary school he was the weakling of the class. When during sports team sports were on the program and the teams were divided by choosing he was always the last unassigned boy that nobody wanted. Most of the time the teacher just randomly attached him to one of the teams, who accepted him grudgingly and who kept him out of the game as much as possible, since his actions were not exactly conducive for the chances of winning the game. And when other real boys with good muscles were able to fool around in the flying-rings for five minutes, he fell out on the floor mat after ten or twenty seconds, not being able to hold his own weight any longer. But out of the sports hours he was the fool of the class as well, with both boys and girls. He was always the laughing stock, who felt more and more lonely and unhappy day by day. His desire for boys increased as well but there were no erotic developments to be expected.

In many, many nights he dreamt of it: of being wanted! Of how a delicious boy or young man would be so outraged with desire if he saw René naked that the only possibility of extinguishing the fire of lust was simply taking him, until the unavoidable explosion of hot, fluid love would be jettisonized in his intestines. But then….who would be set afire by a bag of bones? It started to grow into an obsession that depressed him more and more.


Until things started happening!


Because live lovers weren’t expected at short or even long notice he decided to go to a small bookstore in town to buy himself a nice gay magazine. If nothing happened, then he just had to resign to looking at pictures of cute boys and to a good wanking. He had just turned eighteen, but might as well look fifteen or sixteen. After he selected a magazine he went to the counter to pay for it.

The elderly, unfriendly store owner looked at him disapprovingly and asked in a low voice:

“Do your parents know you’re buying this, son?”

René smiled politely, put up a poker face and replied:

“Oh yes, sir! Actually: my dad sent me here to buy it for him!”

The man looked at him with a startled face, totally shocked into the deepest foundations of his Anglican morality, gave him his change and sent him on his way without a further word. René went home, carefully putting the magazine in a plastic bag so that no one could see it.

After coming home he sat in his chair and started to have a look in the magazine. Each boy was even more adorable and desirable as the one on the page before. Slowly his hand slipped in his jeans and under the underwear and he felt how his dickhead turned damp and slippery. He turned another page.

“Now, what’s that?” he muttered in utter surprise, “A girl?”

In front of him was the picture of a breathtakingly beautiful girl in very sexy clothing that hid very little. She had long, blond almost shining hair, long legs, a delicious behind and what for girls might be considered a perfect body.

“I’m pretty sure I bought me a gay magazine”, he whispered to himself somewhat annoyed. He flipped back to the front cover and yes, it was a gay magazine. So he returned to the picture of the girl to solve the mystery, where he read:

“T-Girl Delizzyous, 6 ft, 140 lb, 6.5”, 23 years”.

“Now what the fuck is a t-girl?” he asked himself softly.

He cranked up his laptop and started googling. He read the information with increasing interest, almost greedily taking the texts in. Step for step the picture became clearer: “chicks with dicks”, transsexual and a lot of other variations on the same theme.

As if stung by a hornet he jumped out of his chair and stripped himself naked. Then he positioned himself in front of the mirror, keeping the porn magazine in his hand, opened on the page with Delizzyous. He started to compare his own mirror image with her picture…..same kind of legs, the same broader hips and the same narrow shoulders…and, he had to admit to his own advantage, his own ass was quiet cute and certainly comparable with hers. All of a sudden the dime fell!

“Shit”, he cried out almost too loud, “That is the solution. I have to become a t-girl!”

Now René might consider himself a bag of bones but he was no fool. It would take a lot of effort and preparation and would take a long time. Either he did it the right way or he didn’t do it at all. So he started his preparations in the knowledge it would become a long and at times frustrating process. For example: which name would he use? Well, that was the question that was answered easily. He had a French boy’s first name and in his French classes he had learnt that if you add an “e” to a boy’s first name it automatically became a girl’s first name. So he would be Renée. It was the first careful step in what would become living in two worlds.


He didn’t rush, he was in no hurry. He knew what he was going in to. He resisted the idea of limiting the whole operation to a ridiculous disguise party. No, it should have class. So he decided to start paying more attention to girls. It was not meant as an erotic desire to have one besides him in bed, but he wanted to study their ways of moving and attitude. It occurred to him that girls moved far more graciously as boys, who tend to push themselves forward in some bearlike macho way of walking. He practiced the female way of moving for weeks in front of the mirror. Only after three months he was reasonably satisfied. It still needed refinements but the start was there.

