Empathy

by Vickie Tern

 

Darla arrived home later than usual. I was still waiting up, my hair still salon perfect and my permanent makeup still intact, as she'd asked. No way it couldn't be. I'd experimented and found that under the colors Marcy had painted on those other colors wouldn't rub off. Moreover, my face was as smooth as any woman's, under a translucent layer of foundation that masked a few minor blemishes. My eyes were huge, shadowed and darkened, and my lips the color of my nails. I couldn't tell that I wasn't a woman. I tried looking severe, manly, but all the mirror reflected back was a woman with protruding breasts making solemn faces.

I'd decided that if the man was a wimp she couldn't respect, the woman in me could confront her as her equal. She told me not to change a thing? Well, I'd change whatever I wanted! I felt defiant. Experimentally I replaced some of the make-up I'd rubbed off, and I saw what Marcy meant—my permanent face had femininity and charm, but with the little extras it became downright seductive. I felt some of the power a beautiful woman feels, looking at herself and knowing she's desireable. And decided that since I had the upper hand over Darla now, I'd go all out. Use that power. I took off my jeans and my Gloria Vanderbilt jacket and that bulging turtleneck shirt and slipped into Darla's best fitted dress, a Donna Karan cool blue shantung, with thigh-hi stockings and flats—I wished I already had heels, so I could really knock her out with my look. A heavy gold necklace to match my new ear studs, and I was ready for her! I felt but suppressed a subversive hope that Darla would find this new me especially attractive.

When she arrived home I was sitting in her easy chair waiting, the one she'd reserved to sit in with me at her feet. The head of the household's. She came over to me wordlessly, stood over me, and inspected me closely for some time. "Yes," she said finally. Then, "You're here. I'm glad."

"Yes," I replied. I was less annoyed with her than I'd expected. She was so beautiful!

"It's been a long journey, darling, but now we've both come home. Please come to bed."

"I'm not that easy," I said, still a shade resentful. But much of what she'd said when she left made sense. I'd been thinking about it. And I couldn't ignore what she'd just said, 'we've both come home.'

"Our bed?" she added.

That did it. I broke. I stood and accompanied her to her bedroom, and walked in as if it were mine too. As it had been, once. And now again? She was already stripping off her clothes. "Take those things off," she hissed at me. I did, almost at once.

We met kneeling naked in the middle of the bed, our arms wrapped around each other, our breasts squeezed together, my cock rampant. "Push it in, push it into me!" she said. "Oh, God, never mind licking anything, push it in, I've been wet ever since I drove away and left you standing there looking so gorgeous! I've been desperate you might not be here when I came back."

I pushed it into her. For the first time in many weeks, how many weeks, my cock was enclosed snug inside her warm, wet body. Her hands played over my nipples and my whole torso turned ecstatic, rapturous, and then her warm, wet mouth enclosed one of my projecting teats and began to suck on it, and it was as if she were sucking on my cock from deep inside me, pulling it into my groin. I began to move on her body, my hips writhing so my penis could slide in and out of her. She began to move too, faster, and soon she was as frenzied as in the old days, twisting and clutching at me, her throat making guttural noises as I bucked and bounced on her. But this time her mouth was filled with me and her cries were muffled by my breast flesh and I shrieked my joy as intense delight radiated out from my breasts and my groin and consumed me, as she went rigid and I pumped my cum deep into her snatch. All of it. All of me.

As soon as I stopped spasming and with a deep sigh her tense body relaxed, she took both of my breasts in both her hands and began to mold them, to squeeze them gently. "Was that good?" she asked.

"Heavenly!" I gasped as her thumbs grazed my erect nipples.

"Oh, April," she said. "I've waited so long for you!"

"I'm here," I replied. Of course. My breasts were April's. And my cock was Darla's, still deep inside her and somehow still hard, stiffening further in fact. None of me was Nick. It had been so very long!

"Take my ass," she said suddenly.

"What?" I asked.

"Put that thing into my ass, lay claim to it, drive that stake into it and claim it, whatever else my ass is all yours now and any other time you want it and whenever you want it no one else's."

She threw her legs over my shoulders and after a moment to adjust my position I thrust my fully resurrected prick into her puckered rear. To my surprise it slid in easily, as if the entryway were already lubricated, and I began to piston in and out effortlessly. Again she began to wriggle, then spasm, clutching at my shoulders, my hips, pulling apart the cheeks of my ass, burying her mouth in my breasts while that magical yearning rose up again to sweeten my groin.

"Yes!" she shouted. "And your ass is mine!"

"Yes!

"Now mine! To do whatever I wish!"

"Yes!" I cried. "Yes, yours, Darla! Yours! All of it! To do whatever!" At that moment my whole body was hers.

She was bent double. Her knees were tight against her shoulders and her legs high up and I lay on the backs of her thighs, pumping and plunging in and out of her rear end, my sweet delight while skidding and sliding rising in me more slowly now, but rising. Her calves draped themselves casually on both sides of my neck and her ankles crossed between my shoulder blades. Then her legs stiffened and I was locked between them, my head held rigid between her knees, her face just below mine, her eyes squeezed tight shut and her mouth in a passionate grimace. As I kept cramming in and out of her ass, she too was reaching for paradise.

"Pump, sweet April! Don't stop, April!" she shouted. Then inexplicably, "Now, Ashley, now! Her ass is mine, and now it's yours!"

I thought I hadn't quite heard her, but it didn't matter, I was again in the throes, rising toward yet another climax, my whole body reciprocating into Darla's. I felt a pressure on my back and Darla pulled my ass cheeks wide apart, far apart, as if to expose my anus to the air, and then I felt more soft pressure settle onto those spread cheeks to hold them there while a ... a something else soft poked at my anus, and then as I pulled back to lunge again at Darla, that something soft pressed into it, entered it! Something warm and rigid then pushed forward and buried itself in my ass. Not a tampon, thicker than the thickest super size.

