{ASSM}Sucker by Vickie Tern (complete) TG Femdom Wife F/M M/M 

The following story contains explicit descriptions of sexual 
behavior, several kinds.  It should not be read by those too 
young to do so lawfully or by others who do not enjoy such stories.
The young don't listen, the others sometimes need to be reminded
who they are.

                           Sucker
                       by Vickie Tern

I travel a lot on business, and I'm almost always faithful to my
wife the whole time I'm away.  I mean, there are rules, and I try
to keep to them.  This particular time I was away on an intensive
three week sales trip, and I'd pretty much struck out, so I was
incredibly horny when it ended, real eager to get home and bed
down.  So my last night out I phoned her and told her how much I
missed her, and I asked her to rent us a porno tape we could watch
together when I got back, "to help establish the right mood" I told
her.  As I always do.

Usually she'd respond "Do we have to?"  and I'd answer, "A little
fantasy adds spice and desire, honey!  You like soft music and
candles, and I can understand that.  I happen to like seeing other
people get it on!  Same thing!"  She'd then usually tell me that
they are not at all the same thing, that a dirty movie doesn't in
any way make for a romantic evening.  But she'd do it if I
insisted.  Reluctantly.    

This time when I asked there was merely a long silence and then she
said, "Of course!  That's just the thing!  Have a safe trip home,
honey!"  

Finally she's coming around, I thought.  

I did need the spice.  Debbie's as sexy-looking as they come, the
kind of woman men stop and stare at when they see her on the
street.  I don't know how I ever sweet-talked her into marrying me. 
Maybe persistence.  I never quit asking, and when she finally said
'Yes!' no one could have been happier.  But our sex turned out to
be as vanilla as it gets.  The missionary way only, no others need
apply.  Straight fucking with me on top.  At most.  Just do it, and
sometimes I'd bring her off and sometimes I couldn't, and sometimes
she seemed to want it and sometimes she seemed to want me to just
get it over with.  And often she didn't seem to care one way or the
other.  She'd been carefully brought up to believe sex was
unseemly, I suppose.  She never did want to talk about it.

I mean, Debbie did finally decide to spread her legs under me when
I asked her to, so I could get into her, just barely.  But she
never splayed them way out to let me get way into her as far as I
could penetrate, not that far but far enough I guess, and she never
wrapped them around me to pull me deeper.  And not even once did
she ever feel some irresistible urge to kiss me while I was in her. 
Not even those few times when she seemed to be having an orgasm, or
at least seemed more than usually interested in my moves on top of
her.  

I'd asked her about that, how come she rarely even kissed me when
we were having sex, why she rarely seemed to get into what we were
doing.  She'd simply replied, "Sex is what two people want, honey. 
What you do just doesn't seem sexy to me."  For Debbie, that was
that.  Sex isn't sexy?  I'd ask her what she did want, but she'd
never answer that either.  Too embarrassed maybe, or too annoyed
that I had to ask, thinking maybe that I should know the answer
intuitively.  Or, maybe her silence was her answer, that what she
wanted was nothing.  She'd rather we just cuddled?  Who could tell?

So I'd park my dick elsewhere now and then, reluctantly, but it was
always nice to feel appreciated.  Inside secretaries or clients in
the companies I'd visit on the road, usually when there was also
some business advantage.  Only once with a woman near where we
lived, Marcie, and then only because she came on to me first, and
she lived way across town, and she was married and loved her
husband Gabriel and would never leave him, she said, so there
couldn't be any complications.  It turned out he was so considerate
and gentle and wimpy with her that now and then she felt she had
to fuck a real man.  I obliged for a week, and then quit when she
called a halt.  I worried Debbie might find out, but she didn't. 
No big deal.  

But you can understand why I'd taken to watching blue movies with
Debbie for arousal, using the other couples' fucking as a warmup. 
I'd always ask Debbie to watch with me -- I never did give up
hoping she'd get curious about some of the things they did in those
movies.  She was fascinated by all that XXX coupling when we first
started out.  In fact she couldn't take her eyes off the screen. 
She'd stare at it and mutter "Unbelievable!" and "O my God, look
what they're doing now!" over and over.  But the novelty wore off,
and after a while she just sat there with her eyes a little glazed,
patient but glancing at her watch now and then.  I'd ask her often
if she'd want to try one of the positions we'd just seen, whatever
the couple on the tape did.  Not a word.  She'd just look at me
inexpressively for a moment, then look away again.  Not even sadly.

This particular Friday evening I arrived home, and we had our
romantic candlelight dinner, and then we each settled into our soft
chairs in the game room and I put on the tape she'd gotten for us
to watch.  

Bad move right off!  She'd picked it, but apparently the way she
sometimes buys groceries, looking across the aisle for the next
item instead of checking the shelf and then reading the label to be
sure she was holding whatever it was she'd reached for.  Or maybe
she'd grabbed the first thing closest on the "adults only" shelf,
with eyes averted.  Because the subject was, for Debbie, absolutely
hopeless.  "Oral Sex for Women."  A movie showing how girls can use
their mouths to make their partners happy.  How a girl can go down
on a guy and love it.  How to suck cock.

Oral sex was no way Debbie's thing!  Way too big a step for her! 
A step in the right direction, sure, everything I'd wish for, I
loved the feel of a girl's warm, wet lips nursing on my dick.  But
Debbie never went down on me, and never wanted me to go down on
her.  Even when we were engaged and I'd wanted into her pants the
worst way, any which way, and she wanted us both to wait till we
were married, because our relationship was something special, even
then when I was desperate to make out with her and my balls ached,
the most she'd ever do for me was a hand job.  "Your thing in my
mouth just doesn't appeal," was her only explanation.  

I still had no idea how my thing in her mouth might feel.  Guys
would tell me what their girlfriends and wives did for them, and
I'd try not to look envious.  I often asked Debbie if she'd changed
her mind.  She'd just look at me silently as usual, then look away
as usual.  Sometimes in bed with her I'd just happen to end up in
a position where my prick was right next to her face and her pussy
next to my face.  But even then, nothing.  When I leaned forward to
smell that fermy smell and kiss her pussy and then try to move
deeper, maybe really go down on her for once, "I'm not clean," was
all she'd say, and she'd wriggle out of reach.  Even just after
she'd just soaked in her bath, and her skin was soft and moist and
smelled of that wonderful flowery bath oil she uses!

Well, the girl in this particular blue movie Debbie'd picked out
had no such problem!  Her guy's thing really must have tasted
great!  It hardly ever left her mouth.  For her, a cock in the
mouth was way better than two in the bush -- licking one was tastier
than a lollipop or a fast-melting ice cream cone.  

As the tape began, we saw first what looked like one of those
gorgeous weather girls you always see on the news, those babes who
stand in front of different maps and charts and stare out at you
with huge dark eyes and advise you to stay indoors on rainy days to
avoid getting wet.  And you think, "Whatever you say, honey! 
Anything!"  This girl sat at a desk, and her short dark hair
brushed her ears as she shook her head earnestly, trying to be
sincerely helpful.  She explained that there are many things a girl
can do for the boy she's with, if he's attractive, or if his cock
is attractive, especially if she's practicing safe sex and not
putting out, or if she's having her monthlies.  "Here's Stacy to
show you," she said. 

The scene cut to Stacy, an even more gorgeous girl with plump,
pouty red lips a lot like Debbie's.  She was wearing a frivolous
lacy babydoll that didn't quite cover her pale blonde mound or the
stunning globes of her ass.  It hung from huge tits projecting way
ahead of her.  She must have trimmed her pussy hair -- it looked
half-naked, and I could see clearly where her slit began and then
disappeared between her legs.  As she walked down some hallway
toward the camera, with each step she rocked her hips up to give me
a better view.  I began to get stiff immediately!  

She entered a bedroom, and there on the bed was some guy supposed
to be asleep on his back, sheets and blankets tossed to one side,
cock and balls out there for all to see.  An impressive package, I
had to admit.  Stacy smiled slyly as she looked it over, and she
licked her lips while the first girl's voice continued on the sound
track "Is he getting too eager, but you want to avoid getting
pregnant?  Or you just can't help yourself, you have to go down on
him?  Try this!  A warning, though.  Don't do this too often or
he'll never be able to get hard enough for regular sex.  He won't
be able to penetrate you.  He won't mind one bit, but you might!" 

The blonde approached this guy from the foot of the bed and crept
up between his sprawled legs and lay down between them, then
stuffed the whole of his soft penis into her mouth.  He opened his
eyes, then closed them again and threw his head back.  He was gone! 

My boner got so hard it began to hurt!

I glanced over at Debbie.  She was watching carefully, I suppose
only just then realizing that she'd chosen the wrong tape, that it
would only give me those same old ideas again.  Which is what it
did!  I was thinking maybe this one would interest her in one of
the things couples can do for each other, for once.  But I wasn't
hopeful.  It was too much.  Not a small step in the right
direction, but the whole trip.

The man's cock grew to huge proportions, the way they all do in
movies like this one.  Thick as the girl's wrist and almost as long
as her forearm, or so it seemed!  Certainly it put mine to shame. 
Mine isn't especially small, though it's nothing to boast about, so
as always when we watched these movies I hoped Debbie didn't
notice.  Though I doubted she'd care even if she did notice.  This
kind of thing wasn't for her.  It wasn't sex.

When that dong got to full-size it looked scary!  Stacy kissed its
tip, licked a pearly bead off it, and then got down to pleasuring
it.  Her puffed out red lips stretched wide and then slid over the
whole huge purple dome and then up and down it while both of her
hands positioned that tool for her mouth and stroked and squeezed
it, one hand gripping it above the other the way kids use a
baseball bat to choose up sides, with a lot left over!  She got
more and more devoted to that cock head, more intensely
concentrated, her cheeks hollowing on each up stroke.  Soon his
hips began to thrust into her face, and the length of that thing
began to disappear into her head God knows where!  They kept going,
on and on, at it, the man grunting each time she bobbed down on him
and he rose to meet her!  I began to sweat!  God, it was hot!

There came a shot looking at Stacy from the man's point of view,
past his stomach to Stacy's face, though mostly what we saw was the
hair piled high on her head out of the way.  She was leaning
comfortably between his legs on her forearms, her head centered and
framed by his upraised thighs, her deep, dark eyes staring into
mine as if it were my cock and we were sharing some intimate
secret.  His rod glistened, wet with her saliva, and I watched
entranced as the upper part appeared and disappeared inside her
swollen mouth.  

Then came a reverse shot from Stacy's point of view of the man.  A
universe of gleaming cock filled the whole screen, a high-rise of
erect flesh!  Then came a majestic ride down that purple-domed
tower, from the royal crown down finally to the man's pubic hair,
a jungle of vigorous undergrowth.  Then back up again to the peak. 
Stacy licked that shaft from top to bottom and back.  Then again. 
Every heavy vein in that tree trunk was visible.  And as Stacy
licked them, they pulsed!  There, from his crotch, was Stacy's view
of the world.  I could glimpse the man's face in the background in
ecstasy, chin up, head back, somewhere else!  Then Stacy's tongue
got back to business again, and the entire viewing audience took a
new lick down that cock from crown to jungle.

Eventually there came a side view and we could see Stacy's head
bending to do the man repeatedly, swallowing more and more of him
while he face-fucked her, slow-pumping that pipe into her like some
oil derrick.  She paused now and then to kiss the tip of the penis
passionately, her long lost love now finally found, and to pull on
the base with both her hands as if she were churning milk into
butter.

I got so stiff I had to shift my weight to free up my own painfully
hard-bound cock.  Debbie glanced at me and for some reason smiled
to herself.

Suddenly Stacy seemed to remember that this was an educational
film.  She lifted her head, still milking him with both hands, a
thread of viscous pre-cum visible on those gleaming red lips as she
smiled straight at me.  The weather girl's voice came back, saying,
"Girls, here's where you get to choose!  Remember the old nursery
rhyme?  'Cum in my face or cum in my tummy?  Good for my skin, but
also tastes yummy!'"  Stacy hesitated, torn, looking down at the
man's cock with real affection!  

The cock decided for her, as it always does in these movies.  It
lurched a few times, then spurted white cum repeatedly onto her
cheeks and chin and hair.  She seemed rapturous.  With a
confidential grin she scooped a fingerful off an eyebrow, tucked it
into her mouth, licked her finger, and mouthed "Yummy!"  Then she
kissed the tip of the man's prick again, her tongue wiping off a
pearly puddle of semen that had fallen back onto it.  

His cock now well and truly appreciated, Stacy then seemed to go
into a frenzy of sucking, licking the softening prick and balls and
kissing them both over and over.  The weather girl's voice broke
in.  "Wasn't that wonderful?  Aren't you eager to try that
yourself?  Well, press "pause" now and if you like go right ahead! 
We'll resume whenever you're ready!"

The word "PAUSE" appeared on the screen.  I pressed "pause" and
looked over at Debbie.  It had been three weeks!  Hell, for this,
a lifetime!  "How about it," I asked her.  Ever hopeful!

"No way, Sam!"

"She enjoyed it!  You saw!"  

"She's an actress, a kind of actress anyway.  If you're so eager
for a blow job, do it yourself!  Suck your own cock!"

"I would if I could," I said to encourage her, without even
considering whether I would if I could.  

"Oh?  You would?  Really?  You'd like to take a cock in your mouth? 
How interesting!"

"But I don't bend that far." 

"Where there's a will there's always a way," she replied, obviously
for the sake of argument.  "Maybe it's just that you're a little
bit inhibited, Sam?  Could that be it?  Maybe this video can help
you break down those inhibitions?  That's what you're hoping will
happen with me, aren't you?  Wouldn't you love to have a cock
sucking session like this one?  Isn't that what you're thinking?"

"You bet I am!  You bet I would!"  I was desperate for one!  Was
tonight the night?

"I don't mean you getting one, baby.  I mean you giving one if
you're all that eager!  Like Stacy!  You saw her.  Doesn't the idea
excite you now that you've seen it?  A long, fat prick like that
man's sliding in and out of your mouth, and then feel cum shooting
and splashing all over your face?  Or do you prefer your cum yummy
in your tummy?"

"Debbie, there's no need for sarcasm.  All I did was wonder whether
the tape might've changed your mind!  You chose it, I didn't.  I've
been away for three weeks, remember?"

"You're always asking me!" she said, annoyed.  "You're always
hoping I'll go down on you!  You're never satisfied with what we've
got."

I wasn't going to fall into that trap!  "We don't always have it!  
Not for the past three weeks, anyhow!  And hope springs eternal.  
What's wrong with that?"

"Well, it's annoying.  For one thing, I'm not persuaded there's
anything in it for me!  For another, I suspect you're all take and
no give!  You wouldn't do it!"

"What do you mean, I wouldn't do it?" I asked her.  "I've wanted to
go down on you lots of times!  You always say 'No!'  You know
that!"                                  

"That's not what I mean, Sam," she said, still resentful.

"Well, what do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean!"

I didn't exactly, but was afraid I might if I gave it a moment's
thought.  I also didn't like the direction this discussion was
going in, not at all, and I certainly didn't like the mood.  "No I
don't know what you mean," I said, as innocently as I could.

She turned toward me.  "Think about it this way.  You're always
after me to wrap my mouth around that tube of yours and lick it and
feel all those veins and bumps with my tongue, and purse my lips on
the edge of your cock head, and suck up whatever comes through your
pee hole.  Taste the stuff that leaks out of the tip whenever you
get excited.  Suck on it, and sink your prick in and out of my
moist, hot, clinging mouth until finally you squirt straight down
my throat.  Yours would fit completely in my mouth, wouldn't it? 
Maybe even stretched out full it wouldn't quite reach my throat, so
my lips really could do it all!  Isn't that what you want?  Great
for you, maybe, but why should I?  What's in it for me?"

Now I had a boner that was unbelievably rigid!  "God, you make it
sound so attractive!  Honey, lots of women do that for their men! 
You heard what the girl said!  What's in it for you is knowing that
you're giving me pleasure!"

"Well then, if you think it's so attractive, if you think giving
that kind of pleasure is so wonderful, you do it!  You do it!  You
first!"

"I mean attractive for me!  If the girl does it for me!  To me!" 
I was getting confused.  "I'd love for you to do it to me!  It's
harmless, and it would give me great pleasure."  Now that sounded
pompous!  Our last discussion of this subject had ended this way
too, I remembered.  And the previous!  

Debbie was turning stubborn, as she always did when we argued. 
"OK, Sam!  I heard you!  You said it, I didn't.  So you must mean
it!  Sucking cock is attractive and harmless, and it's pleasurable
because it gives pleasure.  And that's why you want me to go down
on you!"

"Right!"  Now I was also a little exasperated.  "I mean, Debbie,
why'd you bring this video home and get me all hot and bothered
like this?  It's all about blow jobs!  Which you don't do!"

She looked defiant, but said nothing.

For once I had the advantage, and I leaned in.  "'Oral Sex for
Women'?" I asked, incredulous.  "What could the title mean other
than what it does mean?  Cunt lapping?  You don't do that!  Cock
sucking?  You don't do that either!  What else could it be about? 
Let's just go to bed and do some of the old things!  It's been
three weeks, and I'm feeling horny as hell!"

"That's a very romantic proposal, Sam!  How can any girl resist it? 
I thought from the title that for once we'd be watching how women
do it with other women.  You're always hoping I'll get ideas from
your porn movies, so I thought maybe for once you could get some
ideas.  About how to be gentle and considerate, the way women are
I'm sure!  About kissing me nicely, for openers, maybe!  Other
things too.  It does have pointers for you, doesn't it?"

"For me?  A movie telling me how to suck a cock?"

"Even that!  Yes!  So at the very least you'd know at first hand
what you're always asking me to do!  So you'll know what you're
talking about.  Besides, cocks aren't the only things people can
suck on.  I've sometimes wondered how it might feel if you were a
little more ... ardent.  I have fingers and toes as well as
breasts, you know.  All you ever want in your mouth is my breasts. 
If those."

"Oh, God!  Let's go to bed Debbie!  Right now!  I'd love to suck on
your fingers and toes and breasts, right now!  And anything else
you'd care to name!"

She looked over smugly, as if she'd just finally gained a point in
some contest.  "That's good!  But first, let's watch some more of
the tape."

"Why, hon?  If you don't intend to use any of the information."

"You never know what might turn out to be useful, Sam!"

Elated by that concession, slight as it was, I pressed "Play" and
the tape resumed.  Maybe there'd be something in this for me after
all?

The next segment was brief.  The short-haired, dark-haired,
dark-eyed weather girl looked out and said "Now we're all going to
break down what you just saw into its basic elements, and we'll
practice each of them, and then practice everything together. 
Press 'Pause' again now, girls, and then go get your favorite man. 
Or if you don't have one, go get your favorite dildo."  She smiled. 
"Or if you don't have one of those either, not yet anyhow, then a
banana or a hot dog or a candle or a soda pop bottle will do just
fine.  Some girls like cucumbers.  A little hand lotion will help,
too.  If you don't happen to have a man handy, plan to use your
imagination."  She smiled encouragingly, just between us girls. 
"Take him in hand, and then we'll resume."  She smiled again.  

The word "PAUSE" came on the screen again.  

                               ii.

I pressed "pause," and turned to ask Debbie whether she saw her
favorite man anywhere about.  Without a word she got up abruptly
and went into the kitchen.  She came back with two bananas.

"Here," she said.  "Practice what you preach!"

Now I was puzzled.  "Why a banana for me?  This tape is for girls. 

"Not necessarily."  Then she relented a little.  "It was
recommended to me by my office manager, Bruce.  He's ... you know. 
He's different, if you know what I mean.  We all talk to him as if
he were one of us, all the girls in our office.  He knows lots
about how to make men more ... responsive.  What's attractive. 
What attracts.  We're always curious whether men like Bruce feel
the way women do about ... some things."  She paused, then
continued.  "I mentioned my fingers and toes, how I wished
sometimes you were a little more ... venturesome, and so on.  He
thought a tape teaching more about oral sex might help."

"You talk about our private things at the office, Debbie?  And ask
a gay man for advice?"

"Sam, it's Bruce, not just anyone!  Women feel comfortable
confiding in him!  He never takes advantage of what he knows, so it
doesn't matter what he knows!  And he doesn't gossip -- who'd pay
attention to him?  And he has the cutest dates calling on him after
work, sometimes!  Sometimes we're all a little jealous!"

I didn't like hearing that.  Jealous of Bruce?  Debbie and the
other girls at her office size up the men who come through as
possible...partners?  Even gay men calling on a gay man?  I didn't
say anything, but I must have looked a little solemn.  Worried.

"I don't mean jealous of Bruce, honey.  I mean we envy the way his
dates look.  All prettied up for their night out on the town.  Some
of them are just gorgeous, and dressed beautifully too!  Designer
dresses, he likes that, and they all have the figures they need to
carry them off!"

"Bruce's dates?  Gorgeous?  Beautiful?  And he's gay?  They're men,
aren't they?"

"I suppose.  Some may be, technically.  Bruce says lots of men
think they're really women, so they take hormones and get the
surgery they need to become women.  And while they're at it, the
surgery they also need to become beautiful.  Lots don't, they just
work at being beautiful the way women do.  Whether they're then
women or men is all in the eye of the beholder.  Bruce likes them
that way.  His friends all look like women when they come to call
on him.  "

"Your Bruce likes guys who look like girls?"

"He likes girls who were once guys, honey, for sure!  And the girls
who visit him like his kind of man, too.  We all do.  He's
something!  A real man.  Lean and graceful, but with solid, hard
muscles, like a dancer.  Handsome, chiseled face, high cheekbones,
deep eyes.  Very dramatic!  He did dance professionally for a while
before he got his M.B.A.  Why do you ask?"

"No reason.  Just trying to understand."  The way she'd described
Bruce was disturbing me.  She sounded ready to go to bed with him
even though he was gay.  Debbie must have sensed it.

"Understand what, honey?  Does it matter to you?  Do you have some
special feeling about effeminate men I don't know about?  Would
you like to date him too?  A handsome, hard-bodied man?  Does the 
idea that some men look like gorgeous women give you a
funny feeling inside?  Do you secretly envy them?  We were talking
about how nice it is to suck cock.  Do you ever wonder what
a pretty man's cock might feel like, say, in your own mouth?  Or a
handsome man's, pushed into you maybe somewhere even more private? 
Do you have strange feelings about all this you don't want to admit
to me, maybe?  Maybe not even to yourself?"

There was that sarcasm again.  I was already losing round two,
and I hadn't even left my corner.  I said nothing.  Then, "This
tape teaches the wrong kind of sucking, Debbie.  It's your Bruce's
kind of sucking.  Cock sucking!  That's what gay men do with each
other.  And girls do with men.  Real men don't suck cock or dress
up to look like girls.  That's all I meant!"

"That's what you think you meant!  I heard something else!  No more
discussion!  You said before that you'd suck on anything I'd care
to name!  Well, right now I'm naming a banana!  Is that too much
for you to handle?" 

"No," I said, trying now to be conciliatory.  "Of course I'll suck
on your banana!"

She saw that I was trying to appease her, and she tried to
appreciate it.  "That's my dear!  Let's just watch some more of the
tape, shall we?  Maybe we'll both learn a few things!"

Again, faint hope rose up in my heart from that remark.  Maybe she
would change her mind about blowing me?  Maybe this mis-chosen tape
would prove a godsend?  I looked at the way she was holding her
banana.  Cradling it in both hands.  Caressing it with her
fingertips!  A woman's fingertips, long, slender, manicured in deep
red.  Grasping her phallic banana at the base with one hand, and
stroking its underside absent-mindedly with the other.  Again I
found I was rock hard!  I pressed "play."

There was Stacy again, still wearing full lips and babydolls, but
this time seen from the rear on her knees, facing a different man
seated on a plain chair.  Another man with an incredible endowment
-- his erection rose from his crotch higher than two bananas
planted end to end!  Or so it seemed.  Stacy looked over her
shoulder, seemed to notice us watching, smiled, and then lifted
her ass and waved 'Hi!' at us with it, swishing its exposed round
cheeks.  My prick lurched.

The dark-haired girl's voice again addressed us.  "Now, we're going
to take this topic up one part at a time, and then put all the
parts together.  The lessons are first, how to hold a man's cock. 
Then how to kiss it.  Then in quick succession, because we're all
eager to get down to it, aren't we, how to lick it, suck it, slide
lips up and down on it, and then as a special treat how to deep
throat it.  Finally, cum-swallowing.  Then, girls, you're on your
own.  But if you'd like to know even more, there are all sorts of
"Special Project" lessons included on this tape for afterward, and
you can watch them at your leisure.  Meanwhile just listen and
watch closely while Stacy demonstrates everything I describe.
Ready?"

I glanced at Debbie, and saw that she was looking at me.  Strictly
speaking, at my banana, which I was holding at my side in one hand
like, well, like a banana.  While she was cradling hers like some
precious, fragile thing to be cherished.  Her eyes flicked up to
mine, and I saw she was rebuking me.  I quickly held my banana in
front of me like hers, like a baby, in both hands.  Satisfied, her
eyes returned to the screen.

"As we all already know I'm sure, guys come in many different
sizes.  Some are weenies.  Most are only average, but that's OK,
some girls are satisfied with only average, maybe they have a
problem of self-esteem, or maybe the man's good with what he's got. 
Chuck as you can see is not average!  His is a prize-winner -- more
than two hands tall!  So Stacy has begun by grasping it gently but
firmly at its base with one hand, and inclining it to a more
comfortable angle for her mouth with her other."

A close-up followed of Stacy's long fingers with their long red
manicured nails doing just that.  Like Debbie's.  I grasped my
banana by the base and bent it toward me, and looked again at
Debbie.  I sensed that she'd just checked to see if I was now being
dutiful and minding my lessons, but her eyes were on the screen,
and she was holding her banana exactly the way Stacy was holding
Chuck's cock, feminine delicacy implied by her little finger held
apart from the rest, just a bit, as if cocks and bananas were tea
cups.  I did the same thing.

"Even when it's swollen and erect, a penis's skin is loose.  Lift
and lower the skin down at the base so it slides a little on the
cock shaft as you grasp it.  Pump it a few times.  Then take hold
of the cock with your right hand too, and lift and lower the skin
there.  Then with both hands together.  Do this a few times.  Men
call what you're doing jerking off, but be languorous about it,
girls.  Real slow.  He'll appreciate it later that you were in no
hurry.  And it'll give him more time to surrender his body and his
desires to you for the rest of the session.  That's what you want. 
To melt his brain into his cock so he becomes putty in your hands. 
You know the old rule -- make them want you, then decide later
whether you want them."

Stacy was pulling on Chuck with a tantalizing slowness, and Chuck
was already lost in his bliss.  I have never envied anyone as much
as I envied Chuck at that moment.

"If you're using a dildo or banana as a cock, pump with your right
hand while the other steadies it.  If you've got both hands full of
a man, especially a man with a prick like Chuck's, count your
blessings.  And use the hand lotion or some other mild lubricant to
give your hand a slick feeling."

I was now holding my banana like a flagpole on top of my own
pent-up, raging prick.  Stacy poured pink lotion onto her palms
from a pink plastic bottle and then rubbed them together
vigorously, like some ditch digger who'd spits on them before
picking up his shovel.  Then with sinuous, deft movements of those
marvelous slim hands and fingers she spread the rest of the lotion
onto the backs and wrists of both her hands.  Debbie handed me an
identical pink plastic bottle.  It smelled of flowers -- her usual
skin lotion.  She watched me.  I set the banana down for a moment
and spread the lotion onto my own hands and wrists with a close
imitation, I thought, of Stacy's seductive dexterity.  Then cupped
them and sniffed deeply.  Now my hand also smelled of flowers, and
it was like sniffing Debbie herself!  Debbie smiled encouragingly
and turned back to the screen.  Slowly, with softened hands, like
the blonde in the video, I masturbated my banana.

Our weather girl's voice returned.  "Now bend over and kiss the
tip, girls.  Delicately."  That's just what Stacy did to Chuck. 
"Then again.  Lick off any drops of pre-cum.  Now kiss the edge of
the crown, and lick that.  You're driving him wild, darlings!"  

What Stacy was doing to Chuck was driving me wild too, but I didn't
dare reach for my own dong, which was performing a full court press
in my pants, trapped, weeping in frustration.  Instead, I bent to
my own kissing and licking after a quick glimpse at Debbie doing
the same.  She looked so sexy!  Why wouldn't she do me that way!? 
Her eyes rose to meet mine with an almost sisterly affection, as if
we were two girls double-dating two bananas.  I turned my attention
entirely to my man of the hour, Mr. Banana, and I kissed and licked
him passionately, devotedly.

"Make him wait before you take him into your mouth.  Make him a
little crazy!  Now kiss and lick his cock along its whole length,
bottom to peak.  Especially on the underside, girls.  It's
extremely sensitive.  Take your time.  But don't forget to keep
pumping the base with your hands!  A few gentle squeezes now and
then will help too.  So he can't possibly guess what you'll take it
into your pretty little head to do next.  Then he'll be so grateful
when you actually do take it into your pretty little head!"  

