A Maiden Gamble
by Sydney Michelle    © Omphale Press, 2001

Chapter Twenty-One

 

"Three, two, one. Open your eyes now, please."

Maria's eyelashes fluttered, eyelids lifted heavily, the room was a blur, out of focus.

"How do you feel?"

"Stiff."

"That's natural. You've been still for quite a while."

Maria focused on the voice, blinked, squinted into the dim light. A figure across a desk swam into view, a dark brown suit coat, a blurry face above a dark green tie. Another blink. The face took form, regular features under pulled back light brown hair, a faint pleasant smile.

"Who are you?"

"Maria. Maria Nueva. But you know that." He does, doesn't he?

"Very good. Some people are a little hazy at first. And who am I?"

Maria strained, the face emerging from the dark. Her eyes swept the desk, found a name plate. Dr. Waggoner. Neal Waggoner. That's right. "You're Dr. Waggoner."

"Excellent. Do you remember why you're here?"

"No."

"Do you see anyone else you know?"

Maria looked around the dim room, barely able to focus. Vaguely she sensed others were there.

"Can't see."

"Let's turn the lights up a little. We didn't want you blinded when you awakened." Dr. Waggoner pressed something and lights began to come up.

"I've been asleep?"

"So to speak. Now can you see?"

"Yes, thank you." Maria searched the room, Marilyn and DeeDee sat on a couch, Marilyn's face was impassive, betraying nothing. DeeDee leaned forward slightly, face creased in concern. "There's Mrs. Costello. And Deborah." Maria pointed to each turn.

"Very good. Now if you would stand up, please. Do you need help?"

Maria shook her head as she rose from the chair, leaning forward slightly before pressing up. She steadied herself with her fingertips, before smiling brightly, as brightly as she could with a slight headache, at the doctor.

He didn't notice, already turned to open a door, pulling it back to reveal a full length mirror. Maria noticed hair coiled at his nape in an elaborate knot, then realized it was a braid coiled into a chignon. He turned back, smiling gently. "Now, Maria, I want you to look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Puzzled, she moved forward, expecting, what? Fun House curves? Perplexed, she frowned at the doctor.

"Just tell me what you see, Maria."

"Me, of course."

"Of course. And how would you describe you?"

Maria looked back at the mirror. "My hair's nice. I like the way it feels on my cheek." She turned her head to catch the side. "She put nice movement in back. And I like the top height. But I think I look better without bangs."

"Who's 'she?'"

"Miss Sylvia. My stylist at 'Benders'"

"Go on."

"My makeup's O.K. Too soft for this light. My face is nice, decent cheeks, but my nose is a little crooked. Lips are nice, although a little off line. See?" Maria flashed a big smile at the doctor.

"It's a very nice smile. And lower?"

Maria fidgeted with her dress skirt, twisting the seam in her fingers. She turned, twisted her head to look at the back. "It's nice, moves well, but yellow's not my best color. I should have worn blue. Why didn't I?"

"I wouldn't know. But you're pleased with how you look?"

"Yes. I suppose." Maria twisted the dress, pulling it around front, fingering the wide black patent belt. "I dunno. If it were backless? I have a nice back you know. I exercise a lot."

"So I understand. Stand straight a minute. Look at the bodice. Is there anything you would change?"

Maria frowned, studying the high square yoke and short sleeves. She reached up, fluffed the sleeve ends, frowned. "I think something fuller here would look better, don't you? And the neck's not quite right. But mainly it's the color. Against my skin I mean."

"Nothing else? What about the way it tucks to your waist? Or hangs under your arms?"

"The waist's O.K. Not too tight. KiKi's been teasing me about 'love handles.' But I can kick over my head now."

"And the bust line?"

Maria frowned, running a finger across the protruding line. "I, I don't know."

"You'd like to change it? How?"

Maria turned, twisted, frowned. "Don't know. It's just doesn't seem to go with the rest of me."

"I see. Why don't you let down the bodice and let's see what's wrong."

"Do I have to?"

"Do what the doctor says, Maria."

"Yes, Ma'am." Maria reached behind to lower the zipper. She shrugged her shoulders and the dress fell, gathering around the belt. She wore only a plain white, three quarter bra. Her finger self-consciously traced the bra top, making sure her nipples were fully concealed.

"Do you like what you see?"

Maria shrugged.

"You'd like to change it. How?" Maria blushed, crossed her arms. "Don't be shy. Many women would like to change something about their bodies. What makes you uncomfortable?"

Maria cupped her left breast. "I don't know. It doesn't seem to fit."

"It? What's it?"

"My bra. It pinches a little."

"Maybe you need a bigger one. Would you like that?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Sure."

"You would like bigger breasts?"

