Losses

by Meeah Soo

 

It sort of starts before you even really know it. Your wife or girlfriend tells

you she knows about your little hang up. You pretend not to understand what she's talking about, but your obvious embarrassment gives you away. She tells you it's okay so you admit it, and it's like a dream come true when you slip the panties on and she tells you how cute you look and she rubs your "pretty little cock" and that night you have the best sex of your life.

She encourages you to shave your legs and runs her hands over your newly smooth flesh and she makes these sexy growling sounds like she just wants to eat you up. She tells you how much she loves you like this and proves it with even more great sex. So you feel pretty comfortable wearing panties all the time and wearing nighties to bed and letting your hair grow out. You don't have to hide anything anymore and it's such a relief. She tells you she thinks it's sweet when you admit how you used to sneak around wearing her high-heels. She encourages you to put on a pair for her and tells you how hot you look and what great legs you have. You're dizzy with excitement and she tells you to keep the heels on while you have sex that night and doesn't seem to mind when for some reason, as excited as you are, you can't seem to sustain an erection long enough to penetrate her.

The losses start slowly. She doesn't really pay attention to your opinion on finances and things like that. But it's okay, because, really, you were never that good at those things anyway. She doesn't think you should spend so much time with your friends because they are a bad influence and they don't understand you. She only needs to ask one question as proof: What would they say if they knew your secret? Besides, wouldn't you rather spend more time with her? So you go shopping and brunching and visiting with her friends and it really does seem much nicer. You start losing interest in the things that seemed so interesting to you before: like sports and cars and suddenly guy-talk just seems so crude.

You like looking at magazines about fashion and relationships and celebrity gossip and stuff like that. TV is fun when you're talking on the phone and the best shows are the ones with love-stories, even if they often make you cry. You dress in girl clothes full-time at home and she has you keep a little journal of your thoughts and that gives you something to do when she's working late or out on the weekends. She reads the entries and she finds some of the things you write so "precious" and that makes you feel better when you start to worry that maybe she doesn't really like you the way she did before.

She's supportive when you lose your job, even though it really was your own fault. You should have been more careful on the internet at work when she told you to check out those sites for other "girls like you". You still don't know how your boss found out. Anyway, it seems logical that you should start taking care of things around the house to pull your weight. You send out resumes in the meantime but they don't seem to get answered. You don't dare use your old contacts because you're really pretty embarrassed about being found out and you end up kind of isolated. Its okay, though, cause you still have her, and you do your best to keep the place clean and have dinner ready when she comes home and to relax and ease her tensions.

But, still, the losses start coming faster. That problem with your erections has gotten worse and worse. At first, you tried to hide it, but there's not really any hiding that, is there? She tells you it's okay, that it's probably normal for someone going through what you're going through. You go down on her and she seems to enjoy that; at least, she tells you she does, but somehow she seems a little unsatisfied. She used to go down on you, too, and it felt good even if nothing much happened, but now she doesn't bother any more. You can hardly blame her.

One night she seems especially frustrated about something or other and she takes you anally with a dildo inserted into a belt that she has strapped around her waist. It hurts quite a lot, but you're so relieved when it seems to make her cum that you forget the pain. She uses the dildo whenever you have sex from now on and you get used to it; you even get to enjoy it, and find that if you concentrate you can cum, too. The first time this happens you start to cry and you can't say why and she seems surprised but then she holds you and kisses you and tells you how sweet you are. You feel happy for the first time in months.

Soon you're going to lose everything, but you don't know that yet. You start leaving the house to go grocery shopping during the day and you're wearing girl jeans and flats and midi-t's. It seems natural. You get a job part-time at an ice-cream restaurant in the mall and it doesn't bother you when some teenage boys you're serving snicker at you and call you a fag. What does bother you is that your uniform pants are white and very tight and you think they make your ass look fat. But she says you're just being silly. At home, you know that life isn't perfect but every relationship has problems and it seems things are going relatively okay. Is it really that big a deal that you don't have sex that much, anymore?

You talk about your doubts to some of the other girls in the neighborhood and they're really supportive but you can't help feeling they know something they aren't telling you. In bed together one night you tell her what you really fear and she tells you that you worry too much. She gets you to laugh like she always does even through your tears by telling you to wiggle you're newly painted toes. Then she kisses you on the forehead, tells you what a cutie you are, and goes to sleep. The next day you realize she never really answered your question.

