ANGGELA

A – A LOV
VE STOR
RY – PAR
RT 1

BY
VI CKIE TERN
 1

Angela
(A Love Story)

By
Vickie Tern

The Story So Far:

Having willingly demoted himself from husband to subordinate to help Angela with her “Issues”,
Jesse has allowed his wife to relegate him to a position as her personal manservant before
promoting him to the status of “Girlfriend”. But now, ball firmly in her control, she intends to run
with it to the end zone and when she touches down, Jesse’s old life will be gone forever…

PART THREE

The next day was a Friday, a dress-down day. Before I left the house Angie made me empty my
pockets into an old purse of hers.

"After next week no more pockets," she pointed out. "You need practice looking after your
valuables, figuring where to stow your purse and so on, and never going anywhere without it.
Never ever. This one's got a shoulder strap, so it won't look too odd-- if the large brass clasp
embarrasses you, turn it toward you. But I expect to see it out and proud like the decoration it is by
next weekend. Be glad clutch bags aren't in fashion at the moment. We'll have to get you a few to
match your outfits."

When I got to the office Nicole's eyes dropped down to the purse hanging at my waist, then up at
my face, but she said nothing.

Neither did the girls at lunch -- as they did, I put mine on the floor next to my chair. We were all
feeling casual and relaxed, and they were frankly delighted when I issued them Angie's invitation to
drinks the next Saturday. I'd been cautioned not to hint that this was my 'coming out' party, an
acknowledgement to them that I'd now finally become in fact what they'd been witnessing all
along. "Angie wants to get to know you all finally, the way I know you," I told them. "And for
you to get to know me at home. So my ... odd behavior lately won't seem so strange."

"Wonderful," Maureen said. "We can ask her how she feels about it, your odd behavior. Whether
she misses being married to a man."

"Oh, Maureen, that's cruel," Nicole commented. "Jesse's been wonderful about pleasing his wife
all this time, he doesn't deserve insults. I must say though, I've been curious about that myself.
I've thought of calling her to ask what's going on. I almost did when he took to wearing 'Ecstasy' to
work, I mean, after all. But he's told us all that this is what she wants, and he's told us that he wants
what she wants, and I think that's just wonderful, and that makes it something between the two of
them and none of our business." She was chiding Maureen, telling her to behave.
 2

Maureen persisted. "It's just that if she's looking for someone more manly these days, I know this
great guy, he's just broken up with his girlfriend and he's available, and ...."

Brynne broke in. "Maureen, behave! I'm sure that if Jesse's wife wanted someone else she'd find
someone else without your help. She may have done that already. Maybe all this with our friend
Jesse has been to put him way out of the running, so she doesn't feel guilty cheating on him, or
maybe it's so her new men don't feel threatened. He may already be a pussy-whipped cuckold, and
maybe he already knows it and maybe he doesn't. Maybe he even likes the idea?"

They all looked at me, expecting a reply. I just looked back at them.

Another of the women added with wide, innocent eyes, "But maybe he isn't a cuckold. Maybe it's
Jesse who'd benefit most from meeting up with this 'great guy' of yours. I mean, maybe Maureen's
right. Think about it, he is growing tits to attract men, after all."

"No, I'm not," I blurted out.

"Honey," Allison said. "We all know what tits look like. You bulge in just the right places. I bet
all the right places -- how's your ass coming along?"

I suddenly recalled how Angie had been cushioning her belly on my rear with each last squirm of
her dildo into me. Was it growing more plump too? Maybe. "It's fine," I said. "I mean, I'm not
growing tits to attract men. I'm not interested in men."

"Then you are growing tits. See, girls, it's confirmed!"

"Oh, leave him alone," Nicole said, coming to my rescue. "Anything going on between Jesse and
his wife is between them."

They were teasing, but that speculation about Angela and other men did put a whole new color on
the conversation. Two of the women around our table glanced at me sympathetically, and another
smirked. Had Angela done this to me to ease her own affairs with other men? Or was I gay, and
my obvious effeminacy had driven Angela into the arms of more manly man? Was their luncheon
companion already a feminized cuckold, a wimp sissy married to an unfaithful wife?

After a moment I recovered in my own mind what had to be the truth. The reverse was the problem.
Angela didn't want a more manly man, no one like her father, and as I had learned at cost, a less
manly man was even less acceptable. But I couldn't tell any of them that.

"Our relationship has never been better," I said. "We're ... passionately devoted to each other.
More than ever."

Maureen shrugged. "To each her own. Ah, the check. My turn to figure it. Now, who had the
shrimp salad?"

That was the first time my ... I guess call it my odd behavior had arisen as an explicit topic among
the girls, and that afternoon I thought about it. It had certainly been noticed and talked about,
though no one had mentioned it to me before this.
 3

People do usually assume that an effeminate man is a gay man. I'd never really been pals with any
of the men at work, but I now realized that none of my male co-workers had been stopping by to
chat for some time, not for months. Obviously my lilting voice and feminine mannerisms, the very
perfume that reassured my female co-workers, that made me acceptable as one of them, had made
me unacceptable to the other men in the office. It made them nervous. I suppose it would have
made me nervous, if I weren't me.

Though not my boss. For months he'd carefully refrained from personal comments of any kind
whenever I brought him figures and analyses and projections. He was scrupulously all business
whenever I was with him, always grateful for the probity and accuracy of my predictions and
profuse in his praise. I suppose I was so valuable to him that if I were to turn up in his office in
a mini-skirt with naked boobs hanging off my chest like headlamps, lipstick laid on with a trowel,
he'd still choose not to notice.

That was reassuring, whatever else lay ahead for me.

I told Angie about all this early that evening, the conversation at lunch and my thoughts afterward.

She was concerned.

"Do you think I'm taking up with other men?" she asked me first of all.

"No, I don't," I said categorically. "For good and sufficient reasons we both know about only all
too well."

"Good!" she said. "Keep thinking that."

Now what did that mean?

"But speaking of men, why do you think other men no longer stop to talk to you? You aren't
attractive enough?" She grinned at her little joke. I couldn't join her. Soon it would be no joke.
But she waited. She wanted a serious answer.

"They see me mincing about and flapping my hands and squealing to the secretaries, and they sniff
me, and they think I'm a faggot. It makes them uneasy, they worry that I'll come on to them.
Except maybe Danny Ralston in Sales, who is a faggot -- a "queer" he calls himself -- and
unattached. He might come on to me if he found me attractive and thought I was available."

"Would you want him to? You are queer in your own way, you know. I mean, look how you've
taken to Bob. Look how you enjoy getting fucked by me!"

"Angie, I like a lot of what you like. You've taught me how wonderful it can be to ... feel full. I
love these ... pussy plugs, and fucking and being fucked both at once, and the things you do to me
with your strap-on. But I can't imagine doing those things with a man, or wanting a man to do them
to me. I love women. I do all those things for you."

"And for you too. Isn't that true?" She smiled, but her eyes were serious. She expected honest
answers.
 4

The plug was pushing against the walls of my pussy at that very moment. My asshole, I mean. I
knew well how glorious, how superb the sensations when the prick on Angela's strap on was
slipping in and out of me. How I felt when I was so crammed I couldn't even grunt. She wanted
that for me, and I wanted it.

"Yes," I told her. And wiggling my bottom just a bit in anticipation of the next time, I added, "I do
love it. I adore it." She smiled again, this time appreciatively. "But not as a gay man would love
it. As a woman would love it. I think."

She looked at me warmly, appreciatively, lovingly. "Women don't love it when men do that to
them?" I couldn't answer that. "I'll never want to deprive you, you know." Now what did that
mean? I should feel free to go gay if I'm ever inclined?

Abruptly she changed the subject. "You'll wear heels at home from now on to strengthen your
ankles, that's no problem. But we'd better get started with your make-up, honey. We have only a
week to make you both pretty and completely self-sustaining as an attractive woman -- I won't have
time to do your face and hair and so on each morning after next week. I mean, I spent months
when I was a teenager trying for the right look, distinctive, not ordinary but not too sexy either. It's
occurred to me that when you're no longer anything resembling a man, when instead you're my
girlfriend in every way, all my problems with you will be solved and we really will be able to live
happily ever after. Will you mind?"

She smiled at me mysteriously.

"Becoming your girlfriend in every way?" I asked her. "Does it really matter?" So this was what
she preferred? She didn't want a husband but a companion. A girlfriend. Well, I still wanted her.
Yet I felt more and more helpless admitting it, because I wasn't altogether ready to pay the price. I
was still hoping to find a way to be everything she wanted and yet retain something of what I was.

"Yes. You know it does."

Did I have a choice? I'd already gone this far. So I said, simply, "Angie, I want to be your
girlfriend in every way and live happily ever after with you."

"Because you love me?"

"Yes. With all my heart. That's why." That was true. That was why.

Tears came to her eyes, and she made no effort to wipe them away.

"Oh, my darling, I knew it the moment I first laid eyes on you, you are so right for me! You can't
imagine how I feel now. I'll make sure you never regret it. That you'll love everything about it the
way I do. I know that this is costing you a lot, in some ways everything. But I'll see to it that there
are compensations.

All kinds! Have you been up to our bedroom yet?"

"No.

"Come look."
 5

We went up together, hand in hand. I saw that while I was at work, Angela had been doing some
furniture moving. Our bureau drawers had been each on opposite sides of the bed, so we could
each dress without getting in each other's way. Now they were lined up side by side, his and hers
as it were, except that they were now hers and hers -- mates, both low and long -- my original
bureau, Angela explained, had now joined the once-pissed mattress in our spare room. And on the
other side of the bed, facing the wall, were two rather elaborate vanities, make-up tables with small
drawers and benches and mirrors, also side by side. To judge by the powders and pomades and
lotions and arrays of lipsticks and eye shadows and pencils and liners on each, also hers and hers.

I stared at them. My life from now on. Angela made it clear.

"Sit," she said, and set me an example by sitting down at her vanity table. Uneasily, I did the same
thing. "Lesson One," she said. "For now, and until we can get you professionally done all out for
our cocktail and dinner parties."

Oh? I thought. But I said nothing.

"Just eyes and lips now. There's a lot more to it than that, even to those two things. But a girl's
eyes are the most attractive part of her face, the most fascinating because the most expressive and
mysterious, and her lips are the most promising part. So we attend to them both above all and
always. We can ignore our brows and complexions and earrings and necklaces and bric a brac, but
we never leave the house without wearing at least our eye and lip makeup. From now on, except to
go to work you are never to leave even this room without it. And after next Saturday, never. That's
how I always want to see you."

"Even though we're married?" I asked, trying to make a joke of it, to seem detached. I was
reluctant to enter this whole realm, though I knew there was no way to escape it. "Even though we
no longer need to worry about looking attractive for each other?"

"Then especially" came back at me quickly. "For a woman, keeping a spouse fascinated can be as
important as attracting other lovers to make up for the spouse's deficiencies." She stared at me. No
more jokes. I dropped my head in surrender and decided to leave off the ironies for the rest of the
lesson.

"You'll wear some make-up at home from now on, always, and practice daily until a swish and a
dab are all it requires. Also, so when you're wearing nothing you'll seem to yourself barefaced,
under-dressed, plain naked. So you'll begin to think of your face without make-up as a little
indecent, maybe even an offense to others. I've been imagining a big little girl look for your eyes
for now. That means bold outlines shading into a smoldering pale fawn shadow above for a wide
open look, and then slather on the black mascara. Three coats at least, you'll want really dramatic
lashes. In between, while you're waiting for your eyelashes to dry you can do your lips. Every
morning. And always begin with this lip plumper before anything else. Spread it on with the tip of
your pinkie."

