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Subject: {ASSM} New TG: Cute, 6/10 by Vickie Tern M/F m/F M/m F/F etc. Femdom too.
Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 08:10:19 -0400
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New TG: Cute, 6/10 by Vickie Tern M/F m/F M/m F/F etc. Femdom too.
The sex in this story is sometimes heavy and explicit, though not
cruel, so you may not wish to read it. If you shouldn't
read it because you're underaged or overly judgemental, don't.
All comments welcome: VickieTern@AOL.COM
(c) 2000 by Vickie Tern. May be freely reposted, but only on
free archives.
vi.
Finally he caught on that his body was changing radically, and he
had to be told about his hormonal regimen. One Saturday Laurie
called to me from the bedroom rather frightened. That morning he'd
been planning to do some gardening wearing only an old T-Shirt, and
when he put it on he was dismayed to find that it was no longer
possible. He had two distinct lumps on his chest. Did I think our
breast play was responsible, that it was malforming him?
Time to let him know more. "Finish dressing," I said. "It's
Saturday, so it's an all-girl day, remember. When you look nice,
come down and we'll have coffee and talk."
Katie, I was so pleased with what I'd done when he came into the
kitchen! His clothes were just jeans and a T-Shirt, but they were
Donna Karen jeans, smooth-fitting on his hips and thighs and
pencil-thin at the ankle. With strappy sandals. And his hair was
pulled back from his face in a high pony tail held with a velvet
scrunchie. And he'd put on light make-up as usual, just a touch of
color on his lips and darkening around his eyes. He was a girl!
But he was also a girl in the smooth way he moved. He had no idea
how successfully he'd been imitating other women as I always urged
him, sitting in gracious, elegant ease as if his posture was only
one more layer of feminine clothing! He moved with smooth
fluidity, as if pouring himself from place to place.
Carla had told me only a few days earlier that at the office he was
now unmistakeably a woman in everyone's eyes but his own, that his
men clients said nothing but that a woman client had commented on
it -- that he was still as shrewd as ever but much nicer. 'Even
the way he moves is so sweet,' she'd said. She'd added that she
preferred him that way. And Carla had added. "You're doing such
a good job with him, Angela! But it is getting to be time for him
to commit to it completely!"
He sat down and daintily began to butter his toast. So I spoke
quietly to him, now woman to woman.
"When you look into the mirror these days, Laurie honey, what do
you see?"
"I see me, Angela. Of course it's that other version of me you've
been trying to bring out."
"The woman in you?"
"You could say that, yes."
"You like being that woman, baby?"
"Yes, I do. It's in some ways wonderful. A whole new way to look
at the world. All sorts of new things to think and feel and learn!
I feel so much more ... well, alive! And certainly more
well-rounded than when I was only a man. I don't know why everyone
doesn't do this now and then!"
"Not everyone has your talent for it, sweetheart. Didn't you once
say you began young with your mother's clothes? That even then you
wanted to feel things she felt? Well, your body is catching up to
your feelings, that's all. You are getting more well-rounded. And
softer, too. You're becoming more of a girl every day. I've been
seeing it happen for months now."
"Angela, when I pretend I'm a girl, that doesn't make me a girl.
Does it?"
"You're no longer pretending, baby."
"Well, maybe. But what we do mornings -- I love it, but how can it
be giving me breasts? Breasts aren't muscles that grow when
they're exercised!" He grinned sheepishly. "It's true that when
you make love to me at night and I stretch my thighs out wide to
welcome you into me, my hips and legs do get quite a workout. I've
thought that's maybe why these Donna Karens fit me so perfectly
now, when they didn't earlier. And why my suits don't fit me at
all any more. I'm much wider in the hips!"
"I love the way they look on you."
"So do I, sweetheart. But why am I growing breasts? Am I becoming
a woman somehow?
"Yes, darling"
"I am?"
"On the inside, yes.
"I mean on the outside!"
We'd arrived. I poured us both coffee, and I leaned forward to
stare him straight in the eyes, so he'd know I meant what I said.
Also so he'd feel a little intimidated. Carla had taught me that
trick. Then I started talking.
"On the outside too. Baby, our breast play is your reward for
becoming my girl. It isn't the cause. I've wanted you to have
bigger breasts for a long time now. And so have you. You've
envied mine and said so, and you've asked for your own, over and
over. Every day, almost! You know you have!"
He opened his mouth -- his pretty red lips, I noted absently. Then
closed them and waited for more.
I told him how delighted I was to oblige him. My licking and
sucking of his teeny nipples always transported him into such
ecstasies. And mine were bigger, and brought me even greater
pleasure, and he was always comparing his own puny titties with my
generous nipples and full breasts, so how could I deny him?
Especially when I was being his man. Then especially I wanted him
to have big tits. For his own pleasure, but also for me to kiss,
to fondle. Men love big tits!
So of course I'd made arrangements. To adjust his body. Because
I love him! Since he was spending so much time as a woman now, I
added, he should enjoy a woman's most wonderful advantages. And
there were other advantages too, I told him. I left them unstated.
