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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {VickieTern} New TG: Dolls 3/9 F/m M/M F/f femdom
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{VickieTern} New TG: Dolls 3/9 F/m M/M F/f femdom
I'll appreciate knowing what you think of this:VickieTern@AOL.COM
Other Vickie Tern stories are archived in http://www.fictionmania.com and
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Vickie_Tern
I'll appreciate knowing what you think of any of these too, if you can still
write after reading them.
If you shouldn't be reading this, don't.
Bob inspected himself in the mirror. What he saw was
reassuring, not a man pretending to be a woman but a thin, rather
pretty girl, not smashingly gorgeous but appealingly vulnerable,
moving with awkward grace as if slightly ashamed of herself. I
suppose I am, he thought to himself. This feels like a girl's first
date. I guess it is. But it isn't *my* first date. He decided to
act more confident. "I like," he replied.
"I just knew you would. I knew it from the moment I saw you
sipping wine by yourself in that bar. I thought, if he only knew
how, he could be a stunning girl, a real charmer, with that long
hair and thin figure, and those delicate features. That's why I
chose you. Did you know you have a very kissable mouth? No, not
now, you'll ruin both of our faces."
She'd seen him like this when they first met? She'd planned
this moment then? What else had she planned?
"Here dear," Diana handed him a light topcoat. "Just throw
this over your shoulders. And carry this purse. Set it down
wherever you see me set mine, but otherwise keep it under your arm.
There's not much in it now. Some makeup, and another tampon --
I'll want you to change yours in the restaurant, to get used to
changing it in ladies' rooms. No money or credit cards yet. That
comes later, perhaps. We'll see."
"Oh yes," she said, handing him a teeny pill. "Just a little
more for now. You'll enjoy yourself more when you're less worried
about things." Bob swallowed it
'Now,' she said, and 'get used to' things. More
mysterious references to plans Diana had never discussed with him.
But no matter. As the pill bit in he didn't care. They went out
the door.
**************
It turned out to be much easier than Bob thought. The worst
never happened, that he'd be seen to be a man in drag, a mincing,
shameful, self-humiliating pervert. His manhood never came into
question -- it wasn't even implied. As Diana reassured him, he
looked like a nice young lady, and that was what people saw, so
that is what he pretended to be, very carefully, and there was
nothing further to think about it. Except that people treated him
so much nicer! They smiled at him, and Diana had to caution him to
smile back a little more modestly.
She also had to caution him to take smaller steps, and to keep
his elbows tucked in, and to take smaller bites, and to giggle with
her now and then, and to fix his lipstick after dinner, using his
compact as she used hers. Bob could begin to believe they were
what they seemed to be, two women having a sociable dinner
together. Except for a few unfamiliar sensations -- the feel of
nylons rubbing his legs as he walked, the sound of clicking heels
on the sidewalk -- it felt almost like an ordinary date. When they
visited the ladies' room while waiting for the bill, Diana gestured
toward a stall, and Bob entered it, then sat down to pee. He
reached behind him, pulled on the string in his rear, removed his
compacted tampon, then took the fresh one out of his purse and
pushed it into himself with his finger. It was very simple.
As they left the restaurant Diana told him that he was acting
and looking so lovely he'd be wasted sitting in a darkened movie
theater, and besides, she wanted to hold him in her arms, to dance
with him. Her tone of voice was peculiarly insistent, and she
looked intently at him as she spoke. So Bob merely nodded -- he
was her date tonight, she made the plans. He wondered how they'd
manage it without attracting attention, but Diana only laughed and
told him not to worry.
They drove to a place called Sappho's, a luxurious night club
with a first-rate all-girl group beating out the melodies so loud
you could feel it vibrate in your bones, and with two self-absorbed
young women on pedestals shaking their bodies to the beat of the
music. They drank and danced, and danced and drank, and several
times Diana put her elbows on his shoulders while they swayed
across the floor, and threaded her fingers into his hair behind his
head, and pulled his face toward her and kissed him. Each time his
heart melted a little more, so wonderfully full of love for her.
There were other women dancing together too, and being affectionate
with each other, so Bob felt increasingly easy, and Diana even
allowed him to lead a few times.
Once during the evening a rather large, stocky woman in a
purple blouse, her hair in a bun and her face shiny, cheerfully
leaned over their table and asked Bob to dance. "I don't think so,
dear," Diana answered for him, in a voice hard and sharp enough to
shatter ice. The cheer vanished from her face, then the face
itself. "You're mine," she explained gently when the woman had
gone, and Bob had to admit to himself that he was indeed, and that
he loved being hers. A little later, when he was in the Ladies' by
himself straightening his hair and makeup, another girl tried to
hit on him. Bob had to smile at his peculiar attractiveness while
wearing a dress, when he'd never had much luck wearing pants.
