index


Message-ID: <36295asstr$1019974201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} New TG Breasts by Vickie Tern 4/10 femdom F/m etc
Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 02:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

New TG Breasts by Vickie Tern 4/10 Femdom F/m f/f M/m



                                iv.

I did, startled, and stood alongside the car, and glanced warily up
and down the ranks of other cars.  I felt somehow guilty of some
unspoken crime, exposed to ridicule.  I'm wearing regular men's
clothes, I tried to assure myself.  But I didn't feel like one. 
No, I was wearing a bulging bra and panties and lipstick and my
eyelashes were black.  And I was clutching a purse!  If I was a
man, I was a grotesque parody of a man!  That was what I felt like,
and anyone could see it!  I was a freak!

Haley stayed behind the wheel, the engine still running, and
continued to lean toward me.  "Babydoll!" she said.  "Welcome to
the real world.  This is the situation.  I'll phone Meg and tell
her we'll be a little late.  You need to find out for yourself what
you are.  You've been acting as if your breasts were a disgrace,
trying to hide them, and that insults every woman everywhere in the
world.  So now you're going to acknowledge them.  You're going to
get in there and do some shopping for yourself.  Unless you really
do want to be ridiculed, don't dream of trying it like a man!  Take
short steps and make sure your thighs rub when you walk, you hear,
and keep your elbows close to your sides, and hold your hands waist
high or higher.  And use that lovely high voice.  You're going to
act like a woman, because that's the only way you can survive this
with any dignity!  And women don't walk like John Wayne!"  

"Hayley!" I said, my voice trying to sound commanding, but only
sounding frightened.  High pitched, as requested.  Girlish,  "Let
me get back in the car!  Please!"  Why did I get out when she told
me to get out?

"Now first of all, you're going to buy yourself your own bra -- you
seem to be ashamed of mine, so I want it back!   But you need one! 
Any style you think is pretty, you know your bra size, 34 C.  But
each bra fits differently, so see if you can get a salesgirl to
help you."

I stood there stunned!  What was she saying?

"Or if you can't bring yourself to ask a strange woman to fondle
your tits and adjust your bra straps, then live dangerously and buy
one on your own and then go to a fitting room and put it on
yourself and adjust it yourself!  I suggest a "firm support" for
those gorgeous breasts you seem so eager to hide, like the one
you're wearing now, in a pale shade so it won't be too obvious
under your shirt.  But you want it to show a little!  You have
breasts, and that's that!  And from now on you'll wear a bra, and
that's that!  I won't have you disgrace me by going bra-less unless
you mean it, unless you're out trying to seduce some man!"   

"I can't do that!" I said.  "Buy my own bra?"  It frightened me,
and I began to shake.  Any salesgirl could see that I was a fraud! 

"You'd better.  And a decent one, not something smutty from
Fredericks of Hollywood!  Because your next task will be to buy
yourself the frilliest, femmiest woman's blouse you can find, and
to make sure it fits you perfectly!  If your new bra is smutty, the
salesgirl helping you will assume you're a slut and will bring you
only provocative blouses, not the dainty and tasteful kinds you
should be wearing.  If you buy something whorish you may be sure
I'll make you wear it all over the neighborhood!  Now, you don't
know your blouse size, and I want you to have the full experience,
to try on item after item in a women's store with a salesgirl
bringing you more!  Until it's second nature, and no big deal! 
Whether you end up wearing the blouse or carrying it out of the
store is up to you.  That man-tailored shirt you're wearing now is
quite flattering, so I won't mind if you want to keep wearing it. 
But with your new bra underneath!"  

She was serious!  I looked at her, petrified!  She continued,
unconcerned.

"Then you'll go to a different store and buy a long pull on skirt,
jersey would be nice, or maybe a jeans skirt, mid-calf or longer. 
Do that, and leave those jeans you're wearing now in whatever the
fitting room you find yourself in -- they're men's tight, not
women's tight.  They give you a flat bottom, and you need a girly
bubble tush to go with those boobs of yours.  So I don't want to
see you wearing them any more.  If you'd rather buy yourself a
really tight pair of women's stretch jeans, I wouldn't mind, suit
yourself.  We'll buy some for you later anyhow.  Understood?"

I still stood there astonished.  Hayley continued to issue her
instructions.       

"Your credit card and any cash you may need are already in your
purse.  Let's see, there're also a few tampons in your purse --
women always carry tampons for emergencies.  So when you've bought
your skirt and you're wearing it, go to the Ladies' and insert a
tampon -- see if you can figure out where and how.  Then I'll meet
you at the Mall entrance opposite this one, on the far, far side of
the building.  I'll want to know there's a little string dangling
out of your bottom, so be prepared to lift your skirt and pull
aside your panties to show me if I ask you.  No faking it!"

