Andromimetophilia: arousal by females who impersonate malesDisclaimer:
All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.Summary:
After a fiasco in the Quidditch World Cup, Viktor decides to leave the wizarding world and try his luck with another job. Until he meets someone from the past.Warnings:
Hints at prostitution in general, some cross-dressing.Word Count:
Shamelessly based on the movie by the same name – or almost. Strangers in Paradise
is from Kismet
Many thanks to my beta, iamisaac
But open your angel's arms
To the stranger in paradise
And tell him
That he need be
A stranger no more
The final note carried throughout the night club; the singer, a tenor with a crystal clear tone, had opened his arms as he finished the song and crossed them over his chest as he received a standing ovation from the spectators. He bowed a few times in a very masculine way and then went backstage.
Ignoring the envious looks of the other singers who were about to enter the stage, he went straight inside his changing room and locked the door. Inside, he pulled the bow tie off his neck and threw it on the floor angrily. Then, instead of undressing, he waved his hand over his body and was suddenly naked. Another wave of hand and his dark, short hair grew in waves that fell down to his shoulders, the five o'clock shadow on his face disappeared, giving way to soft skin and his body was covered in a very sexy, strapless black dress that ended a few inches above his knees. The dress had a long slit on the left side, which opened to show a very shapely and feminine leg, the product of a well cast Charm.
And then the blasted spiked heel shoes, which made him – now her – even taller than normal. Muttering profanities in a very unladylike fashion, Viktor Krum – or, as he was known in this club, Viktoria – went out of his dressing room, back to the main floor of the club. He needed a stiff drink; besides, it was time to meet the audience, which was normally almost completely composed of women who preferred the company of other women, but who got very turned on at seeing a woman dressed as a man. ***
It was unfortunate that Viktor himself preferred the company of other men. And it was even more unfortunate that the only job he could get was of a woman impersonating a man at Café Les Garçons. Well, not the only
one – he was a very good wizard, and there were jobs aplenty in the Bulgarian Ministry, for instance, but, after the fiasco in the last World Cup, when he let the Snitch fall from his fingers straight into the Peruvian Seekers' hand, he wanted to be as far away from wizarding society as possible. And in the Muggle world, there weren't many openings for someone who'd been a Quidditch star and had a special talent for Charms. He'd looked far and wide and had finally ended up in London, where he saw the ad for a woman alto or tenor to sing at a club. The ad explicitly stated that men needed not apply.
He wasn't a woman, but... He had a very nice tenor voice, he could even reach the lower ranges of an alto, he needed a job - and he was a wizard, after all. He took time to transform himself into a woman, complete with drop-dead legs and cascading hair. He looked at himself in the mirror and practised walking back and forth on high heels. He frowned: he did look like a woman, but a rather manly one, he thought, more like a drag queen than actually female. His gait, too, was masculine, especially with the blasted high heels. There was no Charm that could take care of that, so he decided to brave it. It was an interview, and he hoped that he would sing well enough to land the job.
To his surprise, the club manager was ecstatic with his appearance, even more so than with his singing abilities. He was told he was hired, but he would have to dress as a man for the show. For a brief moment he considered telling the manager that he was indeed a man and would rather sing as one, but, before he could utter a single word, the manager told him that the women who came to the club preferred the more masculine type, but were definitely interested in women only.
"Are you a lesbian, too?" he asked Viktor, who almost blurted out that he was actually gay.
"Do I haff to haff sex vit dem?" he asked suspiciously. That
would be a hard thing to feign.
"No, unless you want to. I was just curious," the manager replied, before adding, "Your accent will be a plus, too; it's very exotic and sexy," he looked at the application form, "Viktoria, is it?"
Viktor nodded. "Viktoria Krumova."
"We'll advertise you as Count Viktor Grezinski! From Poland, an aristocrat who was forced to emigrate because of political reasons."
"I am from Bulgaria, not Poland," Viktor noted. "And there are no political reasons to emigrate any more."
