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Subject: {ASSM} Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 13/17  TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc
Date: Mon,  1 Oct 2001 11:10:02 -0400
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Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 13/17  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)   




                              13.

So hesitantly at first, Carol took the first step.  She proposed to
Carl that he try using a dildo to satisfy her.  

Carl was deeply disturbed by the idea.  In fact he was plunged into
despondency.  He was already unhappy that the only penile pleasure
he got any more was from her mouth, and also unhappy that the only
genital pleasure he could give her these days was from his mouth. 
A dildo seemed a capitulation to his incapacity, a confession that
their marriage had failed.  A second hand substitute for the real
thing.

"Oh, no baby!" Carol cried, leaping to comfort him.  "It would
prove that we want to satisfy each other's deepest needs, and it
would help us do just that, that's all!"  But she was thinking even
as she said it that he was right, their marriage had in fact
failed, or nearly so.  It wasn't her fault -- she wasn't the one
who wanted to become a woman, he was.  And he couldn't help it! 
It was a fundamental -- if not exactly common -- incompatability.  
But still, they needed to do something!  She needed a man, and he
needed to learn about men!  Finally, between kisses, when her soft
mouth was wrapped snug around his soft penis and she was sucking
sweetly on it, he agreed to try using a dildo on her.  She felt
relieved.  It was a beginning.  She knew how she hoped it would
end.

She brought one home, huge, an excellent replica of a prizewinning
cock, made of soft rubber, hollow so it could be pre-heated and
filled with a sperm-like fluid for squirting when the time came 
-- the booklet recommended warmed Gatorade or thinned, lightly 
salted yogurt if it was to be swallowed afterward, hair conditioner
if not.  Carl strapped it on and then used it to hump her after 
his usual preliminary session with his face between her legs, 
feeling vaguely the whole time that he was encouraging his own rival 
to fuck Carol, guiding someone else's cock into his own wife's pussy.
Carol insisted that it be loaded with the yogurt mixture.  "I want 
you to enjoy what I enjoy!" she told him.

But that cock worked as his never had, he had to admit it.  The
experiment was altogether successful!  Carol hadn't expected the
feeling at all, but as soon as that fat, veined tube stretched her
lower lips open and pushed deep into her, as soon as her vagina was
distended, stuffed to the brim with it for its entire length, when
finally Carl's crotch was pressed tight against hers, she felt a
strange quivering in her pussy.  Then she came!  Shuddering,
glorious!  Even before Carl had begun to fuck her, she'd reached a
climax!  

Then when he backed off and pushed in again only once, she came
again!  Then yet again!  An orgasm with each thrust?  Did size
matter after all?  Had she been that deprived since her marriage? 
Was this why she was always recalling the well-hung boys she'd
fucked before she'd met Carl whenever she was astride him?  Yet
even they were nothing like this!  

Carol immediately fell in love with that dildo!  It was as if she
were having sex with someone else with Carl's cooperation and
blessing!  

Carl felt that way too, unhappily, but what could he do?  He was 
glad that Carol was enjoying herself, and he paced his thrusting 
accordingly.  But when eventually she tensed for yet another 
orgasm -- how many already? -- with no sign of slackening, 
his abdominal muscles began to feel weary.  He was feeling nothing 
himself of course.  "Enough?" he asked her a little plaintively.

No.  She felt sorry for him but she wanted more!  To prolong her
pleasure she rolled over onto him and began to ride him as she'd
once ridden his real cock, wildly, passionately, furiously, as if
astride a tireless stud!  Utterly stuffed, crammed full, she came
yet again!  Carl tried to help her celebrate her joy as best he
could, thrusting up at her, and this time squirting the warm 
yogurt mix into her,  The dildo's cum flooded her, and she 
understood that Carl had at last spent himself.  But not joyously.
As she recovered her breath and looked down, she sensed that his 
closed eyes hid a growing melancholy.  

Carl was unhappy.  He knew now that she loved this dildo more than
she'd ever loved his cock, that was obvious.  And he knew that this
superior substitute for himself was now all he could offer her!  He
felt both inadequate and rejected.  Sad, sad, sad.  It showed on
his face.

Carol read his expression differently.  She took it as further
evidence that Coral was essentially a woman.  A man would never
weary of performing this office, fucking a woman, bringing her
paroxysm after paroxysm of delight!  But a woman would weary of it! 
A woman would want her turn too!  

