Crossing Your X's And Dotting Your Y's

by Young Ovidius

Part Four

  

Scott and Debbie Raghetti learned that facing the outside world with their new genitalia was not as smooth a situation as they had hoped. Whether a result of foibles, mishaps, or their own self-consciousness, awkward situations seemed to be their lot in life – at least for awhile. Barely two days had passed since the magical exchange that left themselves endowed with the wrong parts down below. But the demands of everyday life pressed on.

 

DEBBIE:

I hardly knew what to say or do when Scott came home from work early and started crying on my shoulder. I sat him down on the couch and listened to his story about the sock falling out at the wrong time and about his co-worker Angela's suspicions. It was unsettling. How much could this woman know? How much did she know? I tried putting myself in her shoes, not being able to conceive of a magical genital switch. That was where I was two days before, after all. The burden of proof in a situation like that is really high. Yet just her suspicions could be potentially dangerous. I tried to remind Scott that he needed to be very careful at work from now on. Once I convinced him that he should go back to work (which wasn't altogether easy), I got emphatic agreement from him.

After making lunch for us and making sure that Scott lay down for a nap, I headed out to do some errands I'd planned. Mondays have been my days for grocery shopping for quite some time. It's the only day I have off from working at the bank as a new accounts agent. Anyway, I double-checked that the shopping list and my keys were in my purse, then dashed out the front door. It was only then that I realized I hadn't done anything to hide the unwanted visitor in my panties. For some reason I shrugged it off as no big deal, taking a little time in the car to try to tuck it away. But ouch that hurt!

On the drive to the grocery store I kept thinking about Scott, how concerned I was for him and his new plight. "It must be awful for him," I actually thought aloud. "If I'd gotten used to having one of these all my life, it would probably be really humiliating...." The picture of him coming home from work early all broken up and sobbing like he had gave me strong feelings of attraction that I could not begin to comprehend. It was my attraction to his helplessness, which seemed like a natural masculine stereotype. I could not find anywhere in my memory where I'd had such a deep and strong an attraction for a man's frailty. Shivers and goose bumps, let me tell you!

My only strategy for reacting to these unsettling thoughts and feelings was to divert my attention back to the task at hand, to pour more energy into the grocery shopping experience than I was accustomed to doing. Inside the store I dedicated myself to getting the absolutely most perfect melons, to calculating the prices of different brands of cereal, and to eyeing any sale or coupon that might be available. I was doing great at staying fixated on the shopping experience as I pushed the cart to the checkout area. Unfortunately, all my best efforts to stay cool and collected fell apart as I saw only two counters open, with two excruciatingly long lines my only choices for getting out of the store legally with all the items I'd so painstakingly picked out. I think I may have even cursed aloud inadvertently, attracting the angry attention of a couple people, including the mother of a young child.

To hide my embarrassment at the tiny outburst, I reached for a magazine on the rack and began thumbing through the pages. Somehow I just had to pick an issue of People that featured a story on my favorite Hollywood celebrity Matt Damon. For some reason I could never get past that wavy blond hair and those dimpled cheeks that went along with his rugged body and sensitive manner. Scott almost got jealous when we went to see The Bourne Identity. Well, anyhow, I didn't even notice how absorbed I got into both the pictures and the snippets of the story I decided to read. Thoughts of my husband and Damon blended together, and my sense of attraction was overwhelming me. Before I knew it I was thinking back to Saturday evening and our reverse sexual encounter. I was hungry for Scott's pussy... oh, was I ever!

Without the years of experience most men are equipped with, I reacted quite slowly to the developing erection in my pink jogging pants. I'd picked this pair for their very bagginess, which had worked successfully up to that point. But then it backfired terribly, an unmistakable tent forming a few inches below the waistband. All of a sudden, I realized what was happening and threw the magazine down in front of my midsection to block the erection from view. I emitted a tiny shriek and started to hyperventilate. Anxious thoughts flew through my mind in rapid succession. Did anybody see it?

It didn't take long to get a good impression of the answer. The older man standing behind me in line had a look of abject confusion on his face, as if he didn't know to trust his senses. But even worse was the reaction I got from that same young mother who had sneered at me a minute before. She was staring at me with her jaw dropped low. Only as we made eye contact did she turn away and make sure that her four-year-old daughter was looking another way.

I couldn't get out of the store fast enough, nervously tapping my toe as I waited my turn for the cashier's services. Fortunately I could feel the blood flow drain from my penis, causing it to fall back into place. I slid the People issue back onto the rack and tried to calm my breathing while I got checked out. It was obviously the farthest thing from her mind, but terribly present in the forefront of mine. I was so discombobulated I nearly forgot to give her the coupons I held tightly in my clammy fist. And then to top things off, I absentmindedly struggled to find the credit card that was waiting in the same place in my wallet that it always did.

As I pushed the cart toward the exit I stopped to collect myself and grab a stick of gum. Just the action of chewing helped to relax a bit of my stress. I hardly even noticed as the older man who had been waiting behind me in line passed me at the exit. He muttered something as he went by.