That's exactly what my pretty little head did.  I looked over for
a moment, and saw that Debbie had stopped with her banana
altogether, and was just watching me.  She looked pleased, not at
all angry.

"No fair!" I said to her in between licks and kisses.  "You have to
do this too!  It was your idea!"

"Yes it was," she replied.  "You look so sexy right now, honey!  So
very dear!  But may I make a suggestion?  You're nowhere near
gentle enough.  Maybe you're feeling too passionate?  Try to be
more ladylike!  Daintier!  Maybe peel back the banana so your
imitation cock will be a lot more fragile?  Then you'll respect the
delicacy of what you're doing!  "

She's the expert?  I did that, and found that from then on I did
indeed have to be extremely careful not to bite or break it.  The
video instructor explained how the ridge below the crown of a penis
provides a natural seal for the lips for sucking, and added that it
isn't the sucking that brings a man off, it's the vacuum sealed
pressure of a woman's lips sliding up and down on an erect penis,
lubricated by her saliva, slippery and yet sweet, snug as a
virgin's pussy.  She discussed how to open the back of your throat,
and advised novices how to practice defeating the gag reflex so a
man can literally feel your throat swallowing him.  

She informed us that a male orgasm produces usually less than two
teaspoons of cum, but he can squirt it as far as six feet.  "Men
love to think it's gallons, and they love for us to swallow it
all," the voice informed us confidentially. "So do try!  If your
man is healthy it's a nourishing source of protein, a little sweet,
a little salty, slick on the tongue like tapioca or an egg white,
lightly flavored sometimes by whatever he's eaten recently.  You'll
have plenty of time to get accustomed to his distinctive flavor
while you seduce him, because if you've done your cock sucking right,
he's been leaking pre-cum from his cock-tip all along.  He can't
help but.  The poor dear!"

I tried diligently to do everything she advised.  It was quite a
repertory.  Stacy demonstrated different lip, tongue, head, and
hand movements, ways to play a man the way musicians play their
instruments.  Then she began freely improvising her melodies.
Riffing!  It was an art form!

My naked banana was ready to climax, I was sure, when I heard our
instructor say, "If you aren't blowing a real man right now, girls,
you'll want to taste your reward anyhow.  So while Stacy's bringing
Chuck to the edge, go get a gravy baster and fill it with the
whites of a raw egg.  Then squeeze the bulb into your mouth to
simulate the ejaculations of a live cock finally gone wild and
spewing cum for all it's worth!  That's every girl's reward, the
evidence of things hoped for." 

I looked up.  There was Debbie standing over me and my banana,
holding a gravy baster erect in front of my face with an almost
triumphant look!  She really was getting off on this!  I couldn't
disappoint her!  Like a starved whore I abandoned my banana, lunged
at the gravy baster pointed straight at my mouth, and began to
nurse on it frantically.  I slid my lips back and forth over the
narrow tip, up and down, while Debbie held it in position against
her crotch as if it were her penis. I was vaguely thinking that
size does matter, that bananas are really fatter, better endowed,
more satisfying in the mouth than gravy basters.  But just then the
gravy baster rewarded me by pumping something warm, salty, and
slick into my mouth.  The warmth puzzled me -- I knew that we keep
our eggs refrigerated.  A faint fishy flavor puzzled me too.  But
then this whole previously prepared gravy baster puzzled me.  Had
Debbie seen this tape before?  She must have.  Why show it to me? 
She did intend to do me, somehow, but I had to leap some hurdles
first?

I closed my eyes to concentrate on swallowing the viscous stuff --
all at once seemed the only way.  I gulped several times, but still
felt it coating my mouth and tongue.  It stayed there, a film over
everything that even my own saliva couldn't penetrate!  It didn't
let you forget!  "Congratulations, girls!  Now you've sucked cock!" 
the voice on the tube concluded.  "This ends our demonstration of
the essentials.  You are now capable cock suckers, and your men
will love you for it.  But to learn more advanced techniques,
continue watching!"  I opened my eyes just in time to see Stacy
lifting her mouth up off the hair at the base of Chuck's prick. 
She'd deep throated that whole tower!  That tool of his kept
leaving her mouth, on and on -- it seemed to take forever until
finally the peak passed out from between her lips.  Had Chuck cum
directly into Stacy's stomach?  Was his dong two feet long? 
Longer?  How did that cute girl ever learn to swallow a thing like
that? 

There were more advisory lessons further along, our guide reminded
us, detailed re-examinations of the fundamentals and quite a few
ingenious tricks of the trade.  But we might just as well view them
another time, I thought.  I stopped the video -- my banana had
gotten mangled anyhow by my repeated failed attempts to deep throat
it.  The idea that Debbie was at last interested in oral sex
excited me.  But sucking on a banana was not my idea of an
educational evening, nor an entertaining one either when I'd been
away for three weeks.  Maybe Debbie would look at the rest of the
tape by herself, and maybe be persuaded by it?  She seemed
preoccupied.  Had the video finally turned her on?  I asked her
that question.

"No," she replied seriously.  "What turned me on was the sight of
my own husband's lips sliding up and down on that banana.  You did
seem to be enjoying it, honey.  If a job is worth doing, it's worth
doing well, is that how you felt?  Or were you really beginning to
get turned on?  I hope so.  When you were bestowing those little
nibbling kisses on the tip I felt very strange inside.  Very
excited, just as I'd hoped I would be.  That was unforgettable. 
You did seem to be deeply in love with that banana!  Next time I
want you to have a manicure like mine to wrap around the thing, and
wear some lipstick to enhance the effect.  I'll love seeing that!
Promise!   Did you enjoy sucking off that banana?  Please say yes!"

This wasn't the excitement I'd hoped to find, but it was something,
maybe something I could work with.  "Sure, whatever -- it was OK,"
I said.  No more answer was needed than that.  She sounded serious,
but I figured she was still teasing me.  At least she wasn't being
sardonic, nor disgusted.  She seemed more intrigued by my newly
discovered talent.  "What do you mean, next time?"

She took a deep breath.  "Well, I have to tell you, Sam, and I
realize people can differ on this.  I loved watching you do it.
Even though I've always thought the whole thing was little
demeaning for a woman, insulting even.  Asking a woman to bow
down to worship the almighty male phallus?  It's humiliating! 
That's why whenever you've asked me to lower myself that way, to
submit myself to you, I get angry and answer 'No way!'  And tonight
when you were asking me again all I could think was 'Oh?  You want
that?  You first!  You do it!'  And you did it!  I loved watching you
doing it.  It's obviously a man's thing.  A kind of phallic
self-celebration.  A vision of a man honoring the symbol of his own
manliness.  I found it strangely exciting!"

"Honey," I had to reply.  "You miss the point.  It's an act of
affection.  It's meant to make someone feel good.  It's not in the
least humiliating, I shouldn't think!"

"That's what I'm saying!  Why don't men do their friends?  Make
them feel good, if it's like a good-natured slap on the back?"

I paid scant attention.  "For men it's demeaning, Debbie. 
Submission to another man.  But you heard that woman say that for
women it isn't submissive at all, rather the reverse.  Good oral
sex can reduce a man to a gibbering simpleton who will agree to
anything a woman wants.  Its a way for a woman to control him, even
dominate him."  Maybe that argument will work, I was thinking.

"That's what you want?  For me to control you?  Dominate you?"

I had to choose my answer carefully, or I'd also lose round three! 
"For you to persuade me to please you in any way I can, yes, by
trying to please me.  Yes, I'd love that!  And I'd want to please
you too, Debbie.  I really would!"

"That's the kind of relationship we've got?  That's what love is? 
A tradeoff?  Tit for tat?  No tit, no tat?"

"Debbie, that's not what I said!"

"It's what I heard."  She was silent for a long moment.  I was
about to suggest again that we just get to bed and try to please
each other in our customary  old fashioned ways -- I was desperate
for any kind of sex after three weeks away and alone.  For
affection.  Just for acceptance!  Then suddenly she seemed to come
to a decision.  "Let's be reasonable, Sam.  Put down that banana,
or else eat it and let's talk."

"All right."  Outwardly I was calm, but now inwardly wild with
hope!  Was it possible that this very night my wife meant finally
to favor me with her virgin mouth?!  Finally?   

She settled in.  "Now let me understand this.  You want me to do
something I think of as unnatural, distasteful, demeaning, even a
little perverse, because it would please you.  Is that right?"

"I'm sorry you feel that way about it.  But essentially, yes.  I'm
not insisting, mind."

"I appreciate that, honey.  So neither am I."

"Neither are you what?  Insisting on what?"

"Insisting that you do it first.  Something you'd think of as
unnatural, distasteful, and even a little perverse.  To show your
good faith.  So you'll fully appreciate what my pleasing you could
be costing me.  To show me even before I attempt it that you've
been there and done that, and survived it, maybe even enjoyed it! 
Isn't that a principle of male leadership?  Never ask anyone to do
anything you haven't done first and done better?"

"Done what, Debbie?"  It was getting late, and I was getting too
tired and addled for these mind games.

"What you want me to do.  Suck cock!"

"You mean I should go down on myself?  I told you, I can't!  I
don't bend far enough!"

"But you did tell me you would if you could!"

"I said that, yes."  And I'd regretted it instantly!  

"So why not do it to a cock you can reach?"

"Where's that, baby?"  

"Why not do some other man's cock?"

"What?!" 

She continued in a straightforward, reasonable tone of voice. 
"That seems only fair.  And I'll give you good odds!  Here's what
I'm thinking.  You suck on another man's cock.  All the way.  Bring
him off at least once, to show your good faith, maybe more if you
feel like it to prove to me it's enjoyable.  Then I'll suck on
yours whenever you want, for all the rest of our married lives. 
But you first!  Because I need to know that you've overcome the
same distaste I've got at the prospect of it.  That you understand
how I feel!  That you've overcome that distaste in order to please
me!  As an act of love.  That you've set an example for me to
admire and try to emulate!"  

She smiled encouragingly at me.

I stared back.  Had that video driven her mad?  I tried to reach
her.  "Honey, for openers think of the humiliation!  Men don't give
sexual pleasure to other men.  Not unless they're gay.  Why do you
want me to...?"

"You just said it wasn't in the least humiliating, that to do it is
an act of affection!  Where's your affection for me?  And besides,
you promised me you would.  You said you'd suck anything I'd care
to name.  I named a banana and you did that job beautifully.  Now
I'm naming something else.  Another man's cock."  

She really meant it!  She was serious!

"You're always telling me you're a man of your word, that's why all
your clients trust you!"

That was true.  I valued my word.  What was it I'd promised her?

"So be a man of your word!  But even more, be a leader!  Here's
your opportunity to lead the way!  You do it, maybe I'll watch, and
who knows, maybe I'll even pick up a few pointers.  But certainly,
then I'll feel obliged to do it for you."   

She nodded, affirming that she agreed with what she'd just heard
herself say.  I just stared.

"It's that simple.  You lead, I'll follow.  You do it as payment in
advance, or as a sacrificial act, or to set the right example, or
out of curiosity, whatever reasons you think adequate, and I'll do
it for you.  In gratitude, out of renewed devotion to you.  Who
knows, maybe I'll get to like the feel of a man's cock in my mouth
-- lots of girls do.  Maybe you'll get to like the feel too.  I saw
you with that banana."  

I still couldn't say anything!  

She went into her closing argument.  The one that cinches a deal
and gets a customer to sign.  I was reminded that she's a
successful real estate saleswoman.  "Think about it, Sam!  Think
about what it costs you, and what it gets you!  Only maybe fifteen
minutes of a little discomfort, a half hour at most, out of a whole
lifetime.  It can't be that unpleasant -- the video certainly
doesn't think so, and you've never implied to me that it might be. 
You do that and you can get in return weeks and months and years of
blow jobs if you want them.  Weeks and months of my mouth wrapped
snug around your prick and slipping up and down on it.  Weeks of
you feeling exalted while your loving wife gives you head.  All for
giving me fifteen minutes of your time.  Showing me the way. 
Fifteen minutes you might not much enjoy, but then again you just
might.  Stacy certainly does!  Less than fifteen minutes if you can
get into it and bring him off quickly."  

She waited for my reaction.  I tried to speak, but only splutters
came out.  Was that a faintly amused smile at the edge of her lips? 
"Hello?" she called out to me.

"Debbie," I finally managed to say.  "You don't mean it!"

"Do you mean it when you say you want me to go down on you?  When
you imply that I don't love you because I won't go down on you?"

"I've never said that!  Never!"  But saying it that way only seemed
to confirm for her that I'd felt it.  She merely nodded, her
suspicion confirmed, a glint of anger now suddenly visible in her
eyes. 

She stood up abruptly.  "Think about it, Sam.  That's the deal. 
You do what you must.  I'm going to bed!"  And the next second she
was gone.  Nowhere in the room.  A second after that I heard our
bedroom door slam shut.  I was familiar with that sequence -- many
of our quarrels ended that way.  When I came in she'd be asleep. 
There'd be no lovemaking between us!  I wouldn't dare wake her. 
She was now unapproachable.

                           iii.

So I didn't think there was any reason to follow her in.  To plead
with her.  Saying what?  I just sat there, shocked.  My own wife
wants me to be a cock sucker.  But she's right, her own husband
wants her to become a cock sucker!  Fair's fair.  Isn't it?

Disconsolate, unthinking, I sat there.  So somehow she's turned on
by mouth-to-appendage, I was thinking.  She'd mentioned fingers and
toes.  Other men's cocks too, apparently.  But watching, not doing,
or being expected to do it.  Feeling in control of what's happening
while she watches?  That's OK.  I guess she's something of a voyeur
after all.  Like me.  Apparently she'd resented it whenever I'd
asked her to do something she'd never done.  But watching someone
else do it?  

I picked up the remote and pressed "play."  Then I half-watched the
screen.  Was this my future?  The first of the "Special Project"
episodes showed Stacy sitting on Chuck's face while leaning forward
to lick and suck at his cock. There are worse fates than that, I
decided, and I began to watch more closely.  The next demonstrated
Stacy's swallowing techniques, different shots photographed at
different times one after another, with what must have been forty
different loads of cum spurting into her mouth all told, and
swallowed down.  The most efficient method seemed to be a kind of
closed mouth gulping, teeth apart, prick held loosely in the lips
like a cigarette.  I tried to swallow that way.  

Another episode established that however a cock sucker may feel
about her man of the evening she should never break eye contact
with him, not by looking down, not by looking away, not by closing
her eyes.  "Keep watching his face," the weather lady advised as
Stacy's enormous dark eyes stared in solemn innocence at me again
in the shot from the man's  angle of vision, the one with her face
centered just above Chuck's crotch.  "He'll think you're hoping for
his approval.  But you'll know its just one more way you're playing
tunes on his flute to make him dance."  The angle changed to
Stacy's, and I watched the man writhe in exquisite pleasure, or
anguish, who could tell which, from whatever I was supposedly doing
to him.  Whatever Stacy was doing to him.

The tape ended in a suck-fest, bodies heaped on other bodies
indiscriminately, each mouth fitted to a crotch of one or another
gender.  Close up I could see that some pairs were guys with other
guys -- it didn't seem to matter.  One of them looked like a girl
until you looked closely -- she was just like any of the attractive
girls you see in porn films, pretty and heavily made up, with puffy
lips, large full breasts, and pointy nipples.  Except that she also
had balls and a cock.  Equality of the sexes was this film's
message, I decided.  All mouths are created equal, regardless of
race, creed, color, gender, or political affiliation.  Suck and
suck alike.  As ye give, so shall ye receive!  From each according
to his ability, to each according to his need!  Orgy politics!

Last of all was an image of two men sixty-nining each other
devotedly, forming a perfect love knot I thought.  Lying stretched
out at their ease with eyes closed, heads bobbing, and mouths
working, one atop the another, man on man, hugging.  My mind by now
was cluttered with all sorts of wise sayings.  If you suck and
don't succeed, suck, suck again.  A cum saved is a cum earned. 
It's an ill cock sucker that blows nobody good.  One good fuck
deserves another.  Good night, good suck, and God bless!  I was too
groggy to think straight.  It didn't seem to matter.  A few minutes
later I crawled stealthily into my own bed for the first time in
three weeks.  Debbie didn't stir.

But in the morning when I opened my eyes she was leaning on one
elbow and looking down at me with her inexpressive look.  When she
saw I was awake, she didn't move nor change her expression.  I
looked up into her eyes, also not moving.  Then she wordlessly
extended her thumb toward me, toward my mouth, its tip not quite
touching.  An inquiry, I realized even though I was still
half-dozing.  Wordlessly I leaned forward, kissed it, then licked
it, then opened my mouth and closed my lips around it.  Then slid
my mouth up and down on it a few times, my eyes never leaving hers,
cock sucking her thumb by the tried and true Stacy system.  She
smiled and with her other hand she stroked my cheek.  

I suppose she wanted to be sure, so when I happened to be only
kissing the tip of her red fingernail, she pulled it away, then
placed both hands on the top of my head and gently pressed down. 
I slid down in the bed as she directed, until my face had arrived
almost between her legs.  At last?  She spread those legs wide
apart to accommodate my body, and I found myself lying between them
just like Stacy with her second man, staring at her mound with its
downy hair the way Stacy had stared at that man's huge dong.  She
wanted me to do her cunt!   But no.  Her hand covered her mound,
and there was that thumb again sticking straight up out of it like
a short, erect cock, exactly where a penis would have been if she
were a man.  I looked up and saw her looking down at me, her
expression still benign, but expectant.  So I kissed that thumb
again, and took the red tip into my mouth.  Then all of it.  

I then began to suck doubly hard on that pelvic thumb, my eyes
never leaving hers.  She knew now, and knew that I knew.  I closed
my eyes and concentrated on that phallic thumb as if it were my
life, my soul's sustenance, lipping the tip, bobbing my head up and
down while sucking it up to the first joint, licking the length of
its underside, kissing its base passionately, avid to bring it off! 
I wanted that thumb to climax and cum with all my heart!  I was
starved!  Desperate!  I saw each time my head rose that the third
finger of that same thumbed hand, her left hand, the finger with
her gold wedding band, had slid into her slit and begun a gentle
massage.  My head bobbed rhythmically up and down over her as I
finger-sucked her while she finger-fucked herself!  Her thigh
muscles tensed.  Then her whole body!  Then she gave a great sigh
and relaxed.  I'd brought her off!

Nothing more needed to be said.  There were no more rounds to
fight.  I'd agreed.  She'd won.  

And she then welcomed me with open thighs!  Our lovemaking for the
next few hours was mind-shattering!  The best of our married lives
together, by far!  She kissed and clasped and writhed and twisted
on, around, atop, and all over me, and I lunged and plunged myself
into and all over her!  All without a single word spoken!  There
was no need.  Except when at last I was about to dip my face into
her delicate pink, shining, moist slit, its dainty lips curling
along its length and the pink bud of her clit peering out shyly
from its hood, awaiting liberation by my tongue.  We were in a
perfect position for sixty-nining, my crotch in front of her face
just as hers was in front of mine.  I squared my hips at that
moment to thrust myself forward,  knowing that my penis was only
inches from her mouth, offering it to her in return for my face
buried in her.  But she murmered, "Not yet, love.  Not yet.  Soon! 
But do me! Lick me!  Yessss!"  

I did.

It was early afternoon by the time we finally came together in the
kitchen for a kind of brunch, showered and dressed casually, at
ease, feeling quite civilized.  I suppose strange things happen to
couples when they're separated -- what we each desire becomes fixed
in our imaginations, and if we don't get them, petty discontents
emerge to haunt us.  Then with a few lurches the relationship
re-establishes itself, as solid as ever, if it was solid to begin
with.  But different.  I'd been three weeks away from Debbie, and
my old desire for oral sex with her and her reluctance become the
dominant fact of our relationship last night.  

Now we were different.  She'd proposed a way to bridge the gap, and
I'd accepted it.  Already I'd enjoyed a bonus, hours of wonderful
oral access to her body anywhere I chose.  Her ten fingers and toes
and her marvelous breasts had been sucked as lovingly, as fondly,
as her clit.   Now I was going to suck some guy's cock, and then
she was going to suck mine whenever I asked her to do it for the
rest of our lives together.  We'd each give something and get
something we'd each wanted.   Otherwise nothing had changed.  We
still loved each other.  It was a warm, sunny day.  What had seemed
unthinkable last night was simply no big deal.

I got down to the kitchen first, and greeted Debbie with an
elaborate brunch.  She was wearing white shorts and a
slightly-tight white T-shirt, her hair held back with a red
scrunchie the color of her lipstick and nails, looking just
adorable.  Looking radiant!  We kissed each other as passionately
as on the first morning of our honeymoon, and we almost went back
to our bedroom.  But no, enough for now.  We had things to talk
about.  She looked at the spread I'd prepared -- eggs benedict,
blueberry pancakes, bacon and sausage, toast and fresh muffins,
espresso coffee.  Her face lit up.

"That's gorgeous, sweetheart.  I hereby claim this feast as a token
of your love for me!  Now let's eat no more of it than we must to
keep from starving.  We'll stow the rest."

"Isn't today special?"  I was disappointed.  I'd been creating that
breakfast for over an hour, and had even gone to a nearby bakery to
get the muffins.

"It is to me, certainly.  But this needs to be a feast for the
eyes, not the stomach.  We need to lower your weight a little,
improve your figure, so you'll feel more attractive.  So do I."

"You couldn't be any more attractive to me than you are right now,"
I told her.  "And I'm pretty trim.  Last night probably took off
any extra weight I added during the past few weeks."

She dimpled, then put her forefinger under her chin and bobbed her
head, obviously delighted.  "That's so very sweet of you to say
that, darling!  You are an angel, and I do love you!  And you do
look lovely, yes!  You certainly feel lovely!.  But I think ten
pounds less to love would mean more that we can enjoy loving!  With
just a little care we can each lose that much in a week!  Twenty in
the month we'll need to field test before the big event!"

"All right," I said, a little puzzled.  "That can't hurt.  But
why?"

"We need thin waistlines," she replied.  "We're starting out fresh
now, in a way.  You're a new you, so you need to look new.  More
huggable.  You can't imagine how happy I am, knowing that you're
willing to please a man for my sake!  Even if only on a whim, in
order to satisfy me!"

She smiled, and her radiance lit up her whole face.  My whole body
glowed in the warmth!  I melted!

"There's no hurry.  But I know just the man!  I think you'll like
him too.  And no complications!"

"Complications?  You mean, I won't feel tempted to run off with him
afterward?  Who, Debbie?"

"Bruce!"

"The office manager who recommended that video to you to begin
with?  The gay guy?

"That's who, honey.  You'll love him!  Well, you will, sweetheart,
that's true, at least you'll make love to him!  He's so hot!  I
described him to you last night, you remember?  A professional
dancer, once?  Thin, not as thin as you even now, but a real hunk! 
His every move marvelous to watch!  And those penetrating eyes,
gentle yet intense!  You'll adore him, we all do!  He'll be ideal
for this!  I'll talk to him on Monday.  He's very particular about
his partners, but I think maybe he'll let you do him as a favor to
me.  The other girls would be insane with jealousy!  What a pity I
can't call them and tell them!"

I was uneasy about this.  "Give a blow job to a known faggot? 
Debbie, what would that make me if it got out?  Think of my
reputation!  Think of yours, married to me!"

"That's what I am thinking about, baby.  Who's more likely to talk,
some straight guy boasting to his buddies about the freebie he got
from that queer he always thought was straight, or Bruce, who gets
all the sex he wants whenever he wants it, from other men if he
wants them, so one more isn't notable?  Who's had to be discreet
about his sexual preferences all his life?  Who knows more about
this kind of sex?  He'd be doing us the favor!"

She had a point.

"As for what blowing Bruce makes you, what does blowing anyone make
you?  The same thing.  A gay man's penis isn't different from any
other man's.  Either way, whether or not it becomes known,
sweetheart, you'll have taken a man's penis into your mouth.  And
tasted a man's cum.  You'll be a man who has sucked cock.  A cock
sucker.  No different from any other cock sucker, the same as Stacy
in that regard.  And that's what you'll always be from then on, the
same as any girl would be who's ever gone down on a guy.  You'll
know it, and I'll know it!  And I'll always know it, that my
husband sucked on a cock until it spurted sperm into him.  I'll
remember every time I look at you!  I'll also always know that I'm
married to a man who'll do anything to please his wife!  Who puts
her desires above even his own!  A real love!"

And she kissed me.  I felt a little reassured.  "I guess Bruce
makes sense," I said judiciously.  "He's had plenty of experience
with this kind of thing, I suppose.  Even with amateurs like me, I
suppose."

"Don't worry about whether you'll do yourself proud, baby.  You'll
be fine!  We'll work on it.  You'll be ready when we decide to do
it.  I think he'll be willing."

The rest of the weekend was idyllic.  Debbie was like a schoolgirl
with a new fella, humming and prancing around the house.  Each time
she got a glimpse of me roaming about doing odd household repairs,
or watering the house plants, or sitting at the computer entering
figures in my sales log, she'd beam, obviously overjoyed just to be
in my vicinity!.  And I'd glow!  And I tumbled in and out of bed
with her, on and off, the whole weekend!  And in bed her body was
heavenly!

We were dieting, thinning down, so it didn't occur to us to
celebrate our new relationship by going out to eat.  All I remember
about food during that weekend, and for the days that followed, was
diet cottage cheese and unsweetened lemonade.  And some diet pills
of different kinds Debbie got from the drugstore to curb our
appetites -- one of them made me feel so much better about myself
that I almost didn't care much how hungry I was.  Also the high
moment of our dinner meal, a milkshake with very few calories that
I found completely filling.  She spooned the powder out of an
unmarked jar into a blender, and told me that the recommended dose
was one serving a day only, but that she'd already doubled the
concentration to be sure I'd be well-nourished.  

"Drink only one of these each day, honey," she warned me. "It's
pretty rich.  As it is you'll probably experience some pretty
fierce mood swings, like sugar highs, maybe even acne problems, a
few zits like when you were a teenager with your hormones raging. 
But it'll mellow you out, body and mind.  It'll help you
redistribute your weight.  It's just the thing for that!"  

I have to confess, now and then when I felt starved I did sneak in
an extra milk shake.  Each day, in fact!  They made me feel dizzy
at first, even a little nauseous.  Not terribly sweet, but
incredibly rich, I guess!  Strong stuff.  But the pounds started to
melt off me and I felt just great!

By Monday morning I was thinner.  "Not yet willowy," Debbie said,
pleased at how loose my pants were.  "But getting there!  Thus far
it's mostly loss of water.  Like when I'm finishing my period -- I
can lose four pounds overnight!  But we'll keep it up."  

I was in much better shape, too.  She wanted me to burn off my
incoming calories and tone up my body too while we were at it.  No
harm in that, so for exercise I joined her doing her aerobics
tapes, then her jazzercize tapes, then a tape teaching slow moves
like Tai Chi, all of them graceful, elegant, and delicate, feminine
even down to the ways we draped our fingers.  We did all three each
morning on arising, and they were strenuous.  We'd finish dripping
wet, but I felt much more limber and lithe almost immediately!  All
of the movements were intended for women, I realized, with lots of
the hip-thrusting and pelvic twisting that looks so wonderfully
seductive when done by a curvy woman.  And some swooping moves were
exquisitely refined, and took lots of practice to get coordinated. 
All three had lots of limp-wristed, elbows-to-the-ribs moves that
look so helpless when a girl does them.  They're not as easy as
you'd think, try them some time!  All kinds of unaccustomed muscles
come into play!

I couldn't keep up at first, until Debbie told me to quit thinking
and clunking like a man, to just think of myself as fluid and
graceful, to imitate the women on the tapes and go with the flow. 
"Be fey, sweetheart!  You were worried about seeming to be a
faggot?  Be one!  There's only me here!  Be a really pouffe fairy!" 
I tried, and it worked.  By the next session I'd learned how to
flow intead of just step, how to loosen my arms to form captivating
curves in the air when I danced, and how to tuck back my shoulder
and toss my head in that fetching way girls have.  Debbie was
turned on by a lot of what I did.  I seemed so much less boorish or
brusque, so much more sensitive, she said, even in some ways
endearingly coy.  The choreographies seemed to reveal a side of me
I hadn't wanted to let out before, one she found very attractive. 
True, all this was new, and I was feeling a little tentative about
it all.  Beginning to feel uncertain about other things too, in
fact.  Those mood swings from the milk shakes had kicked in, I
supposed.

She thought I looked so sweet when she saw me taking dainty short
steps instead of bold strides that she asked me to move that way
all day, wherever I went.  And the next day.  And afterward.  So I
did.  At first it felt a little femmy, but I got used to it.  And
if that was how I chose to move, that was that, whatever anyone
else thought.  None of their business!  Debbie loved it!  And I
loved her!