"Lip plumper?" I asked.

 6

"It's new. I haven't used it myself yet, but I understand it works like collagen injections. It gives us
big, soft, pillowy lips that call attention to themselves even before we put on our lipstick. We need
to do that especially this year because reds aren't fashionable, just pale shades, pinks and beiges.
Put it on and leave it on for ten minutes until your lips puff up like Angelina Jolie's. Then use a lip
pencil to outline them, and lipstick in the same shade, then a coat of clear gloss for shine and
protection, and there you are. Here, let me show you."

She dipped her little finger into a small pot of pale cream of some sort, rubbed it on her upper and
lower lips, then dipped again and reached over and rubbed it on mine. I felt a slight tingling.

"Don't lick it," she said.

I didn't. I could feel a faint swelling. She looked bemused as she felt her own lips beginning to
puff up into a pout, and saw mine do the same.

"Why should we want this?" I asked, my lips vaguely slapping against each other. "Why are plump
lips better than ordinary lips?"

"How can you ask such a question, Pussygirl? You know the answer to that better than I do! Ask
Bob."

I realized what she meant.

"Besides, when a man sees a woman pout he feels at a disadvantage, challenged to cheer her up, to
do things for her. Don't you want to have men at your feet, eager to please you?"

"No," I said. "I'm not interested in men. I've told you that. I'm not gay."

"All women are interested in men, whether they take them to bed and tuck them in or not. It goes
with being a woman. We practice our arts of attraction and seduction because that's what women
do. We interest men in us for fun, but always also to earn other women's respect, because we're
doing well what women do. It's empowering to reduce a man to a worshipful silence -- it improves
our status among our friends. You'll see."

I hadn't thought of it that way. But why else does Angela dress as she does, since she's faithful to
me? 'If she's faithful' crossed my mind again and I dismissed it.

"I'm sure you won't want to shame me, nor yourself -- we women set high standards for each other
and we maintain them. I suppose the same way men do with each other and their manhood. But
you're out of that now, have been for a long time, thank goodness. Here, watch me now and then
try it yourself."

I did. Three or four times, grazing my eyeball with a soft eye liner pencil once or twice but finally
getting it. Then accidentally touching mascara to my cheek -- the bother of cleaning it off made me
resolve never to be careless with my mascara again in the future. And that in turn reminded me that
from now on I had no future without mascara. Or without any of the rest of this. I became
absorbed in making up my eyes and lips, then creaming everything off and making them up again.
Then again.

"Well, aren't we beautiful?" I heard Angela say behind me.

 7

Wide-eyed, my mouth hanging a bit open, I was brushing on a third coat of mascara yet again, and
pausing meanwhile to admire my pink, puffed, glossy lips -- they somehow called attention to
themselves despite me, begging to be used in some way. I have to confess, my face had begun to
look not just attractive but alluring. I felt quite proud and wanted to keep going.

"Aren't you pleased?"

"Yes," I said, a little breathless from my concentrated exertions. "Who knew I could look like this?"

"I did. Enough for now, sweetheart. I'm very pleased. I knew you had a talent for this sort of
thing. Now, usually you'll remove all your daytime make-up when you get to your evening
moisturizing ritual, but I must confess, this first time tonight I can't wait to see your dark, smoky,
seductive, little-girl eyes staring up at me as you suck on my cock and then I fuck you and then you
suck my cunt. Oooh, the thought makes me so wet! Come, do get naked and take out that pussy
plug and tend me on your knees, honey. Now!"

I turned. There she was, her own face especially heavily made up, dominating the room with her
assured beauty, hands on hips and hips thrust far forward, staring me down, the big cock of her
double-ended dildo aimed straight at me. The big one -- could I handle it? I could! My clothes
flew off and I fell to my knees and wrapped my fat lips around its head, just barely. As I pulled and
sucked on that prick, I anticipated the marvelous moment soon when I'd be enclosing and pulling
and sucking on it with my asshole while Angie drove it deeper into me. Then I'd fill my ass with
Bob while Angela filled her cunt with me. Then I'd fill my belly with cum, hers and mine.

Could life get any better than this? I wanted it! All of it! It was worth anything!

I sucked and slid and sucked on her cock, until with a stifled shriek, Angela stiffened and came, her
eyes closed, and then nearly collapsed on me. I stood up, and we led each other toward the bed, my
bottom eager, yearning to accommodate her salivating dildo. I lay back. Yes! Whatever my
darling Angela wanted me for me, that is what I wanted too now! Anything! I felt so very
beautiful! My pink, delectable lips pursed and kissed the air as Angie thrust that thing into me.

Again and again.

The same thing each night all through the next week. I felt rhapsodic!

******

At work, no apparent change. On Tuesday I was able to inform my boss that a new inventory
regimen I'd recommended had cut our tax liability for that sector of the business in half, and he was
overjoyed. So much so that when I asked him for the coming Friday off for "personal reasons" he
immediately agreed. Then suddenly got worried. "You aren't planning to change jobs, are you?
You don't mean to use your free time on Friday to interview for anyone else?"

"No, I wouldn't do that. Not change jobs." I decided I had to give him a hint. "It's ... something
Angie and I have arranged."
 8

"Oh yes, that marvelous wife of yours. Mmmm. That's good. Jesse I have to say this, and please
don't think I'm interfering in anything personal. I've noticed that something's happening in your life
lately, a kind of transition, we've all noticed, and there's nothing wrong with that. But I have some
advice, and I may be speaking out of turn. But may I?"

"Of course," I said quietly, with a little less lilt than usual. Here it comes, I was thinking. I'm going
to have to choose between my wife's desires and maintaining the proprieties of this job. Shape up as
a man or ship out. What else can he mean?

He leaned forward over his desk and spoke earnestly.

"Jesse, I wish you well and I want to ... well, I have to tell you. Your life here is going to change.
First of all, next Monday you'll find a bonus check sitting on your desk waiting for you, a reward
for all of your good work during this past year, this latest tax thing being only one more of same.
But more important, mid-morning you're going to get a call from upstairs."

"Upstairs?" The top two floors of the building were occupied by top management, the President
and the CEO and a few of the Vice Presidents and their cohorts and crew.

"They're well aware of your work, they've been getting reports from me for some time, and ... well,
they want to offer you a promotion. To appoint you the firm's Comptroller. Our Chief Financial
Officer. It's much more work and responsibility, but you'll have a staff to help, and I'll miss your
advice. But upstairs they'll likely make better use of you."

I was overwhelmed.

"But there's a problem ...."

I waited. Here it comes.

"Jesse ... well, I'll be blunt. They think you're a woman. You remember all those takeover bid
analyses you ran a few weeks ago, all the phone calls you were getting about them?"

"Yes." They'd given me the records of two different companies and I'd mastered them and at their
request had run some rather elaborate profitability estimates on each. Then for a few days I'd
fielded a variety of phone calls from different people upstairs asking me about this and that,
whatever seemed to affect their work. Fairly routine for me but I suppose not for them. I'd been
patient and explained everything carefully to everyone who'd called.

"They got the impression from your voice that you're a woman. They think they're promoting a
woman. That you'll be the first woman in the firm to break the glass ceiling. I hear that some of
their wives are planning to celebrate your appointment, to welcome you into their committees and
clubs, and invite you to tea parties, and do whatever else with you that women do with each other."

Uh oh. That had never occurred to me. I'd used my high, lilting voice, of course. And probably a
lot of the feminine phrases I'd been picking up. I suppose without thinking.
 9

"So ... if that's where you're headed, and it does seem so, may I suggest ... when they see you ...
Jesse, I think this weekend will be a good time for you to decide what you're doing and do it. Either
go back to being a man or go the rest of the way and be a woman. Be one or the other Because the
way you are now will cause a certain amount of ... unnecessary confusion. A loss of confidence in
your ... decisiveness."

"I imagine it would." It even confuses me, I was thinking ruefully.

"It's your choice. But that's my advice. If you're going to be our company's Chief Financial
Officer, you'll have to look more ... reassuringly conventional."

"I guess so," I said. I knew that what he said was true.

"Congratulations, by the way!" he said. He half-stood and offered me his hand. I shook it. When
he sat down, his attention returned entirely to the papers on his desk. I left.

I didn't know if this was good or bad news. Certainly fortuitous. I'd expected to come in on
Monday fully dressed and made up as a woman -- that was Angela's plan, and that was what
everyone would be expecting after my 'coming out' on Saturday. And I'd expected to live out the
year as a woman, at least until Angela was cured.

Then maybe ... ease back gradually to ... maybe my present androgyny. Maybe finally arrive back
at what I'd been?

But now there was no escaping it. Plainly, my whole immediate future was to be a woman full
time at home and at work, and nothing but. As if born and bred one. The very weekend Angela
had chosen for my coming out was the very weekend a promotion was forcing it on me.

As I settled back at my desk I considered my options. There were none. Oddly, I didn't mind, not
as much as I thought I should.

There were worse things, and this ... femininity did have its compensations. Most of all, it secured
me Angela's respect and affection -- she could manage with me no other way. And it was different,
absorbing in its novelty. I was starting to get good at putting on the minimal make-up she'd taught
me, and I liked how I looked in it. My bra now held up two small titties, and I liked them. I'd even
begun to wonder what it would be like to wear clothes that showed my figure instead of hiding it,
the way women do. I did have a lovely rounded rear end -- I'd checked after Allison had asked
about it -- and other curves too. I'd wondered how I could hint to the world that I had them. Not by
wearing men's pants.

And choosing and matching Angela's outfits had become a delightful game -- what would it be like
to choose my own? I suddenly realized that as a company officer I'd need to acquire a wardrobe as
elegant as Angela's, and for some reason I found that exciting -- was I beginning to take a woman's
pleasure in my appearance?

Shopping for men's clothes had always been a chore for me, but shopping for women's could be a
delight. Women love to shop for good reason. It's a way to celebrate themselves.

So this weekend would end my life as an effeminate male. When I told Angela the news that night,
she came around and impulsively hugged and kissed me.
 10

"Marvelous!" was all she could say. "Just marvelous!"

Then a wicked gleam came into her eye. "What do you think -- should we two top women
executives hire an upstairs maid to dress both of us?"

I smiled back, uncertain whether she was serious.

"Someone who'll kiss both our pussies when she helps us with our pantyhose, the way you kiss
mine?" Now she was grinning broadly.

"Or when he helps us with our pantyhose?"

That made me uncomfortable, and Angela immediately stopped teasing.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she continued. "Your firm will have every reason to be as proud of their
new Comptroller as I am. You'll look gorgeous. I'll even teach you all I know about the little
deceptions, the power moves we women need to make men do things for us."

She looked at me. She was proud of my accomplishment, and how it was being rewarded, but also
proud of herself. Of her accomplishment with me. For good reason, I guess.

For the first time I realized something. This had started with me trying to change Angela, to build
up her self-confidence. Now she was offering to help me build up mine. She had changed me
utterly.

******

Now and then during the rest of that week I fixed appetizers and canapes for our cocktail party so
they'd be ready for the oven, and I laid in supplies for the dinner afterward for Angela's friends.

Then came Friday, the day Angela had reserved for me to prepare myself.

It was spent at the "Beauty Boutique," the upscale all-service salon Angela went to periodically for
hair and nail maintenance.

"Just your jogging sweats, honey," she'd told me when I woke and realized that this was my last
day as a man.

As a sort of man.

"They'll strip you to your bare skin and go from there. By mid-afternoon even I won't be able to
recognize my beautiful new girlfriend. You'll see."

"Angie," I'd replied. "I'm not sure that ...."