Maria twisted, frowned at the mirror. "Why? Don't you like them?"

"It's not what I would like, it's what you would like. Would you like bigger breasts?"

Maria's hands cupped the underside, pushing slightly up and in. She frowned. Pushed a little more, bulging the flesh over the cups. "I guess."

"What if they just got bigger?"

Maria continued twisting. "That would be nice. I mean, more's better, isn't it? To a point?"

"So you wouldn't mind if they grew some?"

"No. Could they?"

"Well, if your bra's a little tight, they might be. Why don't you put your dress back up and wait for your friends in the anteroom?"

Maria was enormously relieved to cover up. She slid out the door when Marilyn assured her they wouldn't be long. She settled into a comfortable chair, pawing through a stack of magazines for something interesting. She settled on one whose cover promised a survey: "Does He Really Love You?" only to be disappointed to find the pages missing. But she flipped through pages, looking at "Next Season's Styles" even though she thought the models' heads were messy and underdone.

"What do you think, Dr. Waggoner?"

"It went well, but this was the easy part. Like putting on a sticky bandage. After all, the breasts really aren't the problem, only the trigger for her trauma. But that was a nice, healthy reaction, open to larger breasts if it were to happen naturally. Which I gather form Dr. Lampe is likely."

"And the bigger problem?"

Dr Waggoner sat on the corner of his desk, poured himself some water, sipped. "That's harder to say. I've given her post-hypnotic blocks to reduce the impact of her confusion. But those fade and vary in effectiveness. And mental trauma is like physical wounds: some heal up nicely with minimal intervention, while others fester and blow out. We'll know more tomorrow."

"That's a long winded way of avoiding a straight answer."

"To be honest, Mrs. Costello, Maria's in a serious pickle. Neither fish nor fowl, right now she's hung in the middle. Your, uh, training program brought that to a head and she's not sure which she would prefer. There's no way to tell whether she will choose to endure and function as a male, or decide she prefers being a woman. But if she does, she'll want to be complete, changing her pole to a hole. I gather that's not in the immediate future. So she's going to be in limbo, between Anton and Maria, and very stressed."

"How long do you think that will take?"

Dr. Waggoner shrugged. "How long to recover from a stroke? She could decide fairly soon or still struggle years from now."

"Let's try something helpful, doctor. I don't think Miz Daniels can stand more vagueness. What's her prognosis for, say six weeks."

He shrugged again. "She's come a long way in a short time. Keep her busy, give her reinforcement and support, and she could come around. At least not be traumatized and threatening disfigurement. Don't let her sit and stew, and don't work her to collapse."

"So keep on truckin'?"

"Carefully. Let her have some time to look nice, be appreciated, collect her thoughts in light activity. Give her room to experiment, wonder, admire. But mostly loving support."

"Same time tomorrow?"

"That's right. I'll know more after that."

The pair stopped at the receptionist to pay out. Marilyn looked around, bewildered. "Where's Maria? The young blonde woman we came in with? Medium short hair, yellow dress?"

"She went to the Ladies a few minutes ago. I gave her a key a little after she came out."

Panic ran through Marilyn. "Deborah! Go check on her! Make sure she's alright. And that she hasn't flown the coop."

"Is there another key?"

"One more. Please hurry back with it. Second door on the left"

"You bet." Deborah rushed down the hall, frantically searching for the Ladies Room, fearful that she would find her Lambkins lying in a pool of blood. Idiot! To leave her alone! She banged into the restroom. She peeked under the end stall door, saw black pumps. "Maria? Lampkins? You O.K? We're done."

"I'm not. Almost though. Just be a minute."

Deborah sagged back against the counter, ran water to splash on her face. Thank God! I'd never forgive myself.

Maria leaned back against the coolness, panties down, pushing for the last extrusion. She hugged herself, intensely aware of her breasts. "What if they just got bigger?" And if they did? What grows smaller? Maria struggled with the thought, feeling the release under her. Done, she peeled paper, folded it, reached behind to clean herself. The tips of her fingers touched something warm. After she wiped, she reached down in front, fingers sliding through, twisting the dry pubic hairs. Then she touched it, the short, quiet bulge protruding from her groin. Maybe this would grow smaller. It wouldn't be so hard to smooth my panties. Maria was suddenly quite certain if her breasts grew, that thing down below would grow smaller. She frowned, not sure how that would happen, whether it would hurt. But bigger breasts would be nice, just a little fuller, so her dress would hang properly.

She sighed, got to her feet, struggled to raise her panties into position. No hose today, one less thing to fight with. She opened the door, spied Deborah leaning into the mirror, applying fresh powder from her compact. "Oh good, you're here. Would you check to see if I'm straight? And I need to powder my nose too."

