From: WHITEJL@DUVM.OCS.DREXEL.EDU (SilentElf)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: TG: Tailor Made
Date: 20 Jun 1995 14:58:05 GMT
This is my latest work - I'd love feeback! (I'll cheerfully forward
mindless flames to your postmaster, so just keep that shit to yourself.)
And, as always, if you don't like this kind of stuff, then just don't
read it. Enjoy!
Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
<white@duvm.ocs.drexel.edu>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Tailor Made
by Dafydd Cyhoeddwr
copyright June, 1995
Barry blamed Sports Illustrated. The Swimsuit Issue in particular.
He was bored, and alone in the townhouse he shared with Kathy, a
platonic friend he had had since college. In fact, they had roomed
together in college, in a shared house thing. There, they had been
roommates even though neither used the room that was theirs - they both
actually stayed in the rooms of their respective lovers. Here he had his
own room that was really his, though the townhouse was really Kathy's.
She had offered him crash space when he had returned to town 5 years
after college until he found some more permanent arrangement. The
permanent arrangement had turned out to be right here, and he was still
here after 2 years. But that didn't have much to do with why he was
bored.
Barry was bored because he was broke. He had a clerk-typist/office
boy type job - not minimum wage, but not exactly yuppie-scale salary
either. He kept himself in clothes and minimal entertainment, along with
sharing rent and food with Kathy, so he wasn't miserable or anything. It
was just that his month's entertainment budget had already been spent.
And even though Kathy managed to supplement said budget with her generous
and unmonitored expense account, this particular weekend wasn't one she
was able to include him in on. So, he was stuck in an empty townhouse
with 80-some channels of cable-TV and some magazines, SI Swimsuit Issue
included.
But, after flipping through said issue for the third time, and
surfing all 80+ channels 5 times, he was just too restless to stay still
another moment. He began roaming around the townhouse, trying to come up
with something to do. Eventually, he opened the door to Kathy's room and
stepped inside. He looked around, preparing for his usual trip through
her drawers, when his attention was diverted.
Barry was a transvestite. This was one of the few secrets he had
from Kathy - he didn't see much of a reason to tell her, after all. He
was in a pretty sweet situation after all - he had free access to a
woman's wardrobe, didn't he? Kathy was of a size with him - another happy
accident. He didn't borrow things from her drawers, that would have been
too dangerous. But as he often did the laundry, it was a simple matter to
borrow a pair of panties or hose, wear them for a few days, and then
return them via the laundry. Where a person might miss something they had
seen that morning or the night before in their scanties drawer, they had
much less of a chance of remembering what they had worn during the week
and noticing that it wasn't in the clean laundry on Saturday. Kathy
certainly didn't have the kind of details-oriented personality that kind
of meticulousness required.
He did have his own collection of underthings, of course, kept in a
locked chest under his bed. He didn't have any outer clothes - his few
attempts to dress all the way had shown him that he absolutely couldn't
pass. Even with the help of one of his past girlfriends - on Halloween,
of course - he hadn't been able to disguise his masculinity. And unlike
many transvestites, for him believability was required for him to get
anything out of the experience, at least as far as dressing all the way
went. He got an enormous charge out of wearing just the underwear,
perhaps because he just liked the look and feel of them without expecting
them to make him look like anything he wasn't.
So, his trip into Kathy's bedroom wasn't a raiding foray. It was
just a chance to examine Kathy's exquisite taste (either a product of, or
a contributing factor toward, her talent at designing clothes) and the
results thereof. It was also something to do, even if it was an exercise
in denial - she had things in her drawers that she so seldom wore that
Barry had no opportunity to borrow them since they would easily be
missed. But this time, he never got to the drawers because of what he saw
on her bed.
And what he saw was a bathing suit. Neon green, with black trim
around the neck and leg-holes and hot pink random stripes radiating up
and down from these black-trimmed edges. It had that wet-look that
characterized cire (not that he necessarily knew what that was, but he
had seen the word in the catalogs and all), and even though it was a
one-piece Barry could imagine that it would look very, very hot wrapped
around a female body.
He went over to the bed and picked up the suit. He looked for a
label but the one he found only had a strange symbol on it - no name, no
washing instructions, nothing more than that symbol. It looked very well
made, though. High cut legs, and a breast-hugging top. He just stared at
the suit and began to get ideas.
Somewhere in Barry's past, he had come up with a curious conviction
about female's swimsuits. It wasn't anything he could have really
articulated - he didn't really consciously believe it, after all. But
somewhere below that conscious level, he had this idea that swimsuits
were capable of creating beautiful women. Not just displaying them to
their best advantage, but actually molding the women into those fantastic
shapes. Perhaps growing up in a nearly recreational-water-less town in
the midwest had something to do with it - after all, he had pretty much
never actually seen a woman in a bathing suit during his formative years,
and certainly not one that looked like the models in Sports Illustrated.
It wasn't a particularly reasonable deep seated belief, nor was it
terribly logical either. But it still had an effect on Barry as he stood
there in his roommate's bedroom and looked at that neon green swimsuit.
Not that he wouldn't have considered trying the thing on without that odd
belief, but maybe he had some subconscious high hopes for this particular
dressing session.
He quickly stripped out of his clothes and took the swimsuit over to
stand in front of Kathy's full length mirror. A glance in the mirror
showed him an average male body, thin, not particularly in or out of
shape, reasonably hairless (though that was still too much hair as far as
he was concerned). It was a little too square in the shoulders, too
straight from shoulders to hips, too man-ish to be easily disguised as a
female, much to his dismay. But he was still curious as to what he would
look like in the swimsuit.
He fumbled with the suit for a bit until he figured how it should go
on. Holding the back open, he stepped into the leg holes one foot at a
time. He pulled the suit up his legs and with a little bit of a struggle
he settled it around his waist. He felt it tight around his legs and
waist, but no where else - well, one other place. He slipped his hand
down the front of the suit and arranged his male equipment so they went
back between his legs. His balls slipped back up into his body and his
rod just pointed backwards. He gave a little extra tug on the suit and
the crotch slipped up into final position, holding everything in place.
He held the top of the suit out of the way and looked in the mirror, and
smiled when he saw that nothing showed between his legs. Perfect.
He put his arms through the straps of the suit and pulled the top
half of the suit up so that the straps settled onto his shoulders. The
suit was barely long enough for him - he could feel the crotch pulling up
against him as the straps pulled down. Another look in the mirror
actually disappointed him: the suit really looked pretty bad on him! The
waist was tight - a little too tight, and it showed. The hips of the
suit, in contrast, were very loose and wrinkled. As the suit came up from
the waist it got looser and looser on him, with the slightly cupped
breast area looking like deflated balloons since it had nothing
substantial to enclose. In short, he made the beautiful suit look
hideous, which was exactly the reason he had never really been able to
get into crossdressing all the way.