The man was not listening to him. He had his eyes closed and was moving his hands emphatically, as if dreaming of a huge success. "You'll dress in a tuxedo during the act, and I bet you'll look just like a man then. They will swoon over you. And they'll come back in droves. And will spread the word. Congratulations, Count Grezinski. Come back tonight and you can start immediately."***
Viktor was applauded again as he entered the floor dressed as Viktoria. He gracefully nodded in thanks and sat down at his usual table, waiting for one of the women in the audience to come and keep him company and drink with him. That part was important, because Viktor got a share of all liquor sales, too. By now it was well known that Viktoria Krumova, AKA Count Viktor Grezinski, was a very friendly woman with an engaging conversation and a very sexy accent – but she was also unreachable. As she told anyone who wanted to hear, she had had a lover in Poland (sometimes, when she was a bit more drunk, the lover was Bulgarian, but no-one really cared, or maybe they were also too drunk to notice the difference in nationality). The lover, a ballerina, had died tragically, killed by a man who had pursued her relentlessly, not caring that she loved Viktoria.
Many women had offered to ease Viktoria's pain, but she turned them all down, dabbing at her eyes and declaring that she had foresworn love forever. It had worked: the women liked Viktoria and loved to talk to her, but they never insisted in trying anything else.
Safe, therefore, in the knowledge that he would not be sexually harassed, Viktor crossed his long legs and scouted the room, noticing the appraising looks he was getting. He was wondering who would be his drinking buddy that night, when he saw a rare sight. A rare and very welcome sight. A man, sipping a beer and looking straight at him.
Once in a while there was a man at Café Les Garçons, a heterosexual with a kink to see two lesbians in action. Viktor knew the type and stayed away from them. Of course he never accepted any invitation from those men, no matter the price they offered. He laughed privately at the fact that the men would have a heart attack if "Viktoria" were to undress in front of them.
But this man seemed a little different from that other kind. His look didn't have the lust he'd seen in the other men's eyes. It was an almost innocent look, as if the man was wondering what he was doing in a lesbian club. Viktor analyzed the man better: red-hair, broad shoulders, probably not very tall, but definitely strong. He looked a little familiar, and Viktor racked his brain to try to pinpoint where he'd seen that face before. He examined his drink absent-mindedly while he thought, but he felt that the man was still staring at him. He looked again at the man and smiled invitingly. The man smiled back and rose from his chair, walking toward Viktor's table.
"May I sit down?" he asked with a boyish smile.
Viktor nodded, answering in the voice that had been magically altered to be higher than his own, but still low and sultry. "Please."
"I'm Charlie Weasley," the man said.
Viktor froze. Of course, a Weasley. He remembered them well: this one was the dragon keeper, whom he'd met briefly a couple of times before – once during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament and then at Fleur's wedding. A wizard. Someone from his own world, the world he was trying to escape. "Viktoria Krumova," he said, shaking the hand that Charlie had offered.
There was a glint of recognition in Charlie's eyes, and Viktor regretted not having been more creative in choosing a female alias.
"Do you have a brother?" Charlie asked. "I...I know a Bulgarian man with a similar name. He's – or better, he was – a famous athlete."
A part of Viktor wanted to be mischievous and ask Charlie what kind of sport this man had played. He wanted to see how Charlie would get around mentioning Quidditch to a supposedly Muggle woman. But the conversation was getting too close for comfort, so he just shook his head. "Only child." Which was true. And, to change the uncomfortable conversation, he asked, "Vanna a drink?"
"Of course," Charlie answered quickly, but looking ill at ease. "What would you like?"
Normally Viktor would order the most expensive champagne, but for some reason he didn't want to gouge Charlie the way he did the other men; more importantly still, he was dying for a beer, just like the one Charlie was having. "Beer," he said.***
Charlie was very evasive as to what he did for a living and where he was from. Viktor was having a good time taunting him at first, trying hard not to laugh at Charlie's lies about his life, trying to pass as a Muggle. Viktor himself felt much more at ease talking about his own life, because it was all made up anyway.
After a few beers, though, the tone of the conversation changed substantially. Charlie was now sitting very close to Viktor, their arms brushing and their knees pressing against each other's. Viktor was getting very turned on, which presented a huge problem for him – how to hide an erection under a tight black dress. He was trying hard to think about very unsexy things, like visualizing the two women making out next to them having sex. It was working somewhat, until Charlie whispered in his ear, "Are you a lesbian?"
"No," Viktor answered curtly, and added, "I don't do shows, either. I...I like men."