Darla was twisting, nudging, ramming her bottom at me and shouting, "Oh, yes, pump, you sweet man, pump, sweet April, fuck me, fuck her, fuck him! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" With each cry she thrust her hips and ass higher up at me and I pushed back as much as possible into her and as I pulled back out again I realized there was A HEAVY TUBE I was myself forcing ALL THE WAY into my ass and then out and then THEN BACK IN AGAIN!

What was it? A cock? It was a cock! I was being fucked! I was locked in Darla's arms and legs, held there helpless and getting fucked in the ass! As my own cock fucked Darla's ass mine got as good as I gave. I was locked in tight between Darla and a heavy body on my back, the one that went with the cock, and his arms came down around both of us to brace on the bed as more of his weight came down onto my back and he humped my ass as I humped Darla's and like one beast with three backs we swayed up and down and into each other and out. I was trapped between them, Darla's legs held me firm and his weight pressed me against her, and there was nothing I could do but rock back and forth and feel the strange sensation spreading from my rear to join the sensations rising from my cock.

I was being fucked by a man and it felt wonderful! It felt wonderful! I twisted my rear back against his cock to drive it deeper into me, then again, and at that moment, I realized, I wasn't fucking Darla as much as that cock, I was trying to clamp it deeper into me instead of pushing my own cock deeper into Darla. I wriggled my buttocks against that broad, heavy belly lying heavily across me, and my ass felt ... wonderful. Then again and again, scarcely aware that Darla had begun groaning under me as those very wriggles, my own cock deep in her own ass, transported her into another world. She was now avaricious, as always when she went off the deep end, but I didn't care, that cock inside me was now the pole of my existence. Hands—his hands—were grasping at both my teats, kneading them, touching my swollen, unendurably delicious nipples, and without my quite realizing it my sensations overflowed as we all three went tense at once and I felt my sperm course into Darla as enormous pressure pushed down on my buttocks and that thing inside me swelled up huge and its warmth pulsed into me. And then begin to leak back out. Fuck or be fucked. I'd been fucked. All the way. Good and fucked.

There was a momentary silence as I recovered my breath, aware of heavy breathing in my ear. Darla recovered hers first.

"Now you're not a girl any more, you're a woman, sweetheart!" she breathed at me. Her face, not a foot below mine, framed by her knees as I pressed my shoulders against the backs of them, was glowing. "Now and forever after, whatever else you may think you are, you're a woman. You're tits and ass and heart and soul and cunt and all a woman and all mine! Mine!"

"Who is ...?" I still felt marvelous down below, as if the man's cum were a balm, a nectar spreading through me. His cock still filled my ass. I tried to feel angry, betrayed, but instead I felt ... languishing. Could there be more of this? Somehow, perversely, I felt loved!

His body moved, and the marvelous feeling slipped out of my ass. My ass muscles closed tight as if to keep safely inside me the fluids he'd left there. The bed creaked, and the weight vanished that had been pressing me into Darla. Darla kept her knees locked tight around my head, my head still her rigid prisoner, I couldn't move it. I could see only her face staring into mine, studying my expression, a scarcely repressed smile turning up the corners of her mouth. She just lay there under me, her legs gripping me tight, looking into my face. I heard our bedroom door open and close. He was gone. My lover. That marvelous cock!

"You liked that, April?" she murmured. "Why ask? You loved it! I saw! I knew you would."

"Who? I ...."

"Does it matter who, honey? A man, a very accommodating man. Well hung, too, you certainly know that! Maybe you'll meet him again—if you insist I can always ask him to let you thank him personally with your own mouth. I know you know how to do us both proud. That's right, welcome to reality, honey. No more imagining. No more virginal dreaming about sex, not for me, not for you. We're the same. We're two women who have just been loaded with creamy sperm, and the same pleasure put it there. We're each other. We've been fucked together as if one woman, one flesh. We're married again."

And she released her knees and legs and swung her thighs outward, then lowered them to the bed. My head came free, and I straightened up and leaned back, then forward again, this time lying flat against her body, snug between her legs and pressed against her breast to breast, all four breasts squashed together, pillowy soft, warm. We were one flesh, we really were—I couldn't tell where one of us ended and the other began. As I adjusted my weight to ease it off her and to one side, I realized that my ass hurt. I'd lost my virginity there and it hurt.

She knew. She rustled something out of her bedside table. "Here, sweetheart," she said. "A soothing suppository. I remember how my cunt felt, my first time. Let me slip this inside you to numb the ache. By morning it'll feel fine, I promise you. And just think, from now on it'll be easier to take a man into it, any man of any size, the same as when you were a girl and learned to insert tampons until your body could swallow them up without you even noticing. That's how we women get in all our openings after a while."

"Your hole doesn't hurt?"

She smiled and said gently, "I've been a woman back there a lot longer than you have. And a lot more often. Ashley's been a good friend, and others. Now he's our good friend. That opening's dedicated to you, but others prepared it to receive you, and others will keep it ready for whenever you want it."

"You never told me." A tinge of resentment was seeping back into me, even though my body was still bathing in the afterglow.

"Honey, when you still believed you were a man, you'd have been devastated by anything I could have told you about me before or after we were married. I loved you, but you had little enough self-esteem, and it was propped up by your illusions. You might have guessed how I really am from the way I get when I lose control. Once my orgasms get under way I want more. I crave more. Always more. I must have more. You know that, you've seen it and heard it! And ignored it, wished it away. Well, I couldn't wish it away. I've supplemented you with others, alone and together. There's nothing I haven't done with others and done often. I love those others."

