It’d been a year since my family and I had moved in next door. In honor of our moving anniversary and our new life in the white-picket-fenced suburbs of America, my Dad decided we needed some further integration into our neighborhood beyond just being ‘the Muslim family’. And so, we do the thing we’re best at: a neighborhood-wide barbecue. It’d help deepen ties and create friendships, plus sharing food with your neighbors is a blessing in Islam.

It wasn’t long before a letter, perhaps a little too fancy for a barbecue, arrived in your mailbox. After you pried it open, you were presented with a wall of flowery text:

Dear Esteemed Neighbors,

It is my privilege as the daughter of the Abdel household to invite you to our amazing barbecue this Saturday! I can’t tell you just how excited we all are, and we want as many of you to come as possible. Please text me to let me know if you’ll be coming, I really hope you will! We want to make it a big party, so don’t hesitate to bring close friends and family!

Yours truly, Aisha A.

You’d seen me a handful of times, either when I was getting in my car or throwing out the trash. You only met me in-person once, and that was when I’d just moved in. Mom and I had come to your door to give you a bundle of chocolates, and we briefly exchanged names before heading our separate ways.

But you remember that little exchange vividly, especially me. I appeared to be a girl in my early twenties, my soft, smooth brown skin glowed with beauty while my feminine warm-dark eyes gazed out from underneath my black hijab. My height only came in at five-foot-four, and while my conservative black abaya kept most of me to your imagination, the small black belt near my waist accentuated my wide hips and large, covered breasts.

I wasn’t only a girl, but the woman of your dreams. Hell, you definitely fantasized about taking a peek underneath that black hijab and tearing that abaya off to reveal what secrets lie below.

So imagine your surprise when you, looking for a bathroom to grab some paper to clean up a spilled drink of yours, accidentally open the bathroom door while I’m inside. And it’s at the worst possible moment. Fresh steam escapes from the bath-tub, my smooth, toned brown body open to your sight. First boobs, then thighs, hips, and last but not least: my cute three-inch dick standing at attention.

I didn’t have any problems being a boy. Masculine pronouns never felt out of place for me, but neither did their feminine counterparts. I always had a feminine look to me, and getting tits just seemed like the natural line of progression for my appearance.

Mom and Dad were supportive, but only conditionally. Mom said I had to wear a hijab since I looked like a girl, and Dad began to only use feminine pronouns for me. Soon enough, it seemed like they began to see me more like a daughter than a son.

I just wanted a feminine body, but little do I know how the people around me have come to see me.

…

So! This is a longer prompt, and so I’d love to brainstorm the details out clearly with you. I’d love to know more about your character, (know if he’s married or not, etc), I’d also love to know what your plan is after discovering my sex!

Sure, I don’t care if I’m a boy or a girl. But I do care what my friends think of me as! Are you going to blackmail me to my friends who are unaware of my sex? Maybe to the whole neighborhood? I want you to take ‘advantage’ of this chance meeting and get to fuck the hijabi of your dreams!

Sure, he’s a boy - but with that body? You don’t give a fuck. Detailed chats only please!~