DeeDee turned around to embrace her, holding her close. "I'm so glad to see you, Lambkins. You had me so scared."

Maria pushed away lightly. "Why, Silly? Did you think I'd fall in? Now check my skirt in back." Maria set down her purse, fumbling for lipstick and compact, leaning forward to fix her face. Satisfied she pursed her lips to smooth the color, turned to see DeeDee's face screwed up as if she were about to cry. "What's wrong, DeeDee?"

"I just want you to be alright."

"Why? What did the doctor say? I don't have something catching, do I? I mean, he's some sort of specialist, right? Dr. Lampe referred me to him, right?"

"Yes. No. I mean, nothing catching. But we come back tomorrow. More tests I gather."

"O.K. by me. I don't mind skipping one of KiKi's workouts."

DeeDee escorted Maria back to Dr. Waggoner's to return the keys. Maria stood in the room checking her hair in the faint reflection while Mrs. Costello gathered up her things.

With Maria safely buckled in back, humming to herself, Marilyn talked furtively with Deborah as they pulled out of the Med Center garage. "How was she?"

"Not a care. Those must have been some suggestions. Or she's repressing an awful lot."

"Faking?"

Deborah shook her head. "I'd guess Maria's kicking in in overdrive. Just don't ask her to suck lollipops too soon."

"Did I hear ice cream? Could we get some? I've been real good about my weight."

Deborah's face screwed up and Marilyn placed her hand on hers. "Sure, Maria. How about a drive in the mountains while you eat?"

"That would be nice. Thank you, Miz Costello."

Marilyn drove while Deborah spoon fed Maria Neapolitan swirl.

 

§§

 

"Three, two, one. Open your eyes now, please."

Maria's eyelashes fluttered, eyelids lifted heavily, the room was a blur, out of focus.

"How do you feel?"

"Relaxed."

"Good, much better lying down, isn't it? Do you know who you are?"

"Sure. I'm Maria Nuevo, and you're Dr. Waggoner, and, and . . . Are Mrs. Costello and Deborah still here?"

"Right here, Lambkins."

"Oh, good. Why am I here?" Maria sat up.

"Now Maria, you had some stress and your friends were worried about you, so they brought you to see me."

"Am I alright?"

"Well, you're better. You had been working so hard."

Maria frowned. "But I have so much to learn. And not much time."

"Why, Maria? Why don't you have much time."

"Because, because . . ." Maria frowned, concentrated. She looked at Mrs. Costello. "Because she says I must go to work soon. For someone else."

"That's right. And lots of people have been helping you get ready."

"Uh-huh. There's KiKi, and Miss Rania, and Miss Sylvia, and Sharon, and. . . There was somebody else."

"And what were they doing?"

"They were to help me, help me to make love."

"And why would people want you to make love?"

"So they'll feel good, I guess."

"And that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Sure. Everyone wants to feel good."

"So you would be helping them, wouldn't you. Doing them a favor?"

"I guess. Maybe."

"People who do things for others to make them feel good are good people, aren't they?"

"Sure."

"So if you make love to people, make them feel good, you'd be a good person, wouldn't you?"

"I hope so."

"And if you did that really well, that would be a good thing. Because it would make them feel really good, wouldn't it?

"Sure. If you do something well, people appreciate it."

"And how do you get good at something? Usually."

Maria screwed her face. "Practice?"

That's right. So if you practice making love, you'll get better at it. And if you're good at it, you'll make people feel really good. And that means you'll be good person, won't it?"

"Sure." Maria felt something wasn't quite right, but she wasn't sure what. And she wanted, really wanted, to believe it was true.

"So all these people helping you, they're helping you become a really good person, aren't they? And you like them, don't you?"

"I suppose so. Yes."

"So you have nothing to feel guilty about in what you're learning, do you?"

"If it helps people feel good, why should I?"

"I agree. Now that's a pretty dress you're wearing. It's different from yesterday, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh, Miz Costello gave it to me this morning."

"May I see?"

Maria blushed a little, complimented that this man wanted to see how she looked. She stood, held out her arms, pivoted in place. "Do you like it?"

"It's very nice. Blue. And backless. And what a pretty upstanding halter. It sets off your face nicely. Do you like it?"

Maria flushed under the flattering appraisal of the kind voice. "Yes, I do. It makes me feel pretty, special."

"Did you have to get anything special for that?"

Maria sat down in a chair, crossing her ankles, frowning, pulling at her gloves. "I had to get a new bra, one that wouldn't show in back." Her face brightened. "And Mrs. Costello got me these gloves. And the hat. And this bracelet just for today, just this dress."

"It's a very pretty bracelet. Are those real pearls?"

"Not really. But you can't really tell."

"And you changed your hair."

"Just a little. I like the bangs brushed back, don't you?"