You've lost more than you already know by now. She's out all the time and there isn't much you can say about it without getting her angry. You cry a lot, but try not to let her see you do it because she gets annoyed. You've thought of the worst and so you think that maybe things aren't as bad as that. Then one night she comes home and introduces you to George. This is one loss you aren't going to put up with. You start yelling and threatening this guy standing in your living room with his arm around her waist. You order him out of your home and to stay away or else. And they're both laughing at you so you rush at him and he just gathers you up in his arms until you exhaust yourself and settle down and when you feel his hard-on pressing against your tummy you realize he doesn't even see you as a guy anymore. What little strength you had just disappears right out of you and you end up sobbing against his chest.

You stand there, sniffling, sort of paralyzed for a while and then she very quietly orders you to change into your nightie and come back in to say goodnight like a good little girl. You know you're going to do it; that there isn't any other choice, and that from now on everything will be different forever. You nod your head and walk quietly from the room. A few minutes later you're standing barefoot in front of both of them in a pink babydoll staring down at your painted toes and she kisses you on the forehead like she always does lately and sends you off to bed. They don't even bother to go out that night but hang out and laugh and carry-on so you can hear. There's nothing you can do about it, either, And that's the way it's going to be from now on.

You've lost everything at this point, and the rest hardly matters. She brings home pills for you to take, and drives you to a doctor for injections. It really doesn't matter anymore. Besides, she says, you've been taking the medicine all along, "couldn't you tell?" She laughs. George is around all the time now: they make out in front of you and don't think anything of it, and sometimes you realize it's gotten to the point where you don't think anything of it either. You wear girl clothes all the time and they start looking really good on you. Why not? You're built like a girl at this point: all curvy and soft with grapefruit-sized breasts and hardly any pubic bulge even in the sheerest panties.

You do everything around the house and try to be as pleasing as possible, but it doesn't seem to be enough. You get the feeling that she's somehow jealous of you, which is weird at first, since she's the one having the affair, and then it hits you. She's jealous that you might be attracted to George. That's ridiculous, of course, but there's no way to tell her that, and then you start thinking of how you feel when you know George is leering at you dressed in that plaid mini-skirt or a string bikini and you realize that maybe it's not so ridiculous after all.

You didn't think you would lose your home, but you do. She waits until you manage to get full-time at the ice-cream restaurant and when you do she asks you to move out. You look at everything that's happened and it all seems pretty inevitable. How could you not have seen it coming? You cry and she even cries a little too, but you can tell that she wants you to just hurry up and go. She's already packed your stuff and you're out before George comes home that evening. That hurts, but by now, you're used to loss, you've already lost so much.

So you get a small apartment above a store and it's a struggle at first but you manage to eke out a life. The same teenage boys who once called you a fag now whistle and flirt with you when you rush passed to fill an order. You exchanged the white pants for a white skirt and it's lots more comfy and makes your tanned legs look good. You work hard for your tips and pinch pennies but it's still a hard life and so when this older guy starts flirting with you and taking an interest you don't discourage him at all.

He's married, but he says his wife doesn't understand him and has no interest in meeting his needs. It may just be a story, but you never know. Anyway, you're safe for him and it doesn't really seem wrong because he'll never leave his marriage for you and besides, technically, you're a still guy, right? So he's totally okay with the little dangling thingie inside your panties: in fact, he seems to really get off on it and the fact that it doesn't really work anymore at all. He likes blow-jobs, mainly, and stops by your apartment at lunch-time on your days-off. With practice, you get good at it and swallow every drop, but you learn he actually likes to see some dribble off your chin. You have so much to learn.

If you get him really hot, for instance, by sitting on his lap and calling him daddy and grinding your pantied bottom on his crotch, he'll put you on your elbows and knees and fuck you in the bottom. It reminds you of when she used to do that and it makes you a little sad but you cum like crazy and he always leaves some extra money on the nightstand before he leaves. He says his name is Tom, but he might just be saying that.

Sometimes you see her in the mall, or around town. She's usually with George and they seem very happy. She nods or smiles but almost never stops to talk. There doesn't seem to be anything left to say. You get your navel pierced and then you're right nostril because Tom tells you he thinks that's hot. He gives you extra money sometimes just to buy sexy lingerie or fetish platforms. He's a nice guy and you trust him when he ties you up. He likes to suck your toes and spank you but he never hurts you or makes you feel like a freak. You're surprised yourself at how turned on you get when he makes you call him "daddy," and you realize there isn't anything you wouldn't do if he asked you.

And that's pretty much how it goes from now on and probably how it will keep on going for a while to come. You've lost everything except for this new life that is just beginning and every day instead of losing anymore you'll be gaining what it takes to survive in the world as the special kind of girl you really are.

  

  

  

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