The plot: A man's wife encourages his erotic fantasies and his emasculation by suggesting to him that she's seeing other men.
The caution: This story depicts sexual acts between consenting adults. Those who are not both of these things should read no further.
The story descriptors: TG femdom wife humil creampie

 

An Unfaithful Wife

by Vickie Tern

 

The next morning she kissed me immediately on waking up and suggested we shower together, "like two girls who've just felt the first delicate fingers of love caress them." We soaped each other down and ran our hands all over each other's bodies in child-like delight, the way teenagers do when they first discover there can be such delights. It was a Saturday—we took our time. When Cassie finally went off to dress she handed me her bottle of body lotion and asked me to use it, but first to shave my whole body so I'd feel as smooth and silky as I had under the shower. I did. It felt nice. No problem, though the lotion did smell a bit flowery. A girl's smell, but she wanted me that way. Women like flowery scents, I reasoned, so this way she'll like me all the more.

As I shaved my face I saw that my lipstick and eye make-up were still in place, not even smudged. Experimentally, I fluffed my hair to see the effect. I did look effeminate. No, not effeminate, let's face it, I looked feminine, girlish, and that's what it had pleased her to call me. All right, this was our new pretend game.

I went into the bedroom, and still wrapped in my towel I sat down next to her on her vanity bench. She smiled a greeting at me in the mirror while I looked over all the bottles, tubes, vials, and pads spread out before her.

"Next time wrap your towel higher, baby," she said. "Your nipples are showing. They give me wicked ideas. Have I told you yet how lovely you smell?"

I grinned. She was still teasing me, but that was fine! "Honey, are any of these bottles for removing my make-up?" I asked her.

She put down a large fluffy brush she'd been using to pink her cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart," she said. "You don't want to do that! Not today! Remove your make-up? You look so cute! And we're going out later!"

I looked in the mirror. "Cassie, I look like a girl, done up like this!"

She beamed approval at my reflection. "Exactly! Jerry's girlfriend is now my girl! Full time! From now on every time you go down on me. Every time we make love. Tonight, tomorrow, every time from now on. Sometimes on no notice! So do leave it on, it'll save us a lot of bother. Here, let me show you how to refresh it!"

She picked up a mascara wand, the fresh mascara on it still glistening, and turned toward me.

"Cassie, whenever you'd like me to be your girl and wear make-up, of course I will. But otherwise I don't think so."

"Honey, I'd like you to. I want you to get accustomed to seeing yourself in make-up. To love what you see. So you don't look quite right to yourself when you're not wearing it."

I still felt stubborn. She looked at me with her blank, earnest face, and added, "Honey, I'm trying to help us! I want us to stay together. I don't want to lose you! I'm looking for every conceivable way I can think of to keep you, to make you happier with me than with any other woman in the world. So you'll really and truly be mine! Please?"

That was not quite what she'd ever said before. It was unexpected. My sweet Cassie's voice actually sounded desperate! What was happening?

I thought I'd better talk in a conciliatory manner. "And my looking like a pretty girl will make me happy?" I asked.

"Being one. I know it will!" She sounded vehement.

I looked at her, even more surprised. She then seemed to back off. "Not just because you're already pretty, love, and you wiggle so fetchingly when you walk, and you're already habituated to cocksucking and cuntlapping both, though those are all good reasons why a pretty girl should feel happy. Because you love compromising your manhood! Because you know you're happiest when you're most humiliated and emasculated, and that's when I'm happiest too! And you love making me happy! Are those good reasons?"

She then tried making light of it. "Think of this too. There's also Jerry. He doesn't seem to care whether it's a man or a woman who's sucking his cock. Persuade him to prefer women!"

I pressed her further. "Why does humiliating or emasculating me make you happy, Cassie?"

She was silent. Then, "You know. Because you love it, and I love you. I know deep down you want it, and I want you to have everything you want, so I want to liberate you from whatever denies you what you want. And I have fantasies too. I'd love it if you were more like me, my dearest friend as well as my soulmate. Manly men are everywhere, but a man who sacrifices his manliness because his beloved wants him to? Priceless!"

She looked thoughtful, then added, "And I can't deny it, I like how it feels, being in charge, working my will and my wiles on you. I love it, that I can actually do this to you, change your gender identity in your own mind. Because I can. Because that's how I am." She paused again. "Are those enough reasons?"

I didn't answer her, so she continued.

"People are more complicated than we know. Tell me this. Why do you like to imagine I'm having sex with other men when you don't need to, and you don't know that I do, and you don't want to know, and it's possible or probable that I don't?"

"I don't like to! I hate it! It drives me crazy!"

"Then why do you do it? Because you love being driven crazy? Yes! Because to feel helplessly jealous is a sexual desire as intense as any you've ever felt. You get off on it, that's why you do it. Why would you torment yourself otherwise? There's no evidence. There's no smoking gun."

I was silenced. I saw her point.

"Well, maybe that's why I want you to think it's true that I really am fucking better men behind your back. Because it's exciting for you. Because it's exciting for both of us!"

"And is it true?"

"What do you think?"

I had no answer I could share with her. A long silence followed.

Then Cassie resumed earnestly, "Honey, think of it this way. When you're being a woman for me, you're less of a man. Less deserving of me in your own eyes. That's when it's easier for you to imagine I'd prefer someone who's more of a man. Isn't that so?"

Reluctantly, I had to answer "Yes."

She held out her arms. "That's why I want you to be a woman for me. Not just so you'll torture yourself with your own supposed inadequacy, but to move you past all that stuff into another world altogether! Where it no longer matters! Where you no longer need to imagine anything! You're my own true dear, and I love you with all my heart, and I've told you repeatedly that I'll never leave you and I'll never want you to leave me. But you must accept this. My love for you has nothing to do with your manliness. In any man to man competition with most of the men I know, you'd lose! Think of Jason, with his far better body and more decisive personality. Think of even poor dumb Jerry, with his huge cock and compliant disposition, who does whatever anyone asks him to do. They're both more manly! Honey, don't even try to compete! Don't torment yourself! Yes, be my husband sometimes, but be my girlfriend all the time! You'll love it! We both will!"

My resistance evaporated. And as that happened I became euphoric. I wanted her to close her arms around me. "Cassie," I said. "I don't understand what you've uncovered in me, but all right. I'll do what you want. Whatever it takes!"

She held back a moment. "'Whatever it takes?' Is that what you said?"

"Yes. I trust you. I want what you want."

"Oh, sweetheart!" She hugged me, and I hugged her, and we hugged each other for the longest time. It was so beautiful!

She pulled back suddenly, her eyes sly, also playful. "You know, it just occurs to me, if you're willing to become my girlfriend, you won't need to wonder whether I'm having extramarital sex or not. If I am, I can take you along to watch!"

She was joking. "If you are," I said, "why not take me along to watch just as I am?"

She playfully slapped my cheek. "You just don't understand men, do you sweetheart? The men we're talking about would never allow another man to watch. Suppose one of them wants to take me to his hotel room. Would he want to take another man to? Whereas all a woman needs to say is 'Oh, goodie, do you mind terribly if I watch?' and no man could ever refuse. This isn't love after all, it's sex. Voyeurism adds to the excitement. Another woman watching, what man could resist?"

She was right. And that sobered me up.

"I wouldn't want you to do that, Cassie. Whether I'm watching or not."

"Of course you wouldn't want me to. But you do know I could do it, any time. Just think how you'd feel if I did it while you were watching. Terrible, helplessly lost, I'm sure. All those things we've talked about. You get a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach just from thinking about it. You probably have one now."

"Yes."

"But you'd also be thrilled beyond belief! You know that! Isn't your cock straining even now at the idea of it? Have you ever felt more vital?"

She knew. She leaned over and kissed me sweetly on the lips, small pecks, over and over. Her downward glance confirmed the obvious, that my prick was rigid to the point of pain. "So beautiful. So helpless. You're almost ready," she said. "Isn't feeling helpless beautiful? Just wait! I promise you, girlfriend, one of these days, if it turns out I'm having sex with anyone other than you, I'll take you along to watch. You will see it, I promise. There'll be no more tormenting yourself with speculations and suspicions. You'll know. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

I didn't know. I just stared at her. Cassie saw the fear, the panic, but also the lurking readiness in my eyes, and nodded. "I promise," she whispered, and she kissed me once again.

Then she turned all business. "Sit down then."

I did. She held back for a moment, doubtful. Then spoke.

"You want tits, honey. Without them you won't feel quite right. You won't look womanly. No matter how pretty you may turn out, I won't feel right about you. Does that give you pause?"

It did, but I hesitated only a moment. If she wanted to buy me breast forms, sure. I'd make a more convincing woman that way. "Yes," I said. "It gives me pause. But I still want what you want."

Cassie was again impressed. Her eyes had tears in them. As I kissed away them away she whispered, "Thank you, darling! I hoped you'd say that! I do love you, I do, I do!"

What could I say after that? I was hers. I'd placed myself altogether in her hands. And she was far from done.

She refreshed my make-up. She wordlessly handed me her white panties, her bridal panties, her deal-closing panties, even though they were still a little stained from whatever she'd done yesterday. With Jason. If anything. I felt a twinge of arousal just thinking about it, and I'm sure that was Cassie's intention. I put them on as if an insignia of rank.

Then came the matching bra from that same set. "Your first bra, sweetheart," she said. "It was my first as a married woman, and now its your first too. I hope you'll be as happy with it as you've made me."

It felt a little tight, but when she pulled my nearby chest flab into the cups, it remained there. I had small mounds on my chest. She studied them. "Yes," she said. And glanced at me and said nothing more.

"No breast forms?" I asked. "No stuffing? You said I need tits, didn't you?"

"No," she said. "No breast forms for you. I want to cop a feel of your nipples whenever I feel like it, and I want you to love the feeling every time. Even when it happens in public. You'll prefer access too. Your nipples are very sensitive. We don't want to cover them with padding."

I couldn't argue. I loved the delicate touch of her fingertips on my nipples. The previous night's play had been heaven.

"Won't I look a little flat-chested then?" I asked. Having finally agreed to be her girl as well as her husband, I felt relieved of the burden of choice. I felt lighthearted. "Doesn't a plain Jane like me need to offer the world unquestionable evidence that I'm a girl so they won't wonder if I'm really a boy in drag? Unquestionable evidence such as tits?"

"Be patient, honey. They'll be there, sooner than you think."

Something in her tone of voice stopped me. She wasn't jesting. She was serious. I looked at her.

"Sweetheart, you just said it. 'Whatever it takes.' And 'I want what you want.' And you meant it, I know you did. I hope so now with all my heart."

"Yes," I said. "I did. And I do mean it." Here comes something serious, I was thinking. The room suddenly seemed still. Neither of us moved.