But all he said was "I'm taken, honey," in the gentle,
mid-range voice he and Diana had practiced together on their way to
the restaurant, and that left him free to return to Diana
unencumbered. By the time they left Bob had completely forgotten
he was in a dress and stockings and a girdle, his chest bound up in
a bra, and wearing slip-on shoes that clacked when he walked. It
all felt perfectly natural, even ordinary.
Maybe Bob had drunk a bit too much, but when they got back to
his place Diana had to take his key from his purse and open the
door for the two of them, smiling over at him so he wouldn't feel
uneasy about it. He lurched toward the sofa, but she steered him
into his bedroom. He stood there in the gloom. She didn't seem
concerned to find the light switch. Instead she stood close in
front of him and raised her hands high over her head. He did the
same. With a quick tuck of her wrists she undid his belt buckle
and skirt, which fell to his feet, then pulled his blouse over his
head, and set it across a nearby chair inside out. He remembered
his hairdo. Now it didn't matter. He stood in his slip and
stockings and flats. She looked at him, her eyes and lips dark in
the reflected moonlight in the room. An eye gleamed.
"Shall we, lover?"
Yes. Oh, yes.
"Sit on the bed and take off your shoes and those pantyhose."
Yes.
"Now lie back, sweetheart," she said.
He lay back. She was his shadow. He was her sweetheart. He
was on his back. She knelt on the bed beside him, shrugged her
arms up, and her slip flew over her head. Then she reached behind
her and her bra fell away. Bob reached for one of her breasts. It
jiggled nearly out of his reach, so soft, so elusive!
He struggled onto an elbow to remove his own slip.
"No," she said. "Let me do everything."
No, he thought. Yes.
"Leave your bra and slip on now." She kissed him on the lips.
So softly. No semen. Her lips.
My bra. My slip. Like my hand. My skin. A part of me I
possess. A part of me that's me. Naturally. I wear my bra and
slip. So softly.
"Wear them all day tomorrow," she said. "Every day from now
on. Promise?" Her hands moved across his nipples, and he felt her
slide the material of his slip against the tips of his bra cups,
firming and smoothing it against the sides of his breasts. Her
thumbs kept feeling him up.
"All day."
"For me. You'll think about me."
"Yes."
"Under your dress. Tomorrow. All day."
His dress tomorrow? She mounted him, knees on either side of
his hips, reared herself up, and began to undulate his stiffened
prick into her, her hand floating over his bra, caressing his
breasts. He was entering her! She was surrounding him!
"It will feel wonderful."
"Yes" Bob said, his eyes closed, all of his attention
centered on his groin, the place where their two groins joined, and
the enrichment of feeling brought on by her hands on his nipples.
Yes, naturally.
"Always. From now on. All the time, even when we make love."
"Yes"
"Except to sleep. Then wear a nightie." He had slid all the
way into her now, and he could feel her pussy muscles spasm on the
base of his prick as if to milk him.
"Yes"
She began to rotate her pelvis on him. "You're my adorable,
precious girl," she said.
"Yes," he said, eyes shut, clenching his buttocks up into her
as she responded by pressing herself down on him.
Now she seemed to be squirreling and squeezing him deeper and
deeper, all the way into her, and he was rising into a delicious
place he had never before entered. He knew he couldn't hold off
much longer.
"That's what you are! Aren't you?"
"Yes," he said, rising to meet her.
"What is it you are? For me? From now on?"
"G-g-girl," he called out to her from the sweet, sweet
darkness spreading now rapidly through him.
"What kind of girl?"
"Adorable...!" he said, her sweetness spreading through his
body into his breasts, and arms. He was helpless. "Precious."
"My girl. Even when I'm not here. All the time. From now
on."
"Yours! Yes!"
"My darling, darling girl. You'll be so pretty. You're my
pretty girl now, aren't you?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"You are!"
He could think of nothing more glorious than to be what she
said he was.
"I am!"
"You want to be my girl."
"Yes!"
"You want me to help you become a real girl!"
"Yes!"
"You'll do anything I say?" And Diana lifted herself up
nearly off his penis, his cock head barely held by her soft pussy
lips, and suspended herself there. Bob went out of his mind.
"Yes! Yes! Anything! Yes!"
He tried to lift himself back into her. All of his yearning
concentrated on slipping back in, becoming her, becoming whatever
she wanted, being hers, adorable, precious, oh how infinitely
sweet, sweet, the quintessence of her, a girl.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"Again."
