From agate!howland.reston.ans.net!Germany.EU.net!zib-berlin.de!fub!sauveur!nienor!nienor!not-for-mail Tue Oct 3 10:41:12 1995
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: TG: We Never Make Mistakes by Olivia Evans (1/2)
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Date: 2 Oct 1995 00:33:56 +0100
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Xref: agate alt.sex.stories:103265 alt.sex.stories.tg:899
Hi.
This time I made a exception in posting this story. This story isn't
finished and I hope that by posting this part of mine someone or even
the author herself will post or mail the missing parts.
As ever I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
We Never Make Mistakes
by Olivia Evans
The silver haired man in the white doctor's jacket frowned in annoyance to my
suggestion that a mistake had been made.
"You are wrong, we never make mistakes." He said frostily, offended that I
would have the audacity to even think of suggesting it.
"Then how do you explain these?" I demanded as I pointed towards the alien
objects.
"Explain what?" He asked, looking again where I had been pointing.
"These... these... lumps!" I replied angrily, not willing to acknowledge
even to myself what they were.
He stopped staring at my bare chest and looked sideways into my eyes. There
was a slightly bewildered look on his face. I could tell that he was
wondering if I was crazy or just plain stupid.
"Those 'lumps' as you call them, are mature female mammary glands or, if you
prefer more common and cruder terms, boobs or...," He shuddered slightly,
"...tits. Under certain circumstances they are capable of secreting a liquid
commonly referred to as 'mother's milk'. They are, if I may say so myself,
perfect. They are neither too large nor too small for the rest of your
body..."
The REST of my body? I hadn't thought to look beyond the startlingly huge
mounds of flesh firmly attached to my chest. I slowly lifted the sheet that
covered the rest of my body to peek underneath.
"...and are absolutely exquisite in shape and form." He finished proudly.
For the first time since I died, I wished I'd never been born.
--O--O--O--
I suppose I should explain what had transpired in the last few days before my
death so that all this would make some kind of sense.
Maybe if I explained it well enough, I might even begin to understand it
myself.
--O--O--O--
First of all, despite my conversation about my well formed and rather full
breasts with the man in the white doctor's coat, I am a man, or at least I
was before I died rather prematurely.
About four days ago, or at rather four days prior to the date of my death, my
wife Nancy and I were sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of coffee
after our Sunday breakfast.
Coffee. That was about all we were enjoying.
We had just had one of our knock down, drag out fights over something. To
this day I still don't remember what it was that I'd done to offend her, but
it had to have been something important.
We had "discussed" it for nearly an hour before eating breakfast. By the
time I finished scraping the dirty dishes clean and putting them in the
dishwasher, I found myself apologizing, as usual. I really didn't know for
what, which was also as usual.
Most of the "discussions" in our short married life ended that way, with me
always being in the wrong.
Nancy, smug in her latest small victory, snapped opened the Sunday morning
newspaper, and turned to the Business Section. Nancy had always considered
herself to be an astute business person and always read the Business Section
first. Personally, I like to read the funny papers, after I've read the
fashion news that is.
"Mark, listen to this." She said looking up from an advertisement she had
been reading. "'The Ultimate Insurance Policy is now available to the
general public'," She read aloud from the ad.
"'Unlike most life insurance policies, The Life Assurance Policy does not pay
your beneficiary after your death, but actually guarantees that you will have
a long and happy life yourself after what most people would consider to be
the end of life..." She continued reading the rest of the ad to herself.
I perked my ears up, not quite believing what I had heard. Who sold it, I
wondered, some off beat religion? Unfortunately for what would occur later,
my curiosity got the better of me.
"An 'after life' insurance policy?" I asked, suspecting that it was a joke,
or some kind of con job.
"That's what it appears to be. At least, it sounds something like that. It
has to be some kind of joke or confidence game." She replied, mirroring my
own thoughts.
Falling silent again, she read the rest of the strange advertisement and
looked at me thoughtfully for a few minutes. Obviously making up her mind
about something, she circled a telephone number and picked up the telephone
we had installed next to the table. She dialed what appeared to be a long
distance telephone number.
I frowned when I mentally counted the numbers, there had been an area code.
Because I did most of my work at home, our monthly telephone bills were
always huge and I could just barely manage to pay it each month out of my
salary. It would be even larger this month, I frowned.
Seeing my expression, she said. "Don't worry, its an '800' number. Since
they're paying for it, I thought that I would...."
She stopped and listened for a few seconds while someone answered on the
other end. I lost interest in the conversation after she had told the
salesman that she had read the ad and was interested in hearing more about
the policy.
Nancy talked to the salesman for nearly half an hour, giving me ample time to
finish the funny papers. About the same time I finished reading the "For
Better or Worse" comic strip, I heard Nancy making an appointment for
physical for Monday afternoon.
"Now, what are you doing?" I asked. "Don't you think that one million dollar
policy on yourself is enough?"
"Mark Oberman!" She said annoyed, thinking that I had been listening in on
her conversation. "You heard my end of the conversation, and you know very
well that the policy is for you! I've been after you to take some insurance
out on yourself ever since we got married over a year ago. You haven't and
frankly, I'm tired of waiting."
"But honey, I don't think that I can afford another payment. My salary is
stretched pretty thin as it is." I said, trying to make her see my side of
the issue. After all it was I that was making all of the household payments.
She got that "I don't want any arguments" look on her face as she continued
to speak. "I'm going to buying you an Issuance Policy, and that's that."
"Why do you want an insurance policy on me? You've got all the money that
you could ever use from 'Nancy's'." I asked the question that was asked each
time the question of insurance policies or money came up.
"That's true, I do have all the money I could ever use, or need. But if
something ever happened to you...." She trailed off, not wanting to finish.
As much as I knew Nancy loved me, I also knew the reason why she had
constantly harped on getting an insurance policy. The small amount of money,
(well, a million dollars is small in comparison to the total worth of
"Nancy's"), wouldn't have made that much difference. If worse came to worse,
she could always sell off some of the "Nancy's" stores.
