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Subject: {ASSM} Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 7/17  TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc
Date: Mon,  1 Oct 2001 15:10:02 -0400
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Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 7/17  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)   




                              7.

FormFit Figures had only a small storefront entrance in a strip
mall a few blocks away, a discreet opening to what was in fact a
huge complex spreading out behind all the other stores, arranged to
seem small so FormFit could preserve an unostentatious presence in
the local community.  Its clients liked discretion.  Once inside,
though, a woman would find Nautiluses and tennis courts and even an
Olympic sized swimming pool.  The exercise and dance rooms seemed
cavernous, though that may have been because the walls were lined
with mirrors.  Far off was a "Weight Room" where Carl at first
imagined he'd be spending most of his time, unaware that its
purpose wasn't to help men build muscles by pumping iron but to
help women reduce, to make them more limber and desirable by
teaching them vigorous and provocative dance moves.  "Hula, Belly,
and Lap Dancing" was one of the scheduled courses.  A discreet 
sign in the entrance window declared the presence somewhere inside 
of a full service beauty salon.  

Carl found the place, and saw some remarkably well-groomed women
leaving as he came in.  First sweat and get all frazzled, then go to
the salon and get beautified -- that seems to be their drill, he
thought to himself.  Pretty cool.  He wondered if the men's
facilities were altogether segregated from the women's.

At the huge, curved reception desk he gave the girl his name and
told her that he'd been sent by his wife and her friend Maddy,
Madeline.  He added that he'd been ill recently and they thought he
needed rebuilding, and he handed over the card he'd been given. 
She looked puzzled, then grave, then hesitated, then looked up
brightly.  

"Yes, I see you're already down for this morning.  I'd better send
you right in to speak with Adrienne, our manager.  She knows all
about these coded referrals.  It's best that way."

Carl didn't know which way she meant, but each business has its own
procedures, so he waited, then on signal went through a door behind
the receptionist's desk into what appeared to be a tastefully
appointed office with an examining table off to one side.  He sat
down gingerly, and a few minutes later Adrienne entered through
another door, 

She turned out to be one more of the impeccable women he'd passed
on his way in, every feature a jewel, every hair in place.  She had
his card in hand.  Whatever Maddy'd scribbled on it -- Carl hadn't
been able to read a word -- she seemed to regard with care and
respect.  Adrienne placed it in the middle of her desk, glanced at
it once again, then introduced herself, took a deep breath, and got
to the point.

"Carl, I understand that you live nearby and that this place is
convenient for your daily exercises.  And that you've not been well
and need to get out more, to build yourself up.  In a way, that you
need to come out and be yourself."  She paused, and saw that Carl
didn't understand that last statement at all.  In deep denial
indeed, she thought.  Then continued, "And that you're a dear
friend of Maddy, who honors us by serving on our Board of
Directors."

She nodded at him reassuringly.  

"For these reasons we're happy to accommodate you.  So please don't
misunderstand what I'm about to say.  We want you here.  In fact,
we have a class beginning soon and you're already registered in it,
and we're delighted."

Carl waited for the other shoe to drop.  It must be a boot, he was
thinking. 

"But we'll need a certain amount of cooperation from you while
you're here.  You see ..." -- she paused, saw that he didn't see at
all, took another deep breath, and continued -- "FormFit is a
health club exclusively for women.  It's important that we maintain
that policy strictly -- we appeal to women who want to develop
pride in themselves as themselves, apart from the presence of men. 
So we will not wish to advertise or flaunt the presence of a man in
any of our classes.  It would change the spirit of things."

"I see," Carl said, though he didn't at all.  Why had Carol sent
him here?  Or was it Maddy?

"Now, many women share your shape and build, and your facial
structure too, so it won't really be necessary for you to disguise
yourself.  I'd think it a privilege myself, but you think it demeaning 
to pretend to be one of us deliberately, so we won't ever ask
it of you.  You can be yourself at all times, no problem.  You'll
try to speak a little higher in your usual vocal range, perhaps, or
sound a bit more tense -- that accomplishes the same thing.  
Occasionally you'll want to be seen wearing one or another
gender-specific enhancement, as all women do, just to confirm to
others that you are what you seem.  We can help you with that at
our salon.    

"'Gender-specific enhancement?'"

"Something visible that tells everyone you're a woman because only 
women wear such things.  Lipstick for instance.  Or a high-style 
hairdo.  Maybe distinctively feminine earrings, pearl drops or 
large hoops.  Both ears pierced, that might be the least trouble
for you.  You know.  Show one or another now and then.  You'll
choose which, we'll never decide for you.  Something you'll do
periodically to forestall any questions about your gender.  At
least until your figure comes in and settles the matter."

