Message-ID: <17950eli$9812110439@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) Subject: {Vickie Tern} New TG: True Love, 2/3 M/F Femdom wife humil Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19981210203922.04738.00000695@ng-ce1.aol.com> True Love 2/3 by Vickie Tern Don't read this if you aren't legally entitled to read this. It contains explicit sex. Mostly right at the outset, and mostly gentle, but still, you aren't supposed to know about such things. There are characters who use obscene language too, nothing you haven't heard before, chances are, but nothing you're allowed to read here. Your parents and your legislators want their thoughts about you to remain pure. If the events in this story seems to resemble events in the lives of anyone you know, I'm amazed by the coincidence. I'm also sure they would not appreciate your trumpeting that fact to the world. Vickie Tern's other stories are archived at http://www.fictionmania.com and also http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Vickie_Tern I appreciate all kinds of comment: VickieTern@AOL.COM. ii. I went. Dressed the way women dress. And there followed the worst time of my life, followed by the most confusing, though with compensations I have to confess. Followed by I don't know what, now. I couldn't believe what cosmetics can do to a man's face when applied by a professional. And that gown was stunning, just as I'd told Chelsea. I did look gorgeous when we mounted the boss's steps and rang the bell. Their butler let us in, perfectly straight-faced, and announced us to everyone assembled. "Mrs. Donald Ames, and Miss Donna Ames!" he intoned. Who told him that? As we walked through the doorway and I stumbled down the two steps into Geoffrey and Gail's huge living room, tripped up by my four inch high-heeled evening slippers, but supported on Cynthia's arm as if she were the man and I was the frail woman. Then when I looked up, there was everyone we knew! Standing assembled and facing us! Our entire golf and bridge crowd! The women were in long gowns with their hair piled high up, like mine and Cynthia's, their faces painted sloe-eyed and shadowed and blushed, with their lips bright red, like mine and Cynthia's. We were all gorgeous! But the men were all wearing ordinary dinner jackets and black ties! The kind of evening wear I'd have worn if Cynthia hadn't told me I had to do it her way. Geoffrey too! No sign of a gown anywhere near him! His dinner jacket was elegantly cut, an Armani, no doubt about it! Decisively, menswear! Only the women were wearing gowns! And me! I wanted to die! I tried to shrink into the woodwork. But everyone was standing and looking straight at us, and applauding! Applauding! I stared wide-eyed, and couldn't move. Geoffrey stepped forward. "Cynthia and Donna, welcome!" he said in a loud voice. He was delivering a speech, and he expected everyone to listen. "This is an auspicious occasion! For two reasons!" He turned to Cynthia. "Cynthia, you are one of the bravest women I have ever known. Ever since last week, when you first told Gail that your husband was...ahhh... less of a man and ... ummm... much more of a woman than any of us had previously ever dreamed or suspected, and Gail told me, and told me that now finally you wanted everyone to know, our hearts have gone out to you! You've suffered much, endured much in silence. But I want you to know that we respect you and we love you. There is no stigma attached to your husband's decision to live the rest of his life as a woman. His need to be a woman. To be born transsexual is to endure much, but we are all agreed that it is no disability, and should suffer no penalties. Many men feel a need to cross-dress. But we are awestruck with admiration, Cynthia, that when your husband informed you he wanted to go all the way only a few weeks ago, you decided to stay with him if he'd have you, to preserve your family identity and to maintain the home you two have shared together for so many years." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I replayed the words repeatedly in my head. They came out the same each time. "Hold your purse at waist level, sweetheart," Cynthia whispered to me. "It's a clutch purse, remember. And keep your elbows close to your sides. And turn one toe out just a bit. It's much more ladylike. You see, over there they're taking pictures of us for the company newsletter, so you'll want to look your best." My boss turned to me. Now he was holding a champagne flute. So was everyone, I saw. Some were smiling and some were smirking, but everyone had a glass in hand. "And Donna," he declared. "What can I say? Despite a lifetime of conflict, of anxiety, of struggle against your own nature, of shameful secrecy, at last you've found the courage to be yourself! To live according to your nature, as the woman you know you are, whatever narrow-minded people may think. Your work for all of us, for the Company, for all these years, well, it's been superlative, despite what must have been the distractions, the heartaches of your own divided soul. Just in the past few months you've closed three contracts making up almost a third of our corporate profits for the year! Amazing!" "Well, even before Cynthia's revelation to us of your true nature, I've been looking for some way to reward such skill, such intelligence, and dedication, and devotion to our common purposes. But I could find nothing really suitable, because as you know, the Board has obliged us to make the next promotions to Corporate Vice President from the ranks of our minority and women employees. And you were neither. Or so it