"Now let me see," I said softly. I'd seen them during our
titty-culture session not an hour earlier, but now I had different
purposes.
He pulled off his T-shirt. Then he unhooked his bra, and I saw.
We both inspected his swollen and sore nipples in silence. They
were already larger than mine. And they were the tips of two
distinct cones already emerging from his chest. He looked down at
them. Then he looked back up at me, looking for something more to
say. There was nothing.
"If you want to have wonderful mornings like the ones we've been
having," I told him quietly but firmly, "then you'll have to grow
yourself some really big boobs to keep me interested. They're
under way, I see. That's good! But they aren't there yet!" And
I looked at him with a warning expression, so he'd know I was
serious.
He hesitated. I continued. Now to use the word.
"We're both getting exactly what we want. You're on female
hormones is all. That's why it's happening. Right now your
bloodstream is carrying them to all parts of your body, the way it
does in teenage girls as they develop. So you can develop into an
authentic woman. Because I want you to feel open to more of the
experiences and feelings women have. You already love what you
know. I want you to know more, that's all. I want many more of
these wonderful mornings with you! But only if you agree to keep
growing into your womanhood. You can decide!"
He did. Almost at once. Of course he decided to keep going. He
told me that he didn't want to give up our mornings, that playing
at being a girl was fun -- he'd done it at first because I wanted
it, but now he had his own reasons -- it was so fascinating, being
a woman with other women. So much warmer, nicer, more relaxing!
Even though men were a problem, the way some of them behave when
they get near a woman. He trusted, he *knew* I wanted the best for
him, and he smiled at me.
And then he asked for more coffee.
And, Katie that was all there was to it! He never even asked me
how I'd gotten those hormones into him. That afternoon we went
shopping for a few more bras together, now that he really needed
them, and he tried on a few before deciding which were really
"him".
I thought they all looked lovely. He agreed. I pointed out that
while we were there he should get his ears pierced, it would allow
him to select whatever he liked of my dainty ear rings when he went
out, instead of his own clunky clip-ons. He agreed. Then Monday
morning he discovered that he had to wear the little gold studs in
his earlobes at all times, even to his office, until the holes
healed. I assured him they were no more than many men wore, and
again phoned Carla to forewarn her after he'd left the house. Five
days later he was wearing my delicate hoops, and one morning a week
after that I handed him a pair of pretty pearl pendants to go with
his gray suit. He had no idea they were purely feminine jewelry.
I certainly said nothing.
A month later his B cup bras were straining to contain themselves.
I knew that the C cups he needed would effectively end his life as
a man. Even a minimizer bra could never hide those breasts.
Finally it was time for my Laurie to change over altogether.
I watched him one morning as he caught his enlarged mounds into his
first C cup bra and fastened it behind. And then tried on a white
dress shirt, then a striped one, only to discover that even if his
bra lines were covered, still, he bulged far out in front. Men's
shirts are not cut to cover breasts. His seemed positively
matronly, sloping way out from his shoulders to the tips of his
extended breasts, then ballooning down to be tucked into his waist.
"That won't do," I said as he reached the same conclusion, staring
at himself in the mirror. "Maybe try an oversized flannel shirt,
Laurie?"
"Not dressy enough." he said, perplexed what to do. "I try to set
an example so my staff will dress up, not down, even without a
dress code."
"And what do they wear?"
"Dresses, mostly. Dress suits. Skirts with sweater sets."
"Well, Laurie?"
He looked at me. I could see he understood me, but the enormity of
what I was suggesting was overloading his thought processes.
"Set them an example, sweetheart. That's all. And look at you!
Do you have a choice?"
"Angela! Are you suggesting that now I dress all the time as a
woman? Give up my manhood altogether?"
I smiled at him as warmly, as reassuringly, as lovingly as I could,
but with my eyebrows arched in challenge. "Laurie, sweetheart,
your manhood is in the way you feel, not in the way you look. I'm
not suggesting anything. But what's left for you to give up?"
He just looked at me. Without even realizing it perhaps, he
reached up to his breasts and hefted them to settle them better
into his new bra. Then he looked down at his swollen shirt front.
"You gave up your manhood to me months ago, lover," I reminded
him. "You're my woman now at home, in bed, and on weekends
everywhere. My girlfriend. Your own sister. Isn't it time you
gave up this pretense that you're still a man? Think how much
simpler it would be if you stopped trying to live two lives. Just
be yourself!"
He stared into the mirror, his expression a little mournful.
Looking for a person he once knew who was no longer there?
"Try a plain white silk blouse and that charcoal pants suit you
bought yourself a few weeks ago at Stutson's. You've been waiting
for an occasion to wear it."
"That's right, I have been. But how do I explain this to
everybody."
"Oh, just tell Carla I thought you'd enjoy it, and I wanted you to
try it, so you did, and now you prefer it. She's noticed the
changes in you before now. She'll take care of the rest."