We went to the movies together that Sunday night.  By then I'd
learned another trick the tape told me would tighten my stomach
muscles, to walk by crossing one leg in front of the other with
each step, pointing my toes straight ahead.  It put a seductive
wiggle into my hips, I noticed, but I got it down pretty well.  I
worried that I looked too much like Stacy when she'd waved at the
camera with her ass, but Debbie told me it was subtle and
expressive and good for my abs, a dancer's move, not to worry.  So
I didn't.  Not even when after the movie, when we were crossing a
gloomy parking lot in the dark, and a man coming the other way who
could barely see us touched his hat and said, "Ladies" to reassure
us he was no threat.  He'd guessed that by the way our silhouettes
moved.  Debby was so amused she gave me a wonderfully reassuring
hug, as if we were in fact close girlfriends sharing a secret.  I
suppose we were.

She found this new high-toned, more sensitive-seeming me so
attractive that more than once we stopped running the exercise tape
and made love right there on the floor, sweaty as we were.  And
again in the shower afterward.  It was the loveliest weekend of my
life, as was the week that followed.  Debbie and I felt more deeply
wedded to each other than at any time previously!  I vowed to
myself to give her whatever she wanted.

                             iv.

On Monday I went in and reported on my sales trip to the boss.  She
was so pleased with the new customers I'd developed and with the
size of their orders that she told me to take two weeks off as a
bonus, then for another week or so just check up on them by phone
and fax, from home, as necessary.  

"Just so they know we care," she said.  "In another month maybe I'll 
want to send you out again for an even longer period.  But I don't 
want to wreck your home life, you're too valuable to us.  We don't 
want to risk anything that might demoralize you or your wife.  So stay
home now, and work from home for the present.  You've earned it!" 

I assured her that my home life has never been better.  I was
feeling just great!

Debby was absolutely thrilled when I told her at dinner about my
two weeks of paid leave followed by time spent at home.  At yogurt,
I guess I should say.  We were seated in the dining doom, eating a
cup each by candlelight.  I was twisting my spoon to make it last,
and thinking about maybe sneaking another extra milkshake from the
powder in the pantry after Debby retired for the night.  Though I'd
certainly be retiring with her, so we could spend another night
tangled together.  "That's perfect!" she said.  "Two weeks leave,
and then work from home!  Perfect!  I'll book a few days at the
Avalon Resort in the mountains for your birthday, that's exactly a
month from now.  And I'll take three weeks of the vacation time I'm
due, and I'll re-schedule myself for the last week.  Because now we
have the time we need to prepare you and then do it!"

"Prepare me for what?" I asked.  "Do what?"

"Prepare you to do what you said you'd do!  Surely you haven't
forgotten!  I asked Bruce today, and he's agreed!  He'll do it with
you whenever we feel ready, though he's set a few conditions. 
He'll be away for the next two weeks and he has other plans for
when he gets back, but luckily he's free from Friday all through
the Sunday of your birthday weekend.  So that's when we'll do it.
It's a shame you won't meet and get to know each other first, but
there'll be time enough.  We'll go to the Resort and I'll
introduce you there, and then when you're feeling familiar and
comfortable with each other you two can get it on to your heart's
content.  All weekend long if you like.  No fuss and no mess!"

"Get it on?  In only a month?  For a whole weekend?  I thought this
was for fifteen minutes!"  I was a little shocked.  I realized I
was thinking my upcoming loss of masculinity was like a major
operation, or like some extensive dental procedure, something to be
dreaded and put off, yet also something best done as quickly as
possible.  

"We've got a lot to do before then, Sam.  We've barely four weeks
to get you ready.  But then when you have a whole weekend to relax
with each other, you'll see, it'll be that much more enjoyable."

"A lot to do?  Do what?  Try not to think about it is what I mean
to do."

"Wrong, honey.  Just the reverse is what you'll need to do.  To
think about nothing but the Big Day!  Because when it happens, if
you're to be the way you'll want me to be, you'll have to feel
three things.  Horny, experienced, and desirable.  That'll take
most of our time between now and then.  The weeks you've got off
are just barely enough!"

Debbie was now looking at me with a determined gleam in her eye. 
I'd seen it a few times before, and I knew that there was no
stopping her in that state of stubborn certainty.  And she'd been
so pleased with me, and so ... rewarding, that I didn't want to
object to any of her plans.  "Yes.  But explain, please," was all
I dared say.

"Baby, you've got talent, I know that from watching you with that
banana, when you didn't have any feeling for it at all but I could
swear you were making passionate love to it.  And what you did with
my thumb the next morning clinched it.  And since then, whenever
you've found one of my fingers or toes -- don't think I haven't
noticed.  Well, this time you'll be making really passionate love
to a man's penis.  Something you're reluctant to do, I know. 
Something you've been conditioned and cautioned and inhibited
against ever since you were a little boy.  That's not easily
overcome!  But we want it done right, and done right the first
time!  Bruce will expect it.  You agree?"

"Yes," I said.  Because what else could I say? 

"So first of all, we need to help you feel eager to do it.  No
inhibitions!  Keen, really avid.  So there'll be no more sex with
me from now on, not until you've performed with Bruce
satisfactorily.  Is that agreed?"

"No more of everything we've been doing the last few days?"

"No more of any of it.  Not until afterward".

I decided to defer argument about that one.  "Debbie, what does
'satisfactorily' mean?  I mean to do what the video showed Stacy
doing, to the best of my ability.  That's all.  That's what we
agreed."

"Honey, Bruce agreed to be your partner sight unseen on my say so. 
And as you know, Bruce is a very special man.  He has no problem
finding the kinds of ... lovers he likes, and he takes on only
certain kinds.  Remember?  The kind that make the girls in our
office feel envious?  Well, when he agreed, he set certain
conditions, and I've told him there'll be no problem with them.  So
don't embarrass me by hedging at this late stage.  'Satisfactorily'
means he's satisfied.  He decides whether or not it's been done
right.  And he has very high standards."

This was appalling!  "Debbie," I said, "I agreed to suck Bruce's
cock so you'd be willing to suck mine now and then.  It's an odd
bargain, but it has a kind of logic, and it seems to be what you
need to dispel some sort of resentment that I want you to do it, so
I agreed, and that's what I agreed!  I certainly didn't agree to
serve as his Cock sucker-in-Training for some indeterminate period,
until he's finally willing to certify me!  That could take
forever!"

"I know.  It does look like an open-ended commitment, doesn't it? 
I can see why you're concerned.  You can see yourself kneeling in
front of him until you've gotten too old to see what's under your
nose and he's too old to remember.  Isn't that it?"

Debbie had an unerring ability to speak my mind when she chose to. 
And she was mocking me again, a little.  So I just smiled weakly
and nodded.

"But remember, I'll know.  I'll even be watching."

Somehow I hadn't considered that!  My wife would be there the
whole time?  She'd witness my humiliating submission?  She'd see
her man kissing the cock of another man!  That would change the way
she thinks about me altogether, for all time!  She'll never be able
to respect me as a man again, I thought.  Why does she want this? 

But then I realized that for Debbie, for some perverse reason, that
change in our relationship had already taken place in her mind,
just with my agreement to do it.  And that it was a huge change for
the better!  So I just nodded.  She went on.

"I've got the final determination.  If I see you dedicated to
pleasing him, and Bruce seems to me to be satisfied, then that's
what he is.  You'll have to satisfy me by what you do to him,
that's all.  That's what you'll want me to do with you, isn't it? 
Satisfy you?"

"Yes," I had to agree.  I didn't fully understand the implications
of what she'd just said, but it sounded reasonable.  Even so, this
somehow no longer sounded like our original agreement, and in
honesty I had to say so.  "I thought that just once would do it,
Debby.  Once is all it takes to make me a cock sucker.  One suck on
one cock and bingo, your straight husband is a pervert, a guy who
sucks cock.  And that's that!  Isn't that so?  Isn't that enough?"

"If that's all you want from me, baby.  But I think you want more
than that from me.  One suck doth not a satisfactory cock sucker
make, does it?  It takes technique and dedication.  You saw what
Stacy was doing, and even though it was only a banana you blew, you
know what's involved.  You'll want me to be a satisfactory cock
sucker for you too, won't you?  Isn't that so?"

"I guess."  I was beginning to be sorry I'd ever asked her to go
down on me. 

"And didn't we make this a quid pro quo?  I do what I'm not pleased
to do because you've already done what you're not pleased to do?"

"That's certainly true, yes."

"And we do it with our whole hearts?"

"Yes.  I guess."

"Then you'll do everything you can to satisfy him.  And he's a pro,
in a manner of speaking.  Oral sex is a big part of his sex life. 
So you'll have to meet some pretty high standards.  Do you
understand now?"

"Yes.  I think."  Why was it that everything simple I agreed to
became complicated once Debbie explained it?                      
                                          

"That means among other things you'll really have to *want* to
satisfy him.  Really be eager to please him!  That cock will have
to be the only thing in your life when you take it into your mouth,
and his happiness your only happiness.  You'll have to be sincere,
in other words.  Because he'll be able to tell.  That's what I
meant by 'horny'."

"How do I get to want to do with him what I want you to do with
me?"

"Don't worry, honey, I'll help.  I have some ideas, even apart from
the main ones, and all of them are meant to get you feeling as hard
up as I can get you.  So you'll dedicate your whole soul to him, if
only to get back in bed with me!"

No deferring that issue any longer!  "*Back* in bed?  We really
won't even be sleeping in the same bed?"

Instead of answering, she reached for my cock.  It was still in my
pants, but it firmed up as soon as she began to squeeze it, then
stood solid as a rock.  She began to stroke it.  It throbbed.  

"Mmmmmmm!  That's nice!  But now I'll leave you like this.  Horny,
eager to give in order to get."  She took her hand away.  "See?"

This was cruel!  But this was a new Debbie, too, and I can't say I
wasn't responsible!  "Debbie!" I pleaded.  "I've really been
looking forward to tonight, to more of what we've done all weekend.

"No, not even to help you make a mess in your panties now, lover. 
Not until you're my sweet, certified cock sucker.  That's when I'll
be yours!"

"Well, you've sure taken care of the motivation part of this deal,"
I said, already feeling frustrated.  "No sex with you until I can
please this Bruce of yours, or at least convince you I've done it."

"Sam, lets be very clear about this.  You won't please Bruce until
you really and truly want to please Bruce.  A satisfied Bruce has
to be your most ardent desire, your whole purpose in life.  You'll
need to love him sincerely, devotedly, totally!  It's more than
just a matter of behaving a certain way.  Any whore can fake
desire.  You'll have to mean it!  Do you really want to satisfy
him?"

"No, frankly.  This is for you, not for him.  But if you want me
to, I'm willing to try."

"All right.  It's a beginning.  But we have a lot of work ahead of
us.  Teaching you how to want to please a man!"

"What kind of work?"  This had started out as a brief ordeal to be
lived through and forgotten.  Now it was beginning to look like a
lifetime employment.

"For one thing, giving you pride in your abilities.  Sophisticated
skills.  Improving your techniques.  Getting enough experience with
cocks and with sucking on them so you're comfortable and familiar
with their different shapes and how they feel."  She paused.  I
could tell what that pause meant.  Then it came.  "Learning how
different men respond differently to different approaches, until
the right techniques become second nature.  So you'll know
instinctively what to do with Bruce's penis when the time comes." 

I looked at her.  I had no idea what my facial expression was
telling her, but I saw hers settle into a hard, unyielding mask.
anticipating my objections and ready to stick by her statement. 
"Different men?" was all I asked.

"You know perfectly well what I said," she replied coldly.  "Bruce
gave me the name of a bar where you can get a lifetime of
experience in only one night, if you're diligent and use
your time well."

"This was to have been only one cock, one time," I reminded her
solemnly.

"A big league cock," she replied.  "You aren't even a bush leaguer,
yet.  Sam, I don't hear enthusiasm in your voice.  I don't see you
leaning forward toward all the challenges.  You aren't eager to
learn this new skill and learn to enjoy your virtuosity!  You told
me you'd come to the realization that it's an art form!"

"When I was watching Stacy cock suck Chuck," I corrected her.
"She's the artist.  I'm not."

"You will be.  You'll have to be, won't you?  Just think of it this
way.  We're sending you to art school to bring out whatever talent
you've got.  You supply the dedication.  Talent is a gift.  I
really do hope you've got it.  I really don't want to lose this new
you.  The last few days have been the happiest of my life, Sam. 
And the most promising."  

I had nothing to say.  I had, after all, initiated this whole
thing, and I had agreed to go first.  What I was willing to do was
a done deal.  The only remaining questions were how good did I have
to be, and how would I get that way.  And the answers to those were
settled in Debbie's mind.  I had no alternative ideas.  I had to go
with Debbie's.

"They've been the happiest for me too,"  I replied.  Debbie's face
relented, and she smiled almost gratefully.  "Worth it.  Worth
whatever they need to cost me!" I added.  In for a penny, I
thought, in for a pound.  "Worth anything!"

At that she flew into my arms.  I held her close.  I kissed her
face everywhere I could reach, when she had stopped sobbing her joy
into my shoulder.  I was consoling her!  Amazing!  My cock began to
harden again.  Better not, I thought.  Not if somehow I have to
work up a strong desire to suck off Bruce.  And a small voice in my
head now added, 'And lots of other guys first."  

Debbie felt my bulge and rubbed her belly against it.  "I love
you," she said simply.

"Must we do this?"  I asked her?

"That's why I love you," she added.  "Because you're willing to do
this.  You're incredible!" 

I had no reply to that.  "Anything else?"  I asked.  I hoped that
we were done.  I had a difficult few weeks ahead of me,
brainwashing myself to make love to a guy, more than one guy, a
whole saloonful of queers it looked like.

"Only one other thing.  It's something that'll make everything else
much easier," Debbie said.  "In fact it might even give you the
same kind of pleasure Stacy gets.  The kind I'll get, I hope, when
I finally go down on you, sweetheart."

She remained in my arms, hers arms around my neck as if she were
reluctant to let go.  I felt her breasts pressing against my chest,
warm and pillowy.  Her belly slid against my raging cock yet again. 
I couldn't help it, I pivoted my own hips ever so slightly up and
across its softness.  But she didn't pull away.  Her eyes looked
steadily into mine while she waited for me to ask.

"What other thing?" I asked.

"You'll need to look desirable to Bruce, or he won't be
interested."

"I'm not now desirable?  You said he agreed to do it!"

"Conditionally."

"What's the condition?"  How bad could it be, after everything else
I'd just heard.

"Sweetheart," she said, still watching my face while her belly slid
and rotated across my cock. "You remember what I told you about
Bruce's dates, those gorgeous girls who come to the office to meet
him when they're en route together to some cocktail bar and dinner
and who knows what else?

"The girls who are guys underneath.  Or used to be guys.  Yes, I
remember."  

She just continued to look at me, silent.  Did her mouth curl ever
so slightly?  She waited.  Finally I saw what she meant, and I felt
a surge of pure terror!

"No!!"  I said.  

"Yes!" she said.  "We'll need to make you over into one of those
girls."  And she closed her eyes and tightened her arms around my
neck, and pulled me down to her face, her red lips partly open. 
"You want what Bruce wants, and that's what Bruce wants.  I want it
too!  I want you to!  You'll need to, if you're to manage all the
rest!  You'll be a girl when you give him head, and that's why
you'll love it!  That's why you'll do it so well!  You'll be
sensational!  It'll be fabulous!  You'll be so beautiful, darling!"

And she covered my mouth with hers, and I felt her tongue thrust
into my mouth.  Her arms now clamped our faces together, her hands
on the back of my head, holding me immovable.  I could say nothing. 
I sucked instinctively on her tongue.  She pressed her belly closer
against me and rotated it inexorably, and I felt a slow rise of
desire and pleasure there.  I couldn't stop it.  My pleasure
overflowed!  Pure joy!  And my penis erupted!  Spasms!  Bliss!

I couldn't help myself!  I came!  My cock throbbed against her
belly and pumped cum into my underwear.  I was sure she could feel
me pulsing, maybe even feel the wet spot slowly spreading out, yet
she never stopped pressing her belly snug against me.  It was odd,
that orgasm into my pants.  A feeling of fulfillment yet impotence,
of filling an erotic need and yet emptying one, of squirting at
random, of rapturous discharge into ... nothing.  She wanted me to
become a girl!  Is that what it would feel like?  Our kiss went on
and on.  Her belly slid on my softening prick.

Finally she eased the pressure of her arms on my neck just a
little, and I pulled away from her until our noses barely touched. 
In the afterglow of my climax I had come to a decision.  No way! 
This had gone too far.  I would have to break it to her.
                        

"I'm sorry!" I began, in a firm whisper.  I had to tell her that I
meant to bug out altogether.  This was the most precious darling
girl in the world, my wife, and I loved her past reckoning, and to
deepen and secure our relationship I was now reconciled to sucking
off her faggot office manager and first whoever else it took to
learn how to do the job right.  But no way was I going to become a
girl who was once a man!  My voice choked, and I was tearful, but
I had to say it!  "I never intended to go this far...," I began.

What would have happened if Debbie had understood what I was about
to say?  Did she in fact understand it but refuse to acknowledge
it?  I won't ever know now.  She interrupted what was to have been
my farewell speech with a speech of her own.

"It's all right, baby, it's all right!" she said consolingly, still
rubbing her belly against me.  "Don't be sorry!  Be glad!  I'm
really delighted that the idea excites you so much that your penis
explodes at the very thought!  It excites me too!  It's the most
exciting thing I can imagine!  My darling husband, my soul mate, my
partner for life, agreeing to look like a girl for me.  And live 
like one until it feels so natural he almost thinks that's what he 
is!  Giving up his manhood for me!  Because he wants to feel closer 
to me!  Did any man ever do such a thing for his wife before now?  
It's just awesome!"

"No, Debbie, that's not what ..." I started to say again, trying to
correct her.  But she took that as the answer to her question, and
continued as if I hadn't spoken at all.

"All right, apparently giving up his manhood!  That's an even
bigger sacrifice in some ways!  Doing whatever's necessary to seem
to be a real girl when she sucks off her man.  Not some sissy cock
sucker, not just one more queer, but to seem to be an actual
voluptuous girl, desirable and desiring!  And all because that's
what I want him to be!"

She looked me up and down, delighted.

"To please me!  Oh, sweetheart, it'll take weeks of hard work, but
I know you'll do it beautifully!  I can tell by the way you move to
my exercise tapes!  You're a born girl!  Or very nearly!  Don't be
sorry about soaking your undershorts, precious!  That's the last
time you'll ever wear those bulky things anyway.  We'll replace
them with beautiful, beautifully trim satin and nylon and lace
panties you'll prefer to wear by far, and you can cum into any of
those any time your darling heart desires!  That's what they'll be
for!  Or cum into me, through any opening your heart desires, when
all this is over!  And we'll buy you exquisite bras to match!  And
slips, and dresses, and ... everything!  You'll be stunning!  A
perfect girl!  You'll adore it!  And I'll adore you!"  

It was a filibuster.  No room to get words in edgewise.  She went
on and on, and not once did her hips pause in their slow rolling
against my crotch.  My prick never had a chance to lose its
tumescence.  It softened a little, then began growing again.

"Oh, it'll be so wonderful!  I do hope you'll learn to love being
a girl even after we're finished with Bruce, so we can do other
things together, go out together both of us and enjoy ourselves 
being two women out together, live our lives together...."

"Debbie!"  I tried again.  But she was lost.  She had drifted in
her imagination into another world where I was already a woman,
never letting go of me the whole time.  She held me tightly,
lovingly, around the neck.  I'd already agreed to give up a large
part of my manhood.  I'd agreed to become a cock sucker for her,
not just once for this one guy Bruce but for lots of others, to
train myself for the main event.  And psych myself up to *want* to
do it!  Would there be any of the old me left anyhow?  And what had
she said -- that if I was a girl the cock sucking part of it would
be much easier?  That was probably true.  When a girl goes down on
a man, she's even more of a girl, she doesn't lose any part of
herself.  Girls enjoy it!  They're completed by it!   Isn't that
what I'd argued to Debbie?  And now here Debbie was, her body
pressed against mine, her face turned up to mine, her red lips
moist and parted, her eyes closed, telling me the same thing. 
Waiting for my reply.  I kissed her.  And with that kiss I was
lost.

                             v.

My training began at once.  

When we disentangled our arms from one another, Debbie stood back
and looked at me.  "I do so want to wrap myself around you
sweetheart, and never let you go.  But from now on, we both deny
ourselves!  You don't come near me, except maybe to hug me the way
girlfriends hug each other.  You don't come near any climax that
Bruce or the thought of Bruce doesn't excite in you.  I'll get you
a picture of him so you can masturbate looking fondly at him, if
you must.  But only while thinking about him.  You're his,
physically, from now on.  I want you to be so hard up in only one
month that you'll do him rapturously in order to get me ready to do
you!  You'll do him because he wants you to do him, the way you
wanted me to do you!  Because that's what you want to do, because
he's so handsome and you're so much in love with the idea.  I want
you so smitten by him that if he were to ask you to do it, you'd do
a whole barnyard of animals "  She paused, and her face took on a
mischievous expression.  "Or you'd let a whole barnyard of animals
do you!"

"Thanks!" was all I could say to any of that.

"Oh, you'll thank me, honey!  Take my word for it!  You will!  But
meanwhile I need to thank you!  This is better than anything I'd
ever dreamed I'd have when we first got married.  I knew you were
a love!  But a darling husband who lets me remake him into anything
I want?  Into a cock sucker?  Into a Barbie doll?  Into a cock
sucking Barbie doll?  How many girls have one of those?"

Was it too late to retrieve myself?  I needed clarification. 
"Bruce will want me to look like a girl when I do him, I understand
that, Debbie," I began.

"The same as you'll want me to look like a girl when I do you,
Sammy honey!  Isn't that right?  So let's get started"  

"But you want that too?  For me to look like a girl when I do him?"

"That's what I want too.  That's right.  That's what I want you to
be for me too.  Right now, and from now on.  Believe me,
sweetheart, it will not injure our relationship for me to see you
looking like a girl!  It'll make things better in many ways.  It'll
bring us closer, because I'll feel you understand me better as a
woman.  That as a woman you understand me better.  That you're my
husband-wife.  My girlfriend-sister.  I'll love it!"   

"Debbie, what do you mean, 'from now on'?"

"Sweetheart, one day at a time.  I think we can each decide later
what it is we want to see happen later."

That made sense.  

"All right, then," I said.

"All right!" she replied."  Did I hear a trace of elation in her
voice?  "Now, for these next weeks you're a girl.  We'll do
everything we can to make you look like one.  You'll live, talk,
and think like one, and you'll need to forget that you were ever
anything else.  Do you agree?  Can you do that?  Do you see how it
has to be all or nothing, and all at once?"  

"Yes."

"No arguments about whether we're going too fast?  Or too far?"  

"No, Debbie.  I'll do whatever you think best."

"You give me your word on that?"

I thought I'd better be wary.  Limit the agreement.  "For the next
four weeks, yes.  No arguments.  You have my word."

"Good.  So why don't you strip naked right now, honey, and we'll
begin.  Right here.  A girl shouldn't be wearing those clothes. 
They're too mannish."

There was no reaching her.  And no going back.  I undid my belt
buckle.  A minute later I was peeling off my sticky, soaked
underpants and stood naked in front of her.

She was thinking out loud.  "I guess first, we'll need to get rid
of all that hair.  Let's go to the bathroom and we'll depillate
you.  Make your body as sweet and smooth as mine.  Take those wet
panties with you.  In fact, stuff the soaked parts into your mouth
right now.  It'll save on needless conversation and it'll start you
getting accustomed to the flavor."

I looked at the sticky mess of broadcloth in my hands, my
reluctance obvious.

"Sam!  If you won't do what your dearest girl friend tells you,
I'll have to order you to do it as your wife, and then get much
more severe!  For your own good!  You agreed to all this!  And I
like telling men what to do, and I know how to get them to do it! 
By whatever means!  Hold that in mind!  That's how I get things
done at work, and not only at work!"

I started to cram my undershorts into my mouth, not altogether
understanding her.

"Wet places first, please," she said as if she were a schoolmarm
talking to an unruly child.  I took out whatever I'd managed to
shovel into my mouth.

"Yes ma'am!" I said with defiant irony.  Debbie said nothing.  She
simply waited.  

This time I crammed it in cum first.  It was all still tacky, and
not as warm as when it was next to my body. Mostly it was just
cloth, and the sticky stuff was a little like the warm egg whites
I'd tasted from her gravy baster?  A lot like that stuff in the
gravy baster, in fact.  No fishy flavor, but about as slick. 
Saltier?  A bit bitter?  A hint of ammonia or chlorine?  And what
else was there in it, not unpleasant, but unfamiliar?

"You'll get used to the flavor of sperm soon enough, honey," Debbie
said, as if she could read my mind.  "You'll have to.  All sorts of
that delicious cock-cream you're always urging on me.  If you're
good at your new job, that is!"  

Then she added, and I couldn't tell if she was being sincere or
ironic, "Feel grateful whenever you taste it, baby.  Learn to love
it!  A man's semen coating the inside of your mouth or discharged
down your throat will have to seem to you altogether natural,
usual, and customary.  Because it'll mean a job well done.  Every
reason for you to feel proud of yourself.  That's the kind of pride
that makes a girl into a woman -- we'll just have to see what it
makes you!  You heard what the girl in the video said.  Sperm is
your reward for finally bringing your man off!  It's the proof of
the pudding!  It *is* the pudding, isn't it!  Eat and enjoy!  Now
let's get started!"

I couldn't answer her, of course, with my mouth filled with cummy
cloth.  

An hour later I was standing in the guest bedroom looking down at
a nightie she'd laid out for me to wear to bed.  I was a girl in a
man's body, and that was that!  A hairless body.  My skin
was bare everywhere below the eyebrows.  Even my prick and balls
were naked, looking rather lonely and pathetic hanging there as if
a little out of place.  When finally Debbie'd let me take my
cum-soaked shorts out of my mouth, I'd asked her "Why no hair down
there?  No one but you will ever see me there?"  She'd replied
simply, "You never know."

Then she'd had me rub body lotion all over me, to soothe the
irritated skin and help me feel smoother.  "A girl's skin should
feel the way yours felt before your adolescence," she said. 
"You'll get back to that as you develop, but meanwhile you'll need
to use creams and lotions several times each day.

"Develop?" I asked?

"Look your best.  And feel good about the way you look.  Don't
worry about it," she said.  She then sprayed me with cologne.  The
lotions were soothing, and I have to admit that even the
coarsest-feeling parts of my body -- my arms, for example -- now
felt velvety.  But now I smelled like a flower garden.  The way she
always smelled.  I commented on that.

"Tomorrow we go shopping," she said.  "You'll choose your own 
signature scent and then stick with it -- an aroma that seems
fresh during the day but a little heavier and more romantic in the
evening."  Now she was putting my hair up in rollers.  "Your scent
is what your men will remember about you when you move from one to
another.  These rollers?  They're so you can look pretty tomorrow. 
Tomorrow we'll get your hair done so you won't need to sleep
wearing rollers again.  Something as pretty but more practical. 
After tonight you'll appreciate that too."  

"My men?  You mean the guys I'm supposed to practice on before I
get to Bruce? 

"Those too," she replied, distracted.  She was staring at my chest. 
Almost absent-mindedly, she reached out and touched a nipple.  I
jumped.  It was so sensitive!  Erotic desire shot through me!  
"So soon," she said mostly to herself. "Who'd have thought it?  
You do have a talent for this, Sam!"  Then abruptly, "Good 
Night, sweetie!"  

She shut the door.  I slipped the nightie over my head.  It felt
wonderful on my bare skin.  Then once in bed I realized I'd have to
lie almost immobile on my back to keep the hair rollers from poking
into unaccustomed parts of my head.  So I kept real still, and
eventually managed to get to sleep.

When I woke the next morning Debbie was already beside me, sitting
by my bedside, reading.  As I turned my head toward her I felt
those curlers pressing on my scalp.  How did I get into this?  A
chain sequence.  To get Debbie to go down on me whenever I wanted
I had to go down on a guy once, looking like a girl when I did it,
and I had to be good so I had to practice on a few other guys
first.  All in a few weeks.  Thinking of it all at once like that
it seemed a little scary, because it was all new, but it wasn't too
bad a deal I thought, not too difficult.  With a lifetime's reward! 
It will be easier, I thought, if for the next weeks I really try to
forget who I am.  Put my manhood on hold.  Be an actor.  Pretend
I'm a girl who loves to hold a prick in her mouth.

"Good morning, Samantha," Debbie greeted me brightly.  'Did you
sleep well?"