"Darla!"

"But I've always loved you most of all. By far. For your sweetness, your desire to please me, your helplessness. So I couldn't ever let you feel threatened by my ... abundant appetites. I always had to be an itsy teeny weeny baby with you, because my real womanhood would have blown you away, sent you whimpering into a corner, far too frightened by your own felt inadequacies. You couldn't have handled it. You'd have disappeared, like Nick. I had to make provision, find somewhere you could go instead, where you wouldn't feel threatened by my desires. Where you might even share them."

I was still pressed against Darla breast to breast and cock to pussy. And my cock was beginning to grow yet again despite myself. She was confessing herself practically a whore and yet my traitorous cock was turned on by it!

"For six years I'd fuck other men and then come home and cook you delicious dinners to make up for it, and you'd appreciate them, and I'd wait for you to realize that as a man you were simply inadequate, unfit, so maybe I could lead you to an alternative. To someone like April. But you were always so pompous, so sure of yourself. So self-deceived. So weak—look how quickly you yielded yourself to April as she grew inside you."

The finger that had pushed the suppository into me still idly traced the sore rim of my rear as if it were spreading emollients and salves on the irritated membranes. Then it explored the opening.

"You love being April."

Its tip went further into me, then the rest. I was impaled by her finger.

"Yes." I did!

"That's why I led you here, to this bed, this way. So you could feel the ultimate of what I feel, what it's like to be a woman with a man, and get comfortable with it, be glad of it. That's why little by little I led you to imagine and anticipate what it's all about, being a woman with a man, what I was with you, what April was with all those cocks you sucked on when you were a girl. And as April anticipate the cocks you'll suck in the future. As April feel them sliding inside your pussy, maybe even despite yourself. Even now."

That finger was now moving in and out of that very pussy. My asshole. Lubricated by that anesthetic suppository and by that man's cum. Ashley's cum, pumped deep into my guts and now leaking back out. My sphincter clamped onto Darla's finger. She felt it and shut her eyes and smiled.

"Feels good, doesn't it."

Reluctantly, I nodded. She didn't see—her eyes were shut. But she knew.

"This last act of commitment to a woman's world, penetrative sex with a man, prick to cunt. I didn't want you to experience it first in your imagination. The feelings are unimaginable, you know that now. And I didn't want you to anticipate it either, to give that inadequate man in you time to grow fearful and tangle up his thoughts with worry whether he wants it, or if he did, whether that would mean he's gay, then worrying whether he shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as he did. Should I have asked you to write an essay about taking a man into your asshole, your pussy, and bringing him to climax, pleasuring the man and yourself too? About desiring the unthinkable? Asked you to take a dildo into yourself, a pretend cock, and pretend it's a man? No. No way. I couldn't do that to you. But now you know how it feels, what it means, why we women love getting fucked gloriously, directly, by a man who's fit for it. A real man. We both know. Don't we?"

Her delicate finger moved in and out of me like a miniature ghost of that big live cock sliding in and out of my asshole, stretching it, satisfying my whole lower body ... so fully. As if it were a vagina and he'd impaled me and squirted sperm into me. He had done just that! How good it had felt, especially knowing that Darla was feeling in her cunt exactly what I was feeling in mine, at exactly the same moment I was feeling it. This was not imagined, it was real! She was right too that we'd had a perfect meeting of minds. And of bodies. We'd both been fucked in the ass and we'd both loved it. We were practically ... sisters.

"Yes, sweetheart," I replied. "I know. It feels good."

And we both fell asleep, wrapped in each other. This had been the longest single day of my life. But on this day I was reborn.

 

Fifth Week—Saturday

The next morning I woke first and untangled myself from her, and slipped into the bathroom. There for the first time in full daylight I saw who I was. A well-fucked woman rising from her bed the morning after. A woman with wide, mysteriously shadowed eyes and high thin brows who stared boldly back as I looked over her deep pink lips and her creamy smooth face, and the curves of her large breasts with their enlarged erect nipples. I pushed my hair up and back with both hands and then let go, and it all fell into place all around my head and then held, or very nearly, just as Diana had said it would. I was a beautiful woman. Nick would have felt privileged to wake up every morning in the same bed as this woman. I would actually do just that from now on, morning after morning. Because she was me! My prick began to stiffen in salute to her.

Darla had left a flowered nylon wrapper hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I took it and went down to prepare breakfast for the two of us. Then brought it to her. She'd heard the noises below, and I found her awake, sitting up, waiting for me.

"Thank you, April," she said. "You look quite lovely this morning."

"Thank you, Miss Darla," I said. "I feel lovely." And to emphasize our shared joke, my implied resumption of an unnecessary and unwanted mistress-maid relationship, I actually curtseyed.

She smiled graciously, and I suddenly wasn't altogether sure she didn't expect me to maintain the pretense that I actually was her maid. Well, if she did now and then, it would be fun! I handed her a cup of coffee prepared as I knew she liked it, and she took it from me and sighed, contented.

"This is how we'll have breakfast every morning from now on, in bed together, for the rest of our lives," she said. "No matter what either of us has been doing or where we've been doing it the night before."

"Yes," I said. I felt such a warm feeling for her, in my belly, in my heart! More than love, it was devotion. She'd known all along what was best for us.

