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Subject: {ASSM} Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 11/17  TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc
Date: Mon,  1 Oct 2001 10:10:03 -0400
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Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 11/17  TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc

This is a tale about a married couple who try to meet each 
other's needs, and also their own.  What they think are each 
other's needs, that is.  What they think are their own.

It includes explicit sex scenes.  Married sex, mostly, gentle, 
loving, and appreciative, mostly.  If by reason of age, 
temperament, or moral principle you shouldn't or don't want 
to read about such things, think hard what to do about it, 
and you'll figure it out I'm sure.








                  Scenes from a Marriage
                      by Vickie Tern
                 
                    (vickietern@aol.com)   




                                11.

A week or so later Carl learned that he had been set up, that Maddy
had called each of the Garden Club membership before coming over,
told them what was happening, and cautioned them to treat it as the
most routine event imaginable.  But by the time he found out, it no
longer mattered, since for Carl pretending to be a girl had finally
become routine.  Carol wanted it, and FormFit insisted on it, and
everyone they knew had heard about it and seen it and gotten
accustomed to it.  More weeks passed.

Carl suggested that he back away from feminine presentation now and
then, wear some of his old male clothes again some of the time
anyhow.  But Carol was so delighted with her new Coral that she
wouldn't hear of it.  He was her new sister or daughter or doll!
The morning after the Garden Club's meeting she insisted
that Carl wear his bra, panties, and lipstick too to his FormFit
class, "A decent girl never leaves the house without at
least lipstick," was all she said when Carl told her that most
of the women didn't seem to bother.  "And besides, you promised."
And that was that.  

Soon Carl was checking and fixing his make-up a dozen times a day 
without even realizing it.  There were advantages.  With a dash of
lipstick and a few strokes of mascara, he was always presentable 
as a woman.  He'd never be identified and stared at as a weird man.

Carol insisted that he wear only women's clothes so he'd get
accustomed to them and wear them naturally, unself-consciously, the
way women do.  He diod.  At first he borrowed the things he needed 
from Carol, and under her direction he learned to dress
according to mood and occasion, as women do, delicate or bold, prim
or daring, whether for a pizza or a fine restaurant.  It began to
be fun!  Women's clothes required so much more creativity!  No
wonder they called them "outfits" and "costumes" and congratulated
each other on a striking ensemble or effect!  With a better idea 
what he needed, his shopping trips with Bea became guided 
expeditions they both enjoyed.

His moods swung to extremes sometimes, from sadness that Carol
didn't seem to appreciate his manhood, what little he had left of
it, to simple gratification that for whatever reasons Carol was
delighted with him.  Especially during that first week, until it
all felt natural.  That first week he also woke feeling a bit
nauseous each morning.  Thinking he might be coming down with
something, he told Carol, who assured him that it was only his
pills, that his nausea would end as his body accommodated to them. 
It did.  He got used to them too.  Whether it was the pills or the
novelty of his new life, Carl found he felt good about himself. 
Better than for a long time!  Seeing his smile each morning, so did
Carol.  By that smile, she knew she was doing the right thing!

His workouts at FormFit were varied and strenuous -- all of the
women were dripping with sweat by the time they finished their
sessions, soaked!  He loved it, the look, the smell of them, their
faces pink and glowing, their eyes dazed with fatigue, their chests
heaving, breathing deep as if recovering from sex.  He loved all of
it!  He sat over tea or fruit juice with some of the other girls
after class sometimes -- it was an odd privilege to sit at a little
table chatting in all propriety with women he'd just seen stark
naked.  He had a standing appointment at the salon to have his hair
set twice a week, curved rather than curled so it would frame his
head like a turban or a "toque," that was what Bea called it.  But
if it went curly some days that was OK too.

One day Carl overslept and missed a session at FormFit.  Two hours
later he was still in his nightgown and a housecoat when
the door chimes sounded.  It was that girl with the great rear end,
the one Carl always loved watching in motion, Sondra, wearing tights
with a bare midriff and huge hoop earrings dangling alongside her
tiny face.  She was about Carl's size, yet she seemed smaller, as
if staring up at him wistfully, helplessly.  She inquired in her
piccolo voice whether Carl was ill, or was it just his
monthlies?  She loved that touch of lace on his neckline, and was
there anything she could do to help him?  It seemed that Callista
had posted his picture just as she'd promised or threatened to do,
and Sondra lived just on the next street, wasn't that a remarkable
coincidence?  "You must come over and use our swimming pool now
that the weather's turned warm," she added.  "I'll bet you look
great in a swimsuit!"  