Next came the problem: what would he wear? One thing was for sure: no dark tones, which would make him melt back into the darkness of evening and night, the times where he would be active.

So it had to be flamboyant, colorful, seductive and sexy and maybe some extravagancy was an option as well, if not overdone. Apart from the clothing: how would he look in general? Color of hair, make-up…a multitude of detail questions that all had to be planned and answered. His financial limitations as a student only allowed him only small purchases of affordable items with the rest postponed to a later date.

The transformation process picked up speed when he got his first job and as a result more money to spend. It achieved the force of a river pushing through a narrow canyon when he got his job at the City Council. It enabled him to rent a small apartment in the city center. It had some advantages: apart from being close to City Hall it was within walking distance to his future hunting grounds. And he started with the real expensive investments, like clothing and wigs, besides exchanging René’s spectacles for Renée’s contact lenses. It made her eyes even more beautiful and sparkling. The wardrobe was assembled with meticulous care. Each small step brought the day of exposure a bit nearer.


And then the day finally came! René showered carefully and sprinkled some perfume on his body. He dressed carefully: daringly provocative black and white undies including suspenders and white net stockings, a red gleaming mini-skirt, a somewhat too tantalizingly wide-opened white shirt and last but not least boots of the same color as the skirt, reaching to the knees. All was finished off by a black leather jacket. For the occasion he decided to take the wig which would turn him into a brunette. After studying himself in the mirror for a long time, he was satisfied with what he saw: René had turned into Renée in a way that even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. With weak knees and nerve knots in his stomach he left his apartment. This evening was it: it was all or nothing!

It was a huge success!! In every pub frequented by gays where she showed up she was almost jumped on by horny and very attractive men. But she had no intention to go that far the first night. So she chatted flirtatiously with her worshippers, enjoyed the attention and the many drinks offered but still was able to wake up in the morning alone. Somewhat nebulous of the quantity of consumed alcoholics of this first night Renée returned to René again and he stumbled in his bed bone tired, but feeling intensely happy. It worked. Finally they saw him, or better her, for what she was…an attractive human being!


In the months that followed Renée became more and more reckless and provocative. The whole gay scene in town was in turmoil. It buzzed like a nest of bumblebees in a flowering rose garden with rumours: who was she, where had she come from all of a sudden? And there were wild speculations about which lucky guys had already shared the bed with her. Because, yes….in the mean time that happened. There were great and gorgeous encounters but Renée also had her share of negative experiences. The absolute nadir was the evening that a man in an expensive suit took her to one of the one hour-hotels in town but was already fully dressed again at the hotel room door when she was still naked on the bed, not even thinking of cumming yet, not to mention the fact she had come. Apparently the gentleman had an urge to relieve the pressure in his balls only. With a “See you later, my wife is waiting” he threw a five pound note on the floor and left, never to be seen again. And Renée didn’t regret it that she never met him again.

In these months Renée became a temptation and an obsession at the same time for many gay men. Nobody knew her by name but because she was always active during hours of darkness she became a nickname in the gay scene: she was the Nightbird!. It was a word that buzzed around in the gay scene in town and one that made the eyes of its members sparkle when it was spoken. When Renée found out about the nickname she showed a broad smile. She wore it with pride because for her it was the symbol for what she wanted to achieve in the first place and it symbolized that she could live the life she had chosen in total freedom.


Eric is originally a Nordic name. Eric was also a name that the old Viking warriors wore with pride during their medieval times. And the Eric, that was sauntering to town on the night of the same Friday that City Council clerk René shut down his computer, could have been a Viking. With his twenty-five years he was the kind of man who was admired and wanted by all women of around that age. He was pretty big with his 1.90 meters, had a trimmed, muscular and lightly-tanned body that was decorated by a true six-pack. His friendly, clear blue eyes that seemed to smile perpetually, were in a well-shaped face with a mouth equally prone to smiling. To make it perfect the face was framed in light-blond curly hair that hung on his shoulders. The name Adonis might be an exaggeration, but Eric was very close to it. And all women noticed it, so Eric felt their glances gliding over his body when he lounged through town. Every time he felt these glances he smiled inwardly, always having the same thought: “Sorry, cuties, not a chance in the world!”

Because Eric was gay. Not only that, he was very clear about his being gay and practiced the love for men with a vengeance. He was no sissy. No, he was a 100% men but he happened to like men more than women. Although he admitted to himself that he had a big crush for t-girls. He couldn’t care a bit what society thought about him. His credo was “It’s my life!” and he lived according to that.