This was peculiar, Carl was thinking.  "My figure comes in?"

Adrienne looked a little impatient.  "Yes, your figure.  You are
here for body sculpting, rebuilding, aren't you?  That's what we do
here.  And you are taking medication to help out, aren't you? 
That's what I'm told."  She gestured at Maddy's card on her desk.

"Yes, of course," Carl said, puzzled, yet strangely unconcerned.

"That's fine.  Then there'll be no problem we can't manage. 
Maddy's hospital refers scads of people like you to us for 
rehabilitation, and we're grateful to her.  We understand their 
special needs.  You'll have full use of our facilities of course,
changing rooms, spas, the beauty salon, whatever you may need to
help you feel you belong.  They're all for you, to help you feel glad
that you're you.  Use them.  But until it no longer matters, do use
discretion when you and the other women are undressed together.
If you have any questions, I'm always here."  She looked amusedly
resigned and looked at him ruefully, as if woman to woman, and sighed.
"Or so it sometimes seems."

Then she stood up.  "Now, with that out of the way, what shall we
call you?  Your wife is 'Carol' I understand, so that's out.
'Carla' is a good name if you like it, but it seems to me rather
... obvious.  Carlotta?  Is there Spanish ancestry in you?"

Carl was beginning to feel pressured.  FormFit might not be where
he should be, if he had to pretend to be a woman.  No, he didn't
have to pretend, he corrected himself, Adrienne was saying that
everyone would assume that he's a woman as long as he provides no
evidence to the contrary, it isn't necessary to pretend anything. 
He decided to assert himself nevertheless.  What should they call
him?  "How about Carl?," he said, almost glaring at Adrienne. 
"That's a good name!"  Whatever else, Carl was who he was!

"'Coral,'" Adrienne replied.  "Perfect"  

She pressed a buzzer and a tall, rangy, woman in bright red and
yellow exercise tights came in through a far door, bursting into
the room as if a one-woman bouquet of flowers.  She had
sharp features and a firm manner, and blonde hair pulled back tight
into a high ponytail.  A mist of flowery scent preceded and
surrounded her. 

She looked at Carl with a cheerful, somewhat conspiratorial grin.

"Callista, this is Coral.  I told you about her this morning. 
Coral, Callista is your personal trainer while you're here.  She'll
help you with whatever's necessary or advisable.  You'll do well to
follow her advice, she's well-experienced in this sort of thing." 


Carl stared at Callista, then at Adrienne.  What did "this sort of
thing" mean?  And Adrienne had called him "her" -- why?  He supposed
it made sense, given FormFit's all-girl policy.  He decided to let it
pass.  While he was here, he was a she, that was clear enough.

"Hi, Callista, glad to meet you," he said.

"Coral," she acknowledged.  "Shall we go, honey?  I have a lot of
things to explain to you, and your first class begins very soon." 

Adrienne laughed.  "Go, go, the two of you.  Enjoy your session
today, Coral.  And as I said, if there are any problems, I want to
be the first to know."  She broke off and picked a piece of paper
up off her desk, looking at it and sighing.  She picked up a pencil.
Her attention was now elsewhere.

Carl accompanied Callista through the door at the far end of
Adrienne's office.  It led to a locker room.

"Here's where we change to our workout clothes, honey," Callista
said.  "That locker's yours now, you'll find your name
on it tomorrow.  Leave your towels and your leotard here, along
with scuffs or slippers or hair bands, sports bras, whatever else
you routinely wear, and pick out some of each from those stacks over
there.  After today you'll find them inside your locker freshly
laundered each day, ready for use.  I see you're not carrying a
purse.  It'll be safe here, but if you don't mean to bring one I
suggest you leave some of your make-up here, whatever you'll need
to get you home looking decent when you leave here.  Or wherever
else you're going."

Carl looked around. Each of the lockers had little name placards on
them, the letters cute, thin, in a refined calligraphy, and
decorated with little painted birds and flowers.  "Jennifer,"
"Stacy," "Bea," and "Theresa," were his next door neighbors.  

A problem.  "This is a women's locker room," Carl observed.    

"Yes, that's what it was yesterday, too," Callista replied
matter-of-factly.  "And will be tomorrow.  Why?"

"There's no men's locker room here?"

"Oh, sure.  Other side of the complex.  For the repair and utility
people to use.  Also two of our trainers are men, they use it. 
They're the ones who work with women who want hard bodies, sharp
cut muscle masses.  The bodybuilders, girls who want real
musculature.  Though women never really do hunk up the way men do. 
Not they way they do, for sure!  Dave and Sergei, gorgeous guys,
you'll see.  Really ripped!  They demonstrate which muscles are
stressed by which exercise by pointing to their own bodies, and
then it's all perfectly clear.  Sergei was a runner-up in a
regional Mr. Universe contest."  