I could only stare at Hayley!  What was she doing?  What was this? 
What she was asking of me was terrifying!  Impossible!  I opened my
mouth, but nothing emerged. 

"You've been doing much too much whining, Barry!  I wanted you to
have breasts, to enjoy the same pleasures I've been enjoying, and
this is the thanks I get?  Blame?  Did you think your breasts would
come as add-on attachments, take 'em or leave 'em behind?  When you
agreed to have them, you agreed to lots of other things too!  I
suspect you don't know yet how your life has changed!  Well, first
of all you need to learn to live with yourself as you are now, if
you want to continue to live with me!  Is that understood?"  

She waited, glaring.  "Yes," I said.  Though I scarcely knew what
she meant.  Was she punishing me?

"Oh yes, of course!  Right by that other entrance where I'll be
waiting for you there's an earring kiosk.  Get your ears pierced,
honeybuns!  Once in each ear is ample, and come out wearing some
dainty starter hoops or maybe some gold studs.  Select a pair you'd
love to see me wear, so I'll know you like them.  I want you to
like them.  I want you to love knowing they're pretty, that
everyone can see they're pretty, like your breasts, and that
there's no way you can hide them.  So you won't even try to hide
them!  Do you understand me?  Do I need to repeat any of this?"

I shook my head in amazement!  "Hayley," I tried again.

"Good!  I'll see you in less than two hours.  Don't dawdle!" she
said.  

And she pulled the car door shut and was gone, down the Mall lot
and into the distance and then around a corner of the huge
building.  

I stared where the car had disappeared.  Then I looked down at my
sandals and up toward the mall entrance.  Then slowly, thighs 
rubbing together, elbows pressed against my sides, I started walking
toward it.  My breasts felt so exposed!  A woman passed me going
the other way, and I expected her to stare at me and then either
glare or smirk.  Instead, she flashed a quick friendly smile and
moved on.  She thought I was a woman!

That was how to survive this!  Pretend to be a woman!  I walked
into the Mall and in a high, tense voice asked a pleasant young
woman at the information desk for an "intimate wear" shop.  She
pointed the way.  Not long afterward I'd bought a brassiere, a
"Flower Bali," from a salesgirl who told me it was a classic and
insisted on fitting it to me.  I was grateful that my boobs were
real, unmistakably real, no embarrassed explanations needed!  She
put Hayley's bra into a bag with the store's monogram on it.  I
carried the bag ostentatiously, where everyone could see it,
additional proof that I was what I looked like, a genuine woman,
not a perverted man.  

And so it went.  An hour and a half later I walked out the other
Mall Entrance wearing my denim skirt, my ears still stinging and my
rear end stuffed, carrying the blouse I'd bought in another
boutique bag, an antique white silk with a draped neckline the
saleslady had told me was very dressy.  "Suitable for card parties,
afternoon teas, or special dinners with a special someone," she
assured me.  "It's very pretty!  Perfect for you!"

There was Hayley, parked by the curb, where I couldn't miss seeing
her.  I got into the car wordlessly.  

"You did it all?" she asked.  "All of it?"  She seemed now -- oddly
-- respectful.  Did she think she might have gone too far? 
Demanded too much of me?

"Yes," I said. 

"And did anyone think you were a man?"

"No," I said.  "No one."

"And was it difficult?"

"Yes," I said.  "Very."  I thought a moment.  "At first," I added.

Hayley remained silent, waiting to hear more.  I began to
understand what she'd done.  Total immersion -- Hayley had thrown
me into the deep end of the pool to force me to sink or swim,
trusting I would swim.  And that's what I'd done!  

Slowly, reluctantly, I described what had happened and how I'd
felt.  She listened and made little sympathetic noises, and it
gradually became obvious that she was proud of me.  I hadn't done
much, nothing any other woman hadn't done often, but she thought it
was tremendous!  I suppose it was!  So I began to feel proud too!

"At first it was horrible, Hayley," I told her.  "When you drove
away was the worst moment of my life!  Until I realized that it
didn't have to be, that I could get through it if I pretended to be
what I seemed to be.  If I could persuade myself I'm a woman long
enough to persuade others.  An ordinary woman doing ordinary
things.  You thought I could do it!"

"Yes," Hayley said.

