Several years ago I wrote the story HEELS which told the tale of a man and a magical pair of stiletto heel pumps which allowed the gentleman the ability to change into a fully functional female on a purely elective, part-time bases. Well, as fate would have it, another pair of those rather unique high heels has come into the possession of yet another young man. In a serialized, five part Tales of an Amateur Gynecologist (TAG), I have tried to explore how an avowed heterosexual male might use such heels to his advantage.
TAG 1 - Practice Makes Perfect
TAG 2 - Best of Both Worlds
TAG 3 - Inside Trader
TAG 4 - Balancing Act
TAG 5 - Confession is Good for the Soul
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Tales of an Amateur Gynecologist 4 - Balancing Act
By: Deane Christopher ©
DEANECHRIS@aol.com
Synopsis
Ten years prior to the events that are recounted here, one Mr. Joseph Grant had come into the possession of a most remarkable pair of women's high heels. One evening, several months after his impulsive purchasing of the heels, Joe found himself spurred on by a silly and capricious whim to actual try on one of the pumps. Oddly enough, a shoe that did not have a snowball's chance in hell of accommodating that manly sized foot of his did. And, to Joe's everlasting shock and consternation, not only did the pump slid effortlessly onto the terminus of his lower appendage, it substantially changed that foot of his into something more reminiscent to that of a female's. Subsequent experimentation resulted in a comprehensive sexual reapportionment of Joe's physicality in which the heels turned him into the physical personification of his own wet dreams.
Though Joe was as heterosexual as the heterosexual could be, repeated almost nightly use of those magical high heels of his had quickly turned him into a narcissist's narcissist. Within the week or so of his initial foray into the fascinating and ever so pleasurable world of the feminine mystique, Joe had become hopelessly addicted to spending a considerable part of his leisure time as a physically functioning female. Understandable, as he began to gain first hand experience with all the nifty in's and out's of his feminine physique, Joe, when presented with the opportunity, began to put into play the insider information he was amassing. And, as Joe began to refine, expand and upgrade the various lovemaking techniques he employed when addressing the carnal needs of the women he had an occasion to date, he began to gain a reputation. His buddies, upon hearing one of Joe's former girlfriends jokingly refer to him as an amateur gynecologist, began to haze the hell out of him about it. However, their hazing, compounding in upon all the giddy girl-talk that had begun to circulate, only served to make Joe a much sought after commodity. Young women, upon hearing the almost scandalous scuttlebutt extolling Joe's prowess as a slow-handed and talented tongued lover, desired to verify for themselves if what they had heard about Joe was indeed true. The net result being: Joe was tagged as a modern day Casanova and so, entered into what he himself sarcastically referred to as his bed hopping/kid in a candy store/counting notches on his thighbone period, a period in his life that lasted almost six years.
Oddly enough though, as Joe's fame and proficiency as an experience lover of women rose exponentially, Joe found that he was becoming increasingly envious of the women with whom he engaged in sexual tete-a-tetes with. Though he always enjoyed making love to a woman, Joe began to long for the day when a woman would make love to his feminine alter ego with the same gusto and proficiency that he himself employed when getting it on with a member of the fairer sex.
Occasionally, Joe, functioning as the gorgeous blonde bombshell Jo, enjoyed a short-lived lesbian fling. Basically, he did so due to the fact that they helped to relieve his pent up tension. And though he generally found the sexual aspects of such relationship to be extremely gratifying, Joe came to the stark realization that a long-term lesbian relationship could no more satisfy his needs than could a long-term relationship with a heterosexual woman. And do to that fact, after a lot of soul searching, Joe had an epiphany! He came to the realization that what he needed to round out his life was a woman who was a bisexual, a woman he was compatible with, a woman who could satisfy his very unique carnal needs.
Trouble was: knowing what kind of woman he needed, was one thing. Finding the kind of woman he needed was quite another. Especially so, when one factored in the persnickety compatibility issue.
Adopting the axon that extraordinary needs require extraordinary measures, Joe, though he sometimes felt like a real cad for doing so, eventually began to enlist his feminine alter ego as sort of an ad hoc matchmaker and all around go-between. Functioning as the sassy sexpot, Josephine, Joe would make friends with a woman who he one: was sexually attracted to; and two: suspected of possible harboring at least some latent and repressed bisexual tendencies. Then, having gained the woman's confidence, Jo would off-handedly eluded to the fact that she had an unattached male friend of hers that she thought her new girlfriend might just hit it off with. Then, if that new girlfriend of hers showed any interest whatsoever in Jo's implied suggestion, Jo would innocently make it known that she would be more than happy to act as a go-between and see if she could arrange a blind date for the two of them
After four long, tedious and emotionally packed years of dash hopes and broken dreams, that is how Joe Grant had come to meet the lovely and vivacious brunette Beth Hammerman. Oddly enough, though Joe had not held out much hope that Beth Hammerman harbored any latent bisexual tendencies, he had come to find that she did indeed possess the sexual mindset that would allow her the mental leeway to swing both ways. In a confidence shared with his feminine alter ego, Joe had been appraised of the fact that Beth had been involved in a month long lesbian relationship with her one time college roommate. He also learned in a subsequent conversation that Beth was sexually attracted to his feminine alter ego to the point where she had actually begun to entertain the notion that where the situation different, she might have been otherwise open to engaging in a lesbian relationship with his herified self.