The whole time, Sondra's eyes never wavered from Carl's -- she was
one of those girls who was pert and cute, and knew it, and used it
for her own purposes.  He wondered if she was coming on to him in
some strange way, but decided she was just accustomed to coming on
that way to everyone.  He thanked her and told her she was so very
sweet, and reassured her that no, he'd be back working out with the
girls again tomorrow, he'd just felt like lying in this morning,
you know.  Sondra illuminated the doorway with an enormous smile --
she knew.   "Do drop by my place," she repeated.  "Lots of the girls 
from our exercise class do!"  As the door closed Carl knew that 
Callista had meant what she'd said.  FormFit was his morning activity,
and the girls werea tight community.  He'd never had a real choice.  

But now Sondra too was his special friend.  They chatted
while they did their Nautilus routines, and sometimes
they met for a light breakfast at Denny's before
beginning their workout.  Sondra called on him for help now and
then when her computer was misbehaving, and while he was there she
chattered constantly.  She always seemed to be changing her
outfits, from cutoff shorts to miniskirts to clingy tights, always
in front of him, talking away un-self-consciously.  He had plenty
of opportunity to notice that her rear end was as round and
enticing naked as it was when tucked into her leotard.  He was sure
she wore short shorts in order to expose the lower curves of her
luscious bottom to the world. 

She soon insisted on telling him all about the evenings, whole
nights sometimes when her husband was away, that she spent with
various men.  It strengthened her marriage to see them, she said, 
it compensated for a husband who was perfectly fine, really sweet,
but so very boring in bed!  "My guys, that's what I call them, they
all poke me in my behind!" she told Carl, marveling at the
uniformity of their desires.  "And I let them, because as I tell
them my pussy is my dear husband's, and no other man's, and I'm
faithful to my poor sweet dear.  But my asshole is all mine to use
any way I like!  No one ever said anything about it when we first
got married, there's no promise to forsake all others back there.  
So that's where my other men entertain me.  Have you ever?" 

Carl wasn't sure what she meant at first, but quickly realized she
meant had he ever admitted a man's prick into his backside.  He
told her no.

"Oh, you must!" Sondra exclaimed.  "You really must!  It's so 
strange at first, but it's so very satisfying, getting fucked back 
there!  Even a normal-sized man fills you up, and most men can't 
manage to do that in the other place, you know?  And the heavy 
swingers, well, my dear, you can't imagine what they're like 
once they're inside you!  I know now why gay men love it so much!  
Let me fix you up with a lovely man I know, he has the longest, 
thinnest dick you'll ever see, its just perfect for the first time!
Not too much strain and it takes him forever to slide all the way 
in and then out again!  You'll just love it!  Next Saturday?"

Carl declined.  He explained that his spouse wouldn't approve.

"Oh, some men are so old fashioned!"  Sondra was disappointed but
understood.  She thought Carl needlessly concerned.  How would her
spouse ever know?  Carl could so easily have it both ways!  

As the weeks passed he and Bea often went shopping together, and
when Carol got home Carl would show her his prizes -- she always
wanted him to try on each item, and she noticed how pleased he
was with each, increasingly week by week!   She approved his taste,
asked often about Bea, and finally pre-arranged an accidental
meeting of the three of them in a tea room.  They got on well. 
Carol and Bea agreed that their protegee Coral was dressing much more
stylishly now, she was much more attractive, and they agreed that
it was a great step forward for her to be voicing fashion opinions
of her own!  

It was true, Carl was!  Confronted by the need to choose a
different "costume" for different kinds of social occasions, Carl
on his own subscribed to several women's magazines, and when they
came in he read them carefully, cover to cover, advertisements and
all.  "I like knowing what I'm doing" he told Carol when she asked
him why so many.  That was what made him so effective
professionally too -- his firm gave him work he could do at home,
and he did it deftly.  Carl was pleased that different women were
plotting a more attractive look for him and a more variegated life. 
But increasingly he exercised his own ideas about how to look
attractive.  "I have to be my own woman!" he found himself saying.

A peculiar thought struck him one day as he glanced over a new
Cosmo.  Women dress to satisfy themselves and impress each other,
and most women's magazines understand this, but they also dress to
look attractive to men, and some specialize in this!  Article after
article in Cosmo was given over to teaching women how to look
seductive, of course, but what they were really talking about was
various ways for them to seduce men!  He learned to mimic that
behavior, discreetly of course, since that was what women do. 
Women enjoy harmless flirting, and even the most respectable women
enjoy wearing bikinis and tight clothes if they have the figures
for it.  They're proud to show that they can look sexy.  So Carl
felt a little pleased with himself that he too could look and
behave just a little bit sexy too.