On this beautiful summer evening he was walking towards town, dressed in a red sleeveless t-shirt that showed his muscled broad shoulders and strong arms even clearer, a tight white jeans and open shoes. And he made no effort to disguise his intentions for this night: he was simply “hunting” for a cute boy or t-girl to play around with during the night. As a result he was walking to the “Mousetrap”, a pub in the small streets of the city center that had evolved to a meeting place for gays over the years. He entered the pub, ordered a beer and sat down with it at a free table. He glanced around shortly, gauging his chances for success. But he only saw men and boys who were frequently visiting the “Mousetrap” and none of them were the type Eric was looking for.

“Well”, he mused, “guess it is alone in bed tonight. Or there must be some surprise coming on”.

Feeling a little bored and disappointed he took his first sip of beer. Time passed; nothing happened and nothing changed. He ordered a second beer. Still no change….he was just thinking about going home again…when the surprise came!

The door opened and a dashing beautiful young girl entered. Eric glanced briefly at her crotch to ensure she was what he was looking for: a t-girl. She seemed a few years younger than he was, had long light-brown hair and beautiful long tanned legs. She wore a red shirt that was closed with a knot above her browned belly and a very tight white jeans short in which her delicious behind was clearly present. Through her open shoes, which closed with laces around the lower legs up to the knees, soft red painted nails could be seen. Her face was like a sculpture but unfortunately Eric couldn’t discern her eyes because of her sun glasses.

“Who is that?”, he asked stunned to a guy who sat near him.

“Don’t you know her?” was the reply, “That’s the Nightbird!”

Eric had heard rumours about a new t-girl in town that had caused a riot in the whole gay community. She had been given that nickname he had heard and often he noticed that it was mentioned with admiration and something looking like reverence. So now he saw her live for the first time…and she had a profound effect on him.

He knew he had to be fast. The eyes of all the men in the pub were glued on her and each pair of eyes burned with desire.

“Hey,” he cried out, “over here, here’s a free chair for you!”

The Nightbird seemed in doubt and looked around. But to Eric’s relief she seemed to make up her mind, came straight to his table and sat down.

“Hi,” Eric started a bit stammering, “I’m Eric”.

She smiled with kind of disarming shyness and replied softly:

“ Hi Eric, I’m Renée”.

She took off her sun glasses. Only then Eric was able to see her eyes. They were a deep dark brown and were like deep lakes that led directly to her soul. Erik was a devoted believer in the theory that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. And if this thesis was correct, then he had someone sitting opposite of him with a very beautiful and very deep soul.

“I’ve never seen you here before”, he tried to start a conversation, “What are you looking for?”

She shrugged laconically and with a neutral tone in her voice but with an enchanting smile in her eyes she answered:

“A bit of fun, a bit of pleasant company. But it might be I’m looking for a gorgeous sweet boy. Might be even you. The future will learn”.

“Ups, that was a left hook on the chin”, Eric thought. But in seconds he became totally intrigued by this unknown, beautiful t-girl with her deep brown mysterious eyes.

“May I offer you a drink?” Eric asked in an effort to keep her at his table.

“Yes, I’d love to”, came the reply, accompanied again that all-embracing smile, “A prosecco would be nice”.

Eric ordered the prosecco and by the time it was on the table she took a careful sip and looked around the pub. Eric’s brains were straining to the utmost to find something that might keep some sort of conversation going. But before he had a bright idea she looked him straight in the eyes and asked:

“And what are you looking for?”

For a moment Eric was baffled. He had the distinct feeling that the reason for his being here, “hunting”, would not be looked upon kindly.

“Funny thought”, it flashed through his mind, “If you’re hunting only the prey is important. Why is it important then how she feels about it. If she says no, it’s no and I’ll find another prey. What makes her so special?”

Something was happening here he didn’t understand, at least didn’t understand any longer.

“You come here often?” she asked with clear interest in her voice.

“Not that often, but things can always change. It depends on who else is here”.

His reply was greeted with the most stunning smile he ever saw, the kind of smile he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams.

“Shit, man”, he thought, “What is happening here?”

“Are you implying that a specific somebody must be here?” she asked softly. Totally obsessed by the eyes and the smile Eric had no alternative to giving an honest and straight answer:

“Well, it would help a lot if I knew you were here”.