* * *
"Thank you, Lord!" Jo giddily exclaimed as she climbed in behind the wheel of the Saturn she had inherited upon her saintly mother's death. "I promise if this thing works out with Beth, I'll be the kind of person you want me to be..."
Beth Hammerman was exactly the kind of woman that Joe had spent the last ten years of his life searching for. She was pretty. She was fun to be with me. She was intelligent. She was easy to talk to. She shared a lot of the same interest that he did. She enjoyed doing the same sort of things that he enjoyed doing. And, from all that he had been able to glean, she seemed to like going the same sort of places that he enjoyed going. And for toppers, pretty much sealing the deal, Beth Hammerman, by her own admission, appeared to harbored some latent bisexual tendencies, tendencies that dovetailed nicely into Joe's proclivity for spending much of his leisure time as an anatomical correct member of the fairer sex himself.
Beth not only met all the criteria Joe was looking for in a woman, she exceeded it. In fact, long before he learned that there existed the very real possibility that Beth might be able to see her way clear to addressing those ever so unique carnal needs of his, he was well on the way to being quite smitten with her. And, to his delight, if what Beth had been telling his feminine alter ego, Little Ms. Hammerman was on the fast track to becoming as enamored with him as he was with her.
* * *
The mating ritual had begun in earnest. Joe, aware that it would be a grueling and demanding endeavor, also knew that he had no choice in the matter. He was already well on the way to falling head over heels in love with Beth and therefore, fully, if not irrationally, committed to seeing where the relationship would lead.
Time management was the key. Aware that he would be spending a whole lot more of his leisure time as the male he was born to be than he was normally accustom to, Joe also knew that he would still be employing his feminine alter ego to gather intelligence. As unscrupulous and underhanded as it was for him to use such a tactic to optimize his courting techniques, winning Beth's endearing love was far to important to Joe than for him to leave things to chance. While it was true that he ran the risk of her getting really pissed off when he finally got up the gumption to reveal the truth of the matter, it was a risk he was willing to take. Hopefully, if he played his cards right, knowing Beth as he hoped and prayed he did, Joe trusted that Beth would eventually forgive him. Beth, he knew, could be a real firebrand when provoked. And, because of that, Joe was keenly aware of the fact that she might get her dander up and throw a no holds bar hissy-fit when she learned that she had been duped and that the male Joe and the female Jo were one and the same person. However, he truly believe that once the dust had settled, Beth would cut him some slack and try to see things from his point of view.
If the removal of those magical high heels triggered the fluid magical retrofit that would reinstall his manly physicality within the matter of a few minutes, much the same way the donning of the heels turned him into a female, time management would not have been much of a consideration. However, the heels did not work that way. Once the male to female makeover process became a feat accompli, a heel resident magical subroutine kidded in and started logging what Joe, borrowing and bastardizing the scuba diving term residual nitrogen, had come to refer to as residual girl-time. For each unit of time that Joe wore the heels, be that unit of time a minute, an hour, a day, or whatever, he amassed an equivalent amount of time that he would retain his feminine form after he removed them.
And, that made time management a critical concern for Joe in his dealings with Beth. He had to take into account the residual girl-time business or else face the unenviable prospect of being the wrong sex at the wrong time. While he could easily go from being a male to a female in a matter of minutes and accomplish the feat when and where he wished to, the timing of the opposite transition was, for all intent and purposes, preordained. If he wore the heels for an hour and then removed them, Joe would spend a second hour as a female before the sexual retrogression process would kick in and turn him back into the man had been born to be. True, he could always extend his time as Jo by simply re-donning the heels. But, though he could extend his time as a woman, he had yet to find a way to eliminate or reduce the amount of residual girl-time he amassed.
Though the residual girl-time business caused him no end of anguish, careful planning and accurate record keeping was the key to dealing with it.
* * *
Joe's time management balancing act began in earnest on that auspicious Saturday afternoon, shortly after Beth confessed to not only having been involved in a month long lesbian tryst, but to also being sexual attracted to the young woman she wrongfully assumed to be Joe's sister.
Though Jo had planned on spending the weekend as a female, much the way she usually did, Beth's revelations caused her to reevaluate her plans. Knowing that she had to divest herself the magical heels so as to be able to call Beth before eleven o'clock that evening as the male Joe and in doing so, hopefully make arrangements to spend Sunday doing something or other together, Jo had come up with a ploy. Saying that she had to get out of the heels she was wearing A.S.A.P., Jo, with Beth in tow, entered a shoe store at the mall and quickly purchased a replacement set of pumps to wear. Then, acting on Beth's suggestion, they ate diner out together at a moderately priced seafood restaurant. After that, owing to the fact that Beth had some household chores to attend to, plus some papers to grade, the two young women bid one another goodbye and parted coming.