"Samantha," I repeated.  It figured.  "Why yes, thank you," I
replied.  "It's so very sweet of you to ask!  I slept just
marvelously!"  

I thought I sounded like Scarlet O'Hara.  I didn't mean for it to
sound swish ironic, but that's how Debbie heard it.  "It is indeed,
Sam.  Most women are wakeful the first night they try to sleep with
their hair set in rollers, and they look terrible the next day.  
They get used to it, but it's one of the sacrifices they make for
men that men never know about.  One of many.  I think you might
appreciate my concern for you a little more sincerely.  I do love
you, you know.  You may not believe this, but everything we're
doing here is because of that!"

I felt chastened.  "I'm sorry, Debbie," I said.  "A little.  I know
that women are always saying 'How very sweet!' and 'It's just
darling!' and 'How adorable!' and things like that men never say. 
I was trying to fake it, yes.  But it felt good saying it.  Kind of
liberating to be able to say it.  Because it *was* sweet of you to
ask!"   

That pleased her enormously.  "Well, Samantha darling, it's sweet
of you to admit that.  I think there's a chance that this just
might work out.  We're being women full time now, remember, from
now at least until we come back from our weekend at the Avalon, so
there is nothing inappropriate you can do that pertains to being a
woman, and nothing appropriate you can do that pertains to being a
man.  Remember that."

I nodded solemnly.  I wasn't a good enough actor to act out being
a girl, I decided.  Pretending won't persuade anybody.  So I'll try
to do it her way.  

"From now on you'll want to do feminine things with no hesitation,
Samantha, and surrender yourself into them, and feel natural about
it.  Even pleased.  You'll see.  It'll be a little like walking
through a narrow door into a widening corridor leading finally
outside to a different world.  A woman's world.  Liberating
yourself -- your word, baby -- into that world.  I think it's a
wonderful world.  You'll see for yourself.  Today you pass through
the door.  Here, let me show you how to wrap a turban around your
hair so we can do our exercises.  We'll do them naked.  There'll
only be us girls here, right?  You're one of us now, remember
that!"

It felt strange high-stepping and weaving my shoulders and shaking
my bootie and my chest with all those women on the tape, all the
while completely nude, Debbie right next to me doing the same thing
in her deliciously girl way, also nude.  I saw that her slim waist
curved to wide hips with her pussy plumb in the middle, and her
firm-breasts gently bobbled with each hop or twist or step.  The
girls on the tape had the same proportions even though their bodies
were held firm by leotards or tank suits.  

There was a full-length mirror on the wall of our game room.  I
could see that I needed still more fluidity, more grace, in
comparison with the other girls, and I tried harder.  The TV girls
in spandex and Debbie in her skin were all round places and
graceful bulges and cute curves.  By the end of the session I was
beginning to feel vaguely that I was the wrong shape -- too skinny,
straight-as-a-stick, my waistline too large for my hips, my hips
too narrow to swing wide around both sides of my groin the way the
girls' hips did.  And while my shoulders weren't too broad -- they
never had been -- I was flat-chested.  I had none of the
beautifully curving mounds the TV girls showed proudly, nor was my
flesh hanging softly down, yet uplifted to large pink nipples like
Debbie's.  Only jouncing balls and a floppy cock.  I felt somehow
wrong, as far as dancing to the exercise tapes went.  Debbie and
the other girls looked impressive whether standing or moving.  
Neatly composed.  I looked unattractive.

When we were finished and dripping with sweat and heading for the
shower, I commented on it.  "I see I've got to work on my figure,"
I said, a little self-amused.  Debbie, still breathing hard, only
glanced at me and said nothing.  She gave me a plastic bubble 
shower cap to protect my hairdo, still in rollers, but as we were 
getting out and drying off she commented, "You're right.  You might 
be a little more attractive to Bruce if you were a little rounder 
in the right places, that's true.  Certainly you'd be more attractive
to me. And to yourself!  We can't do everything in a month, but I can
speed what's under way already, honey.  Would you like me to?"

What would a female reply to that be?  Could a woman refuse an
offer that was kindly intended?  "I'd like that very much, Debbie. 
You're a dear.  But you don't have to."

"Oh, I really want to," Debbie said with a smile.  "But this time
you better mean it.  Is today too soon?"

"For what, Debbie?"

"To arrange for a little more rounding in the right places."  She
watched me closely.  

My reply was casual, because I'd merely been registering how my
shape compared with everyone else's I'd seen this morning, none of
them male.  My standard of comparison had to be female.  "I don't
mind, if it can get me through this trial period with less hassle,"
I replied.  "Sure!"  It seemed to me that a little more rounding
meant I'd be getting a little more to eat.  At least an honest
second milkshake each day.  I didn't like sneaking the extras, so
far three days out of three.  "Would I be allowed two of those diet
milkshakes?"  

"It's possible.  They'd help.  I have a doctor in mind -- I'll ask
her.  You're showing exceptional response after only three days,
and I don't want any harm to come to you, sweetheart.  But I know
she can also help improve your figure another way, by
redistributing some of your fat cells.  Take a few away from here
and put them there.  Just enough to hint an improvement in your
figure.  If you'd feel much better about yourself I'll arrange it. 
You wouldn't mind?"

"No, of course not."  What harm could there be in that?

"Lovely!" 

That settled, whatever it was we'd settled, I asked Debbie what our
plans were for the morning.  

She looked surprised.  "Didn't I tell you?  We're going to Vita's
in about an hour.  Then we'll have lunch out.  Your first excursion
into the public eye as a girl.  We'll be two women out together
enjoying a bite to eat -- it'll be such fun!  You'll find that when
other people think you're a woman, and you know they do, it'll be
easier for you to believe it yourself.  Especially when other women
think you're a woman, because we're all a kind of universal support
and reassurance group for each other.  So it'll be good for you. 
Like the exercises, it'll help you develop a feminine self-image."

"I guess."

"What we'll really want of course is for you to feel more like a
woman when men think you're a woman.  For you to develop that part
of your feminine self-image too!  To feel shivers or to glow when
you know a man's admiring you.  A little flirting with those brutes
can be lots of fun!"  She smiled now, and looked up at me wickedly. 
"That'll take a little longer for you to get into.  But maybe not. 
Maybe we'll both be surprised!  Are you sure you never wanted to
kiss a fella or toy with his affections?"  Now she grinned broadly,
openly teasing me.  After all, what was flirting, when I'd already
committed to heavy duty sex with Bruce?  A kind of sex, anyhow.

I nodded.  "I'm sure.  Though I suspect that when you're finished
with me I won't be so sure.  Who's Vita?"

"Our hairdresser.  Mine, now ours.  You'll need a cut and perm and
styling, if you're to escape the drudgery of setting your hair
every night and then sleeping on rollers.  I promised you last
night, remember?"

"A perm?  Is that necessary?  It sounds so ... permanent."  I
wanted to cooperate, but I was a little worried about overdoing
this kick Debbie was on.  I had a life to live after this month of
trying to be a girl who was being trained to be a cock sucker.

"Of course a permanent.  With a perm, hair holds its curl better,
and soft waves last longer.  What I have in mind for you is a crown
of curls, and waves bordering them at the neckline, very simple,
comb it with your fingers or brush it upswept for sophisticated
evening wear.  Easy to care for yet flexible.  I think your hair is
just long enough."

"But will it come out?  Can it be undone afterward?"

Debbie's face turned serious, a warning sign that I'd overstepped
myself.  "Anything can be undone afterward, Sam.  Even marriages,
when people don't keep their promises to each other.  You should be
thinking 'A perm?  Marvelous!  I'll look so pretty afterward!' 
Suppose you say that right now."

I did.

"Good.  One day at a time, remember?  Later is later and afterward
is afterward.  Right now you're a girl, and girls expect to remain
girls all their lives.  Don't they?"

"Yes," I said.

"Now suppose you get dressed so we can do your hair and make-up and
show you to the world."

I decided to keep quiet.  She'd do whatever she meant to do, that
was coming clear.  The clothes she'd laid out for me were simple:
a wide denim skirt gathered to a shaped waist band -- she called it
a "yoke", and told me to learn the language of fashion as soon as
possible -- and a pink, lace-trimmed blouse with a boat neck, with 
a powder blue cardigan to match the skirt.  She herself was wearing 
slacks and an oversized sweater, nothing feminine at all.  I wondered 
why she wasn't giving me the same for my first day out, but I didn't 
dare ask.  I suppose it was part of her "all or nothing" approach to my
re-education as a female.  

I mentioned that.  She replied, "That's right!  I know who I am,
Samantha.  You obviously don't yet know who you are!  By the end of
today there'll be no confusing you with a man, not by me, maybe not
even by you.  That's my intention!  Not that I ever really did
confuse you with a man!"  

I flinched.  There was a gratuitous insult, implying what about our 
marriage?  What did she mean?!  She saw I was hurt by that crack, 
that even though I was supposed to be a girl, I wasn't there yet.  
So she then added more gently, "I'm sorry, that wasn't necessary.  
But do try to think you were always a girl, never a man, honey!  
Remember, you aren't quite the real thing.  Soon.  The more like a 
girl you dress, the more likely it is that people will be persuaded 
that's what you are, and the less they'll wonder about little manly 
oddities in the way you behave.  Here, put these on first."

She handed me a stretch girdle with removable foam pads on the hips
and over the cheeks, tight in the crotch, no concession whatever
made to male genitals.  I looked at it.  Here was an instant
figure!  Then she handed me a heavy-duty padded bra.  "We'll take
out the foam pads in the girdle and bra later," she said.  I asked
her why?

"If we visit Sandra after Vita, you won't need them," she replied. 
This was incomprehensible, but Debbie was already annoyed by my
foot-dragging, and she was in charge, so I went with it.  Somehow,
I'd expected something flimsy, wispy, some pretty feminine nothings
for my first undies, and I said so as inoffensively as I could.

For the first time she grinned.  "Sweetheart, you'll have plenty of
those when you've got pretty feminine somethings to put in them. 
Today you'll need firm support, things that really grip and shape
you.  Trust me."

Did I have a choice?  I sat down at her dressing table and she
swiftly undid the rollers.  It was miraculous!  Three strokes of a
hairbrush and my hair uncoiled into springy, swooping waves piled
high on my head, no sign of a curl.

"That's very nice," I volunteered timorously.  "I didn't know
that's what hair rollers did."

"It *is* becoming," Debbie agreed, looking at my sculpted hair in
the mirror.  "But too much trouble.  And if someone were to use it
to guide your mouth where he wants it, it wouldn't look neat any
more.  Later when the hairdo I have in mind for you grows out, you
can try this one again if you like.  That'll be up to you."

I didn't like the sound of that reference to 'later,' but decided
she meant only what she'd said earlier, that I'd decide things for
myself again when this month's ordeal ended.  She quickly stroked
lipstick and eye liner on me -- "Your face will be remade at
Vita's," she said.  I didn't look half bad, I must say!  She then
made up her own face much more carefully, adding mascara, blush,
and other cosmetics I have never thought she needed -- her bare
face always looked beautiful enough to me.  I told her that, and
she beamed, but then told me coquettishly to watch her do her
makeup in order to learn how.  An amusing thought!  She then handed 
me open sandals and a purse, and said, "There!  Now to go meet the 
world!  Remember, when you walk, glide.  Flow.  Don't stride.  You'll 
pass.  But if you don't, they're wrong.  You're a woman no matter what
anyone thinks, right?"

I glimpsed myself in the mirror. "I guess so," I said, astonished. 
My eyes looked bigger, my lips cuter, and my face smaller under the
swirling waves above it.  When I went out the front door with
Debbie I was a conflicted mess of bravado, cringing fear, modest
pride that I looked as good as I did, and a twinge of sadness at
something I seemed to have lost or misplaced somewhere back at the
house.

                               vi.

Debbie drove. Other drivers and their passengers glanced at us from
time to time, but saw nothing wrong, and I began to relax -- this
was not a day for feeling humiliated after all.  We had to park a
block away from Vita's and walk among many other pedestrians.  I
glided, elbows at my sides, and it went fine.

"Don't make eye contact with men," Debbie advised, noticing that I
was checking out the passers-by to see if they noticed me.  "Lots
of them won't leave you alone once you look them in the eye.  But
with women, feel free.  We all understand each other."  It was
true.  I smiled at one, then another, and they both smiled back. 
That never happened to me when I was a man.  They'd have frowned,
most of them.  Maybe looked for a cop!

She introduced me to Vita, who handed me off to a young woman in a
purple smock named Allison and went off to chat with Debbie for a
while.  Then Vita returned.  "Debbie's gone shopping and arranging
other things," she said.  "But we know what you want.  Just relax
and enjoy being pampered!"  Then she disappeared.  

During the next several hours young girls came, did things to me,
and disappeared, but I never saw Vita again that day.  Allison
seemed to be in charge.  She seemed a little hostile.  I said so to
her.

"Mister," she said.  "I shouldn't say this, and Vita would kill me
if she ever found out.  But I don't know why you're doing this.  It
does seem to me an invasion of womynspace, and I resent it.  I
mean, why do you men have to colonize and appropriate even the way
we look and dress?

I told her that my wife wanted me to look and dress like a woman,
and I had agreed to do it.

"Really?  Why in the world would any woman want you to do that?"  

I decided a frontal attack was the only way to deal with this
feminist.  "So I'll look like a girl when I go down on a man she
knows, to suck on his cock.  Which I've agreed to do because that's
what she wants."

Allison was silent for a long time.  Then finally, "Wow!" she said. 
"That's some penance!  You must have done something really bad, you
and maybe that man too!  I mean, to get two birds with one stone! 
Humiliating both of you, making you do that.  I've got to admire a
woman like that!"

I decided not to straighten her out.  I wasn't sure I should
explain to her that it was all so my wife would agree to suck on my
cock.  She wouldn't approve, even given the price Debbie had
exacted from me.  

Allison cut and snipped and rolled and sprayed and poured onto my
hair carefully and thoughtfully, while a manicurist came and went,
then a "colorist," then someone who punctured my ear lobes and hung
a small hoop in each.  Then a make-up artist came, and spent a long
time doing my lips and eyes.  I said nothing.  I was determined not
to worry the short-term, long-term implications of dyed hair and
pierced ears.  I reconciled myself to whatever Debbie had decided
-- she was in charge for now.  I no longer wondered how I'd return
to my normal appearance afterward.  I'd manage.  Now was not the
time to feel concerned.  Later.

"There you are," Allison said finally, whipping a pale purple sheet
off me and turning me toward the mirror.  "I told everyone what
your wife is doing to you, and they were all impressed.  So they've
all done their best work on you!  It's a wonderful idea!  I've got
to find a way to get my boyfriend to do that to my ex!  He's been
two-timing me, and I was just about ready to throw him out!  But
this is much better!  Awesome!  First change him, then throw him
out!  Talk about a kissoff?  Well!  Aren't you the gorgeous girl
now?"

I looked into the mirror.  I was!  Allison had taken my moderate
length sandy colored hair and converted it into a cute mop of
streaky-blonde curls.  And the others had remade my face from the
bare skin on out, and added tips to my fingernails and then painted
them the color of my lipstick.  Even my beard shadow was gone,
buried under an invisible foundation and blush.  An attractive girl
looked at me from the mirror.

But after the first shock of recognition -- that's really me? --
I forgot my mirror image.  I was suddenly concerned by Allison's 
assumption that Debbie meant only to humiliate me and Bruce en 
route to a kissoff.  That she wanted to end our marriage!  Why?  
Was Debbie that duplicitous?!  

"Yes, she certainly is!"  I heard Debbie's voice behind me.  "She
certainly is the gorgeous girl now!  You've outdone yourself,
Allison!  I never thought Samantha would finish that pretty! 
Samantha, you can't imagine how many marvelous things I've bought
for you!  I know you'll love them!  I can't wait till we get home
so you can try them on!  But now we need to go to lunch, and I've
made a 3:00pm appointment for you at the clinic.  Remember, you
wanted to look just a little more rounded, a little more
appropriate?  Well, you're about to get your wish!"

Allison's eyes opened even wider when she heard that, but she said
nothing.  Debbie offered Allison a large tip, and to her
astonishment Allison refused it.  "I can only admire what you're
doing," Allison told Debbie solemnly.  "And I wish you every
success!  You're an inspiration!"

As we walked to our restaurant, halfway back to the car, Debbie
asked me what that was all about, and I told her.  I then asked her
if she was doing this to punish me, and maybe Bruce too.  Whether
this was in fact what Allison assumed it was, a humiliating kissoff!
"Do I know everything you're really doing, Debbie?" I asked her, 
near tears?

I asked that last question in a low, intense, and worried voice
just as the Maitre D' showed two women to one of his more
centrally-located tables, one of them a natural beauty in slacks
and one of them elaborately coiffed and made up, wearing a designer
denim skirt, each a credit to the attractiveness of his
establishment.

Debbie waited until we had both ordered, two small salads and two
black coffees, and the waiter had left.  She then looked at me with
tears starting in her own eyes!  "Samantha," she said.  "I want to
be absolutely honest with you.  No, you don't know everything I'm
really doing.  No, I can't tell you until the proper time.  But
then I will certainly tell you everything!  Everything!  Soon, I
hope!  Until then you'll just have to trust me!"  

She smiled, but now the tears welled up.  They overflowed, and a
teeny streak of mascara coursed down her cheek.  She blotted it
with a kleenex and looked at the black stain it left.  

"Well, look at that," she said.  "I'm ruining my mascara.  But I
can't help it.  Samantha, everything I've told you is absolutely
true.  I can't possibly go down on you until you've done it first
to someone else.  That's the way I am and that's how it is!  And
you do need to be feminine if Bruce is to be your man, because
that's the way he is.  This is not some kind of cruel prank, a
'kiss off.'  I do love you.  I do want to spend the rest of my life
with you.  In fact I'm doing everything I can think of to make sure
that happens, despite the way I am in some ways.  Because if I
weren't doing this, it wouldn't happen!  You know that I haven't
been able to warm up to you sexually.  Our marriage was really
threatened!  But you accepted my challenge with Bruce, and I'm
glad, because now I think we can spend our whole lives together. 
It's much more likely.  I hope so!"

I was utterly mystified.  I suck Bruce's cock, and then she sucks
mine, and then we live happily ever after?

"I think it's absolutely essential that we be absolutely honest
with each other!  In a month you'll be a changed man.  I know it. 
An altogether changed man, because no longer a man at all, because
that's what you've promised me!  And that's when I'll be able to
explain everything, not to a husband but to a  girl I married for
life!  I mean to keep my word!  You suck off Bruce the way we've
agreed, and I guarantee you the best sex you've ever had for the
rest of your life.  You'll be happy, trust me, and that's what I'll
be too!  In only a month.  Do you believe me?"

"Yes," I said, simply.  And tears came into my own eyes.  She
looked so earnest, pleading with me to wait!  I had to believe her! 
I put a kleenex to my eyes too, and then we both started to sob.

"This is terrible!  We're making spectacles of ourselves!  Let's go
to the Ladies and get a grip and fix our faces!"  Debbie said,
rising.  I rose too, and remembered to glide as I followed her.   

Once there we fell into each others' arms and just cried and hugged
and sobbed.  There was nothing more either of us could say.  Then
gradually we recovered.  We believed each other.  There would be no
more talk about kissoffs.  

As Debbie repaired her face in the mirror she looked at me standing
alongside and admiring her.  My Debbie!  Soon to be all mine, our
intimacy wonderful, the way it had been this past weekend, but for
our whole lives!  More than wonderful!  Now that I was no longer
anxious about our relationship, we were able to make ordinary
girl-talk.

"Now that's really lovely!" she said, studying me in the mirror. 
"What Allison did with your hair!  I wish my hair had that kind of
fullness and body.  And it curled so beautifully!  Now it'll look
pretty no matter how passionate you may need to get with Bruce, no
matter how he may grip or twist it when you send him off the deep
end!  And it'll be so easy to fix -- all you'll need to do when you
stand up again is run your fingers through it!"

I was studying it in the mirror.  My new crop.  My crown of curls. 
If I were a girl, I'd think it looked adorable, because it was! 
But on me?  So unmistakably a girl's hairdo?  How could I return to
those customers in a month or so for their re-orders?  How could I
let my boss see me?  I was no longer the Sam they knew.  I tried to
share my concern indirectly.  "Honey, it's just stunning.  I love
it.  But it's so feminine!  I've never seen a man with this kind of
streaky blonde hair, curled and styled like this.  This is what
girls wear!  What will people think?"

"Of course you've never seen a man wearing your hairdo!  It *is* a
girl's style.  It looks effeminate?  I hope so!  It's lovely!  Very
flattering, Samantha!  It'll get you lots of compliments.  Anyhow,
why do you care what people think?  It's what I think that matters,
doesn't it?  And we've agreed that'll depend on what Bruce thinks. 
Isn't that so?"

How did Bruce somehow get between me and her feelings about me?  "I
suppose you're right," I replied.  She simply wasn't going to
concern herself with what I'd have to face later on.  So I couldn't
either.  One day at a time.

As Debbie finished and returned all her make-up to her purse, her
face once again neat, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't
touched mine, yet it was as perfect as when I left Vita's.  But I'd
cried too!  I'd wiped my eyes.  We'd hugged each other tearfully.
But my mascara stayed on my lashes the whole time.

"Why didn't my face smear like yours?"  I asked Debbie as casually
as I could.  I had an awful feeling that my eye liner and lipstick
might have been tattooed on!  Would I need to wear this face for
the rest of my life?  "My eye liner seems to be indelible!" I added
in as amused a tone as I could muster, that being my deepest fear.

"It is, more or less," Debbie replied.  "I asked about tattoos, but
they don't like to do them on faces any more.  So I told them to
use permanent stains instead.  They aren't sub-dermal, like a
tattoo, unfortunately.  Eventually they wear off.  They call them
"permanent," though they're no more permanent than a permanent
wave!  Perfect for a few months, anyhow, but in six months it all
needs retouching!"

"A few months?!" I said, trying to sound pleased by this disastrous
announcement.   I now had one of those perfect, enameled female
faces movie stars seem to have, and it wasn't going to go away
soon!  "That'll be convenient!"  

"Oh yes!" Debbie said.  "I'm glad you agree.  It was the only way
to go.  There's no time in only a month, three weeks really, to
teach you how to apply daytime make-up and then the more
sophisticated kinds for evening wear.  That can take years.  And
this is the only make-up that withstands the stresses of serious
lovemaking.  You'll be rubbing your face in lots of men's crotches
soon.  Ordinary lipstick can't survive encounters like that, and
you'll want to look as pretty afterward as you did before, I'm
sure.  Especially if your men cum on your face and you'll need to
wipe it off without smearing.  And anyhow, men don't appreciate
seeing lipstick or eye make-up on their penises or their clothes
the next day.  And neither do their wives, if they have any. 
Permanent make-up was the perfect solution, it seemed to me.  Don't
you agree?

"Oh, yes," I said.  I was ruined!  Even pierced ear holes could be
hidden or covered, but I'd need to use make-up on top of this
make-up in order to resume life as a man.  And even "natural"
make-up looks artificial, feminine, even at a glance -- that's how
they make it.  Then when any "natural" make-up wears off, there
I'll be with my deep red lips and black-outlined eyes all over
again, an effeminate man who thinks he looks like a pretty girl 
For the first time, I began considering that I might be in this for
the long haul, that my girlhood might not be over when Bruce was
satisfied and we went home from our weekend in the country with new
understandings of each other!  Looking like a girl certainly seemed
to be extending well past then.  I wondered if Bruce's was the last
cock Debbie expected me to suck.  I wondered if she had longer-range 
plans she hadn't yet revealed to me.

When we left the restaurant, Debbie suggested we walk to the
doctor's office a few streets away.  It was remarkable how well I
blended in.  Debbie had to remind me now and then to keep my toes
pointed forward when I walked, and to sway my hips by seeming to
walk on a line, but no one paid us the slightest attention, except
perhaps in passing.  We were two young women strolling and chatting
with each other.

Debbie talked almost non-stop, orienting me to my new gender.  "Men
offer solutions to problems instinctively" she told me. "That's
what they do instead of exchange recipes.  But women offer
sympathy, not solutions, and that's what other women really want. 
Men don't like to ask anyone for help -- it implies dependency,
weakness, impotence I suppose.  But women love to ask, because they
know men love to help them.  Oh yes, don't talk in falsetto,
Samantha honey -- just find a high natural tone with lots of range
and then stress your voice a little when you speak.  I love the way
Allison plucked your eyebrows into that high, high arch -- it looks
so delicate and refined."  All, I realized, to distract me from
asking more questions.  At 3:00 pm promptly we arrived at the
clinic.  The nurse took a blood sample from me and I waited while
Debbie went in and consulted.  Then I was ushered in.

The doctor was a woman of about Debbie's age.  In fact, Debbie
introduced me to her as her oldest friend Sandra -- they'd been
sorority sisters in college, trusted custodians of each other's
secrets.  "What we owe each other you wouldn't believe!" Debbie
said.

Doctor Sandra asked me to take off my blouse and bra, which was a
little embarrassing, though she didn't seem to notice.  She
inspected my chest.  Then she got to the point.  "You'd like your
adipose tissue redistributed the way Debbie described it to me?" 

"Here and there," I said.  "Nothing extreme."  That sounded like a
safe response.

She looked at my blood workup.  "You have very high hormone
readings.  It's already begun to increase tissue mass here and
there.  Have you begun to notice emotional swings?  Crying jags,
things like that?"

I realized that my little session with Debbie earlier today had
been the first since my early teens.  I nodded, wide-eyed.  How
could this be?  The exercise tapes?  The mere fact that I was
wearing a skirt?  

"Any cells I move are likely to multiply themselves as your
hormonal processes continue.  Then you'll really end up looking
like something else!  That's what you want?"

I said nothing.  "He's been on double strength milk shakes," Debbie
said.  "And also sneaking an extra one each day.  Plainly, that's
what he wants!"

"All right," the doctor replied.  "They're remarkable, aren't they,
those shakes?" she said to me with a grin.  "Brand new!  Intended
for morning-after contraception!  They overwhelm any leftover sperm
with so many male hormone blockers and so much estrogen that the
sperm isn't just sterile when it gets near an ovum, it's flouncing
around wearing bras and panties and trying to screw other sperm! 
Nothing male survives.  Women in the test cohort reported that
their bodies and feelings both became noticeably more feminine, and
that they felt inclined to use that femininity.  They felt
increases in sensitivity and libido, both.  That's exactly what's
wanted in your case, of course.  And I can see results already. 
Look here!"  

Reaching out, she gently pinched one of my nipples,
and I almost swooned!  A rich, delicious feeling of well-being
suffused me.  I was almost breathless.  "They're already enlarged,
too!" the doctor said to Debbie.  "See how the nipples have
thickened and begun to stick out?  Only three days, and already it's
cop a feel and he'll follow you anywhere!  They won't need
much collagen at all to look pointy.  They're absolutely delicious!"

"I'm counting on that, Sandra," Debbie replied.

"Well, let's get started.  Follow me, please."

We went into a room lined with gadgets, and Debbie and her friend
Sandra went off again.  A nurse came in, had me strip and lie down
under a sheet, and put an IV in my arm.  ""The procedure is safe,"
she said.  "It's been done hundreds of thousands of times without
incident.  But it's more comfortable done under Versid, the
tranquilizer I'm administering just now through this IV.  You'll
seem to nod off without knowing it, and then wake up without
remembering anything.  OK?"

I nodded.

"Good, he's back," the nurse replied.  "How're you feeling?"

I then heard Debbie say, "You mean, she's back, don't you?  Hardly
'he,' now."

I looked over, and there was Debbie sitting beside me.  It was
over?  Already?  The nurse helped me sit up.  Somehow I was dressed
again, bra, girdle, skirt, blouse, and all.  The bra and girdle
still felt full, still padded.  Debbie had added even more foam?

"There you are," the nurse said.  She handed me a small glass of
orange juice.  "You can leave any time you like -- the doctor's
seeing another patient.  Everything went as expected.  I'm afraid
you'll need to leave that bra and girdle on all night tonight and
all through tomorrow and tomorrow night, just to be sure everything
stays in place.  But the next morning you can wear your usual
underthings again."         

After a moment I stood up.  My waist felt a little sore, and my
skirt felt very loose in the yoke but tight around the hips.  The
bra cups pinched where they passed under each arm.  My lips felt
puffed, as if in a steady pucker.  I looked at Debbie, who was
watching me with a faint smile.

"That's right, honey.  Collagen to reshape your lips a little, to
give you that "soft suck" look porn stars all seem to have.  And
now you have the improvement in your figure you'd asked for.  A
little less in the waist, and a little more in the hips and rear
and bust.  Your bra and girdle are still holding the shape you'd
wanted.  But instead of padding it's all you."

It was strange.  The skirt had been tight on my waist and loose on
my hips.  Now it was just the reverse.  I felt my rear end.  Padded
there too?  Me?  And boobs?  Boobs!?

