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Message-ID: <36297asstr$1019974204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} New TG Breasts by Vickie Tern 6/10 femdom F/m etc
Date: Sun, 28 Apr 2002 02:10:04 -0400
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New TG Breasts by Vickie Tern 6/10 Femdom F/m f/f M/m




                              vi.

The next day passed quietly.  Hayley thought it would be better for
me to have another "Girl Day," to get me more accustomed to
displaying my breasts without apology, to hiding my masculinity or
living comfortably with my femininity visible to everyone,
whichever it was.

She put my hair up in rollers as the salon had, "for more body,"
first drenching it in setting gel, then waving a hair dryer over it
before releasing each springy curl and combing it out.  Though it
ordinarily lay close to the scalp, it now stood out wide as if a
kind of halo, with graceful waves.  I looked quite feminine.  I
then made myself up the way the girl at the cosmetics counter had
instructed me, put on my denim skirt again, and topped it with my
new off-white draped blouse.  Hayley approved, but she had a
suggestion.

"Baby, you have such a great body!  What you want to wear today is
a stretch leotard and a really short skirt over it.  Let the world
see you as you are!  Get used to men finding you attractive!"

"Hayley," I said.  "I don't want men to find me attractive."  

"They will, Berry, whether you want them to or not.  It goes with
looking like a girl.  You'll have to get used to it."  She
hesitated, then went on.  "It's fun, too, you'll see.  You get a
man's attention, then when he's hooked you can tease him, reel him
in, let him run off, give him his head."  She considered what she'd
just said.  "Or give him your head if you like," she added with a
crafty smile. "It's called flirting." 

"I'm doing this because I have breasts and I need to look like a
woman in order to deal with them," I said.  "I don't want the rest
of it."

"Honey, it happens.  Like last night with Jeff and Craig, I heard
you tell Craig 'Yes!'  That's not flirting, that's practically
lying on your back and spreading your legs!  At least learn to play
hard to get!  Then when you smile at a man from a safe distance, at
no cost or obligation you've made him think he's King of the
Universe!  You'd be surprised what a woman can make a man think or
do when she sets her mind to it."

She paused.  "I mean, look at you!  Look at what I've got you
thinking and doing!"  She grinned, amused.  Then, "This is what I
mean, you see, this leotard is two piece.  You pull it up from
here.  You'll need a seamless bra with it, I'll lend you one of
mine for now, and we'll buy you your own later today."

"Do I need all these...?" I started to ask.

"Yes.  You can't live in my clothes indefinitely.  When you're in
girl mode, be yourself!"

I put on her bra and then pulled up the leotard, feeling very
uneasy.  It hugged my whole upper body, leaving nothing to the
imagination.  I said so.

Hayley grinned.  'You're catching on to this girl thing, sweetie. 
No, it doesn't.  And this skirt pulled up around your slim middle
is as flirty as they get!  You'll have your pick of men today. 
Don't worry, I'll be with you every moment, I want to see!" 

As we were leaving the house, Hayley paused.  "No tampon?" she
asked me?  "It does give your butt a cute little wiggle when you
walk.  A very unmanly wiggle -- no one would ever suspect you
aren't a real lady.  And anyhow, don't you miss feeling something
filling you up in there?"

I did, a little. "Yes," I said.  "A little."

Hayley looked pleased.  "I hoped you would," she said.  "I'll
wait."

So to complete the disguise, I went to Hayley's cache in the
bathroom and slipped one in.  It was a lot easier now, a simple
slide and tuck.  

The two of us then went to our local "Nail Factory."   There the
girl gave me first a man's manicure, wondering why, pushing back my
cuticles and rounding the ends.  But then she followed it with a
woman's, topping my nails with five coats of pale-pink lacquer and
two of clear gloss, so they looked dense and sculptured, and they
glowed.  "It's a natural look," she said as she put away her little
bottles of enamel.  "But very dressy.  You've neglected your hands,
Berry, they were in terrible shape.  But now they're fine!  And
your nails are much stronger, much less likely to break.  Maybe
next time you'll let me lengthen them?  French tips perhaps?"