"Huh?" I thoughtlessly shot back.

He just shook his head in disbelief as he stared me in the eye. "Are you some kind of pretty boy or something?"

"Excuse me?" I was indignant.

"Look, lady... or whatever you are, I saw, well.... It's none of my business, but let me tell you, you're gonna' be scarin' some people like that."

I was absolutely red-faced. My heart was racing a mile a minute. The man had already begun sauntering off to his car with his lone bag of groceries on his arm, but my fingers could only clench the handle of the cart so hard that my knuckles turned white. "It's not my fault," I whispered to myself under my breath. Nevertheless, I felt awful. I sat in the car and seethed with greater and greater resentment at what had transpired. I started harboring thoughts of taking a kitchen knife and just lopping it off – kind of a self-mutilating Lorena Bobbitt. Then I imagined the pain... and the blood... and, and the inability to make love to Scott in his new form. So gradually I regained my calm. But I wanted my husband more than ever.

 

SCOTT:

I woke up from my nap just a few minutes before Debbie got home from her shopping. I followed nature's call and sat down to piss, disturbed at myself for what second nature it had already become to plop my ass down on the toilet seat just to urinate. I nearly forgot to wipe but caught myself. What I couldn't ignore, though, was the darkly-stained maxi pad parked in my shorts. "Ooh, time to change that again," I said aloud. I started toward the cabinet to get out the box before I remembered that I had an extra one in the side pocket of my cargo pants. With slow and careful practice I wadded up the used one and rolled it into some toilet tissue, tossing it into the waste basket. That used to be Debbie, but now it's me. I hardly noticed myself replacing the maxi (that was almost second nature, too) but was startled at the feeling of comfort and relief having a fresh one in there gave me.

I was downstairs making boiling water for a cup of tea when Debbie got home. We embraced, and she was glad to hear that I was feeling better already. But I almost had to pry out of her the incident at the store. I had a hard time imagining the feeling of pain and embarrassment at having a penis, since I'd been missing mine more with each passing hour. Even so, I consoled her and we went on. We'd both had our run-ins, but with each other's support it just affirmed our desire to persevere.

And boy, it felt great when the man in the brown shirt and shorts drove up and dropped off the packages at our front door. I could tell by the way Debbie told him, "Thank you," that she might have reached out and kissed him on the cheek if not for a little restraint. We were feeling giddy and silly as we closed the door behind him. The way we dug into those boxes with only a pair of scissors and our fingers, you'd have thought it was Christmas Day and we were little kids finally getting a chance to play with the toys we'd wanted for months. For my part, I was slowed down with awe and fascination as I ripped through the plastic and got my first look and touch of the latex strap-on. Attached to it was a gel-like sac that was supposed to mimic the testicles.

"Come on, let's go upstairs and try them on!" Debbie insisted first. I was in no place to disagree with her suggestion, and so we did.

Before I could put it on, though, I felt compelled to ask her advice on how to manage wearing the device while finishing up my period. She helped me to choose to detach the gel-like sac and just wear the strap-on while having my "time of the month," so that the sac wouldn't end up just collecting blood and possibly causing some sanitary problems. Besides, the pad in my shorts would also help offset the absence of the appearance of balls. It already had been; it was mainly the actual penis that needed making up for.

 

DEBBIE:

As excited as I was to try our new gizmos on, I let Scott put his on first while I waited. I felt like he was missing his in a much more real and profound way, and so guilt led me toward that decision. But guilt quickly metamorphosed into confusion as I looked at him naked from the waist down, that latex tube dangling from his midsection and him stroking it like it was his old appendage. "It's not the real thing, but it almost makes me feel like a man again," he said half-heartedly.

I reached out to give him a hug and kiss and to stroke it lovingly as if it were real, as if to reaffirm his missing manhood. But somehow even that felt wrong, because down inside my new penis was aching with desire to penetrate Scott and ride him like I'd been ridden so many times before. With every gentle stroke I gave his new latex friend I felt the effect was really bringing my all-too-real member to life. Only his insistence that it was time to try on my device kept me from taking him to the bed right then and there.

I was keenly embarrassed as I stripped off my jogging pants and panties, only to have that thing spring out at full attention in my nakedness. For some reason I blurted out, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he replied.

"Well, that's not exactly what I meant. I was, uh, I was thinking about you, and it just...."

Scott broke out into a full-belly laugh – well, nearly. Nothing that he did since he'd been stuck with my vagina came across with the same strength or intensity. There was a newfound hesitation and reticence to every action, every word, every movement or reaction. He must have wondered if I noticed that deficiency, and I certainly did. But at precisely that point where he started to laugh I didn't care. "I know what it's like, dear," he said. "Believe me, I do. Do you understand me now when all the times I said that thing has a mind of its own?"

I nodded meekly, then started to attach my gaffe. Scott helped me tuck my penis into the latex sheath, and we both watched in amazement as the device gently but firmly pulled it back between my legs and helped to restore most of my feminine appearance up front. "Thank God for this," I declared after sliding my panties back on and noticing the difference. "Thank God! I might even be able to wear my jeans again!" And Scott indulged me as I tried on almost every skirt and pair of pants I owned. For awhile I could at least deceive myself into feeling like a real woman all over again.