"Your tits are on the way. You're looking at them now. You're feeling them whenever I touch your nipples. They're growing larger and more sensitive every day, your nipples and your breasts too."

I looked down. It was true. The bra Cassie'd given me had shaped and contained and thrust forward into small mounds what I'd thought was flab. It wasn't. My bra cups were full, and what I'd thought was flab wasn't anywhere elsewhere evident on my chest—my bra cups contained all of it. It hadn't been flab but breasts.

"I'm growing breasts," I said. My voice sounded too deep for a statement like that.

Cassie looked at me, quiet, not quite tense, and nodded. "Yes, you are," she said.

"How?" I asked.

"It came to me when you first started sucking off Mr. D, as one more way you could become what you were ashamed and yet pleased to imagine you were. The cum you've been swallowing contains female hormones. The more cum you've been willing to swallow, the more female hormones you've absorbed. Each squirt of Mr. D's cock and Jerry's has been laced with estrogen and progestin. Lots. You've been willingly swallowing several doses daily for months, and taking more into your ass too, using Jerry's prick as a high-colonic suppository. You're already on your second gallon of Jerry's cum you know. Sometimes for fun I've filled my vagina with it for you, and you've licked that out too. If you'd wanted to be a gay man with your lovers, that would have been different. But you haven't been a gay man. You've been a girl. More of a girl than you realized."

I sat silent. Then, as quietly as I could ask, "Cassie, why?"

"You know why, sweetie. I've told you over and over. Because deep down, with all that male humiliation and pain and outrage and betrayal you love, you really do want to undermine your own manhood. You're happy to be rid of it, with all its obligations and tensions. That's why you do the female things I tell you, why you surrender yourself to me and your own imagined femininity. I want to help you make it real."

That might be true. But it wasn't enough reason. "You want to help me make it real," I repeated, a little annoyed. "Why? Because you love me and want me to have everything I want? That won't wash. You know I don't want it as much as you want it."

"No, honey, you fear it as much as you want it. But there's another reason that has to do with me."

"What could that be?"

"I've told you. You haven't listened. Because I love you more than life itself and I never want to lose you, and this way we can stay together for the rest of our lives."

"Cassie, you've said that before. How does this keep us together?"

"Because you're marvelous. You can change. You have changed already. I can't."

"What does that mean?"

Cassie sat silent, looking at me. Then said simply, "Honey, you're filling a B cup now. Your mother was a C cup, to judge by your family pictures, so that's where you'll probably end up. But you and Jerry have gotten on so well lately, you've swallowed so much of him, that you could end up a D. You'll find all three sizes in your underwear drawer. From now on wear them, for decency's sake when you're out in public. And for your own sake too, or else in a year or so you'll find that your boobs sag below your belly."

She'd changed the subject. I was feeling tricked. I'd made choices, true, but not this one. Not exactly. I had to ask one more question.

"Honey, is this reversible? Do I now have a choice?"

She looked at me, and said simply, "Your body's proportions are set, sweetheart. Those hips, that tush, those luscious curves that already attract so much attention when you wear tight pants and wiggle when you walk. They're yours for life now, as long as you watch your calories. Your softened, feminized facial features -- you never noticed that happening? -- the same. There's breast reduction surgery of course, but that could cost you your nipple sensitivity, and I know you won't want to give that up. So no, it isn't reversible. You could have been a gay man, but there came a time to choose and you felt more comfortable as a woman, and that's what you're becoming. More and more."

She still sounded tentative, as if fearful that I might do something drastic. "You did agree to act out feminine sexuality, you know. And much of what goes along with it. You chose to go along. And you do love it. You can't deny that."

I paused and absorbed the full implications. "This is what you want?" I asked, staring her straight into her face. "You arranged this because this is what you want?"

"Yes," she said, staring straight back. But her voice quavered.

"Because you love me?" I said. This time my voice quavered.

"With all my heart, dearest!" She was near tears. The way she said it, I couldn't doubt she meant it. "More than life itself," she added. I knew she meant that too.

It's a sentimental cliche whenever anyone says it, but this time I thought I might actually be holding a life in my hands. I had to speak very carefully. I felt trapped and humiliated, but that strange glow in my belly betrayed me. Perversely, I couldn't deny it, I was pleased.

"Will I know some day why?" I asked.

"You know already," she replied. "You just don't want to believe what you know."

I couldn't deal with that. Not at all. Not yet. Another long pause.

"The cum I've tasted in you? That wasn't some other man's after all?"

Cassie looked slantwise at me. "I didn't say that, darling."

If I was willing, she intended to continue this game!

"Well," I said. Then silence. I was thinking. I was trying to accept all this as inevitable. What would a real man do if the woman he loved had done this to him? Yes, of course, but what did I want to do?

Preserve what I do have. Go with it. Maybe even enjoy the disgrace. Maybe even exult in it! See what else happens!

My God! And I once called myself a man?

I had to say it quickly or I'd never say it. I did love her, and she was still looking at me hopefully, but anxiously too, frightened.

"Cassie, I can't." Her face started to collapse, so I went on hurriedly. "I don't have a thing to wear. Can you lend me a blouse and skirt, or at least a dress for my morning session with Jerry? We always have breakfast together, you know, Jerry and I. He provides the breakfast."

"Yes," Cassie said. "Oh, yes! Oh, darling, yes! Everything you'll ever want, always!"

And like a tidal river bursting its banks, she rushed formard and flowed all over me, covering me with kisses.

I could only hug her back and say no more. We stared into each other's faces for the longest time. Her mascara hadn't run at all, so probably neither had mine. I knew by her face, without looking into a mirror, that despite all our tears I was still pretty. To judge by the way Cassie was looking at me at that moment, I was radiantly beautiful. As she certainly was.

When we'd done with kissing each other and unfolded from each other's arms, Cassie reached into her closet and completed my outfit with a simple flowered T shirt and a denim skirt. "That's good enough for Jerry," she said. "He's only a man, men never really notice what we're wearing anyhow."

She was in much better humor, at last. "Work your womanly wiles on him, gorgeous," she told me. "Seduce him. I want to watch."

Jerry was now waiting for me in the guest bedroom. His erection when he saw me and I took it into my mouth was no larger, and his climactic cum spurted no more profusely when I hugged him to climax. I swallowed it all, its hormones and my own incipient womanhood, glancing over to where Cassie was watching. I saw that she saw. This time she saw me deliberately committing myself to womanhood, not just fantasying. She saw I'd forgiven her.

For me it was also different. I was no longer a feminized man committed to self-abasement. As I stroked and positioned that cock, I felt more coy and more slyly calculating, and when I began to lick its huge knob I felt oddly triumphant! As a man I'd been Jerry's lover only to comply with Cassie's kinky insistence that I explore my insecurities, and I'd always been a little ashamed of the pleasures I took from him. Sucking Jerry's cock had been a form of performance art, self-enactment as a gay man or as a compliant woman defined as myself, self-abasement for the delusive thrill of it. But as a woman it was different. I was sucking him to express my own sexuality and empowerment, to learn more about how to manipulate men and how to appreciate them. I granted Jerry the privilege of intimacy with my mouth, and I enjoyed his gratitude as it spurted down my throat.

Cassie watched, and could tell it was different for me now. "You'll be perfect," she whispered as I licked the last of Jerry's cum off my lips. "You'll enjoy making men groan whenever you flick your tongue. But now, sweetheart, it's time for Jerry to give you your very first full fuck as a woman."

I was eager to try that too. I pulled off my bridal panties, pulled Jerry down on top of me, and unhesitatingly guided him into me. There then followed a wild time! I humped and gyrated under him, and pushed at his hips in a mad effort to get him to fuck my most sensitive places. He responded to every push with a shove. At my peak, in full orgasm, my ass spasmed repeatedly on his long, fat sausage as that thing squirted more estrogen cum deep into me, into my guts. Then I couldn't help it, I had to crush my lips against his lips and kiss him passionately. This beautiful man had made me a woman! Never mind that he wasn't real! I loved him for the all the pleasure he had given me—nothing else mattered.

I was still recovering my breath when I felt Cassie hand gently stroking my hair. I lifted ny head to press it against her hand, blissfully, like a petted puppy. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart," she said quietly. "You're so much like me."

 

When she first advised me to wear bras so my new breasts wouldn't sag, Cassie'd also warned me wear them for decency's sake "in public." That had worried me. This transformation and the shame and glory entailed was still a private matter. Except for my forgetful hip-weaving the day her bridge club met, my subjugation and feminizing had happened privately in our own home, indoors. But bras and breasts are visible. To take actual womanhood into the streets or some other public place, to be seen as what I was becoming, that seemed unthinkable.

No longer. When dinner time came around Cassie phoned for a pizza while I prepared a salad. Then when the pizza delivery boy came she happened to be on the phone talking about escrows with a client.

"You get it, honey!" she called out.

"But ...!" I began.

"You'll have to! You're still in full make-up, and your boobs show through the T-shirt. You're a girl! Just fluff your hair and smile at him. Make his day!"

There was nothing for it, I pushed up my hair a few times and opened the door, stood there boldly a moment, then took the box and paid the boy and tipped him. Barely glancing at me, he said, "Thank you, ma'am!" and quickly disappeared down our walk back to his little delivery car.

That was my inaugural appearance in the outer world. My maiden voyage.

When I told Cassie, she was delighted and kissed me. "You've been seen! Your first outing! Now we need a real coming out party!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, afraid I knew just what she meant.

"You need to believe in yourself. That you are what you're becoming. What you seem to be already. The easiest way is to see for yourself that others believe that's what you are." She smiled. "That sounds complicated. What it means is, we all grow into other people's expectations for us, the way puppies grow into oversized feet, and you're growing into your boobs. When others think you're a girl, you'll forget to feel self-conscious about it. When it seems normal, natural, and ordinary for everyone to think you're a girl, that's when you'll truly believe it yourself."

There was something wrong here. "Cassie," I said. "I thought what you wanted for me was humiliation, because along with it comes this perverse joy! Now you want me to accept all this as a commonplace?"

"Only the feminized part of you. I want everyone who knew you to forget you were ever a man, and I want everyone else to assume you're woman. You too. But then it won't be over, love. Remember, you'll still feel aroused and humiliated whenever you suspect I'm having sex somewhere with a real man. In fact you'll feel all the more impotent—if I may use the word—when that happens. Because you won't even be the semblance of a real man any more. A real man's jealousy or indignation or anger won't be anything you can lay claim to any more, so you'll feel all the more helpless and deprived. Maybe envious instead of jealous?"

That hurt. "What do you mean, Cassie? I'm still a real man inside!"

"Are you, sweetie? A real man wearing full makeup and a cute denim skirt and a round rear and a flowered top with little mounds poking out? Swallowing female hormones you suck from a man's prick? If you were any kind of man you'd be mortified to let your wife see you prancing and primping around the house as you do, even though she herself first proposed it. But you're quite at ease with it now, aren't you. No self-consciousness about it at all. Isn't that so?"

