Lana Rae and the Magic Wand

By Lyka Bloom

Lana Rae has spent years forging herself into a model of feminine beauty. A new treatment to enhance her femininity comes with an unexpected side effect - namely the ability to feminize her lovers!

Unaware of her new and hidden ability, Lana arranges a date with a fan who has admired the sexy shemale while fostering his own sissy fantasies. When he wakes to find his body changing into the object of his desires, he and Lana must find the cause of his condition and resist their urges to fall further into their taboo tryst, or Danielle may be left in the body of a woman forever! But, is that really so bad?

A new story from Lyka Bloom may be the steamiest yet! Filled with explicit scenes of shemale love and gender transformation, Lana Rae guides you into a world of a glamorous transgender sexpot and her willing victim!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lyka Bloom
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311635457

Lyka Bloom

Lyka Bloom writes various forms of fiction, but erotica has become a new passion. She preferstransformations and games of control, and enjoys exploring all the perverse kinks bubbling beneath the surface of sexuality.

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LANA RAE AND THE MAGIC WAND

by Lyka Bloom

LANA RAE AND THE MAGIC WAND

First Edition. May 11, 2015 at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2015 Lyka Bloom

Written by Lyka Bloom

www.LykaBloom.com

It is hard work looking this good, and don't let anyone tell you different. I have lotions and creams, professional waxing appointments, depilatories, lasering... and that's just for my skin. Then there's the surgeries, careful adjustments to get the look just right. So, add to the above scrapings and shavings, injections and implants, a nip here and a tuck there. Then there's the upkeep. Yoga, running, light weight training. All in service of becoming perfect in my own eyes. It doesn't help any that I was born with certain... challenges.

I have been Lana since I was fifteen. Prior to that, I was humiliatingly called Lawrence, named after my father. At the age of seven, I tried on my mother's stockings and shoes for the first time. By the age of twelve, I was sneaking into her drawers to wear her silky underwear under my jeans. At fourteen, I started buying my own things, thanks to an otherwise thankless job of mowing yards in my suburban neighborhood. Little did the homeowners know that the $20 bill they handed over to fresh-faced Lawrence was going towards makeup and underwear and heels so high they would have made my mother blush.

At fifteen, I came out to them, telling dear ol' mom and dad that I was not the son they had always perceived me to be, but was, instead, their daughter, only the biology got screwed up somewhere along the way. My mother was supportive, while pops freaked out, telling me if I wanted to romp around (his words) in women's clothing, I could do it somewhere else. With some money pilfered from her hidey-hole, my mother sent me on my way with a hug and five thousand dollars, making me promise to keep in touch.

I have kept that promise, and I'll be damned if mom still isn't my biggest cheerleader, though she's not necessarily the biggest fan of my chosen profession, but I'll get to that.

Putting home behind me, and the closed-minded hometown I'd known all my life with it, I set off for the city. I had a couple of advantages, now that I look back on it. I'd always been thin, and shorter than most of my classmates. Once I'd landed in a seedy little motel in the bad part of the city, I was free to let my hair grow long and dispose of all that hair that I'd had in my previous life. I took on the name Lana, and it wasn't long before I was more than passable.

My father, despite all his disapproval, had instilled in me a business sense that remained, no matter what gender I identified as, and I was able to stretch that five grand from my mother into the basis for my new lifestyle. I bought clothes and makeup and found that, even at my young age, there was a market for people like myself. At first, I was a model, and my fair skin and slim build made me a commodity. Once I was of age, I often accepted some of the more lavish sexual propositions, and I made a small fortune from wanton nights with men and women alike, all sharing a similar curiosity. What would it be like, they wondered, to be with a woman with that 'something extra,' code then and now for the meaty cock between my supple and hairless thighs.

As the money came in, I reinvested in myself, and the illicitly-bought hormones were replaced by