An ecstatically happy Jo arrived home somewhere around six thirty. Returning the Saturn that had once belonged to her dear departed mother to the detached garage, Jo, via the A-frame's mudroom, entered her house and promptly began to love-up her two cats, Tom and the every so precious voyeur Jeri. Then, with those two felines of hers following in her wake, Jo, discarding her pocketbook and jacket along the way, made for the loft bedroom she reserved for the exclusive use of her feminine alter ego.
A quick check of her femininely downsized and reconfigured diver's watch informed Jo that she had a good three hours to kill before she reverted to being a male again. Feeling that there was a good chance that Beth might call her sometime during the course of the evening, Jo figured that if she was going to attend to those crass and craven carnal needs of hers, she had best get to it and get it over with.
Knowing that it would extend her residual girl time by no more than a couple of minutes, Jo stepped out of the navy blue pumps she had purchased that afternoon and back into those magical stiletto heels of hers.
"Alright, guys!" Jo quipped, as she capriciously addressed her two cats. "What do you think? French maid? Playboy Bunny? Cheerleader? Ballerina? Harem girl? Hooker? Superheroine? You know, something in the order of Supergirl? Or, perhaps Wonder Woman? Or, should I go with something a little more creative? A little more exotic? A little more erotic?
"I mean, I could always go with some sort of skimpy fantasy number! You know, that's basically a thong bikini with a lot of leather straps, chain mail, armbands and the damn near obligatory thigh-high, stiletto heel boots!
"Or," Jo said, momentarily closing her eyes, "I could go with something like this!
"Holy shit!" Jo giddily exclaimed in both shock and amazement as she incredulously beheld herself in the mirror
* * *
The heels, as Joe had come to learn during his initial days of experimentation, not only changed him into an atomically correct member of the opposite sex, but they also worked their magic on any apparel he might be wearing. In an instant, a pair of scruffy denim jeans could become the flowing skirt portion of a glamorous and ever so fetching evening gown. Likewise, a pair of baggy boxer shorts and T-shirt could and, usually did, end up transmogrified into a slinky satin bikini brief and matching bra combo. While socks corresponding ended up becoming some sort of nylon hosiery.
And, as Jo was quick to realize, she wasn't locked into any one particular ensemble the heels, acting on their own volition, fitted her out with. Should Jo elect to do so, she could change whatever she was wearing into anything she wished to be wearing in the literal blink of an eye. All that was required of her was to form a mental image of the particular garment or garments she desired to be wearing; close her eyes and - Whalla! - she was so attired.
In other words, Jo found that the permutations for self-targeted mind-candy were pretty much boundless.
Then, about a month or so after Joe had begun getting in touch with his feminine side, quite by accident, he had come upon the mind-blowing realization that he could become almost any woman he wished to be. The only criteria that the heels strictly enforced was that the woman he became had to be of the drop dead gorgeous, balls to the walls beautiful variety.
It happened innocently enough one evening when Jo was watching a television show that was filmed in Tahiti. For some reason or another, Jo, who was expertly keeping herself simmering on the luxurious edge of full-blown arousal, began to speculate how she might look decked out in a tight fitting sarong. So anyhow, one thing lead to another and during a commercial break, Jo gets up; goes into her bathroom; closes her eyes and forms a mental picture of herself wearing a flower print sarong. Then, having entertained the image for a second or so, she pops open her eyes to find that while she is wearing the sarong she had envisioned herself adorned in, she is no longer a Caucasian. Rather, she finds that those magical high heels of hers have turned her into an almond eyed young beauty of Polynesian ancestry.
Further experiments reveal the fact that Jo cannot not only become a member of any ethnic group she wishes, but that she can become a composite blend of a several different ethnic groups should she so choose. She can be tall or short. Young or old. Fair skinned or dark skinned. Big boned or petite. Her hair can be long or short. Kinky or curly. Or, should she wish it so, as straight as the day is long. The only criterion that the heels rigidly enforce is that no matter what kind of woman Jo wishes to be, she will indeed be beautiful.
Then, on the heels of that discovery, Jo came to find that she could fine-tune that rather unique ability of hers a step further. While flipping through the pages of a recently purchased Playboy Magazine one evening, Jo came upon a picture expose of the late great Marilyn Monroe which featured the movie star's ever so sensual encounter with a gust of air explosively ventilating upward through a sidewalk grate. Curious as to how she might looking decked out in an exact duplicate of the delightfully diaphanous halter-top summer dress that Marilyn was wearing, Jo decided that there was no time like the present to find out. A second after closing her eyes, Jo opens them to find herself not only dressed exactly liked Marilyn Monroe was dressed, but looking exactly like Marilyn Monroe did when that infamous picture was captured for posterity.
Needless to say, once Joe came to the realization that he could be any woman he desired to be, as long as the woman he wanted to be fit the criteria of being beautiful, he took full advantage of the situation. However, Joe found over the long haul that the woman he enjoyed been most was none other than the one who had been born, bred and so loving sculptured within the crucible of that lecherously leaning male libido of his.
In other words, the woman that Joe enjoyed being most was Jo. She was everything he could wish for in a woman and then some. In his mind, she was female perfection personified. She was so perfect that she pulled at his heartstrings, condemning him to an unrequited life of narcissism carried to the nth degree.