It was so.

"Then again, we've been sharing Jerry for how long now? When I see you lying under him with your legs spread wide, moaning and pumping your hips at him frantically, do you think I think you're a real man at that moment? You've rounded a corner, honey. You shouldn't be ashamed to be thought a woman any more. The man in you may have been ashamed—all that threatened male ego! I wanted to get you past that, and you seem to be. Now that you're persuaded you're a woman, or becoming one, you've got no real manhood left to defend, do you?"

I thought I did, but I couldn't let Cassie know that. I was still a little ashamed of the way I looked even though I now took pride in my appearance when Cassie approved it. I looked like a woman, mostly. But my mirror still saw a man pretending to be a woman. I didn't want to be seen by anyone else.

"And I love you this way! I love it when you believe you're a woman. It strengthens you. You yourself pointed it out. Women don't feel insecure about their appeal to other women, the way men do. There's no contest."

That wasn't exactly what I'd said. Or if it was, it somehow wasn't what I'd meant.

"We need to nurture your new belief in yourself. You need to know that others see and accept what you've become. So to finish dinner we're going out for cake and coffee to that lovely little dessert store by the delicatessen at the end of the street. We'll walk, it's only two blocks."

There was an edge in her voice that I recognized—no contradictory opinions tolerated. So I said rather hopelessly, "Cassie, I'm comfortable looking and acting the way I do, and it's becoming the way I am, and I appreciate everything you've done for me that way, but I can't appear in public looking like this!"

A sick fear was taking shape in my gut. I was pathetic enough, pussywhipped into dressing and behaving like this, even thinking that's what I was. But the outside world would see me as a ludicrous freak.

"Of course you can. And you will. You'll be fine. Your make-up is perfect, no retouching needed. Maybe you should change your skirt—Jerry wrinkled it while he was banging you earlier tonight, there are reasons why we undress for sex, and you should know them even if Jerry doesn't. I'll bring you another. Your T shirt's fine—it displays your little breasts quite nicely. So how can anyone doubt you? Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you a push-up bra with a touch of cleavage? You've agreed to live the rest of your life as a woman, so let it all hang out?"

"Cassie! I never said ...!"

But I did wear another skirt, and the push-up bra she brought me enlarged my breasts and gave them a touch of cleavage. We walked out to the sidewalk as she insisted, past lawns and houses like our own, and down the length of our street into the small lighted mall at the far end. She insisted I walk with my chest thrust way out—"You are not a teen-age girl with bad posture," she said. "Don't try to hide inside yourself. Stand tall and be proud, honey."

"I'm a little scared," I told her.

"Of what? Now that you're out, the world awaits. Tomorrow we'll get your ears pierced, maybe your nails done. Commit you so you can't even dream you were once a man. You'll be fine when you know there's no choice, no going back."

"Cassie, there's always choice."

"Not for you any more, sweetheart." Cassie's voice was level and serious. "I needed your cooperation and I've gotten it, and now you're doing this to yourself. Soon all your exit doors will be closed, sealed shut, and then you'll be mine forever, you'll never be able to leave me, no matter what."

I still didn't understand most of that, but since I had no intention of leaving Cassie ever, it didn't matter. I was still apprehensive, deathly afraid the whole time that a neighbor would see us and recognize me. But sidewalks in the suburbs are for kids on bicycles, joggers, children awaiting school busses, cleaning help, and on rare occasion strolling couples like us. We passed no one.

As we launched toward the distant haven of a dessert and coffee shop Cassie reminded me to keep my hips in motion and thighs together, one foot in front of the other, not merely ahead and alongside. It wasn't necessary. I'd had lots of practice for months, and I was so accustomed I hadn't been aware of it even that day Cassie's bridge club got an eyefull. But now, swaying down our long street, fearful of exposure, still wondering why Cassie wanted me this way, I became extremely self-conscious. Without intending to, I overdid it. I swiveled down the street with my rear end wagging to and fro in an obscene invitation to every passerby.

Fortunately, the few who noticed didn't try their luck with me—my proper if attractive companion may have inhibited them somewhat. Cassie was altogether at ease. She maintained a constant girl-to-girl chatter about friends I scarcely knew, a new associate at the office who was seducing his way down the secretarial pool, a contract dispute she was mediating, and her problems shopping for sexy underwear that wasn't whorish to wear on special occasions.

"Such as what?" I asked, as suspicious as always but trying not to let it show.

"We'll find some for you too, honey," was all she replied.

As we crossed into populated areas and into the coffee shop, Cassie congratulated me but also cautioned me. "You're a very attractive young woman," she said. "There's no need to feel ashamed or embarrassed by that fact. Men will approach you, no question of it. If so, for now maintain a polite distance. There's no need to invite their attention. Which is to say, there's no reason for you to wave your hips about quite that openly. Not yet. Wait. Once your ass rounds out a bit more, I'm sure every man who sees you from the rear will be eager to replace Jerry in your affections and your asshole."

"I wish you wouldn't talk about me attracting men," I said. "I'm not not gay, I'm only a girl, remember."

She grinned at that, and I realized what I'd just said. Then she continued. "You'll find out what men think you are. No fear. When it comes time to unveil your full-grown tits and your gorgeous new rear end, you'll surely be there."

Our expedition may have made me a little apprehensive, but it was actually pleasant, uneventful. No one in the little coffee shop glanced up when two young women entered and sat down, me with my knees decorously touching as instructed. The waitress took our order—I gave mine in a squeak—and returned with our cappucinos. We chatted in low voices, Cassie maintaining a steady stream of advice, her tone of voice reassuring, more to keep me calm than to invite conversation, the way a teenage girl speaks to a skittish horse. By the time we got up to stroll home I felt comfortable in this new world, no longer concerned I might be seen as the wrong gender. Whichever that might be.

Then as we left the coffee shop, a man who was just entering held the door open for us. "Ladies," he said, as I passed him by quickly. Cassie took her time, then paused in the doorway, so close that he could neither move nor release the door. "Thank you," she said, looking up at him pleasantly, her face not six inches away from his. "It's lovely to know that a real gentleman lives in this neighborhood!" She had that challenging, intent, flirtatious look I'd seen so often at her office parties.

I was suddenly aware that I was helpless. There was nothing I could do to assert a husbandly authority over a flirtatious wife without revealing myself, without enduring public humiliation. Was this why Cassie had maneuvered me into the streets in a skirt? To free herself to pick up men under my nose while I stood by? To accustom me to helpless passivity and provide me with yet another moment of perverse arousal?

She wasn't finished. "Do you come to this coffee shop often?"

"Every night," he said. "I live nearby. Do you?"

"Yes, we do," she replied. "My friend here and I." She kept her eyes on his, and waited.

The man got the message and drew himself up and suggested we all go back inside. Cassie glanced at me, my face distraught. "Not tonight," she said. "But I'll look for you. I'm Cassie." And she turned toward me, her purpose accomplished.

"Tim Corrigan," he replied to her back. "I'll look for you too. And you are ...?" he asked me."

I felt unaccountably strange. "Hallie," I replied in a breathy squeal, standing very still. It came out sounding quite seductive.

He stood there staring at me we moved on, indecisive whether to proceed inside or to seize the opportunity and follow us. Gentlemanliness prevailed. "Nice to meet you, Hallie," he told me. "And you too, Cassie. I hope we'll meet again," he added as if an afterthought. And he continued on in.

Cassie was amused. "'Hallie' is it now, finally, Hal? You named yourself as if in the last throes of an orgasm. To the first man you meet! Poor Jerry. Fated to die of a broken heart or a neglected cock, whichever comes first."

She was teasing me. I didn't want to sound disturbed, so I had no choice as her 'friend' but to tease her back. "Don't pretend, Cassie! You stopped in that doorway so you could jump his bones then and there!"

"No, honey, it was for your sake," she said seriously. "So you can jump his bones. I've seen you with Jerry, remember. No girl has ever been more hard up for a man than you are! I heard you. Did you feel desireable? Did it feel good?"

I thought only a second, then said "Yes. It did. Very good."

"Yes, it does. Now you know why I love to flirt. The feelings that come with a 'come hither' glance or tone of voice are exquisite. Aren't they?"

I thought especially of my changed attitude toward Jerry, now that I was deliberately looking feminine. "Yes," I replied. "I had no idea."

"Well, I did. I wanted you to delight in those kinds of feelings. Aren't they wonderful?" She turned and kissed me.

We walked home hand in hand affectionately, like schoolgirls or like lovers, not concerned who might see us. My mind was a mess. But my cock had gone turgid, already at half mast. Oh, God, what was I becoming?!

When we got home, Cassie didn't hesitate. Straight onto the living room couch, her jeans and panties off, one leg on the back of the couch, one on the floor, and without a word I dived in. Her honeypot was incredibly sweet, like flowing nectar. I loved it. So did she, several times over before we both paused for breath.

Then as we lay together she told me I couldn't enter her dressed as I was, made up as I was. Nor could she suck me. "I see you as a girl now," she said. "It wouldn't be right," she said.

So she sent me for a condom, then when I was sheathed in it she stroked me to climax, kissing my nose and ears and cheeks over and over the whole time with little affectionate pecks, her hand pumping steadily, never pausing. I throbbed against her fist, and filled the rubber.

She then told me to lie on my back so she could drip the contents of the condom onto my tongue. I didn't want to, but Cassie insisted. "It's too delicious to waste," she whispered. "Never hesitate to swallow cum! At least taste the authentic bittersweet saltiness, and enjoy the slick feel on your lips. Here!"

And she upended the condom. A drool of cloudy fluid began to ooze out. "Stick out your tongue," she said. I did. "Now lick!" she said. I did. "Again!" she said. Out came my tongue, and more of my jism dribbled onto it. "Oh, good," she said. "My sweet baby. Oh, lovely. You dear creature! Don't waste a drop!"

I didn't.

"Better than Jerry, isn't it? And better than mixed with my cum? No hormones mixed in, but now that we're moving on we'll make other arrangements. You can take pills the way other women do. Or take shots, or use a patch."

I was troubled. "You say it wouldn't feel right to have sex with me the usual way, while I'm a girl," I said. "Will it ever feel right?"

"It might, Hallie," she said, watching me. "Are you willing to wear Mr. D when you do me? That's how girls do it."

I had no answer.

"Let's go to bed," she said, kissing me gently on my cum-coated lips. "Just the two of us. Leave Jerry where he is. This has been a very big day for you. We two girls need to hug each other."

I agreed. I felt sweetly sad. Something had been gained, but something had been lost. I needed my wife. When were in bed together, we kissed and then hugged. "You're a sweet darling," she said, her hand stroking my cheek, her lips grazing mine, her breath hot on my face. "I'll never leave you. You're mine for life!"