"It does show off your eyes. And that little hat! You like how you look, don't you?"

"A girl should care about her appearance."

"And you like being a girl?"

"Well, of . . ." Maria stopped. "But I'm not, am I?"

"But you could be if you wanted to be."

"Do I have to be?"

"No. You don't have to be. But if you chose to be, you'd be a very lovely young lady."

Maria sat silently. Finally she whispered, "Thank you."

"Would that really upset you, Maria, being a girl? I mean, would you rather die than be a girl?"

"No."

"So if you were a girl, that would be alright?"

"If I had been born a girl, then I'd be a girl. You say I'd be pretty?"

"More than pretty, Maria. Lovely. In face and figure, and poise. Would that be so bad?"

"I suppose not."

"So you're learning to make people feel good, and how to be pretty, and you could become a girl if you want."

"Do I have to decide that now?"

"No, you don't have to decide that at all. But it wouldn't be so bad if you were, would it? Lovely, and pleasing, and making people feel good about themselves?"

"No. Not when you put it that way."

"I want you to make a promise, Maria. Would you do that for me?"

Maria drew back into the chair. "Depends."

"That's alright, it's something for yourself. Would that be alright?"

"I guess. O.K."

"You're having to learn a lot, do a lot. And sometimes there just seems to be more than we can handle. If that happens to you, I want you to take a deep breath, and remember that people who help people feel good are good people, and that hurting yourself won't make it any better."

"Huh?"

"When you're stressed, just say to yourself, 'People who help people feel good are good people. I am helping people feel good. I am a good person.' Will you do that for me?"

"Sure. 'People who help people are good people, I'm helping people. I'm a good person.' Is that it?"

"Close enough. How do you feel about yourself?"

"O.K, I guess."

"No, don't guess. Then you're trying to decide what I want to hear. How do you really feel about yourself?"

Maria sank into the club chair, pulling in. "But they might not like it."

"But everyone just wants to help you."

"So why do they yell at me? I try so hard, but there's so much. And KiKI never thinks I do enough, and Miss Rania, oh, I do want to please her so much, thinks I have two left feet. And Chef Nathalie, I'll never do it right. I can't be a girl, I'll never know how, and, and, . . . Maria put her face in her hands and sobbed.

DeeDee sprang to her side, kneeling by her chair, putting her arm around her. "Lampkins, you're fine. Really you are. You're beautiful, and you've learned so much, and developed so much, and what do they know." She rubbed little circles on her back as she held her close.

"See, Maria, people believe in you. Why I'd wager even the people you think you can't please are impressed with your progress. Coaches tend to prod, rather than praise."

"That's right, Maria. Miss Rania was telling me the other day she had very few pupils who had come so far so fast as you have." Maria looked up, cheeks streaked to a trio of faces close at hand. "Now blow your nose, and fix your face. You don't want Miss Sylvia to think you messed up her handiwork, do you?"

Maria took the proffered tissue, honked, fished for her compact.

"Would it be bad to be a lovely girl, Maria? An attractive, accomplished, admired woman?"

Maria shook her head. "No, I suppose not." She dabbed at her face, removing dampness before using the powder.

"Then when you're done, if you'll wait outside for a moment, I need to talk with Mrs. Costello."

DeeDee helped, Maria into the anteroom, holding her by the hand, a supporting arm on her back. She sat her on a couch, smoothing the wide skirt under her legs. "Can I get you something? Water?"

"No, thank you though. Just sit with me."

"Sure, Lambkins. Whatever you want." DeeDee sat close, arm slipping automatically around Maria's shoulders. Her other hand reached across, fingers intertwining with Maria's.

"So where are we, Doctor?"

"You saw. What do you think?"

"She's not ready for a hole between her legs."

"Now that would have been a miracle. But the thought of it isn't a reason to kill herself either. So handled properly, I don't believe she'll try to off herself."

"Handled properly?"

"Feed her well, praise her progress, lots of positive reinforcement. And if you have to give her more sexual practice, keep stressing how happy she can make other people. Lot's of preparation, and lot's of stroking afterwards. Remember when you were a bride?"

"Bennie was the second time around for me."

"The first time?"

"He was young and bit of a pig. In and done and snoring."

"Frustrating, wasn't it?"

"Hell, yes. I'd walk across the street to spit on that twerp."

"So why should it be any less frustrating, frightening for Maria?"

"I see your point. But Tomas was very skilled. And he brought her off. Twice."

"Which just shows how fragile she is. She needs romance, setting, mental foreplay, to be held afterwards and told how happy she made her lover. And then, later, she may be able to throw up her skirts and accept a quickie for what it is."

"A couple of months from now she might not be getting any of that."

"Then her life will be Hell on Earth. She may survive, or she may not. I'd guess not."