"We'll begin slowly with you, honey. I know it still feels funny, the idea that you can feel affection for a man and let it lead to intimacy. Though now that you know what it's like, you'll come around, I'm pretty sure. You already miss it, don't you, just a little? You feel an emptiness in your bottom, don't you? It would be soothing to feel that empty place filled, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," I said. What I knew of the actual man who'd fucked me was only the weight of his body on my back and the feel of his cock sliding in and out of my rear cunt. That wasn't much maleness to cope with. Though the memory that came to mind was acceptable enough. Darla was right. My ass could more than accept a man. It could crave one in good time. "Yes," I corrected myself. "It would."

"I'll give Karen a call. I think now it's time you and Roger met. I think you could become good friends."

"We were once," I reminded her.

"As guys," she said. "But girls are different. Roger will help with your transition. He's been a woman for ever so long now, and you have so much to learn, and I know I won't have time to teach you."

She turned to speak to me directly. "I haven't told you yet, because until now I didn't know if it mattered, whether we had a future together. But my plan worked, we do! I've been appointed CEO of my HMO's claims division, a huge job, it needs a complete reorganization. Starting Monday. And that's preliminary to a major buyout of another HMO, and I've been asked to head the entire organization if all goes well. They made the offer two months ago, and I accepted it. That's how I knew we couldn't continue as we were any longer—I had to choose between a major career move or continue to play house with you, and I couldn't even discuss it with you—you were utterly clueless. If I'd left you, you'd have fallen apart utterly. But just in time Karen told me about this "Empathy" course and I saw how to use it to resolve my problem. You had to agree and cooperate and gradually reshape yourself. And you darling, you did!"

Incredible news—head of an expanded HMO? I was so impressed I scarcely heard the rest of what she'd said! I was awed! My Darla—she was mine again—in a take-charge position, head of a huge corporation? Well, I knew how effectively she could change things when she chose to. I looked furtively at her lying there. This was the woman who had planned my journey. Our journey together. And I felt good, warm, knowing she was at the helm.

"Honey, that's wonderful! Congratulations! What was the rest of it again? I got so excited I stopped listening."

"Thank you, dear. It comes to this. I'll be terribly busy. I need you to take care of yourself and our home, to keep yourself beautiful for me and to be waiting for me when I come home exhausted. We'll use this month to get you used to things. Then next month when you go back to work, you'll have figured it all out and be able to handle both jobs."

My first reaction was excitement, gratitude. Our home! Ours! But then disappointment that Darla wouldn't be with me every moment all month. Of course not. That would have been too much to expect. She loves me, but she has her own career to care for too.

"You will do that, won't you, honey? My sweet April? Make a home for both of us?" she asked in a small, worried voice. I turned my head again and saw she was studying me anxiously. I held her eyes with mine for a moment. It sounded wonderful. I smiled. She smiled back, her face aglow, and threw both her arms around me.

We hugged. I trusted her. She's made such marvelous provision for me so far. For both of us. "Oh, sweetheart, "I said to her. "Don't worry about it for a moment!" I kissed her to reassure her. No concern that my lip color would come off on her.

"Now you're all April," she said contentedly. "It'll soon seem natural enough. Of course it'll take more time for Nick to shrink down and disappear altogether into your crotch, and live there for the rest of his life out of sight and mind, except maybe when he's wanted for fucking or for household repairs or something."

Darla'd obviously thought of everything. I felt so lucky! "You're so very sweet," I said without thinking. "I never knew any of this was what you really wanted. Or that I wanted it too."

"There's more," she said, setting her coffee cup on her night table and stretching herself even more luxuriously. "We'll keep finding new things to want. April honey, why don't you just snuggle down under these covers with me right now?"

"All right," I said quickly, and got back into bed.

"No, I mean further down." She fingered one of my curls, looking at me lovingly but also suggestively. "Much further."

"Yes," I said, and did that. My face quickly found its niche, snuggled into her crotch. This I knew would become in the months ahead its favorite dwelling place, its proper place in the world, day or night. I gave her clit a tentative lick. Then another. Then lifted my head to share a discovery.

"Honey, you taste different when I've been in you all night."

Her hands pushed my head back down into her bushy, musky vagina, its home sweet home. "Mmmmm," she said. "Not only then. Not only you. But you'll be my beloved morning after pill. We have our whole lives for you to get used them all."

I licked vigorously, by now delicately, expertly, and when she came, her whole body writhed in its usual orgiastic frenzy, and everything inside her gushed out. It coated her crotch, her buttocks, the bed sheets, and my face. She was slippery slithery soaked. I slid up to kiss her, and she kissed my dripping face back just as passionately. Then as we lay side by side, my cock stiff, it simply slipped into her. So I began to move.

"Honey," she whispered. "The big dildo in my bedside table. Please. In my rear while you're in my pussy. Fuck me from both sides. Please!"

No KY needed, my cum was still lubricating her there too. I reached for that thing in the drawer, my former rival, and held it for the first time since she'd required that I lick it clean as an act of contrition. Huge, heavy, Then turned the purple head toward her anus, and slid it between her cheeks, and pushed. Hard. The fat thing wouldn't move until I found the exact spot with my finger. Then with difficulty I pushed it in, and she pushed herself back onto it, then forward. burying my own prick deep inside her. When I pulled it part way out she seemed to hook her cunt back sinuously, sliding it back against the bottom of my own projecting cock and also onto the dildo. "Ohhh!" I cried, I couldn't help it—and I was pleased to hear that it came out as a maidenly squeal. Soon we developed a rhythm, and she humped me while I humped her in both holes, two way. She went tense as she always did, and orgasmed.

But instead of going frantic for more as always before, she plunged a finger into me, then withdrew it. "The other cock," she muttered between clenched teeth.