"Yes," I said. "And you're mine."

No response. She'd fallen asleep.

 

When Sunday morning rolled around, I felt better, but a little moody still. Cassie could sense it, and made no effort to suggest I wake up Jerry before we did anything else.

"Honey, now will you show me which of these is your make-up remover? I can't find anything labeled like that except your nail polish remover, and I certainly don't want that stuff anywhere near my eyes."

"You're a dear, and I will. Or I would, except that I looked for some yesterday myself, and I guess we're out. We need to buy more. I'll come with you if you like. Who knows, we might meet another nice man like the one who talked to us last night."

"We?" Cassie, this is your idea, not mine! I don't want ...!"

"Oh, sweetheart," she said. "Need I repeat it? When you dress like a woman, look like a woman, and behave like a woman, men do take notice. You know that! You'll simply have to learn to deal with it. This is your life. Live it! I'll go with you. We'll start with the drug store, and then move on."

"What do you mean, move on where?"

"I mean you need cleansing cream and also other hormones. You need to roam, to go out more. Also, there's a woman's special delight, shopping, Malls are open in Sundays, and you said it, you haven't a thing to wear. You need everything. You have those stretch pants, but you need to didplay your body in other ways too, be more proud of it. And also to begin having fun with your fashion sense. Like tights topped by a cute mini, so when you sway your butt you can feel the miniskirt swishing from side to side and the eyeballs of everyone watching doing the same thing.

We moved on, through many stores. Every evening we became only two more women shopping together the way women do, and I stopped worrying. Cassie provided the hormone pills and I started taking them on my own, so my feminizing wouldn't depend exclusively on Jerry's cum. Two weeks later all of my male clothing had been packed away to make room for my new female clothing. That was all I wore now, whether with Cassie or on my own. I spent most of the day in jeans and a T-shirt or peasant blouse, wearing peds and flats, though it pleased me to dress up and feel pretty sometimes when I felt like seducing Jerry. And always, by the time Cassie got home I was stylishly dressed and made up. I tried hard to delight her with my appearance, to try to earn her rare respectful compliments. I was always overjoyed when I succeeded.

 

Meanwhile I ignored several opportunities to increase my client base, and my consulting settled into relaxed, undemanding, occasional phone inquiries on a retainer basis. I had Cassie's firm on retainer, though they never needed me. Until, maybe a month after my "conversion" as Cassie called it, there came a crisis. At mid-morning Clarice called. "Hal, pick up!" I heard her say through the speakerphone. "Cassie needs you! We all do!"

I'd just finished putting on my face so I'd be pretty for Jerry. Well, really for me, as a point of personal pride, but like most women I pretended it was for a boyfriend who would never notice anyhow. Cassie'd gotten me a subscription to Cosmo so I'd know What Every Woman Knows, and I'd read there that the secret of eye make-up is to use just enough so your eyes look large and innocent, like a baby's, yet sly and knowing, like a bad girl in the movies. And to try to be both. That way a man doesn't feel threatened by your sexuality, yet can feel desired by it. That made sense. I was trying out a wide-eyed vamp look, my hair pinned upswept in a French twist, wearing a pencil-thin faded denim skirt Cassie'd laid out for me, and a see-through blouse, and heels I'd selected myself, when I heard Clarice's call for help and picked up.

"Hal, Cassie says grab any jacket from the front hall closet and come at once, it doesn't matter what, and get over here. Our computer tech quit and may have left a virus behind—one by one our screens are going dark."

"One by one?" I said. "I'll be right there."

I was in the car backing down the driveway when I came aware that for the first time I was driving to a place where people knew me as Hal, and I was wearing high heels, a skirt, a see-through blouse with fully visible lace bra, and the only matching jacket in the closet, Cassie's flower-embroidered denim. And full make-up. And a woman's hair style. When I went walking through malls, no one noticed me, I passed persuasively as long as I kept my hips prim. But now my whole world was about to change. Everyone knew I was Cassie's husband, but done up as her attractive girlfriend? What would they think? The last scrap of my manhood was about to disappear from view. Of other people's belief in my manhood, anyhow.

It was better yet worse. I didn't remind anyone of my former self. Clarice was downstairs waiting to meet me to get me past the guard, and didn't recognize me until I stood in front of her and uttered a deep-voiced "It's me, Clarice." She was momentarily startled, but then her expression narrowed to intense interest. She glanced at the guard desk, then back at me, and took a deep breath, no doubt to restrain an outpouring of questions. "This way, honey," she said, as she would have said to any new secretary or receptionist, to put her at her ease. As we rode up in the elevator, she looked me up and down.

"Is it still Hal?"

"Hallie."

She completed her inspection by noting my newly pierced ears with their keeper posts. "Very nice," she ventured finally. "I love your skirt. You're nicely dressed for support work in a legal office, Hallie, sexy but chic. Sophisticated. You'll like it here. Cassie advises you on your wardrobe?"

"Yes," I said in the medium register voice I'd cultivated for minimal unavoidable use. "She picked out this outfit for me this morning."

"I thought so. Good taste shows. Love your hairdo too. I'd keep that jacket buttoned though. If some of the guys here saw that blouse and those boobies underneath they'd be all over you." She paused. "They're real, aren't they?"

"Yes," I said.

"Your boy friends like them? They want you to look like this? I thought men who date men like their men to look like men. No?"

"As far as I know they do, Clarice. I don't have a boy friend." Was I slighting Jerry? "Not really, anyhow. I dress like this for my own reasons." Cassie's reasons, mostly, I added to myself, but they're mine now.

"Ooooh?" Enlightenment shone all over Clarice's face. "Then you're transitioning?"

"Yes," I said, not quite sure what she meant.

"Honey, I had a brother who did just what you're doing! She had to change jobs after the hormones kicked in, and there were some rocky times afterward, but since her surgery she's been just fine! She's the happiest woman in the world!" The elevator halted, and the doors slid open. As she stepped out she turned back toward me, gestured magniloquently, and said, "Welcome to womanhood, honey! And welcome to the seventeenth floor! You'll love both! The partners and legal staff are on the next floor up, as you know, but that's there and this is here. Down here is support staff, where all the work accumulates. Here is where we do whatever they say. It flows downhill, you know."

A half dozen people gathered around the reception desk overheard her and turned toward us. I'd never met any of them, thank goodness! My humiliation was postponed.

"Bill, Maria, Tina, Everett, Erika, ah, oh, everybody, this is Hallie. Hallie, everybody. I see no one's working. Hallie's come to fix the computers.

"Hi, Hallie," the bright young receptionist with brilliant scarlet lipstick and nails said to me. "I'm the Maria part of what Clarice just said. Cassie said that when you arrive, get you started right away. So I'll take you to the tech's office, and maybe you'll see something." She walked rapidly down the hall and I followed. Her backside weaved in ways as exaggerated as mine had been. Cute.

"How do you come to know Cassie?" she asked without turning around as we navigated a labyrinth of doors and work stations, corridor after corridor.

"We've been room-mates," I replied. This was wonderful, in a way, I was thinking. This is my chance actually to explore what really being female is like. Probably no one on this whole floor is knows I'm a man!

As for the computer situation, I knew the system well enough to have figured what happened while I was still in the car. Not a virus, but a badly networked practical joke. The previous techie had kicked up his heels on departure and left opportunities for overtime pay for his unknown replacement. I could get things going again in very little time I estimated, probably by noon. But then I'd be days and days re-stabilizing each computer in every office so they could be safely shut down again. There were probably hundreds.

"Well, I'll leave you here," she said, pausing in front of a cubby-sized office loaded inside with equipment. "Do you think you'll be free for lunch?"

"Oh, I should be," I said. "But then to get things done right will probably take days."

"Oh, longer I should think. Cassie told Personnel to start you with a year's contract with an option to renew. She wants you exclusive, here every day from now on, just in case. So you might as well get to know all of us. There's a rotating bunch of us girls who have lunch together every day, maybe a half-dozen each time, not always the same half-dozen. The Lunch Bunch. Lots of gossip. You're welcome to join."

"Thank you," I said. "I'd like that very much!" I'd been conceiving myself a girl in my own mind for months, and seen to be one by others for weeks. Now I'd find out how it felt in social situations with lots of give and take! Wonderful! I wondered if I could get away with it. I'd better, I told myself. I felt a flutter in my tummy. I mean my gut.

"I'll come by and get you then at noon. It'll be fun. We'll tell you who's sleeping with anybody at the moment, and where all the bodies are buried. Survival stuff you need to know when some of the guys come by to hit on you. As they will. Are you attached?"

"I don't know," I said. I didn't want to implicate Cassie without a cover story she'd approved.

She smiled, and added, "Obviously not very, anyhow. You're wearing a see-through blouse with no slip. Naughty!" And Maria turned away and was gone.

I sat down at the array of computers the young techie had left behind, booted up, and saw at a glance what he'd done. No problem. The software files had the necessary correction programs, though as anticipated I'd need to change the hardware switches in every computer in the system to keep the same problem from recurring when it was switched off. That might take weeks. I wondered why Cassie had set me up for a year or more.

Only a half-hour later I clicked a command and heard all sorts of muffled cheers emerge from offices and workstations all over the floor, as screens went back on. I then sent a "SySop" e-mail to each cautioning everyone to leave their machines on until I could make adjustments to preclude similar events. Back came a an e-mail warning of risks to the confidentiality of files if machines stay on and hoping the adjustments would come soon. And another telling me how great it was to have a system operator who uses the word "preclude." And there was an IM from Maria saying "!! Hallie!! :-) See you in ten!"

I looked—it was almost noon. Barely time to check my hair—thankfully, the make-up Cassie provided both of us never smeared or needed much refreshing. Then Maria appeared at the door beaming. "Are you as good at everything else too?" she asked.

"Some things I'm still learning," I replied evasively, and picked up my purse, reminding myself to keep my thighs together no matter what!

"Oh? You like to try new things? Then watch out for Denise. She loves new things."

There was a downstairs restaurant where the "Lunch Bunch" met every day, and we were quickly seated.

"Our usual table," Maria explained. "The owner seems to feel he owes us."

"He does indeed," another impeccably dressed doll-faced woman said. "Or I send his wife a compromising picture I took of us once in his office back there, and he knows it. Nothing happened, I'm not into guys, that's the amusing part. But she'd never believe that, and he knows that too, so it keeps this table reserved for us. Hi, I'm Denise. 'Dennie.' You're the new Wonder Woman who just put us all back to work?"

"Hallie," I said, taking her extended hand and smiling back at her. "I do try." I sat down and was introduced to two girls from the typing pool, and ordered a salad. I was almost down to the ultra slim waistline Cassie thought went best with my figure.

They resumed a conversation they'd been having when we arrived. "So what did you decide?" Denise asked one of the typists.