Charlie kissed his jaw just under his earlobe. "Good. I like women who like men. Do you want to come with me to my hotel room?"
Viktor didn't want anything else, but he didn't know what to do. He had no idea what Charlie's reaction would be when he saw that, instead of a fanny, Viktor had a big cock – and that the breasts were fake, a product of the charm. But, on the other hand, he could
give Charlie the blow job of his life, even dressed in his skimpy black dress.
Besides, and maybe more pertinent to the matter at hand, he was starting to believe that Charlie didn't like women as much as he had claimed. It was one thing for men to come looking for lesbians in action at the club, but what kind of man came to a lesbian club to ogle women who dressed like men?
Maybe Charlie Weasley needed an eye opener. He stood up, hoping that his semi-erect cock didn't poke against the dress very much. "Let's go. To my flat."***
As soon as they got into the taxi, Charlie put his hand on Viktor's leg and kissed him hungrily. Viktor put his hand over Charlie's, to prevent him from moving further and finding something he didn't expect. And when they got out in front of the flat, Viktor kept a good distance between their bodies. He towered over Charlie, who obviously didn't mind having a female partner who was much taller.
Inside the flat, Viktor pushed Charlie onto the sofa impatiently and pulled his jeans and pants down his legs. Charlie's cock sprang free and Viktor took it in his mouth.
Charlie started muttering nonsensical words and gasping out loud and Viktor decided to try something, just to see if his theory about Charlie was right. With a quick wave of his hand, which went unnoticed by Charlie, his fingers got coated with an oily substance, and, lifting Charlie's leg, he inserted his middle finger inside Charlie's arsehole.
Charlie moaned out loud and said, "Yes, baby, just like that. More. More."
Viktor repressed a smile and inserted another finger. Charlie gasped and asked for even more. Viktor had much more to offer; it might be much more than Charlie was expecting, so he kept sucking Charlie off while deftly working his fingers inside, touching Charlie's prostate and receiving a loud cry of pleasure in return.
It didn't take long for Charlie to come. Viktor, of course, now had a huge problem in his hands, or rather, in his lower body. The dress was scrunched around his waist and the tip of his hard cock was peeking out of his pants. He had to go to the bathroom, and fast, to resolve his issue, and was wondering how he could beat a retreat without Charlie noticing anything, when Charlie, still panting, croaked, "Sweetheart, why don't you take your clothes off and let me give you head, too?"
The prospect of getting head from Charlie was very enticing, of course, but improbable. Viktor was sure now that Charlie was bisexual at least, but very possibly unaware that he was also attracted to men. He'd obviously been fingered before, because he hadn't been shocked when Viktor did it.
But Viktor wasn't in a position to belabor the issue, as his cock was painfully hard now. He decided to come out to Charlie – after all, the worst thing that could happen was that his cover as Viktoria would be blown, and he would have to look for another job. Which was fine: he was getting tired of this one anyway. So he stood up and watched as Charlie opened his eyes wide, fixing his stare on Viktor's crotch.
Viktor waved his hand and became his male self again, complete with his five o'clock shadow. "Viktor Krum, fellow vizard and former Quidditch star."
Charlie's mouth fell, but, to Viktor's pleasure, his limp cock started hardening again. "You gave me head," he said needlessly.
"And you liked it, a lot. And it looks like you vant it again," Viktor laughed.
"But I'm not gay," Charlie whispered unconvincingly.
"I beg to differ," Viktor retorted. "You vere asking for more. You like haffing something up your arse, don't you?"
Charlie pondered the question for a second, before nodding, looking defeated.
"So, do you vanna try...more?"
Without hesitation, Charlie nodded again.***
"Is this all, then?" Charlie asked, as Viktor finished packing his flat. A few boxes were piled on a corner.
"Yes. I don't need anything else. I'm leaving all of Viktoria's clothes for the club manager. He can use them."
"You won't need many clothes from now on," Charlie said, winking mischievously at Viktor.
"You plan to keep me naked, do you?"
"Well, not while you're on the camp. I don't want the other dragon keepers to ogle you, you know? But, in our tent..."
Viktor smiled and kissed Charlie. He was happy to go back to their own world, to be a wizard again, working as a dragon keeper with his lover of several months now. And happiest of all for never, ever having to wear those blasted spiked heels again.