The Boy Nanny

by Kelly Ann Rogers

 

Part 3

 

Chapter 8: My Life as a Girl

Things changed even more after that. First, I had a boyfriend, and he took care of me. Oh, did he ever take care of me. He was sooo sweeet! I couldn't get enough of him. Too bad we both had jobs. Actually, I now had a new one. I moved in with Amanda, who was just about eight months pregnant. I was the personal maid and housekeeper. I cleaned, shopped, and cooked. I cared for Amanda as attentively as I possibly could. I felt I owed her that. In effect, I was her housewife. But I didn't care, she was carrying my baby, and she deserved the best care there was!

And you know what? The more I attentively I looked after her, the more affectionately she treated me. She was the sweet, caring Amanda I used to know. She made me feel so warm and wonderful; I simply luxuriated in her approval. And just being around her made me want to do everything for her. I made her breakfast and cleaned up her room. I brought her tea, and helped her get up when she was tired. I ran her baths, and toweled her dry, and brushed her hair.

I loved to brush her hair; it was so soft and silky, and now, quite long, falling almost to her nipples when straight, to the top curve of her breasts when I had curled the ends. And in return, she brushed mine. It was so exquisite, both of us in silky nightgowns, on her bed, giggling softly over shared secrets and warm caresses. Then, she would lie down and I would massage her feet and rub her belly. It was so big! And every now and then the baby would kick, and we would both giggle again.

And every night, she would suckle on my breasts. She said she loved them, couldn't get enough of them, couldn't keep her lips off of them! She didn't! Mmmmm.

Of course, it wasn't always so pleasant. For one thing, my dick was always locked to the ring in my perineum when I was with Amanda. I guess she didn't fully trust me yet, although it was beyond me how anyone could have been afraid of that flaccid little thing. At least the little jacket they had on was gone.

Plus, being pregnant is hard, and Amanda was frequently uncomfortable, and guess who she took it out on?

"Ashley, you bitch, get in here and help me get up so I can pee!"

Oh shit, not again, I sighed. She had to pee often, and when she was feeling that it was all too much, she would call me, wherever I was, to come help her. She even had me wipe her sweet little pussy clean sometimes so she didn't have to bend over.

"I can't reach over this giant belly," she yelled one night, even though that wasn't at all true. Of course, since I was still consumed with guilt, especially because she was being so nice to me, I felt I deserved any abuse she would care to dish out. At that point I would have licked her clean. Thank God she never asked.

And unfortunately, there was still a good deal of public humiliation built into my life. For the last few weeks, it has been Lamaze training. There we were, among a half dozen other pregnant couples, all preparing to give birth. Of course, I was the only husband dressed like an 18_year_old girl. And as soon as the opportunity arose, Amanda let everyone know who I was and what had happened. This was really the most humiliating scene she had played so far (although each one in turn seemed to be that way).

First, everyone laughed at me. "A guy is going to be your nanny," one new mom blurted out, "you can't be serious?"

"Are you crazy?" shouted another." You're letting your rapist live with you? I'd fucking castrate him and throw him off the fucking Brooklyn Bridge."

"Well," Amanda replied calmly, "we fixed his dick pretty good. Show them dear."

So I pulled down my jeans and panties and they leered at my now rather small and pathetic penis, the ring in its head still locked to the ring in my perineum. By then I was in tears, but I could tell everyone was both shocked and impressed.

"Oh my god," one of the men gasped, "you didn't . . . How did you?"

"And you're next if I ever catch you fucking around!" shouted his wife, who then fell over convulsed with laughter. He just paled and withdrew.

"Of course," Amanda continued, as if nothing had interrupted her, "I have some friends who can make sure he ends up at the bottom of the East River if he misbehaves. But really, I need him to look after our baby. And he has been sooo well behaved." She grabbed me around the shoulders, gave me a big hug, and gave me a big, wet sloppy kiss right on the lips. As I sat there with my pants down, our breasts pressed together, and me reaching over her gigantic belly, I blushed so hard, I thought I was going to pass out. If there had been a window in that room, I would have just jumped right through it. I sulked in the corner till we had to leave. When we got home, I was inconsolable.