* * *
"This is incredible!" Jo squealed in both surprise and alarm. "Incredible! Crazy! And, really, really weird!"
But as crazy and weird as it was, the fact that Jo stood there incredulously gawking at none other than the image of Beth Hammerman, brazenly resplendent in an erotically bastardized version of a sinfully scintillating white wedding ensemble, unnerved her to no end.
"Damn, girl!" a severely shaken and flabbergasted Jo fumed as she began to crassly grope and fondled herself. "You've really got it bad for her don't you?"
Then, thinking better of herself, Jo abruptly stopped playing a game of grab-ass with herself.
"This just isn't right! I don't know how on earth I ended up with Beth's body, but I think I better get back to being me before things really get out of hand..."
Jo, feeling as if she had just done something icky and unsightly, closed her eyes and, going with the first thing that came to mind, visualized herself seductively packaged within what was for her the generic shimmering black mesh weave of a crotchless nylon-lycra catsuit. Next, aware that she didn't want to accrue any more residual girl time than was absolutely necessary, Jo nimbly stepped out of those magical heels of hers and lovingly picked them up and placed them on the bureau.
"Sorry, guys!" Jo said, once again addressing her two cats as she parked that succulent rump of hers down upon the bed's glistening bronze hued satin comforter. "Don't mean to disturb the two of you! But, your mom's got another little pussy that is badly in need of some much needed lovin' up!"
* * *
As expected, Beth called shortly after eight, wishing to talk to Jo about Joe.
Aware that she had a good two hours to go before the residual girl-time ran its' course and she began the regression phase that would restore her manhood, Jo nevertheless continually kept herself appraised of the time while she was on the phone with Beth. Then, providing herself with a good fifteen minute safety margin, Jo, saying that she was sorry that had to do so, informed Beth that she had an urgent need to relieve herself and so, concluded the call with hasty, "Goodnight and call me tomorrow."
Jo, upon hanging up the phone, quickly climbed out of the brazen hussy-like catsuit she was wearing and scampered into the bathroom. There, on the brink of a near disaster, she promptly parked that delectable tush of hers on the toilet seat and proceeded on to relax those over-taxed hold-it-in muscles of her feminine form. Aware that the change would be upon her shortly, Jo opted for a short satin bathrobe over all the hassles she would have to endure in order to clamor back into that ever so slinky catsuit she had been wearing. Besides, Jo was well aware of the fact that the sexy catsuit would soon be undergoing its' own rather unique female to male makeover.
Though she was rarely awake when the restoration process reinstalled her masculinity, Jo knew that that her female to male transsexualizations nevertheless engendered the same sort of erotic rush that heralded her male to female makeovers. Given the fact that she was so tuckered-out from all the physical exertions involved in having at herself during her stints as a multi-orgasmic female, Jo was usually in the arms of a deep and untroubled sleep when the change back to maleness came upon her. And, due to that, the corresponding wet dreams that accompanied the event generally resulting in a nocturnal emission that was more akin to a leak than an actual spurt.
Generally, during those rare times when she was awake for the fluid transition back into manhood, Jo would address the horniness that accompanied the reacquisition of his trusty old Johnson Arm by taking the matter in hand, heading into the bathroom and there, masturbate his ass off. However, now that Beth had arrived on the scene with the extended offer for him to avail himself of that ever so nice and nifty sperm repository of hers, Joe found that he was more than a little reluctant to go that route. Though he realized that he was probably being swayed by a silly superstition, Joe nonetheless thought it prudent for him to forestall his immediate gratification as a sure fire means to heighten his anticipation quotient for engaging in the real deal with a bona fide member of the opposite sex.
"Look, guys!" Jo called out to her cats. "The two of you can stay up here if you want to!
"As for me, I'm going to go downstairs and take a shower..."
* * *
Entering the lower level's bathroom, Jo turned on the shower's hot water tap and then, took off the satin bathrobe she was wearing and hung it on an available hook. Moderating the temperature with the addition of some cold water, Jo, aware that the transsexual process was imminent, stepped into the shower enclosure and, after a thorough soaking, began to shampoo that ever so lovely long blonde hair of hers.
Having completed a thorough rinse, Jo reached for the conditioner only to realize the hand that grasp the plastic bottle was no longer the well manicured, long nailed and dexterously nimble hand of a young woman's. Rather, it was the slightly callused, work scared mitt of a man who was not afraid of getting his hands dirty doing manual labor. Then, aware that her hair had also reverted to both its manly coloration and length, Jo quickly recalculated the amount of conditioner required and so, ended up applying only about a quarter of what she would have used but a moment or so before.
Several minutes later, as she felt the nub of her clitoris begin to substantially elongate into something that while not a penis, was well on the way to becoming one, Jo reached over and prudently turned off the hot water.