"Oh, I'm having them done," she replied. "A walk-in procedure, no big deal. A week to heal, and I'll feel a lot better afterward."

"That depends on who's doing the feeling," Maria said with a wicked smile. "I wouldn't do that to myself just to give a man more to grab onto."

"I mean my self-esteem, I'll feel better about myself," she said a little defiantly. Then added more shyly, "And collagen implants in my nipples are supposed to increase their feeling enormously. That's what they say. I'll let you know."

That seemed to quiet the group down. Reason enough for breast enhancement, they seemed to think. I could agree.

"Have you ever had boob work done, Hallie," Denise asked. "Judging by their exposure in that blouse, you're pretty proud of them."

"No, they're still growing," I said. Then since that might sound odd for a girl in her mid-twenties, I added, "I just went on the pill, and that fills them out."

"The pill, eh?" Denise commented. "I suppose you have your reasons. You're seeing someone?"

"No, no one. Well, there's one guy, we're friends, but he feels free to act as if I weren't even in the room." That's Jerry, I told myself. And that's me making a clever remark about him.

"Like that guy Cassie sees sometimes," Maria told the assembled, me included. "That gynecologist she's been incorporating."

"In more ways than one," Denise added, grinning.

"Yes, no matter who walks in and sees what they're doing, he doesn't even slow down."

I absorbed this information with a bit of shock. "Don't ...ah, we all see gynecologists?" I tried to ask innocently.

"Yes," Maria said. "But we go to their offices. This guy comes to Cassie's. He's up there three, four times a week."

"In more ways than one," Denise added again.

"For an hour or more each time, with the door closed," Maria finished. "Clarice says that listening to the sounds they make, she has to call her husband to come home early to help her out, and go home early herself, and she says that as often as not she has to help herself out even before it's time to go home."

I sat silent at this news, the old feeling twisting in my belly. Cassie with another man? Confirmed?

"You said you were her roommate once," Maria said to me. "Was she always like this?"

"Not so I knew about it," I said. Treacherously, my prick had began to harden in my panties! My God, how shameful! Cassie was certainly right that I get off on humiliation!

"I bet her husband doesn't know either," Denise said. "Or maybe he doesn't care. I saw him once at an office party. He was real cute, but he was wearing tight pants and pretty obviously waving his ass at the men. Word has it he's gay. Can you blame her for getting it wherever she finds it?"

None of us could. "I saw her gynecologist once," one of the typists said. "Big handsome guy. He could cover any two of us with that gorgeous body. Maybe fill any two of us too."

"Anatomically improbable," Denise said. "Well, I've got to go."

We took our purses and stood up. "My treat," Maria said, leaving some bills. "Tomorrow you can treat me."

"Or me," Denise said, smiling at me, looking me straight in the eyes, and just barely touching my arm. "You do look a treat, Hallie!" And she bustled away.

There was no question of it. Tuned in or not, that was a pass. And from a lesbian. I wondered if it was impersonal, that Denise routinely approaches and flirts with every woman she meets, or if this was going to be something of problem.

Meanwhile I was still absorbing the devastating gossip I'd heard. Was it only gossip? Cassie indeed having an affair? My stomach sank even lower under its heavy burden.

The other two girls went off, flashing white teeth and pleasantries, and Maria took me back up to my closet-sized office. I was beginning to find my way around the rabbit warren of cubbies on this floor.

"On this floor you can get lost," Maria said. "Upstairs, where the lawyers and their associates work, there are fewer corridors and more open spaces, more conference rooms and things. Oh look, you have two more messages. Well, we both have work. See ya!"

As she disappeared I called out in my careful mid-level voice, "I'll come fix you next."

"I can't wait," she called out without turning around. "But unless you mean my computer, you'll have to stand in line!" And she raised her hand and twisted her wrist in friendly farewell.

I sat down. The first message was from Personnel, asking me to stop by to sign some papers before leaving the building today. I couldn't do that until I asked Cassie what was going on, why I wasn't just here on an emergency basis. I'd already done what needed an expert, the rest was routine for any 16 year old. And I had clients. Not many, but they were mine!

As if she were reading my mind, the second note was from Cassie. From Clarice, actually. It read "Cassie's office. 3:00pm prompt. Cassie says with your jacket unbuttoned."

That was odd, but also in a way re-assuring. There were these rumors about my wife and her gynecologist, when weren't there such rumors about women and gynecologists, especially the handsome kind? Did it mean, come prepared to work? Come in a casual mood? Did it mean Cassie wanted to sneak a peek at my breasts? She had taken to caressing my newly extruded nipples when we were in bed, knowing it sent me into the clouds of heaven. Was she telling me to anticipate more of that?

I changed the screen hardware toggles on Maria's computer and a few others down the hall, working counter-clockwise, only a few hundred more to go, when I saw it was nearly three. So I got into the elevator and went up one floor. I'd been there before, so I knew to turn left leaving the elevator, and almost immediately I found myself confronting Clarice at her desk.

"Ah, there you are, honey! Right on time. Jacket unbuttoned, too, they look just lovely. I love a lace-trimmed satin bra on a gorgeous girl! Is that one Olga or Victoria's Secret? Well, never you mind, sweetie, you can tell me later. He's waiting."

"He? Isn't this Cassie's office?" I looked around. Yes, there was her sign on the door.

Clarice stood up. "Go on in, babe. The doctor awaits. Cassie told me that at this point I should make myself scarce. Call if you need me, though I won't be here to hear you!" She grinned at me, picked up a stack of legal papers, went out the archway separating her from the wide corridor, and disappeared around a corner.

I walked in. "Close the door behind you, please," a man's deep voice said. I did, and looked toward the sound of the voice.

No Cassie anywhere visible. But sitting—lounging might be the better word—on the couch just to my right was a large, bronzed, good-looking man, the kind you know was four-letter in college and has never known failure, whether in career or sex or anything else. He was inspecting me good naturedly. Hungrily? I clutched my purse close to me and just stood there.

"You're Hallie, then," he said genially. "Cassie's new little lady. I've been hearing a lot about you!"

I just stood there, a little frightened. This man's presence filled that whole corner of the room. Where was Cassie?

"I'm Dr. Burton," he said, making no effort to get up or to extend a hand. "Alex, you can call me. I've known your wife a long time. We go way back."

"I see," I said.

"No, not yet you don't. You don't see. We're very fond of each other, Cassie and I. Very fond. Don't mistake me, she loves you, she's told you I'm sure that she can't live without you, and I'm sure that's true. She feels for you with a depth and intensity far beyond anything she feels for me."

I tried to think of something to say, and couldn't.

"What we feel for each other is more like affection than love. And more like lust than love too, I have to say. More like a physical craving. She loves you, but she needs to clamp her body against mine and cram me into her as often as possible. She can't get enough. And I feel this powerful need to help the poor woman out. So we go out of our way to see each other, often. She's protected you from finding out for the sake of your self-esteem and your marriage, so you probably don't know that your wife has these ... needs that only certain kinds of men can fill fully. I'm fortunate to be one of them. The only one always in town, what with my practice and all. Other men come and go, but I'm always available. So she sees me most often."

He paused. "Not that you don't satisfy her physical needs too, certain of them. Or rather, not that you didn't once upon a time, until Cassie saw that sooner or later her relationship with you would endanger her relationships with other better men. Much worse, that her relationships with other better men had her relationship with you at terrible risk. Because you might get jealous if you suspected, and angry, and then do something stupid and hurtful like divorce her. Even though like most insecure men you get off on being jealous, it's arousing, it fulfills a deep need in you to feel humiliated But like most men you can't acknowledge it and simply enjoy it. Cassie's had to teach you how to do that—I hear you picked up on the erotic part pretty quickly. So when you finally found out about your wife's daily escapades with other men, you wouldn't mind. So in fact you'd get off on it, maybe love it as much as she does!"

I'd been masturbating to that suspicion for months! Cassie'd set me up so I wanted to believe it!

"Some men can have problems with wives who are highly sexed. They can't satisfy them, and can't live with them, yet can't live without them either. Apparently you're one of those."

"But you can," I said suddenly, resentfully. I'd been hearing out this smug man's speech with rising animosity. "Satisfy women like that, I mean. Live with or without them."

The doctor straightened his shoulders just a bit, and grinned at me. "Oh, my, yes! I've always been able to satisfy any woman's needs. Cassie's been telling me about yours and I've been advising her. You aren't quite as confident as I am. Not quite as capable, not as dominant in your relationships, in fact you prefer to be submissive to your women, don't you. To Cassie, anyhow. In sexual matters you prefer taking orders to giving them. You may resent it, what man wouldn't? But that only makes your surrender more complete. Look how easily you ceded to your wife that most private and precious sexual right, the right to pleasure yourself on demand. To masturbate. She told you she was oversexed and masturbates herself often. Did you restrict or inhibit her or shame her? No, withoin a few minutes you'd agreed not to masturbate yourself except with her permission. Was that a rational response or did it answer to some far deeper need?"

He paused while what he'd just said sank in. "And look at you now. Committed to live as a woman. Cassie hints she may be having sex with other men, and once that suspicion is planted in you it transforms you into a woman who agrees only to have womanly sex with her, never again to fuck her. She even tells you some of the reasons why she's transforming you, why you're agreeing to change your gender, even your body, and you accept it all. Just today you've abandoned your own consulting firm for a less challenging job working for her firm, haven't you? To work for your own wife, in effect, since she's in charge of office personnel. Well, all right, you haven't quite reconciled yourself to it, not yet, not altogether. But you know you will. Tomorrow you'll be lunching again quite happily with the other girls who serve the dominant professionals who work on this floor. You'll be one of them. And if Cassie chooses, you'll be one of them for the rest of your life."

I was now utterly silent. It was true. I resisted the idea, but it was nevertheless strangely attractive. Was that what Cassie wanted?

"This was all Cassie's idea. She thought up the testing and conditioning ideas and situations, that dildo and that modified display dummy, for example, so you could become habituated to your new role as a woman and be grateful for it. I supplied the hormones when it became apparent that you'd want them sooner or later anyhow the way things were going. And when she was most worried that she might alienate you, that she was losing you, I supplied the moral support. And also all the cock she needed when she had to deprive herself of yours, when you reached a stage in your conditioning where you could no longer act as her husband. Where you had to become her lesbian lover and Jerry's wife."

He smiled. "You may not be happy to hear that I've supplied some of the cum you've been swallowing down like a good little girl. Jerry's cum hasn't ever been altogether artificial. In fact you've sampled all of Cassie's lovers by now, you'll have to ask her how many. All that sperm carefully brought back to you in the condoms they used to fuck her, then mixed in with Jerry's. Or brought back warm in her vagina, where it mixed with who knows who else's, maybe even Jerry's. Yours too, until she had to deny you your masculine rights to her vagina so your femininity could flourish."