"It's all you, baby!  You'll love it!  But you don't get to see it
until the day after tomorrow, when you're firmed up.  Sandra does
liposuction -- fat cells taken from your waist are now where
they'll do your figure the most good as your hormones multiply
them.  It's all still you.  But redistributed, the way we'd
discussed."

My God!  The shape of my body, changed?  "How long does it last?" 
I asked timorously.

"Until you change it to something else.  Which in a few months,
when the hormones have done their thing, will be a major
undertaking, Sandra tells me.  From now on its like with every
woman, everything you eat goes to your hips and butt and breasts. 
So you'll want to eat lightly, and depend on the shakes for your
chief nourishment.  In three weeks I don't doubt you'll have
exactly the kind of figure Bruce likes.  Whether he hugs or
caresses you, I think you'll be quite satisfactory in that
department." 

I could only stare at Debbie.  What had she done?  What had I
agreed to do?  I looked down and felt my smooth crotch, a woman's
crotch, a shape that the tight girdle enforced.

"Oh, it's there, lover.  Same place as always.  We both have uses
for it.   But this way you get the figure you want without any need
to remove it."

"You've been giving me hormones for my figure in those milk
shakes?" I asked her.  I was still feeling for something to resent. 

"For your figure and your disposition.  You're already nicer,
honey, and a lot prettier.  Your face is softer.  You feel more
mellow.  Even more refined.  And we've both been giving them to
you, remember," she corrected me.  "Half of what's kicked you into
this incipient femininity is what you prescribed for yourself
without even telling me.  I told you it was potent stuff.  Maybe
you didn't hear me?"

"I was hungry," I replied.  It sounded childish.  But what else
could I say?  The thought crossed my mind that since she knew all
along, she could have stopped me or warned me.  But I wasn't
supposed to complain.

"We'll have a small lamb chop each tonight to celebrate your new
shape," Debbie said.  "And a huge salad, all you want.  Though it's
best if tonight you eat it standing up.  You now have the cutest,
bubble-shaped rear end now, lover!  And the sweetest haunches!  We
don't want to flatten them.  In another day they'll be the way
they'll be, and then grow even more so.  When we exercise in the
buff again, now you'll surely look and feel like one of the girls."

I heard her in silence.  An image of those girls on the exercise
tapes flashed on my inner eye.  Then it occurred to me.  "What
about these?" I asked her, lifting my breasts in their bra.  My God
they felt heavy! 

"What about them?  They're breasts.  All girls have them."  She
just looked at me.

I tried one last time.  "I'm not a girl, Debbie!"

"You're wrong.  You told me you were.  You agreed that you'd have
to be so Bruce could persuade himself that you were.  So you could
persuade yourself.  Do I need to ask you again?  Are you a girl?" 
She looked at me keenly, unwavering, waiting.

"Yes," I replied.  "I'm a girl."

"Every day more and more, and better and better.  Let's go home,
lover.  The car's loaded with your new clothes, and I want to see
how they fit.  All classic styles today, basic wardrobe.  Tomorrow
we'll shop together for specialty items, dreamy things, flouncy
things, slut wear, whatever you like.  You can decide for yourself
what kind of a girl you are and dress accordingly."  

I didn't dare ask her why I needed more clothes.  I knew she
wouldn't tell me.  Did Debbie and Bruce plan to find me
unsatisfactory for months?  Years?  I renewed my determination to
do this thoroughly and right, so the designated few weeks would be
all it took, and my birthday present from Debbie would be the
return blow job she'd promised, and that would be that.  Then undo
whatever needed to be undone, whatever it took.  For now I was a
girl.  With these boobs, apparently, a sexy girl!

The next day no exercise tapes.  I was too woozy from something the
doctor gave Debbie to give me so I'd make no sudden moves and risk
injury to my new figure.  I remember we shopped, and I got some
minis and swim wear.  And an evening gown, off the shoulder, very
soignee Debbie called it, perfect for Saturday night at the resort! 
She held up each item, and I nodded or else shook my head, then
tried on whatever I'd nodded to.  So they were all mine by choice. 
Wearing dresses was all by my choice.  These were clothes I wanted
for my very own to enjoy wearing always, dresses and panties and
the like that expressed my own taste, my own femininity.  Debbie
reminded me repeatedly that I was choosing to be the kind of girl
I was, that I was responsible for me.  Then we went to a movie,
something about a girl and her relationship with her mother and two
guys, how she preferred the guy who was sweet to her but did enjoy
now and then a wild night with the other one.  I'm not sure, I fell
asleep.  We got home, and I could barely drink my second milkshake
before tumbling into bed still in my bra and girdle.  Doctor's
orders.

I woke up the next morning half-persuaded I really was what
Debbie'd been calling me, a stylish young woman.  I ran my fingers
through my hair a few times to free up curls that were tangled and
flattened.  Then with relief I finally stripped off my girdle and
bra and stepped over to the mirror.  Yes, there were my cock and
balls, small, centered in a generous expanse of gracefully curving
hip. Curving up to my new wasp-waist, and back to form my bubble
butt as Debbie described it.  And hanging suspended above were two
new protuberances tipped with nipples that indeed looked larger
than only a few days ago.  I touched them, and again I was seized
with a strong, delicious, helpless desire for ... what?  I touched
them again and again, until I realized I was breathing heavily. 
They felt so delicious, my new breasts!  I adored having them!  The
thought shocked me!

There was no question this time.  I was a girl.  I went in to see
Debbie still naked, just as I was, and sat by our bed.  She was
still asleep, but she sensed something and opened her eyes, and saw
me sitting there looking at her, my hair a pretty corona, my face
beautifully made up, my breasts pendulous over a narrow waist, my
hips substantial on the narrow chair.  And she smiled.  Why not? 
I smiled back.

                              vii.

"You're a natural, honey!  I don't know why we didn't do this years
ago.  Here we are only a week or two into your training and the
physical part's well under way.  And the more obvious mannerisms
are coming on nicely, your voice and all, and I know that your
sense of yourself and your interests are getting more feminine
every day.  In lots of ways you're already a girl.  Bruce has no
idea what's awaiting him!  Maybe that's why now we need to begin on
the hardest part.  Now, I think."

"What's the hardest part, Debbie?"  

I was sitting at breakfast with her reading the morning paper, a
fashion column to be precise, after only a glance at the sports
pages.  I was still filling in my wardrobe, because I wanted to be
stylish without calling attention to myself, and there were so many
ways to do just that!  I was wearing a babydoll not unlike Stacy's,
though with the panties that went with it, because we'd do our
Jazzercize right afterward, and I felt embarrassed that my hairless
penis and testicles flopped and bounced as we danced.  Debbie and
the girls on the tape all had trim, tight crotches.   I could only
admire their neat, compact appearance when we all did leg
extensions or high kicks.  This particular morning Debbie was
wearing a sexy negligee.  We were two women starting our morning. 
 

"Changing your sexual orientation is the hardest part, babydoll. 
Getting you so you really and truly want to make love to guys.  Not
so you're willing -- that's where we are now.  So you're thrilled
to do it.  So you'd be the happiest girl in the world if the right
guy told you he wanted you to suck his cock."

Now it wasn't just Bruce but "guys."  I said nothing.  I'd learned
that Debbie likes to talk around an issue until the person she's
with volunteers to do whatever she had in mind all along.  Then she
praises his marvelous idea and doesn't claim any responsibility --
"I'm so helpless and grateful!" is her message after a successful
manipulation.  As a new woman I was trying to develop that strategy
myself to use on others, but it didn't come easy, especially since
I wasn't in charge of anything.  Not even myself.

"They say it can't be done, make someone heterosexual into someone
gay, or straighten out someone who's gay, and I suppose strictly
speaking that's true.  But everyone's a little bi-sexual way down
under I think, even if it's only a very little, even if that very
little's been completely suppressed by conditioning -- mockery,
shame, contempt, disgust, you know, the usual ways people put down
the unique as if it were deviant.  That gives us something to work
with, to try to encourage.  That and the fact that people do what 
they have to do.  In prison men fuck each other because
they have no choice.  I bet a lot of them like it, even under
duress, or maybe because of the duress -- because it relieves them
of the need to suppress an actual desire.  Even the toughest and
most macho of them."

She was circling closer.

"Maybe it's just what's accustomed?" I suggested.  "Getting used to
things?  People don't notice routine activities.  For instance, I'm
now spending hours each day it seems licking and sucking on that
soft rubber dildo you bought me.   Doing everything to it that
Stacy does to that guy's cock.  I throat it now without even
thinking.  Paying no attention.  It was so embarrassing, the first
time, and kind of exciting too, because it violated something deep
inside me. But I did it, and now it doesn't seem to matter."

"Yes, I've watched you.  Those new puffy lips of yours look so
natural sliding up and down that imitation cock!  That's what
they're for!  And you were passionate enough the first day.  But
now you look as if you were smoking a cigar and reading a book. 
You aren't focussed.  You no longer seem to feel privileged to be
kissing a man's member, nor humiliated either.  And that's what's
missing.  It isn't fulfilling for you, and it isn't helping you
feel more girly.  So it isn't deeply satisfying.  You need
motivation.  Can you think of any?

"Do it to avoid worse?  But what could be worse?  Getting slapped
around?  I wouldn't stand for it.  No girl should."

"Let's think.  What might be even more humiliating for a man than
giving head to another man while wearing a dress?  But fulfilling
if the man in the dress thought she was a woman?  There's still
enough man in you to think of something, I'll bet.  What's the most
glorious thing a woman can want a man do to her that a man would be
ashamed to have happen to him?  Unless he's gay."

"I don't know.  What things do gay men do with each other that're
like what men do with women?"   I knew I'd be sorry I said it the
moment the words came out of my mouth.  Oh my God!!

"Of course, honey!  Why didn't I think of that?  Why else are you
growing those beautiful globes on your tush?  They're so 
provocative!  You do know of course that yesterday when we were at
the supermarket and you were wearing those tight slacks, men were
stopping and turning around to watch you walk away from them?  It
was so funny!  You have a beautiful ass now, and with your new walk
it swings and sways as if you were on the edge of an orgasm.  Men
would love to get themselves into you there, I bet.  I just know
it!  I wonder if that's a way to re-awaken your interest in your
dildo?  I'll bet you'd be more devotedly attentive to any cock in
your mouth if you knew that if you weren't, it would soon be in
your ass."

She was off and running.  What could I say?  I'd surrendered
control of my life to her, and she always talked herself into
whatever she wanted to believe.  Then talked me into it.  "Maybe,"
was all I replied.

She poured herself more coffee.  I was still sipping my morning's
enriched milkshake.  I was allowed two each day now officially, and
it contained additives now that kept me in a strange, eager,
expectant but compliant mood.  My breasts felt swollen, and I often
felt wet down below -- my penis was seeping some kind of fluid.  My
nipples were more enlarged and sensitive than ever, and Debbie
encouraged me to play with them each night, since I couldn't play
with her.  I sneaked in other times too, it felt so good!

"Or," she went on.  "Maybe getting fucked would be positive
reinforcement for you, not at all a negative!  Knowing that if you
blow him really well, your man will *reward* you by fucking you in
the ass.  That bubble-shaped butt *is* one of your more attractive
features now, Samantha.  I'll bet if we exposed it no man could
resist.  Lots of girls flirt by showing off their asses.  That's
what tight skirts and shorts and pants are for!  And thongs, and
many kinds of bathing suits!"  

She paused, then continued.  "Now that's a really provocative idea. 
Don't you think so?  That would be altogether new for you!  And so
very feminine!"

I said nothing.

She started daydreaming.  "You might like it, getting fucked.  I
don't see why not!"

Was she teasing me?  Thinking of a way to punish me for the
unwanted fuckings I'd given her?  Was she serious?

"Bruce could easily reach around to caress your tits while he was
pumping into you between those beautiful globes.  You'd be in
heaven.  I'll call him right away and ask him what he thinks."

"Debbie!" I called out.  But she was already gone.

She came back pensive.  "Bruce thinks it's a marvelous idea, and he
says he'll be happy to accommodate you if your rear end is all I
say it is.  Whether it's a punishment or reward doesn't seem to
matter to him."  

She started to clear the breakfast table as if our conversation was
over.  Then, "And he had another suggestion as well."

Finally I asked, "What was that?"

"What?  Oh, Bruce's suggestion?"

"Yes!"

"That if you don't suck his cock with the right finesse then he
should do not only your rear but mine!  And my pussy.  That I make
up for all of your deficiencies."

Her rear!!?  Where I'd never dared go?  And what else!?  "All of my
deficiencies?" I cried out.  "You mean, you'd blow him too!!?  Even
before you blow me?!"

She was stacking things in the dishwasher now.  "Yes." she said
absently.  "Of course!  I told him that sounded only fair."

This was appalling!  I'd never had the least qualms about Debbie
being unfaithful to me with another man!  She'd never seemed
interested enough in sex to risk our marriage by sleeping with
someone else, for one thing.  She was too strong-minded to fall
like some enamored ditz into a frivolous affair, for another.  I
knew that she loved me, I never doubted it, but I knew she didn't
like to express it physically, that was the problem.  That was why
we were in this strange situation right now.  Did I now need to
save her from a fate worse than death by nobly devoting my all to
sucking on the cock that threatened her honor?  Craven, suck off
another man with all my heart and soul to avoid being cuckolded? 
And possibly fail anyhow?  On both accounts?  

I'm sure Debbie sensed that like many men I've sometimes felt
defensive about my manhood.  The male ego may be tough, but it's
also fragile.  I was never that well-endowed, and the thought of my
wife getting it on with another man and ending up better satisfied
by him has always seemed to me catastrophic.  Unthinkable!  A  fear
that she might prefer him, that she'd leave me, paralyzes me
whenever the thought enters even the outskirts of my mind.  So I
suppress it.  But now she'd raised it.

"He's gay!" I protested, as if reminding her would change what
she'd just somehow arranged with Bruce.  "Bruce is!  You told me!"

"Bi-sexual, honey.  I never said exclusively gay.  He'll do boys or
girls I hear, though they need to look like girls, either way.  I
thought I'd made that clear!"

I couldn't argue the point now.  Instead, I spoke directly to my
greatest fear!  "Debbie!  Honey!  You'd cheat on me!?"

She turned to face me.  "Samantha honey, it isn't cheating if my
husband knows all about it and has every opportunity to prevent it
and doesn't, and is in fact there watching.  I'd insist that you
watch, so you'd at least learn something about how women
instinctively do such things!  How to do it right on your next
attempt!  How not to disgrace yourself altogether!  And how to
enjoy it!"  She turned her back to rinse the dishes before placing
them in the dishwasher racks, then said self-righteously, "Anyhow,
what I'd do is no more than you intend to do, blow him and let him
fuck you.  So who'd be the first one of us to cheat?  Answer me
that!"

"Debbie!  You told me I *had* to blow him!  I'm doing all this just
to satisfy you!  And fucking as an issue never even arose until
just now!  And it would be a penalty, if it happened!"

She glanced at me under half-closed lids.  "I'll bet!"

"It would be!!"  I felt in retreat!  I'd already lost this argument
too!  How did I get into these?

"No, Samantha!"  She spoke my name as if it had a cutting edge. 
"Don't blame me for your own self-indulgence!  You're doing all
this for your own pleasure and satisfaction, not mine!  So I'll be
willing to blow you, remember?  It's rather selfish of you in some
ways, agreeing to this deal, but I've been willing to go along with
it.  And I will go along with it.  Up to a point!  Anyhow, you'll
notice it wasn't me who first suggested that Bruce might want to
squeeze himself into your cute tush.  It was you who wondered what
gay men do to each other!  Have you been thinking about it much? 
Daydreaming about it?"

I felt a little wild-eyed at this revised version of what had
happened!  She sat down again and leaned back and said peaceably,
even smugly, in the face of my shocked expression.  "Oh,
sweetheart, do get used to the idea.  You're a married woman who's
preparing herself to suck another man's cock and is ripe for
fucking!  You don't have any alternatives now, do you?  Look at
you!  With your face and figure, would any normal woman besides me
want you?  Maybe some bull dyke, someone you'd be afraid to come
near in daylight much less the dark.  But honey, men will want you! 
You'll inspire them!  Sandra thinks maybe those extra milkshakes
triggered your own body's production of female hormones, and that
maybe it's irreversible.  For whatever reason, you're hell-bent
toward a figure that's every man's wet dream.  At this moment all
those extra fat cells she installed are multiplying and
multiplying, in all the right places -- for a woman, that is! 
That's your future!  As a man you're already a joke!"

Then she added more sympathetically, "I love you.  I hope you know
that.  I'll always want you close to me no matter what.  And I know
you love me.  But maybe it hasn't occurred to you -- you're like
those men in prison now, aren't you?  Those guys who do what you're
going to do with Bruce, because they haven't any choice any more?
So they do their very best to make their man happy?  You really do
want to make Bruce happy, don't you?  Because giving pleasure is
pleasurable, and because of what could happen if you don't?  What
might happen anyway?"

She looked at me meaningfully, and I realized she'd already made an
arrangement with Bruce.  First I'd be unfaithful to her, then she'd
feel free to be unfaithful to me.  With Bruce.  Not only with
Bruce?"

"Learn to live with that idea, my darling Samantha!  Dream about
it!  Hope for it!  Better, learn to love it, be eager to see it all
happen!  Then you'll feel much better about it!" 
                                                                  

For a moment she looked altogether satisfied with herself -- she'd
now actually done what she'd set out to do this morning -- get me
well-motivated to blow Bruce, get me fucked, and then wrap her own
legs around that office stud while I stood by helplessly watching! 
I'd been utterly out-maneuvered!  

Then she added, "Time for our exercises, love, and then you'll want
to be nice to your dildo for an hour or so with those new soft
lips.  I brought home a few more porn tapes, the kind they make for
gay men this time.  With lots of anal penetration, so you'll get an
idea how it's done and how it can be enjoyed.  All well-hung men
with glistening, oiled bodies for you to look at.  You'll see how
to prepare yourself for the possibility the way any girl does when
she's going on a really heavy date.  Watch the tapes with Mr.
Dildo, and see if either of you get any new ideas."  

Mr. Dildo got one big one.  That night, after first giving me an
enema, then a douche, then perfuming me and asking me to wait for
her in my finest nightgown, Debbie entered my room wearing Mr.
Dildo, turned my legs wide over my head, and then gently entered
me.  As she pushed into my newly plump rear end I felt stretched,
a burning that eased to a full, full feeling, then a loss of it as
she withdrew, then it returned as she pushed in again.  I was
surprised to find it was not unpleasant.  She persisted, and I
began to anticipate the fullness -- it made me feel complete.  Then
to desire it.  The tips of her breasts waved across and touched
mine with the most excruciating delicacy, now and then, repeatedly. 
My desire mounted, and rose, and almost blossomed into a gorgeous
completion when suddenly she withdrew and sat back satisfied.  

"That's all for now," she said.  "Now you're a real lady!  You were
making the most darling mewing sounds just now, lover!  My sweet
pussy-cat!"

                               viii.

The next morning she still felt especially pleased by my reaction
to my first fucking.  I hadn't been allowed to cum, of course --
she wanted to keep me horny for Bruce -- but I'd pushed back into
Mr. Dildo quite a few times after a while, she reminded me, the
last times feverishly.  

I was pleased with myself too, because it was all new and
pleasurable, even though I couldn't tell why I was doing any of
this, exactly, any more.  I would do this thing with Bruce whatever
it was, creditably, I decided.  Because Debbie had extracted
promises from me, and I meant to keep them?  Because Debbie
apparently needed an excuse to be with another man, and now I was
that excuse. and I wanted to please her?  Because if Bruce actually
was the great lover she seemed to think him, I'd love doing it with
him? 

With that thought, I realized that she'd actually done it!  Changed
my sexual orientation, at least for sex with Bruce.  It was
astonishing, how she had done it.  And also amusing.  I wondered if
anything she'd said was true.  Whether any of it would actually
occur.  If Bruce didn't fuck me now, I was thinking, I'd actually
feel disappointed.

A few days later we were doing our morning exercises.  I was now
wearing a leotard with my breasts held firm in spandex and my
genitals tucked tight between my legs, as trim in the crotch as any
of the other girls, doing some vigorous rhythmic movements in
special high heeled shoes designed for ballroom dancing, Debbie
alongside me as always.  My tendons were stretched by high kicking,
and I was adding a pelvic twist as instructed.  Debbie complimented
me on the femininity of those gestures, how supple my body seemed,
as if ready to wrap around anyone's.  We'd just begun another
number when the front door chimes sounded.  

Debbie broke off to answer it, deal with it, and get back to our
morning routine.  Then she returned. 

I didn't notice until my dance number ended and I turned to get a
towel to wipe perspiration off my face.  Debbie was leaning over 
the back of a chair and confiding something to another woman who 
was sitting in it quietly and  watching me!  Another woman!  
Marcie!  My God, it was Marcie!  From way across town -- why was
she here?  I'd slept with her for a week for God's sake!   Marcie
and Debbie knew each other?  Did she recognize me?  Did she know
that I'd once been a man, did she think that now I was some kind of
wannabe femme faggot!  I couldn't speak!  It was too late to hide!

"You look wonderful, Samantha!" she said before I could fully
register that she was real, not a hideously humiliating
hallucination.  "Debbie told me everything!"  

I was shocked by that, but then she went on, "I do admire what
you're doing!"  Her eyes sparkled.  

Debbie beamed as though the compliment had been directed toward
her.  "Samantha, meet my friend Marcie," she said.  "From that
Ikebana class I took.  Flower arranging, remember?  We hit it off
the moment we saw each other!" 

"Marcie!" I repeated.  Shocked!  She sees me like this!  What can
she be thinking!?  Did she tell Debbie anything about us?

"You were right, Debbie," Marcie continued.  "She looks absolutely
precious!  I think you'll really enjoy her this way!"

Debbie saw my consternation, though she remained utterly impassive,
her expression implying nothing.  "Don't fret, Samantha honey," she
said in a syrupy velvet voice that told me immediately that she
expected my very best behavior.  "It was time for a few people to
know that you're now finally becoming the woman you have always
thought you were.  And doing it quickly to avoid all the problems
of a lengthy transition.  Marcie knows I'm standing by you, helping
you in every way I can.  And she's offered to help too!"  A glint
in Debbie's eye told me I should go along with this or I'd be dead
meat.

I was still speechless.  Instinctively I tried slouching back in a
kind of John Wayne wide-gaited, defiant sprawl, as if to say,
"Yeah, well I'm dressed a little odd, but I'm still a guy, got any
problems with that?"  But my high heels wouldn't allow it.  Instead
they tilted me forward, with one foot decorously posed in front of
the other, knee bent, as if I were helpless and pleading.  When I
opened my mouth, all I could squeak was "A few people know?"

"Samantha, as a woman I'm sure you can appreciate this," Marcie
continued.  "I was telling Debbie only a few days ago about a
problem I've got with my husband, that he's so depressed about his
birthday coming up.  His big four oh.  And she told me about the
problem she's had with you and about how the two of you have been
working it out.  And it came to both of us all at once how we could
both help each other out, if you're willing to cooperate!"  

Debbie fixed a hard gaze on me.  I replied in my own mellifluous
voice, the equivalent of Debbie's, "Of course, Marcie.  Anything! 
How can I help?"   

"It's a very big favor, and I'm a little embarrassed to ask it, but
Debbie told me it would be a favor to you too.  I'm sure that
you'll want to accommodate me.

A threat to tell Debbie about us?  "What, Marcie?  Tell me!"

"I want to give Gabe a special present!"

"'Gabe?'  That's lovely!  What present?"

"You!"

"What!!?"

"For a whole evening!  To do things he wants to do with a woman
that I don't like doing, that we never do together.  So at this
particular time of his life he won't feel he's being deprived."

I was bewildered.  "Give me to him for an evening?!  To play
scrabble, or watch football on the TV, or something?"

"Oh you dear innocent girl!  No, it might have been that before you
... came out of yourself, but not now.  I mean sexual things with
him!  It would do a lot to make up for ... a time I neglected him
for a week, when was it, a year of so ago?"  

Debbie's face remained inexpressive.

"Mainly, I don't know why, but he's always after me to take him
into my mouth.  And to receive him in ... my other end too.  You
know!  I don't like even thinking about it!  I was telling Debbie,
and she told me you were like that too when you were still
pretending to be a man, asking her to do special things all the
time.  And now that you're a woman you still like the idea, but
from the other side!  That you'd be happy to do those things with
a man now!"  She smiled.  "In both ends!"  She smiled more broadly,
confidently, now that we were all of us girls together.  "And that
you've been practicing those very things!"    

"That's certainly true," Debbie said brightly.  "She's been using
her mouth and her rear end on a pretend penis, to see how she likes
it!"  She looked at me with an approving gleam,  "She's gotten 
quite used to it.  In both ends."

"Yes, so you tell me," Marcie said .  Then she turned to me again. 
"I've thought maybe I'd hire a professional sex worker to service
him.  You know, a whore.  But Gabe is such a sweet dear, and that
seems to me so ... impersonal, after all!  And then Debbie tells me
that you'd just love to do it!  That you're eager to experience
everything women can do with men just as soon as possible!"

"That's right, Marcie," Debbie echoed in that mellifluous,
authoritative tone I could never dare contradict.  "Once she
decided to quit trying to be a man and decided to try attracting
them instead, she's been a changed girl.  I couldn't keep her away
from Vita's.  Isn't that hairdo fantastic?  And Sandra's done
wonders for her figure too, as you can see.  And she's loves oral
and ... other kinds of penetration with male-shaped objects.  I
think she's about ready for the real thing!"  All the while her
eyes informed me to agree or stay silent. 

"She does look just lovely!" Marcie agreed.  "I know Gabe will be
so pleased.  I'm counting on it!  Though I certainly won't tell him
that his little birthday present partner once thought she was a
man!  Not until the next time I'm mad at him for something."

Marcie was telling me that cooperation was my only recourse.  She
was one of those well-endowed wives who kept her figure slim and
whose tits therefore seem huge.  She was wearing a sweater that
draped them decorously, so they showed as a mere bulge.  It was
obvious though that she wore no bra today -- her extraordinarily
large nipples poked at the sweater, declaring what they were
unmistakably.  I stared at them, then realized that in my leotard,
my own were declaring almost the same thing!  Also unmistakably. 
Did I look that sexy?

"I'm sure," I told her.  Sure of what?

"Then you'll do it?  I just know you have every reason to want to!"
said Marcie, looking steadily at my crotch, then unwaveringly into
my eyes.  That was true enough.  Also, I was beginning to feel
hypnotized by those two pointy nubs projecting from her sweater,
the way I'd been when we last ... accommodated each other.  I could
feel how desirable they were.  I already knew how desirable they
were.  It was nice having a pair of my own this time, I realized. 
With my own I didn't desire hers in quite the same way.  But it was
hard to say 'no' to her! 

Debbie broke in.  "Marcie, I told you, she'd love to do it.  You
see, the weekend after this one we celebrate Samantha's birthday
too.  Her first birthday as Samantha!  That's when she'll complete
her journey into womanhood.  She has a heavy date with a man in my
office, and they're going away together to a resort for a kind of
honeymoon.  I know that she'll come back a different person!  That
we'll feel much closer about lots of things afterward!" 
She stared at me yet again, lovingly it seemed, this time. I hoped.

I said nothing.  Then, because I thought I thought I should say
something, I asked, "It'll be my pleasure, Marcie.  When's Gabe's
birthday?"

"Oh, I'm so grateful to you, Samantha!  And to you too, Debbie, for
sharing your darling hubbie with me."  

I flinched.

"It's next Thursday," she went on.  "Just before you go off on your
own ... kind of honeymoon.  Is that too soon?  That's his actual
birthday.  They'll be getting him a cake or something at his
office, so he'll be coming home a little later than usual.  That's
why I wanted something more than just a cake waiting for him when
he got home.  Can you come over by eight?  That's when he's due
home."

Why was Debbie encouraging this?  Did she know about our past
history, and now she was using my vulnerability to get even?  Was
Marcie simply amusing herself?  Was it all an awful coincidence? 
"Will you be there?" I asked Marcie.   Was this supposed to be some
kind of kinky three-way?

"Oh no!  I'll just introduce the two of you with the proper
fanfare, so he knows exactly why you're there.  Then I'll come over
here and visit with Debbie for a few hours.  That ought to give you
enough time.  Gabe is good for only two or three climaxes an
evening anyhow!"

"Perfect!," Debbie said.  "Samantha's been dying to get in some
practice!  She has every reason to want to do it right the first
time!"  And it was settled.  

Debbie suggested to Marcie that we should all go down and pour
ourselves a nice cup of coffee and catch up on things.  An
invitation she made clear I couldn't refuse, now that I really was
one of them, one of the girls, about to be initiated as intimately
into their circle as any girl could be.  Marcie went off to use the
bathroom, and Debbie made it all quite clear.