"Is our new Comptroller having second thoughts? Do you mean to tell them on Monday that you're
a man but neither here nor there?"
 11

How did I lose myself in this, how did I become neither here nor there?

She was right. So we went. When I walked through the discreetly solid yellow door I found
myself in woman country.

There was no question of that, it was scented and colored in pastels, lounges in front, a corridor
leading in back to a warren of small rooms lined with mirrors and shelves of bottles and equipment,
each room with comfortable padded chair and a quiet, attentive young woman in uniform. And
others coming and going, ministering and moving on. The receptionist looked like a candy dish
porcelain doll. Angie gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and told her, "Take good care of her," and
disappeared down a hall.

'Her'? I suppose I was now. What else was I here for?

"So, Jessica, I'll be overseeing everything today." came a voice behind me. I turned. A short, cute,
capable looking woman maybe in her early thirties, wearing a pale lavender uniform. Smiling
reassuringly, assuming correctly that I was not too sure about this. "Suppose we strip and see what
it is we're working with.

All the way, honey -- no shyness, from now on feel proud of your body whenever you're with other
women. Or with the right man. Even if ya haven't got it, flaunt it! I'm Carrie, by the way."

I looked directly at Carrie and tried to assume control over this situation, and saw only amused
determination as she looked steadily back at me. Finally I looked away. "Not 'Jessica'," I said.
"Just 'Jesse.'"

"'Jessie,' then," she repeated. "Lovely. Just leave yourself in our hands and I promise you, Jessie,
today you'll have the most memorable experience of your life. That's it. Off with your panties too.
And bra. Oh, my, look, your breasts are coming along so beautifully -- they'll soon be ready for
nursing, if that's what Angela has in mind for you. With the right additional hormones, that is.
What a wonderful husband you must be, agreeing to take on something like that for your career
woman wife! Don't you think so?"

"She hasn't said that's what they're for," was all I could say. "And I'm a career woman too." That
sounded peculiar. Finally I added rather weakly, "We aren't planning to have children just yet.
These are for ... my general appearance."

"All in good time, I'm sure. No woman ever feels fully complete until she's a mother. You'll love
it, I have two. I'm afraid though that we'll have to remove your hormone patches for your session
today. No more of those. Later this morning our dermatologist Dr. Angstrom will be in. Now that
you're committed to ... join us you'll be getting your hormones by injection from her from now on.
Much more effective. She can renew your dosage every other week when you and Angela come in
for your regular nail and hair appointments."

"I guess," I replied. But I hadn't guessed, not at all! Injections? What would they do?

"I hear you're being promoted, Jessie. Congratulations! All the more reason we'll be seeing you as
often as we see Angela. Top women executives have to look stunning always, they're more
effective that way, and that paves the way for the rest of us. It's your duty as a woman!"
 12

Now I stood there bare naked and she was looking directly at my genitals. "Well," she said, as if
disappointed but resigned.

"Angela told us to leave those things as they are. Your add-ons. I'm sure she won't mind our
removing all that hair around them though. It'll be so much more comfortable for both of you
afterward. If you can't look like a woman down there at least you can look like a little boy. That's
the next best thing."

She handed me a short, salmon-colored silk robe. "Follow me, honey," she said. "Leave your
clothes just where they are." And she stepped out into the hall.

And into another room, all marble, with a sunken bathtub already filled. "Here you are," Carrie
said. "Warm oil, rose-scented. Step in and sink down and soak yourself. It works wonders. Some
of our women call it our deep fat fryer."

She seemed amused by her joke.

I wasn't.

"I know you've been using different skin softeners, but after this treatment no man will be able to
touch your skin anywhere without falling into a trance and trying to feel you up everywhere at
once. It has an extraordinary effect on them. Has that happened to you yet?"

"No." I stepped in and sank down into the warm oil. What a delicious sensation! I was half
floating in it, suspended into the most luxurious, coziest lubrication. Snug and warm and
weightless!

Incredible!

"It hasn't? You poor dear girl. It will. Trust me on that. No man will be able to keep his hands off
you after this. I'll be back in about a half-hour, but if I'm not don't simmer much longer than that.
There are other things besides emollients in there. Herbal tranquillizers, and a special hormone
we've found that does a girl's skin and figure a marvelous world of good. Angela might not like it
if her girlfriend turns out to be prettier than she is, but we all take our chances."

Carrie gave a short laugh. "You know, you just might!"

And then she was gone.

I had no watch, and time passed. There was soothing music. I dozed.

When I woke up I found I was no longer soaking in oil but lying in a chair and tilted way back.
Wearing the same silk robe again. My eyes fluttered open and I saw the ceiling. I was in another
room altogether! What had happened to my oil bath?

"Ahh, she's back with us," Carrie said to someone.

"Just as well," another girl's voice said. "I'm about done here. Three coats, toes and fingers, rose
mauve as ordered. And it's obvious that Ann's already done the waxing, and her eyebrows and ear
lobes, all the painful parts.
 13

“She should feel grateful I suppose that it all happened while she was out."

"Yes, that was the plan," Carrie's voice replied. "Her oil bath did soften her follicles, but even so a
first depilation is always traumatic. Some women want their husbands to feel real pain when we do
this to them, but Jessie here has a loving wife who wanted us to put her all the way out for the
worst of it. She wants this passage to be as pleasant for her as possible. It's nicer for us when
they're conscious, when we have someone to chat with while we work on them -- the hours go by
much faster. But conversions go faster when our new girls don't know what we're doing to them."

"Well," said the girl apparently doing my nails. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to chat with
Jessie from now on, with that high-maintenance do you gave her. She'll practically be living here."

"Only every other week. Her hairdo is by Angela's orders. Women executives need to intimidate
people with their femininity at first sight, she says, so they'll make less trouble and do what they're
told. That's why she specified no permanent make-up, even though we always use it on
conversions. It's easier to maintain for a girl who hasn't been raised as a girl and isn't accustomed
to cosmetics. And it's helpful for reconciling husbands to the fact that they're women and better
learn to behave as women, they have no choice. Most men give up without a struggle when they
see they've been tattooed. What else can they do, once they've got black eye liner and red lips that
can't ever wash off?"

"So why not permanent make-up here too?"

"Angela's been bringing Jessie along in reverse order. First give her all sorts of feminine traits,
make her seem to want to be feminine and get her accustomed to everyone's responses, and commit
her only when she's got no way out. Jessie needs to be a woman now, not for all the right reasons,
but for enough of them. But she doesn't really want it, not yet. So Angela wants Jessie to reassure
herself as often as possible, to enact little female scenarios all day every day, so she'll know who
she is and what she's doing to herself, and that she's doing it to herself and digging herself in deeper
and deeper. Like putting on makeup every morning when she goes to the office and every evening
when she goes out, deliberately making herself beautiful, and strategically refreshing her face at the
office maybe refresh her lipstick now and then. Putting on her lipstick while delaying a decision
and thinking things through. Saying something decisive with a snap of her compact, then firmly
tucking it back into her purse, and that's that. No mere man can ever answer back to that, nor to
any woman who knows decisively that she's a woman."

I turned my head and looked at Carrie. My throat groaned.

"Hi, sweetie, you're really awake now, aren't you. Let me set you up so you can see yourself.
We're just about done."

"How long have I been out?" I asked, still groggy.

"All morning, into early afternoon, just about. We've been having such a good time with you.
Look!"
 14

She pushed some kind of button and with a whining sound my chair came erect. I stared straight
ahead at a gorgeous woman in a salmon colored short wrapper, her hair streaky blonde as if from
outdoor sports at some expensive beach resort and swirled up elegantly high on her head.

Her lips puffed, colored a fetching deep rose and cheeks faintly flushed over a perfect complexion,
with two small gold hoops dangling from each ear, she stared back at me directly, with an almost
haughty frown, yet her eyes sparkled as if mirthful. I looked away. Then back. She was still
looking at me with the same superior expression. Then I noticed that a salon girl was sitting with
her back toward me and holding her hand, apparently looking into her face. I looked down at my
actual hand, rose tipped, and saw an actual salon girl actually holding my beautifully manicured
hand, looking at my face with a certain curiosity. I looked back at myself in the mirror.

"Yes, Jessie, that's you," Carrie said. "From now on. All that's left is to show you a few tricks to
use with foundation and when you do your eyes mornings -- Angie tells me you're quite expert with
the basics -- and then we'll turn you loose on the world."

I was still astonished. I stared at the apparition in the mirror. Me. She stared back at me -
intimidating. Provocatively. My God, I was starting an erection! She couldn't have looked more
proper, more unapproachable, yet more desirably seductive.

"Are those my breasts?" I asked, in order to say something. "They look larger."

"They are. The hormones in the oil bath usually swells them up some, that's what they're for. So
you now have a cleft. Dr. Angstrom was impressed when she looked you over a while ago and
gave you your first injection."

They were so large they hung down slightly. The nipples looked larger too.

"I see how you're pleased with them," Carrie said. She was looking at my crotch, and said dryly,
"That add-on of yours seems to have plumped up too. If you're going to be turning yourself on
every time you look into a mirror, you'll have to keep yourself close hauled. I mean wear a gaff or
a panty girdle. That can be uncomfortable now that summer's here. Are you sure you want to keep
that thing?"

"I have uses for that thing," I heard behind me.

Angie's voice.

"Limp or swollen. Looking beautiful is never easy. She'll spend the summer cinched up down
there, because she'll be spending the summer nearly naked. Because it'll be her first summer in
women's summer clothes, and women's summer clothes allow us to appear in public nearly naked.
It's fun, arousing men. Jessie, you look fabulous! I knew it! I knew you were there under all that
male delusion and pretentiousness. And now here you are out in the open!"

I lifted my eyes to the mirror's image of Angela behind me, behind that attractive woman who was
me, and saw that she couldn't have looked happier. I was glad for that, anyhow. "I guess so," I
said.

"I know so," she replied. "Carrie, show her how you did her complexion and her eyes, and we'll be
off. We have lots to do yet."
 15

She did. Skin, foundation and blush, no problem, but my eyes were works of art. Her design
required three different shades of eye shadow and an exacting dabs of white in the corner of each
eye. Yet finally there they were again, smoldering yet amused. A provocative yet challenging look
no man could resist.

Certainly not me.

As I studied the look in the mirror, I realized the look was designed to seduce any man. And it was
succeeding. I was seducing myself.

"Honey, I love you," Angela said to me.

"Because I look like a beautiful woman?" I said. So this was where all these months had been
leading.

"I just told you. You have always looked like a beautiful woman to me. But there is no way I
could ever have said that to you and kept you near me. You had to arrive there on your own. Now
I can tell you that." She looked deeply happy.

"I had a little help," I said, smiling at her. My lips felt a little stretched as I smiled. Of course, they
were plumped for cunt-sucking. This was her fantasy I was living, I had to go with it.

"A lot of help. Come. We have some serious shopping to do, love."

We shopped for a few hours and I gradually relaxed. I knew as I stepped onto the sidewalk that
there was no way anyone would see me as anything other than a woman. And no one did.
Saleswomen spoke to both of us deferentially and seemed eager to please. We took to giggling
together at silly things. In store after store Angela seemed determined to dress me stylishly but
sexily and make me enjoy it, and she sent me repeatedly back into the changing rooms to try on just
one more garment. My exercise sweats disappeared after the first store, where I bought some tight
stretch jeans and a boucle sweater that made the most of my tits, "because you do have a very cute
figure now, honey, and the world should know it."

Then dress after dress, slack suits and skirt suits, pencil and A-line and peasant skirts, and blouses
for every occasion. Even a strapless, sleeveless evening gown for when my shoulders and arms
thin down a bit more, as she assured me they would as my new hormones did their work. And
obscenely seductive bras, slips, teddies, and nightgowns, in deep-plunging lace and silky satin.