Of course she would never stand for that, they were part of her family.
No, it wasn't really my death that would bother her, it was what would happen
to the business. We both knew that "Nancy's", our small chain of up scale
women's apparel and lingerie stores, wouldn't last a year if I died.
The million wasn't to cushion the blow of my death, it was to buy Nancy
enough time to find a new chief buyer. Nancy had a good sense of business,
but horrible taste in women's clothing. It made sense and try as I could, I
couldn't find fault in her business logic.
It looked like I was going to end up with an "after" life insurance policy no
matter what I said, so why bother to complain again that I couldn't afford
it. I just hoped that it would be cheap enough to squeeze into my household
budget.
--O--O--O--
Later that day we got around to something I liked to do. Like the thousands
of Valley Girls who, with their wealthy father's credit cards or rich boy
friends, we were going shopping. Unlike most of the men the Valley Girls
dragged along with them however, I loved looking at and shopping for women's
clothing.
Generally, all I do is watch what women are wearing and when. If I actually
look at women's clothing in the stores, it's mostly to find out who is
selling what and who the manufactures are.
Buying women's clothing for a living is not all hard work, in fact I've
rarely found myself being even the slightest bit tired, even after hours of
wandering between the miles of dress racks in the mall.
Usually when I tell other men that I buy women's dresses, I get some mighty
strange looks.
Occasionally however, I get someone who throws me that special odd look that
indicates that they think I'm buying them for myself. They are the ones that
I take delight in announcing I'm also in women's lingerie. Years ago, I
think I would have bopped anyone in the mouth who seriously thought I did,
now I treat it as a big joke.
If they laugh I don't bother to explain. If they don't, I give them my card
and explain the humor of the joke.
Make no mistake, in spite of my feeble little joke, I am very good at what I
do and have never worn a woman's dress or panties in my life.
I work hard to make sure that what I buy is both trendy and in good taste.
As a result, my stores, I like to think of them as mine, even though they are
solely owned by my wife, do quite well. In fact, the net profit from
"Nancy's" last year was close to seven figures.
Not that I see much of it. For business reasons, Nancy has me listed as an
employee for a small salary and a small slice of profit sharing. I did quite
well, grossed a little over 24 grand. Nancy often referred to my salary as
my allowance.
Most people, even our closest business associates, don't know that Nancy and
I are married. Being a "silent partner" in more ways than one with my wife
is at best, trying.
I have very little say in the actual running of the stores. When we're in
the office, I'm frequently treated by Nancy with no more respect than if I
were a mere salesclerk.
Less in fact, Nancy is quite friendly with a few of the more attractive young
ladies. Sometimes, she is more friendly than I care for.
But that isn't really part of my story. Not really.
--O--O--O--
The offices of the insurance company were located on the top floor of the
tallest building in town, a bare two blocks from our corporate headquarters.
Which wasn't saying much considering that the building was only three stories
high.
Of course the elevator wasn't working and I had to climb the stairs. There's
a hundred and two of them, in case you're interested.
I will have to admit, the offices were worth the climb. I don't think that
I've seen anything more opulent this side of "Decorator's Digest" in my life.
I mentally took some notes, there were color combinations here that would
look terrific in some of "Nancy's" more cosmopolitan stores.
The New Life Insurance Company also must have learned that the better looking
the receptionist is, the easier the sale. At least it seemed that way.
The girl, young woman really, she was too well built to be called a girl,
"manning" the front desk, asked my name with a voice that was more music than
anything else. When I told her, she picked up a telephone and spoke into it.
"Mr. Oberman, come in, we've been expecting you." A deep voice called out
from an open office door.
We?
I walked in the medium sized office expecting to see it crowded with people.
Other than the salesman I was the only person in the room. I always hated it
when people spoke of themselves in the third person plural.
The New Life Insurance Company salesman looked like an ordinary likable
individual. Not unlike most of the other salesmen I've met in years of
buying ladies undies.
I think though, that somewhere there is a secret school just for insurance
salesmen that has a course of instruction entitled "Likeability 101".
"Please sit down Mr. Oberman." He said, indicating an over stuffed chair. I
sat.
"Usually," He began without further preamble. "we just have those who are
buying our life insurance policy go to their own doctor for their physicals.
But since this is a new and very special type of policy, we felt it was
necessary to have our own doctors involved."
"Sounds reasonable." I agreed. "After all it is your money that you'll be
paying out if I die."
The salesman got a pained look on his face. "Mr. Oberman, I think that you
have misunderstood what our new policy will do for you. We will not be
paying out anything. What we guarantee with the New Life Policy is the
continuance of your very life."
"And just how do you propose to do that?" I asked somewhat sarcastically.
The salesman leaned back in his chair and put his fingertips together. His
hands looked like a very pale black widow spider doing pushups on a mirror.
He smiled his patented "Likeability 101" glistening white smile again.
"Very simple, Mr. Oberman, we do it by giving you a new body. Custom built,
either to your present body's, or to a completely new set of specifications."
He smiled broadly again at the dumbfounded question forming on my face.
"No, Mr. Oberman, its not a mechanical man, its a living, breathing human
body. We, uh... 'grow' them using a secret process. Now then, if you're
ready, I'll take you to see the doctor." We stood up and he led me down a
long corridor to an unmarked door.
He unlocked and opened it, stuck his head carefully inside, ready to jerk it
back if anything unpleasant was thrown at him I suppose.
"Mr. Oberman is here for his exam, Doctor." He said, motioning me to go on
in. I went in the room, trying hard not to show my reluctance.
The room looked like something out of a very bad Grade "B" science fiction
movie. Along two walls was shelving, which were, as well as every other
horizontal surface in the room crammed with all kinds of scientific looking
devices. Some, like the computer terminal on a small cheap metal desk, were
recognizable, most were not.