He thought about just taking the suit off and forgetting about it.
But maybe he should at least put it all the way on properly by zipping it
up before giving up. He twisted and turned, reaching back and fumbling
blindly until he finally grabbed the zipper tab and began pulling it up.
The suit fit him tautly enough that he had little trouble pulling the
zipper up, until he got to the small of his back, where his hand refused
to continue to go. More twisting and turning finally got the tab up far
enough that he could reach over his shoulder and grab it. Just one more
tug and the suit would be closed ...
*****
Kathy looked around the hotel room and made sure everything was
ready. It was, except for the final touch. She opened the second suitcase
she had brought along for her business weekend and began to take out the
items in it and arrange them on the second bed. This was a business
weekend, but not one for the company she worked for. True, it involved
clothes she had designed and made, but these clothes were very
specialized and even more expensive than the designer clothes she made
for her employers.
Kathy was a witch. She had started the learning process in high
school, at the prep school her parents had sent her to to try to polish
her into a proper young lady. It hadn't worked particularly well, but
well enough that she was able to fool her parents, who subsequently sent
her away to college as promised. In college she had discovered her talent
for designing clothes, and greatly improved her grasp of witchcraft. She
wasn't unique in her abilities, and so had had plenty of teachers, as
well as fellow students to practice and study with. She also learned how
to keep her abilities a secret from the world at large without completely
stifling them.
Her current sideline had started a few years earlier when she had
been visited by one of her prep school roommates, and the one who had
shown her into the world of the more-than-normal. As soon she had seen
Lilly, she had realized that something was different about her. Lilly had
never been all that good at magic - she had only ever mastered a few very
basic spells - but that was okay because she was a really great person,
as well as very beautiful. But Kathy noticed that a certain portion of
Lilly's anatomy had been rather noticeably enhanced since last they had
seen each other, and Kathy wondered how.
Magic had the ability to transform. But it was a very difficult
spell to work - not complicated, or hard, but time consuming, and
requiring a great deal of exactitude. It was nearly impossible to cast on
ones-self - the effects of transforming spells tended to be disruptive as
they did their work, and the feat of concentrating on the spell amidst
the effects was nearly impossible. There were magic practitioners who
specialized in transformations but their rates were commensurate with the
normals who did their work with knives and sutures (though magic had a
much lower failure rate, and there was no recuperation, as such,
necessary), and there weren't nearly as many magical transformers as
plastic surgeons, so their waiting lists were usually phenomenal. It was
just natural curiosity that led Kathy to ask Lilly how she had chosen to
enlarge her breasts. But Kathy was shocked by Lilly's answer: "I did it
myself. Like 'em?"
As it turned out, much to Kathy's relief (she didn't want to think
that Lilly could attempt a spell that Kathy wouldn't even dream of
looking into), Lilly HAD done the transformation, but not in the usual
way. She had purchased a lot from an estate sale that contained some old
books, and she had been lucky to find that one of the books was a
research journal of a wizard from several hundred years before. Before
selling the book to one of the magic colleges, she had looked through the
book and found a certain type of transformation spell that she had kept
to herself. The unique aspect of this transformation spell was that it
was meant to be cast on an article of clothing. Not to transform the
clothing, but to enable the clothing to transform the wearer.
Lilly was living proof that the spell worked, but she had never
really done much with it. She happily traded it to Kathy for some
services that Kathy was more able to do than she, and the professional
designer began to do deeper research into the spell to learn the
parameters of it, how it worked, why it worked, and what exactly it could
and could not do. And then she began to put it to use in a way that had
been suggested by Lilly herself.
She had had to be cautious at first. You couldn't market a line of
transforming clothes openly, and you didn't want the ability to be
abused, or cause you to be abused, either. But using some carefully
selected initial clients and word of mouth thereafter, she had managed to
turn her sideline into a truly amazingly lucrative part time business.
She pulled the last garment out of the suitcase and draped it
artfully on the bed. Looking them over, she realized that something was
missing. She ticked each garment off of her mental list of what the
client had ordered, and realized that she had left the swimsuit back at
home! She suffered a momentary twinge of worry - Barry was at home with
that magical garment, after all - but then again, why should that worry
her? It wasn't like he would try it on or anything ... So, she would just
explain to her client, and offer to ship the swimsuit when she got home.
She was puttering around the room, putting finishing touches on the
display when the phone rang. It was the front desk - her client had
arrived.
*****
Barry gave the final tug and the zipper snicked closed. He had just
enough time to notice that the suit didn't look any better this way when
his whole body convulsed in a spasm of really pleasurable pain. His eyes
closed involuntarily, and he almost fell over as his knees nearly gave
way. The whole thing - whatever it was - passed the next second, leaving
Barry gasping and leaning by one arm against the mirror.
When he felt better, he opened his eyes and pushed himself back
upright. He instinctively looked in the mirror, and then nearly fainted
again from what he saw.
Looking back at him from the mirror was a beautiful woman wearing a
neon green swimsuit with hot pink and black accents. In fact, the suit
looked exactly like the one he had found on his roommate's bed and had
put on, but the person wearing it looked nothing like he did. Several
theories ran through his head - things on the level of the mirror being a
gateway into a strange parallel dimension where the people were different
but the clothes were the same. Then he looked down and was shocked to
find that the swimsuit now fit him absolutely perfectly!
He looked into the mirror again and took stock of what he saw. The
swimsuit was covering a very attractive female figure, stretched taut
over nicely sized breasts and nicely rounded hips and ass, hugging a
narrower waist than he had had before. The arms and legs that protruded
from the suit were just as feminine as the shape beneath it - long and
slender and totally hairless. The scooped neck of the suit showed the
swellings of cleavage that rose to a swanlike neck, upon which was
perched a lovely oval face featuring a tiny nose and large, emerald eyes,
framed by long golden brown hair. He studied the face and the body
closely, but there really wasn't even a shred of his old self there.
Everything was different - hair color, eye color, shape of face, chest,
hips. Even his fingerprints! (Or so he imagined - he was pretty sure his
thumb was a left hand double whorl, but these thumbs were single
whorls...)
As his mind was traveling these kinds of paths, he had a sobering
thought. He looked down between his legs, and was momentarily horrified
to see that nothing showed there but a flat, female-type groin. Then he
remembered that he had been very happy to see that same (mostly) flat
female-type groin when he first put the suit on. He reached around behind
his back and fought the zipper back down, and stripped the suit off just
as fast as he possibly could.
When the neon green fabric had been flipped into the corner, he
looked into the mirror again. His eyes widened as they saw only a
triangle of hair between his now rather more full thighs. Hoping against
hope, he spread his thighs apart and heaved a sigh of relief when his
cock sprang up from where it had been trapped for so long.