seemed." "But now we all know better. Our medical and our legal staffs have agreed that you now meet the statutory requirements for promotion, that your plans for sex reassignment surgery -- Cynthia told us about them just this afternoon -- remove any lingering doubt. You're already a lovely woman in your spirit and appearance, and soon you'll also be a lovely woman in all other respects!" "So Don, farewell! You've been a splendid employee and friend, and we shall miss you. Donna, welcome! Your new office as Vice President for Special Projects will be ready for you when you come to work Monday morning, decorated in a delightfully feminine style, I must say, just as Cynthia and Gail proposed. Because you are the first woman to break through our glass ceiling, an example for all the others we hope will follow! And we share your belief that a woman executive should never hide the fact that she is first of all a woman, even if an utterly feminine kind of woman. Because that way she can prove daily that women can be as effective in business as anyone else, without ceasing to be women! I've told our Board Chairman about this conviction of yours, and he was impressed! He called it forward-looking, evidence of the kind of independent thinking we need to encourage!" "Moreover, because you deserve it, and also -- I must confess with pride -- to boost our statistics for salaries paid to women employees to the highest in the industry, I'm pleased to announce that the Board has agreed to double your salary and include in it a generous package of stock options. We do reward merit, and we value our valuable employees!" The boss smiled his most egregious smile. "In conclusion, Donna, I propose a toast. To your newly acknowledged femininity, to the woman you will soon become in body as well as soul, and to our new Corporate Vice President. Donna, I know you won't disappoint us! Welcome!" Everyone raised their glasses and repeated "Welcome!", and drained them. Then the men, most of them, headed to the bar set up in the foyer for refills or stronger stuff, while the women crowded around me, buzzing and laughing and asking all sorts of questions. "Don't blow it, Donna," Cynthia muttered to me sotto voce. "You know now what's at stake, don't you! Just talk in a high voice, and be pleasant, and try to move with grace, and the whole world is yours! You do deserve it, you know. And this is the only way you're ever going to get it! So accept it, and wait, and I'll explain everything later." I did. The wives who welcomed me most enthusiastically, I noticed, were the ones Cynthia'd mentioned felt sorry for her, with husbands Cynthia'd slept with. I suppose for them this was a confirmation of sorts, that what Cynthia had told them about my impotence had to be true, that their sympathy wasn't misplaced. Several times various women brought me more champagne as we laughed and chatted and I tried to giggle with them. When I seemed all right, Cynthia began drifting away. Soon she was surrounded by a group of men, all her old lovers I supposed, sparkling and scintillating. I tried to imitate some of her gestures, but decided it would take far more practice. Just try to get through this evening, I said to myself, then get some explanations and decide what to do. At dinner I was seated between two men, of course. One of them was an elderly bore who sat on the Board and kept realizing and then forgetting that I was the guest of honor. He never did forget to stare down the front of my dress, however, at the two modest mounds of flesh Cynthia had coaxed into visibility with a cunningly designed push-up bra. The other was a hotshot young market analyst on the company's fast-track. He tried and failed several times to find something complimentary to say to me, and when he saw his innuendoes were increasingly resented he turned to entertain someone's simple-minded spouse on his other side. I don't remember swallowing anything on my plate. Later, when a small orchestra began playing slow music in an alcove, I saw Cynthia dancing with Rob. They were terribly close. She was clasping the back of his neck with both hands, and I saw her pull his head down and kiss him. Her kiss had the same devoted intensity I'd felt when she'd kissed me only that morning, when she'd successfully re-aroused my cock. I was everything to her, she'd assured me then. Never doubt it. So could I doubt it? As the crowd began to thin, Gail came up and seized my arm. "Donna honey! Come over here and sit down! We must talk!" She dragged me to a far corner and planted me in a huge, soft chair, so we were scarcely visible to anyone else in the room. "Of course, Gail," I said in my flutey voice. "I'd love to!" "Don't give me that high-pitched 'I'd love to' crap, Don," she said. "What you'd love is to murder someone, wouldn't you? I would, if I were wearing your high heels right now! Because I know what's going on here, and you obviously don't." A voice from the real world! At last! "What's going on here, Gail?" All of a sudden I was all business. She heard the steel in my voice and smiled. "Well, Donna honey, maybe you're worth that Vice Presidency after all. I've always thought you were a wimp, even though Geoffrey told me you've done some amazing things with customers on no notice at all. That you're really quick off the mark. Sort of like your act tonight! You've almost had me convinced that you really are a transsexual, a real wannabe woman, quite a few times. And I know that it's all improvised on the spot, too! Not that any of that matters any more. You're in! That's what you are now, or will be soon enough, a woman, wannabe