"You'll come too, " she said.  "You need practice just sitting and
chatting with other girls!  Sooner or later we'll be having my
friends over, and I don't want you to embarrass me because you
can't do what every girl's been doing all her life!"  

"Make girl talk, you mean?" I asked.  "With all your other
friends?"  I decided to put my foot down.  "What for!  I'm done
with all this after next weekend!  And why did you tell her I'd
love to have sex with her husband?  This was supposed to be a one
night stand!  One blow job, remember?  More and more keeps getting
added on!"

"You think you're done after next weekend, honey?" Debbie said,
amused.  "Dream on!  That's only the beginning!  That's when your
new life begins!  Your face and figure are your fortune now,
Samantha.  Look at them.  That's what they're like for the next few
months minimally!  Welcome to the foreseeable future!"  

A sly smile, then, "Besides, maybe you'll like what you and Bruce
do.  Maybe you'll want to do lots more of it with other men!  Maybe
I'll have to peel you off them every night!  Or maybe you and
Marcie's husband will hit it off and he'll want to see more of you! 
You never know!  You seem to have made quite a hit with Marcie!"  

She paused.  I couldn't tell if she was being tart or merely
teasing, but that concern flew out of my head with her next
statement.  "Besides, you forget, other people also know about you
now.  And what I've told them will be harder for you to undo than
your curly hair or your permanent make-up or your figure."

I'd forgotten!  She'd mentioned "a few people"!  There were others! 
A sudden pang stabbed my vitals!  "Know?  Know what?  Who else?"

"Well, sweetie, it was only fair to tell the people you work with. 
Your boss.  And the affirmative action officer in your personnel
office had to know that now there's one less man and one more woman
in her company roster.  She was so pleased!"
  

The office!  My life was over!  In ruins!  I staggered and took
hold of the back of a chair until I could recover.  Then I said
just that to Debbie, adding, "How can anyone respect me?"   

"Oh, they think it's just fine!  Your boss hopes you'll have a long
and even more successful career with them in your new gender.  She
wouldn't care if you painted yourself blue as long as you maintain
your sales record.  And all the women in your office admire you for
having the courage to be what you are, I hear.  The men?  Who knows
what the men in your office think?  They tell me some of them
smirked, though no one has actually said anything.  Anyhow, who
cares?  It doesn't matter what men think of you any more, Samantha,
does it?  Except for certain men, those you're interested in.  Of
course if you change back to being a man again, you'll seem to be
insincere, frivolous, playing all sorts of titillating gender games
with yourself.  Then no one will respect you."

That was true, I realized.  I was trapped.  I would need an
elaborate script of some kind I couldn't now conceive for my
transition back to manhood when all this was behind me. 

"Why did you tell people at work, Debbie?  Deliberately?  To box me
in?"

Her eyebrows rose.  "You boxed yourself in, baby.  You've consented
to everything, all of it.  Like it or not, you'll have to be a girl
for some time after you and Bruce hit it off, won't you?  I
couldn't very well let you go back to work pretending you were a
man but wearing a curly hairdo and permanent makeup and those tits 
now, could I?" she said.  "And every move delightfully effeminate,
after all this practice?  You'd disgrace yourself!  So relax and
enjoy being a girl with the rest of us until it all wears off.  If
ever!"   

What could I say?  She was right.  Other people thinking wrongly
that I was some kind of pervert wasn't my worst ordeal in prospect. 
Now there were two cocks to suck, and two ass-reamings to endure. 
Worse still, what if I liked them?!  Mr. Dildo hadn't been
half-bad!

Marcie rejoined us.  And in fact the coffee and girl talk was much
less boring than I'd expected.  I couldn't look at Marcie now
without wondering how she felt being penetrated, feeling a man
thrust himself into her.  Or how Debbie felt.  I'd been that man,
but hadn't ever concerned myself!  All women do it, I consoled
myself, and most of them like it.  No big deal.  

Then when we talked about style, I contributed what I'd read only
the day before about how the summer's ankle length skirts and
dresses would be extending into fall couture this year, unlike last
year, and that it was flattering for tall, thin women especially. 
"It'll look wonderful on you through the fall then, Samantha,"
Marcie said gravely.  "Don't you think?"  She didn't seem to expect
a reply. 

We talked recipes, of course.  "We're both dieting to improve our
figures," Debbie said.  "But Samantha will be in the kitchen a lot
more often than Sam was, of course, when she's completed her little
journey." 

They lamented that Marcie's sister was leaving her husband for
another woman, and after eight years of marriage.  "It's so
unnecessary!" they agreed.  "Look at us, for example!"  

I raised my eyebrows.  Marcie explained, "Women visit each other
all the time openly, the way I'm visiting you and Debbie right now. 
Men tend to visit women secretly because people like to assume
there's something sexual going on, and they love to talk!"  She 
smiled innocently at me.  "Women visit each other for sex, yet 
their spouses never think anything's amiss.  I visit Debbie often, 
and we're seen out together, and no one thinks anything of it.  
So there's really no need for lesbians to get divorces.   When 
girls get together it raises no more gossip than when guys get 
together!" 

Debbie asked, "You mean guys like our husbands getting together?" 
 This started a fit of hilarious giggling between them.  I smiled
faintly.  But it was true.  In their eyes I was now only a former
guy.  A girl.  A done deal.  I was now one of them. 

                              ix.

Each morning and evening we writhed and twisted and swooped to our
exercise tapes.  My posture and gestures became increasingly
smooth, dainty, and refined while my midriff thinned out even more. 
Overall I continued to lose weight.  Yet the replanted fat in my
breasts, hips, and butt grew heavier, and my breasts swelled up 
plump until the support of a full figure bra became a necessity, 
especially when I jogged in place.  The planes of my face 
and my body softened and took on curves.  Lunch and dinner still 
consisted of a large glass of hi-hormoned and medicated milkshake 
to help my body become more plausible and my mind more mellow.  
But sometimes also a small salad or fruit salad.

My life settled into a routine.  Mr. Dildo was mounted on a chair
for my convenient access, and each morning I tried to bring him to
orgasm with my mouth no matter how silly it seemed, and each
afternoon I tried to do the same thing with a freshly douched
asshole.  Now and then Debbie asserted her prior claim on my rear,
strapped him on, and mounted and penetrated me.  It got to be fun!  

As expected my maleness eroded rapidly.  I felt timid often, and
experienced some extreme mood swings.  A few times I felt miserable
and depressed that my manliness was harder each day for me
to locate, and might be irrecoverable when the time came.  Debbie
advised me when those glooms hit me to simply go out and treat
myself to something utterly frivolous, a sinfully wicked pair of
panties or a new shade of lipstick I could use defiantly to cover
the permanent red stain on my lips.  I did, and oddly, it worked!  

Some days I'd feel so pleased with my change of life that I'd spend
hours caressing and tweaking my swollen nipples while waves of
ecstasy radiated from them.  My penis was off limits to me -- 
Debbie wanted me to accumulate desire down there until I felt
overwhelmed me and I'd be swept among, ready to perform or submit
to anything no matter how twisted.  But she wanted me to enjoy my
breasts to my heart's content.  The rich rapture each one generated
when touched or fingered surpassed anything I had ever felt in my
cock.  It was strange -- a sensation of deep contentment, gratified
desire, excruciating pleasure, and a breathless exultation that
they were mine!  I felt so very feminine, having them!  I loved
them!  Their shape brought profound satisfaction as my figure
ripened.  Those breasts hanging from my chest seemed so essential 
a part of me, in fact, that soon I couldn't conceive of myself 
without them.  These, I decided, I would keep when I reverted to 
my proper sex.  Even though a bra was now essential to support 
their jouncing and sagging.  So I'd need to wear my bras to work from 
now on, and cover them with oversized shirts somehow.  And never 
wear T-shirts!  Then I could still revel in their size and shape!
I loved my hips and rear too, and lamented that I'd need to leave 
them behind.

It all seemed increasingly worth while.  

Still other days I'd relapse.  I was a man performing an elaborate
charade, pretending to be a girl, all as part of the deal I'd cut
with my wife so she'd finally perform her proper duties as a wife. 
I'd keep my part of the bargain but that was that and that was all. 
Then this nonsense ceases, I told myself.  Whatever I'll need to do
to get back to what I was, I'll do.  No question of it!

That was my state of mind, unfortunately, during the last week of
my training.  Debbie had gone to her office to catch up on work,
and after my morning session with Mr. Dildo I spent the day in my
study phoning new customers for re-orders, listening to their
reactions to things, jollying them, using my old voice instead of
the sweet soft voice Debbie'd trained me to use, feeling altogether
my old self.  I was too busy to keep my afternoon appointment with
the dildo chair.  When Debbie came home I was relaxing in front of
the tube watching a football game, a Cosmopolitan open on my lap,
an article called "Six Ways to Drive Him Wild" forgotten while I
watched a fourth down ground play gain six yards for a first and
ten.

She came in and saw, but said nothing.  I was curled up tight and
snug on the couch, the stretching exercises having given me joints
as supple as they were rounded, slim, rounded, bulging beautifully.
I was wearing tight stretch blue jeans and slipons along with a 
clingy coral sleeveless knit shirt that revealed every curve of my 
bust.  And little drop earrings, my favorites.  My face
might have been looking a little more dramatic than usual -- on
impulse I'd added eye shadow to my indelible eye liner that morning
-- but inside me at that moment I was male, my old self, and
football was football.

"Hi, doll!" I said breezily.  "How was work, OK?"  Then I returned
attention to the game, not waiting for an answer.

She sat down and studied me, my unmistakenly girlish appearance,
the magazine in my lap, but above all my narrowed eyes as I watched 
a quarterback sneak, and she came to a decision.

"Samantha, in just a few days now you'll be trying to satisfy me by
trying to satisfy Bruce, so he won't need to satisfy me himself. 
Won't you?  You have a lot at stake there.  And it's tomorrow you
lend Marcie's husband your mouth and your asshole to use as he
chooses, remember?  As the husband of my friend, and also as an 
opportunity to perfect your skills for the weekend.  You'll want 
to bring your whole heart and soul to it."

"Yes," I replied.  I'd forgotten.  Still in my male state of mind,
I can't say that the prospect pleased me.  

"You'll want to use Gabe well when you do what you've promised to do. 
And of course you'll want Bruce to feel he's really special.  I
know what will help.  Remember how we originally planned for you to
visit a gay bar, for some concentrated experience, so you can learn
about different men's responses to the different things women can
do to them, to educate your instincts?  Free of charge, nothing
personal implied, your anonymous mouth wrapped around different
anonymous pricks?  So you can suck on your first real meat and
swallow your first semen direct from the source?  Acquire a taste
for it?  Make mistakes and correct them, no penalties?"

I just stared at her.  She spoke matter-of-factly.  But was there
a certain vindictiveness underneath?  How dare I watch football
when I'm supposed to be a woman! 

She stared back at me and then said in measured tones, "Checking
out the build on those guys, honey?  That's what you're doing?  Big
shoulders, nice, tight butts?  Powerful thighs?  The packages
between their legs?  Is there any one of them in particular your
heart hankers after?  One you'd lie down for in a second?  All of
them?"

I just shook my head, wide eyed.  But as I watched another play
executed, all I could see now were pistoning thighs and packed hams
and strong arms, any pair of them fit to pry my legs wide open. 
And shove in what?  Now I saw only portable man meat crouching and
running across the field!  They were studs strutting their stuff,
some lithe, some heavy duty.  I groaned.  She'd feminized the way
I look at football with a single remark!  

She saw her ploy had worked by the way I was now looking at the
screen and shaking my head, and she grinned broadly.  "Cheer up,
honey.  Tonight we'll go out and get you a man of your very own,
not as well built, but still, a man.  A few of them.  No more 
feeling hard up for something to slide into your face or between 
your legs.  Starting tonight you won't ever be a virgin again!  
Go drink your girl-juice now, and I'll lay out a pretty outfit 
for you!"

For a few hours after each breakfast and dinner milkshake I always
felt especially mellow and expectant, "like a confident girl
anticipating a good time" was the way Debbie described the effect
she and Dr. Sandra wanted and the additives were meant to create. 
Even so, I was shocked when I got to my room and found on my bed
the scantiest shiny leather mini skirt and flimsiest, most transparent
top, along with thigh-high boots.

"It's a warm night," Debbie said.  "You won't be chilly I'm sure,
and now that your waist is so thin and your hips so broad this
skirt will flare out beautifully.  Tasteful yet wicked!  Go do your
prepping douche and then put these on.   No underwear, love, no bra
and no panties.  Tonight you flaunt it.  When I came home and saw
you watching football, I thought, 'Maybe she's forgotten who she
is?'  Well, after tonight you'll remember!  You'll have lots to
remember!  Heavy make-up!  No purse, I'll drive you there.  Move
provocatively.  Tell the world why you like to watch those
delicious guys thrusting themselves at each other over and over in
public!"

I was nervous when we left the house.  A couple walking
their dog in front of our house stopped and looked at me, mouths
agape, as I waggled from the front door to the car in my highest
spike heels.  Now I was apprehensive but prepared for anything. 
Fatalistic.  I'd committed to all this, I'd agreed to it, now I was
doing it, and there was nothing more to think.  Though after this
weekend, that would be that!

Even so, I was shocked when we pulled into the parking lot of the
Lotus Club and Debbie merely stopped, engine running, waiting. 
Then said only, "Well?  Here we are.  Get out!  I have other things
to do!  Try not to stay out too late!" 

My heart fell into my stomach!  I was momentarily terrified!   "You
won't come in with me?"

Now she really did look smug.  I was trapped!  "Of course not!  I
thought I might, but not now.  You don't need me.  And I don't need
to know how to please men!  Just hold in mind that Bruce will teach
me whatever I need to know if you're not good enough!"

"But how will I get home?  I don't have any money."

"The way any girl gets home when she's been ditched by her date! 
Sweet-talk some man into driving you home.  Feeling dependent on a
man will be good for you.  It'll make you more of a woman!"

I got out, and she drove off.  I turned toward the Lotus Club
entrance with the gravest foreboding.  The only way home was
through that door.

Six hours later I was half pushed out of a car in front of my house
by a guy who was now eager to get home himself.  When I unlocked
the door, Debbie was still up, waiting for me on the other side. 
She must have heard the car and then my fumbling.  I hoped she
didn't hear my sob as I grasped the doorknob of my home, my old
home, and realized that I would never enter it again as what I had
been.  A man who had agreed to look, behave, and feel like a girl
if he could had left the house dressed slut femme.  A bit
racy-looking.  A play-acting girl, pretending to satisfy his wife's
whims even though sometimes getting into it.  But a sperm-soaked,
slattern cock sucker had returned

For real, because that's what I now was.  An worn-down whore. 
Someone who had knelt down in front of many other men as they
arrogantly, triumphantly stretched back and thrust their pelvises
forward, who had bowed and bobbed down before them over and over as
their pricks slid in and out of her mouth.  Someone whose ass had
been used repeatedly too.  With no shred of dignity or self-respect
left.  Mouth coated with cum.  Face and leather skirt crusted with
cum.  Anus gaping and leaking cum down both legs for lack of
panties to collect and puddle it.  A human condom, filled and
tossed away.  A used scum bag.  When the door shut, I couldn't hold
it back any longer.  I began to weep quietly, first deep inside me,
then noticeably.  My manhood was gone.  Utterly lost!

Debbie was standing just inside, studying my face.  Then she threw
herself into my arms, crying out, "Oh, darling, I'm so
sorry!  So very sorry!  I never should have let you go in there
alone!  I never should have deserted you!  Never!  I was so angry! 
So stupidly angry!  Over nothing!  Over your teeny lapse, your wanting
to watch football the way you once did.  I did this to you!  I
left you alone when you most needed me!  And now look at you!  It
should have been beautiful!  And look at you!  Can you ever forgive
me?"

I was past thinking, past the ability to forgive.  Feeling her warm
body so close, feeling her sympathy, I just wrapped my arms around
her, and I buried my face onto her shoulder and started to cry even
harder.  Small gasping, mewling sounds at first, but then they
opened into loud sobs and wails.  She led me toward that same chair
in the game room I'd used to watch that football game, to watch that
tape on sucking cock a lifetime ago.   

Little by little I became aware of her sitting on my lap and
pressing her body against mine and hugging me close.  "I didn't
mean for it to be that bad, Samantha baby!  Was it that bad?  Oh,
Samantha, it was, wasn't it?  Oh, sweetheart, you look so terribly
unhappy!  I have never seen you look so miserable."

"Oh Debbie," I began.  I couldn't go on.  I was too choked.

She took charge.  "Get undressed, Samantha!  Completely!  At once!
Into the shower and into a nightie and into my bed.  You're spending
the rest of the night with me, love!  In my arms!"

I did as she asked, and soon, still numb, had crawled into bed with
her.  Everything looked so dark!  So bleak!  I wasn't a man any
more!  I was a cock sucker.  I was an open ditch.  Some man's
Nancy girl.  Many men's.  My asshole hurt.

"Oh precious baby , precious girl," Debbie said, embracing me! 
"Don't cry, sweetheart.  You're my one true love.  I know it
doesn't seem like that now, that I'm running you over hurdles and
you're jumping them just to please me, and I'm never satisfied! 
But that isn't the case at all!  I do love you.  I do want what's
best for both of us.  My sweet baby girl.  Let it all out.  It
won't be so bad.  I do understand, sweetheart!"

I allowed a racking sob to escape me.  Then another.  Then there
was no holding them back.  "Oh Debbie," I cried out in my anguish. 
"I'm not a man any more!  All I wanted was a little pleasure from
you, and now look!  I'm not a man!" 

"I know dear sweet baby, I know.  You're not a man any more. 
You're better!  You're my girl!  Just think that thought, over and
over -- you're my girl.  Then it won't be so bad.  Girls suck cocks
all the time, and they don't suffer for it.  It's nice.  It's how
they express their femininity.  It's what girls do, isn't it. 
You've said so yourself, often enough!  So just think of yourself
as a girl who sucks cock.  Girls like it.  Didn't you like it just
a little?"

I had to wait a long minute to answer her, and I had to swallow
once or twice.  But I had to tell her everything!  I had to
maintain absolute honesty with my own wife!   In a barely audible
voice I said, "Some.  Some of them!  That's the trouble!  Oh,
Debbie!" 

She embraced me.  "Yes, love.  Of course you did!  From the very
first?  Tell me all about it!"

"None of them at first.  But those tubes kept coming at me, and I
hoped it would get sort of mindless, you know?  Like with Mr.
Dildo?  But each cock was different!  And felt different in my
mouth!  And some of the men were mean and some were nice, really
appreciative.  I liked the nice ones.  Then after a while even some
of the mean ones, if they had really impressive cocks, because, oh
Debbie, I felt privileged to do cocks that big!  And they'd groan
and grunt, and beg for me to bring them off!  There was this
feeling of ... gratification.  Of power!  I did like it!  Then when
they came they'd call me a whore!  By then I guess I was!"

"Why, honey?  You were doing it for love, not money.  How were you
a whore?"

"I don't know!"

"So they were wrong, weren't they?"

"I guess.  Maybe!  When the bartender first saw what I wanted he
told me to use one of the back rooms.  'The guys who want you will
find you,' he said.  'Marlene isn't here tonight.  She's our
regular here.  So you can fill in this once.  I get ten percent.' 
And he handed me two clean bar towels, telling me there were clean
sheets, but I'd need these.  I told him I wouldn't charge.  He was
surprised.  'On the house?' he asked.  'Night on the town, mister? 
You do it for the fun of it?  OK, some of our 'girls' do that too! 
Enjoy!  But keep it down!  Don't disturb the regular customers!' 
I promised I wouldn't, so I didn't.  Even when, even when ...."  I
was stopped by my own deep, racking sob.

"Even when what, honey?"  Her arms were tight around my neck, and
her legs were wrapped tight around my thighs for the first time 
in many weeks.  We were cuddled together as snug as was possible. 
My soft prick was squeezed against her opening, though it never
stirred.

"Oh, Debbie!"  I hesitated, then blurted it out.  "They raped me!"

"Did they?"  Debbie sounded less horrified than I expected.  "Did
it hurt?"

"The first time yes, it did.  He was a lot more rough than Mr.
Dildo, and my saliva on him wasn't slippery enough I guess.  But he
left so much cum in me that the next guy slid right in.  Then it
was ...."

"Then it was what, baby doll?"

"Oh, Debbie!"  I started to cry again.  "It was so easy!  I got so
slippery and stretched out and ... I began to help them!"

"And began to move that sweet ass of yours back against those men
in rhythm?  Because it felt so good?"

"Oh, Debbie!" was all I could reply.  

"You got excited and came yourself?"

I nodded.

"Several times?"

I nodded again.

She understood and hugged me silently.  Sympathy poured from her as
she clinched my body to hers.  But also satisfaction!  I could feel
it.

"Sweetheart, that's terrible!  I feel so sorry for you!  No girl
should go through that her first time!  But now you know what it
can be like, don't you?  Don't you?  Yes!  Well, we'll make it up
to you tonight.  We'll make sure that tonight you'll have a
beautiful experience!  Gabe is a tender, kind, considerate man.  A
real love!  Someone you can enjoy!"

"Debbie!" I sobbed.  "I'm a man!  I'm not gay!  I don't want to
have sex with men!  I feel so ... used!  So inferior!"

"Honey, concentrate on that.  Say it to yourself.  'I'm not an
inferior man, I'm Debbie's girlfriend!  I'm a beautiful intelligent
girl and I'm attractive to men, and I love it when men want to get
close to me.  Say it to me!"

Somehow her words were actually comforting.  "I'm not a man," I
said dispiritedly.  Now that a man -- and how many men afterward?
-- had been in my mouth and in my ass, how could I respect myself
as a man?  "I'm an attractive girl.  Your girl friend."

"And?"

"I like it when men like me."

I repeated that last phrase several times.  It was actually
consoling!  I snuggled up close and she held me close, her smooth
warm skin pressing against mine, her softness squeezed on mine.  I
couldn't tell where I ended and Debbie began.  We were like two
naked women together in bed, for a moment, pressing softly against
each other.  No, I was her husband, a man who had just sucked cock. 

But somehow it was comforting to be Debbie's girlfriend.  In the
morning I'd tell her more about some of the guys who visited me in
that back room.  Old codgers, college kids, tough guys, refined
gentlemen.  All sorts of men went to that gay bar!  One kept saying
'Thank you, Lord!' with every push, and wanted to blow me in return
for his fuck.  But I was all spurted out by then, my groin awash in
cum with more trickling from my gaping anus, and more boy friends
waiting their turn outside the door.  Most never said a word.  One
had a silly, penny-ante ego, and thought he was a superior creature
because my kind of girl had gone down on him and was sucking him
off, when in fact any girl could have had him -- he was easy.  We'd
share a laugh or two about that afterward, about the strange ways
men behave when they're in heat.

Gradually my sobs quieted, and as I fell asleep, I realized I could
have dribbled cum into any of my lovers' mouths if I'd thought of
it.  Made them cock suckers too, at one remove.  They'd have agreed
to let me kiss them, I didn't doubt it for a moment, and that was
all it took!  Then maybe they too would find they couldn't forget
how it tasted and felt on their tongues!  But they'd have deserved
it!  Maybe even liked it.  I guess despite everything, I liked it!

                              x.

After my night at the Lotus Club, Gabe was easy.  Boy pussies are
as resilient and stretchy as girls' vaginas, I guess, if they
aren't torn by misuse.  Mine felt fine by early evening the next
day.  Maybe it was a vaginal hormone cream Debbie spread on my
pussy lips the next morning to soothe them, but even by noon I
began to feel empty, to yearn to feel re-filled down there, a
little.  Maybe it was also a little something extra Debbie put into
my milk shake, but all day long I felt sweet and pretty, just
lovely, eager for another big adventure!  I kept smiling and
humming, I don't know why!

Marcie came over in the late morning, and the three of us went
shopping and had lunch.  She herself selected the outfit I'd wear
for her husband.  A little retro, a draped satin blouse and short
velvet skirt, rather flattering we all agreed, and very
provocative.  And of course black stockings and a garter belt --
men are such fetishists about that kind of gear.  Black lace
crotchless panties.  I don't think we stopped giggling together the
whole time about male sexuality and its demands and dreams!  That
strange species!  And I enjoyed being the center of my two dear
girlfriends' attentions!

I told them both about a few of my boy friends from the previous
evening, the pathetic grunting and the loud victory cries when
finally they got off.  We all three agreed it was far better to be
a woman and have them service us than the other way around.  When
we parted Marcie couldn't get over how much I'd changed even from
the woman she'd watched exercising only a week or so earlier. 
"You've really done wonders with him, Debbie!" she kept telling my
wife.  And "Samantha, you're so lucky to have Debbie -- so many men
would eat their hearts out to be where she's put you!  I'm so happy
for you now!"  To me privately she added in a low voice, "You were
OK before, honey, but you're really great now!"  I had to agree.  

Gabriel -- I sensed immediately that both of us preferred
"Gabriel," not "Gabe" -- turned out to be compliant enough, and
unlike any of the men the previous night ready to submit to
anything I proposed.  Marcie had him thoroughly tamed!  A tiger in
the office but a pussycat in bed, maybe as an escape from heavy
responsibilities at work, maybe simply because Marcie wanted him
that way, easier to deal with or deceive.  A true sub!  A very nice
man, really!  He arrived home from his office party slightly
tizzled.  Marcie wished him a happy birthday, introduced me as her
dearest girlfriend, then said she was leaving the two of us alone
for a few hours, she had to see Debbie about something.  And she
was gone.  

I looked at him, and he looked at me.  I realized he had no idea
who or what I was, and I wasn't sure he remembered why I was there. 
So I took charge.  On impulse I said, "Why are you still in that
chair?  Shouldn't you be on your knees when I'm in the same room
with you?"  He leaped up at once and apologetically fell to his
knees!  Just drunk enough, and gentleman enough, and submissive
enough!

And that set the tone for the evening!  From then on, everything we
did together was at my expressed command, to service my desires. It
was wonderful, ordering a grown man around for once!  What a treat! 
I got him down to the buff, naked and cringing in embarrassment --
even though he didn't have a bad build at all -- and he was mine! 
I let him undo my satin blouse and my bra, and I dangled my breasts
over his mouth enticingly before lowering them first one, then the
other, to where he could close his lips over them like a baby.  He
sucked on one, then the other so gratefully and deliciously that I
wondered if Marcie would hire him out to me by the hour!  Who was
the whore now?  His lips on my tits were heavenly!

He was a prize!  I blew him as a reward for smooching my ass,
because I'd promised Marcie I would, and then when he'd recovered
his breath and his erection I got onto my knees and thrust my cute
buttocks high in the air, and reached under and guided him into me,
because I'd promised Marcie that's what I'd do.  And because I
wanted to reward him for being so nice!  He was so excited he never
noticed my genitals I'm sure.  He mounted me like an eager puppy,
and by the time he'd cum deep inside me he was practically my
slave!  

I patted him on the head as I left their house, and told him to be
grateful for everything Marcie allowed him to do for her.  He
nodded, eyes wide, imprinting my words on his mind.  I told him to
call her "Miss Marcie" whenever they were alone, to emphasize that
he had no claims on her, that she could go do whatever she wanted
at any time.  He nodded.  "With anyone," I added wickedly.  He
nodded slowly, more reluctantly I thought.  "Even stay out with
someone else all night," I added on impulse, because Marcie had
done that with me during our week together but had worried about
him the whole time, what he'd think.  That brought such a pained,
mournful expression to his face as he struggled to agree that I
added, "If she needs to punish you for failing to please her."  He
nodded, grateful for the condition, obviously resolving never to
give her cause.  

When I got back home, Marcie and Debbie were chatting in the
kitchen.  I smiled and told Marcie she would find him a changed
man.  She later phoned Debbie to say he was indeed changed,
miraculously and wonderfully, a new man!  That Debbie should be
sure to thank me!  When Debbie asked me what in the world I'd done
with him, I told her teasingly that some girls know secrets about
some men.  Better for me if Debbie doesn't know them, I was
thinking.  Or did she? 

I felt wonderfully self-confident after my little session with
Gabriel.  Filled with pride in the power of my own femininity.
Self-assured.  Ready for Bruce.  The next morning was Friday, the
beginning of my long-awaited weekend.  I was plenty ready to play
girlie with Bruce while Debbie watched, if she chose.  Now I was
sure I could teach her a few things.  

Debbie went to her office to attend last minute matters, and all
through the morning I laid out and packed my different outfits --
for travelling, for cocktails, for the pool, for the formal
Saturday Night dance, and of course intimate wear for lounging in
private.  And for bed, the most gorgeous nightgowns any girl ever
put on and then took off.  Even for church on Sunday if I woke up
in time and chose to go -- I had the most darling black suit, the
jacket snug at the waist, flared at the hips and bursting at the
bodice, where a modest froth lace dickey barely concealed the cleft
between my breasts.  It was divine!  I'd heard that all
sorts of re-couplings took place after chapel at the Avalon,
when men and women alike could feel that all their sins were
forgiven, their spirits refreshed, and physical communion with
others especially desirable.  I certainly didn't want to feel left 
out.  