He looked back into the mirror and saw the strange, yet exciting,
image there. Mostly female, but possessing that essence of maleness, a
cock. His new body was just as beautiful naked as it had been in the
swimsuit. The breasts were full, with well-delineated aureoles and nice,
big, thick nipples. The skin was nice and creamy all over, with no
extraneous hair anywhere except between his legs. It was a beautiful
body. A fantasy body, in fact. Was this just some kind of dream? Could he
really have the body of a beautiful woman, like magic or something?
His fingers reached for his breasts, to see if they were as real as
they looked. He felt soft, smooth skin - sure seemed real. His fingers
trailed over to his nipple and stroked across it, sending a jolt of
pleasure straight to his groin. His cock, already semi-hard from the
beautiful image in the mirror, throbbed and gained stiffness from the
nipple-jolt, and Barry gasped from the reaction. Without even thinking
about it, he grabbed his nipple and rolled it between his fingers, and
his knees almost buckled again as waves of pleasure flooded his body,
making his cock stand completely up and pulse but not stopping there -
the pleasure reached every part of his body!
One hand stayed at his new breast, teasing his nipple and feeding
his body sensations it had never known before. The other hand went to his
groin, wrapping itself around his cock familiarly, and began stroking,
which added the old (far too) familiar sensations of masturbation to the
new nipple-teasing pleasure and producing an amazing synergistic effect
that pushed him into orgasm in record time! Body-wrenching spasms rocked
him, and cum flew everywhere, and finally, drained, he collapsed backward
onto the bed.
It took a few moments to recover from his explosion. He lifted
himself up onto his elbows and looked down at his new body. He smiled -
this was really a dream come true! He thought about all the clothes he
could try on now, that would look really good - dynamite! - on him now.
As he slowly sat up, and then walked over to the corner of the room, he
thought, But first, I want to see myself in this magic swimsuit again.
*****
There was a knock on Kathy's door almost before the desk hung up.
She went over and answered it and greeted her client, Hanna Lath, and
ushered her into the room. Hanna was a small woman - thin, short,
somewhat underendowed. There was nothing about her that was remarkable.
Kathy usually didn't pry into the reasons her clients sought her out
(except to make sure that there was nothing illegal being contemplated),
but it wasn't hard to guess what probably motivated Hanna, especially
considering that she knew the specifications Hanna had given her for the
transformation matrices. Then again, that WAS exactly what she was
selling, wasn't it?
She settled Hanna in a chair, and engaged in small talk for a little
while, offering her a drink from the wet bar and renewing their brief,
superficial acquaintance. When Hanna seemed relaxed, she began her sales
spiel.
She picked up a simple black slip, nicely decorated with lace, and
handed it to Hanna. "Okay, Hanna, first thing I want you to do is to go
into the bathroom and take off your outer clothes, and the put this slip
on. It is very important that you do this - I cannot continue until and
unless you do it. Just put it on, wait for the tingle, and then you can
take it off again. If you want, you can put on the robe on the hook in
there before coming back out - that should make the rest of the fashion
show go much quicker."
Hanna smiled and took the slip into the bathroom. Kathy knew that
Hanna probably knew why the slip was necessary, and also already knew
much of what she was about to hear - after all, she was friends with at
least one of Kathy's previous customers since that was how she had
learned of Kathy's services. But Kathy preferred to give her whole
lecture to each new client - it absolved her (in her own mind at least)
of any problems that might arise later. She intended to give Hanna all of
the details, including safety information, of the clothes she was about
to buy. If Hanna ignored the lecture, or screwed up in some way later, it
was not Kathy's fault. (Not that the clothing was dangerous, or anything
- but better safe than sorry.)
Hanna returned, wearing the robe, and handed the slip back to Kathy.
Kathy probed the slip magically to make sure the matrix in the garment
had properly recorded the pattern that was the current Hanna. Satisfied
that it had, she started speaking again.
"The clothing I'm about to sell you has the power to transform you
to the specifications you provided me. But the magic involved has its own
rules and limitations, and that is what I am about to explain to you.
"The first time you put on one of the transformation garments, it
will change your body to the shape within its matrix. The transformation
will last for about 15 minutes after the garments is removed.
"If you put one on again - any of these, they all have the same
basic magic within them - within a seven day period, the second
transformation will last for an hour after the garment is removed. And if
you put one of these on for a third time within seven days of the first
time, the transformation will be permanent.
"This slip is something like a reset button. When you put it on a
moment ago, it recorded you as you are now. Any time you put it on, it
will remove all traces of previous transformations and return you to your
'normal' looks. For instance, since you will need to try each of these
garments on, without the slip you would have to leave this hotel as your
alter ego, or spread out the try-ons over about two months. But with the
slip, there will be no problem with you returning to your current life in
about two hours.
"Just so you are completely aware, the transformation of these
garments is complete. Nothing about the transformed you will be able to
be linked to the old you, right down to your DNA. Only your memories will
remain the same. The implications are obvious - you could stop being
Hanna Lath completely with these clothes. But I will warn you that it is
not a simple process to just become another person. While your body will
be different, there are all kinds of things that will not change with
your body - like your identification, your bank accounts, your entire
past history. Now, I know people who can arrange that kind of transition
if you should desire it and you have the price ...
"But enough exposition. How about you try on that tennis dress
there? Oh, and I'm sorry, but I left your swimsuit at home. I'll ship it
to you as soon as I get back..."
*****
The swimsuit went on the second time in a completely different way
from the first time. It fit properly, for one thing, so as he pulled it
up, it was more like pulling up a sock that fit tightly, than trying to
arrange a large sack around his body. He again had to tuck his cock back
between his legs. He took a good look at it before he did so, trying to
decide if it had changed along with the rest of him. It seemed much the
same except for the hair - it was completely hairless, now, as were his
balls, a change that was as welcome as the new breasts on his chest. What
he really couldn't decide was whether it was really larger, or whether
his new feminine hands were smaller so that it only seemed larger ...
But soon, the suit was back on his body, fitting it perfectly,
snugly. He still had to struggle with the zipper - none of his male
clothes had ever had a back zipper, after all. He braced himself as he
pulled the zipper closed, but all he felt this time was a little tingle -
nothing earthshaking at all.
He posed in the mirror for a while - pretending he was showing off
at the beach, pretending he was a model, pretending he was a pretty girl
walking down the street. He probably would have posed for the rest of the
afternoon (between bouts of jerking off - his posing made his arms brush
across his chest, which excited his nipples, which made his cock throb
between his legs.....) if not for the ringing of the doorbell.
Panic was his first reaction - he was going to be caught! Reason
soon quelled that thought, though - all he really had to do was not
answer it, after all. No reason to worry.
But when the bell rang again, both of those first thoughts were
simply discarded in favor of a 'what the hell, why not!' that really
surprised him. But before he could stop himself, he was halfway to the
door and by the time he got himself back under control he found himself
facing a man in a brown uniform through the screen door of the townhouse.