or don't wannabe." "What's going on here, Gail," I repeated a second time, this time laying my long, red-manicured fingers lightly on her sleeve. She looked down at her arm, then up at me. "When men touch each other, honey, it's often by way of a threat, unless they're gay," she said quietly. "When women touch each other it's by way of sociability, to reassure each other. I hope you know the difference, Donna honey. Because Donna honey, from now on, this is your life! So begin to live it!" "Please?" I said, my voice softer. I looked pleadingly at her. She looked back at me and took pity. "OK!" She took a deep breath. "I've been hearing about how your wife has fucked her way through the staff for two years now," she said. "Maybe more. She's very clever! And I've seen what a loyal employee you've been the whole time, working hard, nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel, all those inspirational cliches, never noticing any of it. The old story, the slut wife with the workaholic husband who's always the last to know." "But I've also seen the two of you together. You make a good couple. You're both obviously deeply in love with each other. And she certainly cares for you! So why does she sleep around? Obviously, it's got to be she's oversexed and you're undersexed, and never the twain shall meet except maybe on weekends. Isn't that right?" "Some weekdays too," I said, a little hurt. Though not for some time though, I realized. My manhood was being challenged here. I looked at my ruby-tipped fingers. What manhood? "Now and then," I added in a weak voice. "Well, honey, that's what changes in your life from now on. No more now and then. No more weekends. No more dipping your cock into anyone's pussy ever again! Did you know that?" "No." I drew myself up. My silicone breast forms were tugging on my bra straps anyhow. "Why do you say that?" "Why sweetheart, I thought you were quicker on the uptake than that! Didn't you hear Geoffrey's speech? No, probably not, who listens to that windbag? Honeybunch, in a little while longer, no more fucking! Not for you! Not the way men fuck! Hormones will soon wither that stem of yours like a tropical plant in a drought, and then surgery will turn it inside out into a cunt. What's been into cunts becomes a cunt! What fucked gets fucked. There's a sort of poetic justice there, don't you think?" "Don't look so solemn! There'll be compensations, of course. For one thing, you'll have gorgeous tits, really big ones, guaranteed, with a little prosthetic assistance if you can't grow them full size by yourself. Cynthia tells me you're a tit man. Well, by this time next year you'll be a tit lady! Men will fall all over you, and you'll have your pick. That is, if you at all incline toward men when the hormones have softened you up a little. Some do, some don't, I hear. And you'll have the prettiest, most feminine office on either coast to work in. I've seen it! Anyone who spends an hour in that decor will feel he has to start flouncing around, man or woman. After two days there you may well feel starved for a cock to suck on!" "Gail," I said, looking her in the eye, trying to regain the high ground, "I don't have to do any of this. I don't know why Cynthia's set me up this way, or where you fit in, but any time after tonight I can walk away. And I mean to. This is humiliating!" Now Gail put her hands on my arms. Her nails were manicured a different shade, but they were equally beautiful. "Honey, just listen! Walk away from a six-figure salary plus bonuses? Walk away from Beach Resorts and Yachts and the Smart Set and the Good Life? Walk away from finally telling other people how to run things, instead of feeling forced to run things the wrong way? Maybe. But you wouldn't get very far. Not in jail you wouldn't!" "Because the company would have to bring an action against you for fraud, for misrepresenting your gender and tricking us into misrepresenting statistics for women's salaries to the federal government, for tricking us into promoting you contrary to company policies and commitments, and into paying you for services never rendered. For setting up an elaborate con game. We can prove to any jury that you schemed this with your wife for months. That she's guilty too, and also deserves jail." She smiled a wicked smile. Conspiratorial, too. "And need I point out that anyone in jail for a scam like this one will end up a woman anyhow, a whore servicing the other inmates? Without getting to wear designer dresses like the one you have on right now? It's just lovely, Donna, incidentally! Really becoming!" She paused. "And even if the company let you off the hook, consider your reputation from now on. The way you look tonight is your social and corporate identity from here on in. From now on, whenever you're seen wearing men's clothes, you'll seem to be wearing drag! You'll be the dickless, effeminate loser whose wife is on the make for anything in pants!" I just listened, my head a little lower when she finished talking. She seemed almost sympathetic. Her comment about my gown was obviously intended to cheer me up! "Please," I said, now much more humbly. "Please, Gail. I don't know what to do. Tell me what's going on." "Honeybun, live with it. You're fucked! You always will be! I didn't believe it when your wife was dancing in and out of the bedsheets with different men, telling them you're impotent, that you can't get it up, or can't get it up often enough. It's a good ploy. It enlivens her partners' interest and relieves their guilt, because some of them are good friends of yours as I understand it. Sometimes it even