"Shouldn't I use that locker room?  I mean, how will Jennifer or
Bea feel, seeing my name up there with theirs, 'CARL'!"  He spelled
it out.  "Won't they feel a little uneasy?"

"Not at all, 'CORAL.'"  She spelled it out, and Carl heard her
shocked, realizing for the first time what it was Adrienne had
actually said.  Despite himself he'd been rechristened!  "That's
what they'll see on your locker, and that's who they'll see getting
dressed and undressed.  You think you resemble Dave or Sergei?  I
don't think so, Coral.  No way!"

Carl decided he should try to put his foot down, again.  "Well, I'd
be uneasy dressing and undressing in front of the women here,
Callista.  I should share space with the other men."

Callista shook her head.  "No, honey.  Trust me, they're not for
you.  You don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Well, first of all, you aren't here for bodybuilding, you're here
for body shaping.  So I'm your trainer, they aren't.  But secondly,
we've all been briefed, we all know that you were born male even
though without much talent for it.  Dave and Sergei know.  One look
at your body and they'd be leaning into you relentlessly. Hitting on
you.  Wanting you to develop your body their way.  And you wouldn't 
want that now, I don't think.  Maybe later, but you aren't ready."

There were too many people here making decisions for him!  Pushing
him away from the enhanced masculinity he hoped for, pushing him
toward its opposite!  And now, discouraging him from becoming all
the hunk he could be?  "And why not?" Carl now sounded annoyed,
sarcastic even.

Callista spoke gently.  "Because they're gay, Coral.  They're gay
and they're strong, and they're willful, and they like thin, femme
men!  They love them in fact!  If they ever got you alone naked in
a locker room or shower, they'd take you in their manly arms and
when they finished with you your asshole would be gaping wider than
your mouth and leaking so much cum you'd have to change tampons two
or three times just to get out of the building.  Probably you'd
need to use two together just to stop the flow -- they're
incredibly well-hung, I've seen them when some guy's gotten them
all excited.  You go there, they'll use your rear end and guts for 
a cum sponge -- you'll soak them up, then get squeezed and hung out
until tomorrow.  You'll be their queen for a day every day you're here. 
I don't say you wouldn't get to love it, but is that what you want
right now?  Are you ready for that yet, honey?"

Carl had no answer.       

"Then let's get under way.  Strip down please, Coral, I want to see
you in the buff, see what it is we're dealing with here."

Feeling somewhat helpless, entrapped even, Carl did as he was told. 
Callista would now be the only woman apart from Carol who'd ever
seen him naked.  Apart from his mother, of course.  He felt
embarrassed, but this at least was what he was here for, so an
expert could look him over and decide on an exercise regimen.  When
he was finally utterly naked, he tried standing tall, not crouching
down as he'd done when Carol had caught him in a girly pose.  His
hands fluttered in front of his dangling penis nevertheless.

Callista studied him with a thoroughly professional eye.  "Hmmm!"
she said.  "Not too bad.  Size 10 I'd say, could be an 8.  A little
buildup in the right places'll go a long way toward giving you the
svelte figure every girl wants.  We'll see about putting some meat
here and there."

She stepped forward and put her hands on either side of his hips,
then shocked him by moving closer still, cupping his rear end, and
lifting his buttocks.  She was strong, no one to mess with, Carl
realized -- her hand muscles felt like iron.  She pulled his crotch
to hers,  Carl started to get an erection.  That wasn't right!  But
it was only to feel how firm his thigh muscles could get while
resisting her, he realized when she let go, leaned away, and wrote
something on a clipboard.

Then just as Carl had done himself yesterday -- was it only
yesterday? -- she lifted the skin on his chest up and away from his
ribs with her fingertips and palpated his nipples.  An erotic shock
triggered through him!  Suddenly she dropped them again and stepped
back. 

"Yes!" she said conclusively.  "You'll shape up fine.  Just lovely. 
Today we work on body tone, build a good foundation for you to grow
on, special attention to pecs, thighs, and buns.  Here!  Use this
for your workouts.  Everyone here wears the same costume, the same
leotard, all of them just like this except for the color.  We don't
want some of our ladies flaunting $3000 Donna Karen outfits while
others feel inferior in droopy cotton tank suits.  These stretch 
and help shape everyone."  