The fourth wall, the one with the door in it, had a huge picture of an object
that took me a while to figure out. It was a close up of a human eye blown
up to wall size. Somehow it seemed to fit the personality of the doctor, I
later determined.
As strange as the eyeball was, however, the oddest object of all in the room,
was sitting behind the desk. My first thought when I saw him was that I was
looking a three dimensional photo negative image of a monk.
He was the epitome of all the mad scientists in all the bad horror films I
had ever seen. His head was closely shaven on the sides and back, and had a
shock of pure white mop like hair standing straight up on top. His clothing
looked, and smelled, like they had been slept in for a week. And to this
day, I'll swear that when he burped, it smelled faintly of formaldehyde.
No wonder they kept this guy locked up, I thought as I nervously sat down in
the hard wooden arm chair across from him.
"Ah, yes. You're here to tell me what kind of body you want after you die."
He said looking at a small pile of papers in a pink folder. "The best place
to start is with sex. What kind of sex do you like?" He looked up
expectantly waiting my answer.
What kind of crazy question was that?, I asked myself. Obviously, one that
only a mad scientist would ask, was the only answer I could think of. I
decided that I would have a little fun with this guy.
"Sex?" I repeated. "Lots of it."
He actually started to type it into the terminal before it registered. He
turned from the screen and looked at me. "No, which sex do you want your new
body to be? Male or female?"
That was when I noticed that one of his eyes was looking directly at me while
the other was staring at the corner of the room. I fought the urge to look
over my shoulder.
Normally I don't make fun of other people and their handicaps, but this was
too much. Thinking that all of this was some kind of massive practical joke,
I couldn't help myself, I cracked a smile. I decided to play along with the
company's sense of humor.
"Sex? Why female of course." I said, outwardly I was serious, inside I was
splitting a gut I was laughing so hard. I was a little disappointed when he
merely entered my answer into the computer.
"Hair color?" He asked.
"Blonde, what else?" I responded. The rest of questions dealt mainly with
the size, shape and so on of the "body" that I would receive when I died.
Actually the specifications that I gave him were those of a real girl.
Slightly enhanced of course, I had made her about three inches taller, nearly
5'8', and a little bustier. But still patterned after a girl that I had
known in collage and had been in love with long before I met Nancy.
Her name was Susan Wentworth. Now there had been a fox if I'd ever seen one.
Like most first loves, I'd never been able to get her out of my mind. In
fact, it was a "Susan" that I had in mind when I bought the sexier lingerie
for "Nancy's".
Finally we finished all the questions on his list, and printed a copy of the
information.
"Sign here please." He said indicating a blank space with my name printed
under it. I signed and started to get up to leave. "Wait, don't you want to
see what you'll look like? Or shall I have the standard color print sent to
you?"
This kind of startled me. Did they actually have spare bodies stacked up
like cord wood somewhere? "Uh, sure. Uh, could I have both?" I asked,
sitting back down.
With a few seconds a computer generated picture was flashed on the computer
screen. There standing in the nude, and slowly rotating, was a miniature of
my enhanced version of Susan's body. Susan's body with my feminized face.
Now, I'm not homely enough to scare a bulldog off of a meat wagon or anything
like that, but my head, even with all the long blonde hair, thin eyebrows,
smaller nose and full lush red lips just did not belong on that body.
"Uh, is there something you can do with the face?" I asked, not because I
seriously wanted to improve the image of feminine myself, you understand, but
for the esthetic value of the poor girl on the terminal screen.
The doctor silently pushed a few buttons and there was a close up of my own
masculine face. The doctor waited expectantly for me to speak.
I studied it for a second or two and started to make suggestions. Each
change brought it a little closer to what I considered to be ideal. I had
two real life models to work from, Susan and my wife, both I considered to be
very beautiful women.
When the face of the girl was done, it wasn't a picture of either Susan or
Nancy, and it certainly wasn't me. In fact about the only similarity between
the woman's and my own face was the color of our eyes, blue.
She had a combination of Nancy's and Susan's features and was far better
looking than either of them. I could have easily fallen in love with the
blue eyed blonde on the computer screen.
I stared at the image while the doctor merged the face onto the beautiful
body. She was perfect!
--O--O--O--
I was already late for a buyer's show so I didn't wait around for an actual
copy of the policy, asking the "Mad Doctor" to mail it and the promised color
photo of my "after life body", to my home.
Unfortunately, the company did better than that, while I was at the show,
they had a messenger hand carry the envelope to our home. Of course, even
though it had been addressed to me, Nancy opened it.
I wasn't aware that she had even seen it, or even that it existed, when I
returned home later that night. If I had been, I might have been better
prepared for Nancy's reaction.
Then again, maybe not.
"Hi honey, I'm home." I called out as I walked through the door. I ducked
just in time as the vase shattered a few inches from my head. I must be
getting slower, I hadn't even seen that one coming, I had thought to myself
at the time.
"Don't 'hi, honey me'!" She screamed, waving a color photo in my face. She
was moving it around so fast that I just barely caught a glimpse of what it
was, a pink blur on a background of blue. "What is the meaning of this!"
"What?" I asked bewildered, trying to follow the rapidly waving photograph.
"This picture of this... this bare assed Blonde BIMBO!" She screamed and
threw the picture in my face. She was a little to far away for it to strike
me. It just kind of floated to the floor instead.
We both watched as the colorful sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. I
ducked down to pick it up, narrowly missing Nancy's open palmed swing as it
brushed the crown of my prematurely balding head.
I picked the picture up and knew immediately what it was. The computer's
graphics had done wonders to the model that I had seen on the screen. If I
didn't know any better, I would have sworn that it was a studio cheesecake
shot of a very sexy and very naked starlet.
I sat down on the floor hard and began to laugh. I couldn't help it, it was
funny.
Nancy had obviously believed that I was seeing the girl, the "bimbo", in the
picture. When in fact, if the insurance company's advertisements were to be
believed, that "bimbo" would be ME if I died.