"So I did it, and each time it got easier.  And each item I bought
gave me more camouflage.  Until by the time I got to the earring
kiosk, it wasn't camouflage, it was just me!  I selected the most
feminine studs they had, because I knew you'd like them!  Aren't
they pretty?  And when the girl there pierced my ears, it seemed
like nothing!  Girls do it, I was thinking, and women do it, so I
can do it!  So I did it.  It was nothing!" 

Hayley's eyes glowed with love.

"The girl asked me how come I hadn't gotten my ears pierced a few
years back when I was still a teenager, so I could be pretty for
the boys.  I told her I'd been afraid it might hurt.  She
sympathized.  She told me she'd felt the same way about her first
sex as a teenager, about going all the way, but never about getting
her ears pierced.  'That's just something you do when you get your
first period,' is what she said.  Then she told me all about her
first time, it was with a boy who couldn't find her vagina -- only
what she called it was her 'snatch'!  She had to stick him into her
snatch and when he squirted he crossed his eyes and looked like an
absolute goon!  That's what she said.  Do all women tell each other
everything like that?"

Hayley was impressed.  "Some women.  When they sense that whoever's
listening will sympathize.  Women like to share.  Oh, sweetheart,
that's just what I'd hoped would happen.  You felt like a woman,
and the girl sensed it.  You are so marvelous, sweetie, no wonder
I had to marry you!"

And she kissed me.  We were still parked in front of the Mall.  A
woman coming out saw, and looked attentively at the two of us for
a moment, startled, then smiled.  I realized she'd just seen two
women kissing tenderly, lovingly.  

"So, now back to my original question," Hayley said.  Her voice was
once again serious.  "You were feeling so ashamed of yourself you
couldn't imagine that I wanted you in my bed.  Because you weren't
a man.  How about now?  Are you a man?"

Exasperated, I turned toward her.  "Hayley, that's what I've had to
be for the past hour or so, haven't I?  In fact, ever since I first
said yes to you and then woke up with these jugs on my chest!  Over
and over in these different stores I've had to tell myself, 'Be a
man, you can do it!'  And I did do it!  So I must be a man!"  

It sounded odd.

"Yes," Hayley said.  "I understand.  Be a man and buy a bra and a
blouse and a skirt and push a tampax into your snatch and get your
ears pierced.  You did do those things, didn't you, my manly man?"

That really tied it!  Hurt and furious, I was about to vent my
whole heart's humiliations to her, list all the pains and risks I'd
endured at her bidding.  But suddenly she put a finger across my
Blushing Rose lips.  

"Shhh, love," she said.  "I know!  And I know what I want!  You
just needed to find out what for yourself how to be the person I
want you to be now that you have those lovely breasts!   You were
a man, and now you can be a woman too!  That's what I want!  So now
you're free to be whatever, without apologizing to anyone.  If your
breasts embarrass you, you can always feel like the woman you just
were, and know that the man in you is buried way down somewhere
else where he belongs, deep inside you, and that no one will ever
know he's there.  Or if you're proud of your breasts, as you should
be, you can remind yourself that you're the proud woman who owns
them!  Either way you're fine now, proud of yourself or whatever
you're pretending you are!  Because as you say, it's nothing.  We
all do it, all of us women!  When a man can be a woman, that's a
great achievement.  Isn't that so?"

That silenced me.  I remained silent all the rest of the way to
Meg's house.  She was right.  Here I was, wearing a skirt and a
tampon and earrings, dressed as a woman and feeling altogether
comfortable.  I'd gotten accustomed to it, and I didn't feel the
least bit emasculated.  Masculinity as an issue simply never arose. 


Did that make me a man?  Manly traits like determination, courage,
devotion, had sustained me through my long Mall walk, I'd been
telling myself.  I'd had to gird myself up, be a man, in order to
be a woman.  But those traits aren't gendered.  Women have them
too.  The base line was, a fearful person ashamed of his appearance
had walked into that mall, and a confident person proud of her
appearance had emerged.  I felt proud.  Whether as a man or a woman
no longer seemed to matter that much.  

That seemed odd too!

Walking up Meg's driveway toward her front door, I felt a momentary
twinge, and told Hayley.  What would Meg think of me?  Her friend's
husband now in full drag!

"No problem," she said.  "She'll think what you think.  If you're
ashamed, she'll think its shameful.  If you're proud, she'll be
proud of you too.  Greet her as you always do, respond to her
comments as you wish, and sit modestly, knees together, don't
sprawl.  That's all.  We won't stay long."

And it was just that easy.  We walked into Meg's house as we had
often before and she greeted us like ... sisters.  "Hayley, you're
looking wonderful, Barry you too!  I'm so glad you could stop by. 
I've heard all about this new you, Barry, congratulations!  Is that
a new skirt?  It's very flattering!  I wish I had your hips!"