"Perhaps," I replied.  I was noticing that each nail was now a
perfect little jewel, a pink pearl, and as I talked I waved my
fingers about freely, touching things delicately with my
fingertips.  And when I was at ease I draped my hands by bending
them at the wrist as if to show them off.  All distinctly feminine
gestures.  OK, so now I'm a limp-wristed faggot, I told myself. 
But who'd know?  I look pretty, and my nails are pretty, and I'm
proud of it, and my wife loves me and admires me and wants me this
way, so I don't care.  When I want to be pretty I can be, and that
makes for wonderful morale!

Hayley deliberately took us both downtown, and saw to it that we
were window shopping on Main Street at noon, when all the high rise
office buildings release their employees for lunch, clusters of
girls and clumps of men all eyeing each other.  Not one male eye
overlooked my slim waist and thin shoulders and wavy-hair and wide
eyes, because there were enormous-seeming boobs thrust out in front
of them.  At first I was embarrassed, then annoyed, but after an
hour it got to be kind of fun.  Hayley was right.  If I turned
suddenly and cocked my hip and flipped my skirt, as if by accident,
tongues did seem to hit the sidewalk.  I threw my shoulders far
back and thrust my breasts far forward, and held my head high, and
before we'd gone an additional block two men were onto us!

"Can we help you?" one of them asked as pleasantly as any man I
have ever heard.  "Are you looking for a particular store or
restaurant in this vicinity?"

Hayley looked at me, waiting to hear my response.

I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a fetching manner.  "We
might be.  Do you know if anyone around here sells anything that
might fit us, or anything we might enjoy eating?"

The other man choked, and nearly exploded with coughing.  The first
man's eyes lit up like a skyrocket.

Hayley intervened.  "Never mind, boys.  It's nice of you to offer,
but we already know where we're going.  Come on, Berry."  

Barely able to contain herself, she took me by the elbow and
hustled me into the nearest store, which happened to be a boutique. 
There we both burst into irrepressible laughter.   

"I've unleashed a monster!" she said.  "You're terrible!  What
would you have done if they'd glued themselves to us and we
couldn't scrape them off?  Given them what you hinted?"  

I didn't know.  I was playing the flirt, as Hayley had suggested. 
I wasn't thinking of the consequences.  I tried to tell her that,
but the words got caught up in more choking giggles.

"You'd better pull in your tits and your tush just a little, and
avoid looking men in the eye, or the next thing you know you'll be
asking some prosperous out-of-towner about his mineral deposits
while he tells you how he'd love to pump your oil reserves."  She
looked at me with a crafty expression.  "Maybe you'd like that?"  

I shook my head no vigorously, troubled now.  This new power to
make other men dance attendance was fascinating, certain kinds of
men anyhow.  But I certainly didn't want them any closer than those
two had gotten.

"When you think you're ready to compromise your virtue, honey, let
me make the arrangements.  It's safer."  She looked around.  "Oh,
Berry, that dress over there, that little pointelle with the
dropped waistline?  It's perfect for your figure!  You must try it
on!"

We bought it.  I protested that she was going overboard with all
these purchases.  "It isn't necessary," I said.  "Why accumulate
costumes?  I'll figure out something."  

Hayley just looked at me with a wry smile, then bought me a
seamless bra of my own, and two other kinds too, over my protests. 


"Look, over there, they have 'minimizer' bras." I said.  "Maybe
with one of those I can dress like a man again?"  

Hayley just looked at me.  "But even then you'll still be a man who
wears a bra, won't you?" she said.  "What kind of a man is that? 
You do keep fighting this thing, Berry!  Why don't we just keep
going and see what happens.  Your implants are probably getting
ready to complete this process anyhow.  Then you'll find out what
you don't seem to know, that it's wonderful to be a woman.  It's
even addictive!"

It was fun, nice in some ways, I admitted, though I doubted it
would be for me.  But we agreed that the next day I'd try a "Boy
Day."  I'd do what I needed to do to recover my masculinity, if I
could, and solve the problems caused by my protruding tits, if I
could, and be myself again.  

I was so eager to get back to my former life that I slept very
little.  Day finally dawned, and I woke groggy.

"Well, I guess there's a man in my bed this morning," Hayley
informed me on waking up.  "Does this man have anything on his
mind?"

"You!" I said, and immediately I began to lick her engorged nipples
while at the same time stroking her slit, then entering it with
first one and then two fingers.  She shuddered, and climaxed as the
second finger entered.  