It was almost too funny for words. I explained everything, including the
fact that the picture was nothing but an excellent computer graphics program.
I tried hard to get Nancy to see how funny the whole thing was.
Nancy didn't think it was funny at all, in fact she became even more upset
when I told her exactly who the picture was supposed to be, the result of my
little joke in the Doctor's office. I even told her where the basic models
had come from, her and of course, Susan. She was madder at that explanation
than if I'd admitted to actually having an affair.
I suppose that I shouldn't have mentioned Susan, but I've always felt that I
could be truthful with Nancy.
It took me over an hour to convince Nancy that it really was just a joke.
And another three hours to convince her that I didn't really want to have a
body like that. Another hour after that, to explain that Susan hadn't been
my secret lover. I had just been playing with the screwball insurance
company, and I was beginning to regret it.
It really was just a big joke, that's all, honest!
I think what finally convinced her was the passion that I threw into our love
making session that night. She loved it!
"Whew, anyone who puts that much work into giving a woman pleasure, couldn't
want to be a girl himself. Alright, I believe you." Nancy whispered in my
ear and sighed contentedly.
"If you believe me, then why did you create such a fuss?" I asked, knowing
that she would have made and even greater fuss if she had known that while I
had been kissing her, I was pretending to be making love to the girl in the
picture.
"It's just that I don't want to end up a widow." Nancy admitted. "Or end up
fighting with some girl that's sexier looking than I am, over a boy friend.
Especially, if that girl is my dead husband!"
I thought about it for a while, chuckling.
"I know just the hunk we should go after too." I quipped. I received a sharp
poke in the ribs for my attempt at humor.
"Damn you! It's not a laughing matter! I want you to march down to the
insurance company and tell them that you want to change your body back to
what it should be!" She poked me in the ribs again.
"Okay, okay!" I said growing tired of her sharp elbow.
"Do it tomorrow! Understand?" I received another sharp poke in ribs again.
"Alright, alright!" I said becoming irritated. I was exhausted from our love
making, trying to go to sleep and move out of her reach at the same time. I
was rapidly tiring of her tirade
"And if you don't...!" She fell silent in her anger over the beauty of the
"made to order" body I had designed.
"And if I don't? Then what will you do?" I asked only half awake, but safely
way from her sharp poke in the ribs.
"I'll knock you..." Nancy threatened.
I know that she had started to say that she was going to knock me into next
week, one of her favorite threats. All would have ended well, if the wrong
thing hadn't happened at precisely the wrong time.
What happened? In my desire to go to sleep, I did something that I rarely
ever did, I interrupted her and finished her statement with a wise ass
remark.
"Knock me up? You ain't got the balls to achieve something like that." I
murmured nearly asleep.
I didn't see the look on her face when I made the smart remark. If I had, I
would have gotten out of bed and walked, no, make that run, the 5 miles to
the insurance office, exhaustion or not.
As it was, I'd forgotten my promise by the time I should have been going to
the insurance office.
I had a legitimate reason for forgetting, I was so busy going to the three
separate clothing manufacturer's Summer Clothing Shows scheduled for the day,
that even if I had remembered, I couldn't have found the time.
At least that was the reason I told Nancy that night when she asked me if I
had done what she had made me promise.
What actually happened was that I ran into the very girl that I'd had a crush
on in high school, Susan Wentworth.
Susan just happened to be trying to break into the designing business and had
a display in one of the shows.
She couldn't understand my natural embarrassment when I saw her. When I
explained that she had been the "model", or at least most of it, for my
"After Life" insurance policy, she looked startled and then smiled that sweet
impish smile of hers.
It was her turn to be embarrassed, she'd had no idea that she had made such
an impression on me. She just thought that I was some guy that never said
much and was kind of fun to be with once in a while. A friend, but nothing
more.
"Thank you for the very sweet compliment." She took my hands in her own and
gave me a smile that melted me to my bones. "That's the nicest thing that
anyone has ever done for me."
I reacted exactly like I had when we were in high school, I blushed and
couldn't think of a thing to say.
That is I couldn't until she gave me that kiss.
She had made an impression on me alright, one, like most "first loves", that
would last a life time.
--O--O--O--
Nancy didn't say anything when I admitted that I hadn't canceled the policy.
In fact she went on just as if nothing had happened. Except later that
night, she shoved a bunch of papers under my nose and asked me to sign them.
Since Nancy and I are partners in "Nancy's", I didn't think much about it. I
just signed where the "X's" were, as I usually did. I suppose that I should
have read them, but then again, if you can't trust your own wife, who can you
trust?
The next morning over breakfast, Nancy reminded me again to contact the
insurance company to cancel my policy. I had forgotten all about it and
promised to call them first thing after the meeting I had with a new dress
designer.
I wisely didn't tell her that I was going to meet with Susan. Besides, our
meeting was strictly business understand, nothing personal.
Nancy told me that she didn't want me to call, but go over to the offices and
cancel it in person. That started another of our little "discussions", with
me being on the losing end again. I promised that I would go there right
after my meeting.
My meeting with Susan was more than productive, it was very profitable for
both of us.
I'll never forget it when Susan modeled one of her sexiest sundresses for me.
Because of the way they were designed, it would be almost impossible for any
woman wearing them to wear a bra. In fact because of one of the special
design features, a bra wasn't necessary except for the largest of breasts.
Of course, Susan, sensing my interest in how the uniquely designed built in
bra worked, was more than happy to show me, first hand so to speak. I helped
her in and out of three of her dresses, before I realized that she had
forgotten her panties after the second dress.
When I mentioned it, rather discretely I thought, I found out that it hadn't
been quite "accidental" after all.
One thing lead to another, and before I knew it, I had purchased some
stunning sundresses for less than a third of what they were worth at
wholesale. Susan had been given her first break, a golden one at that.
I was almost ashamed to admit that I took advantage of our friendship to
swing the deal, but after all, business is business.