hooked their wives' sympathies." "But a month ago she went too far! She took on my husband! And two weeks ago I found out, and last week we discussed the matter and negotiated a little settlement." "You see, Geoffrey's susceptible to a hot body like Cynthia's. So I needed to buy her off, or she'd have kept coming on to him, and who knows how it would have ended up. She's not the first woman to turn Geoffrey's head, though she just may be the last." Gail was lost in her thoughts for a moment. Then she said, "Your wife drives a very hard bargain." "You see, honey, what I wanted was some kind of retribution or revenge. In a manner of speaking. Cynthia stole my husband away from me, so I had to steal hers away from her. But not just for a few nights! For good! I don't forgive easily. Now, you may not know it, but I'm not crazy about sex with men. I can handle Geoffrey all right, but for recreation I prefer women. You didn't know? Maybe nobody knows! Well, you were perfect! I'd heard you were some kind of transvestite in your off hours, you know, word gets around. So I told Cynthia, we'd have to set you up to go all the way. That's how I am! Deprive her of you for good! That's why you aren't going to be a man any more, sweetie. Not for Cynthia, not for anyone. You're a new woman. Maybe mine, if we can get on. One of mine. That was my price." "Cynthia's price for all this was a promotion for you, with a whopping increase in salary. Not that you don't deserve one. A promotion might have come along after we fulfilled the Board's affirmative action goals, in six or ten more years, with a small salary increment, if you weren't downsized first. But that's what your wife wanted now, if she was to be deprived of your manly services for the rest of her life and yours. A really huge salary! That's reasonable enough, trading sex for money. I did it, lots of women do it." "So I put a gun to Geoffrey's head, so to speak. It wasn't hard. I told him I'd caught him with his pants draped on his ankles, and he turned pale. But he could easily see the advantages to keeping you on as a top executive, especially if you really became a certifiable woman. And I suppose promoting you helped him discharge his own guilt at getting caught fucking your wife. So we all shook hands and it was a done deal. The rest is history, but someone else will have to write it." "Donna, you are well and truly pussywhipped! Whipped into behaving like a pussy, too! And whipped into growing a pussy of your very own between your legs!" She took my hand. "Peace, sweetheart," she said. "Welcome to womanhood! It isn't so bad! You'll love it!" Then as she looked around she added, "But I see the party's over." I looked around. Everyone was gone. Cynthia too, and Rob. Gail saw what was on my mind. "They've gone to that hotel I recommended to Cynthia, honey. There's a room reserved there for you and me, too, so let's go! Geoffrey doesn't mind my being bisexual, as long as I don't entertain my lady friends under his roof. That's reasonable. So I'll often spend time at that hotel. It's small and discreet and beautifully appointed. You'll love it." She stood up. "Come on, honey. This isn't only your coming out night, it's your bridal night. A little bit of additional revenge Cynthia granted me. She screwed my husband, so I screw hers. And this way you get to see the coming attraction of the feature film that follows, Donna the Woman, This Is Your Life!" I felt trapped. I didn't like feeling trapped. But I was utterly out of my league! I hesitated. Gail reached out her hand, and I took it, and stood up, and teetered for a moment on my heels. She supported me by one elbow until I caught my balance. Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were fuller than Cynthia's, and softer. "There you are, honey," she said to me gently. "Remember to take your purse." "I can't perform tonight," I said. "Cynthia drained me this morning. She's very...passionate." "I was sure she would," Gail said, smiling at me and tucking her arm under mine. "In fact I told her to do it. I don't want you to be distracted tonight by your cock. No intrusion of manly urges into your new first experience of sex as a lesbian. We'll perform the way women perform. You have a mouth, sweetheart, and hands, and an asshole. That's plenty. We'll find things to do. There's more than one way to skin a pussy! Don't worry, sweetheart." "Of course like I've said, it's always possible that when you've got a cunt of your own you'll want to use it the old fashioned way. You may not turn out to be a lesbian at all, just one more straight woman filling herself up with straight men! Boring, but who can predict it? Different strokes!" Gail smiled confidentially to me as she left the house and we settled into her car for the trip to her hotel. "Just between us girls. Geoffrey's upstairs asleep now. That's his punishment for starting up his little affair with Cynthia. She told me about it. Told me the old goat never wanted to sleep at all, just fuck, all night. So every night for the rest of his life I'll slip him a harmless little pill, and he'll be asleep even before he notices I'm not even in bed with him. And one of these days I mean to have silicone balls installed in his scrotum instead of the ones that're there now. He'll never know, but his cock will never salute anthing ever again! No more nookie for my Geoffrey! And all the more time freed up for me to get mine!" She leaned over and kissed me again, this time passionately. "I told you I don't forgive easily!" she said. end 2/3 VickieTern@AOL.COM -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----