If heaven could be seen in a smile, Eric was certain he saw heaven right at that moment. What started as a night in town for “hunting” developed more and more into the fact that he was falling in love with a totally unknown, very beautiful and very mysterious t-girl. Whether he liked it or not, there was no escape possible.

He tried hard to get a grip on his feelings and took a sip of his beer, realizing that the brown eyes still gazed at him. The only thing he was able to do was to stare back into them with an infatuate expression of the average adolescent losing his head and heart in a matter of minutes.

Renée liked the eyes. They were honest and genuine. And they radiated an enormous interest in what they saw. She was sure she had him on the hook. She finished the prosecco, leaving one sip in the glass. She renewed her gaze on Eric, took the last sip and rose. Then she went to the other side of the table, stood besides the boy and whispered in his ear:

“I’m back tomorrow evening. I’d love you to be here as well”.

She then pressed a soft, careful kiss on the boy’s cheek. Before he was able to react she was gone, leaving him in the middle of a tempest of feelings.

He wasn’t the only one with a lot of emotions. Renée had them too when she walked home. But hers where feelings of satisfaction. He was a gorgeous and beautiful boy. Actually, he was like an Adonis but she had the strong feeling that not only his body was beautiful. She sensed he had a good character as well and his inner I was more important than the exterior beauty. When she came home she undressed, Renée returned to René. After cuddling the cat for a while he went to bed. Tired but very happy he fell sound asleep. The most dreams that night were about Eric.


The following evening Eric totally surprised the landlord of the “Mousetrap” when he was waiting at the door when the pub opened for business. Due to the early hour he ordered himself a cappuccino and sat down at the same table as the evening before. He was the only client at that moment. He was really wondering what was happening to him. He behaved like a love-sick adolescent who was waiting nervously until the adored beauty of his dreams would show up.

“Man”, he muttered to himself, “Never thought that this would happen to me!”

Slowly the pub filled up but again it were the regular guests and so every now and then a newcomer he had never seen before. But the one he was waiting for did not arrive. He became totally nervous and anxious, his stomach ached, the butterflies stampeded in his belly and he had to fight the urge to start biting his finger nails. Time passed. Eric ordered his third capuccino and started to ask himself in earnest if he was fooled. In a disappointed mood he had just taken the first sip of his third coffee when the door opened…and there she finally was!

The Nightbird came in, took a quick look around, saw him at his table and went straight to him. With a beaming smile she rewarded the boy for his pains en tribulations by kissing him on both cheeks.

“Great, you’re here”, she said on a kind tone.

Yeah…and what’s more important…you’re here too”, he sighed with relief showing on his face.

With a cheeky smile she asked:

“Were you really afraid I wouldn’t be coming?”

Eric shook his head in the macho way and asked “What do you want to drink?”

“Hm, I don’t feel like prosecco. Give me a cappuccino as well”.

Enjoying their capuccini they started talking. It was innocent talk, nothing sensual or intimate. They were just trying to get to know each other. Eric told he was a registered nurse in hospital, recounted some youth memories from a very happy childhood and about the other things he did apart from working. Renée kept a low profile. Oh yes, she told some things but not too much. Her youth was kept totally out as a conversation topic. She had the feeling it was a very bad idea to start talking about all the frustration, grieve and negative experiences with someone she knew so briefly. But, she had to admit, liked enormously. Eric’s happy childhood stories made her a bit jealous but since she liked the boy she was happy for him.

While talking and talking the evening passed without being noticed. At about eleven the Nightbird said:

“Hey, Eric…I think it would be great if we can become friends. Just do nice things together: shopping in town, or go to the swimming pool or take a walk in the forests”.

She rose and in one fluid movement she stood beside Eric. She looked at him and said:

”I really can’t be here tomorrow. But next Saturday?”

“Yeah, great. Maybe Saturday afternoon, we can go to town, have a drink”, Eric suggested.

“OK”, was the answer, again accompanied with the beaming smile from the brown eyes. She bent over, kissed him again on both cheeks and whispered in his ear:

“You’re not only cute…you are incredibly sweet as well!”.

Eric’s heart seemed to skip three beats. Stuttering he answered:

“You’re very beautiful and sweet too!”

“See you Saturday!” she said cheerfully, again using her strongest weapon…and she was gone just like that.