Right after the rather mutually satisfying meeting with Susan, I remembered
my promise to Nancy and rushed over to the insurance office.
To this day I'll swear that I looked both ways when I started to cross the
street, and have no idea where that truck came from. All I remember was the
screech of brakes and then nothing until I came to in the hospital bed.
Which brings us back to my lifting up the sheet to look at the rest of my
body.
The exam table was colder than the gurney had been. But that was the least
of my concerns as the nurse carefully adjusted the straps around my legs once
they had been draped over the stirrups located on one end of the table.
With a few cranks of a handle, my slim and shapely legs were spread wide and
high up out of the doctor's way. A few more twists of another handle and I
was in a semi sitting position, able to see the blank wall framed by my naked
legs. I while I didn't feel uncomfortable, I did felt totally helpless as
the nurse pulled yet another strap across my chest.
My appreciation for my wife's reluctance to see her own doctor deepened. If
this was what she had to go through all the time, I wanted no part of it.
The nurse, satisfied that I was secure, told me that the doctor would be
right in.
"...and try to relax, honey. It will be worth all the trouble, believe me."
She concluded as she pulled my hospital gown up to my waist and covered my
legs with a sheet.
After what seem like hours of staring at the huge unlit operating lamp above
my legs, I heard the door open behind me and the doctor and nurse returned,
wearing the standard green surgical gowns. They weren't wearing masks or
gloves so I knew that they were not going to perform surgery to look inside
of me and I relaxed as much as I could.
"Well, I see that we're already to begin." The doctor said as he move to a
spot between my legs and pulled back the sheet. He looked up at me, smiled,
then nodded to someone standing behind me. "I brought you a visitor."
"Hi, honey. How are you feeling?" My wife asked as she stepped into my line
of vision. She also was wearing a green gown.
"Hi sweetheart. What's a nice girl like you doing in a dump like this?" In
my semi drugged state, it was all I could think of saying.
"Obviously you feel alright." Nancy smiled at my question. "As to why I'm
here, I told the doctor that I wanted to be with the man I love to give
him..."
Nancy looked up sharply as the nurse giggled. She glanced between my spread
apart legs.
"Uh...HER, some moral support." Nancy corrected herself. "And despite your
stupid mistake at a trying to make a joke out of a very serious matter, I do
love you darling. Very much." She said gripping my hand tightly.
I had been half afraid that Nancy would reject me out of hand. After all, I
really wasn't the man I use to be. I must have spoken my thoughts out loud,
for Nancy answered my concerns.
"No, you're not." Nancy agreed. "But I think that once you get use to it,
you'll find being a girl isn't all that bad. In fact you may find it quite
fun, especial once you learn about what the only thing a man is good for is."
She chuckled lightly, and squeezed my hand. "And as good looking as you
designed yourself, that shouldn't too hard to do."
"Men?" I gasped.
I must admit that I'd never considered that aspect before. My mind raced
through all the things that Nancy and I had done in our short married life.
I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have something
like that done do me.
The doctor chose that very minute to begin his exam by inserting something
cold and hard into my vagina. I jumped as I felt it being pushed deep inside
of me.
I looked down at the doctor between my smooth and nearly hairless legs to see
what the hell he was doing. He looked up and smiled reassuringly, then
returned to work.
There was a brief moment of stretching, and I felt rather than heard a
"click" as some kind of reverse "clamp" was locked in the "open" position. I
realized then that he had inserted something to spread my warm and moist
vagina as wide open as it would go.
It was needless to say, a very odd, slightly painful and cold sensation. I
just hoped he hadn't broken anything down there, after all, technically I was
still a virgin.
"Mrs. Oberman? Would you care to see what a perfect vagina and uterus looks
like?" The doctor asked my wife. Nancy released my hand and moved down to
the foot of the table.
"Everything is alright, Doctor?" Nancy asked dubiously as she peered at the
gaping cavity between my legs. "I mean will he..., she..."
"Of course." He said somewhat indignantly. "We never make mistakes. In
fact, I was just beginning to do the procedure now." He reached over to a
small table and picked up a long transparent plastic tube with something
attached to one end.
I tried to lift my head to see what was going on as I felt the thin tube
being inserted deep inside of me. It seemed to go on forever. Finally it
stopped at a point that felt just below my throat.
"Ah, there we are, right on the money." He said, checking the placement of
the tube. He lift the other end of the flexible tube above the level of my
hips. I could see that a syringe the size of my thumb was attached to the
end he was holding up. He began to push the plunger home, when Nancy stopped
him.
"Please Doctor. I would like to do that if you don't mind."
He looked at me, then Nancy. Shrugging his shoulders, he silently handed the
syringe to her. I watched as she gently but firmly pushed the plunger down.
I followed the somewhat thick milky colored substance in its travel down the
long tube, until I could feel its warmth as it flowed from the end of the
tube inside of me.
It seemed somehow like some sort of magical and reverent moment had passed
when the plunger seated home. Everyone released their held in breath,
including me.
The doctor took the syringe from Nancy and replaced it with one containing a
clear liquid. This time he pushed the plunger down himself until the plastic
tube was nearly clear of the other fluid.
I had no idea what the hell had happened or why everyone, except me, looked
delighted.
1
From agate!howland.reston.ans.net!Germany.EU.net!zib-berlin.de!fub!sauveur!nienor!nienor!not-for-mail Tue Oct 3 10:41:18 1995
Path: agate!howland.reston.ans.net!Germany.EU.net!zib-berlin.de!fub!sauveur!nienor!nienor!not-for-mail
From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: TG: We Never Make Mistakes by Olivia Evans (2/2)
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Date: 2 Oct 1995 00:37:25 +0100
Organization: The Testsite
Lines: 485
Message-ID: <44n8nl$snb@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE>
X-Newsreader: NN version 6.5.0 #13 (NOV)
Xref: agate alt.sex.stories:103266 alt.sex.stories.tg:900
Hi.