"Hallie, two things remain and then your manhood will be gone irretrievably. One of them I can provide now—for the other, Cassie has other plans. She insists you lose all trace of that manhood, for fear you might find it somehow suddenly, and it'll assert itself as wounded masculine pride, and then she'll lose you. And though I can't imagine why, she does love you, dearer than life as she says. She can't tolerate that possibility. Greater love hath no woman, than to give up her husband's masculinity, to feminize him against the day he finds out about her infidelities."

He paused to scrutinize me while I simply stood there. "All right," he resumed. "I don't ordinarily do men, but you're scarcely that any more, so I'll allow it. I'll help with one of the things she wants done. I'll allow you to suck my cock. A warm, live one this time, with warm, live sperm your reward if you do it right. Right here, right now. Later you'll do it in my office, probably every other week, you'll have to call for an appointment, when you come in for your hormone injections. Cassie does love you and worry about you, so she's asked me to give you your sustaining hormones by injection rather than by mouth. There are fewer complications. While you're bending over to receive them you can show your gratitude by receiving me at the same time. As Cassie has done so often before. And that will be your payment for services rendered."

He now sat straight up. "Now leave your purse on the desk over there, dear, and come take me into your mouth. Show Cassie how grateful you are that you're now in touch with your most hidden desires."

"She isn't here," I said, grasping at any excuse not to.

"Oh yes I am, sweetie," Cassie's voice replied from my left. I looked. There was a large armchair to the left of the door. I'd forgotten. She'd been sitting in it the whole time, listening. So everything this man had said was true!

I stared,

"Sweetheart," she said. "Suck him off. I'll explain later. Just do it, for my sake. The way you've done Jerry a thousand times. I've been boasting to Alex what a marvelous cocksucker you've become. Now you can show him personally. Kneel down in front of him and let your mouth earn the gratitude and affection Jerry can never show you. Alex's is the superior cock of every woman's dreams, and your most exquisitely tormented dreams. It's fucked me many times and will fuck me many more, I hope. So love it. Kiss it. Suck on it just as we've anticipated you would. This is your most sublime moment, baby girl. Your apotheosis. Do it!"

She came around to where I was standing stolidly, and kissed me. "When I kiss you again, let me taste his cum on your lips. Let me share with you the taste of his cum, lover."

"Cassie!" I began to say. I had my pride, after all!

"Just do it!" she broke in, gently but firmly. "Like a good girl! Do it!"

What could I do? I stepped forward. I spread my skirt and I knelt down. I leaned forward. I unzipped him and took out his magnificent long staff, my God, easily the equal of Jerry's—and I'd thought Jerry's waa an exaggerated fantasy! Could I stop now? I opened my mouth and took him in hand and then into my mouth. I sucked. As I sucked, and licked, and pulled at it, and pushed it into my throat and bobbed my head, I realized that it was like Jerry's down to the last vein. Jerry's was modeled on this one. All my pleasuring of Jerry had been a rehearsal for this moment of authentic revelation, and I'd not known until now. I clamped my lips tight and slid them up and down, and groaned. He did too.

No time at all seemed to pass when suddenly his cock rose up and pulsed and spurted rich semen into my mouth, and I swallowed it, almost all of it. A familiar flavor. "You were right, Cassie," I heard his voice say above me. "He's great! He really puts his heart into it."

Then when I stood up and turned around, there was Cassie. She took my head in both her hands and pressed her mouth to mine, and licked the cum off my lips as she'd promised. Exploring a kind of ecstasy of her own, eyes closed, dreamlike, her tongue roamed the corners and ridges of my lips until saliva was all there was left.

She then pressed her forehead against mine, and stared directly into my eyes, and said in a whisper, "Honey, I know without looking that your cock is rampant. Probably painfully swollen. I want you to relieve yourself. Do you want to relieve yourself?"

"Yes," I squealed, almost pathetically. "Yes, I do."

"There are rubbers in your purse, I put them there this morning before I left. Put one on. You have my full permission to masturbate. But now you need to decide where. You can do it right here and watch Alex fuck me slowly, beautifully, magnificently, and you can time your climax so you cum as we cum, so we all three cum together in what I am sure will be the most satisfying moment of your life. Or if that's too unbearable, you can go straight back to your cubicle, close the door, imagine what we're doing, and cum as quickly or as slowly as you wish, alone with your own thoughts. Which will it be?

My mouth was dry. Which was more humiliating? "Here," was all I could say. I could scarcely breathe it.

She looked at me all the more intently. "Good!" she said. Then, pointing to the chair where she'd sat and watched and listened while Alex enlightened me and I sucked him off, she said "There!"

I sat, and fumbled for the rubbers in my purse. Sure enough, there they were. I pulled up my skirt and released my iron-stiff, painfully swollen cock from my panties and took it in hand, and rolled the condom down on it, and waited.

"Oh yes," Cassie said. "While you masturbate your penis, be sure you squeeze and caress your nipples. You'll have one hand free. You're a girl now, and that will be the best part of it."

Alex then stood and stripped himself naked, his eyes on me the whole time. Cassie looked steadfastly at him and slowly, provocatively, peeled off her own clothing. It was like some obscene ritual, each preparing for the sacrifice of the other and both for my sacrifice. When they were each utterly naked, Alex's marvelous body broad and muscular, his prick ascended yet again, my wife's body rounded, beautifully soft, her tits perfect, Alex stepped aside and Cassie arranged herself comfortably on the couch. Then opened her legs wide, smiling in anticiation at him and glancing at me to be sure I was watching.

Carefully, Alex lay down between those legs, and gently pressed himself into her. All the way. It took a long while for him to enter her, it seemed. She let out an enormous sigh. Now I am a cuckold, I told myself. There is no more doubt of it.

And then the slow stroking and withdrawing began. Mine too, in rhythm with theirs. Their pace slowly picked up, as did mine, until Alex's whole body like some magnificent stallion's seemed to be lunging and plunging into her, Cassie like some incredibly skilled bareback rider clinging to him with her legs, rising and falling with him. The two of them groaned incoherent throat sounds at each other. I clutched first one of my small breasts through my satin bra, then the other, my fingers pinching my nipples as electric shocks passed through them into my groin. My other hand was a blur, pistoning my cock. Finally, as Alex thrust mightily deep, deep into her and pushed her whole body almost out of sight into the seat cushions, their cries became shrieks, and mine did too as my twinkling fingers on my nipples and my flashing fist on my cock pushed me too over the edge. The intensity of my joy and of my humiliation were so great that I passed out.

When I came to and opened my eyes, Cassie and Alex were more relaxed, grinning and looking into each other's eyes with thankful admiration. Not with love, I could see that. Alex kissed Cassie's nose affectionately, and she kissed his playfully. Then she looked over at me, concerned to know if I'd enjoyed it as much as she had. I could see the love in her eyes.

Why me? I'd never understood it. I still didn't.

"Now pull that condom off carefully, sweetheart, you darling girl of my heart, and tip it up over your mouth and drink it down. You know how to do that."

I did it.

Cassie motioned Alex away and spread her legs wide toward me. "Now come taste Alex's cum from out of my brimming bowl. You've done it before. Now do it knowing what it is. Enjoy it for what it is."

I did that too.

Alex sat down in my chair and watched. He was enjoying himself, watching a feminized, submissive man suck his cum yet again, this time out of his own wife's cunt. There was no doubt of that. But I sensed a sadness in him. He was also jealous. There was something between Cassie and me he'd never felt with any woman, and as he was realizing, never would experience.

Fifteen minutes and two orgasms later Cassie disengaged her pussy lips from my mouth by pulling back her pelvis, and said, "That was so very good, dear. I'm so glad you'll be working close by. I'll want to call on you for this often. Now go back to your work. Remember to stop by personnel before you go home, to sign those papers. As Hallie. You're Hallie now and will be Hallie for the rest of your life. My Hallie."

She kissed me gently, tenderly, on my lips. I barely could purse them to kiss her back. "I'll see you at home," she whispered.

Then while Alex stood up, glanced at his watch, and dressed himself, preparing to leave, Cassie picked up her clothes and disappeared into the small powder room just off her office. I waited. When she reappeared almost perfectly attired again, her hair still slightly mussed—as I'd seen it often when she came home from work—Alex had gone. "Still here?" she asked me. She then walked over to her desk, sat down, picked up a file, and dismissed me from her attention.

"Yes," I replied. "This is how I want to remember you as I leave."

She looked up as if indifferent, but then lost control and melted happily into my eyes as I did into hers. We perfectly understood each other.

As I opened the door and walked into the outer office, there was Clarice sitting once again at her desk. She knew everything. She didn't know how I felt about it.

"No one ever said that being a woman was easy," she told me sympathetically as I walked past her. "Just try to remember that in the end, it's worth it."

It was. It had been glorious. I'd surrendered everything, and it was worth it. In a way, I'd come home, arrived at something essentially mine. When I got back to my cubicle I checked my lipstick. Perfect, though my whole face was now glistening with Alex's semen. It didn't matter. Men like to get their rocks off. I'd earned the love of a women who loved me more than her own life, and I loved her with the same impassioned commitment.

I went into the ladies' room to rinse Alex's stuff off, and as I touched up my mascara I realized that I'd never been happier. I was ready to lick anything out of Cassie's pussy in sheer gratitude for this moment. Anything. I adored her! She'd given me the greatest gifts it was in her power to give me. The love of one woman for another, and that other woman's love for her own womanhood.

 

That evening at dinner I started one of those conversations where I already knew both sides of whatever would be said. "Cassie," I asked. "Why did you call me to handle that computer system malfunction? There were people in the building who could have done as well as I did. There are plenty of people who can re-jump the office monitors -- for me that's three weeks of scutwork, tops.

"Because now that Jerry's taught you everything he can about being a woman and you no longer need him during the day, I wanted to know that you're close by me. That makes me happy. Because it was time you heard and saw how I use my sexuality when I'm away from you, time you replaced your suspicions with realities, and decided whether you can love the real me. I couldn't stand not knowing whether you love the real me. Because I wanted to see you better settled in your own social life as a girl, happier in it, better rounded, safer from temptation, a girl who's frequently hit on by other men he'll never accept, a girl among other girls who think of you only as a friend, never as a lover who might take you away from me. I hear you've already joined a women's lunch group, and that you all had fun gossiping. That's lovely. Do it daily, and you'll soon realize you're not an isolated sex freak but what you are now, just one more girl, well-socialized, enjoying her new life."

She looked at me intently as she added, "Because that's what you are now, honey. You can run from it, but you can't hide. And I love you like this. Just like this. I want you to love it too."

Then she relaxed again. "Also, hiring you seemed to me good for the firm. The system malfunction gave us an ideal opportunity to bring in a woman techie who is highly competent, deserving of everyone's respect, and by the time you've re-done their individual computers, known to everyone."