"Did you have to do that?" I cried. "Haven't you done enough to humiliate me? Haven't I done enough? What do you want from me? I'm trying to be nice to you . . . I'd rather die than live like this any more." My head was in my hands and I was in tears. I was working myself up emotionally for a big fight. This was the first time I had stood up to her since. . . since. . . well, since I had raped her.

She looked at me mildly, not at all concerned. "OK, Ashley," she said simply, "I'll stop." Just like that.

"Huh?"

"Yes, we've all been waiting for this. I'm a little surprised it took so long. At some point you had to tell us to stop. You'd become too meek and submissive. I couldn't possibly love a total wimp, even if she is my maid, my baby's father, and the nanny."

And much to my surprise and total delight, she never humiliated me again. Instead, she started to build me up and to treat me more like Tommy was treating me. Like I was. . . . valuable.

So, the next week, when the teasing started again in class, Amanda defended me like a mother protecting her child from the play ground bully. "You leave her alone," she shouted, "she's been punished for what he did, and I will not have you picking on her just to amuse yourselves. None of you have given as much to a relationship as she has!"

For a moment, I was so touched! I almost grabbed her and hugged her in abject relief. But as I looked at the haughty smile on her face, I realized there was another way to look at this whole thing. I had been so debased and humiliated, that even the smallest kindness made me feel grateful. I was like a puppy dog, which, having been beaten repeatedly by his mistress still crawled back to her because that was all he knew. But the group did leave me alone, although I still felt totally defeated.

That night when we got home, I was feeling ground down by the humiliation and scorn I had again experienced. I'm sure I had the body language of a woman on her way to the gallows. Amanda looked at me for a moment, smiled to herself and told me to change into a nightie and join her in her room.

"Wear the pale pink chemise with the pretty white lace around the neck," she said. I put it on, allowing myself to feel a little bit of hope again. I quickly brushed out my hair, put a pink ribbon in it to hold it back, and allowed myself to feel a little hope. I put a perfume between my breasts and behind my ears. I padded to her room warily and knocked gently on the door.

"Get in here," she shouted as soon as I had knocked on her door. "I need you to wipe me." So much for romance, I thought, a new wave of hopelessness washing over me. I walked dejectedly to her bathroom and did her bidding. As I was kneeling in front of her, one hand resting on her gigantic belly for balance, and the other just leaving her crotch, having finished wiping her with the toilet paper, the baby gave a gigantic kick.

"Oh!" Amanda squeaked, as I drew my hand back in surprise and looked up into her face with apprehension, fearing that I had done something wrong yet again. For a moment our eyes locked. She saw the defeat and alarm in my face, and exclaimed, "Oh no, Ashley, I don't want you to feel that way about me any more." And she started to cry. My protective instincts kicked in instantly and I helped her up and into her bed. She continued to cry and pleaded with me to come lay next to her.

"I can't be the cruel mistress anymore," she sobbed. I don't care what Sheila and the others say. You've had enough. You have been sooo good to me and I need you to love me now, not be afraid of me. Please be my friend. Like before . . . . like before . . . all . . . this . . . . happened. I miss you so much."

Well, I started to cry too. "I thought you hated me."

"I did, you fucking moron! I did." She hit me across the back with an intentionally feeble swat. You hurt me so much."

Tears streamed down her face. My crying redoubled. "Oh Amanda, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so . . . sorry."

"I know you are," she whispered, "and I forgive you."

"Oooh Amandaaa . . ." I hugged her burying my face in her belly and crying some more. She cried too. After a while, we had both settled down some and she said to me, "Get my purse."

Reflexively, I started to get up.

"Wait," she blurted out." Then more gently... "Please wait? Please?" I settled down again, and after she was sure I wasn't going anywhere, she looked down and let out a big sigh. "Let me try that again." She looked up into my eyes and said, "Would you get my purse please? I need something and it's so hard for me to get up."