She was being selfish, Carol realized, hogging that dildo for
herself.  She'd forgotten for the moment why she'd gotten it.  For
Carl!  So Carl could learn to enjoy being a woman!  It was Carl's
turn to get fucked!  

No problem!  The dildo was still dripping, with her fluids and 
its own.  It was as slick and slippery as it would ever get!

"Hand it over, Coral," she said to him.  "Unstrap it!"

Carl thought that having taken her fill, she was through.  Unable
to look her in the eye, somehow betrayed by this piece of
artificial man, suspecting he'd just participated in his own
cuckolding, he watched surprised as -- still between his legs --
she buckled it onto herself.

"Put a pillow under your butt and lift your knees up high, honey,"
she said.  "It's your turn!"

Carl was suddenly frightened, down into the pit of his stomach.  It
was one thing to listen to Sondra encourage him to open his back
door to new experiences, but it was another actually to do it. 
Even when sanctified by marriage!  

But Carol felt confident, sure of herself.  It's a good thing
there were pictures in the store where I bought this, she thought
as she slid down and waited for him to obey her, those pictures
showing how gay men and women use these things.  And some married
couples!  "Put your legs over my shoulders!"  Maybe next time I'll
do my man doggy style, Carol thought, the way that woman did it to
a man in one of those photographs.  But I do want to see his sweet
face now, his expression at the very moment he loses his cherry!  

She did.  She saw it all.  Apprehension as the huge rubber knob
touched his anus, bewilderment when it failed to enter, pain as it
slid in part way, a mixture of pain and wild expectation as he began
feeling sensations unlike any other he'd known, filled full, full. 
Then as he closed his eyes she saw he'd come to feel pleasure,
pleasure intense enough to require undistracted concentration.  She
slid in and out of him, in and out, and finally she was pleased to
feel him humping back.  In and out she went as his rear end left
the surface of the bed and rose to try to keep the dildo deep
inside him even as Carol tried to withdraw it.  And finally, she
saw him smile, a wide, straining, happy smile, and she felt
stickiness on her belly, and she realized that he'd done it,
actually pumped clear fluid of his out of his prick, that she'd
brought him to orgasm through his asshole!  Through his only
available womanly opening!  That he'd just had his first female
orgasm from getting fucked by a cock, or anyhow a facsimile cock! 
He did have a future as a woman!  She reached down and squeezed a
bulb at the base to spew salty yogurt, leftover facsimile cum,
deep into his guts.

Then slowed, then just lay there atop him with her massive dildo
still deep inside.  His ass was no longer pulsing, no longer
squeezing it as if trying to milk it.

"Was that good for you?" she asked him slyly.  She knew, she could
see the answer all over his face, but she wanted to hear it from
him.

"Yes!" Carl answered.  "Very strange, but ....  Yes!"

"Very good?"

"Yes, honey.  Very good!  Thank you!"  Carl didn't know what else
to say or think.  It had been humiliating, then agonizing, but
toward the end fantastic!  Stupendous!  He'd felt so helpless at
first, then he'd felt enslaved by his own desire to feel more and
more of that stiff thing thrusting inside him, more, more, until
his euphoria could no longer be contained, and spilled over
everywhere!  Gloriously!  Was this what women felt?  No wonder they
love it!

"You're welcome." Carol replied.  "There're lots more fucks where
that came from!  Do you want more?"

"Yes!" Carl replied all at once, mindlessly.  Then he realized what
he'd said!  He'd committed himself!  Now he couldn't ever protest
this little experiment in mutual infidelity.  It had made them man
and wife again.  No, not really, it had altered their relationship
altogether.  They were now wife and wife, sharing the same lover!

He mentioned that to her at breakfast the next morning, and she
agreed.  "You're not jealous?" she asked him, concerned.  "Not
worried that Mr. Dildo is bigger and harder than you are.  Not
afraid he'll alienate my affections, that I'll run off with him?"

"No," Carl replied.  He paused, embarrassed to confess it, then
said "Not as long as he tries hard to satisfy both of us."  Another
shy pause.  "He felt good."  Yet one more.  Then, "Is that how you
feel when I'm inside you, moving around?"  Another embarrassed
pause.  "Used to feel?"  

"You felt better," Carol said simply.  It was partially true. 
"Because you were the real thing.  The real thing feels better."
Then she paused, and while watching him closely she added, "You'll
see."  