She handed him a pink and black leotard.  Cotton and spandex,
the label said.  Carl looked at it closely.  He was now wary about
questioning or resenting any health club arrangements -- each
protest seemed to reveal only that things were worse than he imagined.
So he merely asked, "Pink?  You think that's my color?"   Callista 
said nothing.  I suppose she expected a question like that, Carl 
told himself.  So instead he continued, "I can't get into this.  It's 
hardly larger than my hand!"

Which was true.  The leotard looked designed for a doll.

"Oh, you'll get into it.  It's stretchy, has to be so it'll hold
you firm in all the right places.  And show you off in all the
right places too. you'll feel naked, yet covered.  We build a girl's 
pride in her self-image as well as her body, from Day One."

Carl poked his feet through the leg holes and drew it up.  Sure
enough, it actually stretched enough to fit around his hips and
past his waist.  Snug, not binding.  Like being hugged.

"Tuck yourself, haven't you ever done that before?  Oh, yes,
yesterday morning I hear!  That's what you'll do all the while
you still have them.  The fabric down there's quite firm, it'll 
hold your things in place even when you spread your legs wide to 
wrap them around beach balls, stretch your tendons the way women
need to stretch them to get their legs around their men and ride 
them.  Now poke your arms and head through this back opening here 
and let the sleeves slide up to your shoulders.  See?  Don't you 
love the way you look now?  So very feminine!"

Carl saw that the fabric intended to cover his breasts was sewn
into large circles, each padded in its bottom hemisphere.  He
looked up at her.

"A girl needs shape, honey.  You're a girl here, remember?  And I
told you, this isn't only a leotard, it's an all-in-one shaper. 
Pull it tight!  That's it!  Fine!  See, no gaff needed, this leotard
handles that nicely.  Good.  Now pull your chest into those
circles.  Also fine!  With that thin waist you've got, your breasts
aren't too bad even now, they're actually shapely!  Now let's go
join the class, it's probably formed."

Carl looked down.  Once again, he had bulges where women have
breasts, and further down nothing intruded on the smooth hillock
between his belly and his crotch.  Like a trussed up and tricked
out version of himself yesterday morning, not at all himself, Carl
allowed himself to be led down a short corridor into a gymnasium. 
There a dozen or so women were standing and chatting with each
other, all of them wearing similar leotards, some plump, some
nicely proportioned.  All of them with smooth crotches where their
legs joined, of course.  Carl suddenly felt elated!  It was like
walking into a Sports Illustrated!  The breast support stitchery 
that gave Carl's flat chest every essential advantage
provided the real women with all sorts of luxurious endowments. 
Awesome, Carl thought, staring.  

"You'll be fine, go with the flow," Callista said, amused by his
transfixed gaze.  She seemed to know just what was on his mind.
"Ladies, this is Coral, she's come to join us!" she announced loudly.
Various women turned to look at Carl, and apparently saw only a woman.
"See?  No problem," Callista said.  "I'll come back when the 
session's done."  She disappeared.  

Barefoot like the rest of them, Carl walked forward to join the
others just as the instructor in front called them all to order. 
Each woman chose a spot on the floor as her own, and warmups and
stretches began.  Not very arduous.  The girl just in front of Carl
was a dish, with a minuscule waist and sensational, voluptuous rear 
end.  Its globes undulated even while she stood still, her hands on
outspread hips, shifting her weight from one leg to the other,
listening to instructions.  Carl found himself hypnotized by its
movements.  He began to worry about his erection untucking itself. 
This doesn't have to be half-bad, he thought.  There are
advantages.  Maybe I shouldn't worry about this female
impersonation thing they want from me.  Maybe I won't quit right
away.  Give it half a chance!

During a brief break, a woman next to Carl introduced herself.  She
turned out to be "Bea," Carl's -- or "Coral's" -- locker neighbor. 
Bea made some self-deprecating remarks about her own generous
figure, her curvacious, full-bodied breasts and hips.  Her husband
had suggested she do something about them, and she had agreed, and
that was why she was here for the third time in two years.  What
they make you do here works, she told Carl, but you have to keep at
it!  Carl made some reassuring noises in his throat.  

She admired Carl's figure -- "Why are you here, honey?  Surely not
to lose more weight!  You're a lamp post!"  Carl explained
how his spouse had suggested it, that he'd been ill recently and
needed to be built up.  He'd prefer her abundant curves to his
own skeletal straight lines.  She appreciated the sentiment and
felt desolated by his illness, and she consoled him on his thin
physique.  "You'll have a gorgeous figure in no time, Coral," she
said.  "Just wait!"  Lots of women would kill to have your waist!"
They were feeling quite friendly when their next exercises began.  