I looked at her, surprised, not quite sure what was going on and reached over to grab her bag. She fished out her wallet, got a small key out of a zipper pocket, smiled at it strangely for a moment, and looked into my eyes again.

"Ashley, you know what this is, don't you?"

"Yes mistress," the mistress part had been a reflex. It made her cringe. "It's the key to my penis lock."

"Yes. It is. It's yours now." She held it out to me in the palm of her hand.

I hesitated, still unsure about what was going on.

"As far as I'm concerned, your punishment is over," she stated, staring me in the eye. "Unlock yourself and throw the lock away." She smiled coyly, "If you want to that is. You'll get no more orders from me. I'm very fond of you, I want to be your dearest friend, and I want us to raise our baby together."

I took the key from her outstretched hand but didn't move. For some reason I all of a sudden felt very shy. Then I had an idea. "Would you unlock me please?" I asked, in a voice so small it was almost inaudible. Without hesitating she took the key from me.

"Come over her and lie on your side, so I can reach."

"Oh! That's right; you can't reach very far can you?" Hoping my little joke would be taken the right way, I smiled tentatively, still unsure of myself. She slowly looked up at me from under her eyelashes. She hadn't done that since . . . . since . . . . well, since I had become a girl. I giggled, my spirits soaring. She reached up for a hug. We fell into each other's arms like long separated lovers. In a way we were. After she unlocked me and threw the lock and key away, we hugged, kissed, and cuddled until we fell asleep in each other's arms.

I was on cloud nine the next morning. I floated around the house doing my chores and doting on Amanda. I had dressed in a long, crinkly broomstick skirt, layered with a soft cotton roll neck sweater, both in a kind of pale peachy color. I wanted to look feminine and romantic. I tied a ribbon in my hair that picked up the color of the little flowers printed on the skirt.

"Oh, don't you look lovely," exclaimed Amanda, propped up on her pillows so she could drink the tea I brought her for breakfast.

"Thank you Amanda," I said as demurely as I could, my eyes downcast. I set down the tray on the bed side table, took a step back, curtsied, and gave a little twirl. "Do you really like it?"

"Come here you." She reached up, put her hands around my neck and pulled me down into a sweet languid kiss.

In the late morning, Sheila called. Amanda listened for a moment and frowned, "No Sheila! I won't!" Then turning to me, she said, "Please close the door Ashley, so I can talk to Sheila privately." I did, but started to worry. A little while later, Amanda called to me.

"Yes, ma'am," I curtsied. I was feeling insecure again. Amanda frowned at what I had said, but let it pass.

"Listen, I'm going to have a small get-together with some of the girls tonight. Would you please lay out some appetizers, wine, and soft drinks, and be ready to serve us. I would consider it a real favor if you could help me out. I'm just too tired now to take care of all that stuff.

Of course I would. My heart swelled. I would jump off the fire escape if she asked me that nicely. "Sure," was all I said, though I didn't like the look on her face. "Would you like me to wear my uniform?"

"Oh no!" she flushed. "Didn't you believe what I said last night? We're through with that kind of stuff, you and me. I need you to do me favor and help me set up for tonight. You'd do that for the very pregnant mother of your child wouldn't you?" She rubbed her belly and smiled gently.

"Oh yes Amanda, of course! I'm just so confused right now."

"That's OK," she said," Go to the market and get what you need. And get me some white fish salad from Zabar's. I really want some white fish salad for some reason."

I caught guys giving me the eye the whole time I was out. I'm sure that my walk and body language had changed significantly, even though my new loving arrangement with Amanda was only one day old. I could feel it myself. I had new pride, new hope, and new love in my heart. Even the most homely girls attract attention when they feel as good as I did. And I was far from homely, Dr. Abigail Pierce, plastic and reconstructive surgeon, had seen to that.