This time I made a exception in posting this story. This story isn't
finished and I hope that by posting this part of mine someone or even
the author herself will post or mail the missing parts.
As ever I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
2 _We_Never_Make_Mistakes______________________________________by_Olivia_Evans_
After a brief moment of silence, everyone became business like. The doctor
removed the syringe and long tube and threw them in the trash. The Nurse
immediately cranked the end of the table up so that my hips were well above
my head.
I remained that way for about ten minutes while the doctor removed the
"clamp" from my vagina and the nurse cleaned up. When the "clamp" was
finally clear, my offended vagina quickly and quietly closed behind it. It
was an even odder sensation than when the thing had gone in, it was almost as
if my vagina was trying keep it in place by sucking backward on it.
Nancy stood by my side holding my hand and smiling down in silence until I
was returned to a more normal position.
I wanted to get up and walk, but the nurse would have no part of it, and I
rode a wheelchair back to my room.
In fact, the rest of the afternoon was rather anti-climatic. Nancy who had
gone on ahead to my room, was waiting for me with a small suit case of
clothing of women's clothing for my new body.
"I hope you like what I brought you." She said shyly. "The Insurance Company
gave me your measurements, so everything should fit."
"Thank you." I said to Nancy, giving her a little kiss on the cheek.
"You know," I said as I removed my hospital gown. "I've been buying women's
clothing, everything from saucy little Wedding Night "G" string outfits to
formal dresses for years, and this will be the first time I've actually worn
any of it."
Nancy smiled as she watched me pick up the first garment. "I know dear, but
now you'll have plenty of opportunity to try them all. After we get home and
you shave your legs and under arms, that is."
Nancy had taken great pains to find the most feminine things in the shop.
The bra, my bra now, was lacy, virgin white and nearly transparent, as were
the matching string bikini panties. It appeared that I was a 36 "C". If I
had honestly known that all this would have actually happened, I think that I
would have selected a smaller cup size, my breasts were heavier than I had
realized.
With a little help from my dear wife, I managed to get the bra properly
fitted. Despite all the thousands of dozens of bras I had bought I had no
idea that you had to bend over to position your breasts in the cups. Nancy
saved me a lot of time and trouble.
The panties presented no problem, after all, panties are just another form of
undershorts, except I had never worn anything as light and airy and as scanty
as the panties were. I could even see clearly the slightly darker outlines
of my blonde pubic hair. I knew, without looking, that the aureoles of my
breasts could be seen through the thin fabric of the bra too.
I had just pulled the straps of the bikini snug around my hips when I
realized that Nancy had been holding something else for me.
"What's this?" I asked as I took the offered item.
"It's a panty liner, dear. One of the things that you will learn about
having a woman's body is that all sorts of strange things happen to it."
Nodding that I understood, I replied evenly. "Like having periods?"
Nancy became strangely embarrassed. "Well yes, like having periods. But
don't worry about that, you'll have plenty of time to prepare for it. But
mainly because of other things too."
"Like what?" I asked curious, pulling the bikini panties down to mid thigh.
She sighed and giggled nervously. "Well, you'll see for yourself." I nodded
again, grateful that I wouldn't have face the hurdle to a period in the near
future.
I positioned the pad and pulled my panties back up, looking for some sort of
hosiery.
Nancy sensing what I was doing, rummaged through the small suitcase and
handed me a garter belt. It appeared that I was going to be introduced to
stockings. Nancy was almost apologetic as she explained why she had selected
them.
"I thought you would like feel a little sexy on your first day of your new
life."
She helped me to adjust the off black nylons and slide the beige slip over my
head. The undies may have been sexy but the rest of it was business like,
yet still feminine. The outer garments she had selected was consisted of a
dark gray wool "A" line skirt and business style jacket, with a snow white
silk blouse. Apparently I wasn't to be too sexy.
I slipped my feet into a pair of black three inch high heels and stood still
while Nancy inspected me. My feet, encased in the unaccustomed high heels
were already beginning feel pinched. I almost wished Nancy had brought a
pair of flats, although I knew that they would have looked out of place with
the rest of my outfit.
"Not bad." She said unbuttoning another button on my blouse and spreading it
open at the throat. The tops of my breasts were visible in the "V".
"I'm afraid were going to have to do something with your hair though."
"Could we just go home?" I asked, tiredly. "We can do all that later.
Please."
All of the events of the past few hours and the shock of finding myself in
the body of a woman, were beginning to catch up with me. Within seconds, I
found myself sitting on the edge of the bed crying my eyes out.
Nancy comforted me until I was cried out, and giving me a warm kiss, led the
way to our car. But the time we got to the car, I was ready to swear off
high heels for the rest of my life. How do girls manage to walk in those
things and not break an ankle?
The closer we got to home, the more apprehensive I became. What would happen
to me now? I would be a woman for the rest of my life. Despite my bravado
in the hospital, I wondered if I had the "balls" to do things women are
expected to do in life.
"Nancy, honey, I'm scared. What am I going to do? Other than you have to
sit to go to the bathroom, I don't know anything about being a woman."
She flashed a quick smile at me and returned to her driving.
"Don't worry, Mark honey." She glance at me again. "Mark? Speaking of that,
have you selected a name for yourself yet. We can't keep calling you 'Mark'
somehow it just doesn't fit that body. Anyway, don't worry, everything will
work out in the end. Just remember which restroom to use and everything else
will just kind of naturally flow into place."
I smiled at her unintentional pun. "What about work? I mean when I show up
looking like this..." I trailed off trying to imagine the reaction.
Nancy reached over and stroked my nylon clad leg. "Don't worry, honey,
everything will be alright, you'll see. Now then, I can't wait for you see
what I brought home for you to wear."
My old closet, once containing my suits and other male clothing, had been
cleaned out and re supplied with new women's clothing. It looked like Nancy
had cleaned out half of one of her stores. If I'd had any doubts about Nancy
wanting me to stay with her, this thoughtful touch ended them forever.