He realized though that this was one way he remained apart from
other women.  "Other" women, he realized he had just thought. 
After a month or so, he couldn't tell the difference, and Carol
clearly didn't want to know that there was a difference.  He had no
desire to please men, nor to fantasize an attractiveness to men. 
In fact he knew that getting physically close to one of those hairy
things in an amorous way would be faintly repellent.  Should he try
to think the way a Cosmo girl thinks when she's dressing for a
date?  He didn't feel he was woman enough for that.  Though he was
delighted to be woman enough for Carol.

Bea and Carol began to see each other apart from Carl, and
regretted together that their new Coral wasn't more visible, that
she was a stay-at-home, that she wasn't flashing her figure and
turning heads downtown.  So a few times the three of them scheduled
shopping in the better downtown department stores, to reassure
Coral that she was as appropriately and fashionably dressed as any
other woman to be seen anywhere on the streets.  

Carl was uneasy about it, their first trip especially, fearing that 
they'd run into some of his old business associates.  This made for
problems, Carol realized.  He objected whenever they proposed such
trips.  Carol found though that if Carl quit his job and worked 
instead as an outsourced consultant, he'd have all the work he
could handle -- and Carol could send him work from her division
too.  So he did just that.  No more need to meet his former
associates as a woman one day and perhaps a man the next.  No more
need to be a man at all any more, Carol reminded him at breakfast
a month later, just before she went off to work.  That evening 
she packed his menswear for donation to the Salvation Army.
He watched wistfully as the big truck carried it all off.

But he no longer felt apprehension about some inevitable day when 
his office mates would identify Coral as Carl, be amused or
appalled, and mock him as pussywhipped or faggoty.   He was
pussywhipped, he knew that!  He just wanted to please Carol, the
one important person in his whole life!  

Carol meanwhile knew better.  It wasn't to please her, not at all, it
was that her Carl was a genuine pussy in his own right, that it was
his own femininity finally emerging!  Though his willingness to let 
it through was an act of submission that could reflect his love for
her.  Carol wanted no conflicting thoughts in her husband's head
as he shifted his identity over from Carl to Coral.  That
was why she saw to it that he was never not Coral.  Carl once asked
her why she wanted him feminine at all times, never allowing him to
wear even his women's tight blue jeans.  "So as not to confuse
anyone, including you" was her frank answer.   

Then there was another development.  One evening Bea called to
invite Carl to a movie with her, a chick flick with lots of weeping,
her husband would never understand it and didn't want to go, would
Coral?  Phone in hand, Carl asked Carol if he should.  

Go out with another woman?  They'd never gone anywhere separately
before!  Carol looked up and realized that this was a key moment in
their life together, a perfect opening wedge for all sorts of
things that must inevitably follow.  She commented carefully but
casually that there was no reason Coral shouldn't develop an
independent social life with her own friends, women did that, why
not?  Then she returned to the novel she was reading as if
altogether unconcerned.  

But as soon as Carl left the house, she got on the phone with Maddy
and they talked for a long time.  Maddy congratulated her, she'd
set a precedent.  This would free her for her own personal social
activities too, when she felt ready.  They discussed ways Carol
could press her advantage.  

A few days later when Carol had to work late on a quarterly report
for her division, a few women from the Garden Club called Carl to
propose a spontaneous girls' night out, dinner, a movie, and a
cappucino afterward, maybe a drink.  Carol urged Carl to go even
though she couldn't.  Carl did, and he enjoyed himself -- again it
was like old times, but this time he felt fully accepted, really
one of the girls.  He told Carol this and Carol was delighted. 
"Don't feel tied down to me, honey," she told him.  "Feel free! 
There's a whole new world out there for you!"

The next night Maddy invited them both to join her for drinks and
quiet chat, but Carol still had to finish her report.  Carl went. 
Maddy was all smiles.  She told Carl that he was obviously much
happier being a woman than he'd ever been as a man, and she'd
noticed that Carol was certainly happier.  Carl reluctantly agreed,
about Carol anyhow, though he confessed he liked belonging to the
communities of companionship women seem to form so easily.  Maddy
nodded, and told him he should seriously consider becoming a woman
for good when his health fully recovered, if only for Carol's
sake.  If he shifted back, he'd greatly disappoint her.  Probably
she'd feel guilty that in some way she'd failed him.  

At this Carl grew solemn.  He had no answer.  

"Think of it this way, Coral" Maddy told him in a firm, assured
voice.  "In some ways you two have been good for each other, but in
some ways you've been holding each other back.  You'd like to think
of yourselves as a couple, exclusive to each other.  But it's
better to be two friends who live together and enjoy each other's
company and lots of other people's company too.  Then each of you
can feel free to become most fully yourselves."