I had everything set up by 7:00 even though the girls weren't due until 8:00. I had changed into a more formal outfit with a short black skirt that flared out at the hem so I could twirl it around my thighs by turning quickly, white rayon blouse that buttoned up the front, black pantyhose and tall black heels. It was my teenage executive secretary look. No ribbons for my hair tonight. I parted it on the side and brushed the ends under. That way it would always be in my face and I would have to brush it away, just how Sheila liked it. Sheila liked me to show cleavage too, so I was standing at the hall mirror trying to decide whether to open two buttons on my blouse or three when the door bell rang. I was so intent on studying the tops of my delicious, creamy white breasts that I jumped when I heard the bell. Who could be here now? None of these women were ever early.

I put my eye to the peep hole and my heart leapt. It was Tommy! I quickly checked to be sure I had opened that third button. It was strange, why was I embarrassed to show my breasts to the women, but eager to have Tommy see them?

"Tommy," I yelled, as I threw the door open and bounced into his arms.

"Whoa, hold on there little one. Don't knock me over. The hallway is a little too public to fuck in." I blushed and backed into the apartment.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, staring up into his face, as wide-eyed as I could make myself.

"I'm taking you out."

"You can't, I'm the serving girl tonight." Now, I was pouting, with my head down. "Change of plans, Ashley," Amanda broke in from behind me. "You're released. Go with your hunky boyfriend here." And she leered at him.

"But will you be OK, are you strong enough . . . ."

"That's very sweet Ashley, honey, but there will be six women here tonight. I'm pretty sure they'll be able to take care of me. Go! Get out!"

So I grabbed a light sweater and my purse, and left with Tommy. "Kiss me," I said, as soon as we got in the elevator. "I'm in a wonderful mood and I want to share it." I circled my arms low around his waist, thrust out my pelvis and pulled him to me. Even with my heels on, he was a several inches taller than me, so I tilted my head up and let him kiss me.

By the time we were seated in the restaurant, I had started to worry. "What's going on? You showing up to take me out unexpectedly is too much of a coincidence. Those women are up to something."

"You're right," he agreed, "but I don't know what. Amanda just called me a couple of hours ago and told me to get over there and take you out." I'm to bring you back before 12:00.

"Oh, this isn't good. Just last night she took the lock off . . . I ducked my head so the people nearby couldn't hear . . . off my penis." I blushed and looked down.

Tommy reached under the table for my crotch." Can I see?" he said in mock disbelief.

"Oh, . . . you!" I yelped quietly. "You keep your nasty hands to yourself." I stuck my shoe up the back of his pant leg and caressed the back his calf. I wanted to be sure he knew I was joking.

Even though we tried to be light hearted, I was too nervous to really enjoy dinner. So I was relieved when we left the restaurant before dessert.

"There are a couple of things I have to show you before we go home," he said as he hailed a cab. I didn't hear the directions, but it was somewhere down in the West Village. After a slow ride through the evening traffic, we pulled up in front of one of the trendy new restaurants catering mostly to the gay community. All kinds of people would show up here at dinner time, but as the night wore on, the flavor of the crowd became more and more overtly, over the top, flamboyantly homosexual.

"Let's grab dessert." Tommy grabbed my hand and led me inside. He obviously knew the owner who greeted him with a big hug.

"Is this Ashley?" He turned to me with a gigantic smile. I half expected a leer, but this was a warm, genuinely open smile. "I've heard so much about you. I don't know what you did to him, but you've totally captured my Tommy, you know. You had better be good to him, or you'll have to answer to me." He laughed as he gave me a gentle hug and an air kiss on each cheek and led us to a secluded table away from the bar.

"Why are we here? Who was that?" I spluttered out as soon as he was gone.

"That," he hesitated for dramatic effect, "is one of my favorite boyfriends." I sat there goggle-eyed. I knew Tommy was gay, but this was the first clear evidence of that. "We were lovers years ago and dear friends ever since. If you ever need anything, anything at all, and you can't find me, call Robert. He would jump off a bridge for you if he had to."

