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Subject: New TG from Waldo - Jane - Chapter 9a of 9b
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Jane	by Waldo

Chapter 9a of 9b	

Tarzan is a copyrighted character and this story is not
intended to infringe on those rights.  While my Tarzan
has a similar storyline, its purpose is to entertain
without claiming credit for the orignal Tarzan. All rights 
reserved by Author.  Not to be read by minors or 
sold without explicit written permission of the author




Chapter 9 - The letter

Tarzan honored Lady Jane's request by treating Mary Beth as if 
she was his wife as they traveled, not a servant. People looked at 
him funny because here was a handsome, very virile young man 
with a very large woman that was larger than most big men. But he 
did it because Mary Beth was his childhood best friend, even 
though she didn't know his real identity. By the time that they got 
to the little sea town, she was very happy because she was carrying 
his child. She was happy because for the first time in her life, a 
man was treating her with respect and like a woman; not like an 
overgrown cow. 

The pregnancy, combined with the heat, combined with the rough 
in-land trek caused the two month journey to take over three 
months. But Tarzan stayed with her, taking his time, letting her 
travel only as far as she could handle each day.

As expected, the whole village was excited to see them and to 
welcome their new sister - Mary Beth - to their village. Mary Beth's 
huge size impressed everyone as they considered the potential 
future generations of children from her offspring. Mary Beth didn't 
go completely native as Jane originally did, but did go somewhat 
native by offering to willingly participating in their mating customs.

One week after her arrival in the village, Mary Beth opened her 
small suitcase and removed a envelope which she handed to 
Tarzan, simply saying "She asked to wait until now to give it to 
you."

Tarzan sat down on a rock and opened the envelope that still bore 
light traces of her perfume. He read:

My Dear Tarzan,

I've just returned from the barn and am trying to 
compose myself so that I can logically write the things 
that I want to tell you but can't tell you in person. It 
hurts to look at you and to pretend that you're only a 
guest.

By now, you and my best friend are away from here 
and back in the jungle at the place where my dear 
husband has done everything to help me forget. Before 
you read any further, I know who I really am and who 
you really are - I don't remember anything about the 
body exchange but I remember my life as a young man 
- as the savage that grew up in the jungle and was 
known as Tarzan. I knew about the chalice and as I 
began to remember things from my former life, I 
guessed what occurred in the mine and why it 
occurred. When you showed up here, I knew that it 
was time to write this letter, which I've begged Mary 
Beth to not give you until a week after your arrival 
back in the jungle.

Where shall I start? How about the few things that I 
remembered when I first stared at my new reflection in 
the water? How about if I start with my earliest 
memories of this female body?

I vaguely remember going over the falls and then 
fighting for my life in the churning water. Something 
happened - maybe I hit my head - that snapped me 
out of my confusion but my memory was still lost. I 
remember seeing an almost drowned old man floating 
by me and I grabbed him and pulled him to shore, not 
knowing who he was or my relationship with him. He 
was hurt but insisted that we quickly get away from 
the waterfall so I grabbed a large chunk of our busted-
up raft and pushed us out to where the swift current 
took us downstream. Although he was hurt and 
couldn't take care of himself, let along me, he kept 
trying to take care of me. And he seemed to know me 
because he kept calling me Jane. That name meant 
nothing to me because I didn't remember anything 
about my previous life or who I was. But it was 
apparent that he knew me and that he had some 
strong reason that we should get out of that area as 
fast as we could. So I took care of him as we floated 
downstream. 

I knew that I was a woman because I had tits hanging 
from my chest and could see my reflection in the 
water. It felt funny to have tits but there were other 
things that also felt different. I felt so small and fragile 
as if I had shrunk. I also felt weak because I tried to 
pick the old man up and discovered that I wasn't as 
strong as I thought that I should be. And it didn't feel 
right when I squatted to pee. All those differences, but 
the tits were the most noticeable because of the way 
that they jiggled and constantly reminded me that I 
was a woman. 

I got the raft a couple of miles downstream and found 
a place where I could examine his wounds. It was 
nothing serious, just a dislocated shoulder and several 
cuts. Now that we had a few moments to relax, I asked 
him who was I?

He told me that I was a English Lady that had joined 
his expedition and that both of us had been captured 
by the savages. He told me that I had been hurt by 
them and he rescued us but the only way out, was 
over the falls. He told me that they would be looking 
for us and that we had to get further away as we hid 
from them.