 

SCOTT:

That night we got it on like never before, even unlike our encounter on Saturday. We resumed our original gender roles as she dressed in a silky white number, made all the more convincing by the gaffe that kept the unwelcome part hidden away. We let the foreplay stretch out (at my insistence), stripping each other of every thread and ultimately every piece of latex. The effect was that we seemed to fit our normal male and female positions until the moment of truth, when stripping off each other's devices we found ourselves in our new roles. All I can say was that it was pure ecstasy from beginning to end, everything leading up to having her inside of me. But the act itself topped all. I don't think there's anyone on earth other than Debbie that I could even begin to attempt to explain this to. No one has truly tasted it from both sides. Maybe there are some post-op transsexuals out there who might have a hint of it. I don't know.

I was in a glow the rest of the night. I could hardly remember ever feeling so good. I'd taken more aspirin, and the effects of the period were beginning to dwindle away. It was in these moments, cozied up in my bathrobe, that I began to wonder why everybody didn't want to be a woman. "Deb, I can't figure this whole penis envy thing any more. I guess it's nice for some things, but you can't feel what I felt with one. How do you live with that thing sticking between your legs?" The words escaped from my mouth hardly without notice.

"Did I hear you right?" she said, obviously stunned.

"I guess so," I stammered back. Reaching down, I picked up my new latex strap-on device from the floor. "And I guess this wasn't all it was cracked up to be either. I mean, at first it did give me a bit of that old manly feeling again, you know? But if it's all right with you, I think I'm just going to wear it in public. I need to be reminded of what I am and what I have now. I can't lie to myself, after all."

"Are you all right, honey?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Debbie giggled. "Yep! You've only got a day of your period left. That's why."

"Sure, I admit that's a pain and all, but from where I sit, it seems like the price to pay for the other benefits of having this thing...."

My wife smiled at me. "I'm really proud of you. You've come a long way just today. I wish I could be as glowing about all this as you are...."

"Why's that? What do you mean?"

"Doesn't it make you all feel confused inside? I mean, I still have plenty of feminine thoughts and feelings, but not nearly as many as before. Mix that together with these lustful thoughts I have to get inside you...."

"We're married. I hardly think it's a bad thing...."

"I know, I know. It's not that! But it's having those thoughts for you and your – well, let's just say it – your womanhood while all the time desperately struggling to keep up my own womanly appearances. I go back and forth trying to figure out if I'm a man or woman, straight or lesbian or what! I don't know!" She threw her shoulders up in the air.

"We've just got to make the best of it," I said. "Honestly, we do. Look, I've already started getting myself in the habit of putting the toilet seat down."

"And I've figured out more or less how to handle this thing standing up," she exclaimed through light tears. "You don't understand the fear I have, though, using the ladies room. The thought that somehow someone might catch me, that I might get arrested as some sort of pervert, that they throw me in jail, or throw us both in the loony bin, or whatever...."

"Well, you can't very well use the men's room!"
"I know that, but don't you see what I have to deal with?"

"Is anybody going to notice it when you're inside the stall by yourself?"

"No, probably not, but you just never know. I can't explain the feeling, but it's like carrying a bottle of nitroglycerin, or a stick of dynamite or something. I mean, technically, if it were just me and a-another woman in there, well, I could violate and impregnate her. You know, if I wanted to. Not that I do...."

I could tell she was uncomfortable just unbottling these difficult feelings. But it tripped an important question in my mind. "Are you attracted to men, like, or are you attracted to women?"

"What about you?"

I wanted to say, I asked you first, but that sounded all too juvenile. "This sounds sick and weird, but I've noticed a couple times that I crave cock." I covered my mouth for a second before releasing the grip. "I can't believe I just said that. After you've rocked my world a couple times like you have, though, there's nothing like that feeling. But it's not like I go around ogling men, because it's still the female form that attracts me. I get excited, and I noticed a bit wet, from seeing a nice pair of tits – like yours, of course. At the same time, however, I need to be filled up down there."

"It sounds to me like we're made for each other. I mean, who else could you totally be attracted to and fulfilled by except me?"

"It's the same for you, then?" I asked her.

"Yeah, more or less. Though I do have to admit that today I briefly had the thought of screwing a man up the ass. Look, I'm being honest here. It was just for a second. I'm not really sure that's what I want to do, but would you be willing to try that... I mean, if it ever becomes a stronger thing for me?"

There was definitely a lot of sorting out for us to do. I couldn't give her a good answer at that point. I was just hoping for a day where conflicting emotions of gender identity didn't consume my mind, and the same for Debbie as well. Inner turmoil and awkward encounters would likely be ours to deal with for awhile. At least I'd nearly made it through my first period, so I was trying to look up at circumstances. The last thing I said to her before we drifted off to sleep that night encompassed my sentiments well. "At least things can't get worse. I mean they can't, can they?"

  

  

  

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