I reached toward her open drawer and handed her the remaining smaller dildo, and she sank it into me. Where my tampons had been, where that man's prick had been, where her finger had just been, there was now a smooth, fat rubber penis obtruding, intruding, and ... vibrating! It felt ... wonderful! No strain, just ... comfy! Radiating good feeling! I clamped my ass onto it as Darla moved it in and out of me, but it was too slippery to be slowed.

So, locked together, neither of us able to move at all without moving into or out of any of our four openings or all four at once, we fucked in perfect tandem. It seemed for hours. We became one body, one mind, one desire. Darla's orgasms rose and fell to rise yet higher, and I marveled at how my groin, my asshole and my cock, impaled and impaling, became one shimmering pool of pure pleasure, in and out and of a piece with hers. Until slowly, sweetly, I too rose to an unbelievable height and crossed the crest, and flew, soared, then landed on my darling Darla and pumped and pumped and pumped myself into her.

We had nothing to say when we were both finished. There was nothing to say. We lay there, pressed together side by side, breathing heavily. Then normally. Then at last we removed our everlastingly erect dildoes from each other's assholes, and lay there some more.

"These don't quit," she said. "That's good to remember if you want to keep taking pills to grow your nipples and breasts even bigger, and your cock gradually loses its hunger for me. That's up to you."

"My breasts are everything any woman could desire right now, or any man," I said. "My figure's quite satisfactory. Well, maybe my nipples could do with a little more tweaking. A teeny bit bigger and—well, you know how a woman's whole body gets when someone's sucking on them—a teeny bit more responsive. Another week of those pills and then I'll stop. But when the time comes, I do want to take whatever Emma can give me so both of us can nurse our baby."

"Oh honey," she said. And she threw her arms around me and showered kisses on my face. As she subsided, she said in a small squeal very much like the old Darla's, "That is the sweetest thing any woman will ever hear any man ever say to her!" Then looking at me happily, "Or any woman say to her! That is so beautiful!" She kissed me some more, and I kissed her back, then began nuzzling her neck, and finally I settled onto her nipples. They seemed to leap into my mouth. "Ahh," she said contentedly, "I thought you'd never get around to that. Afterward, I'll do you."

"Yes," I said. And at the thought my own nipples and my much-used penis each stiffened, ever so little but ever so much.

"We can have quadruplets and nurse them all together at once," Darla said contemplatively.

"Triplets. One of your boobs is for me," I said.

"Yes, my dearest, yes! Twins then, and we'll all four of us nurse together."

"Yes," I said, thinking, what a lovely idea! As if we weren't jesting with each other. Were we?

Eventually we pulled ourselves apart and showered, and dressed ourselves. I looked at my face and decided not to add any makeup at all. My complexion was clear, and the pale eyeliner and eyelid shadowing, and my lips, were just a few shades darker than their natural color—all just right for daytime. And as Diana had assured me, my hair did fall into place with a few strokes of a brush.

"A one-piece shift would be the right thing today, April—you'll be slipping your dress on and off a dozen times for different fittings. We need to go shopping. Now. You need everything, and you'll need to try on everything three times over before you find the right everything."

She handed me one of her shifts, a pale yellow sleeveless and beltless dress that matched my hair, simple, perfectly straightforward, hinting at my breasts and hips and figure, concealing yet suggestive.

"I love it!" I said spontaneously.

"It's yours then, honey. Wear it with this necklace and whatever bangle you like from over there in my jewelry drawer. Whenever you want it. But the same will have to apply to any of your things I may like."

"Deal," I said.

"Today first off we're buying you some cocktail and short evening dresses, and then some fuck-me pumps to go with them. With heels like towers. Then I'll feel we can relax and look around for everything else."

"Why those things first?" I asked.

"You don't own any fun clothes at all. Earlier this week I set up some tentative dates for us. For tonight." Darla was now watching me closely in the mirror as she applied her own make-up. "In case things worked out with us as I'd hoped. As they have, much better than I'd hoped."

"Dates?" I asked. "With men?" A certain anxiety entered the pit of my stomach. But, I marveled to notice, also a certain anticipation. And no trace at all of revulsion. My ass muscle spasmed slightly, eagerly. Had one fuck made me a convert?

She turned and looked directly at me. "I should hope so. Two of them. Strike while the iron is hot. And don't tell me you're not hot, girl, I can see that with my own eyes!"

She needed to be told how I felt. "All right," I said. "I'm glad. Very. Mind you, I don't date strange men, and I never accept blind dates, so consider this is a very big favor to you. I get first pick. I want the taller one. I hear that taller is longer, and longer is better. And better we know is slower. Taller takes its time. If they're short, all they ever have time for is to eat and run."

Darla grinned and cocked her head to one side as if examining me afresh, loving what she saw. "I do love you," she said. "I know I was right to do this."

Hearing her, I felt warm all over, and my face flushed with pleasure. Maybe I should have used a cover foundation after all? I kissed her with my eyes.

"Right now you need a special kind of man, April, because you're a special kind of woman. So you don't get to choose. Your date is special. His name is Ryan, incidentally."

"All right," I said. I felt relieved. I hadn't known how to deal with that part of it. Men can get angry when they find their woman isn't appropriately equipped.

"But Ryan, it happens, is very tall, and very long."

"You're an angel!" was all I could say. Now a delicious apprehension filled me. Here it was. My very first man. After Ashley, I mean. That part I felt sure of now, the sex part, thanks to Darla's sandbagging and sandwiching me. But the earlier part, the romantic dinner part, and small talk, the ... snuggling, and so on? The being a proper yet enticing lady-on-a-date part? That made me uneasy. I'd never been that, not ever dreamed of being that.