We spent the rest of the afternoon, trying on clothing. I had to admit that
wearing women's clothing, especial when you had a body built like mine, was a
lot more exciting than wearing men's clothing.
I also practiced wearing some of the dozens of high heels. I guess that its
just something you have to practice to get good at. Nancy must have wanted
me to get use to wearing them quickly, because high heeled shoes were all she
had brought home for me.
--O--O--O--
As with all living creatures, I eventually had to use my new "plumbing",
which until then hadn't been necessary. This may sound a little odd, but
ever since we had left the hospital, I had been looking forward to this very
minute.
Not only would it be a totally new experience in performing a familiar
function, but would allow me to do a little "exploring". I'll admit it,
vaginas, even the concept of a vagina, had always fascinated me when they
were inside of someone else. And now that I had one of my own...
It was while I was "exploring", that I found out why Nancy had insisted that
I wear a panty liner. When I pulled my panties down to go to the bathroom
later that afternoon, there was a large wet spot.
She had been right about not needing it for a period, it was the "other
things" that made it necessary. At first I thought that I may have peed in
my panties. On closer inspection however, it appeared that some of the milky
fluid from the syringe had drained out of me.
Hoping that its loss wouldn't hurt anything, I told Nancy about it. It was
reassuring when she told me that the loss of most of the substance was normal
and not to worry about it. "... besides the most important part is still
deep inside at the very end of your love cannel."
My curiosity aroused, I asked her what had been done to me and why she
thought the most important part still remained inside. It looked like almost
all of it had drained out.
She merely sighed, saying that it was done to "fulfill" me and save me from
some kind of "time clock" phobia that some women developed as they got older,
and not to worry about it, I would find out for myself all too soon. Further
pressing for an answer produced equally cryptic remarks.
Bewildered, I replaced the use panty liner with a fresh one and went in to
join Nancy in the living room. I knew that I still had a lot to learn about
a woman's body. It was too bad it didn't come with an "owner's manual".
Nancy was right about everything just "naturally flowing" into place. For
the first eight weeks everything appeared to be working fine. I was accepted
by my co-workers as Jennifer Johnston, Nancy new full partner. When Nancy
selected my new name she also made me her full partner, complete with a say
in how the stores were to be run.
I was also going to be in charge of a new division of "Nancy's", although
Nancy was rather mysterious about what kind of clothing it would carry. She
just kept repeating the maddening line "You know soon enough.", then she
would smile broadly and say no more.
Everything continued to be fine, until about the ninth week after my "death".
I was in the bathroom toweling myself off from my morning shower, thinking
about the appointments I had that day, when my stomach gave a little lurch.
I burped up the taste of my secret and inexplicable 2:00 AM snack of cottage
cheese and some cold French fried onion rings left over from dinner.
I grimaced at the taste, then I became violently ill. Nancy, who had just
stepped into the shower, was at my side in a flash, helping me clean up.
"I don't feel good." I said stating the obvious.
"Hum, there's a flu going around. Why don't you go back to bed and I'll call
the doctor." She suggested. She helped me into bed and then rushed off,
still naked, to use the telephone.
It felt good to crawl back to bed. I would have done it even if I hadn't
been sick, lately I had been feeling very tired and listless, almost
lethargic. I had almost dozed off when Nancy returned.
"I think that I've got a chest cold too." I complained as she woke me. "My
boobs are really tender. What did the doctor say?"
"He says it might be the flu, but feels that he needs to check you over just
in case. After all," She added much to my chagrin. "you aren't the man you
use to be. We have an appointment tomorrow. In the meantime, just stay in
bed."
--O--O--O--
Nancy's, and now my, doctor sat across from us, reading my medical file from
the Insurance Company. "You use to be a man?" He asked incredulously,
looking at the pictures in the folder, then back to me.
I was wearing a pair of tight jeans without pockets and a form fitting
t-shirt, with a pocket. The pocket was generously filled from the back by my
left breast. I may have been a man 9 weeks or so ago, but there was no
question as to what sex I was now.
"Yes, but me being a woman was all a mistake you understand, Doctor. I never
intended to..."
"Hush dear. The doctor isn't interested in all that." Nancy said squeezing
my arm. I shut up.
"Uh,...yes. Well, I uh." He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, not really
sure he knew what to say, although we all knew he wanted to ask how it felt.
He took a deep breath and released it. "I suppose that the best way to
proceed would be to treat you just like any other young woman. I need to ask
you some questions."
I listened intently as he began to run down a list of childhood illnesses.
My answers to them all was of course, no, I hadn't had that illness. Well,
to be more accurate Jennifer hadn't had them. She had never been sick in her
short life. His next question caused both Nancy and I to blush a little.
"Are you sexually active?"
"No." I said.
"Yes, we are." Nancy responded firmly. The doctor looked at us, blushed
himself, and went on to the next question.
"When was your last period?" His pen poised over a blank space.
"I've never had one." I answered truthfully.
The doctor's eyes shot in my direction and then dropped to looked in my
folder again. He found what he was looking for, nodded and closed it up.
"Well, that makes the rest of the questions, kind of immaterial. I think I
know what's wrong with you, but we need to take some tests. Then I'll know
for sure." He stood. "If you'll follow me."
"When will you know the results of the tests?" I asked as I pulled the zipper
on my jeans up. The exam hadn't been half as strange as the first I had gone
through, although there had been a lot of similarities.
He watched me slip my bare feet into my heels before answering. "Don't take
any aspirin and call me in the morning."
--O--O--O--
"Don't take any aspirin and call me in the morning."
The phrase ran through my mind all evening and into the sleepless night. The
doctor's question about my last period, had really sunk in by the time we had
arrived home.
A period.
Despite the fact that I had the body of a woman and was forced to do things
considered feminine by its structure and the hormones running through my
veins, I was still a male inside.
A male trapped in a woman's body. It sounded screwy but that is exactly what
I was.