"Oh, yes, Diana, yes!"
And with that she sank back down onto him and clamped herself
to his crotch, and he lifted himself up into her and came, and
came, and came, each spurt an affirmation plunged deep into her
while she smiled and squeezed him with her pussy, milking his prick
until finally he had no more sperm to give her. He was near
fainting with the pleasure of it. He never noticed that she didn't
come at all. She just smiled, as if deeply satisfied in a
different way..
When he found his breath again she was lying with her head on
his chest, her hair falling over him in all directions, his
softened penis still inside her.
"Yes," she said. "My sweet, adorable, precious girl. Mine.
>From now on."
"Yes," he replied in his rich afterglow. This was quite a
game. He wondered how seriously she was playing it.
"Yes," she confirmed, and she began to suckle on him. His
body began again to squeeze toward feelings of ecstasy. "My
precious girl," she said.
And they resumed. As his penis hardened, his body seemed to
melt into hers. It didn't seem to matter to her that his body was
being pleasured by hers, not hers with his, that all she seemed to
want for herself was his consent to anything she wanted to do now
or hereafter, the one thing she asked for repeatedly, in many
forms. As if declaring his love for her over and over, he
surrendered his manhood to her repeatedly, blissfully, each time
she asked. He grew hard again, and squirted his girl-juices into
her again. He was her precious girl. From now on. Yes.
****************
When they woke up the following morning they made love yet
again. She was silky softness everywhere, under his arms, against
him, surrounding him, and her thighs were warm and moist and
sticky, and her pussy was still slick with their juices from the
previous night. He hardened yet again as he felt her pressing
against him, and then this time he mounted her and plunged into
her, and came into her yet again.
When they finished, she seemed pleased. Then she commented
that there was one more thing she wanted him to do for her, and
then they could see about breakfast,
"What's that?" he asked, stretching like an enormous cat. He
had never felt better! He rolled off and looked at her. She was
stark naked. She wore her skin the way other women wore leotards,
as if her body was its own sufficient clothing. He came suddenly
aware that he hadn't himself undressed the night before. His slip
was now around his waist, and his bra had ridden up above his the
nipples. It all seemed a little silly by the morning's light.
But she had wanted him to wear them. For some reason the idea now
stirred his loins, as if he were about to begin yet another
erection. But no, he had now altogether spent himself into her.
He stayed soft.
"This!" She suddenly reversed her body and lay down on top of
him, her legs spread wide as she slid her crotch up his chest
toward his mouth until her lower lips kissed his lips. Then she
wriggled her hips slightly, seating her pussy firmly onto his face,
his nose pressed into her anus. For a moment he couldn't breath.
Then she unlimbered her legs slightly, and he opened his mouth to
take in a great gasp of air. She clamped his mouth firmly against
her crotch.
"Kiss me, Bobbi dear, my lovely, dearest girl! Suck on me!
Clean me out, my dear, precious Bobbi! Lick me! Suck me! Drink
me!"
And once again Bob went into ecstasy, drinking her juices,
mostly his own cum, nibbling and sucking on her clit until she
spasmed. Every spasm squeezed more of his precious cum out of her
cunt into his mouth. There was quite a bit of it deep in her from
the previous night, kept fresh under her mound between her legs,
inside her beautiful rosy-lipped pussy. He licked her deep inside,
and along her slit up to her curls of hair, and down the outside of
her labia, and then inside her thighs. When she allowed he licked
the crust from her belly and hips. This time, as she pressed her
pussy into his face, then away for him to lick her more delicately,
then again pressed down, this time he was sure she came. She never
made a sound, but her whole body clenched and then relaxed into
luxurious ease while he licked her again and again, kissing gently
those folds he knew now were sparkling clean, finally taking her
little clit into his pursed lips and gently, sweetly kissing it.
Then again.
"Time for a shower," Diana said suddenly. "You first, sweet
Bobbi girl. I'll lay out your clothes for the day."
"We won't shower together?" Bob asked her, a little
disappointed. He wanted to run his hands over her skin, and
between her legs, while she was all slick, wet and glistening.
"Another time, my dear girl. You first."
While Bob showered he kept grinning to himself. He felt so
good! Finally, he had gotten into her, and obviously she loved it.
But he wondered how far she meant to carry this "dear girl" thing.
He had promised, he remembered vaguely, to wear a bra and slip
today for her. So he would. And under a dress. Well, all right,
a dress. But this weekend only. All right. But then while they
were making love last night, in that so delicious moment when he
had yielded all of his soul and will to her, he had promised her
"from now on." He was her girl. What did that mean, from now on?