Everything that he told me sounded logical so I 
believed him. As I guided the raft further downstream, 
I asked him more details about my life. Over several 
days and nights, I asked him all the questions that I 
could think of and he kept telling me about my life 
back in England. None of what he said, sounded 
familiar, but it sounded so good that I wanted to 
believe him. He told me about my big estate, about my 
rich father, about my big bedroom and my pampered 
existence. 

I had doubts about some of the stuff that he was 
telling me because it didn't sound familiar. I found it 
difficult to believe that I was a rich English woman 
because after all, I was dressed in only a native leather 
halter and riding a raft in the middle of Africa. But I 
wanted to believe him because it all sounded so 
wonderful - like a fairy tale.

I wanted to sleep in a big bed with satin sheets hating 
my nightly bed made of freshly gathered grass. I 
wanted to have someone wait on me, rushing to honor 
my every request. I wanted to have a big room of my 
own where I could sleep safely, not having to worry 
about snakes or other dangerous animals. I wanted to 
be this person that he kept telling me that I was. Over 
several days of listening to him, I knew that if I wasn't 
the person that he was describing, that I would 
somehow become that person. So I answered to the 
name that he called me --Jane - even though I didn't 
think it was my name.

After a week of drifting down-river at night and resting 
in a small cove during daytime, we became very close 
friends and I began to feel different as I looked and 
talked to him. I forgot about the large age difference 
between us and I began to react to him as if we were 
Adam and Eve - a man and woman all alone. 

I know now that it was a simple matter of hormones 
but I began to feel attracted to this old man. I began to 
tease him, easily recognizing that he was reacting to 
my obvious lush female body the way that I wanted 
him to react. I knew that he wanted me but wouldn't 
touch me - it wasn't the proper thing for a English 
gentleman to take advantage of a temporary disposed 
Lady. But in his eyes, I could see that he wanted me - 
almost more than he wanted to escape the jungle that 
he hated so much. My teasing was slight at first - a 
simple girlish flirtation where I would expose a little 
cleavage as I faced him, or not get completely out of 
sight as I daily bathed my naked body so that he could 
see me. 

After several days of waiting for him to make a move, I 
did it. I let him have me because I wanted to see what 
it was like. I know now that I wanted him mainly 
because of my curiosity to see what it was like to make 
love; but at that time, I had a strong sexual attraction 
toward him.

You see, I had explored my body and knew what it 
looked like but couldn't remember what it felt like to 
have sex. The very first night after we escaped from the 
waterfall, while he slept, I undressed and examined 
myself seeking some clue to my identity, seeking 
something that looked familiar. I knew that I had a 
nice set of boobs, a tight little vagina and from the way 
that I could explore so deeply with my finger within my 
vagina, that I wasn't a virgin. But as I played with 
myself, I had these weird flashes of memories of a 
forgotten sex life that didn't go with my female body. 
For the first week, I frequently slipped away while he 
slept and played with myself so that I became quite an 
experienced masturbater, but at the moment of 
orgasm, I always imaged a big cock sticking out of my 
body, spurting away gobs of cum. I wanted to make 
love to Walt to see if I still had that same dream when I 
was with the real thing.

While Walt had some age on him, I discovered that he 
could still get it up and keep it up long enough to 
provide me some relief from the physical and mental 
sexual desires that I was experiencing at that time. He 
couldn't give it to me as long or as frequently as I 
really desired it, but he was able to make me feel like a 
woman. Also his cock was smaller than I wanted, but 
he knew how to use what he had to really please me. I 
still remember lying on that bed of jungle grass the 
first time that we made love, my legs spread wide 
open, my ass coated with our mixed body fluids, our 
flushed bodies coated with sweat and wondering why 
we hadn't done this days sooner. Over the next several 
days, we tried to make up for lost time, like two 
teenagers on a desert island. 

Within a couple of days of sharing my bed with Walt, 
my unusual fantasy of having a cock faded away as 
my lover proceeded to make a real woman out of me. I 
did it all, letting him take in every position and even 
showing him some new ones that I didn't remember 
how I learned them. I discovered that I loved sex and 
couldn't get enough sex. It was difficult for Walt to 
keep up with my demands because I was in my prime 
and he was a middle-aged man who'd recently been 
hurt, so I spent a lot of our cuddle time working him 
into an erection, using whatever it took, which was 
usually my mouth.

The first time that I let my lips touch his cock, I 
unexplainably shuddered as if I was breaking a long-
time taboo, then I did it, enjoying the final result - a 
fully functional erection. As for Walt, he became like a 
spring chicken - banty rooster that is. He couldn't get 
enough sex either although he could only get it up 
once or twice a day. After the separate beds barrier 
between us had been removed, he was quite the horny 
little man. I discovered that I liked sucking his cock 
because he reciprocated by eating my pussy. I 
discovered that I liked having a cock shoved into me, 
whether it was my mouth, my ass or my pussy, I 
didn't care. I just wanted to be fucked and accepted it 
where ever I could get it and as often as I could get it.