The phone rang!  It was Debbie calling from her office.

"You about ready, Samantha honey?  Excited?"

"You know I am, Debbie!  It'll be lovely!  Will you be home soon?"

"That's just it, baby!  I'm a bit delayed here.  I still have
things to do, and I still have to get home to pick up a few things. 
Why don't you come down here now and I'll introduce you to
Bruce.  Then you two can go on ahead and I'll meet you at the
Avalon in time for dinner, if I can get away by then."

"All right!"  I felt a momentary pang.  Despite my self-confidence
the idea was a bit daunting.  None of Debbie's associates knew what
had been happening with me, about my transformation.  So far as I
knew, anyhow.  What would they think of me, a man who chose to be
a woman?  I did it well, I knew that now.  But still!  

I suddenly realized, now I'd be one more of those man-women who
came to the office to meet Bruce and then go out with him!  How
would I stack up against those other girls?  Debbie had said that
the girls in the office were usually envious of them.  Would they
envy me?  I hoped so!

There was no problem, as it turned out.  

I stopped off at Vita's on the way in for touching up, and Allison
was awe struck at the improvement in my appearance.  "You're really
into this now, aren't you," she said.  "I've started in on my
boyfriend.  Had him in here a few times.  He might even turn out 
to be as cute as you!  But he fights me every step!  He knows the 
more I work him over, the less attractive he is to other girls.  
But when I kick him out I want him to be a real fairy princess!  
Any advice?"

"Deck him out and set him up in a back room at the Lotus Club," I
told her.  "That's what Debbie did to help me accept it my new gender. 
Guaranteed to take the starch out of any man.  After a session like
that there's no way for a man to respect himself as a man.  Or
survive as a man.  When he remembers what he's done, what men have
done to him, how he felt when they did it, he'll have to go gay or
accept that he's a girl.  Or do both!"

"Both would be beautiful," Allison commented.  "If he turned out
like you I might even keep him!  Not as a boyfriend any more of
course!  Does your wife have boyfriends on the side now that you're
no longer qualified?"  

Again, a thought that had never occurred to me!  But this was not
the weekend to worry about such a thing -- I was now committed to
sleep with my own boyfriend, after all, with no time to worry
whether Debbie was doing the same thing!  Was she?  Who?  When,
during my road trips?  Someone better than me at making her happy? 
I'd never reached her sexually, until she started making me into a
replica of herself, sort of.  Was that what this was all about? Not
likely!  

No, there was no time to think about it!

Allison decided that for my big weekend I should have huge
eyelashes to bat innocently at my man from between his legs, and
she glued and interwove them with painstaking care.  "Don't worry,
Samantha," she said.  "With what I'm doing, they won't come off
until you want them to come off.  And when you see them, you won't
want them to come off ever."  She held up a mirror.  When I saw the
effect, demure yet deeply seductive, I had to agree.  I had heavy
lashes.  I saw the world as if from underneath a thick fringe that
swept down with every blink.  One more thing girls do to look
attractive for guys!  It was remarkable though how those lashes
made me into a woman of mystery!  The tricks we learn!

When I arrived at Debbie's office I was perfect -- flawless makeup
on top of the indelible colors I always wore, every curl fetching,
one curl pulled down teasingly in front of each ear, a few
"accidentally" but charmingly tumbling over and softening my brow,
eyes intriguing.  Debbie's secretary Maria looked up at me with her
professionally welcoming face for a moment before she realized who
I was, then broke into a radiant smile!  

"Samantha!" she said!  "You're gorgeous!  Debbie told us you've
been coming along fabulously, but none of us dared dream you'd
finish up looking this good!  I'll tell her you're here!"

Us?  Debbie's whole office knew?  Maria pressed a button on her
intercom and still looking at me she said, "He's here, Debbie.  And
I must say, you've done a marvelous job with him!  I'd never know
if I didn't already know.  He's perfect!  Bruce will eat him up!" 
And I heard Debbie reply, "You have that backward, honey!  But
that's what we wanted, isn't it?  Tell him I'll be right out!"

Knowing I'd heard, she cocked one high plucked eyebrow at me,
smiled, and said nothing.  I cocked one of mine at her, and the two
of us grinned.

"If you should ever want to leave Debbie, honey," she said.  "I
want first dibs on you!"

That was flattering, but what did it mean?  That Maria was a
lesbian?  That she sensed I could be a dominant woman, as I'd been
with Gabriel, and she liked that?  That she'd like to tie up with
a male she could manipulate?  Could I possibly be dominant with
a woman?  I never had been.  As a man I'd always been courteous and
polite, considerate if not submissive.  The way I now was as a 
woman.  The way I'd become a woman.  Or was I just being
cooperative, doing whatever Debbie asked for this one weekend in
exchange for a lifetime of blow jobs?  Had I in fact given up my 
manhood altogether in exchange for that lifetime of blow jobs?  
Would there be anything there for Debbie to blow for much longer? 
Was there a contradiction there somewhere?  Was Debbie's secretary 
straight but something of a trannie hag, she liked feminized men?  

Too many mysteries here.  I gave up speculating.

Debbie appeared.  "I may not be able to get away until late,"
she told me, her eyes signifying admiration for the way I'd gotten
dolled up -- Vita had been my own spur-of-the-moment idea -- but
also regret that she'd miss out on early stages of my
long-anticipated performance.  "But you and Bruce will hit it off,
I'm sure!  Come, I'll introduce you."

Down the hall to another door, a quick knock, a rich male voice
calling "Come!" and we were inside his office.  I stared, and he
looked back at me with a faintly amused expression.  Mocking,
superior, thinking that here was one more straight guy gone crooked
for the sake of a mere woman, a temptation to which he was of
course immune?  No, I realized, it was his usual expression,
reflecting a certain detached self-confidence.  It was in fact
rather appealing.  Here was the man who was what all this had been
about!  Satisfying him sexually.  Satisfying Debbie by satisfying
him sexually, so Debbie would be willing to satisfy me, strictly
speaking, though that point was now just about lost among the
preliminaries and contingencies.

"Samantha," Debbie said, needlessly doing the formal honors.  "This
is Bruce.   Bruce, Samantha.  I suspect you two will get on
splendidly.  But I have work to do -- please excuse me!"  

I looked around, and she was gone!  I looked at Bruce and he looked 
at me -- a cat checking out a canary?  No, he was all solicitude!

"We'd better get going," he said, coming around from behind his
desk.  "Want to use the Ladies' first, Samantha?  It's a two hour
drive, and we'll only just arrive in time for cocktails as is."  He
then paused, recalling his manners.  "You're just lovely, Samantha! 
Everything Debbie promised you'd be!"  

"Thank you," I said.  I felt pleased by the compliment, even though
its meaning was obscure -- it was only a gay man's welcome to a
recent convert, sort of.  "You're rather handsome yourself!"  He
was, too, just as Debbie had described him.  Dark, almost piercing
eyes, and a lithe way of moving.  Unaccountably I felt a bit
nervous -- would he be satisfied with me after all?  I was glad I'd
thought to stop at Vita's for a last touch up and polish.  I did
want to look pretty for him! 

We drove to the Avalon in near silence,.  He knew I think that I
needed some time to get used to his physical presence after he'd
been a figment of my imagination all these weeks, and he didn't 
force conversation.  I kept glancing over at him as he drove.  I 
liked what I saw -- some rough-hewn edges even alongside the polished. 
Now and then I caught him glancing at me too, and when our eyes met
he always smiled at me reassuringly.  By the time we arrived I felt
comfortable.  I found a way to be.  Not compliant or he'd find me
tiresome.  Not dominant or he'd feel annoyed.  Coquettish felt just
about right!  Teasing.

"You've been here before, I see," I mused as he paused to pick up
a key at the registration desk, then skillfully navigated through
two parking lots and stopped the car alongside the "Honeymoon
Villa" Debbie had reserved for us.  "Have you taken many honeymoons
before this one?"

"Lots," he replied, with an appreciative grin.  "With lots of
brides."

"Grooms too, I bet," I said.  He looked puzzled.  I decided not to
press it.  Lots of men have limited wit for small talk.  

He carried our luggage from the car into the villa.  It was
luxurious enough, with tapestries and draperies everywhere, both a
tub and an enclosed shower, a patio with a jacuzzi, a
well-furnished sitting room, and on an elevated platform in the
middle of the largest room, a huge round bed.  Then, in an
adjoining alcove though in full view of that massive round bed,
another smaller bed.  

"Look," I said, pointing at the extra bed.  "If this is a Honeymoon
suite, what's that for?  A mother-in law?"

Bruce was amused.  "No, not in this case.  Debbie asked for that
bed.  Maybe she doesn't trust her husband alone in bed with another
man, and wants to see for herself that they don't begin fooling
around?  Maybe it's for whoever snores the loudest?  Don't worry,
baby, it'll be used!  Now change into something romantic, and we'll
try the restaurant after a little tete-a-tete at the bar.  Do you
dance?"    

"No," I said, trying to send him a smoldering look from underneath
my heavy eyelashes.  Then I wriggled my hips.  "But if you whistle
a few bars, I can fake it."

He appreciated that one.  "Good.  I love dancing.  You just follow
my lead, all right?"

"Yes, certainly, sir," I replied, maybe a little too flippantly.

"Even when we aren't on the dance floor," he added, looking
directly at me from under those dark brows.

"Anywhere," I said, realizing that he was establishing our rules of
engagement.  "But especially on the dance floor."

For our first night together I'd chosen a pale blue silk organza,
the most romantic dress I owned.  He was waiting for me in the
sitting room when I emerged, and the way he looked at me made all
the trouble I'd taken over all the previous weeks well worth while! 
"Thank you!" I said before he could speak, with a gracious lilt in
my voice.  "You don't have to say anything.  Your face just said it
all!"

He took my hand.  "Then let's just go in."  

                                xi.

I didn't need to glance at him this time as we walked toward the
bar and restaurant in the main building.  I knew he couldn't take
his eyes off me.  I smiled to myself the whole time.  I felt the
secret pleasure any woman feels when she knows she's being admired,
of course.  But even more, my task this evening was to provide my
man blissful satisfaction, and I knew it would be much easier if he
was entranced, even enamored by me.  I have never felt so euphoric,
so able!  So fulfilled!

I stoked his fires through a long cocktail hour and a two hour
dinner, with conversation and dancing between drinks, and a fine
wine accompanying.   I took my women's magazines' advice and got
him talking about himself, his work and his hopes, and found that
he was a pretty nice guy!  If we weren't designated lovers, we
might have been pals.  As it was, I didn't need to overact much to
register wide-eyed, awed admiration for him.  He knew I was trying,
of course, but he felt flattered by my efforts nevertheless.

He led me to the dance floor with each pause between drinks and
then with each interval between courses, and as the alcohol levels
in my blood elevated I found warmth toward him rising as well.  He
was a superb dancer, just as Debbie'd suggested.  He held me close
during the slow dances and I could feel by the way his thighs and
hips moved how I should follow him.  For the first time I felt a
man's semi-erect penis against my midriff.  At first I wasn't sure
what it was -- it seemed to me enormous.  At every opportunity I
writhed against it, until there was no doubt what it was,
king-sized and fully erect!  If I could have brought him off on the
dance floor by rubbing my silk-clad belly up and down on him, or
the cleft of my ass on my turns, my eyelids draped shut in an
erotic daze as I backed and rotated into him, I would have.  I
certainly tried!

Then during the big beat numbers he was a joy to watch.  His
rhythmic inventiveness with his body was astonishing, and as I
tried to imitate his gestures I was grateful for all the dancing
I'd done to those tapes, especially all those efforts to perfect
distinctly feminine, girl gestures.  I knew he was watching as I
preened and stretched my now-supple body, and I exaggerated some
gestures into seemingly orgasmic rapture.  But my smiling
admiration for him was sincere, and I grew more affectionate as he
showed warm appreciation for it.  

Finally I couldn't uncouple from him as he led me back to our
Honeymoon Villa, both my arms wrapped around his waist, kissing him
wherever my lips could reach him.  When we arrived back I steered
him straight toward a large easy chair, and as he sat back in it I
knelt and removed his shoes as if I were handmaiden to a sultan. 
He closed his eyes and smiled.  Then unbuckled his belt.  Another
smile.  Then I pulled his pants down to his ankles, and with a
flourish, pulled down his underpants.

And there it was!  My God!  Larger by far than that oversized dildo
mounted on a chair I'd been working over with my mouth and my ass. 
Larger than any of the men's who'd entered me by either orifice in
the back room of the Lotus Club.  Far larger than Gabriel's!  As
the weather-lady might have put it, his cock stood four hands high,
the crown rising well-above his navel!  I was already kneeling, so
I couldn't help it.  I kissed the tip in an awed act of homage!  I
clutched it with both hands, like a scepter or badge of office, and
as Stacy had demonstrated, began to masturbate whatever wasn't in
my mouth.

"Oh, my God!" I cried in a higher tone of voice than I had ever
heard myself utter before!  "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!"  I had never dreamed
there were cocks like this one!  Far larger than any on those
pornographic tapes I'd watched!  Truly big-league, as Debbie had
warned me!  I was grateful for the world of experience that had
prepared me for this moment.

And those were the last sounds I uttered for the next thirty
minutes, except for an occasional moan as I tried feverishly to
kiss, lick, lip, suck, and swallow that tower, to extend my throat
to wrap around it as I forced it deeper and deeper into my gullet,
then withdrew my head to allow me a deep breath before another
plunge to contain it completely!  Faster and faster, as we both
began to breathe more quickly and heavily.  Until finally he
clutched my head and pushed my nose into his pubic hair and I felt
that cock throb, and throb, and throb, and I knew he was pumping
sweet jism direct into my stomach.  I was so eager to taste this
marvelous man that for his last spurt I pulled back and held the
head in my mouth.  He was so sweet!  And it was so silky smooth on 
my tongue!  I swallowed it gratefully!

When he recovered his breath, I was still licking my lips, still
trying to mix my own saliva in with his residual sticky stuff so
there would be even more to swallow, and still swallowing every
last delectable drop.  No one ever sucked any man's cock more
eagerly than I sucked that man's!

"That was just great, Samantha!" he said, looking down
appreciatively.  "But you didn't once look me in the eye!  Were you
ashamed?"

"Oh, no, Bruce, no!  Never!"  I said in a hoarse voice.  I was
horrified he might think so!  "I loved it!  I want to do it again! 
Now!  It was the greatest experience of my life!  But I
couldn't take you all the way into my throat and also look at you
at the same time!  You're...."  A small sob escaped me.  "You're so
huge!"  

"If you want to do it again now, go ahead, Samantha!  We have the
whole weekend!  No time like the present!"

"Are you sure?"  I was astonished.  Twice in a row?  Sure enough,
his massive cock stood as tall as ever, glistening now from my
saliva and no doubt lightly coated with his own cum.  

"This time it'll go down even easier," he said.  "Try it!"

I did.  It did.  He took longer to cum this time, nearly an hour,
and I can't say I was as passionate as I was the first time, though
I know I was every bit as loving.  This time when I recognized the
telltale signs of his oncoming climax I withdrew my head and caught
all of his sperm in my mouth, swallowing it as rapidly as I could
and gargling with the last mouthful to ease my ravaged and
distended throat.  "Thank you!" I croaked to him gratefully when it
was all snug inside me.

"All yummy in your tummy, lover?" suddenly came a voice from a
darkened corner of the room!  Debbie's voice!  Debbie was here!  
She'd seen it all!?  She knew that her husband was now what 
she'd wanted him to be all along?  A horny and skilled girl who 
loved sucking on a really impressive cock?

"Debbie!!" I tried to shout in surprise, though it came out as a
whisper.  "Have you been there for long?"

"Oh yes," she said.  I still couldn't see her.  "I arrived to find
you preening your belly and your ass on Bruce's cock on the dance
floor, in public, behaving like such a flirtatious wanton I came
back here to wait for you to get serious!  As you've now done!  And
very nicely, too, I must say!  The first time head over heels, and
this second time devout, dedicated.  You're a credit to your
femininity, Samantha.  Or to your training!" 

I was glad to hear that.  Debbie had warned me there could be no
holding back, but I'd loved what I was doing, craved it in fact, so
the problem had never even crossed my mind!  I was sure Bruce was
completely satisfied!  But I decided then and there to strengthen
his endorsement of me for her ears, so there'd be no doubt about
it.  "Did I do this better than your gay friends do it?" I asked
him coyly, my voice now seductively rough and low from so much cock
in my throat for so long.

He looked puzzled.  "What gay friends, Samantha?"

"The cute guys who come to your office to meet you sometimes, to go
out for the evening.  Looking like girls.  Like me this afternoon. 
Debbie told me about them."

"Oh, those women who come calling on me?  They really do swarm
sometimes -- I suppose the word gets out about my equipment, and
sometimes it seems that half the human race wants to try it out. 
Lots manage to do it, too."  

He smiled down on me, and wiped what I suppose was a streak of his
spunk from the corner of my mouth with his finger, then held it out
for me to lick.  I licked it.  He nodded.  

"I suppose they are gorgeous -- I've noticed how the girls at the
office always check them out when they show up.  Mostly for hints
on dressing and make up.  They're really smooth chicks, all of
them.  A lot of them are actresses or models."

Something about this didn't sound right.  "Transvestites?  Gays? 
Actresses?"  

Bruce looked bewildered, maybe also a little wary, as if perhaps I
wasn't all there though I was still kneeling between his knees.  "I
suppose some are lesbians, you never know.  Or bisexual.  But trust
me, they are all definitely female!  You're my first man, by
special arrangement with your wife!  Though in your case, not
really a man as I understand it!"  

Now it was my turn to be bewildered.

A thought seemed to occur to him.  "There was one girl I found out
right away was bisexual.  She showed up at the office, and Debbie
took an immediate interest in her.  They got on each other's
wavelengths the moment she arrived, without saying a word. 
They started eyeing each other and you couldn't cut the air
between them with a knife!  Debbie got her to break her date with
me and go off to a motel with her instead.  Or did she go home to
share her with you?  She told me the next morning that she owed 
me one for that, and she looked very satisfied indeed, I must say.
This weekend is also a kind of payment to me for that.  As well 
as a favor.  And an obligation too."  

What was he talking about!?  Debbie?  I was still on my knees in
front of Bruce while he lounged back at his ease in his overstuffed
chair, his hand still idly ruffling and twisting my curls.  I was
vaguely aware that Debbie was sitting silently in her dark corner
watching this drama unfold, making no effort to interrupt.  I
looked up at Bruce from under my heavy eyelashes!  What I could see
of his face was looking down at me benignly, but that long, thick
cock still blocked most of my vision.  It had stopped softening and
stood there half-swollen.  Even after a second time!  I tried to
lift my head to say something, but somehow his hand casually
stroking my hair was unyielding.  My nose sank deep in his huge
balls.  

Staring up as best I could, I tried to understand.  "My Debbie once
went off with one of your gay friends who looks like a girl?" I
asked timorously.

Bruce furrowed his brow.  "She went off once with one of the girls
I date.  They all look like a girls, Samantha, because that's what
they are.  Girls.  What's your problem?"

"You aren't gay?  You date girls?  You don't date only gay men who
look like girls?"

He stared at me now a little sympathetically.  "No, Samantha.  I'm
not gay.  Not at all.  You're my first!  As payback, and as a
favor.  Debbie talked me into it.  She can be very persuasive, as
you know.  Do you think I think you're still essentially a man in
some way?  No.  I don't date men.  I do sometimes date transsexual
women, because they're women."

What's going on?!  I felt disoriented!  "What did she tell you
about me?," I asked him.  

"That her husband needed to suck a guy's cock, and she wanted that
guy to be me."  

"Did she tell you the reason why?"

"No.  I already knew the reason why.  I've known for a year or
more.  In fact it's been a couple of years since some of us began
to speculate about what's wrong with you, that you can't keep her
satisfied at home."

What did that mean?  Something's wrong with me?  I had better keep
to one thing at a time, I decided.  "What speculations?"

"Well, one notion was that you're gay.  That you married her for
cover, so no one would know.  So you could do your things and she
could do hers."

"She said that?  What things?  She told you I'm gay?"

"No, that was only the rumor. She was amused when she heard that. 
"If that were true, it'd be easy," she told me.

"What would be easy?"

"I never asked her.  We both had other things on our minds.  She
did explain to me why you're dressed the way you are.  You've
always felt that you're a woman in a man's body.  So whenever
possible you wear the clothes, and behave like a women, and now
you've finally made a commitment to live all the time as a woman. 
To celebrate, Debbie thought you should have an opportunity to suck
a real man's cock, and that's why she asked me to help out.  And
now you've done it!  You haven't gotten yourself a pussy just yet,
you still have a prick.  So you have still problems expressing
yourself sexually.  But that'll change in due time."

Worse and worse!  "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Debbie, who else?  It explained why she looks elsewhere for sex. 
We've all wondered."

I began to feel sick.  Could Bruce be putting me on?

"Is this true, Debbie?  Did you tell everyone I'm a transsexual?  
To explain why you look where?"

"Not everyone, love," came Debbie's voice from the dark.  She
sounded unshakably pleased with herself!  "Not everyone.  Some 
only recently.  Marcie for example -- she learned about you only 
a few weeks ago.  And she didn't believe it -- she had to come see 
for herself.  She told me you were all man back when you two were 
getting it on.  I told her you were confused then, but now you had 
to be who you were, same as me.  And don't you?  What are you?  
Tell Bruce!  But remember what you promised me before you open your 
mouth.  The weekend isn't over!"

I was glad for the reminder.  The wrong answer could undo everything!  
"I'm a girl," I told Bruce.

"Did I doubt it?"  He was still lounging back, amused by this whole 
conversation.  

"Yes, you are, sweetheart," Debbie went on.  "And you enjoy it, 
too!  Both ways, submissive or dominant, depending on the man!  
Like with Gabe -- wasn't he fun?  I knew you'd want to order 
Gabe around before you took on someone like Bruce.  And wasn't I right?
Didn't it re-establish your pride and self-confidence as a woman after 
your Lotus Club men shook you up a little?" 

She was avoiding the other subject!  Why?  "You look elswehere 
for sex?  You went off with one of Bruce's girls once?  You've ...."
I was overwhelmed!  Confused and vertiginous!  Who was this woman?!  A
wave of nausea rose up, and I leaped to my feet and rushed off to
the bathroom to retch.  And barely made it!  Bruce's sperm gone!  
A stray thought, now I needed to replace it in my tummy!  I rinsed 
out my mouth, and returned.

Bruce was still where he had been.  But there, kneeling between his
knees where I had been, there now was Debbie!  His cock head in her 
mouth!  Both hands sliding up and down his shaft in the approved Stacy
manner!!  She was giving him a blow job!  My blow job!  I was appalled.
"What!" I spluttered.  "What?"

Debbie lifted her head.  "Don't be selfish, sweetheart!  You've
just enjoyed it, and now it's my turn!"  She returned her attention 
that enormous pole. 

"That wasn't enjoyment!" I shouted, as loud as I could with my
rasping throat!  "I did it because you said that's the only way
you'd do me!  Remember?"  

"I saw you, sweetie," Debby replied, licking a drop of pre-cum 
off the tip, then smiling into Bruce's eyes but still talking to me.
"You loved it!  Don't tell me you didn't.  And you're not wrong!  
It *is* wonderful to have a cock like this in your mouth. 
Just as that tape said, remember?  Just as you've been claiming for 
years, even though you took a lot of persuading when I challenged 
you to put your mouth where your words were.  Both sides of your 
mouth!  You certainly know now!  Isn't that so?"

"I don't know anything!"  I was utterly addled!  I didn't!  I just
stood there!  On the verge of tears, again!

Bruce intervened diplomatically.  "Samantha!," he said consolingly. 
"Don't fret. Go change -- I bet you brought some lovely nightgowns
and negligees!  Your wife's only getting me ready for my next event
with you, that's all!  Up the ass!  To see if you're as good a fuck
as you are a cock sucker!"

"I ...!  You ...!"  I just stood there speechless!  Apart from
everything else, the prospect of Bruce's telephone pole in my rear
end was frightening.  I'd gotten well-stretched, but not that much!

"Go do what Bruce says, sweetie!" Debbie told me firmly, rising to 
her feet while Bruce again sat silent, watching her with admiration.
She was still wearing her business suit, and now she was all business,
commanding, disciplined.  "And remember to douche yourself!  Then 
when you come back I'll allow you to fuck me, and I assure you it 
will be as satisfying for you as any sex with me you've had.  Hurry!
Watching you make love to Bruce has really turned me on!  You'll want 
to take advantage of that now, won't you?"

I had nothing to say.  I was overloaded!

"Samantha, just do what I say!"  Her voice was sharp!  I turned to
do just that!

"Samantha!"

I turned back.

"What do you say when I tell you to do something!"

"Yes, ma'am," I said, as mindlessly as Gabriel had said it to me
only the previous night.  Are all men that easily dominated by women? 
Was I still a man?

When I returned in one of the gowns I'd brought for this weekend of
love,  Bruce was completely naked though still sitting at his ease
in his chair.  His boner was as tall as ever!  Debbie was lying on
her back on our huge, circular bed wearing the very same
provocative nightgown I'd bought her for her last birthday, when
I'd hoped to warm her up with sexy presents, as usual to no avail. 
By now I'd absorbed what Bruce had claimed about her, and I wanted
to ask about those alleged infidelities!  With another women. 
Other women?  Other men?  

But before I could even formulate a question, Debbie said in the
most powerfully seductive voice I have ever heard from any woman,
"You look ravishing, sweetheart!  Come ravish me, this very minute!"
She held out her arms, and lifted and spread her knees!

And I couldn't help myself!  I ran toward her and flew on top of
her, and with a momentary shifting of my hips I entered her.  To
the hilt!  Her arms closed on my neck, gripping it tight and
pulling my face down to hers.  Her knees closed over my waist,
gripping me to her even more firmly, and she lifted our crotches
high up off the bed.  Our breasts crushed against each other!  I
was locked onto her, into her, unable to escape!  Bliss!  I began 
to move.  Heaven!  

Concentrating on the feel of our silky satin nightgowns rubbing on
each other, and the pressure of our soft breasts, and her strong
smooth arms and thighs, I didn't notice Bruce lowering himself on
top of me until I felt a firm, soft rubbery probing of my anus, and
realized that Debbie was holding my exposed asshole utterly open to
Bruce's cock, that I was about to be invaded!  I tried to move, but
Debbie only gripped me tighter with her legs as she held my cheeks 
wide apart, as if passionately refusing to separate from me.  She 
too began to move, and I couldn't help it, I began to move my cock 
in her pussy in response.  With each upward humping to gather force, 
my asshole pressed more firmly against that stubborn pole of Bruce's.
Then one violently yearning movement on Debbie's part pushed me high 
up and back and impaled me before I could lunge back into her, and
Bruce's tip was inside me!  

Then slowly, methodically, he began to fuck me.  In and in, with
delicious care.  I did stretch to welcome him in, and I clinched
and hugged his cock affectionately with my rear muscles, over and
over.  When at last his hips leaned on my plump rear and I felt
pressure high up in my belly I knew he had gone all the way into
me.  And then he began to withdraw.  That delicious fulfilled but
then deprived feeling was back, gratifyingly, and despite myself I
went rapturous!  My movements quickly took on his rhythms, as they
had done when we were slow dancing and I was led by subtle
movements of his hips.  I became a slave to those movements.  His
cock in my gut felt incredible!  And all the while my cock was in
Debbie and felt equally incredible!  We moved together in tandem,
Bruce in effect fucking Debbie with my prick!  Faster and faster,
our lunging and plunging and ramming growing wilder and more
violent, until all three of us suddenly shrieked at once!  We all
three came together!   Debbie shuddered and spasmed.  I pumped and
squirted my accumulated semen into her pussy as not for many weeks! 
And Bruce poured the contents of those huge balls into my gut!

We lay there speechless for the longest time, then Bruce slowly,
carefully, withdrew from me.  A trickle of his cum dribbled from my
gaping anus and ran down my thigh.  As his weight came off me I
pulled myself out of Debbie, and heard a squishing as juices ran
out of her and no doubt down her leg.  

"Now you're a woman," Bruce said.  "There's no doubt about it at
all, Samantha!  Both of you!  Two women leaking cum!  What could be
more authentic!"

"God, nothing could be more authentic than this moment!" Debbie
replied.  "Sweetheart, how was that for you?  Didn't you love it?"

"Yes!" I said reluctantly.  Because it was certainly true.  "Yes,
I did!"