Carl heard her, but decided in his confusion that the best way to
respond was not to respond.  The suggestion was disturbing.

In fact, Carol knew that for sheer physical pleasure Mr. Dildo was
far better than Carl, because he was far bigger, leaving not even
wiggle room when he was stuffed into her.  His pressure in all
directions then turned her whole body it seemed into one huge
throbbing pussy, pure ecstasy, desperate to slide up and down on
him.  But in the end he was only rubber, and sooner or later we all
come back to the real thing.  For affection.  For love.  For the
satisfaction of dominating another person's will.  "The real thing
feels better," Carol repeated.  But they agreed to keep Mr.Dildo an
active participant in their lovemaking from then on.  

Now they both had to move on to the next stage of the plan she'd
worked out with Maddy, to the real thing.  She was now certainly
ready for another man in the flesh, oh, Lord yes!  Now that she'd
made love to Mr. Dildo, she knew it!  But first she had to get her
hubby accustomed to the idea.  Really accustomed to two ideas, each
one equally devastating to his male ego, what was left of it.  He
had to accommodate to the idea that someone else's real cock could
fuck his wife, was fucking his wife, had fucked his wife, and she'd
loved it.  That he was no longer a fit man for her, and another 
man was.  Then he had to accommodate to the idea that someone 
else's real cock could fuck him, was fucking him, had fucked him!
And that he'd loved it!  That being a woman, he was fit to be 
fucked!

Men don't easily accept either idea, not at first.  When he'd
accepted both of them his transition would be complete.  Carl
would disappear into his suppressed self, which would then
finally emerge.  He'd know he was a girl named Coral.  The old 
Carl would be only her memory.  Carol's former beloved husband would 
become the woman he wanted to be.  She wanted to be.

But he'd need more time.  He'd need to feel Mr. Dildo deep inside
himself more often.  He'd need to make love to Mr. Dildo with his
body and his mouth and his whole heart repeatedly before he'd be
ready for sex with some actual man.  Carol knew she had to be
patient.  Even though Carl was innately a woman with a woman's
desires, he'd had a man's upbringing, with a man's inhibitions. 
She'd see to it that Mr. Dildo fucked them both nightly, and then
she'd gradually persuade Carl to move on to the next stages.  

When Carol put Mr. Dildo away that night, she kissed the tip. 
"Well done," she said to it.  "Keep it up!"  

The next night it occurred to her that Carl should also show his
appreciation to Mr. Dildo.  With some coaxing and much reluctance
he too finished the evening by kissing Mr. Dildo's tip.  A few days
later he was licking it, and by the end of the week under Carol's
guidance he was giving Mr. Dildo a thorough, passionate,
deep-throated blow job at the beginning of each evening.  Carol
also decided that Mr. Dildo could play hard-to-get, that Carl each
night would need to persuade Mr. Dildo to screw him.  Really use
his feminine wiles to seduce him!  So in the privacy of their home
Carl began dressing in the most outrageously provocative clothing,
and tried behaving like a sex-starved streetwalker.  At first he 
felt embarrassed to seem such a slut, but after a few full days of 
it, including a humiliating stroll through a distant mall, it no 
longer troubled him.  If Carol and Mr. Dildo wanted him that way 
sometimes, he'd be that way.

Carol saw to it that sometimes Mr. Dildo suspected insincerity and
refused him.  She loved seeing the disappointment in Carl's face
when that happened, because it meant that he genuinely needed to
feel that stiff dick in him, he'd been anticipating it, dreaming
about it!  His girlish desires really were coming on!  She'd tell
him to relieve himself into a kleenex, and disappointed, he'd
do just that while she settled herself for sleep.  But dribbling 
into a kleenex was no substitute for a fulfilling fuck.  Eventually
Mr. Dildo would relent, and she was delighted to see that in no 
time at all Carl was again on his back or his knees getting plowed,
squealing in spasms of joy, loving it all!   

One further preparatory step.  Carol was now sure that her husband
would fully accept his new gender once he was committed
irrevocably, even though he didn't know it yet.  He was prepared
for it physically now, but he needed to be prepared emotionally
too.  It remained that he wouldn't be a real woman until he'd been
with a real man, wanted to satisfy him, and did so.  