I was very horny at first and wanted it at first at least 
ten or twelve times a day which was about nine or 
eleven times more than Walt could oblige me. So he 
made me what we called a happy stick. If he was too 
tired or couldn't get it up after a little foreplay, he'd 
used the happy stick and his tongue to bring me to a 
couple of orgasms. 

When we weren't fucking, we were drifting downriver, 
still trying to get as far away as we could. Like a good 
wife, I cooked and took care of us. Somehow, I knew 
how to hunt, fish and how to dodge the natives that 
were all around us. It was my survival skills that got 
us down the river without dying of hunger or being 
discovered by nearby villages. 

After one midnight raid on a nearby village for salt, 
Walt returned with a native cotton dress and 
requested me to wear it instead of my leather clothes. 
It felt just as funny to put on the dress as it did to 
make love the first time. I looked at my reflection in 
the water and liked what I saw - a beautiful young 
woman wearing a plain dress and I imagined what I 
would look like in the proper clothes. Although I kept 
my old clothes for several more days, I only wore the 
dress because I like the way that it felt on me and the 
way that I looked. I liked the flowing skirt and the feel 
of it swishing about my legs. Wearing the dress and 
looking at my image in the water made me feel 
something that I thought was homesickness. The 
simple native dress refreshed my desire to know about 
the life that I had forgotten. I constantly asked him 
about my former life and built all these daydreams 
about my former life.

Every once in awhile, I'd get a flashback and 
something wouldn't seem right. Like when I was 
sucking Walt's cock or feeling him pound his balls 
against my ass as he fucked me or having him suck on 
my boobies as he called them. There were other things, 
such as looking at my reflection in the water and not 
seeing anything that I really recognized. Neither my 
body nor my face looked familiar for a long time. Or I'd 
be hunting and feel this pent-up desire to sneak upon 
my prey like a big cat. I'd have flashbacks of hunting 
wild animals but it wouldn't be me - the female me, 
that is. It would be a naked wild man - a savage that 
was doing the hunting.

I tried to forget the flashbacks because nothing made 
any sense. I decided that my injury had caused those 
flashbacks and ignored them as I ignored my dreams 
of anything but life in England.

When we got to the coast, I knew that something was 
wrong, but wasn't sure what. I hadn't had a period 
since I regained my memory. As for Walt, I didn't tell 
him and continued to let him do what he enjoyed the 
best - taking care of me. 

We'd salvaged some gold so he immediately bought 
new clothes for me and had someone fix my hair for 
me. The first time that I saw my fixed-up reflection in a 
mirror, I knew that was what I wanted to look like. I 
eagerly discarded my native dress and bought some 
slips, some panties, some petticoats, some proper 
fitting shoes with two inch high heels and some pretty 
dresses. The woman that fixed my hair, trimmed it and 
shaped it into what she thought was the current style 
and showed me how to apply makeup. The first time 
that I looked at the reflected image of the very properly 
dressed young woman, I had the weirdest sensation - I 
wanted to fuck myself. I felt the strongest sexual desire 
to look at myself and to dress myself in appropriate 
finery. When I got back to the hotel room with Walt 
after that day's shopping, I gave him the best fuck of 
his life and he surprised me by getting it hard twice. I 
was wearing garters to hold my stockings up, still had 
my high heel shoes laced to my feet, and my slip. He 
declared that it was the best that he ever had and I bit 
my lip as I knew that it was the best for me also.

I got him up early the next morning and had him take 
me back to the shops where I tried on a new dress and 
experimented with my appearance. That evening, he 
took a very stylist dressed young woman out to dinner 
and dancing at the best establishment in town - the 
military officer's club. Every one of the young officers 
was fawning over me, trying to impress me, trying to 
get into my panties. I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the 
attention, the teasing and the way that they treated 
me. I enjoyed being on the dance floor and knowing 
that I could have any man that I wanted. 

When I left the club that night with Walt, I knew that I 
left several young men with broken hearts. The next 
day, one of the young men found some excuse to visit 
me at my hotel while Walt was down at the docks. I 
met him in the lobby and we sipped our tea and 
discussed the weather. Then without knowing why I 
did it except that I was feeling very horny, I asked him 
if he would like to rent a room for afternoon. In his 
room, I let him kiss me.