"Why?" I asked her about those. "Why in the world? I keep telling you that I don't want to seduce
men!"

"So you'll feel you can," she replied. "To turn a man's mind to jelly by unbuttoning a blouse is a
marvelous power all woman try to cultivate. It can be handy. You don't know that yet, but you
soon will."

She stopped suddenly as if an idea had just occurred to her.

"Yes," she said to herself. "That's how." I seemed to hear a compact snap shut. She'd decided
something.
 16

We moved on to the first of several shoe stores."

When we got home, Angie made me spend hours trying everything on, swirling this way and that
before hanging and stowing things away.

I caught some of her enthusiasm, and felt a glow in my heart when I saw how pretty some of the
things looked as I stood in my own bedroom. As pretty as the woman who was me. It was such a
good feeling!

Angela caught the fever too, and we had a marvelous time chatting with each other and making
suggestions, and giggling even more. Like two girls together anywhere.

I tried stowing my new panties alongside my men's briefs, but Angie just looked at me. "Whatever
for?" she asked. "Whose are those?"

Within five minutes, my drawers and my closet were emptied of all of my men's clothing, and
twenty minutes later they were boxed for the Salvation Army. Except for one business suit, shirt,
and tie, and one pair of socks and shoes.

"We'll keep that outfit for next Halloween," Angela said to me matter of factly.

She was making a point.

I got the point.

Then that night we did everything. We both used our dildos to exhaustion. Repeatedly. And slept
in each other's arms. "Ooooh, honey," Angela said at one point during the night. "Your skin is so
very, very smooth and soft. I can't help it, I want to kiss it everywhere."

So it wasn't just men who were seduced by Carrie's warm oil bath.

"Be my guest," I gasped. One of my swollen nipples was already in her mouth, and she was more
than welcome. And especially because of soft, slick, hairless, skin on my bottom and my asshole,
so was Bob. The sensations he gave me were beyond belief. And Angie rode me while I rode Bob
over and over, repeatedly.

******

The next morning I showered and lotioned and perfumed myself as if that was what I had always
done, it was my due, not something I did to please my wife, and I put on my tight jeans with a loose
flowered blouse at Angie's suggestion, and I made myself minimally pretty with only my usual
daytime-cosmetics. Then we then worked together in the kitchen for hours to prepare for our
guests. We planned light snacks with drinks, and then after the last of my guests had gone and
Angie's had arrived, soup and a rack of lamb.

Not too much of anything, because as Angie explained, "Women like us are always wary about of
our figures -- you should be too now that you have one."
 17

"I guess I do have one," I said, half-inattentive, chopping a green pepper for the salad.

"You know you do," Angie replied. "Just look in the mirror. If you don't know that you're
attractive, you soon will."

"Is that a promise?" I asked. "Shall I hold you to it tonight?"

"That's for me to know," she teased back.

We'd never had a nicer day together. Chatting as equals, as dear friends. Somehow I felt proud
that whenever I glanced admiringly, lovingly at her, she glanced back with the same pleased,
devoted expression.

When it came time for us to go back upstairs and get ourselves ready, I paused to kiss her. Gently.
Affectionately.

She kissed me back exactly the same way. I was so glad she'd gotten over her anxieties about me,
and my serene mood lasted all the way through our preparations. I put in the rollers required by my
new hairdo, made up my face Carrie's way, smiled at myself, sprayed, removed the rollers, and
pinned my hair as she'd designed it. Angie sat alongside me the whole time doing the same kinds
of things. Now and then we'd glance over at each other and smile with sweet understanding, like
sisters.

It felt so nice!

A true marriage!

As we both stood up in our slips, faces finally perfect, Angie went to her closet and brought out a
delicate, frothy gown of white and pink tulle. "Surprise!" she said. "Your debutante gown. Just
short and restrained enough for afternoon wear, just long and formal enough for evening wear, pale
enough for summer, innocent enough to imply you're still a maiden, and décolleté enough to show
off the cleft of your new boobs proudly. With this gown no one can doubt that you have them.
Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes," I said, gazing in wonder at it and finding I was unable to swallow, I was so moved..

"My gift to the girl of my dreams."

I looked closely at Angie. She seemed on the edge of tears -- she'd said that in all sincerity. I
finally did manage to swallow.

"Oh. it's beautiful, " I said. "Thank you!" Why was I so moved? Because I was grateful to Angie
for this gesture of love. It was so thoughtful! Being her friend was so much better than being her
servant. Or being her husband?

"When you're ready, I'll help you into it. These heels match -- four inches and strappy, very
feminine, but I've watched you the last few days, you're ready for them. Meanwhile, I'm wearing
my mauve velvet. My black lingerie and stockings to go with it, please?"
 18

"Yes’m," I replied. "Yes Miss Angie." It was fun, playing at the relationship I'd found so barren of
affection only a few months ago.

My heart was full.

"You're so very welcome, Jessie," she replied. This was so lovely! "Have I told you yet how lovely
you look?" No, she hadn't. "Well, you are." She smiled at me with such warmth that my heart
melted.

Then the dress itself felt as marvelous as it looked. I was so excited to be twirling in it that I almost
forgot to put up the hot hor d'oeuvres and fill the ice bucket, and I was bubbling with excitement
when the doorbell rang.

I danced over to open it and there was Nicole.

And suddenly stage fright struck me. Here was the first person apart from Angela who had known
the old me and now saw this new me.

This now-to-be-permanently me.

I stood there mortified, and I'm sure my face would have been bright red if my foundation and
modestly brushed-on blush didn't cover my cheeks. But Nicole hesitated a moment, staring at me
without recognition, and that gave me time to recover. After all, I thought, what else is this party
for? To introduce Angela's new me.

"Angela?" Nicole finally said. "I know by the perfume that this must be the right house, but I'm
afraid we haven't met yet. I'm Nicole, your husband's secretary."

"Why so you are," I said graciously. "I've heard so much about you."

Something in my lilting voice gave me away. "Jesse? You? Is this a joke?"

"No, Nicole," I said, my voice slightly more serious, so she'd know I wasn't clowning. "No joke.
This is where I've been going. Angie thought it was time I arrived, so here I am. This is who I am
now." I didn't want to say it, but there seemed no reason not to, so I added, "And from now on. Do
come in."

With a half-twirl on my heels I stepped aside. She entered and walked past me a little gingerly, still
staring into my face. I had to put her at ease.

"Please sit," I said. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Is that a pitcher of Margaritas over there? I'll take that, thank you. The whole pitcher." She
laughed nervously. "Well, one of those frosted glasses anyhow."

She waited until I began pouring.

"Let me understand," she said. "Angie wants this, so you want this."

"More or less, yes. This is how she wants it."

 19

"I hear you. So this is how it will be."

"Yes. It has its good points."

She seemed unconvinced.

"Really,” I assured her, “there's lots about it that I love."

There was, too. Recalling how Angie and I were nowadays in bed, I could say that sincerely.

"That cleft in your bosom. The ... those rather pronounced breasts you have now. Are they you?"

"Yes, all me."

She hesitated a moment, sipped at the salted edge of her Margarita glass, thought a moment, then
straightened her shoulders and said brightly, "Well, all right then. Welcome to the club, Jesse. It is
still Jesse, isn't it?"

"No, it's Jessie now," I said soberly, teasing her, my eyes never wavering from hers.

She caught on and threw me a quick grin. "I love your dress, Jessie," she said. "Why haven't I seen
you wearing it before?"

"I haven't been a girl before," I replied as if seriously. "But thank you. Angie bought it for me for
this very 'coming out' party." Then I remembered, women always trade compliments. "Where did
you get those marvelous earrings, Nicole? They're fabulous."

"Thank you," she replied, pleased. As a man I'd never commented on anything she wore. "My
partner bought them for me. They are lovely, I agree."

"He has excellent taste," I said. They were rhinestone chandeliers set in silver, not at all fit for
office wear but superb for dressy parties.

"She," Nicole replied. "Yes, she does. She's a fashion designer. I sometimes wear her career line
to the office. You've never noticed?"

"No, never. I didn't know," I said. "You ... ahh, you live with another woman? Your 'partner'?
You've known each other long?"

"Long enough to get to know each other the way you know Angela," Nicole replied, amused by my
polite evasion but determined to be unequivocal. "We each see others, but we'd be married like you
and Angela if we could be. Though we're happy enough."

I was silenced. Nicole in a lesbian relationship? My mind short-circuited.

There was a pause.

"You'll be coming to the office on Monday dressed like this?" Nicole asked, changing the subject.
She still seemed a little awe-struck by my appearance, and waited attentively for the answer.
 20

"No," I heard Angela reply next to me. How long has she been standing there? "Not in that dress.
She'll probably wear a smart tweed business suit we found together, a Donna Karan. And low
matching heels, I'd say no more than two inches."

"I see," Nicole said. She suddenly beamed at me and Angie far more intimately than she ever had
even when I was one of her lunch crowd. "You'll look just marvelous, Jessie!"

So now I was a woman to Nicole too.

"I'm sure she will," Angie replied. "I'm Angie, by the way. Jessie's told me so much about you, but
apparently not everything."

"Nicole. It's so good to meet you at last. Jessie's told you all she knew about me, I'm sure. But
you know men."

Angie glanced at me indulgently. "Yes. I was married to one once. Nicole, I must thank you for
your support through these months of Jessie's transition. She's been a doll about it but I know she's
been nervous. You've made it so much easier by not questioning or embarrassing her, and
especially by including her with the other girls. As her secretary you're obviously special -- I do
hope you'll continue to work with her for a long time to come."

Now what was that about? Angie knows I'm changing jobs, and she's now telling me to take Nicole
upstairs with me? I intended to, but we hadn't discussed it, and now she's committed me. Talk
about taking charge!

"Tell you what," Angie went on. "Are you free to stay on after this party ends? I'm having some
friends in for dinner -- it'll give us a chance to get to know each other a little better."

Nicole didn't hesitate. "Yes, that would be nice, I'd love to."

"Your partner too, if she has no other plans. She'd be very welcome. Please try to persuade her to
come. Any time after eight. Jessie, isn't that the door chime again?"

As I went to answer the door, Angela and Nicole moved closer and continued to chat. They
seemed to understand each other instinctively. Of course, I suddenly realized! Angela is relieved
to discover that Nicole is a lesbian. All this time she's been worried about Nicole making moves on
me, maybe setting up a relationship and ... what was the legal phrase, 'alienating my affections'? It
happens all the time in business offices. But with Nicole a lesbian and no longer a threat, Angie
didn't mind her -- in fact Nicole wanted her to keep an eye on me. That was amusing!

It took me another moment to realize that a lesbian might now be more interested in me than ever,
that Angie's more likely purpose in befriending Nicole was to forestall any moves on me. That was
even more amusing.

Women!

The girls of my luncheon crowd arrived practically together. Like Nicole they failed at first to
recognize me, then were astonished. I explained to them as to Nicole who I now was and why. For
the last time, thankfully.
 21

I owed no one else an explanation, and I still felt uneasy about seeming so committed to life as a
woman when it was Angie's commitment of me and my acquiescence, my private reservations kept
well buried. All congratulated me on my appearance and the apparent completion of my "journey,"
and all welcomed me into their midst. They seemed so much more relaxed and open with me now.

It was rather nice and I warmed to it.

Maureen looked me over and shrugged jestingly as if defeated. "As a man you were fair game,
maybe even my meat, " she said. "Tucked in where I'd want you, certainly my meat. But now
you're only competition. Maybe I should keep you busy with those leftover men I mentioned? If
your wife isn't interested in taking a man or two off my hands, are you?"