As I sat there trying to figure out what was going on, a tall woman came to the table to fill our water glasses. She wasn't particularly attractive, rather manly in fact, although she moved with a sexy sway in her miniskirt and heels. She didn't have much in the way of tits, but that hardly mattered because she was wearing an off the shoulder peasant blouse that would have hidden anything but the biggest breasts anyway. Her hair was a bright orangey red, cut to a cheek length bob. Large hoop earrings dangled against her cheeks. Her lips were bright red. She looked very unhappy as she bent at the knees to fill our glasses. It took a moment, and I almost jumped out of my seat when I figured it out. It was Brent!

"What happened to you?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"Go to hell, you bitch," she whispered back, and then glanced around to see if anyone except Tommy or I could hear her. Then she paled. Tears came to her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she began, choking back a sob, "That was the worst thing I ever did. I'm so ashamed of myself." She put her hand gently on my wrist. Her bright red nails sparkled in the light, but her eyes were sad. Then she fled from the table before I could say anything.

"Your lady friends make powerful enemies," Tommy said as I watched Brent walk away, her ass no longer swaying and her shoulders hunched down. "Nobody messes with that group. But I guess you know that."

I turned back to Tommy slowly and when I was looking at his face he pointed over my other shoulder and said, "Look at the bar." There, balancing a tray of glasses was a big breasted, bleached blonde woman who looked a lot like Jared. He wore the same clothes as Brent, but no peasant blouse could hide his tits. They were gigantic. I gasped out loud and then gaped as a man walked by and fondled Jared's ass and thighs from behind. Jared twisted his head to face him, leered at him, and licked his lips.

"What happened?" I asked without taking my eyes off him.

"Let's just say it was a case of an eye for an eye." Tommy grinned. "A few days after you were raped, Brent was lucky enough to get a job as a transvestite waitress at one of the bars on 10th Avenue. He managed to work his way up to busboy here, and if he's good, he may become a waitress. He's lucky because he found a lover, who looks after him. But he'll need lots of money to pay for his hormones, electrolysis and plastic surgery. His boyfriend likes his dick so far, so he's been able to keep it."

"Jared decided to become a woman. He was going to lose his dick in any case, so he opted for surgery instead of castration. He didn't plan on the tits, or the puffy lips and high cheeks, but that's who he is now. He only works here occasionally. He's basically a stripper who does a lot of hooking on the side. He's owned by a pimp, who keeps him with some other girls who do the same kind of work. It was either this or jail for both of them. Brent will probably be OK, he's basically nice and people like him. Jared's a shit and is headed for trouble."

"What about Roberto, I asked with some trepidation," is he working here too?"

No, but he's not too far away. He's hiding out over on 10th Avenue. Seems he had trouble with his visa. As long has he had friends to protect him, he was OK, but the day Brenda found out what he did to you, the INS was on his case. You should see him. He's a barmaid at the Leather Palace. The guy keeps him shackled and gagged most of the time. He really turned out much cuter than either Brent or Jared. On Tuesday nights his master makes him give blow jobs for $5.00 a pop to any customer who will have him. As cute as he his he gets lots of action.

When Tommy eventually brought me up the elevator to Amanda's apartment, I was truly shaken. I felt like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. I had seen the ghosts of who I might have been. I had come perilously close to being utterly destroyed, and I'd had no idea. So as I reached the door to Amanda's apartment, I felt like I was on my way to meet my executioner. Don't worry, Tommy said, "I'll want to suck on your tits no matter what happens in there." And he bent down suddenly and took the biggest, wettest lick on the exposed portion of my left breast. "Ohhh," I shuddered, and tried to stuff my tit into his mouth, now definitely glad I had opened three buttons.

"That's all for now. Your mistresses have business to discuss with you. Be a good girl."

He turned and left and I knocked, before unlocking the door to let myself in. Can't be too careful, I thought.

"Oh there you are Ashley, dear, right on time." It was Abigail, my plastic surgeon, pouring herself a glass of wine. "Would you like one? Oh, wait; you're too young aren't you. She giggled, a bit cruelly I thought. "Well come on, let's get it over with."