Walt's not a big man but he's the perfect size for my 
small body. When we kiss or curl up together, we're 
the ideal size match-up. But this young man was tall, 
broad-shouldered and had a well-built body. I had to 
stand on my tiptoes, lean my head far back and he 
still had to stoop to kiss me. As we kissed, I pressed 
my body against his body and could feel his large 
erection pressing against my belly button. I didn't 
object as his hands cupped my ass or my boobs. I kept 
kissing him as he lifted me up so that our faces were 
level as he carried me to the bed. I knew it was wrong 
but I wanted him.

He laid me on the bed and stood over me as he 
unbuttoned his shirt. My strong desire to be fucked by 
him immediately faded - simply because he had a 
hairy chest. I stared at his mat of chest hair and flat 
muscular chest and had an anxiety attack. Something 
about his manly chest was wrong and I couldn't go 
any further. I jumped to my feet and managed to get to 
the door before he caught my wrist. He was calling me 
names like `whore' and `bitch' as he dragged me 
back toward the bed. I struggled against him but his 
stronger strength was too much for my weaker and 
smaller body. He threw me on the bed and lifted my 
skirt to pull down my panties declaring that he `was 
going to take me'. Somehow I sneaked in a lucky kick 
and caught him in the balls. While he doubled up in 
pain, I ran out of the door and back to my room.

In the privacy of my room, my rapidly beating 
heartbeat returned to normal and I questioned myself 
as to why I went with him and why I was so suddenly 
turned off. I decided that it was a combination of my 
body wanting to see what it was like to fuck someone 
closer to my own age and my mind wanting to be 
faithful to Walt. I didn't realize for a long time that the 
real reason that I rejected him, was because his hairy 
chest reminded me too much of my old chest.

I was happy when we boarded our ship, quickly 
discovering that it opened up a whole new world to me. 
I discovered that I could enjoy being a tease with 
young men if I saved my frustration and allowed Walt 
to satisfy me later.

I enjoyed sitting at the Captain's table, flirting with 
the young men, being with other young women my age 
and talking about the various men who were chasing 
after us in a socially acceptable chase method. I 
discovered that I enjoyed the idle and witless chatter of 
several women sitting around talking. I could lose 
myself and feel more at home at being the person who 
Walt kept telling me that I was. 

I met a young woman on the boat who I liked and we 
quickly became good friends. Like me, she was with an 
older man - it was a marriage arranged by her family. 
Because Walt and I were sharing a cabin, we 
pretended to be married. After all, we were sleeping 
with each other, so pretending to be married stopped 
some of the rumors. So as our two older men sat in the 
lounge and smoked their cigars, we two young women 
teamed up to prowl the ship as we pranced about in 
our finest clothes. We allowed young men to talk to us 
but we maintained the acceptable social distance as 
we flirted.

I enjoyed going to the bathroom with another woman 
and sneaking a quick smoke as we fixed each other's 
hair or freshened our makeup before we returned to 
our tables. I enjoyed sitting in our cabin with her, both 
of us in our slips and talking about our lovers. I made 
up some lovers because I wanted her to think I was 
more experienced than I really was. I enjoyed sipping 
wine with a woman who was in her underwear just as I 
was, smoking cigarettes in the privacy of a locked 
cabin, telling lies about our lovers, and then dressing 
ourselves up so that we could walk along the social 
deck as if we were the biggest prudes in the world.

He hired a nanny to spend a couple of hours every day 
to teach me the social graces and all of the unique 
women skills that I needed to know. I learned which 
fork to use, when to curtsy, and how to blush when a 
man told an off-color joke. I learned how to wash, 
comb, and brush my hair in different styles to match 
my wardrobe or the occasion. She taught me how to 
apply makeup and take care of my body because I 
revealed my menstruation worry to her. I still didn't 
have a period and she helped me with my calculations 
so I knew when the baby would probably be due if I 
have a bloody panty mess soon.

When we arrived in England, I couldn't wait to get to 
Parker Mansion. I had to see the big house that I'd 
built so many daydreams over. As we rode up the 
driveway, I didn't want to get out of the carriage 
because the house was more than I really expected. My 
reality was better than my daydream. And my father? 
He was so happy to see me that he wouldn't have 
cared if Walt had been a black man.

Daddy was concerned about the difference in our ages, 
but he didn't really care as long as I was happy. And I 
was so happy that I couldn't stand it. On my journeys 
here, I slept in some big beds in some nice hotel rooms 
with nice sheets, but nothing compared to my first 
night in my large and luxurious bedroom at Parker 
Manor. That night after a very strenuous and exciting 
love-making session with Walt in my new bedroom, I 
told him that I was pregnant - that he was the father 
of my unborn child.


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