I explained no, no more than earlier, but I thanked her for the offer. Then got busy with platters of
snacks and canapés and with pouring drinks.

It was obvious from the silence that fell over my lunch companions whenever I came near them
that I was their main topic of conversation. Only to be expected, that had after all been Angie's
main reason for inviting them. At a given moment, Angie clinked a glass, and when the room fell
silent she offered a toast. To me as a new woman. To my joy as I discover its pleasures. To her
hope that I would only grow in sweetness and beauty as the years passed.

In turn I thanked her.

It felt good to be celebrated in the same room where only a few months earlier I'd been barely
tolerated, reduced to a servant and something of a pariah. This was much better as far as my
marriage went. By the time my lunch crowd began to leave we were closer friends than ever, and I
was wondering whether the firm's new Comptroller could still meet them for lunch. Not as often, I
suppose, I'll have to do power lunches as often as not. But now and then.

Nicole stayed and helped us clear and then set the dinner table for round two of my debut -- the
dinner itself was in the oven, in pots on the stove, in the micro, and fully under control. Her partner
Drew showed up when we were nearly ready, and Drew turned out to be a tall, thin woman with a
natural elegance that allowed her to seem altogether casual yet always cool, in control. She wore a
shift with remarkable patterning -- Paloma Picasso's fabric, I learned, but her own design. Again
Angela developed an instant affinity for her, and the three of them began chatting about fads and
fashions and trends and styles in a language that seemed altogether foreign to me.

Her friends arrived, Angie's "hen fest," the women she'd especially wanted to have see me. As they
came in I recognized among them as the four most truculent and disapproving of Angie's wedding
guests, women who had maintained only a minimal civility with me throughout that day. I knew
the name of only one, Mavis, a maid of honor, but they were all Angie's old high school crowd, so I
greeted them all as a hostess should.

They in turn were quite gracious, relaxed and genial with me, not at all surprised to see me looking
as I did and almost immediately friendly, even mildly affectionate, As if though old antagonists we
could now be old friends. They praised my dress, my shoes, my hairdo, and Angela especially
called their attention to my make-up -- "she does her own face now, and doesn't she look
marvelous?" I did, they agreed. I was marvelous.

I glowed to hear it.

 22

The same amicable chat continued through dinner, Nicole and her partner blending in with the
others. The conversation shifted from fashions to trips one or another had taken, to mutual
acquaintances, to interior decoration. I understood little of it, but understood that it was now in my
future to learn a lot more, if only because this would be my social circle from now on. Little by
little. For now it was mysterious. "We'll be able to cycle you in now?" one of the women asked
Angie, and Angie nodded, no problem, and everything was all set for here for later. I had no idea
what that meant. There was talk about midsummer parties on a terrace, and a bridal shower for one
of their gang, and a marriage that was a little rocky, and whether someone they knew would be
sufficiently appreciative of something. I tuned out altogether, and kept wine glasses filled.
Someone else, I noticed, was keeping mine filled, and with not much to say I sipped and sipped and
basked in their general acceptance of me, my membership in their circle. It was a lot like my
inclusion in Nicole's lunch circle, but much more cozy. Comfy. Woozy-making too, a little. I
shook myself awake once or twice.

As we retired to the living room and I went to get the cognac and cordials, one of them was saying,
"Yes, he's waiting outside, shall I call him?" There was general agreement, we were all ready or
something. I poured the splashes and filled the small liqueur glasses, and heard the door chime.

"Do get that, sweetie, would you?" Angie asked. Her face was luminous with anticipation.

Something was up and she knew it. A surprise guest? Flowers for me, to celebrate my ascent and
assent to womanhood? I stumbled over the word even in my thoughts.

A tall man was at the door, I recalled him vaguely from our wedding, maybe, someone's husband or
boy friend. Huge, bulky and comfortable in a sport shirt that left his tanned, muscled arms
exposed. Not quite suitably dressed for this occasion, but no matter. Here to pick up one of
Angie's guests?

His first words took me aback, or would have if I weren't feeling so ... displaced by all that wine.

"You're beautiful, Jessie," he said. "This will be so wonderful for both of us!"

"It will?" I replied. I stepped aside, taking refuge in polite ritual. "Do come in," I said. "Who shall
I say ....?"

"I intend to," he said, stepping in. "All the way."

Then while I was puzzling about this rather unorthodox reply he stepped forward and wrapped his
large arms around me. I looked up wide-eyed and shocked. He bent his down and pressed his
mouth to mine, and then just held me rigid, locked in his embrace, my head as far back as it could
go, all of me immobile in a man's arms.

A man's arms!

I instinctively went "Mmmmpfff" and tried to shake my head to free it, to try to call for Angela, for
anyone in the next room to come rescue me.

What was this?

 23

But this stranger placed a huge paw on the back of my carefully pinned up coiffure and held me
firm. One leg came between mine and lifted me slightly up off the floor. My arms were pinned.
There was no way I could move. I felt a strange sensation in my mouth, his tongue. He was tongue
fucking my mouth!

"Uhhhh," I said again. If I hadn't drunk so much wine I'd have been terrified. I was anyhow. My
heart beat furiously. I felt faint.

I was absolutely helpless. I heard giggling behind me. Some of the girls were standing there
watching. Then I heard Angie's voice in my ear.

"Honey, I hope you don't mind. We need to be sure of one last thing before you can be accepted as
my kind of woman. We both need to be sure."

"Mmmff!" I replied. My eyes were wide open, still fearful but no longer terrified, because Angie
seemed to be in charge and I knew she meant well, but ... the man was still kissing me passionately.
Pushing his tongue into my mouth.

In my wife's very presence!

"You've been so marvelous as you've become a woman, but there's one trait you deny. You're
always insisting that you don't want to have sex with a man. And yet you make love to Bob and to
my dildo eagerly -- when they're in your mouth or your rear you're ecstatic! Well, I love you, and I
can't deprive you. If it's that you're gay but afraid to allow your feelings full play, I want to liberate
them. I don't know if it's homophobia or just that you still think you're a heterosexual man. But
either is inappropriate for a woman. So tonight you will go all the way with a man. A real man, so
you know how it really feels to have sex with a real man, not a mere dildo. You'll give him head
and you will fuck gloriously with him, with a man who's alive and breathing and can surround you
with his arms and press you to his body and penetrate you with a throbbing cock. Some women
want only that. Some women want no part of any man. If you are truly a woman, which are you?
Just go upstairs with this man and do what he says, then come down again and tell me how it felt."

She paused. "His name's 'Jeremy,'" and he's the brother of one of my dearest friends, and I want
you to enjoy him if you can, any way you can. If you can't enjoy him, then experience him and try
to decide why not. Either way, make yourself desirable to him as women do. You know what I
mean. Enjoy a woman's greatest satisfaction, knowing an attractive man finds her desirable. And
Jeremy is attractive. That's really why we all dress as we do and try to make ourselves as enticing
as we can. I'll be waiting for you down here."

"Mmmmmm!" I squealed. I have never in my life felt so helpless.

Angie was taking charge again, but this was a powerful man. Could I refuse her? No, not even
this. But why this, this forced ... was it a kind of rape? Why now?

"Don't struggle, honey. In an hour we'll both know the most crucial thing of all about you.
Remember, our marriage depends on it."

That shocked me. And baffled me. This was a test of my sincerity in some way? I wouldn't be a
true woman and acceptable as her dearest girlfriend unless I enjoyed this Jeremy the same way
women enjoy men?
 24

Jeremy's head lifted from my face, and I turned to stare at Angie.

She was close alongside, she'd been speaking into my ear. Her face was terribly earnest and
worried. She was serious! There were risks here I couldn't begin to fathom.

"For me," she said. "For us." And she kissed my ear and stepped back. I stared at her retreating
figure as this situation sank in, then turned to face Jeremy. There was nothing for it. I was going to
have sex with this man. I was somehow being sent on a dangerous mission to retrieve valuable
information, how I liked getting fucked.

Jeremy's expression was pleasant, unperturbed. I felt helpless, not merely because of his superior
strength. Suddenly, as if I weighed nothing at all he picked me up and carried me upstairs and
carried me into our bedroom, Mine and Angie's, and laid me down on our bed, and began to strip.
Bob wasn't on the bed as usual. This bed had been prepared for Jeremy, a real Bob and no
facsimile.

This was all part of Angie's plan. My coming out. As a woman? As queer?

Queer? The idea of sex with a man repelled me a little, but I suppressed it. She was right. I had
slobbered over Bob and over her dildo, not willingly at first but now avidly, with deep affection for
both of them, because I loved it. Especially because I'd always end up afterward getting deeply
fucked by both of them, and that was a delight beyond description. I didn't know myself whether it
was the cock in my mouth or in my ass that pleased me most. Or whether I was pleased only
because accepting cocks in my mouth and my ass pleased her? Now she wanted to know. Would
she stay married to a gay man who loved cock? Was she hoping I was now a hetero woman who
loved cock? That I was neither? My brains were addled. I didn't know what she hoped to know,
or what I should hope to think or feel.

I would have to assume nothing and report my feelings as honestly and truthfully as I could. And
that meant I had to give Jeremy a try. Fuck a real man.

'A real man.' The very words reminded me that I wasn't a real man any longer, by no stretch. But
what was I?

"Ready, honey?" he asked me, unbuckling his pants and dropping them. Solemnly, I nodded. He
dropped his boxer shorts. There on his crotch hung an enormous dong, one of the largest I had ever
seen or could imagine. It seemed to fall halfway to his knees, with huge balls half-hidden behind
them. "Make me hard for you, honey," he said gently. "Wrap those pretty red lips around me."

And he lay back regally on the bed, clasping his hands behind his head and waiting.

My cue. I took a deep breath, sat up, turned, and lay down again with my face next to his crotch. It
smelled sweaty, faintly of stale urine. I reached over to take that long prick, that length of fire hose
in one hand to steady it for my mouth, and felt all sorts of unfamiliar warts and bumps on it. His
crotch was not at all like Angela's, soft, compliant, mysterious, yielding, musky and perfumed, but
instead rather rank, with flabby, wrinkled balls.

I closed my lips on his cock head and almost immediately a pubic hair got caught in my teeth.
 25

This is not pleasant, I told myself. Best not to pay close attention and to avoid breathing through
my nose. Above all to pay no attention to the man attached to this ... this dildo.

So I began licking and sucking on it as always with Bob and with Angela's dildo. One more
projectile merely. At least the surface of this thing is satiny smooth, I told myself as I slid my
tongue across it, trying to put the best possible face on the situation.

As I slipped my wet lips further down it began to swell, and I found I had to open as wide as I
could. My tongue was jammed down and my jaw started to ache. Get this over with. I tentatively
tried a first suck, and a faint slick, salty taste filled my mouth -- I must have sucked pre-cum out of
his pee hole, so I swallowed.

The flavor remained.

Now you're a real cocksucker, I told myself. This is a real man's cock and you've sucked it. I tried
to tell myself it didn't matter, I was doing this for Angie. But that wasn't altogether true. I was
doing it for me too, for months now trying to save our marriage by doing whatever Angie wanted.

Yet our marriage was still at risk. If I came up with the wrong feelings about this blowjob when I
reported back to Angela, then all of my sacrifices and humiliations, the transformation of my life
from the first tentative lick of cum in Miss Angela's pussy to this full mouthed sucking on a strange
man's erect cock, all of my compromises would have been in vain.

The whole helmeted cock head jammed my mouth full. I had no choice, I had to breathe through
my nose. I'd tried now and then to deep throat Angie's dildo, and now and then I'd managed it. But
this cock was far too thick. The best I could do was tug on the upper half with my mouth and jerk
off the lower half with my hand.

