It was the hottest day of the summer, and the beach was already packed by the time I arrived. I’d spent the morning carefully shaving, moisturizing, and slipping into my tiniest, most daring bikini bottom—the MTF style one I got from Koalaswim. It was designed for femme boys and trans girls like me, snug enough to flatten and feminize everything down there with a seamless, convincingly soft camel toe. No bulge. No doubt. Just smooth, sexy confidence.
I stood in front of the mirror for a long time that morning, admiring how far I’d come. My frame had always been more on the athletic side—lean and toned from running and yoga—but I’d slowly grown into my femme self. Feminine curves were starting to bloom along my hips, and my waist looked cinched and tight. My chest wasn’t big, but with how bare I was up top, I wasn’t trying to be anything but unapologetically me.
Walking from the car to the beach felt like crossing into a new life. Heads turned. I caught one guy literally drop his sunglasses when he looked up from his phone. I was nervous, but something inside me—something bold and maybe even a little wicked—loved the attention.
I spread my towel out, close enough to the action but still with space to breathe. As I laid down, I caught my reflection in my phone’s black screen—camel toe on point, thighs glowing in the sun, hips rising off the sand like I was born to tease.
And then came the first approach.
He was cute, early 30s, tall, surfer-built, with mirrored aviators and a cocky smile.
“Hey… sorry, you just look incredible,” he said, lingering on the words, unsure of what box to put me in.
I smiled sweetly, stretching a little so my bikini pulled even tighter. “Thanks. I love wearing this suit. Makes me feel… real.”
“You definitely had me fooled,” he said, his eyes darting between my face and my bikini line, where the MTF design did its magic. “Are you, like… trans or something?”
I nodded with a playful tilt of my head. “Something like that. Let’s just say I like to keep things smooth, tight, and sexy.”
He sat down next to me, practically panting, and soon he wasn’t the only one. Throughout the afternoon, I was approached by at least four other men—some just curious, some bold, some clearly turned on by my look. One guy even whispered, “That camel toe is insane… you look like a perfect little beach doll.”
By sunset, I had a small circle of admirers around my towel. We talked, flirted, and one of them even asked if I’d be down for drinks later. I felt like the center of the universe—all because I dared to show up exactly as I wanted to be: soft, femme, and unashamed.
That day was more than a beach trip. It was a coming-out party for the girl I always knew I was. And with that Koalaswim bikini giving me the perfect femme shape, I wasn’t just accepted—I was wanted.
Back at my place, I freshened up. My skin was sun-kissed, smooth and glistening. I chose a body-hugging, ultra-short spandex mini-dress—black and tight enough to show off the contour of my MTF camel toe just like the swimsuit did, only this time under something barely club-legal. No tucking necessary—the Koalaswim panties underneath gave me that perfect cleft, that soft V-shaped mystery. Add heels, gloss, and a spritz of perfume, and I was ready to play.
When I walked into the rooftop bar, heads turned just like they had at the beach. Eli spotted me first, nearly dropping his drink. Mateo’s jaw went slack. “Holy fuck,” he said as I slid onto the barstool between them, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately.
“I told you I like to feel sexy,” I purred, running a finger along my thigh.
They bought me drinks, and soon the conversation was dripping with innuendo. Hands brushed against my legs, lingering. Eli leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You know,” he murmured, “that little camel toe thing you’ve got going on… it’s driving me crazy. I’ve never wanted to touch someone so bad in my life.”
Mateo chimed in, whispering, “I kept watching you at the beach. You looked like a doll. A sexy, soft, dirty little beach doll.”
By the time we got back to Eli’s place, all pretense was gone. Their hands were all over me the second the door clicked shut. Mateo pulled up my dress, gasping when he saw how feminine I looked between my thighs. “This is insane,” he whispered, sinking to his knees to kiss along the edge of my panties. “You’re like… not even a guy. You’re something else. Something hotter.”
Eli was behind me, his hands gripping my hips, his mouth trailing kisses down my neck. “I want to worship you,” he growled. “You’re not just sexy… you’re irresistible.”
And that night, I was. Every inch of me—femme, smooth, spandex-wrapped and glowing—was exactly what I had dreamed of being: desired, adored, and completely, beautifully free.