But real men had certain requirements.  What could Carl offer 
a man now?  A blow job certainly, and his rear end was now 
well-prepared.  But not proper fucking -- that was out of
the question for the time being.  An orchiectomy and a vaginaplasty
would traumatize him right now -- he still needed to learn that
what women have between their legs is more desirable than the
now-functionless flabs of flesh he carried between his own legs.
He'd come to that truth in his own good time, and then he'd
arrange for the necessary surgery himself.  He wouldn't need
her to coax him.

Maddy pointed out that a complete sex change wasn't necessary to
his further education right now anyhow.  Most men would be
delighted to use his mouth if it was as talented and well-trained
as Carol claimed.  And they'd love his newly ripe, well-rounded ass
once they saw it, especially once they'd been in it, rolled their
bellies around on it with their dicks deep in his guts  -- Sondra's
extramarital career was plentiful evidence for that!  But if Carl 
was ever to compete with other girls for the best guys, if he was 
ever to get a man of his own into bed to coax sperm out of him, 
and enjoy all the other womanly pleasures, he'd need to excite
the man first.  And that meant he'd need bigger breasts.  There 
was no question there.  That's what men want.  That's what they 
look for.  That's the way they  are.  A girl with small tits gets only
leftovers.  

Carol couldn't disagree.  Yes, he'll need them, she thought, and
once he has them he'll enjoy them I'm sure the way I did mine
when they finally came in.  His figure is blossoming now, but only
slowly.  He has the cutest tush already, but it'll still be a while 
before he can fill a high-styled blouse properly, or wear a backless
or spaghetti strap gown and still show a really impressive cleft.  And
he still refuses to wear breast forms of any kind, because of the
delectable feeling those new thick nipples give him when they rub
against his clothes.  He loves his little swellings, even though he
still thinks they'll eventually evolve into a manly chest.  Carol
smiled.  Time to disabuse him of that.  It takes more than little
swellings to make a whole girl!

Time was of the essence, and implants were the answer.  His figure 
would be better proportioned, his nipples would stick out further 
and feel more erogenous, sexier, and it would be easier for anyone
to suckle them!   He'd love to feel them jounce when he walked, 
she was willing to bet, lots of women did.  Reason enough right 
there.  But the clincher was, she wanted Carl to have really big
tits, and she wanted Carl to have them because she knew that deep 
down in his heart, never saying so, he wanted them too!  

Left to himself he'd never agree.  She'd mentioned surgical breast
enlargement at breakfast one day, and a terrified if wistful look
came into his eyes.  She was sure it wistful.  The poor dear was
still conflicted.  He wanted it so desperately, but he couldn't
admit it to himself!  This being in denial was a terrible thing!

Carl's expression in fact wasn't wistful but worried.  He now knew
that no matter how many concessions he made to Carol's kink, she'd
still want more of this femininity stuff from him, always under the
pretext that he wanted it.  He always agreed -- she was so
delighted whenever he agreed that he couldn't deny her anything!
And having done it, it always turned out she was right, in a way. 
Pretending to be a girl and living a girl's life was novel, 
interesting, absorbing, challenging, and often it was
fun too!  Fulfilling in some ways, completing the circle, closing the
gap between him and the girls who were his closest friends during 
his earlier years.  And by now he had to admit it was easy, no 
problem.  Some of it, like becoming Mr. Dildo's passionately devoted 
sex pot lover, was just great!  With other people, all of Carol's 
friends, he acted like a proper woman and was accepted as one, 
whether they knew what he'd once been or not.  So it was no big deal 
to take whatever the next step Carol fancied.  It always seemed 
only one more concession, no great leap into the unknown.  

And each new concession, each article of clothing, each little 
gesture or trick of behavior he learned, really did turn her on! 
And when she was turned on she'd fondle him with such affection, 
rubbing her whole smooth, soft body against his, which was also 
far smoother and softer that ever for some reason he couldn't fathom.
Sympathetic vibrations?  Was Mr. Dildo turning him into a woman by 
using him as a woman?  He still disapproved of Mr. Dildo in principle,
but he couldn't object to Mr. Dildo sharing their bed because he 
gave both of them so much pleasure.  Carol especially!  But he 
never objected when Carol was leaning over him, stroking Mr. Dildo 
in and out of his cunt -- that's what she liked to call it -- and 
then, oh, glorious!, stroking him in and out again!

But where would it end?  


end 13/17


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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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