"I do love feeling warm bony meat moving in there," she told me. 
"Have you a third finger not too busy at the moment?"

I did.  She was hot!  Already well-lubricated, her pussy dripped,
and the fluids in her breasts seeped out, and I covered my mouth
and my face and my hands with both.  She tensed, then eased yet a
second time.  Another orgasm!  "Now come into me, sweetie," she
said.  "Use your boneless bone!"

I tried.  But though my cock felt engorged, even rock-hard, it
wasn't!  I mounted her and tried thrusting.  My penis seemed to
enlarge a little more, but it still wasn't stiff enough to
penetrate.

"How frustrating for both of us," Hayley declared. "Let's just see
if this works!"  And she took hold of my member and kneaded it
gently. It felt good, but nothing! 

Then unexpectedly, she bent and took it into her mouth.  She'd
never done that before!  The warm, moist enclosure increased the
turgidity just enough, so as she pulled her face away I shifted my
weight and slid into her.  

"My breasts!"  she whispered, tensely.  Then, "Yes!" as I slid a
nipple into my mouth and rolled the other between my fingers. 
"Yes!" she said again as I started to pump into her and felt her
breasts fill my mouth with sweetness, then "Oh, yesssss!" as she
orgasmed yet again.  I pumped harder, and felt her pussy
contracting on me.  

Then as I came, she stopped moving her pelvis, though her body
heaved up at me to push her breasts even deeper into my mouth!  As
I began to squirt she asked, "Are you still in me?"  With my second
spurt I slipped out.  My third squirted onto the bed sheets between
her legs, and that was all there were.  Even though I was still in
orgasm, I'd gone soft again!

She could feel what had happened.  "It's all right, darling. 
You'll see!  Those hormones in your breasts are circulating through
your whole body now, that's all.  You'll love what they do!  Here,
let me kiss this sweet little thing good night!"  

Kiss my sweet little thing when it hadn't even performed well for
her?  Amazing!   She'd usually let me go down on her because she
saw it gave me pleasure to kiss her quim, and she enjoyed it too. 
But she'd never gone down on me!  And now, twice?  Did she
understand that pleasure better now that Patti'd gone down on her,
and she'd gone down on Patti, maybe?  Had she done that with Patti? 
She'd been vague about that -- did I misunderstand her?  No matter! 
Now, for the first time, of her own volition, she'd mouthed me! 
Not for long, hardly at all really!  But now again!  If this was
what we'd be doing from now on, then maybe carrying breasts around
would be worth it!  

She wriggled down, then licked my soft cock head like a child's
lollipop, and then kissed the tip.  

"There!" she said to my now-limp prick.  "Go to sleep, little clit! 
When you wake up you'll be living a new life, and all this won't
matter at all to you any more!"  

Then she straightened up with her lips glistening, and kissed my
lips.  She tasted slightly salty, sticky-slippery.  My residual
semen I supposed.  "It's so yummy!" she said.  "Isn't it?"

"Yes," I said.  "Your kiss is 'sweeter than wine,' as they say in
the folk song."

"Not really sweet," she replied.  "Salty.  But I've gotten to like
it, I really have.  We'll do more of this!"

"I'm for that!" I said, with a certain enthusiasm.  What a set of
surprises today!  She thinks my cum tastes yummy?  She likes the
feel of my prick in her mouth?  She now wants to give me blow jobs
regularly?

"I want you to like it too," she continued.

"Oh, honey, I do!" I said.  I remembered again the velvet feel of
her warm, moist mouth on my cock!

That answer puzzled her.  "Both the salty flavor and the slick feel
on your tongue?  You know that just from the little bit on my lips? 
That lick and a promise?  Baby, maybe I should have waited longer
on that first date, when you were getting it on with that gay man
and I interrupted!  Well, I'll see to it that you get as much as
your heart desires."

My turn to be baffled, but this was no time to seek clarification. 
Today I was guy!  A guy with tits, but no one had to know that! 
I'd quickly forget them myself.  You get used to things.  And maybe
tonight my wife would give me a long, slow, extended blow job!