Eric remained seated where he was. His heart thumped. He was certain now…for the first time in his life it was not only playing around but he had fallen in love without any chance of rescue. It felt as if he was hit by a loaded truck but he considered it a small price to pay.

The door closed behind her and she took a deep breath. A blissful smile came over her face. This was the one million pound ticket in the lottery. For a few seconds she thought it over and then she said to herself:

“That’s the one I want! And I’m going to get him!”

But she realized she made a mistake as well without thinking and totally spontaneous. She had changed her normal operating environment from the evening and night to broad daylight. But after careful consideration she decided that the Nightbird might be a Daybird as well. It was a small price for the bounty of getting Eric, a price she was totally willing to pay, including all the possible risks.


That Saturday afternoon went as was to be expected. They had a drink in town, took a walk through the forest and had another drink at a small café at the forest’s rim that had the poetic name of “The Thirsty Deer”. At the time that Renée started to wonder if this was it or that something else might happen Eric suggested:

“Come with me to my place. We can have dinner together”.

“Depends on what you have…”, she said with a cheeky smile, “If you serve broccoli I might as well go to the fish-and-chips cart”.

“Ah, you don’t like broccoli?” Eric inquired, causing an immediate face with mock disgust.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be spaghetti”, he continued with a smile.

After returning in Eric’s small apartment he started cooking and soon Renée was savoring the most delicious spaghetti she could remember, accompanied by a glass of fruity Italian red wine. After dinner they continued talking but the amount of tender kisses increased more and more.

At the end of the evening…or was it night already?, Eric whispered in her ear:

“Renée, please stay with me tonight!”

She was so overjoyed that she was unable to speak, but her beaming eyes gave the only possible and right answer.


They were as two red-blooded stallion foals in a small paddock. They played, tumbled and enjoyed. They made love as only two young boys can do it, without inhibitions, passionate and wild but at the same time tender and with love and compassion. After the last shred of clothing had dropped from Renée’s body Eric was admiring the sight breathlessly. They started kissing and Eric’s lips stopped for a while at her small breasts where he sucked her nipples tenderly, sending tremors of expectation and lust through her body. The caressing achieved a level never experienced before by Renèe and it launched her into a kind of limitless emotional Walhalla. They relished each other’s body warmth and –scent. Worked up to the extreme by all the physical warmth Renée whispered her declaration of love into Eric’s ear. It stimulated him even more to reconnoiter Renee’s body intensively with finger tips, tongue and lips, thereby pushing her to the most far flung borders of an emotional universe. It became a voyage through the unknown spaces of emotions, stimuli, lust and pleasure, playing the full spectrum of feelings, like an accomplished harpist can bring music to live by delicately playing all the strings of his instrument.


They enjoyed it for hours, getting higher step by step in their ecstasy, although both experienced each stage as being already on the highest attainable level but crashing through that level again and again to an even elated sphere. And the most ultimate moment still had to come.

The culmination came nearer. Eric put his head on her shoulder and whispered in her ear:

“I want to plant my tree up to the root inside you and spread the seeds for a young tree in your body. Yes, I know, for us gays it is idle talking and vain hope. But at least it would be my intention, each and every time I enter you!”

The question could be read in his eyes, the unspoken question if his adored would allow it. Breathless and speechless Renée only answered it with a firm, decided nod.

Although their longings had been following parallel tracks they were inclining gradually towards each other until their paths crossed. At their intersection the great moment came for which both were languishing.

Renée felt a sharp pain inside her, the unavoidable adjunct of being deflowered. But even the pain was an ecstatic experience and it was damped by an indescribable feeling, a sensation she was unable to compare with other sensations she had experienced but to which she turned immediately addicted in a split second, requiring a repeat and a repeat and another repeat as often as possible, that psychedelic were the effects.

At the moment Eric’s lance was about to explode and wanted to disperse his boiling lava of love in her, tears welled into her dark brown eyes. They weren’t tears of grieve or sadness, they were tears of pure joy! At last somebody had noticed her, somebody had desired her and that somebody had made her his lover. She would never ever let him go again! The burden of the childhood as a boy slid off her shoulders in that one second and she was reborn like a Phoenix as a woman with an extra body part in her undies.

Totally drained and exhausted by the intense love making that had lasted for hours she fell sound asleep. Eric kissed both her closed eyes, very carefully avoiding to wake her up again. Then he put out the light.

by Georgie d'Hainaut

Email: [email protected]

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