The cold water gushing out of the showerhead and down over his manly physique, while no were near a cruel-all, helped considerably to offset the surging horniness that impacted heavily on Joe's rather healthy male libido. Half tempted to say, "The hell with it!" and go for the gusto, Joe, telling himself that Beth Hammerman was well worth the wait, managed to contain himself and there by, stay his hand
A few minutes later, having toweled himself off, Joe entered his bedroom across the hall and donned a pair of sweatpants and a fresh T-shirt. Once dressed, Joe exited his bedroom and proceeded down the A-frame's central hallway towards the back of the house and the kitchen. Though he would have preferred a tumbler of his favorite alcoholic beverage, the bourbon liqueur Jeremiah Weed, Joe, knowing that it would not be prudent for him to partake of anything that might lower his inhibitions, opted for a can of Diet Coke instead. Returning to the spacious living room, Joe sat down in his lounge chair; kicked back and then, having marshaled his thoughts; reached over; picked up the phone and dialed Beth Hammerman's number.
As expected, Beth was delighted to hear from him. She was also eager to agree to spending all day Sunday with him, informing him that after their day at the zoo together, that instead of the two of them going out to eat somewhere, she wanted to fix him a home cocked meal at her place. Then, having gotten past the primary reason for Joe's call, the two of them continued on with their conversation until the wee hours of the morning.
* * *
Sunday was all Joe could have wished for and more. He picked Beth up a little after nine and took her out to breakfast. After that, it was off to the zoo and a whole afternoon of handholding, pleasant conversation, endearing dewy-eyed looks and the occasional kiss that became more, more impassioned with each hour of that delightful afternoon's passage.
Arriving at Beth's apartment, she freely admitted that, due to her working girl status as a grade school teacher, she felt confident preparing only a limited cuisine compared to that of her mother's. Joe however, honestly felt that the dinner she prepared for him that evening was absolutely superb and told her as much.
After dinner, unable to contain herself a moment longer, Beth, assuming the role of a wanton hussy in heat, pretty much jumped Joe's bones. Planting an impassioned lip-lock on him that was clearly calculated to ignite the fires of his ardor, Beth, saying they would regrettably have to make an early night of it, brashly continued on to suggest that the two of them retire to the comfort of her bedroom. Joe, who wanted nothing more at the moment then to do just that, offered no resistance whatsoever to Beth's timely suggestion.
Driven by the primordial passion that pretty much dominated the moment, Joe found himself unable to bring into play even a small portion of the various loving making techniques that comprised that vast artistic arsenal of his. Beth, as he soon discovered, was both primed and ready to receive his manhood, to the point where she damn near demanded its' immediate insertion. Unable to contain himself, Joe, spurred on my Beth's insistent urgings, dutifully complied.
Then, once the two of them had sufficiently recuperated from that furiously energetic slam, bamb, thank you ma'am like rutting session, Joe, in an attempt to returned favor for favor, starting with a gently delivered kiss to those inviting lips of Beth's, began anew. Dipping into that vast arsenal of deft handed and talented tongue titillation techniques of his, Joe set out to win Beth's heart by convincing her of the fact that no man had, or ever would, be able to satisfy those carnal needs hers the way he could.
If things worked out the way he hoped and prayed they would, Beth would one day turn the tables on him by addressing the carnal cravings of his feminine alter ego, there by, providing him with irrefutable proof that she was the only woman he would ever need or want.
* * *
Long ago, even before he had come into possession of those magical high heels of his, Joe had adopted three specific criteria that he required in the woman he hoped to enter into a life long commitment with. First, the woman he married had to be his best friend, as he had to be hers. They had to enjoy spending quality time together. They had to be able to converse, to be able to bare their souls and talk about intimate things, things so intimately personal that they felt comfortable sharing only with one another. Secondly, since so many marriages had been doomed to failure due to financial problems, the woman he married would have to function as his business partner. A household was a business with both debit and credit sheets and because of that, it had to be run like the business venture it was. Money would only stretched so far and due to that ever so troublesome truism, hard decisions had to be mutually arrived at as to where and when that hard-earned income of theirs would be allocated. And thirdly, the woman Joe married had to be this lover.
Sex, as wonderful as it was, was only a small, to be almost infinitesimal, aspect of what a marriage was all about. Though by far the least important of Joe's three requirements for marriage, sex was akin to the proverbial icing on the cake, in that it was the bonding agent that bound the two parts of the one whole together before the eyes of God and man.
Then, with the acquisition of the heels, Joe found that due to his hopeless addiction to spending a fair amount of his leisure time as an anatomically correct member of the fairer sex himself, he was forced by necessity to add a fourth requirement to that short list of his. That's to say that the woman Joe married had to one: accept that rather unusual proclivity of his for spending a fair amount of time as a female; and two: be able to function as Joe's bisexual lover in order to address those bipolar carnal needs of his.
* * *
Though Beth was noticeable reluctant to bid him goodnight, she didn't try to make Joe feel the least little bit guilty when he informed her shortly after eight that evening that while he hated to do so, he'd best be getting home. All she demanded of him was that he call her as soon as he got home in order to let her know that he had arrived safely.
Joe was more than happy to oblige. He was even happier to accept Beth's invitation to have dinner at her place on Monday after he got off from work.