"Oh?" I asked. "You knew I'd need to visit every computer in every office?"

"Yes, of course. I asked that young techie you replaced to fix up that very accidental shut-down, set to take place the day he left, and he did. I'm pleased. He certainly earned his severance pay bonus. By the end of next week everyone in the firm will know by personal acquaintance that our new techie is a woman in a field where women aren't often seen, and not too bad looking either. You'll be a real person known to many people, part of a workplace team. Not just a concept in your own mind or mine."

I didn't like being manipulated like this. "Cassie, I have my own clients," I said.

"Of course you do. And you can tend to them from your little cubicle at the office—if you'd read your contract before signing it you'd know you've reserved that right. The tech job isn't that time-consuming. Routine maintenance mostly, and putting out small fires, mostly reassuring the very secretaries who will be your new friends. We'll drive in to work and go home together except when I have other engagements. It'll be convenient for both of us."

I had no answer to that.

"I'll love knowing that you're close by, love. You might want to keep a closer eye on me too, now that you know what I do when I'm not working. If you wish, you can watch me get it on with Alex again, or with anyone else who's willing to let you watch. I enjoyed this afternoon more than any other adulterous fucking I've ever done. For the first time I felt altogether free of the fear of you finding out and leaving me. I could never bear that possibility—it subdued so many of my orgasms with other men. But now no longer. You enjoyed jerking yourself off, too, and that added to my pleasure this afternoon. My orgasm was overwhelming! I dedicated it to you as I crossed over the edge and it took possession of me. I do hope for many more now as we grow closer and grow old together. You'll always be the person I'm fucking in my mind, no matter whose cock is in me."

She got up, came around the table, and kissed me. On my lips, hers soft on mine, woman to woman. "I'm going to so love coming home at all hours," she whispered, "Knowing that no explanations will ever again be necessary. Isn't that a delicious thought for you too?

"If we travel together and are known to live together, won't people guess who I am? Your husband? A converted male?"

"Not really. Mostly no. I've told Clarice to let the word out that my husband ran off with a Trucker and is keeping him happy sexually somewhere in the mid-west. That Hallie is my old college room-mate and has moved in with me while she looks for a place of her own she'll never find. Some who saw you at one of our parties may work it out for themselves—you did do some swishing about showing off your new derriere in stretch pants at the last one. But you'll only be seen in skirts from now on. And you hadn't started in with lipstick and eye make-up then, so you weren't being too obvious. And anyhow if they do figure it they'll keep it to themselves. There are advantages to my being head of the personnel committee."

"Then I work for you, now?"

"In effect, yes. You're support staff for me now. As long as we both shall live. I'd love for you to be my personal secretary, in fact, so Clarice can concentrate on her legal work for me, and you can schedule my other needs. You know, like keep my appointment book, remind me where I should be and when, and with which man. I'd love that. But we need your computer skills more I'm afraid. Oh darling, I'm so very happy."

Then came something unexpected. "Now for a surprise. Let's go for dessert to that little shop where you first presented yourself to the world."

I saw no reason why not. It was a mild evening. As we entered, that man who'd held the door open for us, Tim someone, Corrigan, stood up and said, "Ah, there you are. I've wondered if I'd gotten the day wrong."

He then kissed Cassie solidly on the lips. They knew each other? They'd seen each other since that first chance meeting in the doorway? Evidently! Was Cassie on intimate terms with every man she knew? I'd been suspecting a few, but I should suspect all of them? Corrigan then turned and to my amazement took my head in both his hands and held it and kissed me on the lips too. It was my first kiss from a real man, and over before I could register pleasure or revulsion, or anything at all.

"You remember Tim," Cassie said as we seated ourselves. "Tim Corrigan. From the last time we were here." They gazed affectionately, appreciatively at each other. As Cassie had with our Dr. Burton. They too had fucked. I'd probably swallowed his sperm too.

"Yes, I remember," I said as we seated ourselves. Tim looked the same. A distinguished older man in excellent trim. "You promised a surprise. This is a surprise. How did you manage to find each other again?"

"Oh, no problem. There are only two Corrigans listed within walking distance of here. His number was the first I called. We talked for quite a while, and we've met a few times. He's perfect for us. He agreed to everything."

"And what's 'everything'?"

"Everything. You do know what's going to happen now, don't you?"

"No, I don't!"

"I'm going to bring him home, sweetheart. And take him upstairs into our bed. And then he's going to fuck me. And you'll stay outside the door listening and masturbating, enjoying the most excruciating feelings of your life once again, just like this afternoon. I want you to have them again to confirm that you're altogether sensitive to them, fully aware of the agonized joy they provide you. Addicted, I hope. I want you completely, hopelessly addicted, in love with them, so you'll urge me into the arms of other men just to feel them again! That's my dream."

I was silent.

"And then I'll call you in. Tim here is a very special man. He's bisexual. He's my gift to you, sweetheart. He's already agreed to fuck you after he fucks me, to perform the last act needed to eliminate your manhood utterly. That's if you'll suck him to an erection first. To take into your mouth yet again a warm, throbbing man just like Alex, but this time the very cock that has just fucked your wife, still wet from your wife. Remember that fantasy? Tonight it becomes your reality! I want you to. Will you agree to do just that? To take a real man's cock into your mouth and then into your ass when it's just been in my vagina? In that sacred place you've always thought was reserved for you alone, and couldn't bear to know has been filled by others? I need to hear you this time. I need to hear that you'll do this."

The most eerie feelings had arisen in my body. My face was flushed. I could hardly breathe. "Yes," I said. "I will."

"You want to do this?"

"Yes. Yes, Cassie."

"Then say it."

"Yes, Cassie." The words were torn from the unendurable excitement in my bowels. "I want this."

"Say it again, darling. Say what it is you want."

"I want this man to fuck you and then me. I want to suck on him. Oh, God! I want it! I do want it! Oh!" I was in an agony of humiliation. It was unbearable! Unendurable! Excruciating! But also rapturous, and no longer hidden deep inside me like some dirty secret. "Cassie, I...."

"Hush sweetheart. You'll have him. And as often as you want. Tim has agreed to be your Jerry from now on, to let you suck him and to fuck you whenever you wish. Whenever I'm away and you're lonely, or even if I'm at home and you want to be fucked, Tim will be on call. He lives nearby and he's retired, and almost always available. We'll give Jerry away now that he's done his work. Tim will be your new boyfriend, a man you can appreciate who appreciates women. A man you can turn your heart to trying to please, and be delighted to please, who will always show his appreciation when you succeed. So you can be a woman in every sense of the word. No longer playing at it in your mind, but for real."

I was speechless. I looked at Tim. He smiled warmly at me and took both of my hands in his. I felt terribly uneasy. But I understood how much effort had gone into this, and left my hands there. He squeezed them gently, and I gave him a wan smile.

"And to inaugurate this very special relationship," Cassie added. "So in your mind I'll always be part of it any time Tim is fucking you, this first time a real man's warm cock slides in and out of you and you become a real woman, while your cute round ass is high in the air and squrming against him, your face will be between my legs, buried deep in my pussy. You'll be sucking out the cum Tim just squirted into me earlier, and swallowing it down. Then when you're having your first live orgasm as a woman, your tummy filled with Tim's sperm fresh from my cunt, Tim spurting the first of many future loads of sperm into your bowels, at that very moment your tongue will be giving me the sweetest orgasm I will ever have, the first of many I hope to have from you whenever my vagina is filled with some man's sperm and craves your face. All this because I love you so deeply, passionately, utterly."

I was awed by the amount of thought Cassie had invested in this plan. She was silent now, gazing at me with her eyes moist and her face beaming hopefully, waiting for my response. Whatever she was, whatever she had done, there was not the slightest doubt that she wanted my happiness more than anything else in the world, after her own. That she never wanted to risk my leaving her. Could I ever consider leaving her after this?

"I don't think I feel like dessert after all," I told her, gratitude overwhelming my heart and spilling over into my own eyes. "Can't we all just go back home? Right now?"

We did just that.

 

Cassie was right. No one at the office identified me with Cassie's strayed husband. But one other person found out. I became a regular with the Lunch Bunch, and something of a celebrity as I visited office after office, resetting monitors and cleaning caches. Different girls called me in to teach them new programs and techniques, help them with certain procedures, or under the pretense that I was helping them just chat, giggle and gossip together. Cassie encouraged me to mix with the women support staff this way, to spend time with the secretaries and make their concerns mine. "The best way to learn to be a girl," she said, "is the way we all learned to be girls. From girls."

She was now unconcerned now that one or another would attempt to charm me away from her and into bed with her. I made friends. I listened to sad tales and learned to shriek extravagantly when they told amusing tales. It was a rare morning when I came to work with Cassie, separated from her at the seventeenth floor, and didn't find invitations, appreciative messages, and hopeful calls for help on my computer to fill out my day. I was always helpful.

That made me popular. They asked me one day why I never seemed to have my nails done, and how long it had been since a hair stylist had touched my hair. The upshot was a full Saturday afternoon of pampering in a beauty shoppe, getting a complete makeover. When Cassie saw me she was so delighted she took me straight to bed, and we had two hours of ardent woman on woman love, so absorbed with each other that we barely had time to prepare for our evenings, Cassie with a new law partner she hadn't yet tried out and me with Tim.

I'd frequently be asked if I was free for a blind date, to fill out a foursome with one of the secretaries' boy friends and one of his friends, to "Go dancing, have fun, who knows, maybe you'll like him and get lucky"—that was how they put it. I always regretted I was booked for that weekend. They began not to believe me until I persuaded Tim to go out on a proper date with me and Maria and her current boyfriend, just dinner and dancing and maybe a little smooching afterward. We did, and it was fun! The next day everyone swarmed around Maria to find out what Tim was like, learned that Maria was impressed, and thereafter considered Tim my steady. Which he was. Frequently.

Unattached men and even some of Cassie's married law partners took it upon themselves to lean in on me as they always had on Cassie, grin confidently, tell me how much they appreciated everything I was doing for the firm, and suggest a drink after work. I never accepted, and to forestall other attempts I asked Clarice to let it be known on the partner's floor that Tim was a cover—if they knew of him. That in fact I was a lesbian.

That didn't work out exactly as I'd intended. One Friday afternoon Denise stopped by my cubicle, closed the door, and sat down to watch silently while I finished programming a payroll matrix one of the accountants had requested. I nodded at her, typed, pointed, and clicked rapidly, and then sent it on its way. Then turned to Denise pleasantly enough, to find out what she wanted.

"You're very sweet, Hallie," she said. "I like you. Very much."

I nodded and smiled, pleased to know that. Denise was a clever woman, ruthlessly honest, who could be quite indifferent to traditional manners and virtues when they didn't suit her purposes. Someone to keep on your side. But I was instantly wary.