That wasn't Carl's idea of marriage, but he tried to respond
politely.  "I'll tell Carol you said that, and see what she
thinks," he said.  

"Oh, don't bother," Maddy said, delighted with the opening.  
"It's Carol who told me that.  Just thinking aloud, I'm sure.  But
as a man, haven't you been holding her back in some ways?  As a woman,
haven't you liberated her?  Carol hasn't had the heart to tell you,
so I'm telling you."

Carl stared at her and said nothing.

"And you yourself," Maddy said.  "I know Carol's the one woman in
your life, in fact she's been the only woman in your life.  Have
you ever considered including other women now that you're more comfy,
with them?  Real ones I mean, not pictures in magazines?"

Carl looked down, but still said nothing.  Then looked up and said
solemnly, "I'm true to Carol.  I took a vow."

"Yes, I know.  A declaration of intentions at the time.  But are
you true to her from principle, or is it just from shyness, 
inexperience maybe?  Whatever, you are certainly holding Carol back ."

"From what?"  Carl began to feel antagonistic.  Also alarmed.

"From other experiences, the fullness and richness life provides,
maybe?  Let me put it this way.  She's known other men, she knows
what she's missing.  You've known only one woman, and you live as
a woman now.  As Carol sees it, she lives with a woman.  But that's
not fair and equal.  Shouldn't you be going with a man?  Or
shouldn't she?  That's not forbidden by your vow."

Carl was appalled.  He said nothing!

"Carl, let me assure you," Maddy said, walking him toward the door. 
"For a woman, a man can be quite something!  For Carol or for you! 
Think about it!"  That'll put a bee in his bonnet, she said to
herself, amused.   Or get the other bees buzzing!

That night when he and Carol were undressing for bed, he found he
didn't have the heart to ask her if he was holding her back, if
that was what she now believed.  She sat on the edge of the bed and
smiled at him and spread her legs, and as was now his nightly
custom, still in his bra and panties he knelt silently between her
knees to lick her.  She didn't feel like a fuck that night, she
then told him.  "Since you love kleenex, sweetie, come make love to
some instead, but this time with my blessing."  She held up a
handful, and as he watched unhappily she wrapped it around his dick
and massaged him gently until finally he spurted into it.  "Open
wide," she said smiling, and she stuffed the soaked tissues into
his mouth.  "Maybe the best way will be to suck these until they
disintegrate, then  swallow them down," she said.  "Little by little,
no hurry, baby!"  That done, she turned to snuggle her rear into 
him and go to sleep.  

He wasn't consoled that the whole time she was considerate,
warm, even friendly.  Not really loving, though -- she seemed
instead to be a little bit amused by his need.  He wished that
they'd coupled.

Other women from FormFit rang Carl up now and then and carried
him off to movies or gallery openings.  He had a regular
after-session shopping and luncheon date with Bea on Wednesdays. 
Sondra took him to hear a hot new group playing at a gay bar, then
took him there again a few times more, because there they could
drink and dance without anyone hitting on them.  "Though remember
what I told you about opening your back door to strangers," she
said.  "Nothing in any marriage contract I ever saw says you can't
do that!"   

Carl now felt like only one more female face in the crowd.  Carol
seemed to be working or uninterested in diversion much of the time, 
and Carl's new friends were importunate.  So, though at first he'd 
felt uneasy, Carl began to feel that going out on the town with other
women and not with his wife was an ordinary event.  As Carol
herself repeated, there was no reason he shouldn't have his friends
and she shouldn't have hers.  

True to her word, a few weeks later Carol also began going out
evenings without him, sometimes offering only the vaguest of
explanations.  Carl no longer felt he had a right to inquire, but
he worried when she came home late.  He noticed that once she
arrived back after midnight with her face a little flushed and her
hair a little tousled, saying nothing.  In fact she'd been at
Maddy's and had frazzled herself deliberately at Maddy's suggestion
just before returning home, to accustom Carl to it.  Nothing had
happened, and Carol still hadn't decided if anything would ever
happen, yet.  But the next day she told Carl she'd gone to a bar
with two girlfriends, and there'd been men there who were rather
insistent, and one had gotten a little physical before the
bartender could intervene.  Carl felt angry but helpless, Carol saw
with satisfaction.  