But I knew I did want to look simply smashing for him -- Ryan would be my first date ever really and actually, not just in my teenage imagination written out for Darla's approval. I wanted him off balance from the beginning, so I could control events and do things with him in my own good time. Overwhelm him with my feminine appeal! "Are we ready to go? I have things to buy. Do I have a purse?"

"You will. Here, use this for now. I'll drive until you can get a new license with a new picture ID. You do know how to file the court papers for a change of name and sex for yourself, I suppose."

"Oh yes," I said casually. And only afterward did I realize she'd been watching closely to see if I would balk at that idea too. Changing my legal identity to a woman's was serious. Sort of permanent. But curiously, it hadn't occurred to me that it shouldn't be permanent.

This was my first outing in a dress, and Darla had to show me how to sit down on the car seat and then swing my legs in together, ladylike, not climb in like a man. "Roger will show you lots of little tricks girls need to know," she said. "I won't have time." It was true. While I was being a lady of leisure for a month, I realized, she'd be hard at work. With her promotion and the takeover, impossibly busy.

I commented on the fact.

She swung into heavy traffic at the end of our street, and headed now for the massive shopping mall just south of town. "You're right, I'll be terribly busy. But things are arranged. While you're using your accrued leave from your former job, you'll take care of our house for both of us. Everything I used to do while holding down my own job you'll do as your full time job for the whole month. Cook, clean, shop, everything!" She grinned. "And greet me each evening with a kiss and a lovely dinner, the way I did you for so very long. I'm so looking forward to that. Maybe wearing sexy lingerie? Will you do that for me?"

"Love to!" I said, and I meant it passionately. The warm feeling in my belly grew warmer. Then I realized that she'd said something odd. "My former job?" I asked.

"When the month's up, I want you to work for me at the HMO. As my legal secretary. There are all sorts of rules and issues and adjudications I can't be bothered with, and I'll want you to attend to them so I can concentrate on larger matters. The hours will be flexible—you can do a lot of it from home when you have a roast in the oven or something." She glanced over at me, then returned her eyes to the road. "Then again, keeping yourself pretty for me all the time is also a full time job. You'll be my trophy wife, after all."

This was news. Come work for Darla? Frankly, I felt relieved. This avoided altogether the awkward moment I'd already foreseen in the salon, when I would have to swish into my office in heels and a dress to face Michelle's knowing grin and everyone else's astonishment. How to explain such a change to my clients so they'd respect me? Males, every male knows, have an obligation to guard, support, and care for their women and children at any cost. Females are the protected class, not the protectors. Men think that men who become women are traitors to their manly responsibilities, copouts who deserve no respect or mercy. 'My wife prefers me this way, and now I do too'? is no excuse.

But this way I'd begin work as a woman in a new place, with no accumulated male past. The other women there would accept me as one of their own. It actually sounded exciting. And I loved the idea of working under Darla. I wondered if that was how Roger felt when he reconciled himself to his life and began working for Karen. Cared for. I nodded my assent. "Good," I added. "I accept all three jobs, legal assistant, homemaker, and trophy."

"Lovely. Now here's more news. You'll work directly under Michelle and report to her. She's agreed to be my executive assistant, my shadow, and she'll be with me whenever issues of any sort arise. So she'll know what needs to be investigated, what legal advice we'll need, and she'll brief you. You'll be fine as long as you do whatever she asks."

"Oh?" I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. "Michelle will be my boss now?"

She glanced at me again, this time with a wry grin. "What goes around comes around, doesn't it? We've discussed this new arrangement for weeks, Michelle and I. She knows everything about you, honey. All of it, intimately. When I didn't know how to deal with you, how to end your overbearing patronizing of sweet little brainless me, it was Michelle who pointed out that you were quite insecure underneath, that your own self-assurance was hollow, and it would be cruel to demolish it without giving you something better. She could always sense something submissive in you, something compliant, something eager for approval. She isn't at all surprised that you've been persuaded so easily to abandon your manhood and take up our ways. But she does admire and respect you for it. And she's always liked you. You were always a good boss, even if a little underassertive. She never took advantage of it, and she won't now as your boss."

Her voice lowered confidentially. "Honey, you'll love this new arrangement, you know you will. Two capable, loving women telling you what to do while you bend to perform their least bidding, proud when they ask your advice and prouder still when they take it, always concerned to please them, fully rewarded whenever they smile at you? Looking forward to their smiles? What better work could a girl like you ever hope for?"

I felt much moved by the prospect of work like that. Each day adrift in a sweet haze of anticipated approval. She was right. I did love it.

"Now, you've asked about Roger. He's been transitioning for nearly a year now, and he's been a complete woman for over half that time. Roger'll teach you practical day-to-day things. How to turn down or accept offers from men graciously, the best ways to mix and match outfits, when which stores schedule their best seasonal sales. How to douche before a date so you're pristine, so you can abandon yourself to whatever loving you have in mind without worrying about accidents. You know. I think you'll love getting to know him again."

"'Him'?" I asked. "Even though he's 'a complete woman'?"

"Yes, he's a 'him,' Karen wants him always to be reminded of his humble beginnings, that he was once a man. So he'll always live feeling a twinge of humiliation that now he's so unmanly. That's the price he's paying for his former arrogance."

That was Karen. Worse than Becky. I was glad now I'd never been arrogant with Darla. Officious yes, but never stubborn or demanding.

"You'll be together a lot, and not just socially either. I'm appointing him your private secretary and paralegal and general all around everything you need. It's a big promotion for him, and he's already terribly grateful. He says he'll do anything you want him to do. Anything at all."

"Oh?"