So I did both. I dedicated myself to this simple task, and I was soon rewarded with the first groan
from my ... partner. Maybe it would be over soon.

As I proceeded I began to look forward to the end, but I also began to feel annoyed. Resentful,
even angry. Not toward Jeremy, not toward this man whose unfragrant cock I was servicing, but
toward Angela and her uncertainties. These days she never wondered whether she was kissing me
the right way, she had no qualms about anything we did, every way was the right way. But was I
sucking this guy's cock for the right reasons? I didn't want to do this blow job, she'd set me up with
it without asking me, without consultation, and it was physically unpleasant, it was humiliating for
me to be servicing this ... this thing. As if a slut available on loan. His whore. I couldn't blame
him for being here, it wasn't his fault, he'd been volunteered by one of her friends apparently, and
agreed to it, what man will ever turn down a blow job?

I blamed Angela.

And as my annoyance grew my sucking and jerking rhythms picked up too, the stroking and
clasping and milking with my lips came faster and faster until I was frenziedly bobbing over him
with my mouth and with both hands, gobbling up that huge baton and actually getting some of it
down my throat. Another groan. Then suddenly while it was partly down my throat it swelled to
gargantuan size and I stopped everything. I couldn't move, it was stuck there. I couldn't breathe. I
hung there, that cock impaled in my face like a fat arrow in a soft target, in my vitals, and Jeremy
lifted his hips and tried to push himself in deeper still.
 26

We were crammed together, and I was choking to death on that monster cock.

Then it began to pulse. And hot cum began to pump into my throat, and down into my stomach,
and back into my mouth, and suddenly everything became a lot more slippery. My salvation! I
was able to slide my mouth back a little and his long tube emerged from my throat. My lips
clamped down on the tip and I found myself swallowing his cum as rapidly as he could pump it
into me. I swallowed and swallowed. And swallowed. He collapsed back on the bed. Then there
was no more. Thank God that was done.

******

But it wasn't. "You were really into that for a while, little lady, weren't you?" Jeremy remarked,
still breathing hard. "You're great!"

I looked at him silently, trying to glare but thinking all the while, here's one more clueless male
who thinks women love to suck cocks. I was once one of those males once myself I suppose.

Anyhow, thought, I did bring him off. I can faithfully report to Angie that her husband is now a
bona fide cocksucker, that she can justly feel proud of him. If that's what she wanted to know.

"Now I want to make you a woman," Jeremy added. "It's past time."

Now what did that mean? Oh my God, I knew what that meant! He was huge, still horny, there
was only one way I could try to stop him.

"Jeremy," I said as sweetly and seductively as I could. "I don't ... I mean, the usual places where
women ...."

"Oh, sweetheart!" Jeremy replied with a laugh. "You're beautiful! Just too beautiful! I know what
you have and what you don't have! Trust me, I know where to put my schlong so you'll feel just
fine! Really fine! I'm bisexual, I know what girls have and I know what boys have and I love both
places. Believe me, you'll love it! You'll love feeling me move deep inside your private place --
you've already proved that to me with your mouth! God did you get hot -- no one has ever gotten
that turned on, lavished so much love on my prick. Boy or girl, I know how you'll feel once I'm
inside your ass. You'll never forget me!"

Defeated, resigned, all I could say was, "Well, let me take off my dress first." Anything to delay
my ultimate cornholing. Maybe the world would end first? Maybe it wouldn't be too bad? I did
love the full feeling Bob gave me, especially when Angie was writhing on top of her dildo -- my
cock -- and pressing Bob deeper and deeper into me. And I loved the thrust of Angie's double-
ended dildo when she'd heated up and was fucking out of control and I was fucking back
rapturously. I even enjoyed the feel of those butt plugs pressing on me whenever I walked or sat
down. Heaven! But I wasn't looking forward to being spitted and split by this massive piece of
meat.

"No need to remove your dress," he said. "Just your panties. Ah, thigh-high stockings, no problem
there either -- leave them on, they're sexy. Now, on your knees, honey, and poke that tush high up
in the air."
 27

I did. With deep foreboding. Could I survive this? Having almost choked to death, having
escaped only because that cock had climaxed in time and lubricated its way out of my throat, could
my asshole now survive being stretched? Before being torn to pieces? No. His thing was again
fully engorged, and looked like the end of a baseball bat. The fat end.

He tossed my skirt over my head and seized me by the waist and mounted me, his cock laid
lengthwise along the slit between my buttocks. "You have such a ripe rear end," he said. "No girl
like you should ever be fucked in the cunt, not while she has buns like these. Oh, God I want inside
you the worst way."

He climbed forward until his whole body rested on my back -- hairy, hard, bony, heavy, and
unwelcome, nothing like Angie's or any other woman's soft, curving flesh. Unattractive. Then he
shoved himself inside me the worst way, just as he'd said. In a single thrust.

I shrieked and blacked out!

When I came to, I felt the way I'd felt when I was a kid and in the middle of a wet dream. A sweet
yearning suffused my lower parts and grew stronger. A striving toward fulfillment. I realized that
something huge and heavy and thick and slick, yet slightly yielding, had invaded my bottom and
was slowly filling it, stuffing it, cramming it with a lurch, then withdrawing, emptying me, leaving
me hollow with longing, an ineluctable sense of loss. Then something slowly began barging into
me again.

With each withdrawal and return those sensations increased, grew more distinct, intensified. On a
completed down thrust I felt as full as with Bob. But altogether overmastered, overwhelmed. This
was something warm and alive, and it loved me, and I squirmed and tried to kiss it back with my
anus. I knew it could feel each clenching and could appreciate each as a gesture of gratitude. It
slid into me and out again much the way Angie's dildo did, but it stretched me far wider. It became
how I felt about everything.

The yearning in my belly grew as Jeremy pounded and plunged and crammed himself into my
bottom. It increased in intensity and ferocity until he was pistoning and slamming me as fast as he
could move his pelvis. The pain of that first entry was forgotten. I was all joy, transported out of
my mind. I shouted out an exuberant "YESSSS!" with each thrust and an appalled "NOOOOO!"
with each withdrawal, until the sounds overlapped. And finally I had the most powerful orgasm of
my life. My penis still slack, my whole body clenched and liquefied into pure bliss. My penis first
drooled then poured out cum.

I blacked out again.

When I came to I found myself spooned, wrapped in Jeremy's arms as he hugged me from behind.
His hands grasped my breasts. He was still breathing heavily. His long penis pressed into my
drenched crack, but now it was soft. He felt me move.

"You loved it, didn't you. You loved getting fucked."

I couldn't deny it. "Yes. You have a great cock, Jeremy, it's incredible, a gift that gives and gives
and keeps on giving. I'm overwhelmed. Thank you." I meant it.

"Can you stand yet? Your wife is downstairs waiting for you."
 28

I couldn't tell. My asshole felt terribly sore. And terribly full. When I sat up I seemed to feel
maybe a quart of cum gurgle down my colon toward my opening. It was as if I'd taken a huge
enema and had retained it. I suppose I had. A cum enema.

"You're leaking a little, honey. Do you have a tampon, maybe?"

"A tampon would do no good right now," I said to him. It felt odd, talking so calmly with a man I'd
just sucked and who had then just fucked me insensible, just as if I were a woman. His woman.
But no way his lover. I felt grateful for what he'd just done to me, it was magnificent, all of it, but I
felt no affection for him.

"I'm a little too stretched out down there for a tampon, I think. Even a super tampon. Thanks to
you."

"Then a butt plug? Angela told me you use them. Maybe you can plug yourself?"

Not a bad thought. I reached for the drawer on the bedside table where Angie kept them and took
out the biggest. It had seemed a monster not long ago, I'd never be able to stuff it up my ass, but
now Jeremy's prick carried that honor. It slipped in easily, and my sphincter barely closed on it.

"Angela wants to see you leaking when you come down to talk to her. So she'll know for sure that
you've been totally and utterly fucked, that your ass is no longer virginal. She needs to know by the
evidence of her own eyes that you're now a woman. I did it. I'll testify to it, but I guess there's a lot
hanging on it for her."

A man's vanity. 'I did it.' Sure, it was a great fuck, but for a man no great accomplishment at all.

"So get your ass down there and show her what it looks like. You have plenty of my sperm in you
now. It's in two different places come to think of it, and if you had a third place, believe me I'd
pump that full too. I've got to tell you, Jessie, you are the best piece of ass I've had in a very long
time. I'm leaving my card on your dresser. Be sure to give me a call if you ever want a replay. Any
time. I hope you will."

He seemed effusive. Do men always talk this much after they've gotten laid? As if they were
awarding themselves a victory round of some kind?

"Thanks, ahhh, Jeremy. I appreciate knowing I did well. A girl never forgets her first, you've
heard that saying. Well, this was certainly unforgettable."

It certainly was. I rose and made my way painfully to my make-up table and mirror to survey the
damage. Lord was I sore! Yet, up above my neck hardly any change at all! My lipstick was long
gone, worn off by his cock, but my face was still presentable.

That's what comes of fucking without making out first, I thought.

Not that I'd ever want to make out with him, was my next thought. I realized that I'd enjoyed
getting fucked by this prize cock, but that I felt nothing for the cock's owner, not even gratitude.
Less than nothing. I recalled the smell of his groin when my nose was shoved into it and my mouth
was full of cock, and I felt a faint distaste.
 29

"My pleasure," he replied with a gentlemanly sweep of his hand.

I smiled wanly at him and left the room, in such a hurry to leave that I didn't even pause to put my
panties back on.

When I reached the living room there was Angie waiting for me.

Alone.

"Our guests went home?"

"They're downstairs in the game room," she said. "Show me."

I recalled how annoyed I'd felt about her manipulations while I was sucking on Jeremy's cock. This
was too peremptory! A hint of that same resentment returned. "Show you what?" I asked her
innocently.

"Your pussy. I want to see Jeremy's cum leaking out of your asshole. I need to know for certain
that you've been baptized with cum from a live cock. Then I can ask you a few questions that need
honest answers."

"Show you what's draining out of my ass? Whatever for? That sounds sooo sick!" I knew I'd
show her but I was in no hurry.

"No, Jessie. It's sooo necessary. I've told you why. I could go up and retrieve the audio-recorder
in the room and try to tell from that what happened, and I will later on, but I'd rather we settle this
issue right now. If he fucked your ass, show me!"

I did. I turned away and pulled up my skirt and bent over and mooned her. Then reached around
and pulled out the butt plug.

Immediately Jeremy's cum gushed out and started down my leg.

Unmistakable cum.

Angela rushed into the kitchen and brought back a dishtowel. I allowed the rest of my assfull to
drip into the dishtowel.

"Angela, you humiliated me!" I said. "I resent it!" I meant both earlier and right now. All my
residual animus came forward. I tried to repress it.

"You didn't care for it? You didn't like sex with Jeremy?"

Now the moment of truth. Do I tell her I loved it, that I'm a true woman who loves sex with men,
or a true gay man who loves sex with men? Was that what she wanted to hear? I wasn't either of
those things. About Jeremy I felt nothing at all.
 30

All right, here goes. "The sex was great, Angie! I now know why women love getting laid. The
blow job no, I did that because it was expected of me, and frankly I found it a little disgusting, and
I'm glad it's done. I didn't care for it and I didn't care for Jeremy and I still don't. But I loved the
fucking. Oh, God, yes! To feel something warm, alive, pulsing, sliding back and forth inside you!
Heaven! Oh, yes, I loved that!"

"The fucking. Not the man."

"Yes."