The man's eyes flicked down and then back up, surveying the gorgeous
woman in the pretty swimsuit quickly and smiling in reaction before
getting back to business. "Is there a Kathy Cerlaon here, miss?" he
asked.
Barry didn't answer immediately, because he had seen the delivery
man's surveying glance and had reacted extremely peculiarly to it. He
knew very well what the man - the patch on his chest said Dan - had seen,
since he had been staring at the same view when the bell rang. So he knew
that Dan was looking at, and reacting to a beautiful woman. And with that
image filling his own mind, Barry's reaction to Dan's look was one of
pleasure, especially when the delivery man smiled, which sent a little
thrill of victory through him. Victory in that a stranger found the way
he looked pleasing. Which disturbed him deeply the next second, when he
realized how completely female his reaction had seemed.
Mentally shaking off his confusion, he said, "Uh, no, uh, she's away
for the weekend."
"Well, could you sign for this package then?"
"No problem." Barry opened the door, realizing as he did so that he
might not want to sign his real name, since he knew he didn't look like a
'Barry' right now. He took the brown-wrapped box from Dan and set it
beside the door, and then took the pad from him, signed his initial and
last name on the LED window, and handed the computerized gadget back. As
Dan verified that the signature was properly recorded, Barry impulsively
said, "Would you like to come in for a moment? Its nice and cool in
here." Not that it was all that hot for a spring afternoon, but he wasn't
exactly well versed in come-on lines.
Dan considered for a moment, then pushed a button on the pad,
nodded, said, "That would be great, miss," and slid past him into the
living room of the townhouse. Barry shut the doors and said, "Please,
have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Beer? Soda? Water?"
"Um, water would be fine. I'm pretty particular about my beer."
"I don't drink beer at all - I'm more the wine cooler type." Barry
wasn't much of a drinker of anything, but he had never had a wine cooler
in his life. As he filled a glass with ice, and then spring water, he
figured he had said that because it was the kind of thing he supposed
cute women in neon green swimsuits were supposed to say to delivery men.
As he carried the glass over to Dan's chair, he wondered what else he was
likely to do because that's what he supposed cute women in green
swimsuits did.
The pose he used to deliver the glass to the delivery man was nearly
natural - bent over from the waist, flashing cleavage and a dazzling
smile at the man. "Can I get you anything else?" Dan's eyes never left
that flashing flesh as he shook his head briefly. "No, I'm fine."
Barry straightened up coyly and sat down opposite the coffee table
from Dan. Silence reigned uncomfortably until Barry ventured a pretty
lame attempt at conversation. "So, what's it like being a delivery
person?"
Dan grinned and said, "Well, it has its perqs. Like being invited
into the homes of beautiful women..."
Barry grinned back, pleased by Dan's compliment, but also worried.
He wasn't much of a conversationalist at the best of times, and this
wasn't even close to one of those best of times because of the potentials
present. He didn't know why, and he refused to think about it, but he
knew what he wanted to happen before Dan got back in his big van and
drove away. And he had no idea of how to lead things gently into that
situation.
Once again, 'what the hell!' came to the rescue. He stood up and
walked over to Dan as sexily as he could manage. He leaned down and began
unbuttoning the brown shirt Dan was wearing, and said, "I like being a
perq. I wanna be the best perq you've had all month..."
The idiot grin that split Dan's face told Barry that the delivery
man was reacting just the way he would have in the face of imminent sex:
no thoughts of reasons or consequence, just anticipation of pleasure.
Which was a good way to be, thought Barry. In fact, for the moment at
least, using the male pronoun for himself put too much of a barrier
between himself and that pleasure so he decided to think of himself as
what he seemed to be, at least for the moment. And so, Barry became a
'she'.
Dan's shirt was soon draped over a chair, and Barry was running her
hands across his chest, cooing appreciatively. He wasn't built like a
typical porn-video stud (which was as close as Barry had ever come to a
man in this kind of situation), but he was cute, and relatively hairless,
and all male which was good enough for her.
Her hands went to Dan's belt, and the delivery man's hips lifted
away from the couch immediately. Barry knelt down to undo the buckle,
open the fly, and pull the slacks down. She smiled up and the still
grinning Dan when she saw the paisley decorated red bikini-briefs he wore
- the bulging and brief bikini-briefs he barely wore!
"Is that for me?" she coyly asked, and ran long fingers and long
nails across the pulsing bulge. Dan needlessly nodded fervently, but
Barry wasn't even watching. She moved back a little so that she could
remove his slacks from his legs, and toss them after his shirt. Then, she
snuggled herself back up between his legs, feeling his thighs pressing
against the sides of her breasts. She bent her neck and ran her nose
along the ridge of the bulge in the briefs, teasing herself as well as
him. She ran her hands up and down his sides and hips, and after planting
a single kiss on the bulge that sent a tingle through her whole body as
she felt what it was her lips touched and understood that they would be
touching it even closer very soon, she hooked her fingers into the
waistband of the briefs and began to tug at them to remove them.
But Dan objected, in a very nice way. He gently pushed at her
shoulder and when she looked up at him, he said, "Would it be all right
to see more of you before you see more of me?"
Barry realize that she was still wearing the swimsuit. Her first
impulse was to strip it off - but sense was restored before she did
something REALLY stupid. She had nearly forgotten the source of the
throbbing between her legs, but having remembered her cock, she decided
that she didn't really want the added complication of Dan's reaction to
her actual (as opposed to apparent) gender in her seduction right now.
So, she compromised.
Smiling sweetly, she said, "Of course you may, Mr Delivery-Man. But
not quite everything." She reached behind herself and unzipped the suit.
She slipped her arms out of the suit and let the front of it fall slowly
away from her breasts. But instead of pealing it the rest of the way off,
she just let it hang from the constriction at her waist.
Dan didn't seem to mind - his eyes were all on her breasts. His
hands reached out and touched them, caressing them gently and with
surprisingly soft hands. When he flicked his thumbs across her nipples,
she gasped with the jolt of pleasure that sent through her body, and
especially to her trapped secret of a cock, causing it to throb nearly
painfully. Her head went back and her eyes closed as he continued to
tantalize her nipples, but when she felt his hand on her belly and moving
lower, she realized that she was letting the incredible pleasure her
breasts were capable of generating compromise her. She couldn't let that
continue.
With a sigh, she lifted her head, opened her eyes, and took his hand
off of her belly. "And now, back to the show," she said. She pushed him
back onto the couch and stripped off his briefs, revealing a cock that
wasn't much different from her own. Throwing his briefs on top of his
pants, she scooted back between his thighs and immediately took his cock
into her mouth.
She would have liked to take her time and truly savor her first
cock- sucking. After all, it was an important event in her life in
several ways. But, she also realized that Dan was a complete stranger,
and she was alone in the house with him and with a secret that most guys
would be very distressed to discover. She hoped that by giving him his
'perq' quickly (and thoroughly) she could keep him happy and get him back
out the door before he realized the advantage he had and was tempted to
use it.