"So what do we do to prep her?"

"Praise her. A lot. For real accomplishments, she'll know if you fake it. And if she has a special bond with someone, use it. And what I said yesterday about time and pace, that still goes. Praise her, encourage her, love her a little. She needs it, and surely she's earned it."

"Build her up, huh?"

"She's been torn down enough. She desperately wants to please. If she thinks she can't she'll quit. All the way."

"Alright, Doctor. You're the doctor, so we'll give it a shot."

"More than a shot, Mrs. Costello, put your heart into it or it won't work. If you want to rebuild people, it has to be without reservation on your part. If she reaches out, and you hesitate, she'll fall. And next time, she won't get up."

"Alright, alright. Do you need to see her again?"

"Not now. But if she starts to slide, and really watch for it, bring her back and I'll try to stitch her back together again."

"Another time, then."

Marilyn paid out, turned with a brightness she did not feel. "Anybody for ice cream? But you have to promise not to tell KiKI."

This time Maria and DeeDee took turns feeding each other.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

"So how are you feeling, Maria? Headaches? Unusual pains? Bleeding?"

"I'm sore most of the time, Dr. Lampe, a little, but I think that's the exercises. And my, my, they're tender."

"Your breasts?"

Maria nodded.

"Not unexpected. They've been growing, A lot. They should be tender. No bumps or lesions there?"

Maria shook her head. "Just this spot where I slipped on the bars."

"Well let's check you out to be sure. But first let's get you updated. Down the hall with Nurse Judy for measurements and samples."

Marilyn sat in the chair, trying her best to look like a proud Mama when Maria followed the blonde nurse down the hall.

"Alright, Marilyn, how's it been going since her little spell? It's been almost three weeks."

"How was Tom?"

"Horny as Hell, no thanks to you. Stop changing the subject. Neal said she was a confused mess, fortunately very suggestible. But post-hypnotics only last so long. How's she holding up?"

"You saw her."

"Marilyn. Straight answer time. Or her treatment stops now. Not next week, not tomorrow, Now."

"We 've been doing what he said, keep her busy but praise her a lot. Let her rest dressed up. Solid food twice a day, I think she's put some weight back on. And last week, when she had her next, uh, session, it was up in a room, food, sweet talk, and more praise. At least she wasn't waving steak knives afterwards."

"So you're going through with this. Whatever this is."

"I have to. I've got to much sunk into this project. I mean even when Deborah , , ,"

"When Deborah what?"

"Nothing. Just an idea she had."

"Is she still sleeping with Maria?"

"Uh-huh. Against my better judgement, she's too involved, but Maria seems to like the attention."

"I'll bet. About that bruise."

"Strictly an exercise accident, honest. No punishment, no cause either. She just overextended and slipped off during her stretches."

"She been getting her hormones?"

"You saw. She's blossomed beautifully."

"Too beautifully, You been slipping her extra doses?"

"Nope. I swear. The prescribed dose in her supplement every day, no more. She's very conscientious about her exercises, she dances every off moment. Would that make a difference?"

"Dance? Shouldn't. Heavy exercise would speed up the redistribution of fat some, but she's must have grown a bra size the last month."

"Even belly dance? She's on her knees doing belly rolls, shoulder rolls, back bends and hand work like she was Scherazade, without a storybook."

"A lot of upper body work?"

"Uh-huh. Arm bracelets, neck coin collars, multiple veils, the works."

"Could be, but I still want to check her blood levels."

"Alright, girlie-girl, right back in here and hop up on the table so the good doctor can get a look at you. She's been a busy lady, Doctor. A full B-cup now. And a thirty five bottom. On a twenty-two inch waist. One eighteen. Urine looks clear. No reported stool problems."

"Thank you, Judy. Lie back, Maria and let's get a look at you."

Maria lay back in the examining gown, knees up, now familiar with the routine. Prostate, ball sac, penile exam, internal organs.

"You said you had soreness?"

"Just from exercising."

"You let me be the doctor." Dr. Lampe manipulated her legs, bending, checking the extension, listening to the joints with her stethoscope. Then she repeated the routine on her arms. "Quite a set of delts, there, Maria. What have you been up to?"

"I've been working on my dance routine. I want to be able to do a full ten minutes with my arms at my shoulders or above. Don't you think it's sexy when a woman's hands move in front of her face?"

"Never really thought about it. Now let's talk breast exam. Sit up and drop the gown to your waist."

"O.K." Maria sat up, eyes shining, She liked Dr. Lampe's attention.

"Maria, you're getting to be a big girl upstairs, very nice. But one result is you have a woman's proclivity for breast cancer." Maria looked shocked, frightened. "Don't get too alarmed. The overwhelming majority of woman don't get it. You didn't mention any family history, which make it that much less likely. But it does happen, so you need to know how to do a self-exam. Raise your arm., elbow over your head."