Their phone conversation continued on for a good part of an hour once the preliminaries had been addressed. Then, as soon as he hung up the phone, Joe, wishing to build up an hour or so of residual girl-time before he called it a night, beat feet for the loft bedroom and those magical stiletto heels of his. Fifteen minutes later, decked out in a torso hugging, cleavage showcasing liquid silver club dress, Jo parked that succulent derriere of hers down in her favorite lounge chair. Having done so, she reached over and locating the remote, began to surf through the channels in hopes of finding something of interest to watch for the next hour or so. A moment later, Jeri, Jo's precocious and extremely mischievous tortoise shell, climbed up in her lap and pretty much demanded some attention. Five minutes later, Tom, Jo's gray tabby, not to be left out the equation, put in an appearance.
* * *
Monday evening was pretty much a repeat performance of Sunday evening. Joe left work and, after a quick stop to pick up a bottle of burgundy, drove straight over to Beth's apartment. They ate and immediately afterwards, retired to Beth's bedroom to engage in some very pleasurable sexual hanky-panky.
Arriving home, Joe called Beth to let her know he had made it back to his place without mishap. Then, saying that he was loathed to have to do so, Joe using the excuse that he had to attend to a few things that really needed attending to, brought the call to an early termination. Fifteen minutes later, dressed in a pair of electric blue nylon-lycra leggings and a sky blue satin sleep-shirt, Jo called Beth to confirm their plans for the following evening. Then, having been informed by Beth that she had seen that 'brother' of hers on both Sunday and earlier that very evening, Jo, playing the part of the ever so curious girlfriend confident, began to make the expected inquires.
"So, tell me! Do you think he might be a keeper?" Jo coyly asked as she unconsciously began to teasingly run the well-manicured nails of her right hand along the erogenous zone of her Lycra encased inner left thigh.
"Oh, yeah! I most sincerely hope so..." Beth, sounding much like an adolescent girl might, giddily replied.
* * *
As one might expect, owing to the fact that he didn't want to lose or otherwise damage those wonderful transsexualizing high heels of his, Joe was a little paranoid whenever venturing out of the house wearing them. However, as paranoid as he was about wearing them out in public, he was even more so when the situation called for him to take the heels along with him when he was not wearing them.
In an effort to offset that overwhelming sense of paranoia of his, Joe took great pains to guard against the possibility of his losing the heels to theft or other nefarious means.
That Tuesday morning, though it gave him a bad case of the heebie-jeebies to do so, Joe took the heels and placed them within the foam-lined confines of a special tool box he used whenever he needed to transport the pumps to another location. Next, he secured the toolbox with a combination lock. Then, with the toolbox in one hand and a gym bag containing a set of his feminine alter ego's exercise togs in the other, Joe stopped in the kitchen just long enough to admonishment those two cats of his to please try and behave themselves. Having done so, he exited the A-frame via the mudroom and headed out to the garage. There, he placed both his gym bag and the toolbox in the trunk of his mother's Saturn.
After work, Joe drove the Saturn a few blocks to a secluded section of a near by shopping center's parking lot. There, having made quick work of retrieving them from the trunk; Joe donned those magical high heels of his. Then, though he would be a little scrunched up for the next few minutes, Joe prudently moved his seat forward a notch so as to better accommodate the feminine physique he was in the process of being fitted out with.
Twenty five minutes later, a casually attired Jo turned onto the Brentwood Mall's encircling access road, only to look in her rearview mirror and take note of the fact that Beth had turned in two cars behind her. Parking their cars next to one another, the two greeted each other with an endearing hug and briskly headed across the parking lot towards the food court's entrance way
"So, tell me!" Jo said as she nonchalantly went about the mundane task of trying to impale a few pieces of lettuces on the prongs of a cheap and flimsily made plastic fork. "When are you and Joe getting together again?"
"Tomorrow!" Beth returned brightly. "He's coming over for dinner."
"Oh! He is, is he?
"You better watch it, girl!" Jo teasingly admonished. "Before you know it, you'll have him spoiled! You know, to the point where he starts expecting it!
"I mean, you do know that they - Whomever in the hell they happen to be! - are all wrong!"
"All wrong about what?" a confused Beth returned quizzically.
"About how the way to a man's heart is through his stomach! You, know, when it's obvious that the way to a man's heart is through that ugly, unsightly and grossly gnarled-up thingie of his!"
* * *
In an effort to accrue as much residual girl-time as possible before divesting herself of the heels in order to don her exercise togs, Jo tarried at the mall just long enough to ensure that the two of them arrived fashionable late for their aerobics class. Then, as soon their instructor bid them a goodnight, Jo, knowing that she was cutting it close, urged Beth to, "Get that tush of hers in gear and get a move on it!"
A short time later, as the two of them sat in a booth of a Friendlies Ice Cream Parlor that was strategically situated just across the street from the heath club, Jo casually said, "So, I take it that you think that Joe just might be your Mr. Right?"
"Yes!" Beth beamed brightly.
"I mean to tell you, Jo! That brother of yours is everything I've ever wanted in a man and then some!
"Just think! If things keep going like they are you and I might just end up becoming sister-in-laws!
"In fact, if things do work out - You know, and that brother of yours ends up asking me to marry him one of these days! - would you please consent to being my maid of honor..."