Barry was no pro at blow jobs - in fact, she was a complete novice.
She had, of course, SEEN blow jobs countless times on video, but she
rapidly found that seeing and doing weren't exactly the same. Same went
for the fewer number she had experienced from the other end - she knew
what should feel good, but she wasn't exactly sure how to achieve it. So,
experimentation was the way to go - trial and error, with speed thrown
in.
Dan's cock pretty much filled her mouth, and when she tried to get
her nose into his pubic hair she learned first hand about that 'gag
reflex' she had heard about second hand. She locked a hand around the
base of his cock, though, and that kept her from accidentally trying to
take in too much. She worked her lips and tongue like a porn star (she
hoped), trying to stimulate Dan with energy and action instead of
technique. She bobbed her head up and down with her lips locked tight to
his shaft. Then, she tongued it like an ice cream cone, swirling her
tongue all over it. She stroked it with her fist as she licked just the
head, and she held it in her mouth, using tongue and cheeks to stimulate
it.
She was lucky in that Dan wasn't as much of a veteran of blow jobs
as he liked to think, and so he wasn't jaded by over-experience. Her
efforts were just fantastic to him, and his pleasure mounted almost
faster than either of them really wanted. Just as she was beginning to
forget about her 'get him out ASAP' philosophy and get into the cock she
was sucking, he started making gasping, groaning noises that she knew
intimately. She closed her lips around about half of his cock and using
tongue and fingers to keep it stimulated, she waited for the inevitable.
She didn't have to wait long for the pulsing explosion that filled her
mouth with a surprising amount of semen. She swallowed as fast as she
could, and succeeded in taking in every drop, even though she didn't get
to taste it very much. Still, what she had managed to sample, she found
herself liking. Yes, indeed, blow jobs were definitely something that she
wanted to keep giving...
*****
Kathy watched as Hanna took the tennis dress into the bathroom and
closed the door. She knew what her client would look like when she
emerged wearing the dress, but only in an abstract way. She had built the
spells into the matrix according to the specifications she had been
given, but that wasn't like drawing a picture, or sculpting a model - she
wouldn't actually see the results of her work until Hanna presented
herself in the tennis dress.
And then there were the results she had no way to see. She recalled
the additional commission Hanna's current lover had given her, to make
certain internal changes, both psychological and physical. She would
never have agreed to do something like that if Hanna herself hadn't
explained that it was a birthday present of sorts for Bert - while
Hanna's alter ego was a gift to herself, she had given Bert permission to
make a limited number of minor alterations in order to make said alter
ego special to him. It was kind of sweet, as well as kind of twisted. At
least, Bert hadn't abused the gift.
She didn't often go beyond appearances with her clothes, though it
was really no more difficult to alter personalities, or repair internal
organs with her magic. The harder part of things like that was doing it
so that nothing else was unduly damaged. She didn't have a head for the
details of psychology, or internal medicine, so she tended to stay away
from those kinds of alterations, except in the most superficial cases.
In Hanna case, for example, the changes asked for by Bert consisted
of a tendency to go with one's feelings, instead of analyzing and
considering before acting, and just a little help with vaginal
lubrication. For the first thing, he knew that Hanna's mind and
personality would still be within the new, sexier body she had requested
and he figured that she might have a little more fun (and not necessarily
just with him) if she could get over her shyness. And for the second
thing, well Hanna had some difficulty with that technical detail and
again, in view of the potential of her new body, Bert had figured some
slight assistance would be in order.
While each of the pieces of clothing had Bert's modifications built
into them, including the swimsuit left at home of course, there was a
special pair of panties that had only those two modifications built into
them. And since their matrix was different from that of the other
clothes, the resetting-slip wouldn't cancel out their effect, which would
mean that even the 'normal' Hanna would gain the benefits of Bert's
modifications. She had sent those panties to Bert, along with a set of
instructions to go with them, and left it up to him whether or not to
have Hanna wear them and change herself with them.
While it seemed almost logical to put those changes into a pair of
panties, there was no real reason that panties had to have been used. The
magic didn't really care what was carrying the matrix: a hat would have
worked as well. Even so, it was still somehow fitting to use appropriate
clothing - like the boxer shorts she had made for a husband of a past
client that had done a little groin modification for him. She could have
made him a ring, or a vest, or a pair of socks - but it just wouldn't
have been the same, somehow.
Hanna came out of the bathroom then, and Kathy smiled at the sight
of her own work. The new Hanna was tall-ish and still thin, but with a
fair amount of lushness at breast and hips even so. Her hair was long and
golden brown, and her eyes were large and emerald green, set around a
petite nose and topping a generously lipped mouth. There was grace
evident in her pose, and her tennis dress accentuated her new, sexier
body perfectly. There was a sparkle in those big green eyes as she looked
at Kathy, and the witch wondered whether she really saw what she thought
she saw there. Well, they still had all of Hanna's new wardrobe to go
through - plenty of time to figuratively feel the woman out and see
whether it might be necessary to order up room service for breakfast for
two.
*****
Barry modestly held her swimsuit up over her chest and waved to Dan
as he drove his delivery truck away. Then, she closed the door and leaned
against it with a sigh of relief, letting the top drop away from her
breasts and dangle from her waist. As she had hoped, Dan the delivery man
had fairly quickly thanked her, dressed, and left. And now she was safe
again.
She moved away from the door and absently stripped off the swimsuit.
Striding around the living room buck naked, still plenty aroused as a
result of the one-sided blow job, she tried to make sense of her
situation and the thoughts racing through her head.
After all, just a few hours ago she had been a man - or, more of a
man than just between her legs. Just a few hours ago she had never
seriously thought about touching a man sexually - not *seriously* anyway!
And now, after putting on a neon-green swimsuit, she now had a
wonderfully sexy, very female, body AND a cock, and thoughts to go with
both aspects of her new body.
And all kinds of other thoughts. Like, what was she to do about her
male-Barry life if she didn't change back? Like, how she was going to
explain all of this to her roommate? Like, why had the swimsuit changed
her?
Each of these questions could spawn dozens of questions of their
own, and she didn't even have the beginnings of an answer to any of them.
Nor could she think of a way to find those answers. She could feel
herself filling up with anxiety - she started to breathe heavily as
answerless questions circled again and again through her mind. Her vision
started to darken, tunneling narrower and narrower, and she felt her
knees getting weak as a whimper tried to work its way out of her mouth.
As suddenly as the attack came, it left. Completely gone, nearly
forgotten. She decided to shelve the questions until she could ask them
with someone else. Kathy would be home tomorrow and she was certainly the
one person she had no choice but to show herself to and talk to. Until
then ... well, until then she would just have to find something to occupy
her time.