Was she teasing me?  I couldn't tell.  But it sounded affectionate. 
"Yes, it is," I said as we sat down.  "Thank you!"

"You chose well, A-lines have such flair.  And denim is timeless, 
I still have my first denim skirt, I love it.  Of course I've had
to let out the waist just a little, but you don't look as though
you'll have that problem for a long time to come!  Not at
all!" 

"I hope not," I said.  It seemed the right thing to say.  My first
real compliment as a woman!  Why did it feel so good?  But my not
needing to let out my skirt for 'a long time to come' made me feel
uneasy as well as reassured.

"I do so envy you, Hayley, having a husband who can look so cute! 
Mark is an ox!  I tried to get him into a blouse and skirt once,
but he simply looked silly.  He's better off with what we finally
decided.  The office phoned last night, by the way.  They said it's
going so well they may let him loose a few days early."

"How nice for you," Hayley said,

"For all of us, maybe," Meg replied cryptically.  "I have an idea
you might like."  Then "Barry, you really are looking lovely now. 
Hayley says you wanted to go out bare-breasted at first, like some
Amazon or a woman in heat.  I'm glad you decided not to.  Bras
really aren't optional unless you're very young or very risque."

"I suppose not," I said agreeably.  She seemed to think along with
Hayley that people with breasts must wear bras, no option.  That
could be a problem when I finally went back to men's clothes and to
looking like a man.  Bras lift and separate bosoms, and put the
fact that you have breasts on exhibition to the world.  I still
thought that without one I could squeeze myself into a mannish
shape of some kind and resume my life. 

"Anyhow, you'll find that after next week you won't want people
accidentally brushing against your unprotected nipples.  Especially
if they're men."  She grinned at Hayley.  "I've found that if a man
just barely touches one of my  nipples these days, I want to
plaster myself onto him.  And that can lead to all sorts of missed
appointments for the rest of the day!"  Hayley grinned back, and
Meg turned to me. "If you know what I mean," she said, and winked. 

I didn't want to know.

She looked me over critically.  "Who'd have thought it?" she said. 
"Hayley's right!  If I didn't know you were born male, I'd never
have guessed it.  Do you mean to keep your old name?" 

"What do you mean, Meg?" I asked, surprised.  

She leaned forward to talk persuasively, girl to girl.  "I mean,
someone who looks like you needs a name that looks like you.  More
feminine.  It would help you feel like what you'll need to be
anyhow from now on.  There was once a 'Barry' on TV who danced with
Fred Astaire, tall, really lovely.  So 'Barry' isn't bad.  But
different would be better.  And 'Barry's' mainly a boy's name
anyhow, isn't it?" 

"I guess. I like it.  I'm still a boy, you know."

"Honey," Hayley suddenly popped up.  "Whether you feel like a boy
or a girl, you need a name for the way you look now that doesn't
carry all sorts of boy baggage with it."

"How about 'Berry'!" said Meg.  "That's a sweet name, and nearly
the same thing!  My best friend in grade school was named 'Berry'."

"Perfect," Hayley said. "'Berry' it is!  That's what we'll call
him."

"Her," Meg said.   

"Her," Hayley agreed.

"Now wait just a minute," I started to say.

"No, sweetie.  Look at the time!  We said we'd stay only a few
minutes, and we don't want to outwear our welcome.  C'mon, Berry,
remember your purse!"  

As I picked it up, she added, speaking slowly, "Oh, maybe you'll
want to change your tampon before we drive back?  Meg, can she use
your bathroom?"

"Of course," Meg said, eyebrows slightly raised.  I tried not to
feel embarrassed.   "Berry, you know where it is.  My spares are in
the upper right hand drawer there, if you need any."  

As I left the room, my face flushed, I heard her say, "You've done
wonders with her, Hayley!  And in only one short afternoon?"

When I removed the thing I felt briefly empty until I'd slid
another one in and felt full again.  Comfortably snug, almost.  A
peculiar sensation.  I suppose you can get used to anything.  When
I returned, the two women broke off a conversation and turned
toward me.

"Well, Meg," said Hayley.  "Thanks for everything, as always."

"A pleasure, as always," Meg replied.  "I'm glad things are going
so well."

"Oh, the worst is yet to come for my poor sweetie, as you know,"
Hayley said.  "I feel so sorry for her!   But it's all for the
best, and you know how glad she'll be afterward!"

"Yes, I do," Meg said.  "Let me know if I can help."

"You've already mentioned how," she replied.  "I'll keep in touch!"

And we were out the door.  

end 4/10
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+