I didn't expect what then happened. Angela rushed toward me and embraced me so passionately I
nearly fell over. "Oh, God, honey, you have no idea how I've wanted to hear you say that! How
I've yearned for you to say that! Because getting fucked and loving it, truly fucked and truly loving
it, but not caring at all about the man who's doing it, that's positive proof that you're not an ordinary
man, not a gay man, you're a woman, a lovely lovely woman. And not just any kind of woman but a
special kind, the kind that doesn't fix her heart and her affections on men even when she most
appreciates what men can do for her. The kind of woman I am! The kind of woman who would
rather love women, kiss and be kissed above and below by a woman, and wants her men to be
living dildos!"

She was punctuating this speech with kisses. She was kissing me everywhere, on my face, my
neck, my ears, my eyelids. She didn't seem able to stop.

"If you had loved sucking Jeremy's cock and felt affectionate toward Jeremy afterward, felt desire
for him, that would have been my kiss off gift to you. You'd be over the hump and you'd soon find
you could accept your homosexuality and learn to enjoy it. The first cock a gay man sucks might be
a little disconcerting, but the rest get increasingly easy. And easily available. A femme gay man
never lacks for cocks to suck."

"I'm not that kind. Certainly not that kind of man. I did it, but...."

"I know, honey, I know. But you've made such devoted love to Bob, and to my dildo, so many
times. How could either of us know that it wasn't their manliness, it was their ability to bring
pleasure to the deepest reaches of your body. You didn't know that. But now we both know."

"I make love to your dildos as a way to make love to you," I said simply.

"I know. I know. You're a woman at heart, honey. A woman-loving woman, a lesbian woman but
not so completely lesbian that you want to forgo all contact with men. You're still happy to use
men for your own pleasure. But you can't love them. Only women."

"Yes." That was certainly true.

"Now I want to give you the most marvelous gift in my possession. A welcome to womanhood. I
want to make you one of us."

Womanhood? What else had I been cultivating these many months? But by now I'd recovered
enough to kiss Angela's eyelids in return. And place a few kisses on her cheeks. And one on her
mouth.
 31

Her mouth was mine again, soft and yielding. I didn't know how true anything was of what she'd
just said. But I loved hearing it because it meant I was somehow finally accepted. That Angela
could now love me without any hesitations or uncertainties or reservations or conditions.
Somehow I'd passed all the ordeals and graduated. I was one of her.

I burst into tears. My heart had never felt so full.

"Come with me, sweetheart. Take off all those clothes and come with me." She took my hand and
stood. I stood too. She began leading me to the hallway between our dining room and the kitchen,
then down the steps that led to our cellar game room.

I followed with joyous tears streaming down my cheeks, unable to see, but it didn't matter. I felt
accepted. I felt loved. No more conditions or tests. I loved Angela. My heart was full.

When we arrived at the open door of the game room, I wasn't sure what I was seeing. The lights
were on, the room was bright, and strangely, the floor was covered with the mattresses we kept
down there to provide emergency bedding for friends who never visited anyhow. But there were
bodies sprawled and draped on the mattresses in various poses.

My eyes were so bleary that the bodies appeared to be naked women's bodies. I paused and wiped
my eyes, then wiped them again, and opened them again.

They were naked women's bodies. It was a scene from a brothel or a Sultan's harem. Gorgeous
naked women, houris, were luxuriously lounging about or amusing themselves with each other.
Here and there one was wearing a necklace and another her spike heels. But otherwise all was soft
curve and round pink flesh.

I recognized them. All of Angie's friends from dinner had come down here and made themselves
stark naked, passing the time with each other while I was upstairs with Jeremy. While I was being
initiated into the pleasures men provide and the limits of those pleasures, what men can't provide,
the most profound of pleasures, these women had been enjoying those most profound pleasures
with each other. Two of them were resting, stroking each other's hips and boobs absent-mindedly.
One had what seemed to be three of her fingers buried in another's snatch while that other lay on
her back and writhed quietly while smiling a beautiful smile.

At the far end of the room, paying no attention to us, I saw a woman with Nicole's face and an
incredible body. Nicole was built like a porn star! She was reaming one of Angela's friends, her
strap-on pumping relentlessly in and out of an anorexic, almost waif like body that seemed to
consist mainly of two huge breasts, a pair of broad hips framing a hollow stomach, and long, long
legs clasped lovingly around Nicole's waist. The dildo disappeared into a slit at the base of those
hips, just where the elongated, marvelously curved thighs and legs began. Nicole was pounding
her, and Nicole's tits waved and slapped up and down over the girl's face from her exertions.

"Oh, God!" the woman beneath her was crying aloud. "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" Once with
each thrust.

Angie's friend Mavis stood up and came over and greeted us as we loitered in the doorway and I
tried to believe what my eyes were telling me.
 32

"Jessie!" she said to me. "How wonderful! None of us thought you could ever pass the Jeremy
test. I mean, Jeremy's screwed a lot of women, and no matter how much they loved their husbands
they've all fallen in love with that magnificent meat of his, once he's packed it into them, and then
with him too as its owner. And the gay men I know would sell themselves into slavery to spend
their lives sucking on that cock. But not you! I have been so wrong about you! I was sure you
were a submissive wimp unworthy of us, especially when Angie was demeaning you, demoting you
to practically a scullery maid in your own home, and you let her. Worth enslaving but not loving.
But you convinced her it was all for love. And it was! Then when she quit with our advice to
dump you and instead followed her own instincts and made you go increasingly girly, you went
along with that too with never a complaint. I was sure then that you were queer as a corkscrew.
But wrong again! You really do love her, don't you?"

She waited to hear it. Angela waited too, suppressing her pride in me. "Yes," I said. "I love
Angela with all my heart. I have always loved her. From the moment I first saw her."

I knew that kind of sincere declaration would silence both of them. Truth does silence people.

Mavis stood there in awe. Like all of the other women there, she seemed to have the figure of a
Greek goddess. But she just stood there.

Angie broke in. "Honey, welcome to our sorority. You are now a dear friend, my dearest friend in
fact, I was sure you had all the prerequisites, and you do, along with that one extra we all cherish,
and you too now. A built-in dildo well-fit for fucking. This is our welcoming sleepover in your
honor -- we meet often to enjoy each other's company, but never all night. This one's for you. If
you like, change into a negligee and perfume yourself and spend the rest of the night down here
with us. I want you to fold yourself in feminine flesh until you're unable to tell where one of our
bodies begins and your own ends. You're one of us. On nights like these we make ourselves
available to each other, and husbands are left at home. Day Times too, whenever any of us are free.
All other nights you'll be mine only and you'll sleep with me only!"

Before I could grasp what she'd just said and find a reply, she threw off her robe and walked
jouncing across the mattresses over to a small naked blonde who seemed to have been waiting for
her. Then lay down next to her. They hugged and then kissed with infinite tenderness and slowly
heightening passion. Angela with another woman! But I was a woman too! Mavis still stood
there, inspecting my bare-breasts with their enlarged nipples. Her eyes dropped down to my
rounded ass, and she held out her hand to me.

I spent the night there. Different women's pussies lubricated my body differently, but they had all
leaked and drained and smeared all over me by the end of the evening. My head spent the night
between whatever pairs of thighs I happened to be near, and one or another pussy mounted my
dildo and slid gently up and down on it.

Once I felt a tight, tight hole squeeze it, and opened my eyes to see Mavis's.

"Only my husband's cock gets into my pussy, sorry Jessie," she told me. "But my ass is yours
whenever you want it, just say so. That is, as long as yours is mine."

Another time, toward morning, I looked over and found Angela lying alongside me. She nodded,
her eyebrows high with affirmation and amusement. "Don't feel ashamed and don't feel guilty,
sweetheart," she said.
 33

"We all love each other. We've always loved each other, ever since we were girls together in high
school. A few of us have left the group, and a few new girls have joined us. You and Nicole and
her friend are our newest girls, you with that special gift we'll all want to use. Your special dildo.
We all love you, but I love you most of all."

She made this incredible speech while her partner was plunging in and out of her with an eight inch
dildo. Then she surrendered to that dildo. Instead of replying, I filled my mouth with soft titty,
who knows whose?

******

Around dawn the girls gathered themselves, kissed each other goodbye, made appointments for
shopping or lunch, confirmed the times of parent-teacher meetings, and left. Angela and I were the
hostesses so we kissed each a quick farewell on the cheek, as seemed only suitable on a Sunday
morning. It was so sweet. Then Angie and I went upstairs to our own bed, the very same bed
where Jeremy had set me my entrance exam, and we wrapped ourselves in each other and slept
until early afternoon. Then passed the rest of the day and the evening relaxed, each doing our own
things and enjoying the serene comfort of our complete acceptance of each other as we now were.

The next morning I did indeed wear my tweed Donna Karan outfit to the office. Nicole was
already at her desk looking as efficient as ever. She looked up at me with a welcoming smile with
no hint in it that she'd spent a half-hour last night on her back, her legs spread wide apart while I
was devouring her cunt and licking its incredible perfumed juices.

"There's an envelope from the CEO on your desk," she informed me. "His secretary says they want
you up there at 10:00am. Any idea why?"

I told her why. "I want you with me," I finished. "As my assistant, not my secretary. There're
plenty of those there already, but there's only one of you."

She smiled. "Angela told me last night that your offer was likely, and she hoped I'd accept it."

Again? Angela was still making business decisions for me? That was a little out of line. Irksome.
"We new sorority members need to look after each other," Nicole said. This time a secret smile did
flit across her face. "She wants me to look after you."

I knew this time what Nicole meant. Angela had told us that the we all have daytime access to each
other if we're otherwise free. Nicole was Angela's gift to me. Even so ....

The envelope contained an enormous bonus check, far larger than I'd anticipated, but the greater
surprise came when I went for my 10:00 appointment and was directed to the President's
conference room.

The entire top brass was assembled there, and as I entered they rose and applauded me.

I was a little taken aback.

 34

Astonished, in fact. Because there among the VPs and heads of departments was Angela, and she
was smiling as broadly as any of the others and applauding as vigorously. What...?

Everyone introduced themselves, and I shook everyone's hand. One or two had known me distantly
as the man Jesse, but no one associated that Jesse with the smart-looking woman Jessie standing in
front of them.

"Ah, Jessie!" the CEO said, as if we were old friends, though in fact I had no reason to believe we
had ever met. You know why you're here, Jessie," he said. "And we know that you've already
accepted this promotion. Congratulations! What you don't know though is what's just happened to
us. As of this morning we've been bought out. We're now a branch of Magnum Industries. Those
analyses you ran for us assured that the takeover would be highly profitable all around, so we've
been taken over. Angela here has been overseeing the deal for weeks now, and she'll be the
Magnum representative working most closely with us to assure the success of the merger all
around. I believe you know her already?"

"Yes," I said. "We're sisters. I mean, we belong to the same sorority."

Let him mislead himself with that statement. Sooner or later people will find that we live together.

"We've known each other quite a long while."

"I'm sure we'll all get on just splendidly," Angela said. And that was that, her tone of voice
declared, never mind that the words were formulaic. That was the first time I'd ever heard her
business voice, the one that determined the fates of vast companies and tolerated no contradiction!

Impressive!

"I can't doubt it," was all I could reply, a little less firmly, as if I could doubt it if I tried. So to
make sure we'd get on splendidly, I put a little steel in my own voice when I added, "If you ever
have any questions or problems, Angela, any at all, just be sure to let me know."

"I can't imagine there will ever be any," she said reassuringly. "I've seen your work. I've been
following it for some time. Since last year in fact. It's very good indeed, that's why you're here
today."