She wandered around the apartment a few times, trying to find that
something. But nothing caught her fancy. None of the computer or video
games, none of the books or magazines, none of the puzzles, or craft
projects, or anything in the apartment could catch her interest. Of
course, she wasn't surprised - it was pretty much this situation that had
led her into Kathy's room for the fashion show. If circumstances had been
different, she would have gone out to try to find something that didn't
require money to waste her time - but she wasn't quite ready to take that
step. Not just yet.
She found that she had wandered over to the window and raised the
blinds, and was staring out at the great outdoors. There wasn't much to
see - the occasional pedestrian, the occasional car, lots of green grass.
This window faced onto a mostly empty parking lot, with a field on the
other side of it, so she couldn't even attempt to see into someone else's
apartment.
It was then that she realized that she was still naked. She looked
down and was relieved to see that the sill of the window came to a couple
of inches below her navel, hiding her secret. Her breasts were still on
display to anyone who could see her, but she didn't think anyone could.
And, she looked around to check, and saw that the angle was wrong for any
second story windows to see into this one, so her cock was definitely
totally hidden away.
The thought of being observed started to excite her. She started to
pose in the window, running her hands over her body, up under her
breasts, across her nipples, down her hips and to brush across her cock.
She imagined herself to be working in one of those 'Live Show' places in
a big city, enticing the passers-by to come on in and gawk at the nude
ladies. The fantasy increased her excitement, and she closed her eyes as
she imagined herself dancing for the crowds passing her window. Caressing
her breasts, tweaking her nipples, brushing fingertips across her
stomach. Tossing her hair, stroking her neck, biting fingers, and sucking
on them like they were something else.
Her fingers also caressed her cock, even though she pretended, as
part of her fantasy, that her hand was moving across a pussy and that the
movements of her hand could indicate that to her watchers. She noticed,
in the midst of her fantasy, that her hand was moving very easily over
her cock. She could feel the slickness of pre-cum on her hand, but in a
quantity that she had never felt before. She wasn't a leaker by any means
- or she hadn't been. Now, it seemed like she was more of a pre-cum
fountain. But that wasn't terribly important, and soon her fantasy was
back in full force.
She stroked her body and her cock, and dreamed of being watched by
dozens of strangers, and soon the pleasure peaked and her slippery cock
tensed, pulsed, and shot cum against the wall under the window. The
pleasure washing through her body continued long after her cock had gone
soft, and she just stood there, reveling in it.
Eventually, she opened her eyes and looked out over the fading
fantasy image of the city street that became once again the parking lot.
She didn't see anyone gawking at her, so she figured she hadn't really
been exposing herself to anyone. She idly wondered whether she could
really do something like her fantasy. She'd probably never know.
Something about the view began to look wrong. She stared out, trying
to recall what seemed odd or different to her. Then she realized - there
had been a telephone company van over by a pole on the street that ran
behind her townhouse block, and now it wasn't there. She thought about it
for a moment, and then dismissed any worries she had begun to have - why
should the absence of a van be a problem? And then, she saw a telephone
company van pull up and park by the entrance to the parking lot on the
street by her house. Was it the same van? What were the odds? Had she
been spotted after all? Should she worry?
The driver's door of the van opened, and a tall, handsome man got
out. He had long dark hair, and attractively tanned skin, and the
tank-top he wore showed off his nicely developed torso (making the
alternate term muscle-t very apt). His jeans were tighter than she would
have expected a workman to wear, but she certainly appreciated the view
they gave of his legs and ass. As he picked up his tool belt,
reconsidered, and put it back down, Barry dropped the blinds back over
the window in a near panic. She peeked between two slats in time to see
his eyes track away from her window and a dazzling smile light up his
face, as he started to walk in the direction (more of less) of her front
door.
"Oh my god," she thought. What now? She did the first thing that
came to mind - she got dressed. She picked up the swim suit and stepped
into the legs. She pulled it up around her waist, forcing herself to
ignore the cold wetness in the crotch - seemed like her little exhibition
wasn't the first time she had fountained pre-cum. She pushed her cock
back between her legs (with a bit of difficulty - why was she starting to
get erect?) and gave that little tug that snugged everything up nice and
tight. She slipped her arms into the armholes, and settled her breasts
into the cups. With only slightly fewer contortions than before, she
managed to get the suit zipped up. When the zipper snicked closed, she
felt a flash rush through her that jellied her knees, but it passed
before she could consider why it had happened this time and not last, and
what it might mean. And then all extraneous thoughts vanished from her
head when the door bell rang.
She headed for the door automatically, and then stopped herself. She
wasn't obligated to answer it. She didn't HAVE to confront that gorgeous
man and what he might or might not have seen. After all, she was alone
here. And she wasn't what she seemed. It was just too dangerous, no
matter how drop-dead beautiful the guy was.
And then she thought, "What the hell!" Almost without wanting to,
she decided to ignore her cautious side, her 'sane' side, and answer the
door.
Up close, he was even more gorgeous - classically handsome, with a
body that had seen just enough of a gym (or a close facsimile), long,
perfectly straight dark brown hair, and dark blue eyes. He wore two
biker- type silver rings, two earrings in his left ear and three small
loops in his right ear. His smile showed lots of teeth, and in contrast
to Dan the delivery man, this guy's eyes never left her face.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and melodious, making her insides
shiver in a way that had nothing to do with ordinary sound waves. He
said, "I saw your performance, ma'am, and I was wondering if I might be
able to get a more intimate showing?"
She should have been terrified. She had been seen, and the guy
thought she was some kind of slut or something that he could just
proposition right off of the street. And he certainly looked the type to
take what he wanted if it wasn't offered nicely. Then again, he certainly
hadn't had to ask, if force was his ultimate resource. So maybe it wasn't
as desperate a situation as it seemed.
Still, she felt she should be cautions. "Um, I'm not exactly sure
what you mean, Mr..."
"Call me Mark, beautiful. And I'm talking about your little dance in
front of that window on the side of the building. I'm also talking about
the whole show - I could see what the hand below the sill was doing, and
I have to say that the whole you intrigues me intensely."
"But how...how could you see...?"
"Because I was up on a telephone pole, and so could see more than
someone on the street could have. And you looked beautiful - ALL of you."
Barry was herself intrigued. Mark didn't seem like he intended to
force his attentions on her regardless of what she wanted - he was trying
to explain himself fully, and doing a pretty good job of it. And he had
seen all of her - there was no secret to protect from him.
She opened the door for him and stepped back. "Won't you come on in,
Mark? And you can call me B ... Brenda." She changed her name almost
automatically, and without a second thought.