During their next break Bea stared at Carl's head, reached for his
hair, and ruffled it just a little.   "Coral, I love your hair,"
she said.  "I just love it!  I wish my face could tolerate hair cut
that short!  It's so cute, so tom-boyish.  You ever think of giving
it a little curl?  The way it's layered it would be so easy!  Then
slather on lots of eye goop and I bet you'd be an absolute doll, men
rolling over and dying at your feet!  Tell you what!  Before we
leave this place today we'll stop at the salon and we'll each of us
get a quick makeover -- I want to see how you look all done up, and
I want an expert opinion whether I can wear my hair as short as
yours!  My treat!"

How to turn down that offer?  Not easy.  Not possible, Bea was a
large, exuberant woman who did things her way.  He couldn't.  Carl
wondered what a "makeover" might be -- a drink, a quick
"pick-me-up" maybe?

The exercise pace picked up, and toward the end all of the women
were perspiring freely and breathing deeply.  The air was thick
with a female, fermy smell, the smell of moist underarms and
pussies.  I'm in pig heaven, Carl exulted!  He checked out the
half-dozen crotches turned toward him at that moment -- sure
enough, each smooth vee shape had a dark stain spreading out from
underneath.  Each smooth hill, each nothing, soaked with sweat,
maybe with other juices too?  No anti-perspirants down there!  Carl
loved that smell.  Carol had just promised he could once again bury
his face in her, and he wanted to do that right now, the worst way.

But instead he stood chatting with Bea.  Bea always spoke with her
whole body, shoulders in motion, chest waving, hips weaving, hands
gesturing wide and loose wristed.  Carl figured he might as well 
toss his hands about like that too -- that was an easy enough 
"gender-specific enhancement" of the kind Adrienne had
suggested.  So he began imitating her.  Limp-wristed, flapping his 
arms among all these heavy-breathing women, supposedly one of
them.  This isn't too hard! he thought.  He began to feel as if 
he belonged, a nice feeling!

Callista reappeared.  "A good session, Coral?" she asked with a wry
smile, as if she knew how he'd be feeling at this moment.  "Do I
sense that you're less uncertain about this than you were?  That
you feel you can fit in after all?"  

Bea broke in.  "Callista!  Coral and I want to go home in full
glory today!  Do you think you could arrange for the salon to fit
us in for quick makeovers, both of us?"

Callista glanced at Carl, who said nothing.  "I'm sure," she
replied as they walked down the corridor toward their lockers. 
"I'll see to it.  When women look good they feel good, and that's
what we're here for.  Coral, if you're planning to visit the salon
may I snap a picture of you when they've got you looking especially
pretty?"  

A picture of him looking "pretty"?  No way!  Carl said not a word. 
But Callista just stood there and waited for his reply.  And
waited.  Carl tried to ignore her, but the silence only grew
thicker.  

Bea broke in.  "Oh of course you can, Callista!  I'll want a copy
too, so I can think some more about getting a short hairdo like
hers.  It's really darling!  And so practical!  And imagine it 
with just a bit of curl!  Hmmm!"  Bea began studying Carl's head 
again. 

"Coral?"  Callista continued to look at him.

There was nothing for it.  "Yes, of course, Callista!" Carl said.
He was feeling pressured again!  Maybe he really should end this
masquerade, today!  It wasn't worth all the hassle! He edged toward 
deciding he'd do just that.

"Lovely!  Then if some morning you aren't here when we're expecting
you, I can post your picture on our bulletin board with your
address, so anyone who lives nearby can look in to see if
anything's wrong.  That's an extra incentive for you to maintain a
perfect attendance record, don't you think?  Knowing we all think
of you as one of us, and that we all care, we're all concerned for
each other?  Don't you feel like one of us now?"

Again Callista waited for a reply.  "Yes, just like one of the 
girls," Carl said finally.  What could he say to Carol now
about his reluctance to return to this place?  He had to return. 
If he didn't, they'd track him down like some truant schoolboy!  Or
rather, schoolgirl!

"That's what I wanted to hear," Callista beamed.  "I was waiting to
hear that, honey!  Welcome, really and truly!  Here, you'll want to
use this cologne every day, it has such a fresh, flowery aroma, 
and it lasts and lasts on your skin, through shower
after shower.  I use it all the time you've probably noticed.  I
love it!  You will too.  Keep the bottle, my compliments.  All my
girls use this scent, I have it specially made up.  It's like a
secret society I.D.  We can always tell who we are anywhere, any
time, even in the dark.  One of my girls thinks it got her
a raise and promotion, because her boss is one of my girls too and
uses the same fragrance.  It's a lovely scent, and helps us feel so 
much more desireable.  Wear it always."


end 7/17




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