She went off without him every few days, sometimes with one of
their friends come to call, sometimes leaving the house with a bare
comment that she wouldn't be out too late.  Or she might be out
rather late.  Carl just sat at home repairing his nails after their
day's clatter at his computer, washing and setting his hair on days
when the salon at FormFit didn't, wondering why she didn't ask him
to come along.  "Doing things, different things, you know" was all
she'd answer when he asked where she'd been.  She always smiled
warmly at him when she left and smiled even more warmly, even
affectionately, when she returned, so whatever she did, it wasn't
threatening to their relationship, he assumed.  Apparently she came
back pleased with herself for reasons he couldn't fathom, and
wanted him to share that pleasure.  But she never quizzed him about
his own afternoons or nights out without her, so he didn't feel he
could quiz her.  They were as affectionate as ever in bed, and
often they went out together just as before.  But often not.
 
When the two did go out together or invite anyone in, it was
usually Carol's women friends.  They now felt comfortable with Carl
being a woman, one of them, no problem.  Yet when they brought their
husbands along it was obvious that the husbands knew nothing about
Coral's prior history.  Coral to them was the woman who lived with
Carol.  So it was Carl who felt uncomfortable as the men made
polite, chivalrous social conversation with him, occasionally
flirting with him by way of a compliment.  He'd never had guy
friendships, and this kind of relating to males was altogether
unfamiliar.  Especially responding to their flirtatious mannerisms!

"Just flirt back," was Carol's laconic reply when they'd invited
three such couples to their own home for a small dinner party, and
Carl mentioned that talking with other men nowadays was difficult
for him. "You don't mean 'other men' anyhow.  Maybe that's your
problem.  You aren't a man any more, baby, you're a woman.  So be
a woman with them!  Watch me and do what I do!" 

Her tone was so matter-of-fact he let it pass.  She'd meant it as
a compliment, that he was no longer a man in her eyes.  In some
ways she was right.  Look how he was dressed!

He persisted.  "I still don't feel quite right talking to guys,
Carol.  What can I say to them?  Talk sports, like before?  I don't
dare, it could give me away!  And that would embarrass both of us."

"Oh, honey, every girl learns that kind of thing long before she's
out of her teens!  Don't your magazines tell you?  Don't you read
the 'Tips on Dating' columns and the "Turn him on, turn him off"
articles?"

"Maybe.  Some."  Carl was ashamed to admit that he did read them
fascinated by the trade secrets they revealed one after another. 
"I know what's in them, all the girls I knew in high school used to
talk about them.  They all advise a girl to stare wide-eyed at a
man and ask him what he does, what he's good at, and then ask him
more questions, how he feels about it.  Tell him it all sounds so
exciting, and ask what was his most thrilling moment, and his most
scary, and so on.  Whatever he answers, sound fascinated.  And they
tell you to wriggle your hips just a little as you tell him it's
all so very fascinating, as if you were getting off on it."  

"That sounds about right.  So do it.  Flirt back, just a little. 
Can you do that, lover?  What you just described?  Hips and all?"

"Yes.  Sometimes I do just that."  

"Well then, do just that.  And use your eyes and hands too.  And
when you dance with a man, try a little innuendo, a little racy
conversation."

"Carol!  I can't dance with a man!!"

"Sweetheart, it's gonna happen!  You're getting there!  You're
looking more feminine every day, your figure is filling in, and
you're softening in your appearance.  Men are going to take an
interest!  Before too much longer if you dance close with a man and
he presses his body against yours he'll never be able to guess what
you once were!  He might even be quite pleased!  Maybe you too!"  

Carol smiled, inviting Carl to share her amusement at the thought,
as if she were teasing.

"Carol!  That's quite enough!"  Carl was horrified!  His stomach
turned.  And whatever did she mean by 'before too much longer'?  

Carol saw the alarm in his eye, realized she'd gone too far again, 
and retreated.  "I'm sorry, honey, I was just joking.  But that's what
to do when men get playful with you.  Some men don't know how to be
anything else with a woman.  And they do think you're a woman,
remember!"  

So she gave him a few useful hints she'd cribbed once from a "Good
Housekeeping" column advising women how to be delightful hostesses. 
Carl felt more comfortable being gracious instead of flirtatious,
and from then on their dinner parties with couples went off without
incident.  He came to enjoy them in fact.  It was justification of
sorts to be able to talk animatedly with men after all the years
when no man would have anything to do with him.  Now they were
trying to impress him!  After a while he took to staring into their
eyes and wriggling his hips whenever he asked them to talk about
themselves.  It became habitual.

Husbands sometimes mentioned Coral's provocative moves to their
wives, and their wives then mentioned them to Carol.  They were
unsure what her husband, or rather her new live-in girlfriend,
might mean by  them.  Was Carl actually getting interested in men? 

"Oh, it's all harmless," Carol reassured them.  "I'm sure!  At
least," she'd add wickedly, "It has been so far!"  



end 11/17

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