Mark walked in and stood beside the door as she closed it. She
gestured him over to the couch that Dan had recently vacated, and took a
seat opposite as before. Mark looked around and complimented the room,
and she noticed his grin as he looked at the window she had posed at and
the stain below the sill. He looked back at Brenda and said, "You are the
most beautiful she-male I've ever seen, and I'd love to see you again,
like you were at that window. I know I'm a stranger, but I'd like to be
more - a friend, or even better, a lover. I also know I'm intruding into
your home, but I couldn't resist your beauty, or your unique charms.
Please know that I'll leave at any time you request, but I would
definitely like a chance to get to know you better - either now, or
later."
Brenda's head was definitely being turned by Mark. He was so
sincere, and so damnably handsome! She felt immediately that she had
nothing to fear from him - that he would leave if she asked, with no
questions (except maybe for her phone number first). What did she have to
lose (that she minded losing, at least)?
Deciding to get bold, she said, "You've already seen me unclothed,
and I have to say that I have no objections to letting you see me that
way again, and very soon now. But, before that, I would like to see you
in the same state. It would make me feel more at ease, among other
things."
Mark smiled happily as he said, "That sounds completely fair. Do you
just want me to strip off, or strip-tease?"
"By all means, give me a little show since I've already given you
one. Would you like some music?"
Mark nodded, and Brenda searched the CD shelf for a suitable
selection. She switched on the sound system and loaded the CD, pushed
play, and seated herself comfortably after turning the chair to face an
open spot of floor.
Mark danced to the music pounding out of the speakers, moving as the
spirit took him. His shirt was the first to go, and the torso revealed
was just as fine as she had imagined. He wasn't bulked out with muscles,
but there was just enough definition to make him look like a statue of a
Greek god.
He then danced with his shirt, whipping it around him, pulling it
between his legs, using it to tease. She noticed that while he usually
tried to look her right in the eyes as he danced, there were times when
his eyes closed and he seemed to be working his body just for the
pleasure of working it, not necessarily for her pleasure. She found that
even more exciting.
He threw his shirt away, and unbuttoned his jeans, taking several
minutes to do so. He unzipped them next, and slowly pushed them down,
almost having to peel them off of himself, so tight were they. He
revealed his full-cut plain blue briefs, but she only got a glimpse of
the tremendous bulge of his basket before he turned his back to remove
his jeans the rest of the way (including removing his shoes and socks -
something he had obviously forgotten to do earlier, but which he worked
into the dance perfectly). She was eager to see that basket, but didn't
mind the current view of a pair of amazingly tight buns stretching the
briefs excitingly. When he was wearing only those briefs, he tossed the
rest of his clothes after his shirt and turned back around to present his
still covered glory to his audience.
He danced in his underwear for a bit, running his hands over his
torso, hips and groin, thrusting his hips in time to the music, and
pulling up his briefs so that what they covered wasn't terribly hidden
any more. Brenda found herself rubbing her bent-back cock as Mark danced
- he was making her boil with lust!
He must have known the music that was playing - or maybe he was just
really lucky - because he stripped off his briefs by ripping them from
his body just as the track that was playing ended, posing with the final
drumbeat. His cock was magnificent - framed by a dark mat of curly hair
(just about the only hair on his body below his scalp), it hung down just
below perpendicular, long, mostly hard, cut, and beautifully pink. The
hairless balls below it were just the right size, and she thought the
whole picture belonged framed on her wall.
She applauded, and said, "Magnificent! And you dance well, too." He
grinned at her grin, and took a bow.
"Fair's fair," she said as she stood up. She unzipped the back of
the suit and slipped out of it with practiced ease. She was quickly
divested of the green swimsuit, and stood proudly in front of the equally
proud, equally naked Mark. The telephone repairman gazed at her from head
to toe with admiration and a kind of lust that didn't make her feel dirty
to be the object of. She returned the gaze, drinking Mark's image in and
memorizing it. He was just so beautiful...
Mark moved first. He took the two steps to close the distance
between them, and knelt in front of her. He ran his hands up her thighs
to her waist, and then back down her ass. And as he cupped her cheeks in
large, yet uncallused, hands, he opened his mouth and slurped her cock
into it.
Brenda gasped in amazement as she felt Mark's lips around her cock.
And she gasped again when she felt him take her into his throat and press
his nose against her groin. Either he was naturally talented, or not a
novice at this kind of thing! He hummed and swished his tongue, and
looked up at her from intimate position, smiling with his eyes as she
nearly swooned from the pleasure his relatively-static position
generated.
He pulled slowly back from her, lips tight around her cock, until
with a little *pop* she came free of him. He looked at the little pearly
runnel of pre-cum that was dripping onto the floor and put his tongue
under it. When he had caught a small puddle, he swallowed it, and licked
his lips. "Nice glaze!" he said before going back to his work.
Brenda was in awe of Mark's skill at pleasuring her cock. She was
nearly melting as he blew her, only his strong hands on her ass keeping
her from toppling to the floor. She could tell without a doubt that his
skills were far superior to hers as exhibited not long before - in fact,
he was giving her the best blow job she had ever, ever had, even from
Cynthia Morris, the High School Slut! She tried to concentrate on what he
was doing and how he was doing it, so she could learn to suck like that,
but the pleasure just kept getting in the way. Eventually, she just let
it go after making a note to herself to get him to give her lessons.
Not very much later, Brenda was shaking and moaning on her perch of
Mark's hands as her cock jetted streams of cum into the telephone
worker's mouth. Even as she came, his lips were working, milking her in
perfect time, coaxing every last drop out of her balls with consumate
skill. When the spasming had stopped, Mark released her cock and stood,
managing to take her into his arms in the process (since she didn't have
nearly enough strength to stand on her own). He carried her over to the
couch and sat down, settling her into his lap and kissing her.
"My god," Brenda eventually said, "That was fantastic! Please teach
me how to suck cock like that, Mark...Please!"
"My pleasure, beautiful Brenda. Absolutely my pleasure. And thank
you for the compliment. I've had a bit of practice, but never on such a
lovely person as yourself."
Brenda blushed at the returned compliment, and kissed him. Mark
played with her breasts and stroked her as they necked, but eventually
the presence of the stiffness in Mark's groin penetrated (no pun
intended) her consciousness and she said, "I think its your turn to cum,
Mark, and you definitely deserve the choice of how."
"I'd be honored if you would permit me to fuck you, Brenda."
Brenda's eyes widened at the thought - she had expected to either
blow him inexpertly, or give him a hand job. But being fucked in the ass
- that was taking some kind of final step away from her former life. Then
again, what kind of choice did she have, at least when it came to
stepping away from her former life. And she had to admit that the mention
of being fucked by Mark did stir feelings inside of her, and make her ass
tingle ...
"I would be equally honored to be fucked by you, Mark, but I should
tell you that I'm an ass-virgin. So, take me gently, please?"
"I'll be as gentle as I'm able, Brenda. I have no desire to hurt
you, or to make your first time anything less than the best sex you've
ever had."