Maria did as she was told, panic in her eyes. Cancer? What have they found?

"Reach over with your finger tips, start at the outside where your breast swells up from your chest wall. Close your eyes and rub little circles, working up and over your breast. That's right. Now the same around your nipple. Let me know if you feel any lumps or hard places. Or if something hurts markedly more than the area around it. Go back if you need to. Now the inside, up the cleavage to your neck. The outside's more important, that's where most of the lymph glands are, but sometimes something starts somewhere else. There. That wasn't hard, was it?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Change arms and do the other breast. Then I'll follow up to make sure you didn't miss something."

Maria shut her eyes and rubbed, unsure of what she was supposed to fell, frightened she would miss something, almost certain her body changes had given her cancer, She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. "Ouch!" Oh migawd, cancer!

"What is it Maria?"

"Here. It hurts."

"You're pressing that bruise, and it still shows purple. No wonder. Let me check. Now how did this happen?"

"I was on the bars, stretching like I usually do before my workouts. I've been trying to get my split wider, so I was working my arms out. Then I slipped, and my bod did something, and I was hanging head down. I kinda remember some bumps as I flopped. And at the end of the exercise, there was this bruise."

"Hhmp, it's a bute. I'd say your center of balance has adjusted a bit lately. But I don't feel anything underneath. That hurt?" Maria winced. "Yep. It's 99 percent likely it's just a bruise, but if it doesn't turn yellow in a couple of days, or it hangs around more than a week, you come back in. Now let me feel your neck." Dr. Lampe felt up her neck, sides and back, checking lymph glands. "Lovely do, Dear. Did you just get done today?"

Maria voice betrayed no small amount of pride. "This is the third day. I'm so glad it's getting long enough to be full and pull onto my cheeks. If it weren't smooth, I don't think I could keep it up. It took almost twenty minutes work as it is."

Dr. Lampe kept feeling, thumping, listening, The rapid breast growth worried her. She hadn't expected this much breast tissue for another thirty days, until the end of her treatment. "You like getting your head done, then?"

"Oh yes, it's wonderful. To lie back and be fussed over, and then to come out all neat and pretty, and smelling of perfume. When I catch my reflection, it's nice, especially now that I have enough to work with. Miss Sylvia said she'd try a real up do on me next week."

She certainly doesn't sound like she's having transition troubles. "Well that's it til the lab results are back. Go easy on the exercises, young lady, at least until you get used to the new you. Now then, have you had trouble lately getting it up?" Maria cast her eyes down and blushed. "I take it, that's yes. Tell me about it."

"The last two weeks, when DeeDee and I have gone to bed together, well, it just doesn't. I get excited, and it gets thicker and tries, but it just won't. DeeDee's been really understanding, and the first time I didn't think too much about it, but I didn't do anything for two nights before last time and still nothing." Maria's voice shut off as suddenly as the words had gushed out.

"I guessed so. When I touched you, nothing. Not even a clinical twitch, nothing. It's to be expected from the hormone levels you're on. There's not really anything to do for it, you'll just have to deal with it."

"Am I, am I, you know, gelded?"

"Dear, right now your sperm count is as close to zero as it can get. That doesn't mean it will stay that way. You go to a maintenance dose and in a few months your sperm count might begin to rise. I say might, because we've hit your bod pretty hard, and they don't always bounce back. The good news is that if DeeDee isn't pregnant by you now, she won't be. And you can still enjoy manipulation as I'm sure you've found out. Your sex drive isn't dead, just reprogrammed. You'll still ejaculate, just less and thinner, with no live rounds. It's kind of the reverse of your breasts: they grow bigger but your spear grows smaller. As I told you when you first came in, at some future time we can reverse most of this. Some with hormones to kick start you, some with surgery, but then it's up to genes and resiliency as to how much you come back. Meantime, enjoy the ability to be intimate without consequences."

Maria lay back, somewhat stunned by the revelation. I guess that's what I feared all along, that I was becoming a woman whether I wanted it or not. 'Your breasts grow bigger, your spear grows smaller.' Just like Dr. Waggoner said. Maria barely heard the instruction to roll over.

"Nice tush, Dear. Long and heart shaped, but your pelvis isn't going to get any wider. But your pants must be tightening up."

"I don't have any. Just leotards."

"Watch those stretches, Dear, or you'll flash the world when you don't intend to. It's nicely rounded, nothing to be ashamed of in a bathing suit. You're getting to be quite a dish, Maria."