"Let me explain. Karen went through this course last year, you remember, but Roger wasn't at all as cooperative as you were. She tells me he was a lot more aggressive, really quite authoritarian and dogmatic whenever she asked for even the smallest concession. He cooperated minimally, did his essays perfunctorily and hated all of it, it all seemed pointless, and he called Karen a twit for imposing it on him. So she got quite angry. He brought it on himself, but ... well, one day she put him in heavy makeup and a big-haired wig and a short skirt, supposedly so he could walk a few blocks attracting wolf calls, so he could see for himself why women resent rude male behavior. You'd never need a lesson like that, sweetheart, but he did. He thought it was a lark and went along with her, but when they got to that part of town, he refused to get out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Just refused!"

I tried to imagine myself resisting and resenting the things I'd been asked to do. I could never have done it. It wouldn't have occurred to me to try. I loved Darla. I always wanted her happiness. I wanted her to feel pleased with me.

"So she faked a flat tire in front of an all night bar, and when he got out to see what was wrong she pointed to the bar and told him to earn his taxi fare back home there and drove off. He did get back by daybreak. It took two $10 blow jobs it turned out, that's the price in that neighborhood, and something else he had to do with the taxi driver he still won't discuss with anyone."

I was silent. I could feel sorry for Roger, a little.

"But it taught him nothing. The next weeks of the course, getting his help was like pulling teeth. He refused the blow-job assignment flat, so Karen decided to make him a blow job specialist. Took him to an out of town clinic for a checkup and had them remove all his teeth, then give him a removable set. She had his jaw made smaller at the same time, and he had other facial surgery, so he looks kind of cute now. Then when he was healed she put him back out on the street. Told him he wouldn't get his teeth back or be allowed to return home until he'd lived solely on cum, nothing else, for a week. So he did."

"That's cruel!"

"Yes, that's Karen. But he's quite a doll now, you'll see. Then there was yet another problem. Unlike you, he had no imagination. No empathy. No ability to move toward an awareness of Karen's feelings as a woman and eventually his own. Karen decided finally that the only way he was ever really going to understand how women feel about anything was all at once. Total immersion. She arranged for them to live together as two women, like us, but he wouldn't take it seriously—he kept wanting to put his penis into her whether she wanted it or not, and he refused his share of the housework. That was his "male prerogative" he'd say. She got tired of his obstructionism. So one morning he woke up in a hospital with breasts and a vagina and no male prerogative at all."

Darla looked over at me affectionately and saw my expression. "Oh, no fear, honey," she said. "I love yours, I'll never ever want to part with it. That's how I'm being cruel. Because I know that as you get to know men better you'll wish you had a pussy of your very own to welcome them with. Every woman does. But I won't let you. You can't have both mine and your own. Your consolation is that you'll always have mine. We'll share it."

I felt relieved. A little.

"Anyhow, she sent him away for further training and now Roger is exactly the way Karen wants him, gelded and queer, these days much more interested in what men can do for him than anything Karen can do. He took it hard at first when he woke up with no cock and no balls and his vagina packed with gauze and brand new breasts hanging from his chest. Very hard. But after some months he decided to be thankful he was still alive, given how Karen felt. So he's been very dutiful and helpful to her ever since. He agrees with her about everything. Really, Roger becoming a woman was what saved their marriage. And he really, really wants to work for you. To make you happy too as only a woman can."

She paused, then went on. "Karen and I do hope you two girls will become close friends. So every Monday morning you'll enjoy chattering with each other about your weekends, who you dated, where you went, what the guys were like, and so on, and gossip about everyone else's weekends too. Just as you and I will whenever we're together at home. So you won't be tempted to remember the past overmuch, or inquire too closely into more important matters at work that don't concern you. We don't either of us want your pretty little heads troubled by serious matters."

She smiled at me. I wasn't sure whether I liked being treated like a bimbo, but I was glad not to have to worry about it.

"More still. Roger will want to tell you this himself in his own way, but he's looking forward to sucking your cock every morning first thing when you come in to the office, while you're reading your mail. Every morning. That's if I ever leave anything in you for him to suck out. He's seen your essays and he's impressed, but he's sure he can teach you a few things about hand jobs and blow jobs you don't know. I don't doubt some will be things you can pass on to me to improve our sex life together and mine separately."

She looked at me. I didn't flinch. How could I?

And then she turned into the mall. A huge line of colorful stores loomed in front of us, most of them designed to appeal to and satisfy women. "First we need to take care of tonight. That's dinner and dancing, then a nightcap. Two different outfits. Then we can fill in with some of the other things you'll need—though you'll have a whole month to outfit yourself for life the way you'll now want to live it, lots of time to enjoy the pleasures of making yourself attractive. For tonight, a very smart dress I think, revealing but chic, well-designed, something that tells Ryan you value yourself, you are class goods and will give nothing away free, so he'll be as eager to please you as you are to please me. His reward will be seeing you in another outfit, a nightgown and peignoir, when you get him home."

"That's how it works?" I could feel the answer in myself. The pleasures of feeling accepted, of submitting to the desires of a beloved woman, yet also the pleasures of being in charge and graciously appreciating a man's servitude. I'd be having it both ways from now on. Life was good.

Epilogue

I came away that day with a stunning beaded cocktail dress molded to my figure along with a matching purse and shoes and all the accessories, and also for any unforeseen emergencies a demure Little Black Dress I loved at first sight. Plus two pairs of heels a whore might blush to wear—I tottered home in one pair, I was so eager to see how my legs looked with the severe concave arches they imposed on my instep. And a gorgeous tulle and lace nightgown for when I took Ryan home and wanted to change into something more comfortable. Darla agreed she'd steer her own date elsewhere, to his place or else a motel, so I could be affectionate with Ryan the first time on my own, without the embarrassment of my wife looking on.