It meant all the time. Not just this weekend. Stretched out taut
in the ecstasy of coming, he had promised her. He had wanted to
promise her. God, how he had wanted it! Now he wasn't sure how to
deal with "from now on."
Maybe he could ignore it. He was a man. After last night and
this morning she could have no doubt of that! He decided to ask
her, casually, how she planned to have him be her girl and yet
remain her man. A man is a man, after all. He knew she couldn't
really be serious, calling him a girl. So he hadn't really
promised her anything. There was no real problem here.
But when he got back to his bedroom, still naked, his body
squeaky clean and hairless as a baby's, he was shocked!
Astonished! There in the room stood a large, stocky woman, filling
most of the space in front of Diana, who sat at ease on the edge of
the bed looking up into the woman's face and listening, then
talking, throwing her hands here and there expressively while she
talked. The woman was wearing a pale purple starched uniform of
some kind, like the kind beauty parlor operators wear, or nurses.
Bob noticed that she was listening to Diana attentively and
respectfully, every now and then nodding. Diana noticed Bob out of
the corner of her eye, completed whatever she was saying, turned to
Bob, and smiled at him.
"Bobbi my sweetheart, you adorable darling, come here. I want
you to meet Erika. Erika looks after different things for me, now
and then, and I've asked her to help me look after you now, to help
me prepare you. There's so much to do! Oh, you are going to love
being a girl, I just know it! Right now I thought you should just
see each other -- you can take the time to get acquainted later on.
That's about it for now, Erika. You might see what can be done
about breakfast before you go."
Bob was bewildered, flabbergasted! He was standing in his own
bedroom stark naked, and here was a strange woman looking him over
with a mildly attentive professional eye. He tried to cover
himself. His hands fluttered over his loins and, unaccountably,
his chest before he realized he had better just stand still on his
dignity. He finally found his voice and tried to declare his
indignation, but before a sound could come out Erika broke in and
said, "Miss Bobbi, how nice to meet you. I see you've had your
shower. Did you remember to take your enema and then your douche?"
Somehow, this seemed insulting! Bob lookled at Diana, his
lover, expecting her to intervene in such a delicately personal
matter, but Diana also seemed to be waiting for his reply.
"Erika," Bob replied, as if completing her introduction to him by
acknowledging her name, trying to grasp the initiative. "Pleased
to meet you." The two women waited patiently for this obvious
untruth to dissipate, and Bob realized he had only one more thing
to say. A moment passed in total silence. "No," he said, "I
forgot." He felt like a child asked if he had scrubbed his teeth.
"Well, shouldn't you now?" Diana asked. "Would you like Erika
to help you? Erika, would you go with Bobbi and help her clean
herself out? I'll bet with all the excitement this morning she's
even forgotten that she's still having her period, and needs to
change her tampon."
Bob suddenly realized this was true. He was still having his
period, and needed to change his tampon. No he wasn't, he tried to
tell himself. Men don't have periods. Even so, he felt like a
twelve year old . . . girl (he swallowed hard) who has been
reminded she needs lessons in personal hygiene!
"Yes Miss Diana" Erika said. "And while we're about it shall
we begin preparing Bobbi's vagina for its new responsibilities?"
"Well, no, not yet," Diana replied. "Just help her clean
herself out, then see to breakfast. I'll get dressed meanwhile.
After this weekend we'll want to move Bobbi into that spare
apartment in the your building, and then you'll be able to look
after her needs much more easily. Now that she's my special girl,
and she wants to be mine, we'll want to take especially good care
of her. She's very precious to me." Diana looked directly into
Bob's eyes, and said with no noticeable irony, "Aren't you, my
adorable girl? Aren't you? Yes. Yes, you know you want to be
mine. Don't you? Say it again. I love to hear you say it."
Bob couldn't quite grasp what was happening, and said nothing
for a moment. Erika stood there in her starched uniform and looked
at him as if preparing to move forward. "Miss Bobbi," she said.
"Shouldn't you answer?"
"Yes," Bob said, "I'm yours. I know it. I want to be yours,
I know that too!"
And for some reason the naked man felt utterly helpless.
Unaccountably, unexpectedly, he fell to his knees in the doorway,
and realized he had started to cry. It was as if somehow his old
life was over. Somehow he was saying a sorrowful goodbye to his
old self. For her! Diana came forward and knelt down, and cradled
his head in her hands, and comforted him.
"There, there, Bobbi" she said. "You'll love it. It'll be
beautiful. I promise you, this will be the loveliest thing that
will ever happen to you. But just hug me now, and cry as long as
end 3/9
(c) 1998 by Vickie Tern May be archived if made freely available.
Not if not.
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM
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