When I returned from my shower I found that Hayley had left a pair
of my men's slacks on our bed, along with a flower-printed
short-sleeved sport shirt I'd bought in Hawaii but then thought too
gaudy.  "It's cut big," she said.  "And you'll need a bold pattern
to hide those gorgeous tits of yours.  Or at least to distract
attention from them.  Here, let me give them each a kiss before you
cover them up!"  

She bent, and reverently took each in her mouth, and tongued and
sucked each briefly.  It was an odd sensation.  Mostly just
licking, and the wet pressure of her lips, but also there was a
hint of something unfamiliar, a yearning joy that began in my
nipples and spread across my whole chest and became almost a
craving.  I saw her watching me out of the corners of her eyes as
I came aware of these new feelings.  "Your boobies are waking up,
I see," she said.  "Are you sure you don't want to wear a bra
today?"

"This is a boy day, baby," I said.  "Today I do boy things!"  And
I pulled on my boxer shorts and pulled on proper pants for the
first time in nearly a week.  When I fastened them, they slipped
off my hips and fell down to the floor.  So I pushed a belt through
the loops and cinched it into the last hole.  They fell down a
second time.  I took out a pen knife and poked a hole two inches
further along in the belt, while Hayley watched, amused.  

"My big little mans," she said.  "Your pants are all bunched up
around your slim, lovely waist now, but never mind, your shirt will
cover it.  What a waste, with a figure like that, that you aren't
wearing a thin slipover and skin-tight slacks!"  

The new belt holes held, just.  The Hawaiian shirt fit fine, just. 
My breasts hung naked inside and hinted that they were there, the
nipples poking at the front panels.  But the splashing red and
yellow Bouganvillea print obscured them, as did its sprays of
tropical leaves.  I slipped on a pair of loafers.

"Where's my wallet?" I asked, feeling myself now finally my own man
again.  

"I suppose still in your purse," Hayley said, looking at me, for
some reason her lips faintly amused.  "Your car keys too.  And your
tampons, remember."

"And where's my purse?"

"On the front hall table, where you left it.  Really, honey, you
must learn to keep track of your things!  A girl's purse is her
most precious possession."

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't notice where I put it down when we came
in last night," I said.  "I'll try to do better."  I felt so
embarrassed that I didn't even notice we were talking about it as
"my" purse -- "my" most precious possession.  Even on a boy day, in
my own mind as well as hers, I was one of the purse-carrying kind. 
A girl.

"Baby, before you go, may I make a few more suggestions?" Hayley
was looking at me now with her wide-eyed, 'I know something you
don't know!' look.  I decided I didn't want to know.  Today there
would be no compromises.

"No time, now, honey," I said.  "I'm off!"  And I left the house
before she could suggest anything.  No compromises with my
masculinity either!  

When I returned late that afternoon I was tired, puzzled, and
demoralized.  It had been a vexing day, and on top of everything
else my body was feeling ... well ... odd, not well.  I wanted to
unburden myself on Hayley, but she was out, her car gone from the
garage.  So I just sat in the living room as it grew later, and I
was feeling very peculiar indeed when finally it began to grow
dark.  We were near the summer solstice, it got dark late.  I had
gotten a little queasy, and had begun to perspire heavily.

Finally Hayley's car pulled in, and then Hayley.  "Hi, honey," she
said brightly as she came in and saw me sitting in the gloom. 
"I've been having such fun being a girl!  You have a nice time
being a boy?  Did you miss me?"

"Yes," I said.  "I mean, yes I missed you."  I was about to ask her
the forbidden question 'Where were you?' but that would distract us
from what was most on my mind.  So I answered, "I didn't have a
nice time, no, not at all.  It was very frustrating, I hardly
connected up with anyone.  And my boobs began to swell up in
mid-afternoon!  And now I don't feel at all well."

Hayley immediately looked concerned.  "The second wave, I suspect. 
Now your body has to adjust to all the new things Dr. Portland put
into you, until you learn to make your own.  She said it'd take a
few days to peak and then another few to ease off, remember?  My
poor dear!  But then it's done, and it's a small price to pay for
what you get!  Let's get you to bed right now."

She helped me upstairs and into that short babydoll I'd found
myself wearing a few days earlier.  Though this was still my boy
day, I didn't object.  She pulled up the covers and kissed me
lovingly.  I felt so grateful!

She put her cool hand on my forehead.  "Now tell me about it"

end 6/10
VickieTern@AOL.COM

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