As it turned out, Darla and her man left together even before Ryan and I had finished our third dance, and when Ryan left our house at dawn the next day there was no doubt I was a woman. Darla came home to sleep an hour or so later, and we both tumbled into bed and into each others' arms exhausted. And slept ten hours, then talked and giggled and laughed together about the two guys for hours and hours more. And made love, not just had sex. Then slept again.

That same shopping trip we bought many other things I've worn since, with many more yet to be acquired. My current steady admirer is an extremely rich man whose own wife doesn't know he's gay, who keeps trying to buy me whatever I may happen to glance at in passing. I allow him to do so now and then, it's good to encourage generosity in other people—I'm that way, I can't help it. I was finally fully outfitted by the time we went on an early winter holiday, and several men I met on shipboard—we cruised the Bahamas—were the beneficiaries. Darla and I giggled for weeks after our return about how persistent some men can be—it was as if they'd been denied access to a cunt or an ass for months and couldn't believe we came equipped with both and at their service. Both of Darla's got well-used, and mine moreso because it had to do the work of both of hers.

Work turned out to be much easier than my law practice at my old office—very few complicated cases, mostly it's a matter of making sure the organization performs by the book and of negotiating our way out of trouble when it doesn't. Roger turned out to be a love, a very pretty little thing, all gauze and perfume and feminine flutters, and a delightfully naive bimbo expression they gave him during his facial surgery. He's loyal and devoted to our work and to my cock too, though maybe a little too insistent each morning on proving it. His smooth gums sliding up and down my tube—really still Nick's tube, but that's all that's left of him—yield sensations so unique for both of us that he gives me no trouble at all for the rest of the day, even when the glorious sex I've had the night before with Darla or some man has left me nothing to reward him with.

I always manage to leave the office early, to shop in for things we need at home or to attend my cooking class, where I learn new ways to have something delicious yet slimming, smelling wonderful, ready to serve my darling Darla whenever she finally arrives home from a difficult day at her office. That's my special pleasure—we've both slimmed down and are quite shapely, and want to stay that way so when we go out we can have our pick of whatever's available. I make myself beautiful and then wait for her in our living room in one of my prettier dresses, or my tightest jeans. If I'm feeling naughty and we both have early dinner dates with very little time to change, I'll shower and perfume and put on some of the fabulous lingerie we both share that makes me feel so... so very sexy, and then one drop of fragrance, and nothing else. I'll curl up with one of her old romance novels and just wait for her.

When she gets home I'll put up my face to be kissed, but usually I'll be so eager to see her that I won't be able to help myself, I'll throw myself into her arms and hug her close, and in that little nursery school voice she loves to hear I'll tell her how grateful I am that she's the woman of the house and takes such good care of me, how much I love her. She needs the encouragement. She's often tired from carrying heavy burdens at the office, but my love and my devotion and my cooking never fail to relax her and cheer her up. Sometimes she tells me never mind dinner, turn down the burners on the stove, dinner can wait. And then she leads me up into our bedroom.

I never know what will happen next. Sometimes we make love, sometimes tenderly, sometimes ferociously. Sometimes she only wants to feel her pussy expertly licked, and once when she came home tired and mussed she wanted it sucked out. It was terribly sloppy and tasted odd, as happens now and then, but we have a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy designed to keep her business affairs confidential, so I never asked her why or even told her about it. Sometimes she'll ask me to help her dress in a tight, slinky gown for an important business meeting with a head of a hospital or pharmaceutical company at some hotel, or some equipment supplier will want to wine and dine her. Sometimes she asks me to accompany her as if I were her assistant—my job then is to chat with their wives or to distract their associates while the two of them settle their affairs together elsewhere in private.

Now and then she'll invite an out-of-towner home for dinner, telling him about the marvelous dishes I cook up, and she'll give me notice enough to buy the necessaries and prepare them before they arrive. Then she'll come home and change to a stunning hostess gown, while I change to a simple maid's dress—long skirt, apron, white collar, rather dumpy, my hair covered by a frilly cap—because Darla doesn't want another lovely woman distracting her guest. It's more gracious, entertaining one-on-one with a servant attending to both of us, she says. After I've served 'Miss Darla' and her guest their after-dinner cordials and cognacs she'll praise and then dismiss me, and I'll retire to "my" room, the "maid's room" as we call the guest room for her guest's benefit, so as not to inhibit whatever may follow. I sleep there those nights instead of in the bedroom we otherwise share.

Most evenings, though, we dine together on the gourmet delicacies I've prepared, just the two of us, and she'll praise them extravagantly and I'll glow with pride. She doesn't at all mind when the table is decorated with a bouquet of flowers or a plant sent me by one or another affectionate admirer.

We may be the happiest couple I know.

There's a new "Assertion and Empathy Training" course scheduled to begin at the Women's Center next week, and Darla's asked me if this time I might want to try it. But what for? She already understands me and my desires, and by now I understand hers well enough. And by following her example I have no problem getting men to understand mine, so I'm content to leave well enough alone.

And that's my whole story, and this is my last formal essay for the "Assertion and Empathy" course we both started a few months ago—has it been only a few months? The assignment this time was to 'review everything that happened since the course began, any major changes in your life, how they came about, how you felt about them, how you feel about them now, and as far as you can tell, how your wife feels about them.' This provides Darla with written evidence that I now know pretty much everything I need to know about what she wants and needs and how she feels, and also how I feel about being a woman. It should do. It's taken endless time to write this, but I'm fairly sure that when Darla gets home from the office tonight and has a chance to look it over, she'll be pleased. I really do hope so.

End

 

  

  

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