"Thank you." The words were muffled, both by her arms and the growing realization that her and receptiveness of Tomas might extend to other males. I was so pleased Dr. Waggoner complimented me, that he noticed what I wore, how I looked. Am I irreversibly a woman?

"You can get dressed now, Maria. I'll give you two prescriptions, one for the next thirty days, and a three month's maintenance supply. I'll call you, Marilyn, if the tests show anything unexpected. And watch that bruise for me. Any questions?"

"Dr Lampe? I can, I mean, I can still go back to a male when this is over can't I?"

She patted Maria's hand. "We'll give it a helluva run. But you may have to adopt an heir."

Marilyn watched Maria all the way back to the Silver Palace. She was unusually quiet, so unlike the determinedly cheery and chatty woman since her episode. When she turned down ice cream and a mountain drive, Marilyn went into major worry. That night DeeDee took her to dinner in the casino's Silver Strike restaurant, even drove her to the overlook for serious necking before touching her softly through a lacy black nightgown.

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

Maria paced nervously in the room, fingering the pink net. For the fourth time she checked her face in the mirror, picked up a rat tail comb, changed her mind. Each move caused the satiny sheath under the net to play over her body, caressing the orbs of her still growing breasts.

"Sit down, Maria, you're making me nervous. He'll be here soon."

Maria waved her hands in the air, fingers spread as if fresh nail polish could dry even harder. "Are the ear drops too much? Too glittery? I don't want him to think I'm cheap."

"I'm sure not, Maria. Cheap certainly doesn't come to mind. Breathtaking, perhaps. But not cheap. Didn't Dr. Waggoner make you feel better about tonight?"

"Neal? I don't know why you wanted me see him again. We had a nice ten minute chat. It's nice to have a man notice things, my hair, my dress, my cameo, and compliment me, but it seemed pointless."

"I just thought you might like to see him again. You seem more relaxed afterwards, and tonight's a big step."

Maria turned, trying to catch the back of her head in the mirror. She reached back, patted the upswept crown hair fan, fingered the thin, added braids, looped and crossed in back. "Yes, I suppose. But I must learn to help people feel good, to be a good person helping people."

Marilyn relaxed at hearing the mantra just as there was a knock on the door. "You sit and look lovely. I'll get it."

Sharon looked sideways at Tomas, dressed in a suit and tie, freshly bathed, smelling faintly of eau du cologne. He held a single rose in his off hand. "Sure you're not overdoing this?"

"You said she needed romance."

"You get too romantic and I might change my mind."

Tomas shrugged as the door, opened wide, Marilyn welcoming them in with a sweeping arm. "Tomas, I believe you know our Miss Maria."

Maria sat on the couch, breathing rapidly, her hands curled in her lap. "How are you, Maria?"

"Fine, Mr. DelaCruz, thank you. How kind of you to call this evening."

"For you." Tomas handed over the one perfect opening rose.

"How sweet." Maria held the stem, closed her eyes, inhaled. Eyes sparkling, she glanced up at Tomas. "You're very kind."

Marilyn gathered up her handbag. "Let's go, Miz DelaCruz. I think we are just in the way." The two swept out together, not without a last frowning glance by Sharon.

The door closed, Maria rose gracefully from the couch. "Let me just put this in some water." She stepped forward to pass around him, brushed against him, threw her arms around his neck. Tomas was taken aback by her hungry kiss on his mouth, her arms encircling his neck, but he recovered to wrap his arms around the incredibly small waist, feel faux silk slide.

She broke off the kiss, clung to him, slid her cheek next to his. "Take me, Tomas, take me now."

"Are you sure? Are you ready for this?"

"Can't you feel my heart beating? Take me before I have time to think. I'm ready. It seems like I've been waiting forever for you to come."

Tomas slipped a hand between them, tracing her tummy. He felt her flutter under his touch, move in response. His hand passed down, traced her pelvic girdle, felt no panty line, found the little stub between her legs. He felt her press to him, stand tip toe, open her thighs.

"I am yours, Tomas. Please use me gently so I may learn to please."

Tomas reached down and lifted her, carried her to the turned back bed, before peeling the net robe off her. Maria lay back, eyes glistening, watching Tomas straighten and begin to peel off his clothes. Soon, soon, I will be a virgin no more.

 

§§

 

Marilyn settled into her private booth, glancing at Sharon. "You O.K?"

Sharon popped open the napkin, a little too vigorously. "As alright as a woman can be who just left her husband with another woman."

"You know she's not, and you'll auction her off in ten days."

"Thank goodness for that. She's getting too close to the real thing for comfort, and Tomas is getting a little too cooperative for my taste." She flipped open the priceless menu.

"Only this last time. Think how Deborah's feeling."

"What can I get you, Miz Costello?" The chestnut haired waitress, hair swept up in a Gibson with a spangled clasp high had appeared at their table, filling water glasses.