I still thought and reacted like a man, except that my reactions were somehow
translated into female terms. Take other women for example. Whenever I saw
an attractive woman partially undress I would become aroused. I couldn't
help it, good looking women just flat turn me on. Which is a male reaction,
of course.
Only since I obviously couldn't have an erection, I'd end up with nipples as
hard as rocks and pumping out lubrication like mad. That was my body's
feminine response to my male mind.
"...and call me in the morning."
My female body on the other hand, was not to be out done, having started
producing copious amounts of lubrication, then suddenly be denied further
stimuli, would rebel. I would ache for hours afterward for the feel of a man
shaft deep inside of me.
Even though the almost nightly love making sessions Nancy and I had were very
satisfying, they didn't even begin to ease the "itch" I felt deep inside.
Nancy had once suggested that she try a dildo on me when I had mentioned it,
but I flatly rejected the suggestion. Nobody was going to stick anything
even remotely resembling a penis inside of me. At least not right away.
I made it a point of staying out of the women's dressing rooms as much as
possible, but even that wasn't too much of a help.
I knew deep down, what the only real, sure fire cure for my problem was going
to bed with a man. In that regard, being mentally still a male myself, I
wasn't too happy with that aspect of being a female.
On the other hand... On the other hand, I delighted in idea of being a
woman, and tried to be as feminine as I could. I found, as Nancy suggested
that I would, that it was easy to feminine and sexy, I just went along with
the "flow".
"...in the morning."
Nancy had been happy on the way home, happier than I had seen her since I had
died. No, that wasn't right, she always seemed to be happy with me or rather
the strange new person I had become.
This was a different type of happiness from that one. It was if a problem
that she had been facing was suddenly resolved.
"Nancy, would you mind telling me what is going on here? Why haven't I had a
period?" I asked naively. "Did the insurance company make a mistake when
they made my body or what?"
Nancy looked at me out of the corner of her eye. "No, I don't think that
they made a mistake when they 'grew' that body for you. If fact I think that
its perfect."
"Then what's wrong with me?" I asked. Half fearing the answer. Nancy just
smiled and watched her driving.
"...And call me in the morning."
Morning came and I became sick again. Nancy of course, was sympathetic.
"Honey you should stay in bed again today. I'll call Mary and have her
cancel all of your appointments again for today. Don't worry about a thing.
I'll even call the doctor for you. If it's something serious, I'll call and
let you know. Alright?"
I nodded and headed back to bed. Several hours later I felt fine and became
bored with staying in bed. I got up and dressed in a pair of snug fitting
denim shorts and an even snugger cotton tank top and of course, my ever
present heels.
Since I had some spare time, I wanted to do some work around the house,
nothing important, just things I had been putting off since my death. Like
replacing a couple of shelves in the garage.
I had to adjust the web belt on my leather carpenter's pouches. Until then I
hadn't realized how different my new body was from my old body. Obviously I
was a different sex, but there were other things too.
Like my waist measurements. Before I died, I was about 34 inches in the
waist, now I wasn't much more than 28 or 29" My hips had remained about the
same, 39 1/2" and I had lost a little in my chest measurements, including my
breasts, I just over 38", a loss of 2 inches, almost 4, if you consider just
the chest measurements.
I was, in women's clothing, about a size 13/14. Larger than some of the
women I knew, but since I was tall, I didn't look big. In fact I looked, if
I may say so without seeming vain, sexier than all get out.
The old shelving had been easier to rip out than I had expected and despite
the fact that I wasn't as strong as I had been, I was progressing quite well.
I was standing in the center of the garage wondering how I was going to
manage to hold the shelving up and nail it down at the same time when I
sensed someone standing behind me.
"Excuse me, I'm looking for Mark Oberman. Do you know where his is?" A
woman's voice asked from behind me.
I turned around and saw Susan Wentworth standing in the open door of the
garage. I hadn't seen or heard from her since the day of my death.
"Susan!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around her and giving her a little
kiss on the cheek. "How nice to see you. How have you been?"
"Do I know you?" She asked pulling away from my grasp.
"Of course you do." I giggled. "That is you use to know me, before I, uh...
started wearing bras and panties."
Her eyes got big as she looked at me from head to toe. I knew that she must
have thought that I was crazy.
"Uh, this may sound like a stupid question. But are you Mark Oberman?" She
asked hesitantly. It was more of a statement than a question.
"In the flesh!" I said. "Although there's a little more 'flesh' to me now
than there use to be."
She stepped back and looked at me again. "I should say so. Turn around, I
want to see everything."
I did as she asked. I was half way around when she let out a long slow
whistle. "What's the matter?" I asked completing my turn.
"I normally don't pay much attention to other women's figures, but you've got
to have the sexiest looking ass I've ever seen."
"What do you think of the rest of it?" I asked cupping my breasts with both
hands. "After all, I designed it with you in mind."
Susan motioned me to turn around again. I did expecting to see her smiling
again when I face her. There was a slight frown on her face instead.
"Mark... what do you call yourself now anyway?"
"Jennifer, Jenny for short." I replied.
Susan took a deep breath before continuing. "Jenny, let's go find some place
to talk. I want to know more about this 'after life insurance' thing."
"Sure how about going inside? We can have some coffee cake and chat for a
while."
Susan looked at the house and frowned. "I don't think so. I'd like to go
somewhere... with a little more privacy."
"Hum, I know a donut shop over on third that's usually empty this time of the
morning. How about that?" I offered.
"That's fine."
"Okay, let me change and then we'll go."
"I'll wait in my car for you. But hurry up." Susan had already noticed that
both of our cars were gone from the garage. Nancy had taken mine to work,
while her's was in for repairs.
Ten minutes later, we were heading toward the donut shop. I was wearing one
of Susan's sundresses exactly the way it was intended to be worn, without a
bra. Of course, Susan seemed pleased.
"Is that one of the dresses I gave you as a sample?" She asked.
I nodded.
"Looks good on you."
"Thank you. It's very comfortable. I just love it."