* * *
Wednesday was pretty much a carbon copy of Monday for Joe. And, by the same token, Thursday's daily regimentation was almost a mirror's image of Tuesday, in that Joe spent the day as a man and, due to attending another aerobics class, he spent the evening operating as his feminine alter ego, Jo.
* * *
Joe, on Beth's urging, spent the weekend at her place.
Right after work, Joe drove to Beth's apartment. From there, the two of them went to a fast food restaurant for dinner. After that, they attended to Beth's weekly grocery shopping. Saturday, they got up early and drove into Philly where the two of them spent a very enjoyable day together exploring the exhibits at the Franklin Institute. Sunday, given that it looked to be one of those gray, drizzly days, on Beth's suggestion, the two of them decide to rent a couple of movies and spend a lazy, though nonetheless extremely enjoyable day lounging around Beth's apartment.
* * *
The following week was damn near a carbon copy of the week that preceded it save that Joe threw caution to the wind and invited Beth to spend the weekend at his place. Beth, sensing that this was a major step in their budding relationship, eagerly accepted.
"So how's Jo feel about all of this?" Beth questioned, as Joe started up the lane that lead up to the rustically palatial A-frame he had spent a little over a year and a half helping his father build. "You know, about me and my spending the weekend here with you?"
"Oh, she's fine with it!" Joe returned casually as he maneuvered the Cherokee through a hard right hand turn and onto yet another of the several switchbacks that the lane employed to snake its' way up the wooded hillside. "Fact is: she thinks it's great that the two of us have hit it off so well! You know, as in she's been very supportive..."
"Yes! I whole heartily agree with you! She has been very supportive..."
"She did tell you that she probably wouldn't be home this weekend?"
"Yes! Yes, she did at that!
"In fact, she told me last night that she had plans on heading down to Washington for the weekend. She said something or other about getting together with a couple of the girls she went to college with. You know, for some type of hastily arranged reunion or something..."
"Joe..." Beth tentatively intoned as they rounded yet another sharp bend in the graveled-over dirt road.
"Yes." Joe encouraged, acknowledging the fact that he was receptive.
"Even though Jo's not home, do you think it would be okay for you to let me see her room? You know, because I'm kind of curious to see what it looks like."
"Well, since it was going to be part of the grand tour anyhow, I don't see why not!
"Besides, Jo said that since she wasn't going to be home, we could use her bedroom this weekend instead of mine. You know, because her bed is a king. Where as, mine is just a queen "
* * *
"This is really, really nice! And, the view is absolutely fantastic!" Beth proclaimed, having looked about the loft bedroom "Jo must love it!"
"Oh! I can assure you she does! She loves it a lot!"
"And, I take it, this use to be your parents' bedroom?"
"Yes! Yes, it was.
"Technically, I guess this should be my bedroom. You know, since the house is in my name. But, since the downstairs one suits me just fine, I just figured that I'd let Jo use this one for the time being."
"And, what happens to Jo if, shall we say, you get married or decide to sell the house or something?"
"Well," Joe began thoughtfully, "in that event, I guess she'll just have to make some other arrangements..."
"So," Joe asked a few minutes later as he bent to the task of building a fire, "have you decided?"
"Decided what?"
"Decided if you want to use my room or Jo's room?"
"Well, as tempted as I am to use Jo's bedroom, I think it best if we use yours.
"Or," she teased, "we could sleep right here in front of the fireplace....
"I mean, while I might not have gotten around to telling you about this, you ought to know that one of my favorite fantasies takes place in a rustic cabin - You know, that's looks a lot like this one. - on a bearskin rug, that's situated right in front of a roaring fire.
"Damn!" Joe teased back. "And, here I just took my bearskin rug to the taxidermist to have it dry cleaned!"
* * *
It was a great weekend for the two of them. Joe, after a brunch that Saturday, took Beth to see a secluded waterfall that was just a hop, skip and jump up the road from his place. But, other then that, they basically spent the weekend lounging around Joe's A-frame, engaging in lots and lots of impassioned sexual romps with one another.
Sunday evening, having taken Beth back to her place, Joe returned home and, knowing that it would be S.O.P. (Standard Operating Procedure) for him to do so from then on out, went through the hassle of switching vehicles. Joe, aware that he would be turning into his feminine alter ego right after he let Beth know that he had arrived home safely, moved the Saturn out of the garage and onto the parking pad. Then, switching vehicles, he prudently backed his trusty Jeep Cherokee into the outbuilding that pulled triple duty as a combination garage, storeroom and workshop.
Given the distance, there was not much chance of Beth turning up unexpectedly on his doorstep one day for a surprise visit. However, should that likelihood ever occur, Joe wanted to be prepared. That meant that the car parked outside on the pad should correspond with whatever sexual identity that Joe was operating under at any given moment in time. While Joe felt that he would probably be able to furnish a reasonable explanation as to why Jo had his car and he had hers should the need arise for him to have to do so, he also knew that it was not wise to tempt Providence.