"Thank you, Sandra. The Petit Filet for me. Lemon-garlic asparagus and broiled tomato. Our house dressing on the greens. And a bottle of the Chateauneuf, '98. You Sharon?"

"The London Broil with Green Pepper Sauce. The Silver Strike Peas and the Summer Squash timbale. Balsamic vinegar dressing. We're splitting the bottle?"

"Of course. That's all. Sandra."

Sharon waited for the waitress to fade into the dark.

"As for your last question, 'Frankly, my Dear, I don't give a damn.'"

 

§§

 

Tomas stepped out of his pants with all deliberate speed, cock twitching in spite of himself. A tall blue eyed blonde wanted him to take her, use her for the first time, and his wife approved. If she moved like she gave head, he would blow into her almost before he knew what hit him. "Are you alright? Do I need to get you some lubricant?"

Maria shook her head. "No, but thank you. Mistress Deborah has used a plug with me lately. I can relax enough to take you in. But you're my first real, well, you know." Tomas stood by the bed, clad only in thin black socks, seven inch tool waving slowly in the air. Maria reached over and took it in her hand, squeezed it lightly, familiarly, pressing against the back rim. She bent forward, kissed the tip lightly, brushed it with her tongue before turning over.

Tomas stripped out of his socks as she positioned herself, pillow tucked under her breasts, tail high, pink sheath clinging to her cheeks. He slipped behind her, lifting the material to reveal two slender buns, crack warm and tempting between them. His hand covered the span, rubbing gently, then his mouth found the mounds, sucking sweetness from the tender flesh.

"Please, Tomas, please."

Tomas slid forward on his knees, prong poised at the nether crack. One hand reached round to steady her, the other steadied the prick. His head found the clean ring, passed up and down, pressed forward.

"Wait, please wait."

Tomas sat up, pressing the rod firmly forward put not shoving it home. He heard Maria moan, felt her tremble, her buttocks relax. She pressed back, opening herself, pushing her opening back onto him. At the parting, he pressed forward, felt the virginal ring open, accept him. The length slipped home, his loins against her cheeks as she arched to receive him. He felt her shimmy beneath him, accommodating her sheath to his sword. The shaking sent tremors back through him, and his belly twitched in response.

Tomas reached around, pressing Maria's clit as he began to jiggle and drive home. Maria's body shivered in response, unexpectedly pleasured by the combination of fullness and pressure. Each stroke drove her sensitive breasts into the pillow, each return dragged her back, clasping to hold him inside. Her belly rolled, her back shimmied, the piston driving her.

Tomas bucked, pressed home, trembled and exploded. The gush came and he could only press close, thick fluid gushing through him into Maria. The tremors were rapid, short, his hand trembling in time. Maria rocked coherently, rewarded by being swept by the tide, her body trembling, stiffening, what little fluid she could produce flushing through her to spill over Tomas's hand. Maria collapsed, relaxed, buttocks still high until she felt warmth withdraw, hands lay her gently on her side.

Tomas lay silently beside her, stroking her back sleepily. "Was it good for you?"

Maria nodded sleepily, snuggled close before drifting off. "Thank you."

 

§§

 

"Can I get you ladies something else?"

"Coffee, Sandra, please. No dessert."

"Raspberry tea, please. And a brandy." Sandra faded away.

"You sure?"

"Never surer. He's getting laid. I can at least get plowed."

The two women sat silently, small talk long exhausted, Marilyn assured the pieces were in place. Only the soft croon of the piano player made the room at all bearable. Sharon sipped , alternately tea and brandy until there was enough room in the cup to combine the two.

"So how jealous are you?"

"Trouble is, I've come to like the little bitch. But right now I could cut her in little pieces and feed them to wolves."

"Careful. That's my job."

"Whistle if you need an assistant." Sharon spotted Tomas threading his way through the tables. "Well, look who's come home, wagging his tail behind him. The cat who ate the canary. No, the cat that was eaten by the canary. But not tonight."

Tomas cast a wary glance at Sharon, turned to Marilyn. "Snockered?"

"Totally lit. You better get her home. If you know what's good for you, you'll take tomorrow off and as soon as her head can stay on, blow the top off."

"Gotcha. C'mon, my lovely, let's go home."

"Why? Too pooped to peck her?" Sharon giggled. "I made a funny."

"Uh-huh. And I'm driving." Tomas gathered his wife out of the chair, steered her across the floor, taking the long, wide way around.

Marilyn watched them go, sighed, sipped her coffee. She picked her purse out of a side chair, fumbled in its bowels for her cell phone. She punched in a number, waiting head in hand for the pick up. "Deborah? Get up to 555. Maria needs you."

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Sydney Michelle. 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.