Preparations were swift. Mark positioned an ottoman in front of one
of the arm chairs, and piled pillows on the seat of the chair. Brenda
fetched some lube and condoms from her room, and a satin sheet and
satin-covered bed-sized pillow from Kathy's room, and then some
refreshments from the kitchen. The satin sheet covered the chair and
ottoman, making the makeshift love-bed into something a little more
classy. If it had been later in the day, Brenda would have loved to have
put candles all around the room, but she settled for closing the blinds
and letting Mark select several CDs from the music rack. It was still
perfect enough for her.
They sat on the couch for a bit, sipping fruit juice and nibbling on
cookies. They chatted inconsequentially - they stayed away from heavy
topics for the moment, even though they both really wanted to get to know
each other much more deeply than they so far did - and occasionally
reached over to stroke or caress a portion of their partner's anatomy.
Eventually, there was more touching than snacking, and Mark said, "I
think we're both ready to begin, eh?" They walked over to the love-bed
and got Brenda situated comfortable on it. She was surprised at how
comfortable it was, though she was in a position she had never been in
before. Mark positioned the bed pillow under her hips to raise them to a
better position, and found that everything was at exactly the right
height. He leaned forward from between her legs, licked each nipple and
then kissed her. "I know I said I didn't want to hurt you, and I don't.
But even though I intend to prepare you to the best of my ability, it is
fairly likely that there will be some pain. Just remember, love, that the
pain will go away. I wouldn't lie to you. Tell me if it hurts too much,
and I'll pause for a bit. And if it just hurts way too much, tell me and
I'll stop. Okay?" The sincerity in his eyes soothed the fears his words
had brought up in Brenda, and she smiled and kissed him back. "I'm
ready."
He did start slow. One finger, well lubed, between her ass cheeks,
probing almost teasingly. He kissed and licked at her thighs, ran his
other hand across her stomach and breasts, and slowly worked his finger
inside of her. She could feel him wiggling it and wriggling it, slowly
stretching the muscles in her ass that would try to keep him out, and
thereby cause pain. His stretching of the muscles made them tire, so that
they couldn't clench so tightly. But it took a very long time. She
thought she was ready after about 10 minutes of that, but when he slid a
second finger in with the first, she could feel the stretch and the hint
of pain that caused. So, he continued to work and stretch her, taking as
much time as he needed to, never rushing, never impatient. She might have
gotten impatient, if the whole stretching process wasn't so exciting -
she had never imagined that having someone's fingers down there could be
stimulating! And what he was doing to her with his hands and lips were
certainly taking her mind off of the time it was all taking.
She noticed when the third finger slipped in - that slight extra
stretch. He worked away, and worked away, and she noticed the fourth
finger but just as an added fullness, without any painful stretching. She
knew what had to be next since she didn't think he would try to fist her
without asking, and she was eager to be fucked, but perfectly willing to
let him take his time. She had certainly never been fussed over, or
focused on, like this before, and she never wanted it to end.
She was barely aware of anything but her pleasure by the time Mark
changed position, straightening up between her legs and placing his hands
on her hips. She did, however, notice the difference in the feel of the
intrusion between her legs - it didn't stretch her more, or hurt her at
all, but it did feel different than 4 fingers, more like a single thick,
blunt object. She didn't hear Mark's gentle, "Ready? Here I come," but
she did feel the object begin to be pressed into her. Slowly it
penetrated, stretching her like the fingers had, and then pushing deeper
than the fingers had, causing her to stretch and pull, and gasp in pain.
Mark stopped immediately, and brushed his hands across her belly
soothingly. When her breathing had returned to its former excited state,
he gripped her hips again and the pushing started again. She gasped
again, and he stopped again - and the pattern repeated again, and again.
Sometimes, he pulled back a little before pushing in again, but he didn't
want to pull all the way out until he had gone all the way in.
The small increments were working - though Brenda felt more stuffed,
more full than she ever had before, there wasn't much pain at all. Each
new stretching was taking less and less time to get used to, and soon she
was looking forward to the stretching as much as the fullness. She was
beyond the place where the concept of what was happening to her could
have any influence on her pleasure - she would have to wait 'till next
time to get all misty-eyed over the idea of being fucked, of being
penetrated by a male, of taking someone else inside of her body like
that. Right now, all she could feel was pleasure, a different pleasure
from any she had ever felt before, but still just pleasure.
Mark was almost as full of pleasure as Brenda was, but he had work
to do to generate more, so he wasn't completely free to just revel in it.
But he remembered what his first time had been like, and he could see
much the same kind of experiences in Brenda's face and body. He worked
his cock into the beautiful transsexual, his forward pushes coming closer
and closer together as she adapted to the size of him. And when his groin
touched hers he sighed and leaned down to kiss the panting mouth of his
beautiful lover. He pulled back slowly, kissing her breasts and sucking
her nipples, and then bending hard to lick at her pre-cum-oozing cockhead
before straightening up and starting to rock his hips back and forth,
giving Brenda her first fucking.
Each thrust made Brenda gasp, and each withdrawal made her sigh.
Soon, her body was rocking under her own unconscious direction, enhancing
the stroking motion, increasing her pleasure. With amazing precision, she
kept up with Mark's motions, even when he rocked his hips from side to
side, or slowed down, or speeded up. She was connected to him in more
than just a physical way, and that only made the pleasure spiral up even
faster.
Neither of them wanted it to end - they were fucking in perfect
harmony, the best *either* of them had ever had it. But, wishes seldom
come true, and even a wish couldn't stop orgasm from completing even the
most perfect of sexual unions. They came together, her cock fountaining
cum across his chest as well as hers, while his cock pulsed and shook
inside of her and really stretched the condom with his semen.
The afterglow was almost as intense as the actual orgasm for both of
them, leaving each of them locked for some time in their final fucking
position. Eventually, Mark's cock softened enough that the muscles in
Brenda's ass pushed him out as they struggled to return to their normal
shape, and as if that was some kind of release valve, he collapsed on top
of Brenda. Arms wrapped around each other instinctively, and they settled
into comfortable positions with respect to each other, and fell asleep
right there.
Even after Brenda woke up, she thought she was still in a dream.
Mark was just as handsome in his sleep as awake, and he fitted against
her perfectly - he was so comfortable on top of her that she almost
didn't even notice his weight. She hoped that she would be able to get to
know this wonderful stud, and that Kathy would have some of the answers
she would need to build herself a new life that Mark could be part of.
She thought about Kathy, and felt a stirring in her groin. So, she
still had some of those male feelings, huh? Or, maybe she had been
bisexual all along, and had just never been able to deal with the
homosexual side of her former male self. Well, whatever. She wondered if
Kathy would like Mark, and vice versa. She wondered what a three-way
would be like. She wondered all kinds of neat and wonderful things, and
eventually wondered herself right back to sleep.
End