Get it over with? I didn't like the sound of that at all. Walking into the living room and seeing the "girls" arranged in a loose circle with one empty chair left open didn't make me feel any better. It was ornately carved, had a straight back, and thin cushion. I hated antiques.

"Come on dear, sit down," Amanda urged, "We need to talk with you." She was smiling ingratiatingly, but the others were stone-faced. This was not good. My legs got wobbly as I made my way to the chair. I started to say hello to each of them and curtsey as I did, but Abigail cut me off.

"Oh just sit down you little boob, cut the submissive bull shit." I was stunned, but didn't know what to think. If I had failed to curtsey in the past, they would have been all over me like piranhas on raw meat. I carefully perched myself on the front edge of the chair, pulled my legs together, and curled them back under the chair, crossed at the ankle. I didn't look up at first, but nothing happened so I risked a glance at Amanda, flipping the hair out of my eyes as I did so.

"That's so fetching, Ashley dear, I just love the way you do that. I do so hope you'll keep your hair long once you have a choice."

Have a choice? What did that mean? No one ever said anything about me having a choice before.

"Ashley, pay attention now, we have a lot to tell you," Sheila began. "As you know, we were very angry with you for what you did to Amanda and we set out to punish you. Although some of us still think you have more coming, Amanda has forgiven you and insists that we do also."

I looked at Amanda and she was smiling at me like an angel. She patted the couch next to her and silently urged me to come and sit there. Beth got up to make room for me, so I rose and went over to Amanda, nearly in tears. She took my hand, guided me to the cushion next to her and put her arm around my shoulder.

"This is good," she whispered, "pay attention." I smiled a hopeful smile at her and looked back toward Sheila.

"Since we destroyed the contemptible person you used to be," Sheila continued, like she was arguing before a judge, "we have had to rebuild an identity for you. The truth is, you have been so sweet and remorseful and . . . obedient, all of us are having a hard time staying angry at you. You can't go back to being a man, but we would like to welcome you to womanhood and offer you our friendship." She actually hesitated and a tear came to her eye. "Oh, you do this Amanda," she said, "I can't."

"OK," Amanda said taking over, her eyes now glistening as well. She reached for a packet on the table next to her. "From now on, you are officially Ashley Lynne Backford."

"Backford?" I blurted out, startled. I knew that name; it's Sheila's family name. I looked at her without comprehension. Amanda handed me a birth certificate and driver's license. Ashley's picture, my picture, was on the license. It said I was an 18-year-old girl.

"You are Sheila's 18-year-old niece. Your parents died years ago and she adopted you."

I gasped, "She what?"

"Yes sweetie," Sheila said, her eyes now brimming with tears, "I'm your official guardian. Come over here and give Aunt Sheila a big hug. She's missed you so much." I jumped up, ran to her, fell on my knees at her feet and hugged her legs, tears now streaming down my face.

"I thought you hated me," I cried.

"I did," she said quietly, "and I wanted to hate you forever. But you were too endearing. No one could hate someone as precious as you've become. And we did have some history, after all. We were all startled to hear what you did to Amanda. It was so out of character. But not too long after we decided to feminize you, you started acting like your old adorable self. But as a girl, you were even more darling than you had been. You've been just wonderful since then. Amanda has been your biggest fan. If she's not angry with you, how can we be?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me anymore. I can't bear it. If it hadn't been for Tommy, I don't know what I would have done. He has been my only friend for almost nine months." And then I looked back to Amanda. "Until last night that is, you were so sweet to me." I started to cry again.

"Yes, I know dear," replied Amanda. "I couldn't be angry anymore, and I couldn't not be nice to you. You were so nice to me, and I had to show you how I felt. I need you to be with me when Emma is born. Not just as her caretaker, but as my companion as well. I need you to love me and I think I need to love you."

Epilogue

So there you have it. My punishment turned out to be my salvation. I had my old girlfriends back, albeit in a different way. Now I'm more like their niece, as they teach their "little princess" how to be a woman. My "Aunt Sheila" really likes to shop for me and I have more clothes than I could ever imagine what to do with.