Katie, there we were! It was settled! Done! I was now married to
a woman! Oh, there was still a lot of residual male in him, but we
were over the hump with a few months to spare. Time enough for
other things my sweetheart needed to learn about his new gender
too. He looked quite lovely when he went in to work that day --
that suit really flattered his slim figure! I reminded him that
now he needed to wear more formal daytime make-up, especially
around the eyes, and to put up his hair more carefully -- to look
soignee in fact. He seemed to welcome the need! He really got
into it, and even began humming to himself! It was as if some
great burden had lifted from his heart.
When he got home that night, I asked him how it went.
"They were all enthusiastic," he said, a bit wonderingly. "They
said they'd seen it coming for some time, ever since I came in that
day wearing pink nailpolish. Then they took me to lunch. Carla
and the other three women too. And they made me promise to have
lunch with them every day this week, to tell them all about it, and
also so they could tell me all about themselves. Things they'd
never tell a man!"
"Was it interesting, Laurie?" I sounded casual, but I already knew
where this conversation was going. Carla and I had plotted it, and
she'd called me that afternoon to report back. "The five of you
together at lunch? You all made girl talk?"
"Yes."
"What about?"
"What do young women talk about? Make-up, I picked up a few tips.
Boy friends. They asked me if I had one, and I reminded them that
I was married, and Carla it was, I remember, Carla said 'That
doesn't stop lots of women from having boy friends.'"
"You knew that already, didn't you, from those Ladies' room
conversations with your friends' wives. So what then?"
Now his face turned serious. "There's a problem, Angela. Carla
told me that her boy friend has a friend coming in from out of town
this Friday, and she promised to find him a date so they could all
go dancing together! She thought I might ...."
"Laurie! You didn't! You're the date?"
"I don't remember how, but I am, I'm afraid! I was just smiling
and nodding, trying to sound understanding, and the next thing I
heard is they'll call for me at 8:00 pm here! Angela, you've got
to help me out of this! I'm your husband! I can't date a man!"
I turned abrupt. "Laurie, don't you dare! Disappoint Carla, who's
been loyal to you for years and years? Of course you'll do it!
It's only a date, for goodness sake, a drink and a few dances."
And I smiled at him and hugged him, so he wouldn't feel guilty.
"It'll be an experience! Maybe you'll learn something. It'll
certainly broaden your experience as a woman! Maybe it'll be good
for both of us!"
We went out for dinner that night, Laurie feeling much more
confident in his familiar role as my girlfriend. Because now he
was just that! And purveyer of the gossip he'd picked up from
other women, in this case from his office staff. I half listened,
because it had occurred to me that I'd neglected a crucial element
of my darling's education. He knew how to chat with women but not
really how to tease men, nor much about flirting with them. So we
talked and joked a lot about flirting all the rest of that week,
because that's what his staff happened to talk about at lunch all
that week. Carla saw to it. He had fun showing me what the girls
had taught him, batting his baby blues at me, looking sideways at
me, and sizing me up slowly and provocatively from my toes to the
top of my head the way some women will. I asked Carla not to
discuss at lunch how women fend men off, I'd just as soon he not
know those tricks just yet. She understood that immediately too,
and told me not to worry one bit!
Then that night when I reamed his ass, instead of using Premarin
cream as a lubricant I used saliva. His own saliva. Lots of it,
because before we even got to bed together, I sat myself regally in
a chair and insisted that he earn his first fucking by proving he
was worth the effort by giving me a thorough blow job. We hadn't
done it since that first time, not seriously. But he was going on
a date with a man! Who knows?
Katie, he did try! It was so funny! I told him to kiss the tip,
first tenderly, then passionately. Then to lick my dildo on its
underside while running his lips as far down the shaft as they'd
go, and to pull gently on the base while sucking. To cover his
teeth. You know, simple things every high school sophomore needs
to know if she's ever to graduate. And he did it pretty well, my
subby hubby! He had a natural talent!
Then I stood up and insisted he give me another blow job, also on
his knees, and he did that, even more acceptably this time. I even
had a small orgasm as he tugged at my prick. I told him to worship
my cock gratefully this time, this was after all the thing that
gave both of us so much pleasure together in bed. Then as I
pretended to climax I rewarded him with a squirt or two of fresh
pee from my balls, and told him to swallow. And told him to feel
grateful for that too -- that was his reward for giving me so much
pleasure.
I think he knew what it was the second time around, but he didn't
say anything. I just stood there and looked down on him, there
below me on his knees in front of my crotch, my huge erection still
bobbing in his face. And he looked up at me with a worried,
anxious expression, I suppose hoping he'd satisfied me somehow, but
also wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into. And I smiled
down on him reassuringly, my brand new cocksucker-in-training
husband, my former husband, my sweet girl friend, wondering why I
hadn't thought of this months earlier.
Oh yes, since he'd be expected to dance, I also danced a few rounds
with him to give him some practice dancing in the girl's role. He
caught on quickly enough. But that didn't seem to be as important.
-----------
end 6/10 This story can be found in it's entirety at www.go.to/furysaga
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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