"Good!" Debbie said.  "Then go clean yourself up and then come
back.  Use another douche to make yourself fresh.  And perfume. 
This may be a long night!"

I did as she asked.  And when I got back, there she was lying on
her back in the same position, but her arms and legs were wrapped 
around Bruce this time, in a passionate embrace.  He lay on top 
of her, their faces and mouths clamped together, his massive penis
obviously deep inside her, again working itself in and out, then 
back in.  They had eliminated the middle man and were back at it, 
oblivious to me and the world.

And what could I say?  What had I been doing with Bruce only a few
minutes earlier?  I went into the dark corner Debbie had occupied 
and sat down and watched them for a while.  I tried not to feel 
jealous -- I scarcely had any right!

They went at it for a very long time, slowly at first, even 
languorously, now and then grunting or moaning but obviously trying 
to make it last.  Debbie warmed up and seemed to take over, writhing 
and wriggling and rotating on that cock as if possessed!  As she was!
But she possessed him!  She was as much in charge as she ever had 
been with me!  She paid no attention to me -- I didn't exist.  Only 
that thing impaling her!  I saw that she was having an orgasm every 
few minutes.  She'd rise to a frenzy, scream, recover her breath, 
then with a great sigh begin building toward another.  It was strange.
She was using Bruce to service her.   Enjoying him.  That was somehow
reassuring.  After a while I began to feel sleepy.  I crawled into 
the bed in the alcove, and was out almost at once.

                                xii.

In the morning Debbie woke me by calling me back to their bed.  Our 
bed?  I crept in and was immediately presented with Bruce's cum and
pussy-juice crusted cock, then by Debbie's oozing pussy.  I drank
and licked and sucked both, eyes shut, savoring the flavor,
wallowing in it.  When I opened my eyes once to look up
into their faces, I saw they were both watching me, pleased. 
"Isn't being a girl wonderful, honey?" Debbie asked me.  "When
there are men like Bruce around to keep us both satisfied?" 

When they were both clean Bruce turned me onto my back and gently
pushed my legs high up in the air, leaned over me, and entered me
face to face.  And fucked me as slowly and deliberately as he had
fucked me and Debbie the night before.  Debbie meanwhile crept down
from above me on that huge bed, dropped one of her breasts into my
mouth, then leaned further forward and began to suckle on my own
breasts, first one, then the other.  We sixty-nined our upper
bodies, faces buried in warm softness, sucking and sipping and
kissing each other's delicate nipples.  Heaven!  And all the while,
that delicious fulfilled feeling, followed by a yearning, then 
again by fulfillment, as Bruce stroked in and out.  Again, heaven.  

And so the weekend went.  Bruce escorted both of us to the Avalon's
formal Saturday Night ball.  We were both beautiful in our long
gowns, mine the off-the-shoulder gown Debbie had bought me only 
a few weeks ago.  Other men asked us each to dance, and Bruce danced
with both of us, and fucked both of us afterward.  Repeatedly.  
And we both sucked him off repeatedly, once both of us together, 
bumping heads and noses, fighting for a lick or a mouthful, giggling 
because it was such fun!.  We played tennis the next day, Bruce 
against the two of us, and he ran us ragged in our matching tennis 
dresses.  I felt ... cute!  Cherished!  It was a strange feeling!  
But day or night, the three of us were inseparable.  And Bruce's 
cock never quit!  

Debbie had been right from the beginning, I realized.  If I hadn't
developed the sensibilities and desires of a woman before this
weekend, if I hadn't learned to love making love like a woman and
being loved like a woman, if I hadn't found out what the varieties
of sexual experiences were with many men, and gotten accustomed to
them, then sucking Bruce's cock even once as I had originally
agreed would have been for me an ugly perversion, a severe
punishment, not a rare privilege.  As I'd first thought it, a trial
to be endured.  

But Debbie never meant to punish me.  She'd instead wanted to
remake me, with Bruce my reward.  She'd wanted me to be a woman
like her!  For the joy of it!  And I loved it!  I did enjoy taking 
Bruce in at either end, and he enjoyed each of us and both of us.  
Many times, that weekend.    

We got back late Sunday night.  I couldn't really question Debbie
until the Monday morning after we both got back home -- we were
both too busy with Bruce, and then too weary!  We woke to call in 
sick to our offices and then sleep for another few hours, still 
wrapped snugly in each other.  We'd neither of us gotten much sleep 
since Friday night, and we both needed the full day to recover.  
I wanted to be rested when I showed up at work for the first time 
with my new face and figure.  I now actually was the woman Debbie'd 
told my Boss and Personnel I meant to become.  

But above all, I wanted to know finally what had been happening. 
To my life, to my marriage, to my wife.  To us.  It wasn't till
past noon that we convened in the kitchen to share the muffins I'd
tucked into the freezer a month earlier, and fresh coffee.  Debbie
leaned back against the kitchen counter while I sat opposite at our
breakfast table, looking up at her, waiting for her to say
something.  I was well made up, because she'd suggested we go
shopping so Samantha could have one last journey into the
outer world before Sam began a slow return to the world of men. 
Or, so Samantha could fill in her wardrobe for the long haul, 
and the two of us could enjoy the first joint shopping spree 
of the rest of our lives.  I'd decide which.  Meanwhile I was 
still euphoric, daydreaming about the weekend now past.  About 
that thing of Bruce's.  Who would have thought ...? 

"Bruce called while you were in the shower," she said suddenly.

"Oh?" was all I could say.

"He likes you.  He asked me for permission to take you out again,
tonight.  There's an opening at the art gallery where women will be
wearing their finest designer outfits.  It's a chance for you to
wear yours and see what the latest fashions are."  She paused.  "To
see what you'll be wearing next year."  She paused even longer. 
"Or, he can get tickets for both of you to go to the Knicks game. 
He says, whichever you prefer." 

This news was strangely satisfying.  A tumult of emotions passed
through me.  Was I pleased?  Disappointed?  Troubled?  Some of them
must have been evident on my face.

"That's right.  You're off the hook, honey.  He's very happy with
you,  You did a marvelous job, and you deserve all the credit in
the world.  And I'll keep my word.  I'll give you your long-awaited
blow job any time you like.  Now, if you like!"  

She looked away, and delivered her next words to the kitchen
window.  "But I have to tell you this.  If you decide to go to the
Knicks game with Bruce, to be one of the guys again, I'll leave
you.  I'll have to.  I can't have a man who sucks other men's cocks
for a husband."

This was astonishing!  Unfair!  Outrageous!

"What!?" I cried out.  "But this whole thing was your idea!"  I had
a sudden insight.  "You were looking for an excuse to dump me the
whole time!  You wanted Bruce for yourself!"  Then I said it. 
"Because of his dong!  Because he's bigger than I am!"

Debbie looked at me reproachfully, yet sympathetically.  She waited
for me to calm myself.  Then said, "Partly true, honey.  But only
partly.  It's true that I like real men.  Big men!  No offense, but
you can't really feel resentful, because you're responsible for it! 
You started me off!  Those porn movies of yours.  They gave me
ideas, just as you'd hoped.  But not about fucking and sucking --
that's all rather pretty obvious stuff.  The movies gave me ideas
about what it's like to get stuffed with a huge dong like the ones
all those porn studs have!  I don't know what you were watching all
those times, but I was checking out the guys' pricks, and then I
was watching the expressions on the girls' faces as those big
pricks fucked them!"

"I wouldn't have known anything at all about huge penises without
those movies you wanted me to watch.  I had a sheltered girlhood,
hardly any boy friends before we were married.  Your cock is
average, I suppose.  I do feel it moving around inside me somewhere
when you're on top of me.  Usually."  

She leaned forward, and her eyes began to shine!  "But the pricks
on those guys in those movies!  You know!  I'd feel the strangest
longing in my pussy each time I settled in with you to watch them! 
Pure lust!  Each man with a cock that goes on and on as it goes
into a girl, and keeps coming, getting deeper and deeper, and
meanwhile so thick that it stretches her to bursting until she
doesn't dare breathe, and she splays her legs and feels split wide
open, and even then it keeps coming on into her, that incredible
pole, it just doesn't quit, on and on and into you until finally
you think the head must have reached up into your throat and that's
why you're gasping and choking and shrieking.  Maybe having chain 
orgasms one after the other, altogether out of your her mind!  And 
finally you feel his balls slam against the cheeks of your ass, 
and that's all of it.  The whole thing is inside you!  You're in 
paradise!  Then it happens in reverse.  Then the whole thing all 
over again.  It can go on for hours!  You know!  We've both just 
done it this past weekend!  Quite a few times!"

I was shocked!  What did this mean?  That Debbie had identified
with those girls in the porn films?  I'd wanted that to happen, I
guess, so she'd enjoy sex with fewer inhibitions.  But not this
way!  Apparently she'd spent all those viewing sessions imagining
she was a porn queen with her legs spread wide open to big-dicked
porn kings, maybe whole teams of them!  Not to her ordinary
average husband!"

"When I said 'you' just now, I didn't mean that you yourself
imagined those long cocks entering you up to the hilt the way I
did.  I know that.  I meant me.  Though I know you understand how
I felt, now that you've felt it yourself!"  

She smiled a conspiratorial smile at me, and I responded wanly. 
She knew how I'd lost it every time Bruce exploded his spunk into
me.  She'd heard me shriek, and she could see that at that moment
my pelvis was as wild as hers when Bruce was plunging deep and
about to climax.  She could see me writhing desperately each time
to milk his cock with my asshole. 

"So my porn movies gave you the wrong ideas?"  I asked her, with a
sinking feeling.

She smiled to herself, then looked away from me.  "Yes, they
certainly did.  Wicked ideas, they seemed to me then.  They made me
incredibly curious about how men are really hung, and whether you
can tell when you're just chatting with them.  The girls in my
office told me there's really only one way to know, to learn by
doing.  But I noticed that they'd usually spread the word around
when one of them had found some man who was ... exceptional.  And
because that word was easily confirmed by anyone else, it was
usually reliable.  So that was a second way to know.  It wasted
less time than actually trying a man on for size to see how he
fits.  After a few months I learned to listen to office gossip, 
and that saved me a lot of mistakes."

It just popped out!  "Debbie, where is all this leading?  I heard
what Bruce said yesterday about you looking to other men for sex! 
I decided he was just trying to get to me, the way guys do.  But
are you telling me you've slept with other men?  Besides Bruce, I
mean?  I've seen Bruce, and I can understand how you couldn't help
yourself when you saw us together!  But have you slept with anyone
else?"

She looked annoyed, then very solemn!  "Darling, you know you should 
never ask that question.  Marriage is based on faith!  We assume our
partners are faithful, don't we, and we never ask, do we, so
there's never any need for anyone to lie or deceive!  Is there?  
Marcie has told me about some of the men she's been with, for example.
And some of the women they've told her they've been with!"  She paused.  
Her face registered nothing, nor did mine.  Her round yet again! 

"Gabe doesn't know about Marcie's wandering,  or he never seems to 
know, and he never asks, because if he did he might have to do 
something about it.  And then he might lose her altogether.  
Certainly he'd lose faith in her, and trust her less.  Men get 
so dependent!  So of course she never tells him, and whatever she 
does with other men, on his birthday she tries to make it up to him.
Balance the scales, one for her, one for him.  Maybe even the same 
person.  He's such a submissive husband at heart, Gabe is!  He loves 
doing whatever he's told."  

She paused again.  Marcie had arranged sex for her husband 
with her own lover, true.  I felt used, somehow! 

"Have I ever asked you if you're always faithful to me?" Debbie 
asked me.  "I never kiss and tell, not even about you!  Not ever! 
So to answer your question, no, I don't sleep when I'm with other
men." 

I was silent after that.  It was a painfully evasive answer.  It
sounded like taunting.  Debbie realized that immediately, and
her annoyance vanished, to be replaced, I saw, by a deep sadness. 
I saw her struggle with herself, then settle something pretty
heavy.  She gave a huge sigh.  Then she began again.

"Samantha, listen closely.  Just nod that you understand what I'm
saying, all right?  Whenever I pause.  Don't say anything!  If a
sound emerges from you, any sound at all, even in your throat, I'll
stop talking.  And that will be that.  You know nothing, sweetheart!  
Now I want you to know everything.  Because you're my best girl!"  

This must be pretty awful, I thought.  I tried to create a mental
set in my mind, Be Silent!  Also in my throat, Be Silent!  The same
throat that was still sore from how many cocks moving in and out of
it this past week?  All for her sake?  All average sized cocks,
mostly, no monster cocks like those porn studs' cocks, anyhow,
thank God.  Except for Bruce's.  I shifted in my chair when I
thought of Bruce.  My rear end still remembered him.  It was still
sore.  I really should be sitting on a cushion, I thought.

I swallowed, then I nodded.  Here we go!

"Samantha, Sam, I love you!  I really do!  My day brightens
whenever I come home and there you are.  I don't feel complete when
we're not together.  I have never been able to imagine life without
you.  You're my companion, my friend, my adviser, my support, my
partner, my love, my other self, my life!  We really and truly are
one person, one being!  I feel everything you feel.  And I have
always wanted you to feel everything I feel."  

I nodded.  I felt tears welling up in my eyes.  Not tears of
sadness but of joy, for what she was now telling me for the very
first time.  We were one!  Despite all of the petty resentments
that accumulate between people after living together for years, as
we had.  Despite all the memories.  Because of all the memories. 
All of the little inadequacies.  All of the forgiving.
"
"And I know you feel that way about me.  That for you life without
me is inconceivable.  Insupportable.  I've counted on that often
enough during the past month.  I'm counting on it even more right
now."

I nodded slowly, deeply.  She seemed encouraged.  Grateful too?

"Sam, you're my loving and beloved partner.  My husband.  But you
aren't my lover.  You haven't been for a long time.  Not really."

That was puzzling.  We'd made real love often enough.  What could
she mean?

"Spiritually we couldn't be more intimate.  Physically though,
we've never been close.  For some reason, I didn't know why for a
long time, maybe it was chemistry I thought, maybe some deep
inhibition from my girlhood, but for some reason I couldn't ever
respond to you physically.  I thought I'd warm up to you over time,
but I never did.  There was always something missing.  When we've
had sex, I've given myself to you out of a sense of duty, not by
desire.  You know that.  You've always known that.  I've felt
guilty that there was nothing passionate between us, that I was
cheating you somehow.  Of course you didn't know.  You just began
showing me porn films, hoping they'd warm me up."

I nodded.

"Well, they did."

I sat there silent, unmoving.

"But not for you."  She paused and just looked at me.  And waited.

                                 xiii.

I looked at her silently.  And I waited.  I understood her.  But to
nod might signify assent, and I didn't want to seem to be approving
what I feared was coming.

She understood that and went on slowly, clearly, carefully.  "Those
fuckfest movies explained why I couldn't get excited about you
physically.  Because physically, you weren't exciting!  Oh, all
right, I guess, but not for what I need!"

I said nothing.  I brushed my curls off my face with my fingertips,
just a quick little gesture, silly and girlish I realized.  And
pouted thoughtfully.  And waited.

"You'd show me those films almost every time we went to bed.  First
those enormous dongs on those guys, pushing those girls' thighs so
far apart they seemed to be giving birth in reverse,  That vision
was then followed by your reality, your own little weenie poking
into me.  So inconsequential I couldn't make it seem larger even in
fantasy!"

A stray thought struck me, thank God I'm now a woman like her, not
a man, or this story would be devastating me!  I can sympathize
with her!  My own wife found my manhood inadequate?  Then surely
she'd have left me, sooner or later.  If I hadn't ... changed.  If
she hadn't tricked me into changing.  If I hadn't come over!

She went on.  "Well, sweetheart, it had to happen, didn't it!  One
day a few years ago one of our account executives asked me to join
him for lunch, tete-a-tete.  I remembered that a typist had told
the rest of us that he was especially impressive.  No, that's not
right.  What she really said was -- let's see if I still remember
her exact words -- 'Girls, he's a major heavyweight where it
counts, that stud!  I don't know how he can walk with what's
hanging down there.  Or how he can lift it.  It's a good thing it
comes up by itself, and that once it's up it stays up for hours and
hours!  He used that thing on me one afternoon and I couldn't walk
for two days!'  That's what she said.  I remember her words,
because she said them with such a deeply satisfied smirk on her
face.  And because as I found out, she wasn't exaggerating."  

She looked directly at me.  She seemed to be studying my slightest
change of expression.  I made sure there was none.  I looked
directly back at her.  She smiled slightly, satisfied that I was
not going to go crazy over this confession.

"Well, we had lunch, that account executive and me, and then
neither of us returned to work that afternoon.  I almost didn't
return here that evening, the sex was so great.  A revelation!  An
eye-opener.  And not only my eyes were opened!  I could scarcely
walk, he stretched me out so!  God, he was hung like a horse!  He
fucked my pussy, my tits, my ass, over and over!"  She paused,
still studying my face, then she went on.  "My mouth!  I blew him
of course!  I was crazy about that love-stick by the time we got
around to mouths!  I sucked that cock all the way down my throat! 
When he came, I didn't taste any of it, I just felt my neck
palpitate.  But when he pulled out, I got a trace of spunk on my
tongue, and it was soooo good!  It's an acquired taste, as you now
know, and I acquired it right then and there!  From then on I had
to have it.  You understand.  But not yours, because then you'd
wonder why I'd suddenly gone ape over eating jism, wouldn't you?  
And what if yours wasn't as tasty?  I didn't want to have to 
play act with you, ever!  And of course I might not have gone ape 
over you.  You're really so very small compared with what I need, 
honey!"

She waited.  After a while I swallowed.  Then I nodded.

"Understand me this way.  I really know what I'm saying about that
man being hung like a horse.  A year later I'd had so many big men
inside me I decided to try a horse.  A pony, anyhow.  It wasn't
bad.  I was stretched enough by then to take him into me.  I lay 
forward over a pile of saddles, and he really did give my ass the 
pounding of its life!  I tried big dogs too around then.  Lots of 
speed and drive and energy -- your cunt can go crazy when a great 
Dane is vibrating his thing inside you.  But then they take so long
to disengage, and there's nothing to do but just lie there with them
waiting for their knot to go down.  And there's no afterplay, and
they can't go again soon afterward the way real men can.  Some men. 
Men are much better partners if they're well-equipped.  You can
hold on to them and steer them where you want them, and set up your
own rhythms for them.  I've used dogs to lick me out, they're great 
for that.  But you're better!"  

Then out it came.  "Samantha, I maintain a whole stable of well-hung
men now, my regulars, maybe a half-dozen all over town at any one
time, really big men willing to drop everything and come whenever
I call them.  The office, here, a nearby motel, a car in a parking
lot, anywhere!  I call them pretty often.  Some weeks I never do
seem able to get enough."

I tried to swallow, but this time I couldn't!

"I guess I'm a sexual person"  She smiled sweetly.  What could I
say?  "And I bet you're wondering why I bother with you at all, a
woman with my appetites and you for a husband!"

Why didn't I feel more humiliated?  Why did she seem to be talking
about someone else?

"Because I love you!  The problem has been, how to keep you!  
Especially once you found out about my taste in other men.  Or 
other women.  As Bruce told you, I like girls too.  I make love 
to girls as often as I fuck men.  Marcie, my secretary Maria, 
other girls at the office, other girls elsewhere altogether.  
You don't know most of them.  But girls have a special feeling 
together that men don't know about and can't share.  I feel so 
much more intimate with them!  We feel very close, me and some 
of my girlfriends.  I can really feel intensely passionate about a 
girl, if she strikes me as just the right kind of girl."

I nodded slowly, reluctantly.  God, would it never end?

"While you were away on your sales trip a few weeks ago, I missed
you.  More than I've ever missed any of my studs, or any of my
girlfriends.  I wanted you the worst way!  Not your body, of
course.  You!  Just to be with you!"

I nodded.  Were tears coming into my eyes again?  What kind this
time?

"And then it struck me!  Like a thunderbolt!  A blinding
revelation!  I was dumbfounded!  I couldn't get any work done all
that day, just turning it over and over and thinking through the
implications!  Absolutely marvelous!  You know what my idea was?"

I shook my head.  I hoped that didn't violate my code of silence.

"That you would make just the right kind of girl!"

I was utterly addled, and just sat there!  She saw that I had drawn
a blank.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, lover!  Let me say it again.  I can get
intensely passionate when a girl strikes me as the right kind of girl!"  

I began to understand now where she was going.  Tendrils of curly
hair on the back of my neck began to stand on end, or so it seemed. 
My crimson mouth opened in astonishment, and my darkened, fringed
eyes opened even wider.

"You're the right kind now, darling!  As my partner in life you're 
without peer or parallel, you're my dearest love!  My only love!  
And now that you're a girl?  Really and truly a girl -- you proved 
that with Bruce, repeatedly!  Now that you're my sweet, feminine
darling?  You're perfect!  Oh, come kiss me right now, my lovely
sweetheart!"

I don't know why I should, I was thinking.  Given everything she'd
just confessed!  Debbie'd betrayed me!  She'd ridiculed me, at
least my physique!  She'd deceived me!  For years she'd been a
nympho with big cocks but frigid with mine!  I was jealous!  Wasn't
I?

I stood up, and straightened my dress.  She was holding her arms
wide open to me!  I didn't know how I'd respond, and it took me a
moment to balance on my dress heels.  

But then I moved forward and into those arms.  She folded them so
tenderly around me.  Still wordless, I kissed her.  Some of my
fresh lipstick remained on her upper lip, so I tried to kiss it
away.  I nibbled on her lip, then some more!  She kissed me back
passionately, and closed on me, held me tight for the rest of her
little speech -- I couldn't have gotten away if I had wanted to. 
But I didn't want to.  She whispered the rest of it to me
devotedly, adoringly, her eyes wide open and smiling into mine, our
faces almost touching.

"As a man you do nothing for me, Sam.  Oh, I've tried.  But as you
know only too well now, there's nothing!  Before we were married I
hoped I'd feel different afterward, and afterward I hoped my
feelings would change.  But there's nothing.  There's never been
anything.  Neither attraction nor revulsion.  Indifference, I'm
afraid.  It isn't your fault.  That's how I feel about most other
men too."  

She paused.  Her arms never eased.

"All but two kinds.  One is the kind I've collected in my stable,
men hung like horses.  Studs with phenomenal endowments, huge
pricks, strong backs, and stamina!  I can really get off with one
of them over me or under me making me happy.  Even by merely
anticipating such a session with them, imagining them.  Some of
them are bigger than Bruce!  Can you imagine?"

My face was just in front of hers, and she gave me a peck on the
lips and then another, holding each kiss until I kissed her back.  I
realized that with every returned kiss I was sinking irretrievably
into approval of everything she was talking about.  Her
infidelities, her sexual appetites, her betrayals.  Her rejection
of me as a man.  But I couldn't help it!  And she knew it.  She
kept staring into my eyes to remain aware of my every reaction,
touching her lips to mine all through everything she then said,
prolonging contact until I returned her ardor kiss for kiss.  And
despite everything, we both began to grow warm.  I reached for one
of her breasts, and held it, and caressed her nipple between my
thumb and forefinger.  She sighed and melted a little.  "You'll
love yours too, I'm sure," she added. "I know you do already!" 

Then she continued, "The other kind of man that turns me on is one
I can control, ... manipulate into doing something that demeans him
in his own eyes.  Something humiliating.  Psychologically
castrating.  I love that feeling, the domination, the power.  I've
feminized several men already.  My chief accountant is now a woman!  
Pussy and all!  Men in bed with her and all!  And so much happier!"

I couldn't say anything.  I nodded.

"And now, look at you, sweetheart!  While you were away a month
ago, I realized that if I could turn you into a girl with a certain
feeling for men, with a feeling like mine, I could get very
passionate about you.  We could have the happiest marriage
imaginable, souls and bodies joined in a perfect union!"  

And she kissed me lovingly again, as if she had conferred on me an
enormous compliment.  She had!  And I kissed her back the same way,
now accepting her compliment!  She seemed to smile her confession
at me now.  We were girl to girl, as if we were sharing a piece of
dishy gossip about something she'd done to some other man somewhere
else, someone who needed and deserved it.  We were two bisexual
women chatting in an amusedly superior way about a presumptuous and
inadequate former guy named Sam!  

"But I knew you'd never agree on your own!  Never!  Men's egos are
so fragile, they're so afraid to seem effeminate.  So I decided to
begin with that tape about cock sucking, to see if I could talk you
into sucking someone's cock.  There's nothing more humiliating for
a man, I'm sure!  When I'm ready to dump one of my men, I'll often
seduce him into servicing one of my newer men.  For the old one
it's a kiss off, just as you'd feared when you left Vita's.  For
the new one it's a test of his obedience to me, to see if he'll let
a man blow him if tell him to.  The old lover I never see again. 
I tell him I can't think of him as a man now that I know he sucks
cock, goodbye.   And it's true, I can't, sweetheart.  When you
agreed to suck Bruce's cock, way back, that's when you became less
than a man in my eyes!  But it didn't matter because by then you
were on your way toward becoming more than a man!  To becoming a
girl!  Because that was my plan!  Because I still love you!"  

"Anyhow, my new lover gets rewarded for letting another man suck
him off, in ways he never forgets, I make sure of that.  And then
for a while he's my favorite.  

"Bruce has been making moves on me for months, and one of his
former girlfriends assured me he's the kind of man I like, so I
decided to test him.  Now he'll be my favorite for a while!  He 
came through this past weekend very satisfactorily.  He allowed
the man I'm dumping to suck his cock!  And he was willing to give 
my new girlfriend her first loving fuck."  She looked pleased with
herself.  Then she went on.

"Do you understand now why I felt so blissful, so delighted, so
passionate the morning you agreed to become my darling cock sucker? 
Because it meant we could stay together!  Because it meant you were
on your way, you'd soon become my kind of girl!  I had to make love
to you then!  I wanted to!  I had to reward you for agreeing to do
it.  But I also had to assure you and your fragile ego that it
wouldn't matter, that you'd still be a man in my eyes despite your
honoring my little request.  Not true at all, but forgivable.  I
was overjoyed!  Goodbye to my boring husband Sam, whom I could
never again respect as a man.  A man who services other men's
penises?  And an impassioned welcome to my gorgeous, beautiful,
lovely, glorious girlfriend, my sweet Samantha!"  

I realized I actually looked grateful to her when I heard her say
that!  There were tears in my eyes!  I resented the deception, but
my feelings were altogether at odds with my thoughts!

She knew my thoughts and my feelings!  "I didn't want to deceive you 
about my sex life any longer.  I wanted you to be my lover, my
devoted, soft, beautiful, adoring and adored girlfriend and lover! 
My most intimate and beloved lover!  You could never be that as a man!  
But that's what you are now!  My passionate Samantha, free to love me 
and be loved by me but also free to satisfy men or be satisfied by 
them in any way she takes it into her pretty little head.  My men or 
her own!  Other women too!  My complete love!"

With that Debbie stared deep into my eyes as if confirming to
herself that I was indeed now what she had hoped.  Satisfied, she
closed her own eyes in rapt concentration. She wriggled her chest
against mine, and the movement disengaged my hand from her breast. 

"Time enough for that later, my love," she whispered.  "Soon.  Soon
your little thing will stop rising altogether, and your nipples
will complete their growth, and you'll find they more than
substitute for your penis as erectile erogenous centers.  Two for
one!  Another few weeks of milkshakes and they'll reach full
plumpness.  Then we can caress each other and suckle each other to
our heart's content.  And men can too if you wish!  They'll want to!
Soon!"

Her hand reached to stroke my hip, then to caress it, then to raise
the hem of my dress until it found the elastic at the top of my
panties.  It squirreled its way underneath and took complete
possession of my prick, her hand wrapped tightly around it as it
plumped up.  A little.  Her other hand, I realized, had also
reached under my dress and also had hold of my panties, and was now
pulling them down.  I returned one more lingering kiss,
passionately.  I was completely hers! 

And she whispered to me in an intense hiss, "Already this thing
doesn't really harden any more!  Soon  you won't care.  Soon you'll
want Sandra to give you something nicer down there for us to play
with.  For your men and your women to play with.  But now, while it 
still matters to you, while you're still a little bit responsive, 
I want to keep my promise.  Whenever you want it, while you still 
want it, Samantha, just ask me!" 

Debbie sank down in front of me, pulling my panties down as she
went.  When she was on her knees and her beautiful head was just at
the level of my crotch, she inclined the whole of my slack penis 
into her mouth and pulled on it with her lips.  That was what I 
had once wanted.  Her tongue licked it.  It felt warm and wet, 
wonderful!  That was all I had once wanted.  But now?  Slowly, 
deliberately, with artful dexterity, her eyes calmly gazing into mine,
Debbie gave me the first and last blow job of the rest of my life.

End

(c) 2000 by Vickie Tern.  May be copied to free archives and
accessed from them.  But do let me know, VickieTern@AOL.COM