I live with Amanda, who is as dear to me as baby Emma. Of course, Amanda went back to work and I'm the housewife, but I'm curiously content in that role. And even if I wasn't content, I'm so tired, it wouldn't matter. Between the baby (Oh, did I tell you, Sheila played around with my hormones and I began lactating even before Emma was born. That's why Amanda spent so much time sucking on my tits _ to get me ready), Amanda, and that gigantic eight room apartment, I barely have any time. But it's what happens during that spare time that really makes life sweet.

Of course, there's Tommy. He still dotes on me, and I on him. No question, we're lovers. It seems socially acceptable to the neighbors in this very expensive condo that the nanny and trainer go out with each other. I just can't get enough of his delicious dick and he's more than eager to stuff it into my mouth or asshole. There's nothing I love more than having him ride me to orgasm. With that prick buried in my asshole, I'm as happy as anyone who has ever had a prick inside of her (or him, whatever!) can be. I've even started to have my own orgasms from being fucked. If I didn't like being screwed so much, he'd probably get lots more blow jobs. Oh well, we all have our burdens to bear.

My next big decision is whether or not to get rid of my little prick and get a nice warm pussy instead. In truth, I see no reason not to. The girls keep teasing me about it. "If you like him in your ass or your mouth honey, you really should get a pussy. It's so much more delicious to have a nice hard prick buried in there." So I probably will. Certainly, my pitiful, shriveled prick does nothing for me. When I'm making love to Tommy, it's irrelevant. When I'm making love to Amanda, it's worthless.

Oooh yes, I didn't tell you yet did I? I get to make love to Amanda again. Now, however, it's all finger tips (with long polished nails) and soft, ruby red lips, and sweet moist tongues . . . . and breasts. Oh God yes, breasts. I just die of pleasure when she plays with my breasts. Sometimes, she suckles me and I almost have an orgasm right then. Of course, I spend a good deal of time with my head buried in her pussy, licking and kissing her to as many orgasms as she wants. She told me that was one of the things she liked about me before, and she had no intention of giving it up.

So, for all intents and purposes I am Amanda's wife. I devote my time to caring for her, our baby, and her apartment. But she is very gentle and considerate with me, even though she is always in charge. She told me a few days ago that once she gets her figure back we are going to get married. But she's wearing the tux and I get the wedding dress. The girls can't wait to take me out to get me outfitted. They're so excited, you'd think they were the ones getting married.

But I know what they want, besides the shopping that is. They just want to get me alone for a while to have their way with me. I can just see myself now, in the dressing room at the bridal shop, kneeling in front of Abigail, or Samantha, with my head between their legs and eating them out for all I'm worth. You see, I've become a highly valued sex partner to these women again, just as I was before. And now that I'm a girl too, they are sooo much warmer and more playful with me. Of course they have to go elsewhere if they really want to get laid, but hey, no one's perfect.

So, I've got the affections of more people than I ever could have imagined. And although I've been changed into a girl, which is really all the difference in the world, it didn't change me all that much. I'm still me. My friends like me now for the same reasons they liked me before. I'm still easy to get along with (OK, I'm submissive), attentive, and clever. I now understand how important it is for my own well being to please other people, and now all my friends make it easy because they're all gracious about letting me do it.

My only worry is that Sheila is starting to get a little jealous of Amanda. She wants a baby too. And, it turns out that they saved a sample of my sperm, and Emma is so cute that Sheila's thinking of using my sperm to help create her own baby. Since I would be the other biological parent, and since I'm doing such a good job with Emma, Sheila is talking about . . . .

Oh well, until then, I have to finish feeding Emma, and maybe get some sleep before Amanda wakes up and I have to run her bath and help her get up and out to work. If I'm lucky, Emma will take a nice long nap this afternoon. Then maybe I'll get some rest. Unless Tommy decides to come for a visit, in which case I most certainly won't. But I guess all you stay-at-home moms know just how hard it is to juggle so many things, don't you.

The End

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Kelly Ann Rogers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.