Ten minutes later, having made the obligatory call to inform Beth that he had arrived home without incident, Joe headed for the loft bedroom and those magical high heels of his. Forty five minutes after that, Jo, having engaged in a frantic game of tweak and swirl with all those nifty erogenous zones of hers, picked up the phone and called Beth.
"Did you have a nice weekend?"
Beth verified the fact that she had, prompting Jo to continue on to ask, "So, what'ya think of the house?"
Beth told Jo that she absolutely loved the house, pointing out the fact that she thought Jo's bedroom and adjoining bathroom were its' crowning glory.
"Well," Jo said cheerfully, "if things keep progressing the way they seem to be - Before you know it, girl! - you'll be moving in and I'll be looking for other accommodations."
"Oh, Jo!" Beth countered with a complaint. "I don't want to do that to you..."
Ten minutes later, having hashed out various living arrangement options, Jo proceeded on to another subject as she asked, "Did the cats cause you any problems?"
"No..." Jo detected a sense of hesitation in Beth's voice. "Not really!
"I mean, since I guess you could say that I'm a cat person to begin with, I enjoyed being around them. And, I think Tom kind of took a real shine to me. You know, because every time I sat down somewhere, within a minute or two, he would plop himself down in my lap; curl up and, after he got some attention, go to right sleep.
"Okay! So, it would appear that you and Tom hit it off! So, what you think about our little voyeur, Jeri?" Jo prompted, knowing that Beth had more to say on the matter.
"She's going to take some real getting use to!
"I mean, I open my eyes - You know, after that brother of yours has turned me into a first class pillow eater - and Jeri's sitting there! Inches away from my face! Staring down at me! You know, like one of those pompous assed judges at an Olympic diving competition! Ready to give me a grade me for my performance! You know, by holding up those numbered scoring placards the way they do!
"Unnerving, isn't it? You know, the way she likes to watch!"
"You mean to tell me she watches you?"
"Like a hawk!
"Take it from me, Beth! While Tom could care less, our little Jeri doesn't miss a trick! Especially so when it comes to something involving any kind of sexual act!"
* * *
Those first two weeks pretty much established the pattern for the weeks that followed; save that Joe and Beth began using Joe's home exclusively as more or less a base-camp for their weekends together. Needless to say, given that Joe endeavored to sandwich in as much girl-time as he could manage whenever and wherever possible, he sometimes felt as if he didn't know whether he was coming or going. Then, factoring into the whole equation, was Beth's severely upgrade sexual appetite. Joe, as a direct result of his mastery of the various lovemaking techniques, had turned Beth into a veritable nymphomaniac. She wanted him to make love to her at the proverbial drop of a hat and, Joe, due to the fact that he found himself enjoying sex as a man more than he had in years, was not about to deny her.
As one might expect, the balancing act that Joe was engaged in required clear thought and a level head. That said: as time wore on, Joe began to become increasingly fatigued. And, as his fatigue mounted, Joe 's mental facilities began to deteriorate to a point that threatened to impede on his judgement.
One evening, after a particular grueling aerobics class, Jo's growing sense of fatigue came close to throwing a monkey wrench into the intimate relationship that her male alter ego had established Beth.
Riding high on her good fortune of hooking up with Joe, Beth, having just taken a sip of her coffee, giddily beamed, "Oh, Jo! I can't begin to tell you how happy I am!
"Your brother's wonderful! And, the only thing that would make me happier then I am now is for you to find yourself somebody as nice as I have!"
Not thinking of the ramifications of what she was saying, an extremely tuckered out Jo, in a knee jerk reaction born out of the depths of her sexual frustration, bitterly replied, "I did!"
Beth, unaware of the implications contained in those two words of Jo's, innocently countered. "You did?"
"Yes! Yes, damn it to all hell and back! I did!
"As fate would have it, I actually went and found the perfect woman for me!
"Then, what did I do? I played Little Miss Matchmaker and set her up with a blind date!"
"Oh, Jo!" Beth emotionally exclaimed, as she reached across the table and took Jo's hands in hers. "This is awful! I didn't know! I'm so, so sorry...
"I mean, I knew you were sexually attracted to me! You know, pretty much the same way I am to you! But, I never - Ever! - suspected that you had those kinds of feelings for me!
"I mean, this has to be terrible for you! You know, to have to listen to me go on and on and on about my good fortune and how happy I am..."
"Stop it, Beth!" Jo snapped harshly. "Please! Do us both a favor and stop berating yourself about this!
"Believe me! You're doing the right thing!
"Remember! I'm the lesbian! Not you!
"Okay! So, you had a lesbian fling! And, you even enjoyed it!
"But, even though you did - You know, get it on with another woman! - and, while that might just qualify as being a heterosexual woman with bisexual tendencies, the truth of the matter is: you prefer men! You know, over women!
"So, I don't want you to worry your fool head off about me!
"I'm a big girl! I'm fully capable of taking care of myself!
"Besides, though you might not think so, I want you to marry Joe as much - Maybe even more! - than you do!
"And, I promise you! If - No! Let's make that when! - you do marry Joe, I guarantee that you'll make me the happiest woman there ever was!"
Tales of an Amateur Gynecologist will continue in TAG 5 - CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL
© 2000
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