"Did you do this to yourself," she asked, as if it were idle curiosity. "Did you want it, for your own reasons? Or did Cassie do it to you for her reasons, and you're such a good guy you just went along?"

A pang of fear went through me. "Do what?" I asked as if genuinely puzzled, stalling. "What do you mean?"

Denise didn't choose to reply. She just looked at me as if my questions were beneath me, did me no credit. Then she said merely, "Let's meet after work, shall we? The Oasis has a good TGIF Happy Hour, delicious free hor doeuvres and doubles on all drinks."

"I'd love to," I said. "But...."

"Your room-mate Cassie flew to Bermuda on a business trip this afternoon with that hunk who owns the sporting goods franchise, Jason somebody. Tim's off rock climbing in the Rockies this weekend, something I suppose you don't do or else you'd be with him. The Oasis is a good place for us to begin the evening, then we'll see where it goes. Five-thirty ought to be plenty of time for you to finish here. I know you care about your work, that's one of the things I like about you, so a few minutes later is OK too. See you then."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. She grinned pleasantly, opened the door, and left.

An hour and a half later I joined Denise at a small round table barely large enough to hold our two glasses of white wine. Denise was telling a hopeful man leaning over her to "Fuck off, or else bring your wife, I'm a lesbian," as I sat down. My expression as he left told him that I sympathized, but not enough for it to matter.

"I hear you're a lesbian too," Denise commented, pleasantly enough. "That you like sex with women, and always have. Though not lately."

"I've heard that rumor," I said evasively.

"Hallie," Denise said. "Let me be blunt. I can reach your balls from here, and I have fast hands. You can perform some marvelous ballet moves and astonish everyone here before I stop squeezing those balls and you faint dead away. Or else we can talk like honest friends. I mean it. I like you. I am your friend. Your choice."

A weight fell from my shoulders. I had been pretending so many things and trying to believe them, and now I no longer needed to. Denise wanted to be blunt. I could be too.

"You asked who did it," I said in a level voice. "Cassie did it originally, for her own reasons, though I didn't know it when we began, and I never added it up till it was irreversible. She figured a way to make me want to do it, to go along for my own reasons. She did it for fear I'd leave her if I found out about her men. She probably still thinks it was also for me. In some ways it was. I regret none of it."

"Je ne regrette rien," that's Edith Piaf's line. She sings it defiantly, as if she didn't really believe it herself. I don't believe her, and I don't believe you. What were your reasons?"

"She knew I could be turned on by the fantasy notion that other better men were fucking her. Like lots of men. She cultivated that kink until I accepted it and desired it for the sake of the turn on. Then she got me pretending I'm a woman—during sex at first, later other ways—because then it would make sense to me for her to seek out other men for sex. She'd seem justified even to her pansy husband. Also, I wouldn't feel obliged to do anything about it if I found out it was true. It worked. I got to love the submissiveness and the humiliation both."

"And she used lots of sexual stimulation, traditional and gay, real and imaginary, to condition you, sweeten the pot, so you'd not only accept that you weren't much of a man, she should go elsewhere, you'd love it too?"

"Yes. By the time I found out for fact that other better men were indeed fucking her, there wasn't much manhood left in me to protest with. But I don't mind now. I'm no longer a humiliation junkie. My tits are real, and feel marvelous. My life in my new gender is far more satisfying than my old one—I was a lonely computer nerd stay-at-home with no friends, and now I've got lots. And I have a caring boyfriend who satisfies me sexually, and I do the same for him. Whatever I lost as a man I've gained as a woman."

"Cassie killed off your manhood and gave you a new life as a straight woman, complete with breasts and a boyfriend, so she could keep screwing everyone and his uncle and still keep you? That's it?"

"It looks that way. Yes, that's why. Because she loves me."

"Impressive. So you no longer get off on the fantasy that Cassie is screwing other men. The reality's less exciting, not at all humiliating. It just is. She does it now with your full knowledge and consent. And you're hers for life. Quite an achievement."

"Not my consent. She is as she is. She does what she does. I love her and she loves me, and I can't deny her what she wants. I do wish she'd want no other man but me. But knowing she has other men, well, that was what I once feared and desired, and it emasculated me. Now that I'm altogether emasculated, I can accept it. My femininity turns me on instead. And when I'm turned on, well, that's when I call on Tim. Tim fucks me and I suck him and we talk, and he's a gentleman, and I'm grateful to him because with Tim I don't feel like a total loser. I'm not gay, I get nothing emotional from sex with a man. But my body loves it. It can feel very good, being a woman with a man. Good enough." I paused, then added, "You should try it."

Denise was unflapped. "I see. You mean the sex feels good if you can persuade yourself you're a woman with a man."

The waiter approached, and we each ordered another white wine. She nibbled the edges of a chicken wing, the TGIF snack of the moment. "I assume you're no longer Cassie's husband. You no longer fuck her."

"No. We do oral to maintain my submissiveness and keep my leftover manhood servile, in its place. That's what Tim's for too, apart from the physical pleasure of it. Cassie prefers real men. She says she'd rather not have sex with a woman.

At that Denise guffawed. "Not your kind of woman anyhow, I guess." Then she leaned forward. "Tell me, Hallie. Would you have sex with a woman? She cheats on you with men. Would you cheat on her with a woman?"

"I'm not gay, Denise. I like women. I love doing woman things because that way I'm with women. But I can't have sex man to woman any more, because what woman would have me? And I can't do woman to woman either, except with Cassie, for the same reason."

Denise just sat there with a slight smile on her face. I caught on.

"Denise, I know what you're thinking. But I'm not a real woman in my head. I enjoy the roles, and I take what comfort I can from imagining that's what I am, but down under I'm still a man. I know that. And you're still a lesbian.

"Hallie, I'm a broad. Broad-minded, no restrictions, I call each situation as I see it. And I'm more of a man right now than you were when that's all you were. And you're a lot more of a woman than you think. You're sweet and compliant and passive, inclined to accept whatever life or a dominant woman offers you. Utterly duped, a victim of possessive love, and grateful to have it. So you don't even know yet that there are other kinds of love."

She paused and looked me directly in the eyes, earnestly. "No, keep looking," she said as I turned my eyes away, embarrassed. "Now look here," she said.

And she reached across the teeny table to take my hands and hold them. Just that. I looked down. My heart swelled up. I looked again into her face. Tears came to my eyes. "Denise," I said. "I ...."

"See, honey?" she said softly. "We can be friends. Do things together. I suspect we could find enough to do with each other. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it has." I knew what she meant. A long time since I'd felt relaxed affection, respect, warmth, or friendship that wasn't also calculating, manipulative, or self-protective. Caring, undemanding friendship. I was grateful that my eye make-up was tear-proof.

"You once loved sex with women. I still love sex with women. I can help you become even more of a woman than you are now, and remind you how to love women once again. Do you want to? This is a proposal, not a proposition."

"Yes. Yes, Denise. If you think I can."

"'Denny' to my friends. I know you can, Hallie. I'll prove it to you. I'll call your home and leave a message for Cassie to pick up when she calls in, so she'll know you're all right, you're with me, and then we'll go to my place and see what we can do.

We did. We found what we could do. That was Friday. By Sunday, we'd done it many times.

Denny was careful and thorough in her lovemaking, not at all tentative or exploratory. She showed me some of the refined, delicate, and some of the mind-staggering things women can do with women, pleasure so intense that several times I was near fainting. Instead of being merely pleased with my breasts, she taught me to glory in them. I spent that weekend feeling more luxuriously amorous, more voluptuous, more feminine than ever with Tim. I wanted more of it.

By Sunday morning I found for the first time that I was wishing I had a proper cunt. Neither Cassie, Tim, nor Denny had any use for my cock, and neither did I any longer, and I needed more places for Denny's fingers and tongue to penetrate. I mentioned this to her, and she nodded sympathetically. Then called a gynecologist friend for a referral. A woman gynecologist friend, not Alex—she was adamant that she'd never allow any man's hands near that part of her, much less to penetrate her.

"Mine have penetrated you, Denny," I reminded her.

"You mean yours are a man's hands?" she said as she dialed her phone. "With those slender fingers and that gorgeous manicure? And your sensitive care for my feelings, not just your feelings? Imagine! I've been completely fooled!"

By Sunday evening when I returned home it was clear that we'd be doing this again—I was woman enough for Denny despite all my uncertainties. She'd pronounced me authentic enough, and she wanted me to meet some of her other "special" friends. "I think you'll love them," she said. "And I know they'll love you. You need a life of your own. I'm sure Cassie won't mind."

Early Monday I called the surgeon Denny's friend had recommended and set up a first appointment for later in the week. Then drove in to work. Cassie was due home later in the day, after her week-end-long consultation with Jason. For the first time I felt no twinges of uneasiness that this stud had been invading my wife all weekend, and she'd been wrapping herself all around him. I was happy for her. We loved each other, Cassie in her way and me in mine, but we neither of us possessed each other. Not any more.

I went into Denny's office to tell her that. She was out, but there was a huge bouquet of flowers on her desk, and an e-mail message she'd printed out and left there.

 

"Thank you, Denise. I'd so hoped you could do it. I've wanted to help her complete her journey for the longest time, to share all my lady lovers with her, my lovely hubby. But she's been so devoted to me, so persuaded that it was her manhood I loved, not her sweetness. Can you imagine? The very manhood that would have climbed on its high horse and left me forever if she'd known what kind of woman she really married, a bisexual nympho who once and forever fell in love with a womanly man whose ego wouldn't let him discover what he was. But now that male ego has self-destructed altogether, and he's a she! My sweetheart at last wants to be a woman who loves women! Kept safe by being one of us! I do hope you're free for a few hours this weekend so I can thank you in our own special way. I'm sure my sweetie will find her own ways to thank you too, especially later, after her surgery. Do see that it's scheduled soon! Kisses! -- Cassie."

There was a PS.

"When I picked up your message, I was so delighted that I played it for Jason several times. You should know how our conversation went after that! I told him, 'My darling's finishing her education as a girl even at this moment. Learning things I couldn't ever teach her. I'd hoped that when she found herself thrown in with the other girls that she'd find her own way. And she has.' And Jason was amazed. 'He was still a man only a few months ago?' he asked? 'She thought she was.' I told him. 'But she knows better now. Let's go back to bed.' 'You're insatiable,' Jason said. 'Yes,' I said. 'Isn't it wonderful?' Denise, it really is! But you already know that. Anyhow, see you soon!"

 

As I set this message back down on Denise's desk, I didn't feel the least bit betrayed. Nor humiliated, nor resentful. Nor jealous. Just thankful for Cassie. Thankful that no matter what, her love had found a way.

 

END

 

© 2004 by Vickie Tern. May be copied freely to free archives.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2004 by Vickie Tern. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.