So she'd monitored this? She'd arranged it? She'd overseen my promotion? Coincidental or not, it
had locked in my transition to full time womanhood. It had closed out my alternatives. I could
never ever again be a man, not without starting again at the bottom of the corporate ladder. I could
never return to manhood. So if I ever regretted what I'd become and resented her, I could never
leave her! She really did love me!

"Well, I won't keep you," the CEO then said. "We all have work to do. Your assistant -- Nicole is
it? -- she'll show you around and introduce you to everybody. She's been coming up here for a
week now, getting herself oriented and better acquainted with everyone."

Nicole had been in on this too? All along? I didn't bother to turn around, I knew Nicole had to be
standing close by waiting to escort me to our offices. My new assistant. One more of the women
who unknown to me had been ahead of me the whole time.
 35

Sure enough, her voice sounded just behind me. "I'll show you your new office now, Jessie, if you
don't mind." She sounded crisp and efficient enough. "It's next to mine, and quite private, with a
connecting door between them so I can be available to you any time you may need me." She left
no doubt what she meant.

I glanced at Angela. She was beaming at me. So that was true too, Nicole was Angela's gift to me,
perhaps as consolation if I should ever lament my lost manhood. No need. Angela's love was all
the consolation I would ever need.

******

Now it was autumn, and the nights were taking on a faint chill. I began thinking about putting
away my summer linen dresses and wondering if they'd still be fashionable enough to wear next
year. No matter, every woman's wardrobe needs refreshing with a few new items each year, and
each season of each year too -- mine would be no exception. But I did need to shop this year's fall
fashions, I realized. I literally had nothing to wear!

Well, nearly.

Angie knew that. There was time. We'd arrange an expedition and go shopping together. We
loved doing everything together! Two people had never been closer.

Though some things we did separately. I was in our bedroom. Angela was away on a business trip
and had suggested that I should seek company for the few days she'd be gone, worried I might feel
lonely.

Mavis called me not a half-hour later -- Angie arranges everything, I do so love her! Then when
Mavis came over we went straight upstairs without a word, and we'd been up here now for three
hours. Finally all fucked out.

"It's remarkable," Mavis said while lying half on top of me and playing idly with my nipples. They
were now fully grown and pencil-thick. She was teasing them, trying to give me yet one more
delicious erection, but we were finished for the day I suspected.

I'd just fucked Mavis's ass yet again, and was wondering how she kept it so tight.

"You have a remarkable resemblance to Angie's father, now that you're a woman," Mavis said.
"That must be what Angie first saw in you. I must say, none of the rest of us did. But there it is."

The comment baffled me. "Her father the tyrant?"

Mavis glanced at me and sat up. Since I was used up, it was time for her to go about her business.

"No, of course not. Though Angie's often told us how he was a tyrant when she was a little girl,
how life with him became nearly impossible. But by the time I knew him and knew her and we
were in high school together, all of us, her mother had had enough and seized control over the
situation, and he'd become a doll."

"Her father? Became a doll?" Was Mavis talking nonsense?

 36

"Yes. He was never too happy about it, but he couldn't reveal what had happened to him without
risking exposure, becoming a laughingstock, and he still had way too much arrogance to allow that.
So he remained a doll to the end of his days. Really quite lovely. When Angela first invited me
over to meet him he was as sweet as could be, and we all three baked cookies together."

I had to back up. "His wife 'seized control over the situation' you say? What situation? What
happened to him?"

This was weird!

Surreal!

Angie's tyrant father had baked cookies?

"Angie's mother finally had enough of his bullying, so she sent him to a private clinic she knew
about, supposedly it was a failing property he was supposed to take over and put in shape for resale.
They took him over and put him in shape instead. He arrived there really mean, primed to find
fault, and he demanded to see the books without even a 'Good morning!' Loud and overbearing as
usual, Angie says. But by that evening he was so coked up on tranquilizers and hormones he
couldn't see straight."

"I see," I said. I didn't, but I was getting there.

"They kept him that way for six months. It was a little like that famous French 'Sleep Cure' for
psychotics and neuresthenics, keep them sedated for months and then when they wake up their
brain's rewired itself. Sometimes. Little by little they brought him out of it and persuaded him that
since he could never again be who he'd been, his body had altered far too much for that, he should
become what he could. So Angie's father became Angie's aunt, sort of the way you've become
Angie's sister. Quite docile, and Angie's mom and her 'aunt' lived together for another twenty
years. Still husband and wife, but with a difference. You've never seen that photo of the two of
them that Angie keeps hanging in her study?"

"I've seen a picture of her mother and some woman. I understood that the seated woman was her
browbeaten mother, and the other a caretaker of some kind.

"Oh, she became his caretaker all right! He stayed under his wife's thumb the whole time Angie
was finishing growing up, never really happy about it, but after they cut off his balls he stopped
protesting and settled in. Even began to look after himself, to use makeup, go to a beauty parlor
and so on. Angie thinks he had a boyfriend for a while, but there's no knowing. He took care of
the house for the two of them -- his wife had sold off most of the family business while he was
getting his six months' makeover, I guess you'd call it that, and she got to enjoy running whatever
was left. So she went to the office every day and her husband stayed home and looked after her
every whim. For the last decade or so of their lives together she never had to lift a finger. Maybe
even forgot how to lift her finger -- he did it all.

"That's why when he died she ended her years in an assisted living facility, unable to care for
herself?"

"If you call the Waldorf-Astoria an assisted living facility. She never had to care for herself. She
had a spouse to do it for her.
 37

“And later other gentlemen took care of her more intimate needs and servants did the rest. That
was what was in the cards for you originally, if I recall. Not castration, not right away, Angie loves
her dildo too much for that. But for to become Angie's housekeeper while she did whatever she
chose, saw whoever she wanted to see, and so on. Someone who dances attendance on her slightest
whim. You were well on the way there. But something strange happened. You turned pitiable,
and loveable, and she discovered that she loved you after all and couldn't stand seeing you so
unhappy. So she decided instead to make you her girlfriend, and then as compensation to induct
you into our sorority."

I couldn't say anything. Then, "I never knew any of that about her father. I'd heard only that he
was a tyrant and impossible to live with."

"He was, until he was cured. He was really scary. That's why Angie was never able to relate to
men until you came along. Not even to the boys we knew in high school. Oh, she took on a few
boyfriends, we all did back then, we all had to see what it was like, what they were good for. I
remember one little wimp Angela used to find out what a boy would feel like inside her ass.
'Shitty,' was what she concluded, and we all laughed, but a few of us went ahead and found out for
ourselves, and as you know I found out that I love it. You can fuck my ass any time, Jessie, just so
my pussy remains true to my husband. He doesn't mind."

"I feel the same way about my ass," I said. It was true. Angela had made my asshole as erogenous
an area as my penis. When a cock was in it I could go berserk.

"It's all holes and poles, and the question is always which goes where. Well, Angela got to know
boys well enough to know that she likes using those things they carry around for poking women.
But she couldn't stand their macho pretentiousness, no more than her mother could stand her
father's. None of us can. That's why we all decided even back in high school that boys or no boys,
married or not, we'd stay together. We'd love each other. And we all do love each other, each
other's nookies mostly, though we'll most of us try a cock sometimes now and then. Mostly a dildo
serves adequately with less fuss. But men, otherwise? We all vastly prefer feminine tenderness
and affection. Don't you?"

"Oh, yes." Yes, I do. No question.

"Well, so did Angie's mother -- she and her husband had some marvelous times in bed together
afterward, Angie says, once her mother taught him to be ladylike and gentle and soft and to accept
a good stiff strap-on and enjoy it. So that's what Angie's always wanted too in a man. But until
you came along none of us ever thought she'd find such a man. They're rare. Women like you
aren't born, they have to be made. Carefully."

"Mavis, I didn't know any of this. I don't know what to think."

I didn't. Angie now had exactly what she wanted, and I could see why she'd wanted it. I'd led her
to it myself that first day, unknowingly, when I'd encouraged her to take charge of our lovemaking.
And while this wasn't exactly what I'd intended at the time, I did want Angie, I wanted to live with
her always yet somehow cure her of her uncertainty about me. And I now had her and she was
cured, absolutely certain of me. And the rest was ... well, quite satisfactory. Very. I loved the way
things had ended up. Taking an hour each morning to dress and do my make up and hair and make
myself presentable for the office, and going to the salon every other week to keep up appearances,
those were small enough prices to pay for what I've gained.
 38

A new life.

Though most of what I've gained is what I wanted from the beginning. Angie.

"Are you happy now?" Mavis had clipped her bra over her boobs in a single deft motion and was
now looking for her blouse. "With your life? With Angela?"

"Yes. Deeply happy. I love Angela and I love my life."

Mavis had now finished dressing herself and was swiping on a lipstick from Angie's make-up table.
"Well then, if you don't know what to think, don't think." she replied. "It isn't necessary. Happy is
happy. Really, doesn't either of you have a really red lipstick?"

"They're too brash," I replied. "Red sends too provocative a signal. Neither of us is out to seduce
men. We have each other. And we have our sisters."

"Of course. But a hot cock in the quim is always welcome now and then too. Don't you find that's
so? Never mind answering, the answer's obvious and I've gotta go pick up the kids at school now."

She waved at me and disappeared from the room.

I do find that a hot cock in the quim is always welcome. I keep Jeremy's card in my purse
nowadays, and now and then if the mood strikes me I'll give him a call. We'll meet in a discreet
motel, and for an hour or two I'll kneel down on the bed with my bottom high in the air and he'll
slam that hot, drippy monster of his into my ass and fill me with semen until I'm squishy and can
barely walk. No need for conversation. He knows I certainly have no intention of blowing him
ever again, and he doesn't expect any preliminaries -- he gets right to fucking me. It's really a
wonderful interlude, especially when he remembers to wear "Ecstasy" on his pulse places as
requested.

Angie can always tell when I've been with him, not only because I can't wear heels for a day or two
afterward, my ass hurts too much from the sway heels impose, but also because her dildo feels
loose when she fucks me. She smiles indulgently, and she's happy that I've enjoyed myself.
Jeremy's no threat to her. There's only one person I'll ever love, and she knows who that is.

Meanwhile, she's always happy to fuck my dildo, and she's careful to keep it functioning, so I've
had to settle for breasts that are only a generous B cup in size rather than the voluptuous D's she'd
originally planned for me. I've also retained my testicles, unlike her father, because we both want
to have children and share together in the pleasure of nursing them when they're infants.

"Not right now," she says. "But after they reach school age we can have your balls removed and
buy you a bikini to celebrate."

I don't know yet if I'll want them removed. But I would love to own at least one bikini. All of last
summer I loved showing off my body at the beach, getting guys lying on blankets on their backs to
turn over and lie on their stomachs whenever I walked by. So maybe.

Not that Angie never tries other cocks. She'll open access to her cunt to a business client now and
then. But it's always more for her own business advantage than for private pleasure. And she's
made herself a rule, never a full overnight with any man.
 39

Or any woman other than me. Moreover, if she does get herself fucked, she always shares his cum
with me afterward, and though I still love my own flavor and still dislike Jeremy's, I've found that
some other men's cum can be quite tasty.

Of course anything I drink from my Angela's pussy always tastes of nectar, so I'm no authority.

Angie urges me now and then to take up with other business associates the way she does. It's easier
to get a man to agree with your plans for reorganizing his bookkeeping system after he's fucked
your ass, she reminds me. Or to get a more favorable bank loan for the company. But as the
Comptroller and Chief Financial Officer of a major firm I have to maintain a proper conservative
reputation among all of our associates. Above all I need to maintain respectability. Become a
loose or available woman? Even seem to be one? Really, what would people think?

The End